Posts from the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Unrunner Getting Married.

Insert maniacal laughter here.

Trust me, I know.  That poor guy.

But yes, it is true.  I’m getting married. 

 A few other updates. 

My name is quite fitting at this point.  I completed my 1st marathon in Philadelphia last November, and have hardly run a consecutive 3 miles since.

Sure, I get on a treadmill 2 or 3 times a week, but that does not a runner make.

It started with a foot injury from training that was exacerbated during the marathon.  I was demanded by my podiatrist to quit running for 2 months.

I never went back.

Sure.  THAT was easy to quit. Smoking?  We’ll torture you for months and make your brain speak crazy-talk, but running?  Yeah, you can quit that—NO PROBLEM.

Thanks brain.  Thanks.

 But I am determined to get back into the swing of things.

And I am getting married, which means I have to wear white.  In a while. 11 months or something.  I should really know this.

 Day One: Project Get Fit(er).

 Success.  Began a P90X regimen along side the future Mr.Unrunner. He too had paused the fitness routine and had been supporting the local take-out facilities.  This is not coincidence. I am pretty sure my laziness and ease to Moo Shu Pork sounded quite convincing.

 But the important part…where was I?


Day one Project Get Fit(er):


20 Min P90X Ab-Ripper Routine.  This video sucks so good.
30 Mins of P90X Chest and Back Routine.  This is half of the full video, which we decided was wise.  When you’re this flabby, it’s not always wise to march out “Guns-a-Blazing.”  Get it?  Guns?  By the way, this video basically consists of alternating Pull ups and Push ups for a while. And if this sounds easy?  You’ve never done it.


Everything healthy 🙂

-Breakfast: Yogurt and Chia seeds.

-Lunch: Frozen dinner (I am ashamed of these, but bought them before I started dieting.  I will eat salads as soon as I run out of them, I promise. I hate wasting food.)

Snack: Whole wheat fancy grain bread with Hummus. I love Hummus.

Dinner: Salmon, salad and a veggie and Quinoa pilaf-esque thing. I made it up.  I get to name it.

 How do I feel? :

Sore.  Bending hurts, breathing hurts, moving my arms hurts and my stomach feels like it’s digesting itself under protest.

 A few more weeks of ramping up and I should be able to wave without cursing. 


Baby steps.  It’ll all be worth it.


10 Things I Learned From Marathon Training

10.  Toenails retaliate. And they fight hard for such an innocuous body part.

9.  There should be a YouTube channel devoted to videos of removing compression socks after a long run. I am typically naked while sitting on the floor and grunting, pulling at them with all my strength.  Ratings stipulations forbid me from posting my own.  

8. If you really hate someone, offer them a Perpetuem Tablet when they mention the have heartburn. It won’t cure heartburn. It just looks like a large antacid table (such as Tums). Don’t worry, they won’t yell at you because very shortly their mouth will  be filled with a cement-like substance that will take them an hour to fully remove from  their teeth.  To increase your enjoyment hide any water.

7. Carly Rae Jepsen isn’t the Anti-Christ.  This applies only to Ipod running mixes.

6. It is entirely possible to gain weight while burning 3,000-4,000 calories a week.  I got good at it.

5. One of your cats will steal your underwear out of the laundry basket after a run.  Every time.  Then she will lay on them.  For hours.
Additionally, if you can honestly type the phrase “one of your cats,” you have at least one cat too many.

4. You will develop a borderline inappropriate relationship with your running watch.  You will then cry when it craps out on you.   But then again, what functioning device really wants to run 488 miles in 20 weeks?  (Side note, currently shopping for a new one, if you have recos!)

3. You are capable of smelling THAT BAD.

2.  It’s way more fun to train for a marathon when your buddies will be drunk at the finish line when you complete.

1. You will complete.

Where have I been?!?!?

Ohhhh, it seems so silly to have writers block for a blog.  I talk ALL THE TIME.  I’m annoying. I bather on like a nimrod.  And yet, I sit down to type and….nothing.

But I am hoping I am over that now.  Let’s find out.

I moved to the country.  No, really, the country. I am trying to embrace it by reading Pottery Barn catalogs and looking at the perfect chainsaw bear to purchase.

I have turkey, bear and deer in my yard, all of which seem to have the same goal of not allowing me to plant a vegetable garden.  I think they talked to the man-friend, because he seems to agree with them.

This weekend, I am transforming a dump truck of mulch into…something.  I would like to call it “landscaping” but time will tell.  I have rocks, and plants and ideas. 

I’ll post before and after photos this weekend to try to inspire you to never try this at your own home. 

I’ve also taken to Yoga, as a result of my body falling apart. It’s been helping, so unfortunately I’ve been converted.

