Shoes.

Okay, seriously.  It's a chick blog.  Did you think we'd get through the first week without mentioning shoes?

One thing that I'm learning on my journey is that running shoes are an intensely personal (and spiritual) decision   Some people are just fine with cheapie sale-rack Nikes.  Some people demand top of the line yak-leather-upper Eccos.  With me, I'm somewhere on the high end of the middle.

As the blog header reveals, I have a blown Achilles tendon.  More about that in a future post, but for now, suffice it to say that not only do I have a blown Achilles, I also have chronic ankle instability.  Again, more on that in a future post.  Anyhow, I need stability / motion control in my shoes, or you'll find me lying on the ground and crying.

Originally, I started with New Balance 1123 shoes (which have since been replaced by the 1540 model).  The rollbar technology helps keep my foot stable, but they are quite heavy, clocking in at 12 ounces (3/4 of a pound) for each shoe.  Plus, they're not the most attractive shoe I've ever owned.

I can stomp some serious cow pies with these!

When I started getting serious about running, my friend Mikaila suggested that I go to Fleet Feet and get properly fitted.  They put me on a treadmill, looked at my gait, and had a little giggle about how much I overpronate.  Apparently, my ankle really is all busted.

Anyhow, they came out with a few pairs, but I put on the Mizuno Wave Alchemy 11 pair ... and I was home. They were light (just 9.7 ounces each!), decent-looking, and PINK!

Oh baby yoooouuuuuu ... got what I neeeeeeed ...

Easily, these were the most comfortable pair of shoes I'd ever worn.  I put them on, hopped on the treadmill in the store, and took them for a spin.  Heaven!  I will never question Fleet Feet.  Ever.

Finding the right shoe really does make all the difference. I highly recommend going to a running store and getting properly fitted for your shoes.

A girl's best friend.

No, it's certainly not diamonds.  Although they're lovely ... they're not as useful as a good sports bra.

Back in my younger (and thinner) days, I could run over to WalMart or whatever and grab a cheapie "sports bra".  They were less than $10 and did the job just fine.  I mean, how much support does a pair of perky teenaged nearly-B's need?

And then ... pregnancy.  The boobie fairy came!  I woke up one morning and BAM.  40DDs.  Holy shit.  I went to bed a respectable 36/38 B ... and woke up with huge cantaloupes on my chest.

OMG BOOBIES!!!1!1!

After my daughter arrived and I was no longer nursing, they settled in to my lifelong size ... a 42D or DD (depending on the day).  It took me a while, but I've had to learn how to dress and support these monsters.  They show no signs of shrinking in my old age, either.

So, when I started running, I didn't really think much about supporting the girls.  I mean, who wants to wear a big ol' sports bra contraption   One of the simple bras I wear every day - a t-shirt type bra - is fine, of course.  Luckily, I only made it about a third of a mile before I realized the error of my ways.  It became abundantly clear that I had to find a decent support bra before I gave myself a concussion from the bounce.

My first try was, of course, back at WalMart.  They had a "compression" bra in my size.  The tag said "active", and it was made by Just My Size.   I figured that would do, right?  WRONG.  DEAD DAMNED WRONG.  I made it about a half mile before I wanted to shred this piece of garbage.

Try number two was also a FAIL.  I went to Sports Authority in search of a bra.  Upon my arrival, I was given the side-eye by some chirpy little blond yoga-looking thing.  Clearly, fat girl wasn't welcome in her little fiefdom, so I just found my way out of the door.  And into the car.  And tried not to cry because I was embarrassed   Worse ... I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I felt like I should call my husband and sob and say, "I have all this money, see.  And ... and I have these great big boobies.  And if I don't find a bra - a good bra - they'll hit me in the face when I run and black my eyes."

After I dried my eyes, I went next door to Dick's.  I didn't really feel much like shopping, but I realize that I couldn't do much for a run if I didn't harness the girls.  And luckily - I struck gold.

I wandered around for a few minutes, and finally someone asked me if I needed help.  I looked down and mumbled something about being okay.  She took pity on me and said "well, if you're looking for fuller figured sports bras, they're over here.  I usually suggest Moving Comfort.  I bet we have your size.  Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

I sniffled and headed over to the rack.  And there, shining like a beacon in the D-Cup night, was my little piece of heaven.

Ahhh, heaven.

Meet the Moving Comfort Maia.  It isn't the prettiest piece of lingerie I own, but damn if it isn't my favorite.  It keeps everything right where it should be, has a comfortable underwire, and doesn't give me uni-boob or pancake boob.  It just fits.  And it really is worth the $40 or so.

