Whoah...whoah...wait! What happened? I have to do what in how many days? That's right. The San Jose Rock & Roll Half Marathon (13.1 miles) is THIS Sunday!
Do you remember my blog post when I first signed up? I wasn't even running a mile, and I commented that even DRIVING 13.1 miles was difficult (stereo broken, had to pee?).
Well - BRING IT. You know I will! (bring ibuprofin and cab fare)
Nikki and I are up to 6.5 miles, and I might have another couple of miles in me for the big day without causing too much injury? We'll see how it goes. We don't have a definite strategy other than how we've been handling our long runs on weekends - go as slow and as far as we possibly can while staying relatively comfortable. There was only one moment during our last long run when I asked Nikki if she'd seen any good movies lately. I was hoping that she would go into a lengthy discourse about some fascinating movie so that I could focus on that and not the fact that it's gotten awfully hot lately! well, she hadn't seen any. Can you believe it?
That slightly panicked (TALK to me for God's sake, I'm gonna DIE out here!!!)feeling always seems to occur about 2 or so miles in to a long run. If I can get past that point, it actually does seem to get easier. I have to remember that come race day!
I think a good race day plan might be to run 8 miles, walk 2, then run the last 3. Yeah, that might work out. I'm no good at intervals. Once I stop running, it hurts when I first start again. I only want to do that ONCE, if possible.
Since we're not racing for time, just for distance and the fun of it, I haven't been doing "speed work", i.e. sprints, Fartlek training, running hills, etc. I haven't been training too hard at all, in fact. I'm still coughing a bit and have some soreness in my back and shoulder blade from that, but wait 'til I'm 100%! For now, I've just been running the most minimal amount (2-3 times a week) to still be able to increase my distance comfortably. I think that's a good strategy for me.
I'm not a competitive runner, just a casual runner. It still sounds pretty cool to say that. If you're familiar with some of my older posts, I wanted this badly. I could barely stumble a block six months ago, then a mile was actually do-able. And now almost 7? I think that qualifies me as a runner.
I am a runner.
See you at the finish line!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
I Wanna Be Scary Skinny!
Ha ha ha! Not really. I just want to be the size I was when this picture was taken. Not the one on the bottom, the one above it. The one on the bottom is me now....kind of “middle aged mom” sized (with the hot husband, always slim, kills me!). The one on the top was me “middle aged hot mom” sized. (Oh! In case you're wondering? Yes, I too am asking myself why I thought it was appropriate to wear a dominatrix costume to work. Different time, different kind of company. That's all I can say.)
Come ON! It’s not like I’m trying to be the size I was in high school. Not even college. Not even the size I was in my late 20’s (I kind of chubbed out in my late 20’s). This picture was from my mid- 30’s, I had already had a child, so I can’t say that I’m trying to be the size I was before I “had kids”, for crying out loud. Why is it so difficult?
Come ON! It’s not like I’m trying to be the size I was in high school. Not even college. Not even the size I was in my late 20’s (I kind of chubbed out in my late 20’s). This picture was from my mid- 30’s, I had already had a child, so I can’t say that I’m trying to be the size I was before I “had kids”, for crying out loud. Why is it so difficult?
I’ll tell you one thing (in keeping with the scary, Halloween theme), I’m starting to get realllly creeped out. I can watch what I eat, record what I eat, and lose exactly three pounds. And there....I’ll....stay. No matter what. The flip side is that I can eat whatever the heck I want – bacon, cheese, chocolate, you name it, gain three pounds, and there...I’ll...stay. No matter what. It is just eerie! It’s like my body has decided that THIS weight, within THREE pounds, no MORE, no LESS, is where I need to be. I waffle back and forth between just trying to accept this strange mid-life phenomenon, amd saying “Oh, hell no. There is NO reason I can’t shave off 15 pounds and get back to my fly weight.” (the weight at which I feel most “fly”).
Everything was great until about 5 years ago. I turned 37 and I quit smoking (for real this time) . It appears that my metabolism was predestined to come to a screeching halt at the same time. What are the chances? It’s also difficult because the Tomlinson-Kaufman Summer Social Season (think camp outs, dinners downtown enjoying balmy evenings, BBQ’s, concerts, road trips, and summer parties) runs from Mid-May to Halloween. Then the Tomlinson-Kaufman Holiday Social Season is upon us and that runs from Halloween to about Easter. I’m so screwed!
