I am totally lagging on my blog posts because of scheduling issues (CPA exam is on 1/24, so I'm in cram mode). However, I just wanted to share this little bit of Nikko heaven with you.
Can dogs smile?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Stranded.
The only way that I was going to complete this run, I decided, was if I had no other option but to complete this run. I was stuck on this plateau (even on my weekend "long") of not being able to run any farther than 3.5 miles. I knew that just wasn't going to cut it.
So, last night, in the midst of 2 Stella's, a house salad (with Ranch dressing, of course), and some french onion soup at The Greene Turtle with My Gazelle, I had the brilliant idea that he would drop me off somewhere far from home, leaving me no other option BUT to run home.
In the 30 degree weather.
Snotting all over my Under Armour gloves and the Nike cold gear that My Sista gave me for Christmas.
The plan was that My Gazelle would drive me to the lake (a neighborhood running/walking spot with a paved path around the lake). He would basically leave me there, stranded, in the wilderness, and I would have to fend for myself. How COULD he?!
I would then loop the lake twice (1 mile once around), and run home (another 2 miles), for a total of about 4 miles.
That was the plan, but it actually went down like this...
32 steps into the first loop, I had to pee.
First loop, backside of the lake, I paused my Nike + so I could stop at the bathroom.
The door was locked.
I cried.
My tears froze on my cheeks and then my cheeks cracked and I fell violently to the ground convulsing from the cold and the pain.
Ok. Not really.
I decided to suck it up and just try to forget about the fact that I had to pee. Not sure how I managed to do that, but it worked. I guess I was more concentrated on running than peeing.
About 3/4 through my 2nd loop, I decided to do a THIRD loop because I was feeling totally girl power by that point. I just kept telling myself that if running was easy, then everyone would be doing it. Nothing worth having is ever easy.
So, I did my 3rd loop and then ran home. At that point, I was just thinking about making it to the "landmarks" along the way.
Ok...Self...RUN to the stoplight by the mall.
Self...just RUN to Petco...
Self...just RUN REALLY FAST past that super creepola homeless guy that is shuffling across the street towards you, wearing a DHL envelope on his head!
See, there are advantages to living and running in the city. Creepy people make me run fast.
The final stretch home was difficult (hence the huge "crash and burn" slope you saw earlier on my workout chart). I never realized that the street that I live on is almost completely an uphill slope (from the direction I was running). Although not a huge grade, it was enough to be a struggle for me after already doing 4 miles. The last stretch did include a few walk/run stints, but I made it. Good lordy bigordy, I made it.
I did not curl up in a ball and cry on the side of Route 1. My Gazelle did not have to send out a search party for me.
And I basically feel like Wonder Woman.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Dream
I had a dream last night that I was running with someone else.
I know this was a dream because...well...it was a dream.
However, had I not been completely, entirely sure that this occurred during the REM phase, I would've still know that it did not happen while I was awake, coherent, and had my wits about me. Because I don't run with people. If I'm running on a treadmill at the gym and someone steps on the treadmill next to me, I cringe. I start to panic. My breathing gets all sillyfied. I lose all focus. I have to talk myself into staying ON the treadmill.
At some point in my life, I came under the impression that when good runners run, they don't struggle. They don't sweat. They don't make grunting noises as their lungs beg for air. They just calmly, quietly, beautifully run their 20 mile run.
Those are the people who can run next to each other on the treadmill. Those quiet, beautiful, calm runner types.
That is so not me. I am a hot mess when I run. That time when My Gazelle so lovingly offered to run a race beside me was pure horror to me. The thought of struggling, grunting, and snotting all over myself with him beautifully running right next to me was too much for my weak psyche to process. Thank Baby Jesus that he changed his mind in the first 1/4 mile, because I was really considering faking an injury. We've only been together for 2 years, and I didn't think that any 2 year young relationship should have to cope with turmoil of the grunting, snotting sort.
