The weather has been on the cold side, the husband out of town, and children's schedules unpredictable, translating into little exercise time for mom. In an act of desperation for some of those sweet all-natural endorphins I decided to try a Jillian Michael's 30 day shred workout.
The 20 minute workout wasn't that bad (read:I was nearly in tears), but what I really wasn't prepared for was the morning after. No wonder Jillian can promise rapid results, you're so sore the next day it's a struggle to make it to the kitchen. Bend down to grab the box of cereal you wanted to eat for breakfast? I don't think so! I'll stick with the bananas at arms reach on the counter. The video should contain an extra warning for mothers of young children. Caution: your two-year-old will be faster than you the day following this workout, and forget about bending down to pick anything (children, toys or bits of dinner) off the floor for at least three days.
Here's to a happy Friday in shuffle mode. Cheers!
Friday, March 14, 2014
Monday, March 10, 2014
A few thoughts....
In what crazy realm would a two-year-old be considered an adult? Come on airline companies, have you ever met a two year old adult!?!
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Run with a stranger
A mile into my run an older man takes a side street onto the street I am running. He appeared to be running very slowly. After chasing him for a nearly a quarter of a mile I came to the realization that I wasn't running very quickly either. (In my defense running uphill with a jogger is no simple task.)
When I reached the gentle down hill segment of my run I took the opportunity to surge ahead of my fellow running. A conversation started between us as we waited for an intersection to clear. We causally talked as we continued on. He told me about running a marathon with his daughter. I share a few memories of running with my dad. Before I knew it I was back to my old familiar turn to home. I waved goodbye and thanked him for the enjoyable run.
This isn't the first time I've run with a stranger. I ran 15 of my 21 miler with a random women running the same distant, direction, and time as me along the local running trail (what are the odds?.) During the marathon I ran the first 6 and the last 3 miles with a someone I met at the starting line. Running has a magical ability of taking two people and creating a connection. Despite all the difference that might exist in the universe you are bound by at least one commonality.
Running.
Running at that location.
Running at that time.
Running at that pace.
Yes, we come from diverse backgrounds, and go on to accomplish a variety of things, but for that one moment we are all the same. Runners. And that is what transforms strangers into friends . . . at least for a few miles.
When I reached the gentle down hill segment of my run I took the opportunity to surge ahead of my fellow running. A conversation started between us as we waited for an intersection to clear. We causally talked as we continued on. He told me about running a marathon with his daughter. I share a few memories of running with my dad. Before I knew it I was back to my old familiar turn to home. I waved goodbye and thanked him for the enjoyable run.
This isn't the first time I've run with a stranger. I ran 15 of my 21 miler with a random women running the same distant, direction, and time as me along the local running trail (what are the odds?.) During the marathon I ran the first 6 and the last 3 miles with a someone I met at the starting line. Running has a magical ability of taking two people and creating a connection. Despite all the difference that might exist in the universe you are bound by at least one commonality.
Running.
Running at that location.
Running at that time.
Running at that pace.
Yes, we come from diverse backgrounds, and go on to accomplish a variety of things, but for that one moment we are all the same. Runners. And that is what transforms strangers into friends . . . at least for a few miles.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Pregnant? Nah. Just nauseous.
Yesterday I felt a little queasy. Naturally my first response is "Oh my gosh, I'm pregnant!" That hypothesis was slightly weakened when I woke up at 1:30 am (is that even considered morning?) to the sound of my dear husband dry heaving in the bathroom. Can pregnancy hormones spread that quickly? Not likely. Guess it must be the stomach flu.
I'd love to write more on the subject, but I gotta run.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Ice cream and relish don't mix
Multitasking is my way of life. My dad likes to call it 'bundling'.
Recently a friend invited me to a local mom's group. Ever determined to get the most out of my time I decided to drop by on the way home from my run. That way I could exercise, spend quality time with my daughter, soak up some sunny vitamin D, and meet a new friend to two.
But like ice cream and relish, somethings don't mix well.
Approaching the back yard play date I could feel the sweat starting to run down my face. Writing this makes me wonder why a little red flag didn't pop up in my head. "Warning! Warning! You are smelly and sweaty and gross!" Must have been a cranial malefaction. Perhaps running endorphins shut off reasonable cognitive processes.
I had imagined the group full of happy young mothers eager and excited to make a new acquaintance. Instead everyone seem slightly . . . hesitant. After a few uncomfortable moments of forcing pleasantries I headed home.