On a side note, while I am still running for fun, I am eagerly awaiting the news if I have been accepted into the NYC Marathon this fall.  The lotto pull is April 25th, so I am not training for anything at the moment.  I am taking some down time so that if I am to train for the fall marathon (*gulp*) I’ve given myself some needed time to rest. I ran another half in March, and while it was not as fast as my 1st, it was still very fun.

Yup.  Fun.

Perhaps I am not really an un-runner anymore…  

Some days, the bear gets you…

Since Monday is a “rest day” on my training schedule, today is the first day that I am running again after this past weekend’s 8 mile training run. To be honest, it sucked.  I went home feeling terribly worn out, in a lot of pain and very, very sweaty.

That being said, there are positive outcomes from having a bad training run. In fact, these learnings are what will make my run on the day of the Half Marathon so perfect. (How’s that for positive spin?)

1)      I have reached a mature standpoint where I can say it was just a bad run, vs. I am never going to be a good runner.

2)      While it took me almost 2 hours to run 8 miles, I still ran 8 miles.  Actually, I ran 7.5 miles.  I walked at least half a mile intermittently due to a pain in my ankle after mile 4, kind of Achilles-like. This is good practice for when at mile 12 my whole body goes numb from stupidity and regret.

3)      I learned that my water bottle isn’t going to cut it for mileage over 6 miles, and I have just ordered a hydration pack for the remainder of my training runs.

4)      I have also learned that I need a clif block after mile 7.  At least, this time I would have GREATLY benefited from one, so I should have had one with me, just in case.

5)      I learned that when I crawl into bed (after a post run shower) and stay there for 3 hours, my dog will keep me company. He will cheer me up the whole time.  He will even pretend to be interested in the tv show I am watching.  He’s very supportive.

The run was kind of bad all around.  First, I was lazy and slept late, so it was hot, hot, HOT.  I ran out of water early on (this was partially due to a water bottle malfunction) and there were no stores near where I was to refill. (Ironically, I was running at a reservoir for NYC.)

Ashokan Reservoir

My muscles had been very sore all weekend, and they were no less sore when I started the run.  I had hoped that once I was warmed up, I wouldn’t even notice them (this theory has worked in the past).  This was not the case.  Right from mile 1, I was averaging a minute over my usual pace per mile, and it just never got any better (it did get worse).  Then, around mile 5 heel pain (felt slightly like my Achilles Tendon) kicked in and…I had to walk it off. Once I started walking and lost my momentum…it was all over.  I think I finished my last mile at a 16 min pace (which, honestly, I can walk faster than.)

While 8 miles is the longest run I had ever attempted, I want to note that the run had failed long before the extra mile, and that I had a FABULOUS 7 miler the weekend before.  It really was just “one of those  things.”

Why am I posting this, you ask? Well, this summer seems to have bred quite a few newbie runners (either something in the water, or it’s contagious) who are shooting for long distances.  I want to encourage folks to keep going after a bad run. If I can do it, you totally can. And I can.

I took a yoga class with a friend yesterday which seems to have helped stretch out my muscles, and I am ready to start all over again today for this week.  It’s gonna be a better week.

I am sitting in my cubicle at work.

I have carefully measured my coffee consumption, starch ingestion and limited the number of veggies I am allowed to eat in a day before going home.

I am hoping that no one needs to see me today. I jokingly have been referring to it as my “protective shield” for the last few days but…

I cannot stop farting.

I just came back from Mexico and along with the hangovers, few extra pounds and questionable hours of missing time came the worst case of stomach grossness since I came back from Costa Rica last year. Will I ever learn?

I knew what I was doing as I would suck back one caipirinha after another while lazying around the pool reading a book, or after taking a walk along the absolutely beautiful ocean. I know. Your heart is breaking for me.

It was the ice, and I knew it. But I really wanted that Cachaça. It’s not so popular stateside, and I LOVE it. And to drink it lukewarm would be like eating Jello before it can mold, I’d be missing the point. So I just drank them super-fast so that not much of the ice would melt. Of course, this would make me want another one pretty quickly so….This plan was flawless. And certainly not a recipe for disaster. Or drunkenness.

Scene of the crime : )

We stayed at this beautiful all-inclusive resort in Mexico and managed to successfully do almost NOTHING for 6 days and 5 nights except for eat excessively, drink excessively and shift the ratio of hours spent sleeping to exceed the hours spent awake. In short: It was heavenly. And now, back in reality, it’s a little bit smelly. And humorous. And embarrassing.

No human should ever create these smells. If anyone has a remedy, I am all ears.  Just tell me over the phone, vs. coming over to see me.

Until further notice.

A lobster who will never be named Oscar.

