Avoiding Self-Sabotage (Don’t ask me…still working on it)

On By ErinIn Exercise, LifeLeave a comment

How do you not sabotage yourself?  How do you nix it or nip it in the bud once and for all?  I’ve been so frustrated with myself today, but at the same time, am trying to have compassion for myself, as I’m trying to unlearn some bad habits.

Growing up, I was the one that my mom and sisters compared themselves against.  I was the fat yardstick – they felt better about themselves when they weighed less than me.  Or their waist was smaller than mine.  I distinctly remember them being giddy with excitement after they saw what I weighed compared to them.  I never realized until I was an adult what a terrible fucking awful and shitty thing that is to do to someone.  To make me be the “fat one”.  The “less than” one.  (Or more than in this instance.)  Just so they could feel better about themselves.

I’ve had a lifetime of feeling like I don’t measure up to others, that somehow there is something wrong with me.  And from that train of thought comes the all or nothing thinking when I’m having a bad day.  It goes something like this, “Well, let’s just plow through the entire bag of peanut butter chocolate puppy chow mix, since you’ve had half the bag already.”  So I eat until I am sick.  And numb.

I’ve realized it is the numb part that I’m seeking during these times.  The place where I’m beyond any kind of feeling.  Usually something uncomfortable.  And when I unpack it in my logical brain, it all makes sense.  I’ve been without any kind of schedule for 3 weeks now.  My last day at work was 2/5, and I’m floundering with the lack of routine or regular people interaction that came from my job.  I’ve been trying to fill in the gaps with lunch dates with friends, exercise, networking, applying for jobs, etc. but it’s just not the same.  And I’m nervous about finding a new job.

It’s not all hopeless, as I do see progress in my journey.  I used to go on huge emotional eating binges for days, and the episodes have become less and less throughout the years.  I’m more hypersensitive to my habits especially now because of my daughter.  I don’t want to burden her with my baggage.  Life is hard enough without adding your mother’s shit on top of everything else.  I wish I knew the magic formula to turn it off.

How do you cope in times of uncertainty?  What are your go-to strategies?  What helps you not to numb out when you are scared/afraid/etc.?

Body After Baby

On By ErinIn Life, Relationships, SexLeave a comment

I’ve been dumbfounded at what has happened to my body after having my daughter.   No one prepares you for the shit that happens to you in the weeks and months after giving birth.  I hear everyone talk about enjoying the time with the baby!  And sleep when the baby sleeps!  But the reality is that you are not only dealing with a new role in your life, as a mother, you are also dealing with the very real physical changes that come along with motherhood.  Those that say that you’ll be back in your jeans in no time or that breastfeeding melts the pounds away – fuck you, you goddamn liars!

I feel the need to preface this for any men that may read this post.  If you have a significant other, and she hasn’t given birth yet, you may want to cruise on past this post.  A ‘read at your own risk’ kind of warning.  I’m going to describe things that are:  embarrassing, horrifying, ugly, and generally unpleasant.  This shit is frightening and I think my husband still hasn’t recovered from all the trauma yet.

My birth was pretty traumatic and to make a long story short, there were forceps involved.  I had had an epidural but I felt everything!  I was pretty much a wreck downstairs for several months postpartum.  I am pretty sure that I had some type of nerve damage from the forceps, because initially during sex I had a huge loss in sensation (some has since returned).  Honest to God, I had times during sex where I was tempted to ask my husband, “Is it in yet?” because I didn’t feel ANY. THING.  And this had nothing to do with the size of my husband’s junk.  Some positions were better than others, but overall it was a devastating feeling not to feel much of anything.  Even now, 15 months later, I still feel as though I have decreased sensation.  And it takes me much longer to physically be ready for sex.  All in all, sex has not been that enjoyable for me post-baby.

The return home with baby was memorable.  I had a 9 lb. baby and when I came home 2 days later, I only weighed 4 lbs. less.  You do the math on that one.  I was so swollen from all of the IV fluids that I’d had that it took weeks for me to lose any significant amount of weight.  The night we came home, I walked into the house and felt this warm sensation running down the inside of my thigh and down my leg.  I thought it might have been some type of bleeding, and went immediately to the bathroom.  It wasn’t blood….I had pissed my pants.  With zero warning or signal from my body!

