Black horse and a cherry tree

Well my heart knows me better than I know myself, so I'm gonna let it do all the talking

(woo-hoo-oo,woo-hoo)

I came across a place in the middle o' nowhere with a Big black horse and a cherry tree

(woo-hoo-oo,woo-hoo) KT Tunstall

There was this cute as a button girl belting this with the band during the summer of 2007 just outside the 31st Hilton in Virginia Beach. She was sexy and sassy and unafraid. A mere bystander caught in the moment of the gorgeous night, you'd have thought she was soul sister to the band's lead singer. It could've been the margaritas and a dare but I haven't forgotten her show and her guts and hope she did it again and again somewhere. A Pat Benetar or Katie Perry in the making. I just sat and watched her wishing I had her guts and personality. A former dancer who loves a stage and great bass, I could feel my fascia one with hers moving and grinding to the music, waiting for my tipping point so I could jump on that Black Horse with her. I never spoke to her but every time I hear this song I think of the mystery pixie and wish I'd been her soul sister too. A stranger is my inspiration and she doesn't even know it. You and I could be one too. So why didn't I go with the moment and let it rip?

• My children (9, 7, and 4) needed me. Yeah right. Only a dozen or so other parents THAT I KNEW were nearby and could've taken watch for 3 minutes.


• Business associates were all around and I didn't want to become the wrong kind of legend. Okay, as long as I didn't strip it wouldn't have mattered.


• I didn't look as good in jeans as my nameless hero and couldn't measure up. Really, Clair you're how old? But body image issues are very pervasive.

I could go on with excuse after excuse but the bottom line is I WAS AFRAID to do something I really wanted to. Fear is the opposite of love and I don't want to be motivated by it anymore. There was a Black Horse calling my name and I didn't get on. And now I run. I aspire to run, dance, write and love without fear. I am working on it everyday. One race is over. A song has been sung. A hero made (and she doesn't even know it.) A year almost done. I contemplate my training plan for the next race and the next song. This time, I'll be ready. If you see me near a band, give me a nudge and a margarita and I'm all over it. You can even deny you know me and I won't hold it against you.

Who's your unsung hero?

Oh yeah. The race. 4:39:21. Happy. Recovered. Getting rid of many minutes for next time. No fear. Just going to do it.

This is it!

The final curtain call...

On Saturday, I took my two daughters to see Michael Jackson's 'This Is It' and I loved it. There, I said it. I'm exposed. Nothin' between me and that truth. I keep reliving moments of the film like it was my first kiss. All you anti-moonwalk nay-sayers should see it just to witness the yin and the yang of our existence. Unbelievable, jaw-dropping, toe-tapping, heart thumping, booty-slapping, crotch grabbing mega-talent who left us troubled, drugged, and unable to keep his (heart) beat. Separate the shit from the shine you've something worth noting in our time. When the yin and yang were balanced, he let the Song sing him and the Dance dance him.

Next Saturday, I want the Race to run me. Richmond, 26.2. It's not a Bible verse. It's the place and distance my booty will be running. No crotch-grabbing until the end.

This is it...
My training is finished. All that's left is my heart. Mine is healthy and drug-free. It doesn't require general anesthesia for a nap. On November 14th, I plan to fare much better than MJ. And I'll moonwalk after I cross the finish line just to bring me back to the day. A day when a one-gloved crooner blanketed my bedroom walls and my dear mother thought 'Annie, are you okay?' was 'Eddie, can you rotate?'. Now that requires booty. God, how I miss her.

Mom, this is it.
Saturday, it's for you.

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...