Looking back on 2011, it was a rather fit year. I absolutely love being active, and since my love/hate relationship with running strengthened this year, it was cool to look back today and see how far I've come. 

I taught approximately 150 Jazzercise classes this year, which is huge. I love teaching Jazz because some of the best people I've ever met are there. Jazzercisers are like another family. And I adore them. :) 

When I ordered my subscription to Runner's World, a training log accompanied it. I started keeping track of my mileage so I could see how much I was running. And the grand total (including the eight miles I'll be running tomorrow) was 271 miles. That's an average of five miles a week, which I think is pretty great considering I didn't even start running until the spring. It's kind of cool to look back and see what I've accomplished so far... and it's a good indicator that I can keep going. 

I hope 2012 brings all of you happiness, good health, and love. And here's to even more miles next year for all of us... and a GREAT Februray 26th! 

Happy New Year, all! 

A day at the hospital

This is a non-running related post. And I should mention that I'm sleep deprived. 

This morning started at the crack of dawn -- 5 a.m. when I woke up to meet my parents at Memorial Hospital. My mom, the greatest woman I know, has been having chest pains for the past few months and after a few stress tests and EKG's, things were still inconclusive. The doctor ordered a heart cathedarization (how does one spell that?), and today was the day. We arrived at 6 a.m. and got mom registered and around 7:20, the nurse came to wheel her in to surgery. My dad and I said quick goodbyes (because real goodbyes at that point would have been just too difficult) and mom went through the double doors on her hospital bed. Dad and I went to breakfast in the hospital and tried to have appetites. 

Thankfully, about an hour and a half later came the news that mom was more than okay -- we had a best case scenario. No blockages, no stints (stents?), no angioplasty... just a small artery that might be causing her some chest pain. Her doctor decided to switch one of her medications and asked to see her in the new year. 

The next six hours were spent with mom on bed rest, followed by two hours of walking around (presumably to make sure she didn't blow up or have a limb fall off or something). Around 5, we were finally able to put her in her pj's and leave the hospital and when I left their house twenty minutes ago, she was comfortably resting on the couch. 

I would love to tell you that today reminded me how important ones health is... and it did. Health is one of those things people tend to take for granted until it's gone, and only then do we really notice it's missing. 

Today also reminded me how lucky I am to have parents who truly love one another. Their example has been the best one I could have ever asked for, and one I want to live up to someday. 

But mostly today reminded me how lucky I am to have my mom. My mom and I have a special, unique relationship, one that I don't think is common even among mothers and daughters. Not everyone can say they have a mom who is also their best friend. 

I can say that. And mean it. 

Thoughts on the dreadmill

After having a super productive morning, I feel a lazy afternoon coming on. Therefore, I better write now, or risk not doing it at all today. 

I woke up at 6 a.m. today to head to La Porte to teach Jazzercise. After class, I ate approximately two bites of banana and a packet of Gu and hopped on the dreadmill for a six-mile jaunt. Although there wasn't snow on the ground, it was still dark outside, so I thought an inside run would be best today. 

I tried to mentally prepare myself for the run using anything I could. These are my tried and true surviving the dreadmill tricks. 

1. I run slower. I normally try to gain speed when I'm on the treadmill, but I decided today I'd run slower and longer instead. It made me feel less like death. Win. 

2. Gum. This goes for all running for me. I. Need. Gum. I need something for my mouth to do besides sing (which I do, sometimes). If I don't have gum, the run will not last long. Spearmint seems to be my go to flavor. I stay away from anything fruity or desserty (Sidenote: That was a LOT of sentences about gum. THAT'S how important it is to me.).

3. If you are lucky, like me, there will be a dent in the wall in front of you. Find the dent. Love the dent. Talk to the dent. Stare deeply at the dent. Imagine the dent being anything you need it to be. For me, I need a focus. When I'm outside, I can focus on my thoughts. On the treadmill, all I focus on is how I'm feeling. The dent saves me from myself. 

4. Get any sort of distractions you can. Turn on the t.v. Run the fan. Turn your iPod up extremely loud. Pray, that like me, there will be people or puppies passing by you. Distracting myself from the numbers on the machine I'm running on is always helpful. 

5. Shuffle the iPod. I sort of like not knowing what's coming next. That being said, I run with my iPod in my hand so I can change the songs easily if it's something that's not motivating me to keep moving. 

6. Thank your cheerleaders. Today, my friend Nancy was walking on the treadmill next to me. When I got to mile 5.3, she said, "You can do it, you're almost there!" I needed that boost to remember that I was, in fact, almost done (6 miles, you have nothing on me!). When I got done, Janet and I commiserated about treadmill running but agreed it was a necessary evil. Find your people. Hold onto them tightly. 

7. Reward yourself. On days you run 6 miles on the treadmill (which, naturally, feels more like 12 miles), you deserve a giant latte afterward. Hell, go nuts and have a cookie while you're at it! I'm not usually an advocate for rewarding yourself with food (I pretty much eat food without needing it to be a reward!) but when you do a treadmill run, you get a little pampering, darnit. 