Before hopping in the shower I casually looked in the mirror. "Oh" I thought, as I saw my reflection. Oily, stringy hair was falling out of a sagging pony tail. The remains of yesterday's make-up mixed with sweat had made black smear marks underneath my eyes. My randomly selected shirt and short combo clashed against my mismatched socks. Naturally I had left my wedding ring at home. Overall I looked very much like wandering hobo except instead of a grocery cart I had a jogging stroller.
I couldn't help but smile. And then laugh at the thought that crossed my mind. At least I have all my teeth!
Recently a friend invited me to a local mom's group. Ever determined to get the most out of my time I decided to drop by on the way home from my run. That way I could exercise, spend quality time with my daughter, soak up some sunny vitamin D, and meet a new friend to two.
But like ice cream and relish, somethings don't mix well.
Approaching the back yard play date I could feel the sweat starting to run down my face. Writing this makes me wonder why a little red flag didn't pop up in my head. "Warning! Warning! You are smelly and sweaty and gross!" Must have been a cranial malefaction. Perhaps running endorphins shut off reasonable cognitive processes.
I had imagined the group full of happy young mothers eager and excited to make a new acquaintance. Instead everyone seem slightly . . . hesitant. After a few uncomfortable moments of forcing pleasantries I headed home.
Before hopping in the shower I casually looked in the mirror. "Oh" I thought, as I saw my reflection. Oily, stringy hair was falling out of a sagging pony tail. The remains of yesterday's make-up mixed with sweat had made black smear marks underneath my eyes. My randomly selected shirt and short combo clashed against my mismatched socks. Naturally I had left my wedding ring at home. Overall I looked very much like wandering hobo except instead of a grocery cart I had a jogging stroller.
I couldn't help but smile. And then laugh at the thought that crossed my mind. At least I have all my teeth!
Monday, August 27, 2012
Running is hard
Saturday was a long run. Long as in18 miles long.
Long runs are inherently hard. They take incredible amounts of time, planning, mental toughness, and obviously physical endurance.
However, somehow about knowing a long run is hard, makes it easier.
For example I don't give myself grief when I'm dying at mile 17 because, heck, its mile 17!
Today was a short 'easy' run. Easy being a very relative word to my sore, stiff, tired, tight muscles.
Three milers are killer. I think I'll stick with 18ers.
Long runs are inherently hard. They take incredible amounts of time, planning, mental toughness, and obviously physical endurance.
However, somehow about knowing a long run is hard, makes it easier.
For example I don't give myself grief when I'm dying at mile 17 because, heck, its mile 17!
Today was a short 'easy' run. Easy being a very relative word to my sore, stiff, tired, tight muscles.
Three milers are killer. I think I'll stick with 18ers.
Friday, August 3, 2012
First post
Some days I can't wait to head out the door and let my feet hit the pavement. But even with my slightly unrealistically optimistic attitude those days are still far and few between.
What does that even mean, "far and few between?"
Anyways...
As the clock approached nap time for baby, my internal clock was pointing me towards my own bed. Despite the welcoming, beckoning, wonderful call of sleep I managed to mind-over-body myself out of the house.
After attempting a new route with the jogger (not very successful{silly tree roots bumpifying the sidewalk, and cars driving way too fast on the road}) I resorted to my usual loop. The steady pounding of my feet felt good. My pace is less than fast, but something about the consistency sounded strong. Feeling strong makes me smile.
Writing about the run paints a funny picture in my mind: fatigued woman, drenched with sweat, trudging up a hill with a jogging stroller, smiling to herself.
Makes me sound delusional. Or inspirational. Or delusional.
What does that even mean, "far and few between?"
Anyways...
As the clock approached nap time for baby, my internal clock was pointing me towards my own bed. Despite the welcoming, beckoning, wonderful call of sleep I managed to mind-over-body myself out of the house.
After attempting a new route with the jogger (not very successful{silly tree roots bumpifying the sidewalk, and cars driving way too fast on the road}) I resorted to my usual loop. The steady pounding of my feet felt good. My pace is less than fast, but something about the consistency sounded strong. Feeling strong makes me smile.
Writing about the run paints a funny picture in my mind: fatigued woman, drenched with sweat, trudging up a hill with a jogging stroller, smiling to herself.
Makes me sound delusional. Or inspirational. Or delusional.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)