Milestone

Yesterday I hit my first milestone.  Since I started this a few weeks ago, I’ve done the walk-walkfaster-jog-walk thing.  I’ve been “training” by using the runkeeper app on my phone that has a 5K training program.  I’ve also got an app for couch to 5K.  The truth is, over the last few weeks, I’ve grown to dislike both of these training programs.  I don’t think I like the pressure.  I think I do better just going.  Just doing.  No rules. 

The runkeeper 5K program and the Couch to 5K app are both very structured and anyone who knows me would agree that I need structure, but for some reason I think the structure slows me down or holds me back.

Yesterday, for the first time since starting the “training”, when I took off, I didn’t use the training.  I just took off.  Little did I know, I would hit a milestone!!!

It all started off uneventful.  I had one of those days where I was just feeling all down in the dumps for no reason in particular and my husband told me that I would feel better after I ran it off.  I knew he would be right.

I walked the first 5 minutes like I normally would and then did the whole walkfaster-jog-walk thing, but then I came to the “home stretch”.  The last straight away for me to get home.  I didn’t really know how far it was, but it was at least a few tenths of a mile.  I decided that when I rounded the corner I was going to jog and not stop unless I literally fell over.

I never stopped.  I didn’t stop until I ran into my husband’s arms because he was standing in the driveway.  I was crying.  For the first time in probably my entire lifetime, I ran for what I would later learn was an entire half a damn mile without stopping.  If I hadn’t been so emotional and so worked up, I probably wouldn’t have been so winded.  I might have been able to run more if I wasn’t already home.

Now, I didn’t sprint and my average speed wasn’t very fast – an olympic speed walker would surely beat me in a race, but for me, this is a big deal.  I accomplished something.  I hit a milestone WITHOUT QUITTING.

Now, for your viewing pleasure, this post wouldin’t be complete without a screenshot from last nights run.  With some edits from paint. 

•  Yes, I am not smiling in my self portrait.  Even though I’m totally excited about reaching a milestone, I still don’t like running.
• Those aren’t earings.  It’s ear sweat.
• Each line represents .10 of a mile.
• Who knew that Paint had a “crayon” brush now?

Adele Has the Best Running Music (Said No One Ever)

If there’s one thing I love more than red velvet cupcakes, it’s music.  You name it, I like it.  Top 40’s?  Yep.  Classic Rock?  Hell Yes!  Country?  You betcha.  Texas Country?  Hell YEAH!

So, this isn’t just a random post about my love of music.  It’s a random post about how my love of music has turned into an exercising epic fail.

I love my music selection.  Every last song.  I have a playlist on my iPhone called Favorites! and that’s what I’ve been using to jog to.  In theory and on paper, this is a fantastic idea…

But then Adele comes on and brings me down.  Then, when she’s done crying about all the table turning she wants to do, here comes The Band Perry just in time to tell me what to do if she dies young.

Not all of the songs on this playlist are slow, but most of them aren’t fast paced either.  This means I need to create a new playlist.  I’ve found websites that list the 100 best songs for running and such, but frankly, I’m not wanting to invest $130 on 100 iTunes that someone else tells me is the best. 

Operation Run Jennie Run:
I’ve created a new playlist.  A playlist that will make me run my fat ass off.  I hope.

Without giving away the entire playlist before I can officially decide if it helps keep my tempo up, I’ll give you a teaser.

1. All My Life – Foo Fighters
2. Black Betty – Ram Jam
3. Reckless – Aaron Watson
4. Gunpowder & Lead – Miranda Lambert

I would link all of these to youtube videos, but I’m at work and my job thinks that youtube is “social media”.  I’m also not allowed to visit sites that are dedicated to “sports and recreation”.  YEA WORK!

The Truth About Running: Volume I

Running sort of reminds me of one of those terrible tampon commercials. 

Oh, you know what I’m talking about.  Periods are all cupcakes and margaritas until it happens in real life, then it’s just ugly, painful and plain old horrific.  In my case anyway.

The people (I know about 4 people in real life who run because they like it) I know that run never told me about the bad stuff that happens.