It got better when a few days later, while wearing my sexy adult diaper and putting dishes in the dishwasher, I felt something down below and before I knew it, it was already too late.  I was crapping myself.  Again, no warning!  Nothing!  Not even an SOS that a code brown was coming!!!!  I remember whispering to my husband, who was next to me, “I am shitting my pants…” and he grabbed me by the elbow, and in a rush, tried to escort me to the bathroom.  I just shook my head and said quietly, “Just leave me here.”  The damage had already been done.  The moment of humiliation happened.  I cried so hard that night.  It’s so frustrating to feel like you have no control over your bodily functions!

I distinctly remember going for my first run after getting cleared at my 6 week check-up.  During my run I had full on pissed my pants.  Not just a tinkle.  Not just a little pee pee.  I had fucking soaked my pants.  I walked in the door, and the hubs excitedly asked how my run had went and I burst into tears!  It took several minutes to even get the words out to tell him what had happened.  It was that kind of ugly cry.

When I’m not dealing with physical issues from my birth battle wounds, there are the emotional ones that are just as tough.  The hubs and I had been talking about sex, and things that we like, and I bravely confessed that I’m sad he hasn’t gone down on me since before I was pregnant.  That’s like over 2 years!

He had explained, that with my issue with certain bodily functions, that he may get peed on during the deed.  That’s why he’d been hesitant to go down on me.  In his defense, I totally get his hesitation.  On Sunday, while our daughter was sleeping, we were in the middle of getting it on, and my husband started to do what I had missed for 2 years – he went down on me!

I wish I could tell you that I enjoyed it.  But I didn’t.  At all.  I was afraid to enjoy it.  I was afraid that I would indeed pee on him, even though the whole pissing myself thing rarely happens any longer.  I partially credit hoo-ha therapy (Yes!  I went to hoo-ha therapy…or pelvic floor therapy) and getting back into workout routine with the decrease.  I was afraid to climax because what if I did pee on him?  And then there was the whole thought process of what my vagina looks like after pushing out a  baby and tearing during the process…and well, yeah, Operation Downtown was a big fucking flop.

I sit here thinking, “Why are you writing all this embarrassing shit about yourself, Robin?  What’s the fucking point of all this?”  And honestly, maybe this will help someone.  This is stuff that I wished I had known about before becoming a mother.  So I wouldn’t feel so emotionally jarred when these things occurred.  Had I known, then I would have been able to tell myself, “Hey buddy girl, this is a part of the process.  This happens to other moms.” Instead of feeling alone.  And dysfunctional.  And abnormal.

What I have realized out of all of this is that I am grateful for my husband for helping me find my new normal.  And our new normal as a couple.  I’ve also realized the need to be compassionate with myself.  That it takes time for your body (and your mind) to recover from giving birth.  I look at my little pooch on my stomach, and I’m not embarrassed, but I think incredulously, “I grew my daughter in there!”  And there’s a strength that comes from having gone through this whole process.  I approach things differently, because if I can grow and birth a human being, what else can I do?  What else am I capable of?

 

I might need an alibi

On By lilbear083In Can't Make This Shit Up, Life, RunningLeave a comment

U.G.L.Y. You ain’t got no alibi you ugly, eh, hey you ugly

Sorry, anytime I hear the word alibi I think of that damn song.

Here’s the thing. I am now completely convinced that my husband either has a death wish or wants me to fail miserably at this fucking 1/2 deal. I  am set to run three days a week, Tuesday and Thursday for 20-45 minutes and Saturday for mileage. For the most part, I’ve kept up that schedule with PiYo on M/W/F and weights on Sunday…then I got sick and I would go like one day of massive workouts, 2 PiYo’s, four miles, and weights… and then get sick again…

He’s been okay about Saturdays, he’d take our little guy out to the library, the zoo, lunch whatever, to get out of the house and wear the little guy down so he would nap when he got home right after eating lunch. Then it got cold and my husband turned into a little twat, “it’s too cold out to go anywhere”. Really dude, too cold for you to get into the car that is in our heated garage and go drive with the heater on as you head into a place that 9/10 will have heated underground parking. You will never actually BE outside… REALLY? Because then it is just SOOO much work to entertain our child while I’m in the other room for 1-3 hours… let’s be real. I never get more than 1.5 hours. *sigh*

This week, this week makes me question the motives, either he wants to die or he wants me to fail and I’m not totally convinced either way. I finally got my (oh TMI warning before I go too far) period (59 days late) along with a round of food poisoning.