Take my advice with a grain of salt. What works for others doesn't work for me, and vice versa. 

I'm gearing up for my eight miles on Saturday, which will hopefully be done outside. But for the rest of the day, I'm thinking Christmas celebrations, rest, and the couch sound pretty perfect. 

Bodies and guts

So the sayings goes, "Trust your gut," and, "Listen to your body." In theory, these sound like good ideas. Go with your feelings. Trust how you feel. Simple, right? 

Sorta. 

I am a firm believer in trusting ones gut. It has been my experience that if my gut tells me something is off, it's for good reason. What does this look like? This is most easily evidenced in my love life. For instance, early in 2011, I was dating a man who also happened to be my neighbor. Mistake. Big one. 

All was right until I went out of town for spring break. I came back to a man with darting eyes and nervous words. Highly suspect. My gut kicked in even while I was gone, telling me something seemed off with him and the way we were communicating. When we broke up, he told me he thought we were moving too fast. 

Eight weeks later, he got married. 

THAT is trusting your gut -- KNOWING that something is off and TRUSTING it. This has happened to me on numerous occasions with small things. Going one way instead of another... choosing one thing over another... saying nothing instead of something or something instead of nothing. 

For the past several months, my gut has been silent. At first, I was worried I'd lost my knack for knowing. Does it go away after awhile, this ability to trust your core? 

But, I started thinking about it today, and realized that maybe it's just that I'm right where I'm supposed to be... and that maybe I should do a little less overanalyzing and a little more listening to my body. 

With running, I have to know when it's time to take a break and listen to my body. Sometimes that means speeding up. Other times, that means slowing down. The past two weeks have been lighter running weeks for me, and boy did I need it heading in to the holidays. I feel like I'm ready to kick it back up a notch, which is good, because 2012 is looming ever closer. 

As for trusting my gut in life, I am. Stay tuned. :) 

Merry Christmas!

This morning I ran four miles at my cousin Amanda's house. I got lost on the way home, but luckily made my way back through Birmingham and found her place okay. Phew. It would've sucked to have gotten lost this soon after Christmas. While running, I saw a purple bricked house. BRIGHT PURPLE. And the bricks were shiny. For some reason, this reminded me of Disney, and got me excited about the half. Only 59 more days! 

This afternoon was my cousin Jessica's baby shower. This will be the second baby in the family (Jack is due February 5) and her sister Jamie will be having a girl on May 5, giving us baby #3. It was a marathon of a baby shower, lasting over three hours. Luckily, we had pasta for lunch which gave us a chance to carb up. 

I know I've said it before, but my family is the most fantastic group of people around. There's always so much love and happiness and laughter in whatever room we're in. We're very, very lucky to be able to see each other on the holidays. 

And now, a shameless plug for my super cute baby cousin Kayla. Sweetest. Baby. Ever!

I hope you all had a wonderful and blessed Christmas! 

Things that have changed

Things that have changed because of half marathon training: 

Christmas Eve

Last year: Consisted of waking up, being lazy, and eating a giant breakfast, lunch, dinner, and second dinner. Then I ate my body weight in cookies. 

This year: Consisted of waking up, running 7 miles, and THEN eating a giant breakfast, lunch, dinner, second dinner, and ton of cookies. 

Water Intake

Before: About 10 glasses a day. 

After: Approximately 40 gallons a day. 

Calorie Intake

Before: About 1200-1500 a day if I was being good, or 2200-3000 if I was eating for fun.

After: Who knows. Who cares! The running makes calories disappear! 

Weather

Before: If it was under 40 degrees, you could find me bundled up wearing everything I own and complaining about the cold the entire time. Or, not leaving the house. 

After: If it is under 40 degrees, I will willingly go run around outside for an hour or more wearing skin tight clothing. 

Hills

Before: There are no hills in Northern Indiana.

After: There are a CRAP TON of hills on the west side of South Bend. Believe it. 

Shoes

Before: Heels. High heels. Maybe kitten heels, if I was going to work. 

After: Flats, flats, and more flats, in addition to sneakers as much as possible. 

Running clothes

Before: Free t-shirts from various vendors and yoga pants that were too short to teach Jazzercise in.

After: Moisture wicking everything. Plus fleece headbands, gloves, and really, really expensive socks. 

Money 

Before: Spent on bills, going out to eat, shopping, and friends. 

After: Spent on running magazines, running books, shoes, clothes, and other gear. Oh, and still bills. 

Merry Christmas Eve, everyone! 

A post about Rheumatoid Arthritis

Today, I thought I should share with you 22 facts about Arthritis. It's a good reminder to me that I'm incredibly lucky to be an active, functioning, happy young adult, who just happens to suffer from RA. :) 

1. 1 in 5 adults living in the United States reports having doctor-diagnosed arthritis.