I mean, common sense would tell me that there’s going to be a lot of sweat in places that shouldn’t sweat.  I’ve produced more boob sweat in the last few weeks than Mama June at the buffet (that was tacky, I know, but SERIOUSLY have you seen that show?).  The other place I sweat a lot – Oh.my.gosh.  It’s disgusting.  It’s all squishy and itchy and by the time I’m finished, I want to stab my finger in there so deep to scratch, but I don’t because the doctor said not to put anything smaller than my elbow in my ear.

What?  What did you think I was talking about?

Seriously, y’all.  Nobody, not one person ever told me that the insides of my ears would sweat so much.  Like, it’s to the point that my ear buds just slip right out.  When I go to put them back in, it makes the most disgusting noise I’ve ever heard and it’s LOUD because it’s IN MY EAR. 

This is traumatic for me, I’m guessing because I don’t like moisture in my ears at all.  Like, this girl doesn’t even like to get her ears wet in the shower.  Pathetic, I know, but I seriously blame it on some horrible life experience I had…in a past life.

Either way, I really wish that my friends would have told me that my ears would be a steamy, sweaty pool of drippy wax before I started to “run”.  I would have gone a different route.  One that didn’t involve ear sweat or running.

On the flipped side of this nasty coin, I bet my ears are looking super skinny these days.

19 Days

19 Days.

It’s been 19 days since I last had a cigarette.

I really thought that quitting would be harder.  I thought that I wouldn’t be able to do it.  I thought that I would quit, but then I would just quit quitting.

Turns out, I’m stronger than I thought.  I’m not going to lie, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of lighting one up, but it’s just a thought. 

I would say that the hardest part about quitting has been getting an appetite the size of Michael Phelps during peak training season.  I love food so much that it’s really hard not to eat everything I crave or everything in sight.  I do my very best to snack on low calorie/high fiber snacks and fruits and vegetables, but it really is hard.

I will say that I count not gaining weight since the 10th of January a huge success.  I think the juicing and jogging has helped (obviously).

Today, I celebrate me and 19 days healthier than I was before.  I’m doing a happy dance, y’all.

Mommy is Locked Out of the Bait

I was reminded last night by my favorite cousin that I needed to update.  It’s been a week or more now since I blogged last, and I know you’re all wondering:  she quit writing, does that mean she quit running?

The short answer is:  NO.

In the last week plus, I was a busy, busy girl.  My best friend moved from UT to Texas, so I spent the weekend with her and her family.  I didn’t run over that weekend, but I picked up over the week.  Nothing too interesting to report except that my ankles/heels/whateveryoucallthem are still bleeding every.time.I.run.  They don’t hurt as much, it’s just gross. 

There’s nothing sexier than your husband finding you at the kitchen sink at 5:30 in the morning.  He asked me what I was doing and when I told him “washing my blood off my shoes” he just pretended the conversation never happened and walked away.  Good choice, sir.  Good choice.

The only slightly eventful thing that happened last week was when I went for my run on Thursday.  I typically go in the mornings, but My Husband had to leave the house before I would be back, so I went when I got home from work.

When you’re standing in my driveway looking across the street, if I go right, it will take me through a gate and around the golf course.  This gate is only open from 7AM to 6PM.  Since it was 5:00 and my jogs only last 30-45 minutes, I just knew I would be able to be back before the gate was locked.

I was wrong.  BOY, was I wrong.

I always take my phone because it’s also my music source and so I called My Husband.  No answer.  I called again.  I mean, I’m looking at my freaking driveway.  I know he’s home.

This time, my daughter answered.  My beautiful, smart, sassy 6-year-old daughter.  My Husband happened to be on his work phone so she answered his personal.  Let me just tell you what a terrible receptionist she would make.

Me:  “Hi, baby!  Tell daddy I’m locked out of the gate and he needs to come and get me.  He’ll know what to do”.
Her:  “WHAT?  You’re locked out of the BAIT”?
Me:  “No.  Tell him mommy is locked out of the gate at the end of the road and that I’m going to start jogging the other way until I see him”.
Her:  “Why don’t you just come home, mommy”?
Me:  “BECAUSE I’M LOCKED OUT OF THE GATE BY THE HOUSE”…
Husband:  “What’s going on?  Are you okay”?
Me:  “Yes, I’m fine, but I’m locked out of the gate.  Come around and get me – I’ll start heading the other direction”.
Husband:  “Give me a minute and I’ll be there”…

The moral of this story is don’t try explaining something like this to your child.  Just wait for daddy to call back.