All of that said, much like my irrational fear of Running Clubs ("Runningclubophobia?"), I suffer a similar fear of Running Partners ("Runningpartnerophobia?"). I immediately fall to the floor and begin to convulse at the mere thought of adopting a running partner. So many scary things to consider. Mostly the fact that I don't think anyone on the face of the universe runs as slow as I do or struggles as much as I do to just get in a measly 3 miles.
And then, I started this blog. And then, I started reading other people's blogs. And then, I started reading about people who run with other people, and it seemed enjoyable. Pleasing even. Fulfilling.
And then, My Sista (who might have only dropped her phone in the toilet once, but does have a habit of soggifying her phone in other creative ways) gave me the January issue of Runners World. And then, I read this article. And then, I felt all warm and squishy on the inside. And then, I fell asleep and had a dream about running with another human (rather than my standard canine) next to me.
I'm actually considering hunting down one of these "Running Partner" things now. I feel all girl power after reading the article about Sara and Claire.
Have any of you successfully made the transition from snorting, grunting, hot mess, solo running to beautiful, graceful, chit-chatty, partner running? If so, do speak up. Even if you're just lurking. Be anonymous...make a secret, anonymous comment. I promise I won't make you come back here...I just need help wrapping my brain around this concept that I'm toying with.
I know this was a dream because...well...it was a dream.
However, had I not been completely, entirely sure that this occurred during the REM phase, I would've still know that it did not happen while I was awake, coherent, and had my wits about me. Because I don't run with people. If I'm running on a treadmill at the gym and someone steps on the treadmill next to me, I cringe. I start to panic. My breathing gets all sillyfied. I lose all focus. I have to talk myself into staying ON the treadmill.
At some point in my life, I came under the impression that when good runners run, they don't struggle. They don't sweat. They don't make grunting noises as their lungs beg for air. They just calmly, quietly, beautifully run their 20 mile run.
Those are the people who can run next to each other on the treadmill. Those quiet, beautiful, calm runner types.
That is so not me. I am a hot mess when I run. That time when My Gazelle so lovingly offered to run a race beside me was pure horror to me. The thought of struggling, grunting, and snotting all over myself with him beautifully running right next to me was too much for my weak psyche to process. Thank Baby Jesus that he changed his mind in the first 1/4 mile, because I was really considering faking an injury. We've only been together for 2 years, and I didn't think that any 2 year young relationship should have to cope with turmoil of the grunting, snotting sort.
All of that said, much like my irrational fear of Running Clubs ("Runningclubophobia?"), I suffer a similar fear of Running Partners ("Runningpartnerophobia?"). I immediately fall to the floor and begin to convulse at the mere thought of adopting a running partner. So many scary things to consider. Mostly the fact that I don't think anyone on the face of the universe runs as slow as I do or struggles as much as I do to just get in a measly 3 miles.
And then, I started this blog. And then, I started reading other people's blogs. And then, I started reading about people who run with other people, and it seemed enjoyable. Pleasing even. Fulfilling.
And then, My Sista (who might have only dropped her phone in the toilet once, but does have a habit of soggifying her phone in other creative ways) gave me the January issue of Runners World. And then, I read this article. And then, I felt all warm and squishy on the inside. And then, I fell asleep and had a dream about running with another human (rather than my standard canine) next to me.
I'm actually considering hunting down one of these "Running Partner" things now. I feel all girl power after reading the article about Sara and Claire.
Have any of you successfully made the transition from snorting, grunting, hot mess, solo running to beautiful, graceful, chit-chatty, partner running? If so, do speak up. Even if you're just lurking. Be anonymous...make a secret, anonymous comment. I promise I won't make you come back here...I just need help wrapping my brain around this concept that I'm toying with.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Who, Me...Orthotics? No Way.
So, at some point in my life (err...probably right now), I will have to come to terms with the fact that this
is not the same thing as this
I saw Liz this afternoon. We did some stuff. Then we did some more stuff. Then she yanked my foot around a little bit. Then she did some more stuff.
Then she told me that I need orthotics.
Orthotics.
Ummm...Orthotics.
Conjuring up weird visions of nerdy kids with retainers and glasses? Old ladies hobbling across the street with canes? Pee-Wee Herman?