2. Half of those Americans afflicted with arthritis do not think anything can be done to help them.
3. Arthritis literally means inflammation of the joints.  However, some forms of arthritis inflame more than just joints and some cause very little inflammation.
4. There are over 100 different types of arthritis, each differing widely in progression, cause, symptoms and method of treatment.  The most common type of arthritis is osteoarthritis, affecting an estimated 21 million people.
5. The cause of most types of arthritis is unknown.
6. More women than men are afflicted with arthritis.
7. All age groups are affected by arthritis, including about 300,000 children.
8. 8.4 million adults between the ages of 18 and 44 have arthritis.
9. More than half of those affected with arthritis are under age 65.
10. Rheumatoid Arthritis, the second most common form of arthritis, occurs when the body’s immune system reacts against its own joint linings, causing painful inflammation.
11. An estimated 0.3 to 1.5 percent of the U.S. population has rheumatoid arthritis.
12. Most individuals with rheumatoid arthritis are between the ages of 20 and 40.
13. People who are more than ten pounds overweight have an elevated risk of developing arthritis, especially in weight-bearing joints such as the knees.
14. Rheumatoid arthritis, the most common chronic inflammatory arthritis, accounts for 22% of all deaths due to arthritis.
15. Rheumatoid arthritis is also among the most serious and disabling types of arthritis because it strikes multiple joints, follows an unpredictable course and has no known cure.
16. One of the most common symptoms of rheumatoid arthritis is fatigue.
17.  Arthritis pain can be caused by factors such as inflammation, damage to joint tissues, fatigue, depression or stress.
18. Many forms of arthritis are systemic, i.e., they are not limited to the joints.  In such diseases, practically any organ of the body may be affected, including the heart, lungs, kidneys and skin.
19. Fewer than 50% of people with rheumatoid arthritis who were working at the onset of the disease are still working 10 years later.
20. About 60.7% of those diagnosed with arthritis are women (25.9 million), while 39.3% are men (16.8 million). 
21. Regular exercise is an essential tool in managing arthritis. 
22. Arthritis affects animals, too.  One in every five dogs in the United States has arthritis.

Oh, AND, Lucille Ball was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis at 17. Me too. :)

Christmas break

Knowing that I have the next 11 days off from school is making me a happy, happy camper. It's also making me feel like I can be super, duper lazy. Today I got dressed at 11:30 a.m. Lazy Thursday mornings rock. 

Yesterday was our first day of Christmas break. The morning kicked off with teaching a half hour Jazzercise class followed by three miles on the treadmill (it was supposed to be five, but I hadn't had anything to eat yet, and was feeling like three was about the max. Bygones.). When I got home from the workout, I slammed down a little yogurt, and waited for my chariot (Andrea) to take me away (to Chicago). I also decided to wear my new winter boots with a little heel. Mistake. 

Once in Chicago, there was a friend reunion: Andrea, Teresa, Erica, Lisa, and Lynn (all the way from Deutschland!). We had brunch, walked around Christkindlmarket, shopped a bit, went to the Field Museum (to see the chocolate exhibit, Sue the T-rex, and Bushman, our new favorite gorilla). Then we went to Garrett's Popcorn to get some Chicago mix (soooo much deliciousness packed in to one little bag!) and watch some teenagers make out in front of us in line (seriously, jerks, I'm on break from school so I DON'T have to see you make out in front of me). And then, of course, it was off to drinks and dinner. 

There are so many reasons I love my friends. Here are a few, in no particular order. 

1. Upon meeting yesterday, the ONLY places we'd decided we were going for sure were the restaurants. We're eaters, people.

2. We share stuff. Sips of spiced wine, hot nuts, secrets (okay, not really), whatever, we like to share. 

3. The lines that come from the six of us being together are priceless. I mean, really, it's tough to remember them all because they're so funny. 

4. It really doesn't matter if we're somewhere special or sitting on a bus, we always have fun together. 

5. Through thick or thin, ups and downs, we will always be there for each other. Yep, number 5 is a cheesy one. 

2011 served as a great reminder of how lucky I am to have all of these wonderful people in my life. I have the very best family, friends, students, coworkers, and acquaintances a person could ever ask for. And 'tis the season to feel blessed, right? 

Oh yeah, I should probably run those five miles today. But I'm thinking seeing friends might take precedence. :)

Speed demon

One thing that consistently frustrates me is my lack of time improvement in my running. If I can run for 10 miles, shouldn't I be able to run, oh, I don't know, three miles, FASTER?! No, says my running, you are not fast. 

In life, I move fast. I have a lead foot when I drive, which, miraculously, has only scored me one speeding ticket (someone knock on wood for me!). At school, the mall, or any other various place, I walk fast. My mom calls it "walking with purpose." I always walk with purpose. Those of you strolling? Kindly move to the right so I can get by you. I have places to be. The WORST part of the day is when I get stuck navigating the halls at school during a passing period. MOVE. PEOPLE. 

I'm fairly punctual, but do move quickly from one activity to the next. I don't have a lot of down time in my schedule, partly because I've planned it that way, partly because there's no way around it sometimes. There's not a lot of down time because there's not a lot of time for down time. 

So, yes, I am a speed demon. And yet, in my running, I don't so much see that speediness. You're going to finish that 5K in 22 minutes? Cool. Grab me a water, and I'll see you about six minutes later. I am just. not. speedy. 