Now, I have been told about Enell.  A friend of mine mentioned that they make great bras for folks that the Boobie Fairy has gifted with an excess.  They run about $70 with tax, but OOOH PURPLE!

I need to get one to try.  Of course, in the interest of science and all.

#run3rd

'scuse me for a moment while I let my freak flag fly.

See, I'm a nerd.  Like, hardcore nerd.  Well, maybe I"m a geek.  I'm unsure what the proper terminology might be. I mean, let's go to the list of Things That Make Me Nerdy, shall we?

1. Loves math.  Not just any math ... statistics.
2. Loves fantasy football for NCAA.  See #1 for the reason.
3. Loves Star Wars.  As in: I know all of the stupid little ancillary characters too.
4. Loves Disney.  I love The House Of Mouse so much that I took a second job selling it!
5. Loves a good cosplay.  I've never gotten the nerve to cosplay anything ... but hey.  I guess there's always a market for a Jessica Rabbit ...
6. Loves LoTR.  In my dreams, I fancy myself an Arwen.  And really, I married myself a Hobbit.  My husband (the Sad Panda) is short, has nine fingers, and is always rummaging for food.  

And the last one?  That led me to Sean Astin's blog.  I read that he ran the Tinkerbell Half, and through the magic of The Interwebs, I landed on his #run3rd site.  

And finally ... that's when it all made sense.  Something in my head just clicked.

Here's Sean's Team #run3rd Mission:

Why Do I Run?
I’ve been long distance running for 25 years. It is one of the most rewarding physical activities imaginable. It is hard. It is painful and it is fun. It confers legitimacy on my day. It makes me feel alive. Simply stated, I love running and I love running far. Above all else, running is selfish. Therefore…
1st I run for me
My family waits for me. My family listens to my stories from the road. My family has faith in me. My family loves me, trusts me and depends on me. My family is patient. My family is strong. Therefore…
2nd I run for my family
While running is in many ways about solitude, I rarely run alone. My thoughts are always with me. My hopes, my fears, my dreams, they come along too. From start to stop I yearn to understand the greater meaning of my journey. With every beat of a runner’s heart, with every pounding step, life itself is affirmed. And so, it costs nothing, yet can mean everything for any runner, for me, to make a simple dedication, to say that these steps I am taking are not mine to own. It means something to me to declare that because I am alive and I care for others…
3rd I run for YOU

This really made me think.  It spoke the words in my head so eloquently, and it clearly has inspired hundreds of others.  So ... I've joined the #run3rd team.  

I #run3rd for the Human Rights Campaign, so that every human being has the right to love whomever they choose.

I #run3rd for Give Kids The World, so that seriously ill children and their families can experience the magic of Walt Disney World at no cost.

This is why I run.

Pi Day 5K 2012

So, my first 5K was the Pi Day 5K in 2012.

I did the Couch to 5K program on a treadmill.  Mostly.  Okay, so I got bored at W3D3 and just decided to run/walk whenever the hell it suited me.  Shoot me.

Anyhow, I figured I could at least walk the silly thing, if nothing else.  And hey ... it raised funds for a cause that's very near and dear to my heart:  MATH!

Anyhow, my lovely husband entertained getting up early to cheer me on.  And when I say it was freezing outside ... I mean it was FREEZING.  Literally, it was 32 degrees outside, and I thought to myself "hey self, you'll get cold.  You should dress in layers!"  So I did.  Needless to say, I made like a stripper throughout the run.

Caffeine, check. Protein, check.  Sanity?  Nope.

First up:  the breakfast of champions.  I am "soy sensitive", so I have to be careful about what I eat.  Perfect Foods Bars are OMG DELISH, gluten-free, and soy-free.  I highly recommend them.

And really, I can't survive without caffeine.  Ever since I was a teenager, I've all but mainlined anything caffeinated.  Back in the day yo, I used to be all about the Jolt Cola.  I really don't like coffee, but will drink it if I'm really tired.  And we wonder why I go through gallons of tea a week?  Sheesh.

Anyhow, I needed the caffeine from the Coke and the protein from the bar.  In hindsight, I should have downed some tea with the bar, because I swear I belched like a drunken sailor for the first mile or so of the run.  Klassy.

Lined up with the rest of the sloths.

When we got to the park, I was a little overwhelmed.  I mean, who thought THIS was a good idea?  Luckily, I'd chosen a good run for my first race.  This was geared toward kids and families ... and I noticed that I wasn't the fluffiest person there.  Score!  They did a little speech before the start, told people to line up, the hardcore runner types shoved to the front under the arch (note just how far back my sloth-like self queued up), and then we were off when the air horn blew.  I hit play on my ceremonial run-starting song ("Kickstart My Heart" by Motley Crue, in case you were curious), and I started off at my pre-determined 16-minute mile pace.