Yeah...me too.
I'm not entirely comfortable with this concept. However, mydesire need to jog is outweighing my irrational fear of orthotics. That desire need is even outweighing the $200 price tag for the orthotics.
I'm simultaneously mortified and happy. Mortified at the idea of needing orthotics, and happy with the idea of getting orthotics. Because they'll feel good. Because they'll help me run better. She asked me if I needed to think about it. I'm not that kind of girl. I act on a moments notice. I'm spontaneous. I'm spunky. I'm impulsive. I go back at 4:30 today to do a cast of my feet.
At this juncture, I really can't decide if I'm more irritated about needing orthotics, or that I didn't bring my camera to work, so now I can't blog this experience!
Priorities...
is not the same thing as this
I saw Liz this afternoon. We did some stuff. Then we did some more stuff. Then she yanked my foot around a little bit. Then she did some more stuff.
Then she told me that I need orthotics.
Orthotics.
Ummm...Orthotics.
Conjuring up weird visions of nerdy kids with retainers and glasses? Old ladies hobbling across the street with canes? Pee-Wee Herman?
Yeah...me too.
I'm not entirely comfortable with this concept. However, my
I'm simultaneously mortified and happy. Mortified at the idea of needing orthotics, and happy with the idea of getting orthotics. Because they'll feel good. Because they'll help me run better. She asked me if I needed to think about it. I'm not that kind of girl. I act on a moments notice. I'm spontaneous. I'm spunky. I'm impulsive. I go back at 4:30 today to do a cast of my feet.
At this juncture, I really can't decide if I'm more irritated about needing orthotics, or that I didn't bring my camera to work, so now I can't blog this experience!
Priorities...
New Leases...
I'm happy to report two new leases in my life.
1) My rental condo. I absolutely had my panties in a bunch over the fact that the current tenant in my rental condo was moving out on January 15. There was no backup plan. Nobody moving in. Nobody to pay my mortgage for me. No corporate body to wheel their little rolly suitcase into my condo and set up shop for a few months.
This had me chewing my fingernails and crying helplessly at night in the dark. I like not paying my mortgage. I like being able to put said mortgage money towards the $4,928,375,483 in collective credit card debt that My Gazelle and I have. I like the idea that I might soon make a significant enough dent in said debt within the next year that a fairly sensible mortgage agent might actually lend us enough fundage so that we can have a real house. With a real yard. And a real driveway. And our own entrance. What a treat!
So, after being on Craig's List for...oh...5,986 years, someone finally emailed me to see the condo. Since I rent the condo out fully furnished for short-term corporate leases, its pretty much a lock that as soon as the person looks at the condo, they'll rent it out. It's fully furnished, fully renovated, and beautiful. Sometimes I wish that we could somehow magically transform My Gazelle's condo into my condo, and live in my condo...but have it geographically located where My Gazelle's condo is.
So...this is why I feel that way...
Needless to say, I was pretty confident that the guy would rent it as soon as he took a look. When our first appointment fell through (his fault), I got nervous. We rescheduled, but I wasn't putting much stock in our rescheduled appointment. Just as I was ready to curl up in a ball and start sucking my thumb, I received this email:
"Hello Jogger (ok...he didn't call me this, but I like it better),
I saw your place on craiglist last week coming available in mid-
January. I'm looking to do another short term lease and wanted to
check if you've found a renter yet. Let me know if the unit is still
available.
Your Awesome First Tenant"
WOOOOOOOO!!!
I cannot explain how happy I was to hear from Awesome First Tenant. I wrote his new 4-month lease yesterday, and he moves in exactly 4 days after the current tenant moves out. He's also asked me for the option to renew for another 3 months. This, my friends, is a HUGE relief. HUGE.
2) Monday also brought me a new lease. Corny as it might be, Monday was the day when I drafted a new lease on my jogging (running?) life. As I ran, in the dark, bundled up in the 30 degree weather, dragging a terrified 30lb dog behind me, I could not stop thinking about how much joy I was feeling. I was happy to be outside, happy to be sweating, happy to be relatively pain-free, happy to be exercising with my boy, despite the fact that he was acting more like a bowling ball shackled to my waist than a running buddy on this particular trip.