This has started to frustrate me more lately, perhaps because I'm spending more time on the treadmill (iiiiiiick). I just want to burn through those three or four or eight miles as fast as possible. No such luck, friends. My speed is pretty consistent at this point in my running, even when I've intertwined speed work in to my training. 

This isn't to say I haven't improved. I have from when I first started running two plus years ago. But I would REALLY like to see some improvement now, as I think it would remotivate me. 

And with that, I'm out the door to Chicago to see my favorite SMC ladies! :) 

Flexibility

For those of you who know me well, you will know that physically speaking, I am very much inflexible. You know how you had to do the sit-and-reach in elementary school? If I got to my toes, it was a good day. Even now, after a run or Jazzercise when my muscles are still warm, I can barely touch the floor. Oddly, my arms are fairly flexible, as I can always scratch itches in odd places on my back or shoulders, but as far as picking something up without bending my knees, forget about it. 

Despite my best efforts, I just do not gain flexibility. At times, and through serious effort, I've been somewhat flexible for a short time. If I make it a point to literally stretch daily, it does seem to help. But, if I'm not exercising, I don't typically sit around watching TV on my family room floor while stretching. 

In life, I try to be flexible. I fail miserably most of the time. I am, and always have been, a planner. I plan everything, as far in advance as possible. I like to know where I'm going, when, and how. I like to plan ahead when it comes to pretty much everything... shopping (I need time to strategize), making meals (I need time to prepare the house in case of fire), going out (I need to convince myself that I'm not, in fact, 95-years-old and can still go out), and pretty much anything else. Planning gets the best of me every time. Even now, I have to look at the week in advance to figure out when I can get my runs in. This is out of necessity -- if I didn't, it's likely I would never. ever. run. 

I suppose the one place I AM flexible is in the classroom. You never know what a day at school is going to hold. And perhaps I'm able to be flexible because I know my content and my kids so well. Today, we were supposed to be reading Huck Finn. I took one look at their glazed over, sugared out eyes and knew that wasn't going to happen. So, instead, we talked about 2011 (their journal tomorrow focuses on 2012 and what they want), and read some stories out of the book, paying attention to characters, setting, and the women in the stories (Kate Chopin's, "The Story of an Hour," how I love thee). And what do you know? Those little buggers paid attention and contributed to discussion. Flexibility, friends, is key with high schoolers. 

So, back to stretching. My friend Lars Schlereth is doing a 365 Day Project (which is almost complete now!) that can be viewed here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/saga_images/

He originally contacted me about taking a picture of my classroom, and came in to speak to my newspaper staff about photography (a win for both of us!). Lars also offered to take some pictures of me for the blog, so on the coldest, rainiest December day we could find, we did just that. 

Training for this half is stretching me in ways I never imagined. Physically, it's making me stretch my limits. Mentally, it's helping me stretch my imagination. And in life, it's focusing me on stretching my goals. 

Who knew a little half marathon could do such a thing? 

Snowy run

I woke up this morning not particularly excited to run my six miles, but thought I better do it anyway. Upon looking outside, there it was: the dreaded white stuff I'd been waiting for. Since it didn't look too bad, I decided to be brave and try my first snow run. This would be an adventure, I told myself. So I geared up (Santa Hustle shirt and all), and headed out. 

Approximately eight steps into my run, I realized that my fabulous Mizuno running shoes had an empty bubble in the bottom, which was quickly filled with compacted snow. Despite my best efforts every once in a while to stop and kick it out, it was sort of like running in kitten heels. My stride suffered. 

This was also about the time I started saying today's mantra: "Don't fall on your ass. Don't fall on your ass." 

I didn't fall on my ass, or my face for that matter, so that's a win in my book. 

About two miles in, it was clear that six miles wasn't going to happen today. I decided to run 25 minutes out and 25 minutes back. I figured that'd give me around 4.5, considering I was slowed by the snow. At minute 47, my left knee twinged catapulting me forward, so I called it a morning. 

So what have I learned about running in the snow? Well, for starters, there's more pounding as I tried to make sure my body was in solid contact with the ground. There's also awkward shoe placement. But, I wasn't cold and even the snow pelting my face didn't bother me as much as I thought it would. 

Plus, it was extremely quiet, very serene, very pretty. How often do you get that?

Now it's time to pack and take off for the wedding. I guess this means I'll have to do 5.5 on the dreadmill tomorrow at the hotel to make up for today. Oh well. If you would've told me last year that I'd be outside running on December 17, I would've thought you were crazy. So, I think today is a major success.

Happy weekend, all! 

Running amok

December weekend number three is here! Tonight: Work Christmas Party. Tomorrow: Drive to Detroit for Paula's rehearsal dinner. Sunday: Paula's wedding and driving home from Detroit. Monday: Back to work I go. 

'Tis the season for running amok. 

