Doesn't play well with others...

I've always thought of myself as outgoing.
Extroverted.
Talkative.
Confrontational.

And then I hear myself make statements like: "And THAT (insert item of irritation) is why I DON'T like people."

Whoa. Huh?
Which makes me think...

I have always hated group projects. With a passion. I don't like working out in groups. I've never run with the same person more than 10 times (minus my x-country team) - basically, "no, I do not want you to be my running buddy." I like cooking alone. I'm not Santa. I don't need a helper. I prefer tag-teaming chores than sharing the same project. And when I want something to change, I typically do it on my own.

Basically, I'm that bitch who thinks her way is best and is cynical enough to not trust people's ability to follow through on their intentions.

Ha. Yeaahh, I am definitely a people person.

I'm painting myself worse than I am. I am friendly and sensitive. I do enjoy social situations, and even though I'm sarcastic I like to think I have a decent sense of humor. What it really comes down to is I don't like my successes and failures to be the result of someone else's lack of sincerity. If I'm going to suck at life, I want it to be because I make bad decisions. If I fail to meet a goal, I want it to be because I lacked the discipline etc. I don't like giving other people the power to drag me down.

This thinking doesn't mesh well with marriage. When you're married, life in general is a "group project". I need to work on this. On the "us". It's so much easier just to work on "Sarah". To make my agenda the most important thing. I have so much to learn about this being someone's wife thing. I guess that's a first step...realizing I suck.

Today, I am tired.
Just. Plain. Exhausted.
Life is hectic at the moment. Things aren't working out. I feel discouraged and this overwhelming cloud of discontent is constantly hanging over me. I know it will pass. Things will work out. Somehow, they always do. But right now, in this moment, I am just so tired.

Today, I have no words to express aloud what I feel on the inside.
Today, yelling seems to be the most effective form of communicating with my son.
Today, I miss running as a coping mech. I miss feeling all the negative fall from me like sweat. The hypnotizing sound my footfall.

Today, I will go through the motions.
Today, I will do the right thing. I will be loving even when I feel empty. I will be patient even when I lack the energy. I will trust that somehow, things will begin to get better.

All shall be well,

And all shall be well,

And all manner of thing shall be well.

(Julian of Norwich)

Thoughts on (not) running.

But sometimes, it isn't that simple.
Sometimes, the thing that makes you happy needs to be given up temporarily.

Running is my 1st. love.
It completely blows my mind that it has been a constant in my life for 16 years. Early college, it became obvious that I'm not good at long-term relationships. 5 months...8 months... one year...5 years with Scott is a crazy long time in the same relationship for me. Running and I have never broken up. We've been separated due to sprains, stress fractures, and pregnancy, but I've never lost interest or quit on purpose.

I love it.
It is that simple.

Running has given me an insane "one-ness" with my body. I can't describe it properly. I just know my body, very, very well. Every footfall. Every breath. Whether my shoulders are tense. A sharp pain in my hamstring. Tightness in calves or ass...collateral damage of strenth training. I can feel my core tighten with each step, centering me. I also can feel when I'm "off". When my stride feels unnatural. When humidity makes breathing labored. When a hangover makes my head dizzy and legs shaky. A runner doesn't have to listen to their body, but multiple self-induced stress fractures have taught me doing this is pretty fucking stupid. You listen to your body. Your body responds well. You make progress. End of discussion.

A couple days after the 4th of July race, I was jamming my right foot in my Nike Frees to get on the eliptical...without loosening the laces. I don't know what I did, but my ankle is not ok, and feels like it's getting worse. (Hello, double days and double digit runs...)

My name is Sarah, and if it will hurt me, I will probably do it.

There's a 5k 2 days after my birthday that I want to do because New Year's Eve I decided the year needs to include a 5k. Duh. And then there's the Two Cities Half Marathon in November that I NEED TO DO. That's right. NEED. Just like I NEED to be healthy and running strong so that I can PR. That's right, I've already decided I'm going to PR. What can I say? I actually believe in myself again. In order to make all this happen though, I'm taking this week off. It's been ONE day and already I'm having a hard time. Running is so much of who I am...my worth...my sanity...my coping mech of choice...

I run for so many reasons.

