I'm on the wagon

No wine for 11 and a half days

With one free pass.

I'm doing it different this time. I am changing what I can to make my 2nd marathon different than my first.
No wine the night before in fact no wine from here on in to November 14. Read the fine print. I have one free pass coming my way. This is how I felt the morning of the Shamrock Marathon in March.

It wasn't the wine. (though I did have 2 glasses at dinner the night before.)

I'll be in bed by 9:00 with the Yoga eye bag on. Not obsessing about every little thing, dissecting every comment and every person I know or wondering where my life is going or trying to cure cancer in my sleep, or planning my children's trek to college (they are all in elementary school). Breathe deep.

I will dress better for temperature changes during the event. I still miss my University of Denver sweatshirt I donated to the homeless of Hampton Roads along the course in March. Even though the sleeves were ragged from the chewing of a beloved lab (now expired). I hope whoever has it appreciates all the love in it.

I will have faith in my training and in my heart. I am ready. Sure I could've run a few more times and I was out for 3 weeks with an injury but I have worked hard and I'm prepared to run strong. It's all in my head now.

I will saunter to my corral look for my buddies and simply be grateful I am there.

Afterwards, I'll celebrate with a glass of wine and not wish I were dead. Last time I felt so very miserable, I forgot to be proud I'd made it.

What did you do different between marathons?

Sing it Celine!

You were my strength when I was weak

You were my voice when I couldn't speak (which is rare)

You were my eyes (legs) when I couldn't see (move)

You saw the best there was in me

Lifted me up when I couldn't reach (run another step)

You gave me faith cause you believed

I'm everything I am (I am running this race)

Because you loved (coached/supported) me

--Celine Dion (me, taking liberties)

Who's your Robert Redford? That person or those people who see things in you at critical moments when you can't for the life of you find it. Coaches, family, friends, followers (all 2 of you...) this one's for you.

Back in mid-90's before I ever met my husband when this movie and song was a hit - I decided that someday, whenever I got married I'd dedicate this song to my Mom at my wedding. She really, really did all those things for me. Never waivered in her belief in me. She always just knew something I didn't yet know. I got a chance to tell her my plan and she, as usual, deflected credit of any sort and said this song should be for my not-yet-known husband. I disagreed and told asked her to listen to the words. My beloved mother died too soon before I got married but she's still my Robert Redford and when it comes to running so are my coaches, my family, and my friends which includes my most awesome PT.

Fast forward. One motherless wedding (thank you, Dad for waiting 8 years to join Mom - giver her a hug from me. And you are a Robert Redford too by the way), three children 14 nieces/nephews many races and lots of gratitude later I am FIRED UP for this second marathon in 16 short days. Can you tell long races make me emotional?!

Last week. I ran 20 miles after not having run more than five and that was only once in 3 weeks. I called my Coach, Jill and told her I was scared to death of any kind of distance because of having been out with an injury for 3 weeks. She believed. Sing it Celine! She told me to run with my heart. I had it, was fit enough and to take it easy. She reminded me that on Sunday at mile 16. I finished all 20 miles upright and smiling.

I am especially grateful to my family for putting up with all the time away to fit the long runs in and for the egg sandwiches when I get home. I love my friends - a special nod to the non-running ones - for putting up with all my running talk. To Beth for calling me a stud for finishing my 20 when we all know she's the real stud.

I am running this race, because you loved me.

And I'm hell on wheels. I can't wait.

Beast. Sick. Fierce.

"It's All Good"

I'm hanging on by my short nails. I refuse to age into unhip nerdiness. I'm trying to understand and use trendy lingo but some of it just isn't cool. Like...

"Peeps" - don't use it unless you speak of neon-colored, sugar-colored marshmellow ducklins' that show up in my children's Easter Baskets.

"Phone tag" - Stupid. That's not a game and it's not fun. It means you either deliberatly return calls when you know your 'friends' are unavailable or your life is too hectic and place too many calls at the wrong time.

"OMG" - If you are going to use an acronym, use SOMF, or MILF, something with substance. If you have to call out to the Lord, Just do it.

"Game on" - On what? TV, your nerves, at 7:00... finish a sentence or go back to 1st grade to learn how.

Cool words...

"Beast" - Something is ferocious. So good it's scary like your daughter's report card or your son's time in the 10K (go Sam!) or that martini you just learned to make.

"Fierce" - Take no prisoners. Growl, perhaps while wearing stilettos. It's descriptive and to the point.

"Sick" - Used to make me sick because I didn't understand how to use it. "Sick" is so cool when my 11-year old talks about hitting a baseball so far it was sick.

Some totally outdated phrases that will have your preteens denying they know you if you used them...

"Gettin' jiggy with it" You children are too young to remember Wil Smith and MIB.

"Z formation" They only do that when they are making fun of you and please, please don't do 2 snaps and a tuuuuurn.

"Talk to the hand" - Only use it if imitating Robin Williams' soliloquy during RV when he confronts the basketball-playing boys from ScottsDALE, the hard-core hood.

As my most excellent mother once said... "Clair, you know I'm not a cuss-ah (translation 'cusser', one who uses profanity'.), but if I was, SHIT would be my favorite word." I agree. I can't keep up with cool words. THAT one is a classic. It's beast. It's fierce. And it's sick.

Peeps, don't try to call me. We'll only play phone tag. OMG, I'm busy practicing my Z-formation and I AM jiggy with it.