Most people view lobster as a luxurious food.  Sexy images of butter sauce dripping off the meat  and finger licking after eating each indulgent buttery bite. It’s thought of as a treat for an occasion, or a vacation “must have” in a place such as Maine or Newport.

I grew up Kosher, so as a kid I never had lobster or shellfish. As an adult, someone has just thrown an oversized cooked BUG on my plate and I am supposed to cut open its shell, take out its insides, scrape off  its slimy eggs from what I assume to be a crotchal region of some sort (do Lobsters have a crotch?), and suck out the tiny bits of meat that are in its appendages.

Can I have a salad instead, please?

Really, I shouldn’t be invited to the lobster prepping portion of the evening. It starts with me thinking that I want to see them squirming in the box.  I cringe at the clicking and moving around that are just not noises or actions that I want my food to make.  In fact, I’d rather my food not make any noise. Then, when one tries to climb out of the box, I scream, which makes the person currently trying to dump a bug into a boiling pot cringe, which makes the lobster apparently cringe. See? We are eating something that has the capacity to cringe.  And I get yelled at for it!

The problem is, I can’t be reminded that my food wasn’t always food.  I have issues with this. I was once a vegetarian for three years when a friend innocently pointed to a ham, turkey and roast beef sub I was eating and said, “So, you know, three animals died to make that sandwich.”

Since the man-friend quite likes lobster, I would not be shocked for us to end up with a pet lobster one day.  Y’know, when he tries to bring home some live ones for dinner.  He can cook his.  I’ll name mine Oscar.

So, the lobster never to be known as Oscar is now plopped on my plate at a dinner party in honor of my man-friend’s 37th birthday. There’s a lot of wine already consumed, and even a bottle of Patron which has gotten a bit of a workout.  The four others smile with delight, and expertly crack open their bugs.

I freeze.

I also eye some potatoes and asparagus across the table, wondering if I can hide the bug under those, and not have to eat it. I then start to plot putting it back onto the pile of lobsters in the queue for round two when, “Here honey, let me help you.”  The man-friend reaches over, cracks open the shell and pulls out the meat in expert fashion before I can say anything.  He then puts it back on my plate.

I see a slimy film on the meat and say, “What’s that?”

“Eggs?” He shrugs. This confirms my initial thought.

 I cannot eat this.

Luckily, the bottle of Patron did its job and suddenly my best-friend appeared.  Drunkenness. On everyone’s part.  The laughter, conversation and the fact that the meal was shared with loved ones overpowered any of the negativity that may have been oozing from my face.  I did eat some of the lobster and fully agree that lobster tastes good. It’s just not an easy food for me to eat.

The dinner was quite wonderful, and I got to celebrate the birth of my favorite person ever with the woman who made it all happen. Besides, not eating the lobster left plenty of room for delicious birthday cake.

Perhaps a bit TOO prepared.

You would think with the amount of business travel I do for work that I would be an expert packer.  You would think 20 minutes from laundry to suitcase; zip it up and out the door.  If there was a game show about such a thing, you would think I could win big.


I am the worst packer ever.

Admittedly, I was never a girl scout, but I still always like to be prepared.

The man-friend and I are leaving the country for the Caribbean for 4.5 days.  Days. Not weeks, months or years.  One could assume I could go 5 days without needing Band-aids, Imodium, tampons (no, I am not due, and yes, I am on the pill, so I know exactly when I am due, and it’s never off), razor blades, a curling iron, scarves or an umbrella. Why wouldn’t I wear three different pairs of sandals?  And let’s not even count the number of dresses, bathing suits, necklaces or pairs of panties that are coming along for the ride.

Most tricky is the running gear that I am bringing.  If you aren’t a runner, translate this to whatever sport you train for.  You can’t go 5 days without doing it, so in my suitcase goes two running outfits, my sneakers, a hat, the ipod arm-band, a water bottle and my fabulous GPS watch.  ‘Cause, you know, that doesn’t take up any room at all. Sigh.

I keep staring at my suitcase willing it to be less full but…oddly it’s not working. I may actually have to remove things from it. But what if I need something?

I guess I don’t think stores exist in St. Martaan.

My good friend Thea had the best advice of the day, “Buy a sarong when you get there and wear it the whole time. It’s a skirt, a wrap and a dress all in one.” She’s so smart. I want to invent more things that serve multiple functions.  Like sunglasses that can brush your hair.  Or a book that doubles as a mirror. Or a dog that doubles as an intelligent member of a household.  Oh wait, that exists.  Just not in mine.

Snowflake Melting Agent.

Anyway, wish me luck that my flight makes it out of the snow and ice without major issues. See?  There’s another good multi-use item idea. A snowflake that doubles as a melting agent.

Best idea ever.