I came home from my jog feeling rejuvenated, happy, and ready to tackle my next jaunt. I truly could have gone farther than the 3 miles I did, if it weren't for the fact that Psykko was completely wiggin out at that point, and I didn't want to torture him any more. I felt all of this, despite the fact that it took me 36 minutes to travel 3 miles.
I figured this wasn't a bad pace, all things considered. Next time you run, strap a 30 pound dead weight to your waist. Then let it stop to sniff things occasionally, and allow it to pee on a few hydrants along the way. Let me know how it goes.
Happy jogging!
1) My rental condo. I absolutely had my panties in a bunch over the fact that the current tenant in my rental condo was moving out on January 15. There was no backup plan. Nobody moving in. Nobody to pay my mortgage for me. No corporate body to wheel their little rolly suitcase into my condo and set up shop for a few months.
This had me chewing my fingernails and crying helplessly at night in the dark. I like not paying my mortgage. I like being able to put said mortgage money towards the $4,928,375,483 in collective credit card debt that My Gazelle and I have. I like the idea that I might soon make a significant enough dent in said debt within the next year that a fairly sensible mortgage agent might actually lend us enough fundage so that we can have a real house. With a real yard. And a real driveway. And our own entrance. What a treat!
So, after being on Craig's List for...oh...5,986 years, someone finally emailed me to see the condo. Since I rent the condo out fully furnished for short-term corporate leases, its pretty much a lock that as soon as the person looks at the condo, they'll rent it out. It's fully furnished, fully renovated, and beautiful. Sometimes I wish that we could somehow magically transform My Gazelle's condo into my condo, and live in my condo...but have it geographically located where My Gazelle's condo is.
So...this is why I feel that way...
Needless to say, I was pretty confident that the guy would rent it as soon as he took a look. When our first appointment fell through (his fault), I got nervous. We rescheduled, but I wasn't putting much stock in our rescheduled appointment. Just as I was ready to curl up in a ball and start sucking my thumb, I received this email:
"Hello Jogger (ok...he didn't call me this, but I like it better),
I saw your place on craiglist last week coming available in mid-
January. I'm looking to do another short term lease and wanted to
check if you've found a renter yet. Let me know if the unit is still
available.
Your Awesome First Tenant"
WOOOOOOOO!!!
I cannot explain how happy I was to hear from Awesome First Tenant. I wrote his new 4-month lease yesterday, and he moves in exactly 4 days after the current tenant moves out. He's also asked me for the option to renew for another 3 months. This, my friends, is a HUGE relief. HUGE.
2) Monday also brought me a new lease. Corny as it might be, Monday was the day when I drafted a new lease on my jogging (running?) life. As I ran, in the dark, bundled up in the 30 degree weather, dragging a terrified 30lb dog behind me, I could not stop thinking about how much joy I was feeling. I was happy to be outside, happy to be sweating, happy to be relatively pain-free, happy to be exercising with my boy, despite the fact that he was acting more like a bowling ball shackled to my waist than a running buddy on this particular trip.
I came home from my jog feeling rejuvenated, happy, and ready to tackle my next jaunt. I truly could have gone farther than the 3 miles I did, if it weren't for the fact that Psykko was completely wiggin out at that point, and I didn't want to torture him any more. I felt all of this, despite the fact that it took me 36 minutes to travel 3 miles.
I figured this wasn't a bad pace, all things considered. Next time you run, strap a 30 pound dead weight to your waist. Then let it stop to sniff things occasionally, and allow it to pee on a few hydrants along the way. Let me know how it goes.
Happy jogging!
Monday, January 5, 2009
Nikko, the Bunny Maimer
So, I actually had to look up "Maimer", just to ensure that I wasn't making up a word. Although I often make up my own words, this is not one of those times, surprisingly. "Maimer" is in fact a word, and I think I may have even used it properly. Miraculous.