I didn't get my weekday run in this week. I taught an extra Jazzercise class on Tuesday. Wednesday I went out to dinner with Shannon and Jacob. I meant to run last night before Jazzercise, but didn't get it squeezed in, which worked out well since I had my annual monitoring and would have started class with a red face and post-run sweat. And today, today I will be celebrating with wine and pasta, so a run won't happen tonight. I have to run six miles tomorrow, preferably in the morning, preferably outside. Sunday I can run at the hotel. 

One of the main reasons I'm looking forward to this weekend is that I will get seven hours in the car where I can sit, grade, plan, and not move around. Heaven, I tell you. 

I know it's the season to run amok, but the schedule seems extra full this year. Does this just happen as we get older? There are more commitments, more responsibilities, higher expectations, and less down time. For those of you with kids, or hell, even spouses with the same time constraints, I commend you. 

Another school gem this week: My coworker Judi has organized a fantastic program with many of the area elementary schools. The elementary students write letters to Santa and our high school students respond as Santa, Mrs. Claus, or a various elf. This year, my classes were paired with kindergarten students from Crichfield. The letters came in the form of a fill-in-the-blank letter, mostly completed by parents (or children with impeccable handwriting!). Some of the things asked for this year by the children included one girl who wanted a driver's license and another child who wanted a baby sister. 

By far, though, the best parts of the letters were the section where the kids asked Santa a question. Highlights from this year include, "Is there grass at the North Pole?" "What kind of food should I leave out for the reindeer?" and the winner (in my book) for most creative, "What is your favorite kind of sandwich?"

Good stuff.

The training wall

I don't know about you, but life has gotten out of control. It's not just the holidays. It's the shopping I've yet to complete. And the grading my students keep asking about. And the cleaning I should be doing. And the decorating I haven't done. And the groceries I haven't bought in weeks. And the new Jazzercise set sitting in shrink wrap three days after I got it. And the Christmas cards I haven't done yet. And the freelance article I need to work on finding landscapers for. And the fact that I'm out of town every weekend this month. 

And I don't want to do any of it. 

I also don't want to run.

Tonight is the only night in the foreseeable future (and the recent past) that I haven't had a meeting, a class to teach, a party to go to, or an out of town outing.  

Maybe it's the weather. The constant rain isn't ideal for running.

Or maybe it's the fact that my jobs have been keeping me busy. Between school, Jazzercise, and freelancing, there just haven't been enough hours in the day to do much of anything else. 

Maybe it's the fact that the race is still more than two months away. Will missing a run now and then really be a detriment to my training? Perhaps, but I think not. 

Or maybe it's the fact that my couch is so much more appealing lately. Okay, and cookies. Okay, cookies on the couch. 

I think, maybe, I am hitting a wall. The initial excitement has worn off, and the race seems too far off to really be excited about it yet. The stress from the holidays and work and life may have caught up to me. I'm worried about getting everything done. I'm worried about the people in my life. Generally speaking, I'm worried. 

I think I used to stave off this worrying with a run. But today, I don't even seem to want to do that. I have an elliptical sitting in my basement, begging me to use it as a substitute for running right now. Yet, I'm pretty sure the rest of the night will be spent on the couch reading O Magazine, not working out for the equivalent of the five miles I was supposed to run yesterday. Or today. The busy weeks are kicking my tail end. 

Let's hope this wall is more conquerable by Saturday. I really want to get in some good runs before the snow is here. 

But the couch is so darn comfortable.

Thankful Tuesday

It's December 13, and I'm thankful. Here's what I got today:

1. I'm thankful for the best coworkers ever. They make me laugh. They let me complain. They inspire me. 

2. Emails from friends. I adore happy emails. 

3. My neighbor, Erin Parker, and her strength. 

4. J, and her new blog, http://justj-onedayatatime.blogspot.com/

5. Cari and Kaitlyn and painting nails at the gym. 

6. Two strong, solid, able legs to stand on and work out on. 

7. Jazzercise students who smile at my lame-o jokes.

8. A cell phone that works so well and allows me to keep in touch with those who make me smile. 

9. Pizza dinner with Erica.

10. Rocking Levi to sleep, because there's nothing better than holding a newborn in your arms. :) 

11. Everyone who reads this blog, supports me in running with words, or prayers, or thoughts, or all three. 

12. People who can be grateful even in difficult circumstances.

13. The knowledge (and faith) that the future is going to be nothing short of fabulous. 

Beauty and the Beast

I'm out of running related posts right now, which means I have to write about something else. Since the half marathon is the Disney Princess run, this post will be about my favorite Disney Princess. I realize many of you will stop reading now. Feel free. :)

Without a doubt, my favorite Disney Princess is Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Belle rocks. She's smart and strong and witty. She reads a lot. She's sassy. She looks good in a yellow dress. She sacrifices her happiness (initially) to protect the people she loves. She can and does make things happen. Furthermore, she falls in love with someone for who he is on the inside. Sigh. Belle rocks. 

I was eight when Belle rolled out of the Disney vault. Considering these were my formative years, I'm not surprised I gravitate so much to her. The other princesses are just fine, but I like Belle because she's not just a pretty face. She's smart too. Granted, there comes a point in her life where she only talks to inanimate objects, but she's still got a lot of personality. 