Monday I was off work, he went to work, little guy went to day care, Mommy stayed home and got in a decent workout with a run. Progress report I’m currently at an “almost dying but still surviving” pace of 15:48, if I can keep this up and improve then I should be able to finish this damn run without the Disney Police picking my ass up at one of the mile markers. All was well and right in the world. I even got some school stuff done. yay me

Tuesday I go to work, eat my “this will help me lose some weight and be healthy” soup for lunch… I got about half way through it when I started rifling through the trash can to check the date. It didn’t taste bad, but was making my tummy upset… nope good til aug 2016.. we’re good… oh wait I feel… sick… to the bathroom. Hey check it out. PERIOD showed up… maybe that’s why I’m not feeling so hot. Doctors did say it was going to be a period from hell… yes, that’s why. back to desk. 10 minutes before I leave for the afternoon I proceed to puke at my desk. Haven’t done that since I was pregnant, THAT’s how urgent that shit was for me. go home obviously not going to run so I get child from daycare, hold it together while calling my dear sweet loving husband telling him he needs to get his ass home asap… he couldn’t hear me “text me babe”… my text “get your ass home asap, I’m dying to sit on the toilet to shit my brains out while puking into the trashcan that is lined with diapers you forgot to empty. I cooked nothing please get food for kid and you because the smell of food is only making it worse” response “ok, will do”… he worked LATER than normal. no text, no call. Get’s home, I hand him the remote for Paw Patrol dvd and head to the bathroom as I hear “What am I supposed to feed him?” from down the hall… I text… chicken nuggets, follow directions on bag, turn on fan… then I started clocking it. He would walk down the hall, open the door to our bedroom, peak into the bathroom and either say nothing, sigh heavily and walk out or ask “are you done yet?”, sigh heavily and walk out… want to guess… take a guess how many times he did that

 

I can wait

 

 

well, you’re reading this so no one is really waiting

 

18 times in ONE FUCKING HOUR. I got up, grabbed the pepto I asked him to bring me at entry #8, head downstairs with that and my Epsom salt. I took a hour long bath downstairs, why you ask, why go downstairs. Well my loves, because my husband is a grade A lazy ass… he’ll walk back and forth down the hall all goddamn day… but go downstairs, well, that’d mean he would have to go back UP the stairs. And if our kid saw him go downstairs WITHOUT going with, he’d lose his shit. (The jumper is downstairs, along with the other toys that he loves that drive me up the wall so we keep them out of sight out of mind). I was left alone to feel like an evil genius. Epsom salt and a drop or two of lavender is GREAT for cramps and nausea by the way. I start to feel better, make my little man a bottle for bed and head to my room. Husband had to put the baby to bed, so sorry dear… whatever. He comes to bed bitching and moaning that “he was really in a mood tonight”. I faked being asleep.

Wednesday – I feel BETTER. like MUCH better. cramps are no joke, but I feel good. Due to one car household he has to go home get baby and then come get me from work. I offer to call in for a pizza from a lovely artisan place in town. He agrees only after asking, “will you be joining us for dinner or hiding in the bathroom all night again?”. I KNOW RIGHT? How is he not dead or verbally assaulted lol I kid I kid, but seriously, I was boiling… if anyone is “hiding” in the bathroom it’s him and his bejewled game during a 45 minute shit after I’ve asked him to do something. Y’all know that “oh yea I’ll do that, right after I poop, I have to go to the bathroom right now” line…  gah… I say, “maybe I can get a run in tonight since I feel better” response “well if you need a reason to hide again I guess”. so of course I don’t because at that point he’s handing me my child….

get home and he’s going on and on about how “difficult” it was dealing with our son alone… oh you mean like I do when you’re out in the field five days a week? *sigh* so yea. I go to bed at 9, play on my phone and pass out at 10. He didn’t finish whatever movie or game he was playing til about 1130… Baby wakes up WIDE AWAKE wakes up at 3am… he whines, not the baby MY HUSBAND, “I need sleep, can’t you deal with him” … oh because I don’t need sleep… SURE… fucker. Background, once I’m up, I’m UP, there is no go back to sleep for me. Him, get up, piss, drink water, snack, whatever, plop back down and snoring away in less than 5 minutes… we know this about each other. And yet. I’m the one that got up with our child at 3 fucking am… tried to get him back to bed, he wasn’t having it.