Back to our show...
Due to the fact that my little Nikko is a rescued pup, there is no clear-cut explanation of what breed he is. What I know about Nikko is as follows:
1) He doesn't really like strangers, especially men.
2) He sheds little dog hair tumbleweeds all over my hard-wood floor day and night. As if it is his job. As if my sole purpose in life is to vacuum up his dog hair tumbleweeds. As if I have nothing better to do all day than vacuum dog hair tumbleweeds from behind the TV. As if I totally love picking dog hair off of my socks before putting on my shoes, lest I have dog hair tumbleweeds inside of my shoes. I'm not bitter or anything.
3) He's incredibly obedient. Well, unless faced with a strange man, or a small animal that he thinks that he might have a chance of catching and maiming. There's that word again! I might say it again too. Wait for it.
My Gazelle, whom I love for so many various reasons, thinks that point #3 is one of the coolest things about Nikko. When he takes Nikko outside and they encounter the one rogue bunny that happens to hang out in our citified condo development, he runs with Nikko on the leash so that they can try to catch the poor little helpless rogue bunny.
Poor bunny.
In a previous post, I mentioned that we brought Nikko home a little stuffed bunny that happened to look just like the poor rogue bunny that he sometimes chases outside. Well, Nikko took one look at the poor little rogue bunny impostor, and immediately wanted to cause bodily injury to it. He wanted to pull every last ounce of stuffing from the helpless little bunny...and the squeaker too. The cute little squeaker was not even safe.
Poor bunny.
He immediately dragged rogue bunny impostor to his lair. He was so proud of himself. See the little doggy smile?
Disclaimer: Please ignore the hole in the sofa cover. This is the hole that my crazy African Grey Parrot ate. Hey...it's the dog sofa. I'm not concerned.
Then he kindly warned his sister to stay the helicopter away from his bunny.
"Please stay away from my bunny?"
He was really enjoying the poor stuffed bunny.
Then Nikko proceeded to jump off of the holey dog sofa, bunny in mouth, and began his characteristic psychotic zooming back and forth, back and forth, (and back and forth) past Maya. And might I say, Maya was pissed. Can I say pissed without offending? Wait. This is my blog. So anyway, Maya was PISSED! She just studied him.
Disclaimer: Please ignore the random table in the middle of my living room. I was wrapping Christmas gifts, and it would have been way too much work to see the TV from the dining room table. I'm lazy like that.
Disclaimer #2: Ignore the random leg residing behind the table leg. It happens.
Maya just sat and watched...studied him as he jumped off the holey sofa, zoomed into the dining room...
And zoomed back over to jump back onto the holey sofa.
p.s...aren't My Gazelle's shoes so cool? I wish they made them for girls.
Soon, the inevitable happened.
Rogue stuffed bunny FELL out of Psykko's mouth.
And then, the standoff ensued.
This went on for about...oh...42 seconds. Then Psykko promptly jumped off the holey sofa and retrieved his prize.
And he was victorious, as usual. He's sort of the alpha dog around here.
And Maya just sat there, watching...very intently.
Plotting. I just know she's plotting. Because girls are smarter than boys. She'll get him someday.
Back to our show...
Due to the fact that my little Nikko is a rescued pup, there is no clear-cut explanation of what breed he is. What I know about Nikko is as follows:
1) He doesn't really like strangers, especially men.
2) He sheds little dog hair tumbleweeds all over my hard-wood floor day and night. As if it is his job. As if my sole purpose in life is to vacuum up his dog hair tumbleweeds. As if I have nothing better to do all day than vacuum dog hair tumbleweeds from behind the TV. As if I totally love picking dog hair off of my socks before putting on my shoes, lest I have dog hair tumbleweeds inside of my shoes. I'm not bitter or anything.
3) He's incredibly obedient. Well, unless faced with a strange man, or a small animal that he thinks that he might have a chance of catching and maiming. There's that word again! I might say it again too. Wait for it.