I wonder how Belle would do in a half marathon. She'd probably run it with a book under her arm, just in case she had to wait in line at a water station or port-a-potty. And she'd probably run it fast so she could get on to the next thing in her day. I'll have to remember this and channel my inner Belle on February 26. 

In sickness and in health

I have approximately five hours of grading to do. This is not an exaggeration. So what do I decide to do instead? I blog. 

This weekend's road trip took me to Indianapolis to meet up with Nancy. Since she now lives in Louisville, Indy is about halfway for us. We had a fun weekend of laughing about anything, shopping for Christmas (and ourselves), and stuffing our faces with delicious eats. 

Oh, and we ran. Five miles. On treadmills. I think the only reason I survived is because there was someone else next to me. Plus, there was a good movie on with closed captioning and my iPod was fully charged. Win. 

As I drove back from Indy this morning, I started thinking about the reason I USED to go to Indy. At the end of high school and early in my college years, my trips to Indy were about every six weeks to Riley Children's Hospital to see my pediatric rheumatolagist. My mom and I would take the frequent trips down 31 together. To pass the time, we started finding landmarks to make it a little more entertaining. My favorite ones to look for were the giant yellow rocking chair, the super tacky lawn ornament store, some apple dumpling pie place (which, I've never been to, but always wondered about), and a church that was for sale (and as of today, still is!). Naturally, there were other things to look at... the Grissom Air Force Base, the Indiana State Police depot in Peru (where I've been told not to speed, because you WILL get pulled over), and the County Line Landfill (yuck). 

I had a lot of time to think on my way home today. And many of my thoughts kept going back to the drives I used to make, and how sick I was. I remember those drives, especially the drives before I was diagnosed with JRA, that were so horrible. We would drive down for answers and leave with more questions. We would drive in hoping for a resolution and leave with four more diseases to research. 

The worst drive home was also one of the best, ironically. I had just been diagnosed with Systemic JRA, a relief (in a sense) because it wasn't some rare form of leukemia or lymphoma, which is what the doctors were looking for. But the only way to officially diagnose me was to take a sample of bone marrow. 

Have you ever had bone marrow taken? Essentially, the doctor gives you morphine and some sort of amnesia drug, and then takes something that looks like a corkscrew and screws it into your backside hip bone. I was awake for this, but don't remember much, other than hearing a very loud pop. My mom stayed in the room with me, and she said it was pretty awful to watch. I'm glad I had the drugs. 

In recovery, my mom wrote down a lot of the things I was saying. Mostly, we talked about lipstick, and I asked if everyone under the sun was proud of me... "Are you proud of me?" "Yes." "Is dad proud of me?" "Yes." "Are my teachers proud of me?" "Yes." I really wanted people to be proud of me. 

The drive back was horrible because the drugs had worn off and my back was super tender. I remember being in the passenger leaned forward with my arms wrapped around my legs. You know the position you're supposed to get in on a plane in case of a water landing? It looked like that. 

Today's drive back was MUCH different, obviously. But one of the main things I kept coming back to was I used to make this drive when I was so sick, and now I get to make this drive in really great health. Yesterday I ran five miles. Today I ran four. Eleven years ago, I couldn't have run anything if my life depended on it.

So, the trek home today was a good one. And one that reminded me how much things have changed. 

My drinking problem

On average, doctors recommend that most people consume eight glasses of water a day. This comes from some mathematical formula that says if we don't drink enough liquid, we'll dehydrate, and then bad things will happen. So, between water, water in the foods we eat, and other sources of liquid (don't quote me but I think you can substitute a cup of coffee or diet pop and still count it as a glass of water every day), you're supposed to get at least 64 ounces of fluid. 

Most days, I double that. Occasionally, though rare, I've even tripled it. 

I have a confession to make: I like to drink. 

Now, before you start worrying about me and an alcohol problem, let me clarify. I like to drink ANYTHING. This has been going on as far back as I can remember. I think I take after my mother, the woman who never leaves the house without a bottle of water or a Diet Coke, even if the errand she's running will only take twenty minutes. You never know when you might need a drink. 

My mother and I are both hefty drinkers. We drink a LOT of fluid. It doesn't matter what it is -- water, coffee, Diet Coke, juice, milkshakes, and, for me, occasionally alcohol. This has gotten me in to trouble before. It's not that I MEANT to drink that much... I just REALLY like liquids. 

I remember the first time I ever had my body fat measured. I was at Ladies Fitness Zone and Janet was taking my measurements for me. The amount of liquid in the body was supposed to be between 55-60%. Mine was 61%. Janet commented that she rarely saw people even make it into the normal range, let alone go above it. At least I know I'm well hydrated! Most recently, my water level was 62.7%. I'm full of water, people. 

I'm the girl who drinks a 24-ounce bottle of water and at least a cup of coffee in the car on my way to work. Throughout the school day, I sip, constantly, mostly on water, but occasionally on Diet Coke. When I work out, I drink like a lush. I can't get enough water. I'm pretty much always drinking. 