I run because I'm good at it.

I run because I love rain and getting completely soaked.

I run because I don't want fat thighs.

I run because it's challenging.

I run because it impresses people.

I run because 20 x 400 meters on a track makes me feel like a fucking badass.

I run so my ass looks good in jeans.

I run to process my thoughts.

I run to be alone.

I run as an excuse to listen to my favorite music.

I run to be faster than the men I race against.

I run to win.

I run to unwind.

I run because it helps me sleep.

I run to eat.

I run sometimes because of what I ate.

I run when I'm upset because it's impossible to run and cry for very long.

I run because it requires discipline.

I run to passively compete with my sister. (Just being honest, Ingrid...)

I run at 5 am.

I run at 8 pm.

I run when it's 105 deg out.

I run when I feel amazing.

I run hungover and feel like shit.

I run long so I have an excuse to consume Chocolate Outrage Gu.

I run tempo runs...mile repeats...LSDs...lactate runs...800s.

I run twice in one day, multiple times a week.

I run because it makes me want to make other healthy choices.

I run because it's who I am.

When I think about all the people who want to run and can't... Or the people that have never experienced the beauty of a sunrise during a 14 mile weekend run... Or the people who have never felt the exiliration of running 0.5 mile repeats @ 6:50 min/mile pace... I feel truely blessed.

A week isn't forever.

A lifetime is forever.

Here's to making the right decision when it's tough.

"Smart" isn't fun, but it pays off.

Five Things Friday

I like Fridays that feel like "Friday". Today is one of those days Fridays. It helps that Scott has tomorrow off, which should make tomorrow, in turn, feel like a Saturday. Unfortunately, I have to keep juggling everything Saturday-ish that is planned around in my head to make sure I remember. 12 mile run...Coffee and the Park (capitalized because going to the park is an epic "event". Epic event = carrying your child screaming out of it because they do not want to go home with you. Epic events require caffeine.)...Swim date with Damien across the street...Coffee Unsweetened iced green tea with Josh in the evening...Maybe conning asking Scott to cook dinner, to be eaten after coffee and after the Monster is safely in his crib... Wow. I just totally made that sound like a absolutely crazy day. Insert habit where I make things harder than they need to be. Well, regardless, it should be fun. I like get out of jail free cards getting out of the house.

I also like talking about random things....
So 5 random things:


1.  I'm starting to think taking a complete break from running for a week is the healthiest option for me.

Simply, my right ankle is still not 100%. It was pretty obvious from the higher impact moves I was doing in my circuit. I don't want to go 7 full days without running. I don't think my sanity vanity can go that long. But all I can think is that I have a half marathon in November that I am dedicated to running and running well. Possibly beating my 1:46:06 PR. I don't want to compromise my ability to begin my training plan August 12, just because I don't want to spend the time working out the kinks and being smart. IF I do this next week, It will look like: 3 days biking 20 miles. 3 days 1 hr on the eliptical. 1 day yoga. 1 day kenpo. 2 days strength (no high impact moves. i.e. skaters, burpees, frog leaps.). 1 day complete rest.

Yeah. We'll see. It's smart...but I don't always like smart.

2. I've gotten kind of "girly" in the last week.

By "girly" I mean I bought my first official lipstick since I was 19. (Moment of truth: I've only owned 2 lipsticks and they did not compliment my skin tone. Thanks, Mary Kay.) The best part is that I was kind of suckered into it by a picture of Olivia Wilde in "Backstage" next to a lip product. She just looked so put together. I never feel put together, let alone that pretty. It just hit me. "I will be 27 next month and I do not own lipstick." According to Michael, "27 is the age you can call yourself a woman." Yikes. I had to get on that shit. I spent a good 15 minutes, trying to keep my 3 year old from grabbing things, and trying to decide if I should go pink, what looked right, or pretend to be Olivia Wilde and just get "Backstage". Thankfully, even if I'm not a "Woman" yet, I am smart enough to go with what looks right.

Enter: Revalon Colorstay Ultimate Suede in Couture.

Where has this lipstick been my entire adult life??? I'm still amazed at its longevity and how it doesn't make my lips look cakey or my skin too pink. I actually felt pretty. Holy crap. Touche, Revalon. Touche.