I must stop having so much fun! I must change my mantra from “Eat, Drink, and be Merry” to something that sounds more like “Eat tiny portions, drink in moderation, and don’t be so damn merry all the time.” Whaaaat???? That just doesn't sound like me AT ALL.
I have only two options: 1) Stop whining and live my life. 2) Keep trying to get into my black vinyl dominatrix outfit.
Which will I choose?????
I'll get back to you on that. I have a date with Mr. P.F. Chang tonight. Oh holy-mary-mother-of-god I love me some chang!
Monday, September 13, 2010
The Flip Side
I don't really know how to start this entry. It's not really like me to get too serious with this whole blogging thing. I just want to find some way to express how 9/11, the explosion in San Bruno, and all of the other tragic world events haven't escaped me during my quest for the perfect jeans, or any other shallow, humorous or flip comments, posts, and face booking I may have engaged in.
We have our own 9/11 Hero in Pleasanton. His name was Tom Burnett and he was on flight 93. We have a street named for him, the corner of which has recently transformed into a memorial with flags, balloons and signs. I've driven by it daily this past weekend and have thought often of him and his family.
Humor is how I cope. Trying to look on the bright side of things is how I survive. Otherwise I'd be a mess. I'm not a naturally happy and up-beat person, at least I wasn't before I kept practicing! My default setting is actually "melancholy". It takes effort and near constant introspection to keep myself aware of how truly lucky and happy I am. I meditate on the absolute certainty of our mortality (sounds morose, I know, but it's really not. It's the truth and it's good for perspective). Then I stand up and get on with life, which is definitely too short to be taken for granted. I don't dwell on all that is wrong in the world. But I have a huge amount of respect and gratitude for people who do, and who make it their sole purpose in life to fight the injustices in the world. Activists, my hat is off to you. Thank you for doing what I could never be strong enough to do. Words cannot express.
I've done a lot of things wrong in my life and there are a lot of things wrong in this world. But I've done a few things right and there sure is a lot of beauty and love in the world as well. I choose to celebrate and focus on the good stuff and remember them every day. Some days I have to focus harder than others, and that is when I may actually appear to be most flip.
We all die. I'm just trying not to. Right now. Meaning, I've taken control of my health (more or less, and as much as I can, it's all a crap shoot anyway, right?). I'm five years cigarette free and I've lost nearly half of the 30 pounds I gained since quitting. I'm active, eat healthy (most of the time) and I love it. Yes, I love it enough to spend way too much on a pair of jeans and post a picture of my ass on face book! : ) I love it enough to brag about how many miles I'm running or how many mountains I'm climbing. We can never know what the future holds, but right now I have my health and I'm on my way back to my old self. I'm celebrating.
I've been lucky in love. I've never had a truly bad or painful break up. Well, there was my divorce which was probably the worst break up I've ever experienced, but it was my choice. Maybe I'm too pragmatic to believe that when a relationship ends, so should my happiness. That never made sense to me anyway. They shouldn't be inexorably tied to each other. Maybe my turn will come one day. I don't know. Maybe it just doesn't happen if you're not afraid of it happening.
I have no problem falling in love. I've done it a handful of times and I'm no worse for the wear. I've usually ended relationships with gratitude for what it was, while it was. That doesn't mean it never hurt when they ended, I just chose to view the hurt as a "temporarily" painful reminder of the wonderfully human experience of loving someone. Then it becomes my responsibility to dig myself back out to happiness once again. Love, lose, hurt, dig, repeat. It's all part of the human condition, and how lucky are we that we have the ability to do it!
The death of a loved one lands a harder blow, but my dad told me something after we lost my oldest sister. He said "When someone dies, it's ok to be sad. But just for a little while. After that you're just feeling sorry for yourself and the person who is gone wouldn't want that. They want us to be happy." Those were simple words spoken to a sad 13 year old girl by a grieving father. We usually don't listen to our parents much when we're that age, but I clung to and absorbed those words, internalized them and spoke them often to myself. They helped me more than he could ever know. At that time, and also a few years later when he died, and throughout my life. That was a gift he gave me that I am forever grateful for. A few simple words.
I married the most incredible man I've ever met. I don't believe in soul mates. But.....well, maybe I do now. I love the way we love each other.