Now technically Thursday – We ended up watching Elmo in Grouch-land while coloring until the husband woke up, all ten minutes before the alarm was set to go off and comes out to say “do you want to go back to sleep I can stay with him now?” … insult to injury dood…

So after all that loveliness, I might need an alibi… as I can only imagine what this weekend is going to be like with him. Anyone else have a husband that travels for work and while they are gone you want them home to help, but when they are home for more than a couple of days you want them gone because they are zero help?

Pray for me

Ella

Where’s the Crafty part, Bitches?

On By ErinIn DIY1 Comment

Ella and I definitely have the Chatty part down of Chatty Crafty Bitches, but we haven’t even delved into the crafty part.  Yet.  Oh, you with bated breath, exhale! because you shall wait no longer for the crafty in our posts.  It has finally arrived.  Let’s hope it doesn’t disappoint.

Since becoming a mom to V (as in Victory, she came out of my Vagina!), I’ve become much more aware of what is going in and on my body.  And hers.  And everyone’s.  Well maybe not everyone’s body….because that would just be creepy.  Let’s talk about a few crafty ways I’m changing it up.

Organic coconut oil.  Did you know this shit is a miracle worker?!?  Do you remember the movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”?  How the dad was always spritzing Windex on everything?  Organic coconut oil is my Windex!  It goes on everything.  It’s now my nighttime moisturizer, it’s V’s diaper rash cream, I’ve used it in recipes, it’s in a lip scrub I love!, I’ve put it on V’s eczema, and I’ve even gotten the husband into using it!  He’s cooking with it and moisturizing his balls with it.  (Guys in case you are wondering, coconut oil makes those suckers kissably soft.  Just sayin’.)

I’m also using essential oils in cleaners or as ways to scent the home instead of regular candles and harsh cleaners.  I’ve become hyper aware that it matters that we not breathe in chemicals or that V doesn’t pick up some crazy chemicals if she decides to pick up that banana from the floor and eat it.  Which she totally does.  My best carpet deodorizer?  Baking soda + essential oils.  My favorite essential oil to diffuse?  Citrusy ones like lemon, orange, or grapefruit.  Oh, here’s the diffuser I love – the colors make me so happy!  And just this week I ordered a spray deodorant made with essential oils.  Fer real.

I want to start making some of these things on my own, so I know exactly what is in them.  I have the essential oils, coconut oil, and other things to make moisturizers, lip balms, etc.  More to come on this…

I’ve started a small indoor garden.  I’d like my daughter to see some of our food come from us, from our own hands…we planted it, nurtured it, grew it, and harvested it.  While I love the idea, I sincerely hope I won’t kill the plants because I forget to water them.  (Which reminds me, need to have the husband invent some type of self-watering system where the plants whisper “I’m dying!!!!!!” and then water is released.  Or something like that.)

I’m getting back to composting too!  And the husband and I are seriously considering downsizing to a tiny house in the next few years as well.

Bottom line, I’m really concerned about my footprint in the world and how I can help minimize our waste.  I’m worried about what kind of Earth my child will have to live on after I’m gone.  I want to do my part to make it a better one.

 

My Brain is Broken

On By ErinIn Can't Make This Shit Up, LifeLeave a comment

So I’ve read a lot about the power of positive thinking. I’m sure you’ve heard such catch phrases as “change your thinking, change your life!” and “your thoughts determine your destiny”.  But for the life of me my default is worst case scenario.  I’m trying to change that, I really am….but it ain’t easy.

For example, I was impacted at my job, so I’m looking for work right now.  Even though I was given 3 months of severance, this is the thought process that went through my head. Keep in mind that I did the calculations on this, and with my husband working full-time, that money should be able to last/stretch us for at least 6 months….without tapping into our savings.  What if I don’t find a job right away?  What if no one wants to hire me?  What if I can’t find work?  What if we run out of money?  What if we can’t pay the mortgage?  What if we have to move?   What if we lose our cars, our house?  OMG WE’RE GONNA BE BANKRUPT, HOMELESS, AND IN FINANCIAL RUIN BECAUSE OF ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Another recent example.  I’m sure you’ve all heard or read something about the Zika virus by now.  Since the hubs works for an airline, we have travel benefits, and he’s mentioned wanting to go to South America (particularly Brazil, Chile, Peru areas), Latin America (Mexico, Costa Rica, etc.)…and I believe all of the countries I’ve mentioned have had Zika outbreaks.  I get that this impacts pregnant women only.  Am I pregnant?  No.  Are we actively trying to get pregnant?  Fuck no!  But where did my brain go?  WHAT AM I GOING TO DO WHEN I GET PREGNANT WITH A ZIKA BABY?