For Christmas, I've asked for one of those fancy water belts to wear while I run. They're super attractive, obviously, but I really need easy access to water, and dinky cups on race day aren't going to do it. 

Writing this post, in fact, has made me thirsty. Bring on the liquids baby. 

My running fears

I have a lot of fears in life. Okay, I shouldn't say a lot. I have some, a FEW, fears in life. 

I have many fears in running, particularly running this half marathon. There is some definite panicking going on, and considering I'm still 78 days out (according to the official race website), it is likely I will continue to add to this list. Read on. 

My running fears (in no particular order) 

What if I fail? 

What if I'm not ready? 

What if I get distracted by the princesses?

What if my iPod dies?

What if I keel over?

If I pass out, will someone drag me to the side of the course?

If I do pass out and someone drags me to the side of the course, will he or she make sure to call for help and give me some chocolate before he or she leaves? 

What if I permanently damage a body part?

If I permanently damage a body part, does that mean I never have to run again?

What if I'm the last person to cross the finish line?

What if I don't cross the finish line?

What if I can't walk afterward? 

If I can't walk afterward, will someone push me around the Disney parks in a wheelchair? 

A winter evening run

(Side note: Can you tell I've learned how to add pictures to my blog? :) Love it!)

Tonight's run was done at Notre Dame, so that I wouldn't get run over by a car. I'm learning that winter running is a lot of things. It's dark. And it's cold. And my feet went numb (from shoes being too tight or from the temperature, I couldn't tell). 

But when I got to The Grotto and not a single soul was there, I was really, really glad I was. 

Young and foolish

At the Santa Hustle, there were mostly adult runners. I saw a few children sprinkling the course, but for the most part, it was adults. 

This entry is not about the adults. It's about those kid runners... the ones who make it look effortless and easy and fun. 

Have you seen the Friends episode where Phoebe and Rachel go running together? Rachel is perfectly poised with good form -- head lifted, shoulders back, arms naturally swinging. Phoebe runs like a little kid -- flailing body parts, kicking her legs around, head bobbing. Rachel is mortified by her partner. 

Guess which one has the smile on her face. 

This August, I ran the Tour de La Porte 5K with some of my friends. My friend Roberta, her daughter Bailey, and her friend Anna drove me to the race. We all started together, and the girls took off in a mad dash. Around a half mile in, I caught up to them and gave them a few words of encouragement as I passed. When the race was over, I went back to the start to eat delicious treats. I found Berta there, and she and I ate breakfast, chatted, and waited on the girls and the winner announcements. We'd been back for ten minutes... twenty minutes... thirty minutes... still no girls. I asked Berta if we should be worried. After all, it wasn't a closed course, and we were running on roads with cars. Berta told me they were fine, and we continued to wait. Finally, about 45 minutes later, the girls showed back up. Berta asked, "What took you guys so long?" Bailey answered, "Oh. We stopped to throw rocks in the lake."

Duh. Why haven't I ever done that during a race?

There's something so cute about kid runners. Maybe it's the fact that they will sprint at full speed for a half mile and then walk for 200 feet and then start sprinting again. Maybe it's the fact that they can turn around and run backwards while talking to their parents and STILL run fast. Maybe it's the fact that despite having legs half the size of everyone else's, they just bob along with the rest of us. Or maybe it's the fact that they never look winded or tired, like I KNOW I do.  

Sometimes, I think it'd be really nice to be a kid runner. Or, at least capture that kid runner mentality. 

Every day I'm Hustlin'

It's been a whirlwind weekend with no signs of slowing down yet! Friday brought Andrea and me to Chicago to celebrate Teresa's 29th birthday with the Chicago crew. Naturally, this was also a time for all of us to gawk at T's gorrrrrrrgeous engagement ring too. We also got to Skype with our Lynny who was seven hours ahead in Germany. AND, it also gave me, Teresa, Andrea, Erica, and Jill a chance to run the Santa Hustle 5K at Montrose Park. 

We awoke yesterday morning to rain. A few sprinkles, really. So, we thought, perhaps it will let up by race time. Erica picked us up, and as we drove toward the race start, it clearly looked as though Mother Nature had other plans for us. The rain continued in a very steady drizzle while we, the five Santas, sat in E's car, patiently waiting the start time. This gave us ample time to try on the ONE Santa beard we had between the five of us, equip our heads with ear warmers AND Santa hats, and answer the question, "E, where's your shirt?" 

As we left the car and stopped at the port-a-potties along the way, the rain picked up even more. Hooray. This led to a lot of shielding our electronic devices from the evil moisture that threatened to take their very lives (I'm being dramatic... it wasn't a downpour, just really annoying. And chilly.). When the race started, we were off... around 4,000 people dressed in matching Santa shirts, bouncing along the path which was littered with beards, hats, puddles, and lots of mud. After mastering the art of dodging and weaving, I fell into a good pace, only to be completely stopped when the path of the race turned sharply back toward the beginning. That's a lot of Santas to turn on a dime, and it didn't work so well. 