Still not released to run. SHIT.

I'll get my game (back) on soon. It's all good.

I like big butts

And I cannot lie.
You other brothers can deny.
Deep in the jeans she's wearing.
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring.

-- Sir Mix Alot

If you were learning to walk in the 80's and not slapping your own bottom screaming 'BABY GOT BACK' Sir Mix Alot is foreign to you. You aren't missing much but his song is a classic of sorts - especially the part about the anaconda.

Here's me taking out the trash while my daughter takes my picture with my fancy new Blackberry. Point? My butt feels so much better!!! You know you've been wondering since my last post 3 weeks ago. (Hint: I'm working on consistency in my life.)

Since then, here's what's been happnin'...

* Got injured during a 20-mile run and had to take two weeks off.

* Became friends with the bike at the gym and pondered buying my own saddle cover. Ew.

* Saw the most awesomest PT who has me singing to the angels every time he kneads my calf.

* Tried a new restaurant.

* Talked to my friend Beth 375 times or so.

* Missed my parents.

* Forgot to be the tooth fairy.

* Had my son kill a mouse in my bathroom with his air soft gun.

Please don't be jealous of my cool life. Excitement: 2nd Marathon is 33 days away. I'm nervous to be back on my legs. Tomorrow the 2-week hiatus is over. No more cookie dough for breakfast. I hope my training will have my back and I won't throw up when I try a measly 5 on Tues. My coaches think I'll be fine with some minor adjustments to the weekday mileage plan. Long runs stay current with the training team. Good thing this week is a recovery week. 12 miles on Sunday.

Anyone have advice on losing/making up time while training?

Back to the anaconda.

So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playin' workout tapes by Fonda

But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda

My anaconda don't want none

Unless you've got buns, hun

He's so sweet the way he says 'hun', don't you think?

You know I'll be taking Sir Mix Alot wit' me on my next long run. But I don't want his anaconda. Just the memories of the Pi Beta Phi Thursday night dance parties of the late 80's. And I really don't want a big butt. Why do you think I run?!

Take a Risk

Run Better. Live Better.

Today I muse about a theme that touched me over at www.runningliving@blogspot.com . People say running is 'so mental' and it is. Mostly I thought mentally tough - the ability to push through pain. The guts and drive to just do it - go, go, go when you thought you couldn't. I've got that. To push from the inside so hard that you are unafraid to throw up. I'm not quite there yet. But...

Risk and Confidence.

The other elements. In running my goals and confidence to achieve them are 'safe' and (yikes!) too low. There's a balance to strike in all areas of our lives with reason and risk; hysteria and unbridled hope for all that we can live to be. Somewhere is the sweet spot - a place where life is as we never thought it could be. That glorious aha! and exhale as we look around at a totally new existence. Brought to the fore because we took a risk and felt confident to be what was inside all along. Faster, healthier, more fabulously authentic. We downplay and hibernate in safe zones because we have achieved a certain amount of admirable success. The tough part is emerging from these protected places. If we can go from a 5K to a 10K to 13.1, 26.2 and beyond - can't we do it faster with our own unique beautiful form and re merge more authentic and hungry to be that most perfect runner, friend, writer, lover, parent, worker that's been there all along?

We run 18 on Sunday and normally I feel nervous about a distance like that. It sounds too bloomin' long. Not today. It sounds good.

I muse and muse and muse...

Fuzz between your legs

Emergency! Violated by Fuzzbuster.

So I'm on the dreadmill the other night looking for an endorphin dump for my wretched mood and I am almosted violated by something huge and hairy in front of the whole YMCA. I am humping along at 7.3 with a 3.5 incline and this appears from behind.

At first I just see the tip. That's weird. Then that crazy stoking action . . . What if I stepped on that hairy thing? AND, what - you may wonder was the emergency? Me. I pulled the emergency cord ACCIDENTLY just a minute before because I was fiddling with my IPOD. Imagine the lurching forward action, flailing arms and legs to recover. Then I hit my head on the display screen. Digital "L's" (loser) appeared everywhere. I somehow got out of it without bruises. Apparently somebody thought I needed a good dusting. Can't a girl just embarass herself in peace. I left the Y without pride but lots of endorphins. Mission accomplished!

Say hi to your knee

Hi Knee. (Aw, I'm tellin'.)

Rah! Rah! Ree! kick em' the knee.
Rah! Rah! Rass! Kick 'em in the other knee...

Remember those little ditties? I am hiney-focused right now because mine hurts. I feel like I've been sitting on a stadium bench for extra innings without a 7th inning stretch. Like my butt bones (more eloquently known as sitz bones) have been bearing my body weight like Buddha in a trance for hours. It seems I've been rolling around on those protrusions like a drunk bowling pin. You get the picture. When I stand up, I'm golden. A runner friend had to stop training for a half marathon last year because he injured his butt. More eloquently known as his piriformis muscle. Could mine be talking to me because this turtle is trying to morph into a hare? My speed has improved this week but I like to sit down sometimes and right now my hind quarters are oh so tender. Could it be...

Enough about my butt. Or me. Anyone read any good books lately? Really. I need one. What about Pat Conroy's latest? Remember the opening line of Prince of Tides? It goes something like... the pungent aroma of the Charleston River reminds me of semen. Now that's a butt grabber. Wish I could write like that.