My Gazelle, whom I love for so many various reasons, thinks that point #3 is one of the coolest things about Nikko. When he takes Nikko outside and they encounter the one rogue bunny that happens to hang out in our citified condo development, he runs with Nikko on the leash so that they can try to catch the poor little helpless rogue bunny.
Poor bunny.
In a previous post, I mentioned that we brought Nikko home a little stuffed bunny that happened to look just like the poor rogue bunny that he sometimes chases outside. Well, Nikko took one look at the poor little rogue bunny impostor, and immediately wanted to cause bodily injury to it. He wanted to pull every last ounce of stuffing from the helpless little bunny...and the squeaker too. The cute little squeaker was not even safe.
Poor bunny.
He immediately dragged rogue bunny impostor to his lair. He was so proud of himself. See the little doggy smile?
Disclaimer: Please ignore the hole in the sofa cover. This is the hole that my crazy African Grey Parrot ate. Hey...it's the dog sofa. I'm not concerned.
Then he kindly warned his sister to stay the helicopter away from his bunny.
"Please stay away from my bunny?"
He was really enjoying the poor stuffed bunny.
Then Nikko proceeded to jump off of the holey dog sofa, bunny in mouth, and began his characteristic psychotic zooming back and forth, back and forth, (and back and forth) past Maya. And might I say, Maya was pissed. Can I say pissed without offending? Wait. This is my blog. So anyway, Maya was PISSED! She just studied him.
Disclaimer: Please ignore the random table in the middle of my living room. I was wrapping Christmas gifts, and it would have been way too much work to see the TV from the dining room table. I'm lazy like that.
Disclaimer #2: Ignore the random leg residing behind the table leg. It happens.
Maya just sat and watched...studied him as he jumped off the holey sofa, zoomed into the dining room...
And zoomed back over to jump back onto the holey sofa.
p.s...aren't My Gazelle's shoes so cool? I wish they made them for girls.
Soon, the inevitable happened.
Rogue stuffed bunny FELL out of Psykko's mouth.
And then, the standoff ensued.
This went on for about...oh...42 seconds. Then Psykko promptly jumped off the holey sofa and retrieved his prize.
And he was victorious, as usual. He's sort of the alpha dog around here.
And Maya just sat there, watching...very intently.
Plotting. I just know she's plotting. Because girls are smarter than boys. She'll get him someday.
Friday, January 2, 2009
2009...Really?
I have never been one to make "New Years Resolutions". In my opinion, New Years Resolutions are sort of like diets. They just don't work. Long-term lifestyle changes such as diets (and the various things that people "resolve" to do at the beginning of a new year), in most cases, require a full on lifestyle overhaul.
Its easy to say you're going to do something. The hard part is following through.
Oh, don't I know about lacking the ability to follow through. If there were a "Queen of Pissy Follow Through-Ville", that would be me. See me...raising my hand high in the air? I thought you probably could.
I'm one of those ambitious yet lazy people. I'm ambitious up until the point when I realize that something is going to be more of a challenge than I originally anticipated. If I find that its something that I am already good at and can excel at without fear of failure, I will totally run with it. I'll invest every ounce of myself into it. But if I'm going to fail, I run away. Retreat, retreat! I hate failure. Oh, and did I mention that I HATE FAILURE? The fear of failure causes me to procrastinate, and be lazy, and ultimately give up on those things which I feel are going to beat me down.
And so.
Welcome to 2009, Queen of Pissy Follow Through-Ville. Now that you are quickly approaching middle-age, it is time for you to grow up and be a big girl. No more procrastinating and being lazy for fear of failure. Take the bull by its' horns (as Momma Jogger used to always tell Little Girl Jogger). Run with the ball. Don't be a freaking candy ass. Just do it.
(insert other similar cliches here)
2009 is the year that I will be a big girl.
2009 is the year that I will set goals (not make resolutions).
2009 is MY year.
I feel so inspired.
2009 Goals:
1) Finish the Boilermaker with a smile, excited to run it again. This might be a stretch, but I'll keep it in mind.