I got to thinking though, what is it exactly that is making me feel like investing in the process of feeling/looking beautiful. I've never been a mani/pedi girl. I always buy body mist, not perfume. And lip gloss, not lip stick....But here I am with lipstick. And I won't lie, I spent a good deal of time while I was in Rite Aid, scouring the different shades of eye shadow, and the different foundation options.

I blame this on Micah. He's been extra crazy and in a new stage of absolute defiance as of late. In 3 days, he has napped once, and woken me up screaming twice during the middle of the night. I feel like a crazy person. The amount that I scream "NO!", spank (only to be giggled at), and bribe is amazing. I. AM. TIRED. And something in me has clicked. "You're tired? You're frustrated. Why don't you find a way to fake it til you make it..."

Run and hide your crazy

And start actin like a lady

Cause I raised you better

Gotta keep it together

Even when you fall apart

It doesn't make it all better. But it is nice to not feel like I'm wearing a shirt that says I CANNOT PARENT worth a damn all the time.

3. I attempted Paleo pancakes.

And they flopped. Note to self: eggs in pancakes are non-negotiable. Use them.

The pancakes turned into "pancake scramble", but it tasted awesome, and I needed a break from protein powder and oatmeal.

1 scoop vanilla protein powder

1 Tbsp Ground Flax

2 Tbsp Coconut Flour

1/3 c unsweetened Almond Milk (plus more water)

1 tsp Coconut oil

Vanilla extract

Cinnamon

1/2 stevia packet

1/4 c Blueberries

Top with:

1/4 c nonfat unsweetened Greek yogurt

1/2 stevia packet

Vanilla extract

4.  My big goal for next week is (drumroll): Don't let clean clothes sit on the floor for longer than 12 hours.

That is pathetic to admit, but currently, there are 4 loads of clean laundry that are on various "floor places" in the house that need to be folded. And some of those clothes have been there going on one week...

I do like socks.

Especially when I run.

The fact that NONE of my socks are in my room now should be motivation to stop making pre-run laundry room trips. Just fold the damn clothes, Sarah!

5.  Strength Training/HIIT makes me feel the best about my body.

Last Thursday: Ran 15 miles. Did Kenpo in the afternoon.

Felt ugly and fat.

Today: Ran 5 miles. Did a HIIT circuit 45 min and 30 min on the eliptical in the afternoon.

Felt great in my spandex shorts.

This should be a reminder and motivation to do my squats and burpees.

They make you tight. Tight is good. When you're tight and lean, no one (especially you) gives a fuck what your weight is. I like that I have NOT stepped on a scale this year.

No one has that kind of time to waste feeling bad about a stupid number.

Tonight, I feel good enough.
Not perfect, inside or out, by any means.
But good enough.
Loveable.
And capable of being loving.

Go long...and then, go home.

I've been mentally fantasizing about running 15 miles for months now. Months. I'd go out for a 6...4...10... mile run, and while I was running said amount, I would picture myself rounding Santa Ana, almost at 15 miles. Chariouts of Fire music playing, running fast. It just seemed like such a, sexy(?), distance.

Since the half marathon in May, my longest runs have been 10 or 11 miles tops. And I think there might have been like 3 of them. I've done a million double days, which brings my mileage to 10 or whatever, but running twice and running long are 2 very different animals. What happened is this: I got faster. I've always been into making myself run for at least 6 miles or an hour or whatever. All of a sudden when I started running less at one time, my speed increased. I'd run a fast 5 miles in the morning and then, I'd run a (still) fast 4 miles in the evening. This eventually lead to me running seven plus miles faster. But again, 7 miles is not all that LONG. 7 miles isn't even an hour anymore.

So yeah, I just decided that I was going to run 15 miles this morning. The end.

4:55- alarm goes off.
5:15- I start my stopwatch and shuffle down start running down Gearhart.

2:12:56 later, I am standing in front of the house.
"Holy shit. Did I just run 15 miles?"

There is something to be said about running while your brain is still in a coma....

It doesn't seem that big of a deal now. In fact, as I was running the last 5 miles, and then as I parked my ass in Micah's cold kiddie pool, I found myself already fantasizing about 20 miles. Damn, Sarah. You are never satisfied, giiiirl!