After I got off the phone, I un-paused my workout and started off in the other direction.  I got about half way to the golf-club before he picked me up.  I still made it home before 6.  You know, the time the gate was supposed to be locked? 

My husband thinks that our grumpy neighbor at the dead-end (where the gate is) is the keeper of the key, but I thought it would be the city.  Either way, I won’t be taking my jogs through the golf course anymore, unless it’s the middle of the day.

I bet some of you want to know why I didn’t just scale the gate.  Well, for two reasons.  First, I’m far to heavy to climb an 8′ gate and make it over the other side unscathed and two, it’s topped with barbed wire.  So yeah, no climbing.

Running’s a Pain in the Ass

(Via)

I’m not really worried about getting a nice ass, but running is a pain in the ass.  I hate running.  I hated running in school and I hate it now, but it’s something, right?

Monday was my “rest” day so I only walked a bit.  At work I told my co-workers that I was going to wake up at 5:00AM and hit the pavement no matter how cold, how sore or how tired I was.  I think The Skinny One doubted me and honestly, I totally doubted myself.

On Monday night after dinner was finished, I gathered my running gear and piled it on the couch in the living room.  My husband asked what I was doing, so I told him that I was getting my stuff together so I wouldn’t wake him up the next morning.  He looked at me with big “are you serious” eyes.  I looked back at him, blinked and piled up my stuff.

Monday night to Tuesday morning I slept like shit.  I was up once at least every other hour for something.  I had to pee.  The cats outside were either in heat or fighting.  Mack crawled into our bed.  I had to pee again…lather, rinse, repeat.

The alarm came loud and fast at 5:00AM.  I hit snooze and contemplated.  It’s really warm under these covers, Max is snug as a bug next to my extremely sore legs.  I could sleep another hour.  The alarm went off again, 9 minutes later.  I took a deep breath and got out of bed.  I sleep-walked into the living room and started what will hopefully now become my new routine.

I put band aids on my heels where the skin was ripped.  I put on non-cotton socks at the advice of my Running Coach {M}Cat.  I re-laced my shoes just like she showed me over FaceTime the night before and I got dressed. 

I walked outside and it was dark, cold and wet.  I opened my runkeeper app and started my training.  It always starts with a 5 minute warm up.  I found that the road was wet and just slick enough for someone like me to bust my ass.  I put my foot down with purpose, each step I took.  After the warm-up, I started the day’s training.  Run for one minute and walk for a minute and a half.  Repeat each cycle like that 8 times. 

I took off running.  I was slow and probably looked like an injured animal of some sort.  My form is terrible and I know that for sure.  Since my legs were so sore from Sunday, I’m favoring the balls of my feet way more than distributing everything through the heel and the toe, but I’m going.  I’m doing it.  I. Was. RUNNNNINNNGGGG.

After each cycle, I would mentally take inventory of how I felt.  I remember not feeling winded and on the flipped side of that coin, feeling confused as to why I didn’t feel winded.  I didn’t feel cold, but my nose was runny.  I felt “happy-happy-happy”.

Now, running in the dark was a first for me.  Typically, if I go out for a walk, it’s always during the light of day.  I didn’t know what to expect during the early hours of the morning.  What I got was a big bunch of Fraidy Cat with a side order of I Dressed Like a Fucking Burglar.

I live one house away from a dead-end.  There is a street light that splits the property of us and our neighbor, at the actual dead-end, it’s dark and scary.  In the other direction there’s another street light, but then not another for several more houses so it was sort of eery.

I should also mention that I live near a seedy trailer park (not all trailer parks are seedy, y’all).  This is important to my story because of what happens next…

As I’m running from my house to the house 4 doors down, because it’s mostly lit, I notice that traffic is starting to stir coming in and out of the trailer park.  We’ve lived where we do for over two years and we’ve never had a problem with anyone, but when I realized that I was dressed more like a burglar than a runner, I started to worry that someone coming in or out would see me and try to run me over, shoot me or call the law on me.  I was wearing black from head to ankle and the only thing anyone could probably see was my shoes.

I don’t own real running gear.  I don’t have a reflective vest or blinky light that I can wear to let people know I’m out there.  Instead I have burglar clothes.  My burglar clothes will just have to work until I feel like I’ve accomplished enough of my training to reward myself with some real clothes.