This race was fun, though, because in addition to water stops, there were also chocolate stops (complete with cups full of M&M's and Hershey Kisses) AND a cookie stop. They were so bungled, I neglected to stop at either station, but it did make me smile. Smiling's my favorite. 

Being completely oblivious (which I am to many things in life), I was totally unaware that the miles were marked on the course path. I think I was so focused on not tripping anyone and not tripping over anyone, I forgot to pay attention to much else. It WAS nice to see the finish line, although, a lot of the Santas came to a dead stop once they crossed instead of continuing to move. 

I didn't get my PR, but it wasn't really about that. It was just fun knowing that somewhere in the pack were my four other Santas doing the same thing I was. Miraculously, we all found each other at the end (past the live reindeer and giant inflatable Santa) and went out for a soggy, muddy breakfast together. It was a fun winter run to do, despite the nastiness of the day. 

Speaking of nasty day... TODAY. Ick. Motivation is lacking, but there's much to be done. :) 

Happy, happy weekend!

As I write (and post), I'm finishing up at work. Did I mention that I have fifth hour plan? This is both a blessing and a curse, but by fifth hour Friday, my productivity is out the door, and there's no chance of bringing it back. My brain is not on the 50ish essays in my bag to take home or the 29 Friday reports or the lessons I need to teach next week. My mind is focused solely on getting out the door, running to the bank, driving home to finish packing, and heading to Chicago to celebrate Teresa's birthday AND her engagement to Dave! I adore fun weekends. 

Speaking of things my mind isn't on right now, did you notice how very few of my posts mentioned my runs this week? That's not a coincidence, friends, it's that I literally barely ran this week. With the exception of the 2 miles I did on the dreadmill on Tuesday, my running shoes have been on hiatus ever since. Compared to the 20ish miles I ran last week, this isn't such a success, but I DID teach extra Jazzercise classes this week, so at least I wasn't just being lazy. And, to cut myself further slack, this IS a lower mileage week for me, so I'm really only threeish miles off where I should be by today. 

That being said, tomorrow's 5K could go one of two ways: 1. I will feel out of practice, struggle through the whole run, and just be grateful when it's over OR 2. I will have a great run on semi-fresh legs and feel reinvigorated to pick it up next week. 

Obviously, I'm hoping for the latter. 

Damage control

Today one of my students told me she doesn't think she's pretty. She said that she got teased a lot in elementary and middle school about the way she looks and so now, even when her parents and sisters tell her she's pretty, she doesn't believe them. I wanted to shake her and yell, "You're pretty! You're pretty!" But I also know it takes a long time to believe something about yourself, especially when you've spent years thinking the opposite. 

After my JRA diagnosis, I think I convinced myself that I couldn't be active. I think I believed that I was doing the best possible thing for my joints -- resting them -- instead of really moving them. A small part of me told myself that my body wasn't as good as everyone else's -- my joints were damaged and defunct. I guess it's not the same, because no one really told me I couldn't do it -- couldn't be active. But, for some reason, for the longest time, I really believed it. 

I've never had to struggle much with big weight gains or weight losses, but I have struggled with my weight. Since high school, I have stayed in the same 20 pound range, even when on mega doses of steroids. Near the end of college, I was at the high end of that range. When I became a Jazzercise instructor a year later, I was at the low end. I have gone back to the high end and back to the low end twice since then. 

On Thanksgiving morning, I weighed myself, and there it was. 

The number that popped up in front of me was my I'll-never-weigh-that-much-again goal weight. I think any of us who are diet or weight conscious have this number in mind... "I mean, ideally I'd REALLY like to be ___, but I'd be happy if I could just get to ___." I didn't necessarily start running or half marathon training to lose weight, but it's been part of the journey. 

Although I got excited for a minute, it didn't give me the thrill I thought it would. Yep, I reached a number on the scale. But it doesn't make me a better teacher, a kinder friend, a more loving daughter. It doesn't make me a better athlete or a better person. It doesn't make me much of anything, really. It's just that: a number on the scale. 

For years, I told myself, "You can't be fit." I'd never been fit. I didn't think it mattered to me. 

But, it DOES matter. It matters because I want to be active and moving on these joints as long as possible. It matters to me because I want to be able to fix and lift and move stuff in my house without having to call someone to do it (unless it's a couch or something. Seriously, I'm not Super Woman). It matters because I want to be able to run after the children I'm going to have someday. It matters because it's what I want. It matters more because it's what I NEED. It's not a number on the scale -- it's being active and fit and healthy.

I keep thinking about my student tonight... about how she feels like she "isn't" something. I think about how many times we have to hear the opposite of something in order to undo the negative message in our heads. I don't know how many years it will take for my student to wake up and believe she's pretty. I know it took me a long time to wake up and realize my body wasn't damaged or decrepit -- just different than other people's. 

It's true, you know, we are often our own worst enemies. And maybe I can't stop the voice inside my students' head. But, I can tell her she's pretty, and hope she remembers that, just as I can tell myself that my body isn't damaged, and hope I never forget it.