Random Running Long Stuff:

*Take lesser-than-a-serving amount of a preworkout.

*Stay in control of your pace. If it feels a little "la-dee-da", it's the right pace. It's nice to still finish with negative splits on a 15 mile run. #strongfinish

*Running far does not make you feel skinny. It actually kind of makes you feel bloated afterward. Run long for the RIGHT reasons.

*Eat well the night before. I inhaled a homemade "Inn n out" burger, pita chips & Greek yogurt dip, tortilla chips & cheese dip...and light Dryer's ice cream. It actually had nothing to do with my running plan. I just felt like being a pig enjoying life. :)

*Put your ipod on shuffle and then forget about what's playing. I allowed myself to hit "skip" TWICE. For perspective, I usually skip shit like it's my job. Even stuff I like. "Why the fuck did I just skip THAT?" Monotony makes my skip finger antsy.

*Be white trash smart and sit in your kid's pool an ice bath.

*Just plan on eating small amounts of food every 2 hours to avoid the point where you are RAVENOUS and want to eat EVERYTHING processed and sodium laden IN THE PANTRY AND FRIDGE. Being "rungry" is no bueno. Eating 2000 calories in one sitting because you did not plan your meals properly is also no bueno. Don't binge.


Favorite Songs Today:

*We Own It -  2 Chainz ft. Wiz Khalifa
*What's My Name? -  Rihanna ft. Drake
*Poison -  Nicole Schwerzinger
*My Last Breath - Evanescence
*Slow Down -  Selena Gomez
*NYC -  Kevin Rudolf
*California Love -  Tupac ft. Dr. Dre
*Soul Survivor-  Akon ft. Young Jeezy
*E.T. -  Katy Perry ft. Kanye West
*Comin In Hot -  Hollywood Undead

I am crazy...and plan on doing kenpo later. We'll see...  :D

I want it that way.

I'm a big fan of starting things on Monday Mondays. Sundays are hit and miss days. Sometimes, Scott's off. Sometimes he has his crappy 10-6:30 shift. On Sunday, I usually feel like I have to pick up the slack for the rest of the week. And there is usually quite a lot of "slack". Sundays, I do double runs. Because I want to, but usually also because a run earlier in the week wasn't as long as I'd planned.

I feel like on Monday I get to decide exactly how I want my week to look. And even though I turn around and spend my week not doing things I said would or doing them on the wrong day, this is a beautiful thing. I feel peace and control on Monday. Control. I love being in control. Monday is a fresh slate, so to speak. Some weeks I actually do follow my "plan" pretty faithfully. I think this is going to be one of those weeks. I feel somewhat centered (as opposed to my normal inner chaos). Plus, I want it. I want this to be an amzing week where I follow through and prove to myself that I have the discipline to do the work to get where I want to be.

Running is just one example, but it's one that means a lot right now. Simply put, I'm running well. Really, really well. It's completely accidental and bewildering, but hell, I'll go with it. My body is resonding well to my workouts and I love seeing even subtle changes. My abs are tight. My thighs are thinning out again. My upper body is strong. Weight loss and strength training have definitely helped, but I've also spent the last 8 months since the Half Relay tinkering with my form etc. I was striking primarily with the front of my foot, which was fucking up my stride. I've evened out to a mostly neutral strike, working on bringing my knees up more, shortening my stride. Also, I try to be aware of my core and "push" through my hips. Again, my body is repsonding. I've only felt the bursitis I get in my right hamstring/glute the week prior to the Half in May. I also haven't been sore. At. All. I'm running pretty consistantly in the low 8s and upper 7s and feeling comfortable there. I have a love/hate with that. Love that I'm faster. Hate that it means I need to push my speedwork. No more running 7:15 mile repeats and 3:30 800s. Gotta push the pace. Ugh. I don't like being uncomfortable. (Really, Sarah?) Whatever. I'm realizing with the proper workouts and less nonchalance I can be a strong compeitor in races. Shit's about to get real.


I'm very invested in breaking this "keep getting 2nd place in my races" streak. Especially when it's by FOUR fucking seconds.