I have the kind of 11 year old son who still asks me if he can have a cookie instead of just going in to the kitchen and eating whatever he feels like. That's small, but it's huge to me. He's smart, funny, and kind. He may grow up to be a Scientist, or he may be a Roofer like his dad. I don't care what he does as long as he keeps his sense of humor and curiosity. As long as he stays kind and untroubled. His constant singing can sometimes get to me, but I'd rather have a kid who sings joyfully (and loudly) than one who doesn't.
I love my mom, she's an amazing role model who sometimes worries that she wasn't. Trust me mom, you were. You still are. There is a quiet, subtle way about her mothering that I have always admired. It's hard to put it into words, but it makes me want to raise my own child with the same independence and strength that I feel her mothering gave me. I was allowed to be my own person. I wasn't hovered over, or lectured to. Much. She wasn't full of hugs and kisses all the time, but I never for one second felt I wasn't loved (except the one time I ran aways for 10 minutes. She just didn't understand how badly I needed a pony!). Now that I'm older, I'm more grateful than ever that she loved me and parented me the way she did. It was just right.
I have the best brother and sister in the world. They are more than siblings, they are friends and role models. I am so proud of both of them. They married amazing people who appreciate all of their amazing qualities - I'm grateful for that.
I had another sister who died way too young but is still with me every single day. She would be 48 this year. As I approach the age that she would have been, had she lived, I often wonder what it would be like if she were still here. How many other nieces and nephews I might have, what wonderful things she would be doing with her life, because they would have been wonderful. She was a natural "caregiver" and had compassion in spades, even at her young age. I remember one night when I was little, I was scared and asked if I could sleep in her bed. She held me in her arms that night and asked if I felt better. She holds me still. Her death taught me to love without fear. WHY be afraid? There is loss, and there is pain in loss, but it's no less painful if you hold yourself back. You just won't get to savor the fully ripened fruit of love until it's too late. She is another reason I choose to look at the positive things in life. Many people don't get the opportunity.
So I'm grateful, and I'm happy. But it's not like it just comes naturally all the time. I like to take things lightly when and where I can.
Things were weighing a bit heavily with all of the tragic events and anniversaries of tragic events in the news. I feel better now. I'm not going to post this link on Facebook like I usually do because I secretly hope no one reads it. It's truly one of those "dear diary" entries. But that's another thing to celebrate - I do not, nor have I ever, really cared to edit myself. I try not to hurt other people with what I say. Sadly, I'm sure I could work on that. But as far as what anyone else thinks of me...I'm not sure it really matters. Can you tell me why it would? If I can't speak my own truth and be truly myself, I would rather not speak at all.
So I end this little entry with love and peace to all. Be happy, be thankful, celebrate. And let's not mention this post again. : )
We have our own 9/11 Hero in Pleasanton. His name was Tom Burnett and he was on flight 93. We have a street named for him, the corner of which has recently transformed into a memorial with flags, balloons and signs. I've driven by it daily this past weekend and have thought often of him and his family.
Humor is how I cope. Trying to look on the bright side of things is how I survive. Otherwise I'd be a mess. I'm not a naturally happy and up-beat person, at least I wasn't before I kept practicing! My default setting is actually "melancholy". It takes effort and near constant introspection to keep myself aware of how truly lucky and happy I am. I meditate on the absolute certainty of our mortality (sounds morose, I know, but it's really not. It's the truth and it's good for perspective). Then I stand up and get on with life, which is definitely too short to be taken for granted. I don't dwell on all that is wrong in the world. But I have a huge amount of respect and gratitude for people who do, and who make it their sole purpose in life to fight the injustices in the world. Activists, my hat is off to you. Thank you for doing what I could never be strong enough to do. Words cannot express.
I've done a lot of things wrong in my life and there are a lot of things wrong in this world. But I've done a few things right and there sure is a lot of beauty and love in the world as well. I choose to celebrate and focus on the good stuff and remember them every day. Some days I have to focus harder than others, and that is when I may actually appear to be most flip.
We all die. I'm just trying not to. Right now. Meaning, I've taken control of my health (more or less, and as much as I can, it's all a crap shoot anyway, right?). I'm five years cigarette free and I've lost nearly half of the 30 pounds I gained since quitting. I'm active, eat healthy (most of the time) and I love it. Yes, I love it enough to spend way too much on a pair of jeans and post a picture of my ass on face book! : ) I love it enough to brag about how many miles I'm running or how many mountains I'm climbing. We can never know what the future holds, but right now I have my health and I'm on my way back to my old self. I'm celebrating.