In both instances I was legit terrified for a bit.  (or awhile.)  My brain spins out of control, thinking about all of the “what if” situations until I am a nervous, anxious frenzied hot mess.  My husband doesn’t understand it at all, and it’s completely frustrating to him.  Well guess what buddy?  It’s completely frustrating to me too!  It’s no fun to feel completely paralyzed by something that will probably never happen but in your mind, you’ve envisioned it happening so clearly, how can it not come to pass?  This is a daily struggle for me.  I’m trying to reign it in.

I’ve been exercising regularly, as an outlet.  I’m also getting back to writing/blogging/journaling.  I’ve also started doing meditation.  Ok, I’ve half-assed the meditation bit. I have a guided medication app on my phone called “Breathe” and it’s been at least two weeks since I’ve used it.  And the meditations are short, between like 3-5 minutes, so I have zero excuse not to do it daily.  And from what I’ve read, daily meditation might be my miracle cure.

For those of you anxious worriers out there like me, how do you turn off the stream of “what ifs” in your life?  How do you quiet the noise?   What techniques have worked for you?  This worrier needs your advice.  BRB – going to meditate so I can change my thinking and change my life (because I need a job goddamnit!).

Parenting with Different Backgrounds

On By ErinIn Kidlets, Life, RelationshipsLeave a comment

Last night was another fight in the Von Poopenberg household over our kid. Well maybe not fight. Let’s go with discussion instead.  Sure, that sounds better.

Today is the hubs birthday.  Last night, we had a sitter lined up and had plans to meet some friends for dinner and drinks.  We bring V home from daycare yesterday, and while I was holding her, she starts throwing up.  She threw up on me twice, and then again, after I had hauled her upstairs and had given her a bath.  She didn’t have a fever or anything, but I didn’t feel right about leaving her with a sitter while she’s not feeling well.  The hubs suggested that we go to dinner anyway, bring her, because she appears to be fine now.  I vehemently disagree.  As the time ticks away, we try to figure out what to do.  He tells me “I don’t want to leave you alone while she’s sick.”  I tell him I don’t feel comfortable leaving her, regardless of the reason why she is sick.  I tell him I want to stay home to monitor her.  Five minutes later, he tells me he’s going to meet our friends for drinks and will be back later.  With that, he grabbed his keys and left.

I was a bit dumbfounded.  And then I was angry.  So I put the kadiddle to bed, and I end up staying in the bedroom because I don’t want to be far away from her.  What if she throws up again?  Sure, I could turn on the monitor but I don’t want to be on another floor if she needs me right away.  So I lay in bed, reading for awhile.  I try to sleep but every time she rolls over or makes a sound, I sit straight up in bed panicked.  Then I sit listening, straining to make sure she is still breathing.  And still stewing about the earlier interaction with the hubs.

He starts texting me, telling me that “I felt bottled up and trying to understand your perspective when mine was fighting was making things hard on me” and “our perspectives were clashing in my head” so that’s why he left.  He got home later and we had a very pained conversation about it.  He doesn’t understand why I was so worried, because as he said, “If your finger was still attached, then it wasn’t a problem”…meaning in his family, you didn’t get attention for simple sickness.  Only when it was something catastrophic.  He went on to say that he is trying to see things from my perspective but he’s having a difficult time.  And that I’m a first time mother, so compared to his mom (who had 6 kids) I react differently.  So I tell him that from my point of view, when my kid is sick, that is my first priority.  And I’d rather be home with her than out and about.  And then I ask him, “After you’ve thrown up, for whatever the reason, did you feel like doing anything?!?”  And what I don’t tell him is that it felt like friends won out over his family.  That his daughter had thrown up three times, and he still felt the need to go out and have beers, even though he was out with the same gang the night before, and would be going out again tonight.

Our conversation ended with no real resolution.  I feel like we camped over in our corners, respectively, waiting for the bell to ding again for the next round of fighting.  I’m struggling to understand how he’d want to go out still (granted it was his birthday celebration) and he’s struggling to understand why I worry so much about her, when in his mind, she is fine.  I think our different styles of parenting are a positive thing – we both bring different strengths to the table, and that can only benefit our daughter in the long run.  But how do you come to some sort of compromise when you are in opposite corners?  How do you get each other to understand your point of view?

I’m stumped.  And kind of sad about that.  So I guess on that note, let me wish you all “Happy Fucking Valentine’s Day.”  This parenting shit is hard!