I'm appreciating not training for any races right now. It means I get to do what I want. I really do have a hard time with training plans. I know that they are designed by people who know more than I do, but I still have the "STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!!!" reaction. Eh. Grow up, Sarah. Anyways, I like being able to decide whether I want to go long, short, cross train, strength train, not do yoga...

So...

GOALS. That's right. Shocker. I made GOALS for the summer or what's left of it.

*Keep mileage at 40 miles (give or take).
         This has not been much of an issue. Any weeks I didn't hit 40, I chose not to and was fine with it.

*Run 15 miles.
          I don't know what it is about 15 miles. I just need to go out and run it (w/o a half marathon being involved). I think I am an increments of 5 person. Just like I am a "Monday person".

*Run a sub-21 min 5k.
          I consistently run 5k in 23 min now without really trying or "racing" it. Time to push.

I have another one that I can't remember. Because I am a mom and therefore, have mom brain. Bleh.
Cheers to being hella sore! :)

If you're crazy and you know it...

I still remember the day Brian fake diagnosed me as "manic depressive" and "bipolar".
We were at Woodward Park, in the middle of the afternoon in SUMMER, for WHAT reason only God knows.
My response? Throwing my sandal at him - hard. (A big deal, considering, I loved my Reefs and proceeded to storm off about 1/4 mile without even giving the shoe a farewell glance.)
"You're calling ME crazy? While YOU are a part-time pushover and part-time verbally abusive? Bitch, please!"


But now, 6 years later, I can't help but think there might be some truth to what I thought was complete bullshit. I mean, c'mon, my mom had just died after battling cancer for 4 years. Wasn't I allowed to be a trainwreck, all over the emotional map?
I still do this. Still play the "if only game". "If only___ I could be happy."

If only my kid would fucking listen to me so I wouldn't have to resort to screaming "STOP!" in his little 3 year old face...

If only my husband would act differently, and have a little more patience with our son...(I'm not knocking the not-plugged-in-controller-thing. It actually works pretty well, IF your kid will sit still.)

If only I could keep the house clean...

If only it wasn't so Goddamn HOT outside and I didn't sweat like an offensive lineman...

If only I had a "real person" job, a job that didn't let me wear track shorts I got when I was 19 and sing songs from WordWorld...

If only my creative muse was alive and well, and I could write and process out all the morbidity...

But you know what? At the end of the day, it's ME. It's my problem, or more like I am the problem. My happiness seems to have a shelf life of about 2 hours tops. What the fuck is wrong with me? I cannot seem to stay happy. I want to. I can't. I try coping in the different ways...


I exercise. A LOT.

I RUN. even more A LOT.

I sometimes stress eat. That shit does. not. work.

I sometimes restrict myself. That makes me shaky and cranky. Shaky, cranky Sarah = shitty Sarah. Just saying. I'm better with a side of calories in my stomach.

I drink a lot of caffeine...and take the edge off at the end of the day with booze. Let's face it, no matter how badly I don't want to drink, muscle memory tells me a bottle of vodka is an awesome icepack. #numbftw

I don't think I'm "crazy", per se. I do think maybe there is some chemical imbalance or something inside of me that causes me to become an inexplicable headcase with zero notice. And then, it goes away with even less notice. Voila, I'm "fine". Obnoxious. I wonder if I'd stuck out therapy back in '07 long enough to get the good stuff, I'd notice a difference. I know from using other people's medication experience that Xanax takes away panic attacks. However, everyone and their Grandmother (craziness IS biological, right?) is on it, so I'm not sure what that proves...

I didn't really write all that because I thought it was going to provide some epic breakthrough. I did need to spend the time being introspective (these days I have the attention span of ONE Law & Order SVU. I know. I've measured a million times.) I also needed to laugh at myself. Mission accomplished. But then again, self-deprication has never really been an issue for me.

It is an interesting thought though. How much of happiness is circumstance? How much is brain wiring? And how much is good, old fashioned, "I'm just going to choose happiness, damn it!"?


Pursuit of Happiness- Kid Cudi ft. MGMT

I'm on the pursuit of happiness

And I know

Everything that shine ain't always gonna be gold

I'll be fine once I get it

Yeah, I'll be good