I've been lucky in love. I've never had a truly bad or painful break up. Well, there was my divorce which was probably the worst break up I've ever experienced, but it was my choice. Maybe I'm too pragmatic to believe that when a relationship ends, so should my happiness. That never made sense to me anyway. They shouldn't be inexorably tied to each other. Maybe my turn will come one day. I don't know. Maybe it just doesn't happen if you're not afraid of it happening.
I have no problem falling in love. I've done it a handful of times and I'm no worse for the wear. I've usually ended relationships with gratitude for what it was, while it was. That doesn't mean it never hurt when they ended, I just chose to view the hurt as a "temporarily" painful reminder of the wonderfully human experience of loving someone. Then it becomes my responsibility to dig myself back out to happiness once again. Love, lose, hurt, dig, repeat. It's all part of the human condition, and how lucky are we that we have the ability to do it!
The death of a loved one lands a harder blow, but my dad told me something after we lost my oldest sister. He said "When someone dies, it's ok to be sad. But just for a little while. After that you're just feeling sorry for yourself and the person who is gone wouldn't want that. They want us to be happy." Those were simple words spoken to a sad 13 year old girl by a grieving father. We usually don't listen to our parents much when we're that age, but I clung to and absorbed those words, internalized them and spoke them often to myself. They helped me more than he could ever know. At that time, and also a few years later when he died, and throughout my life. That was a gift he gave me that I am forever grateful for. A few simple words.
I married the most incredible man I've ever met. I don't believe in soul mates. But.....well, maybe I do now. I love the way we love each other.
I have the kind of 11 year old son who still asks me if he can have a cookie instead of just going in to the kitchen and eating whatever he feels like. That's small, but it's huge to me. He's smart, funny, and kind. He may grow up to be a Scientist, or he may be a Roofer like his dad. I don't care what he does as long as he keeps his sense of humor and curiosity. As long as he stays kind and untroubled. His constant singing can sometimes get to me, but I'd rather have a kid who sings joyfully (and loudly) than one who doesn't.
I love my mom, she's an amazing role model who sometimes worries that she wasn't. Trust me mom, you were. You still are. There is a quiet, subtle way about her mothering that I have always admired. It's hard to put it into words, but it makes me want to raise my own child with the same independence and strength that I feel her mothering gave me. I was allowed to be my own person. I wasn't hovered over, or lectured to. Much. She wasn't full of hugs and kisses all the time, but I never for one second felt I wasn't loved (except the one time I ran aways for 10 minutes. She just didn't understand how badly I needed a pony!). Now that I'm older, I'm more grateful than ever that she loved me and parented me the way she did. It was just right.
I have the best brother and sister in the world. They are more than siblings, they are friends and role models. I am so proud of both of them. They married amazing people who appreciate all of their amazing qualities - I'm grateful for that.
I had another sister who died way too young but is still with me every single day. She would be 48 this year. As I approach the age that she would have been, had she lived, I often wonder what it would be like if she were still here. How many other nieces and nephews I might have, what wonderful things she would be doing with her life, because they would have been wonderful. She was a natural "caregiver" and had compassion in spades, even at her young age. I remember one night when I was little, I was scared and asked if I could sleep in her bed. She held me in her arms that night and asked if I felt better. She holds me still. Her death taught me to love without fear. WHY be afraid? There is loss, and there is pain in loss, but it's no less painful if you hold yourself back. You just won't get to savor the fully ripened fruit of love until it's too late. She is another reason I choose to look at the positive things in life. Many people don't get the opportunity.
So I'm grateful, and I'm happy. But it's not like it just comes naturally all the time. I like to take things lightly when and where I can.
Things were weighing a bit heavily with all of the tragic events and anniversaries of tragic events in the news. I feel better now. I'm not going to post this link on Facebook like I usually do because I secretly hope no one reads it. It's truly one of those "dear diary" entries. But that's another thing to celebrate - I do not, nor have I ever, really cared to edit myself. I try not to hurt other people with what I say. Sadly, I'm sure I could work on that. But as far as what anyone else thinks of me...I'm not sure it really matters. Can you tell me why it would? If I can't speak my own truth and be truly myself, I would rather not speak at all.
So I end this little entry with love and peace to all. Be happy, be thankful, celebrate. And let's not mention this post again. : )
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Jeans, Jeans, My Kingdom For Some Cute Jeans!
