Holy Shit Balls, I Survived 13.1 Miles!

I did it!  I fucking did it!  I joined the Dark Side…errr….I mean I completed the Disney Dark Side Half Marathon!!!!!!!   I ran a half marathon!!!!!!  Check that shit off the bucket list.

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Pre-race nervous smile

I was nervous in the days and hours leading up to the race, since it was going to be very early in the morning, and the weather was going to be warmer than what I typically ran in.  Was I going to have to take a pre-race shit?  Or even worse, a during the race shit?  I was concerned about refueling and water and how often I should do them.  I had practiced on my training runs, but I still didn’t feel supremely confident that I’d pick the right time to tank up.  Maybe I’d wait too long and have my energy just circle down the drain, never to be recovered.  Or I’d not wait long enough, and then be waterlogged or dealing with side stitches during the race.  How long was it going to take me to finish?  Would I even finish?  I had NO idea what to expect.

I have to say, I surprised myself.  The longest training run I’d done was 10 miles, so not the full race distance.  As the time and the miles dragged on, I was expecting to have moments of “What the fuck was I thinking?” or “I can’t do it!” or “I won’t be able to finish!” or “This was another ‘bright’ idea!!!!” <insert sarcasm here>.

That never came.  I was so shocked that I didn’t have all this negative self-talk.  Instead, it was positive and encouraging!  Shocker right?  I kept saying to myself, “You’ve trained for this.  You can do this!”  And I could.  And I did.

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My race bling

When I saw the finish line, I was expecting to well up with tears and start bawling.  That didn’t happen either.  It took me 3 hours and 13 minutes.  I was hoping to get done in 3 hours, but in reality, I’m just thrilled I was able to finish.  I felt so elated and ecstatic that I set this big goal for myself, methodically approached it, and then I ran off and did it!  I fucking did it!

Watch out world.  Who knows what is next for me.

I might need an alibi

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

Well shitballs

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

 

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

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

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

Ella training – a total work in progress

My stride must be off. It feels like one leg is longer than the other, almost like I’m dragging one leg. Knee surgery from high school is messing with me, I always baby my left leg and when I attempted to jog on the treadmill for the first time in… well… ever, I noticed that it seemed like I was dragging my leg. The way my left foot hit was different and after one singular mile my hips hurt… so off to chiropractor and running shoe store (easy up-sell for today) for an evaluation I will go.
I actually have an appointment to talk to my general doctor about my gait, to make sure it’s not something I need old people orthopedic shoes for… cause those, those babies are hella sexy

But the answers to why I’m doing this are as follows:

YES I totally got caught up in Robin’s hype and excitement for doing a runDisney event.

YES I want to stay on track for continuing to lose the weight I gained before, during, and after baby.

YES I totally want to do this damn thing that I’ve talked about doing for over three years now and be held accountable by someone who will be doing it with me…

but mainly, and this is so so fucking wrong, but I’m doing this damn thing because a cocksucker in another department was joking with a co-worker of mine. When the subject came up that I was going to do this whole 1/2 marathon event, his response was, “she doesn’t even like getting up to go to the printer”. Fucka youa dude.

like OUCH, did you really need to say that? Yes I’m incredibly lazy here at my state office job. But I stay in my corner cubicle to avoid hearing those kinds of interactions. The audible conversations of those that have nothing better to do than to shit talk about other people. Not going to lie; Robin and I are total damn bitches on gChat about other people but we do it in private, like the fucking ladies we are.

So there you have it, where I’m at so far and the reasons for running.