 

Well shitballs

On By lilbear083In UncategorizedLeave a comment

Let’s be clear that not only does weather with small (and possibly overactive toddler) make it nearly impossible to run outside. … it also spreads all kinds of germs so you can’t breathe, let alone breathe while running.  Thus I haven’t been running more than once every one to two weeks since my fall in December.  We are now less than 90 days away from the runDisney event and I’m in full on freak out mode. Add to that anxiety the fact that I don’t own a bathing suit (why would I, ain’t nobody wanna see this mess) and the anxiety heightens. So what do I do. ..
I use my real woman dollars at LB and get a $130 set for $54…. side note. Anyone else find it a little ironic that LB is short for Lane Bryant where us larger (and often taller) ladies shop. I always feel like I’m walking into an over eaters anonymous meeting (not joking I’ve gone to those it’s the feeling walking in that I’m referencing) as this giant “pounds” sign is over my head.
So I have this goal suit, we shall call it MY yellow polka dot bikini. For fucks sake even when I was fit (like 5’11” SD size 8 with a damn 4 pack after little effort) I didn’t dare wear a bikini,  thank you psycho mother for those projected body issues…. so I have this “sorta cute” blue “2 piece” that is basically a tank top with actual boob support and a “skirt”…. I got it in my current size with the hopes that it’ll “move like it’s meant to” in the next 60 days. … cause right now. …it’s a weeeee bit tight.
Okay it’s barely making it over my butt….
So

Belly sags from extra weight and shifting of fat after baby…. gotta fix that as spanx somehow missed the bathing suit for plus size market.

Being good about eating choices and working out every damn day… Even if it’s just stretching with the little guy.
Today it was PiYo core and 10 minute run. I’ve been stuck at a 17 minute mile since October so today’s at what would’ve been 16 minutes was great. I would’ve done the whole mile for tracking purposes but I was already late for pickup at daycare…. cause “work on me” only comes by flexing at work. Sigh

Pray for me to finish. I just want to finish without being carted in by a “cast member”….
#highgoals

Ella 

Well let’s never do THAT again

On By lilbear083In Can't Make This Shit Up, RunningLeave a comment

 

With roughly 120 days until death, I mean our ½ marathon, I figured I should share an update. I’m not doing so hot but keep reading (please).

I did a 5k, in North Dakota, in December, because I’m a moron. Here I thought, “Hey, we could finish in less than 3.5 hours I need to get a time in so we can get in like the fun corral!” or something like that. Robin won’t admit it but she’s a Speedy Gonzales and is already doing like 10 minute miles without killing herself. So it’s me that needs to catch up. She needs consistency, I need to get my lazy ass in gear. So I –was- running two days during the week, thanks to a decent flexing schedule and day care covering my ass, with one long run on the weekend. I say long, but really it just means I go for x distance. So I was doing 20-30 minutes “training” runs and then 2-6 miles on the weekend. I can survive. I will survive… but currently at the pace I’m going the Disney police will be carting my ass off the course and I won’t be a “finisher”… their rule is if you are slower than a 16 min/mile you are too slow to finish “on time” and are therefore disqualified from finishing… here I thought just making it to the finish line is what matter but, this is Disney World and they have a park to open with money to be made… so fuck me.

As if that rule alone didn’t sting… there’s this 5k. A “Santa run” all in good fun.

It was not fun

There were Santa’s

There was running

But there was no fun from my point of view, which was more often than not, from the ground. You see, here in the godforsaken land of North Dakota, there is ice… everywhere. The organizers told us that they “did the best” they could in clearing the tracks “but this is North Dakota and we run anyways, just try to be careful”… because being “careful” while RUNNING ON ICE is totally doable right?

Look, I know I’m not graceful, I’ve accepted that. But I WAS TRYING MY BEST NOT TO FALL AND FUCK ME I FELL EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME.

Like when I was walking.. I was fine… but I needed to get a time in and the path was all of 5 feet wide for the 430 people on the course so if you got stuck behind someone you’re stuck until the next junction….

I swear to Jesus, I was trying to get a decent time, my 300 pound self was chugging along at a 4 mile pace and staying JUST under my heart rate range limit… and as I would try to up it… I fell… then I’d have to walk until I recovered enough to feel up to running (or until I could get past some group of people laughing and talking about dinner plans)…. Then BAM on my ass again.