Overall, I feel like I had an excellent workout.  I can’t wait until I’m not so sore and I can’t wait for the time change.  I still hate running, but I’m pretty proud of myself for just doing it.  Until my next run on Thursday, I’m going to take it easy. 

The Players

We all have a supporting cast to our starring roles, right?  We’ll, I suppose now is the time to introduce you to mine.  They’re amazingly dysfunctional and I love them all.  Maybe.

My Husband – He has a name, but you’ll probably never see it on here.  Just know that he’s pretty amazing and he’s only an asshole like, .03% of the time.  He works super hard and his job so that we can all have most of what we all want.  We’ve been married for 7 years and it only feels like 7 minutes.  Under water.  

My Daughter – She’s 6 and most of the time a complete jerk, but when she’s not being a jerk she’s pretty loving.  She hates my cooking, would rather not wear pants and loves anything artsy.  She also has a name, but we like to call her Mack.

My Dog – Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.  Probably the most loving and understanding of everyone in this list.  He’s 6 pounds and the biggest snuggle buddy I have.  He goes by Max most of the time.

My Co-Workers –

1. The One I Love – She’s pretty self explanatory.  She’s pretty awesome and always encouraging.  She is hardly ever negative and she never smells like shit.
2. The One That Smells – She has the walking farts.  She always smells like shit, eats terrible.  She’s a micro-manager to the nth degree which means she’s also a control freak who wants to know everything about anyone who ever walked the planet.
3. The Skinny One – She’s on a diet too, but she only weighs like 118 pounds so I want her to eat a fucking snickers every once in a while.
4. The Funny One – She’s funny and she doesn’t even know it.  She’s typically an easy target and I love her dearly.

My Friends – They’re too many to name, but trust me when I say that every single one of them will play a role in some way or another in this little web I’ll spin.  You’ll hear a lot about Chief, Sister, Lena, the Golden Girls and my mom.  When the time comes, I’m sure they’ll each get their own little introductory post.

Then there’s me.  Little ‘ol Jenny From the Block.  I used to write here, but then I stopped.  That was the thing I started that lasted the longest.  And I quit.  But I’m back.  Hopefully for the long haul.

Starting and Stopping

“it starts stopping when it stops stopping” – Ben Kweller

I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here.  Well, its to have an intervention.  For myself.

I’m fat.  There.  I said it.
I’m out of shape.
I was a smoker.  Emphasis on the was. 

The good news for you is that I took it upon myself to start fixing things, but we all know I am a serial starter.  I start things and I never finish them.  Sewing.  Blogging.  Diets.  Exercise.  Crafts.  I’m a Serial Starter.

I smoked my last cigarette on January 10, 2013 at 7:30AM.  Who’s counting though, right?  About three hours after that, when I typically go on my break at work, I had to find something to do with myself.

I got up from my desk and I started walking.  I went out the door, around the building, around the block and before I had realized it, I had walked an entire half a mile in about 10 minutes.

This is when the proverbial light bulb went off.  If I’m walking instead of smoking, I’m multi-tasking.  I’m doing something good for my body so I don’t do something bad for my body.

great scott!!!

On Sunday I bought myself a brand new pair of real life running shoes.  Not shoes that are cute or jazzy.  Running shoes.  For running.  When I got home, I laced them up and hit the pavement.  The only issue with this is that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.  I mean, the last time I did any running it was probably off of a football field in high school.

Nobody told me that you should start off slow and that it’s OKAY to start off slow.  I ran right out of the gate.  My runkeeper app told me to do a warm up.  I heard warm up and translated that to “light jog” so by the time my 1.5 miles rolled around, I was sucking wind like it was my job.

I guess at this point I should tell you I’m “training” to do a 5K, except my trainer is an app that lives in my phone.  The app is set up to tell me when and how to run or walk.  I’ll train every other day for 8 weeks, and by the Grace of God, I’ll be able to actually run (RUN) a 5K.

So that’s why I’ve called you here.  I’m going to rely on you, Internets to help me through this.  I’ll post about the struggles of quitting nicotine.  I’ll talk about the running, but probably mostly the mishaps and how bad I suck at it.  I’ll write about funny things and sad things too, I’m sure.  I’ve got a lot going on in this head of mine and I think it’s best I start writing it all down again.