"Withdraw from your bank account, my lord. I'll help you to some jeans!" (So King Richard was talking about a horse, and Catesby was urging him to withdraw from the battle. Still...there are some similarities between going to battle and a woman's quest for super-cute jeans)
I was going to wait until I lost another 10 pounds before I blew a wad of cash on some True Religion jeans. I've been keeping an eye on those things. A year or two ago, I could only admire them longingly from afar on some other lucky lady's butt. Sometimes I would go to the mall to visit them, stroking the heavy denim, fingering the thick, white stitching, and fiddle, curious and intrigued, with the sexy-bold flap pockets. Then there came a day when I could actually squeeze into the largest size they sell (32" / Size 12?). But no....I would wait. Our day will come.
Today I got tired of waiting. What if I never lose 10 more pounds? What if I do, but it takes so long that the jeans are discontinued? A wise (clothing sales) woman once told me "You need to look good WHILE you're on your journey. Why wait until you reach your goal to look and feel your best?" I decided to just go "look at them".
I tried on the 32's and they were HUGE (slightly baggy), so I went another size down. The girl in the dressing room tried to talk me into going even one size smaller: "I think you could possibly squeeze into the smaller ones. Do you want to try? These jeans need to be tight!" To which I replied: "Um...I'm ok with snug. I don't need to be spilling out of the top any more than I already am thanks to the ever shrinking rise of today's jeans. And by the way, where would I find a nice "blousey" top to wear with these?"
In any event - I'm in a size10. Which isn't too bad for my 5'8" self.
I love them. I look fly. My butt looks smaller than EVER, and they will look super cute with the motorcycle boots I'm going to buy! (and the blousey top I found)
I do not feel shallow for being obsessed and/or spending an exorbitant amount of money on these jeans. And do you want to know why? Please refer to my prior blog entry entitled: "Mirror Mirror On The Wall, I Think My Butt Gettin' Small..."
To quote J-Roc, of Trailer Park Boys fame, "these are my troofs." (translate: truths)
If I DO lose another 10 pounds, I'll just take them into the cool, upscale consignment store down town (which happens to be owned by the wise woman quoted above) and trade them in for a smaller size!
I had sushi for dinner, keepin' it light. Running in the morning. You know...the usual.
Life is good....True Religion makes it even better.
I was going to wait until I lost another 10 pounds before I blew a wad of cash on some True Religion jeans. I've been keeping an eye on those things. A year or two ago, I could only admire them longingly from afar on some other lucky lady's butt. Sometimes I would go to the mall to visit them, stroking the heavy denim, fingering the thick, white stitching, and fiddle, curious and intrigued, with the sexy-bold flap pockets. Then there came a day when I could actually squeeze into the largest size they sell (32" / Size 12?). But no....I would wait. Our day will come.
Today I got tired of waiting. What if I never lose 10 more pounds? What if I do, but it takes so long that the jeans are discontinued? A wise (clothing sales) woman once told me "You need to look good WHILE you're on your journey. Why wait until you reach your goal to look and feel your best?" I decided to just go "look at them".
I tried on the 32's and they were HUGE (slightly baggy), so I went another size down. The girl in the dressing room tried to talk me into going even one size smaller: "I think you could possibly squeeze into the smaller ones. Do you want to try? These jeans need to be tight!" To which I replied: "Um...I'm ok with snug. I don't need to be spilling out of the top any more than I already am thanks to the ever shrinking rise of today's jeans. And by the way, where would I find a nice "blousey" top to wear with these?"
In any event - I'm in a size10. Which isn't too bad for my 5'8" self.
I love them. I look fly. My butt looks smaller than EVER, and they will look super cute with the motorcycle boots I'm going to buy! (and the blousey top I found)
I do not feel shallow for being obsessed and/or spending an exorbitant amount of money on these jeans. And do you want to know why? Please refer to my prior blog entry entitled: "Mirror Mirror On The Wall, I Think My Butt Gettin' Small..."
To quote J-Roc, of Trailer Park Boys fame, "these are my troofs." (translate: truths)
If I DO lose another 10 pounds, I'll just take them into the cool, upscale consignment store down town (which happens to be owned by the wise woman quoted above) and trade them in for a smaller size!
I had sushi for dinner, keepin' it light. Running in the morning. You know...the usual.
Life is good....True Religion makes it even better.