On my ass

On my knee

On my elbow, that hurt the worst.

ON MY BACK landing on a fucking rock that knocked the wind out of me and totally fucking embarrassed me as people stopped to make sure I was okay… and then keep running themselves. Which I appreciated, that was really nice of them to stop but still…

And I was FINE with the falling and the pain and the fucking torture of people LEAVING while I was still running because god dammit I was going to finish this with a decent time

I could’ve cheated and finished 6 minutes faster by doing only one loop instead of two in the final section… but I have morals … fucking morals.

SO I get to the finish line ready with my little stub of a paper to hand them so they can record an “official time”… at 53:15 so like 17 minute mile… THERE are groups of people taking pictures and a load of fucking people inside the building that was hosting… but no one at the line… so I walk inside, they hand me a giant fucking candy cane and say “great job you finally made it”… brush it off Ella, they don’t know what it took to get here… brush it off…. I ask “where do I turn in my stub to submit my time, there was no one at the finish line” this baffled woman says “I think they’re done with that part you could go ask them over there”… them over there… okay.. fine… I get this three times… three fucking times… I finally find the table where they are listing out the winners for each category and say, “who do I give this to so I can get my time recorded for online listing”.

I shit you not these words are forever fucking burned into my head:

“We only had someone taking the stubs until about 42 minutes, all the real runners where done long before that and we don’t have enough staff to get everyone that was walking”

How I’m not sitting in a jail cell right now I don’t fucking know.

I was fucking crushed. I know my time wasn’t going to get me into any kind of corral but I wanted something to show SOME improvement and I couldn’t believe someone would say that. The kicker, they had over 100 volunteers… four of which were within the last 30 feet of the finish line high fiving everyone as they passed… but not enough people to have someone scribble some numbers on a piece of paper…

Had I known… my first fall was maybe ten feet from my truck and I went alone, nothing was stopping me from just getting the keys out of the bed of the truck and leaving… nothing… but me. I could’ve gone home and ran in the comfort of my perfectly heated home and only had that one fall under my belt. No embarrassment. No one knew who I was. No one cared if I left. No one was “counting on me”. Like why the fuck didn’t I just leave? Had I not fallen all those time I really do think I could’ve done a 13-14 minute mile, ice and all, fucking HILLS and all. Fun fact, the incline in different areas was so steep my fitbit thought I did 17 floors…

I keep telling myself that had I known the time wasn’t going to matter I would’ve left right then and there, because that was the one that knocked the wind out of me… I don’t think anyone would’ve talked shit for me leaving after that one…

Sigh

So I send email to my doctor the next day because oh now I can’t even fucking walk… like it hurt to stand my legs were so sore. I can’t run until, well this week now, as that was almost three weeks ago. Loads of ibuprofen and positive reading and some yoga and now I think I’m okay to get back into the groove.

But I learned my lesson, never fucking again am I running in the snow/ice with a group that can’t get their shit together enough to record EVERYONE’S TIME.

 

#rantover

ELLA

This girl is on FI-YAAAAAAAAAAAA

On By lilbear083In Exercise, Relationships, RunningLeave a comment

Reasons I want to be a MILF

  1. Something about engaging in my marriage and being a piece for him or some shit like that.
  2. Something about being healthy to live long for my child, so I can keep up or some nonsense.
  3. School girl crush syndrome …

Yea… that’s pretty much it. Mostly the school girl crush thing… can’t lie.

Background:

Let’s call them Vinny & Smellson… I never did, but let’s pretend those are their names. Here’s the thing. If my wonderful and blissfully ignorant husband drops dead there are two people I would try to go after, TWO… that’s it. Not interested in meeting someone new, looking forward to the future blah blah blah. Nope, I want to pick up where I left off with two people I never dated in the first place.

I’m lame. Easy to see that, right? But with Vinny I get fucking butterflies and giddy beyond belief, to the point that I can’t even think straight. He made a reference one time to a movie that I could quote every line from start to finish, but guess what, he made the reference and I blanked. Think deer in the headlights blanked. Then for the next three weeks I just played that moment back thinking HOW DID YOU MESS THAT UP!!?!?! Gah… whatever, that happens every time I see him, granted last time was like 4 years ago but still… He’s that guy that I’ll never have but damn the man do I think about him like a LOT.