This is easy.

At the end of the first mile, I was thinking to myself, "this shit's easy.  I'm so awesome."  I was about 15-ish minutes into the run, and I felt pretty damn good.  I was starting to get hot, so I took off my ear warmers.

I'm feeling a little like this sign.

As I rolled up onto the second mile marker, I'd noted that I'd thrown in a few walk breaks.  My tubby butt wasn't in as good of shape as I thought.  I saw this sign that had blown over and I thought "ugh, I feel a bit like this.  But hey - there's the water stop up ahead!"  I don't know that I've ever been motivated by water before, but there's a first time for everything.  The gloves I was wearing?  Gone.  And is my asscrack getting sweaty?

Seriously.  Three miles? That's IT?!?

When I stumbled toward the third mile marker, I thought to myself, "well, if I die, they can just roll me over and eventually I'll just land in the river."  My back was hurting down by my tramp stamp (don't you judge me), and my pace had slowed to a miserable 25 minute mile.  I was pushing through the last bit, because damn it, I was going to finish.  Somewhere between mile 2 and 3, I had taken off my jacket and tied it around my waist.  I think.

I look derpy.  But I don't care.  I FINISHED.  Suck it, haters.

And finally ... FINALLY ... I came up the last hill and saw the finish line.  I refused to walk across the line - so I kind of did this running / stumbling / waddling hybrid thing.  My first race finish photo!  I'm so proud.

Clearly, I wasn't too embarrassed.  I have kept running, after all.  But you know what they say ... you never forget your first time.

What's in a name?

So. Here I am.

I'm lazy. Really lazy. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I have a more than full time job as a C-level executive. I'm married to my husband, the Sad Panda (or just "panda"). I'm a mom to a 10 year old daughter (I have 50/50 custody with my ex). I've adopted my husband's 13-year-old daughter from his previous marriage. Oh and she is an Aspie with comorbid ADD. I like to write - I finished my first novel as part of NaNoWriMo 2012, and plan to compose its sequel in 2013.  As if that's not enough, I'm finishing my last class for my MBA. In my spare time (ha!), I am a part-time Disney-only travel professional.

Okay, so maybe I'm not really lazy.

Anyhow, I used to be in really great shape. I participated in pageants (and won quite often). I modeled nearly full time. I was on the cover of a magazine. And I was built like a brick shit house. I'm not kidding.  See?

Back when Miss America decided shoes were for squares.

And then? Life happened.

My combination ADD/ADHD was misdiagnosed as bipolar II. I was medicated with several different types of pills - and not surprisingly, not a single  one worked. I was one of the (un)lucky people whose doctors tried the off-label use of Zyprexa on their "bipolar" ... And gained 51 pounds in about as many days.  When you add in the uncontrolled weight gain from my efforts to get (and stay) pregnant? Well, let's just say that I am officially "fluffy". On the up side, I went from a 36B to a 40DD. So, there's that.

Only after my mother's sudden death in 2004 did I finally have a Doctor listen to me and call out my brain on what it really was - combination of attentive (ADD) and hyperactive (ADHD). Oh, and let's not forget the side order of situational anxiety (not generalized). My problems are less about finding the right medication and more about changing my lifestyle.

I've tried many things since 2004. I know I don't like how daily meds make me feel. I know that the stimulants don't really work for me, they just send my anxiety through the roof. And I know I need to take off some weight.  My numbers are great - I'm well within the healthy range for every marker except blood pressure (genetics plus high-pressure job equals a dose of 200 mg of Toprol XL every night). But I miss being able to buy my clothes without worrying about a muffin top. I miss cute things. And I want to keep myself healthy for a long time - my kids need me, and my husband needs me.

So, last year, I remembered how I dealt with my stress when I was younger. I did a little "road work". I strapped on my shoes, put on some music, and ran. I was never particularly fast, nor was I ever particularly graceful. But running made me feel free. And now - I'm a mother. I have an excuse to look like a cracked-out rhinoceros clomping down the street.  So, I went all Forrest Gump on that shit and ran. Slowly at first. A few seconds at a time at first. But as the days go by - I run more than I walk. Sure, I still Galloway it. But I run. I'm a runner. I have completed two 5K runs. Really. I have the t-shirts to prove it. I'm a runner.

It's been slow. It's been painful. But oh. It's all worth it. It's been a real treat, becoming a fluffy mother runner.