2) Monthly run schedule as follows:
1st Quarter*: At least 60 miles
2nd Quarter*: At least 80 miles
3rd Quarter*: At least 75 miles
4th Quarter*: At least 60 miles
Total Goal Miles for 2009: 825 (Minimum)
***Ignore the fact that I'm talking like an accountant please...some things cannot be changed.
I would love to run more than 825 miles in 2009, but I'm setting a realistic goal so that I don't kill myself and get injured. Which leads me to #3...
3) Continue working towards being injury free (leg/knee/calf) by improving running form and seeing PT and/or running coach.
4) Run a 5K in under 30:00.
5) Stretch at least once per day (run or no run).
6) Drink at least 64 oz of water per day.
7) Pass my CPA tests and get licensed. This is not health/fitness/running related, but nonetheless very important in my life, and very intertwined with my running schedule. Studying requires about 40 hours per week...which is essentially a second full-time job. In addition to running. In addition to housework. In addition to trying to have a life. It is very arduous. But I will conquer these blasted tests.
8) Belly laugh at least once a day.
9) Visit my NY family more often.
10) Be kind to myself.
There you have it. This is what my 2009 will look like in a nutshell. At no point did I type "Be a total candy ass and punk out of your goals", so if any of you see me doing that, please pipe up.
If nobody else does, at least I know My Sista will. She's good at putting things into perspective for me.
Its easy to say you're going to do something. The hard part is following through.
Oh, don't I know about lacking the ability to follow through. If there were a "Queen of Pissy Follow Through-Ville", that would be me. See me...raising my hand high in the air? I thought you probably could.
I'm one of those ambitious yet lazy people. I'm ambitious up until the point when I realize that something is going to be more of a challenge than I originally anticipated. If I find that its something that I am already good at and can excel at without fear of failure, I will totally run with it. I'll invest every ounce of myself into it. But if I'm going to fail, I run away. Retreat, retreat! I hate failure. Oh, and did I mention that I HATE FAILURE? The fear of failure causes me to procrastinate, and be lazy, and ultimately give up on those things which I feel are going to beat me down.
And so.
Welcome to 2009, Queen of Pissy Follow Through-Ville. Now that you are quickly approaching middle-age, it is time for you to grow up and be a big girl. No more procrastinating and being lazy for fear of failure. Take the bull by its' horns (as Momma Jogger used to always tell Little Girl Jogger). Run with the ball. Don't be a freaking candy ass. Just do it.
(insert other similar cliches here)
2009 is the year that I will be a big girl.
2009 is the year that I will set goals (not make resolutions).
2009 is MY year.
I feel so inspired.
1) Finish the Boilermaker with a smile, excited to run it again. This might be a stretch, but I'll keep it in mind.
2) Monthly run schedule as follows:
1st Quarter*: At least 60 miles
2nd Quarter*: At least 80 miles
3rd Quarter*: At least 75 miles
4th Quarter*: At least 60 miles
Total Goal Miles for 2009: 825 (Minimum)
***Ignore the fact that I'm talking like an accountant please...some things cannot be changed.
I would love to run more than 825 miles in 2009, but I'm setting a realistic goal so that I don't kill myself and get injured. Which leads me to #3...
3) Continue working towards being injury free (leg/knee/calf) by improving running form and seeing PT and/or running coach.
4) Run a 5K in under 30:00.
5) Stretch at least once per day (run or no run).
6) Drink at least 64 oz of water per day.
7) Pass my CPA tests and get licensed. This is not health/fitness/running related, but nonetheless very important in my life, and very intertwined with my running schedule. Studying requires about 40 hours per week...which is essentially a second full-time job. In addition to running. In addition to housework. In addition to trying to have a life. It is very arduous. But I will conquer these blasted tests.
8) Belly laugh at least once a day.
9) Visit my NY family more often.
10) Be kind to myself.
There you have it. This is what my 2009 will look like in a nutshell. At no point did I type "Be a total candy ass and punk out of your goals", so if any of you see me doing that, please pipe up.
If nobody else does, at least I know My Sista will. She's good at putting things into perspective for me.
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