When it comes to Smellson, it’s a connection. It’s there, I see it, and not sure he ever saw it. Pretty sure he stopped talking to me because I started dating the husband when we were “hanging out more”. He made a comment once of “being respectful to a relationship”, I should’ve snapped back that it’s called DATING, not a relationship just yet. But yea. I miss him. I would’ve married him in a heartbeat but he never even had the balls to date me. He could ask me to move with him and “adventure in the Midwest” but not to fucking date me… Meh, that probably would’ve come if we did move… but I started dating other people and he decided to stay in CA so that never happened… and then look what happens, I end up in the fucking Midwest anyways… kill me now please. What’s funny is he was really getting into fitness when I was leaving, I think I’d be a MILF by now had we gotten together. Damnit!

Now back to the present:

A week or so ago I saw Vinny post something to social media about doing the Kessel Challenge, and laughed because who doesn’t love a star wars reference…. And then I thought… I wonder if that has to do with the runDisney stuff… meh… think nothing of it. Then I see him posting at dive bars in Orlando… what the what? Are you doing a half at Disneyworld right fucking now… omg…. Quick TO THE INTERNET! Sure as shit, if he runs a half/full at Disneyland (where we’re from so that’s feasible) and then the star wars half/full at Disneyworld (where Robin & I shall be) he’ll complete the challenge.

I stay silent on social media while doing the stiffest happy dance for the CHANCE to run into him in Orlando… the fucking CHANCE makes me giddy. How lame is that!?

So immediately I go from 0-90. I was just scrolling through Instagram before bed, but now, no no no… no sleep for me. Its meal planning and workout prep. I ordered cooling towels from amazon (smile.amazon of course) and then some healthy “run” snacks. I have my meals planned out for this week, including lunches. I have my workouts and runs scheduled and ready to go. I started three “challenges” on fitbit with some friends to make sure I’m at least hitting my 10k steps on my cross training days. I went shopping and spent an hour or so chopping, slicing, cooking and packing to make sure my fridge is littered with healthy-ish options for snacking and eating (which is hard because baby don’t like soup so I have to cook separate meals for him).

WHY the sudden boost in motivation… reason #3. The chance to see someone who makes me smile just by proximity. We hug, that’s how we greet. I’m a hugger that is just how I am. To clarify, I would never cheat, this is just so that I can know that I’ll feel good while possibly being around someone that makes me feel like a moron.

I want to know that if I see him at say, mile marker 10, that I will still be: breathing, upright, and not a wobbly fat mess.

Goal SET! I’m ready for this shiz!

Ella

Overachieving badass

On By lilbear083In Exercise, RunningLeave a comment

No really, my ass is terrible. Also, the worst set up in the world is what I went with when I brought my treadmill home. I wanted it in my bedroom so I could be close if baby woke up AND so I would have to stare at it getting in my way EVERY. DAMN. DAY. Which is working out great. I’m on a tues/thurs/sat running schedule with mon/wed/fri for cross training and Sunday for weights (those are downstairs where I rarely hangout).

The ass part comes in with the fact that while I’m on the treadmill I have a dresser with a large mirror to my left and a full length mirror directly in front of me. I thought ahead about the full length mirror because I wanted to watch my stride… I did not, however, think of the mirror to my left…

When I look to my left all I can see is my big ‘ole ass bouncing around back there… it ain’t pretty folks… I don’t care how much my husband loves “dat ass”… It’s just bad… thus… bad-ass… I don’t care about my chicken wings, double chin, muffin top, giant belly, thighs that could light a fire… it’s my ass that bugs me. That bad damn ass…

On the overachieving side of things: training is rough. I’m struggling with keeping the “right” pace for training and constantly feel like I should be going faster. That I’m not working hard enough, even though my legs feel like they might snap underneath me. My hip hurts. I feel like I can breathe through the running so I know it’s not my endurance, but it is, if that makes any sense. But this all goes back to my childhood and feeling like I’m not enough, not doing enough, not good enough, etc.

(Physical) Therapy has gone well so far, have some new abdomen routines to work with to keep my core from falling apart essentially. Yay for baby while being incredibly overweight (not true). My left leg is indeed longer than my right but not enough to warrant any kind of “special” or “orthopedic work ups”. Although the physical therapist did say to see how I feel after running for an extended period of time, we shall see what happens in that area.

My first training timed interval run I did an 18:31 pace (per Robin’s awesome math skills) so as of right now I would be carted off the runDisney course for being too slow… let’s improve that number shall we?

So that’s where I am at right now. Will be doing my first “long” run in training this weekend. Wish me luck.

Ella