When? What’s When?

Knowing when to say when is very important.
My De Facto Running Coach

But it doesn’t mean it won’t hurt your pride or your feelings.

Let me back up a little. I’d found myself so accustomed to weeks of great runs that it was bound to happen yet I still wasn’t ready. Who is ever really ready? Maybe the signs had been there all day. Kel, they were there. I took it easy, stayed off my feet, ate like I should, did all the things. Yet something felt ‘off’.

So a few steps into mile 1, when my calves cramped up and began to burn like hell’s firecrackers and my hamstrings didn’t dare let my calves have a party without them, I knew I was in trouble. May I remind you – this was only mile 1. Of 8!

It’s not unusual (read: it happens more often than not) for mile 1 to give me issues. Rather I believe it’s my brain struggling to accept what I’m doing. I usually power through it, find my stride, and keep on moving. Somehow this was entirely different. When I began to hobble and parts of my body began to bounce that don’t normally bounce (that’s a picture, isn’t it), I knew it was time to make a big decision. A) Continue with an altered gait and possibly do damage or B) Call it and go home to cry.

In true dramatic fashion, I silently drove home and felt a few tears fall while I massaged, foam rolled, rehydrated, and rested my weary heart, I mean legs.

Being able to say ‘when’ isn’t a lesson that comes naturally. It’s a struggle in humility. Or desperation. However, good things come of humbling yourself. Like re-working your schedule to add a missed run on the backend, just like you designed in case of situations like this because your brain knew sometimes… you’ll have to say when.

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I ask you –

How hard is it to admit your pride has been bruised?

Do you consider yourself to be a dramatic person? I’m only dramatic in story telling.

Tell me a situation where you had to say when.

Prime Time + Ramblings

Occasionally I write about more than running plans and the craziness of motherhood. Occasionally. Spring time is my favorite – there’s the element of renewal and new growth, the promise of warmer weather and snow cones! A genius invented syrup-covered ice! Fall is by far my favorite time of year, but spring definitely has its perks.

how’s your life insurance policy?

For example, flowers! Specifically, jonquils. Not daffodils. The caveat here is because of the subfreezing temperatures we experienced mid-February the jonquils made their on time reveal then promptly (and I mean within days) shriveled and died. Anticlimactic. I’m truly devastated. Those are my forever favorite flower; they bloom on or near my birthday each year and I adore seeing them. Poof. Gone.

In terms of weather, it couldn’t be more perfect minus those random, severe, possibly tornadic storms. The little things, you know. Why do they always happen near or after bedtime? Could they not be more sympathetic to my need for sleep? A racing heart doth not good sleep make. Oh, Texas, why can’t you just get it together!

more branded stuff

Not so long ago, Morgan (with the near to my own birthday) asked if 35 meant we were officially in our “prime”. Before I could give it too much thought, lest she think I was indeed giving it too much thought, I emphatically replied “Of course!” Because I know very little about many things. But when I actually intended to overthink this idea of being in one’s prime – “the beginning of our prime” as she clarified – I decided it’s true. I really don’t know much.

And if that one sentence doesn’t sum up this blog in a neat and tidy package probably nothing will!

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I ask you –

Seriously, who invented snow cones?

How much do meteorologists earn? Bet it’s not commission based!

Prime number? Prime age? I’m saying yes!

What I Really Miss!

Lies of Motherhood and other things they said I would enjoy but do not:

You’ll miss: getting kicked in the back or spleen or forehead whilst co-sleeping
You’ll miss: spending hundreds of dollars to dress them each season
You’ll miss: the level of exhaustion that comes from any sentence beginning with “Help Me”
You’ll miss: being bitten during breastfeeding
You’ll miss: throwing snacks at them like wild animals poised to attack
You’ll miss: a snarky ‘Why?!’ when asking them to do anything (including the things they WANT to do)

Truth be told, there’s people even funnier than me. And I don’t say that lightly. Here’s where I’d like to share I’m a tough crowd, that it takes a lot to make me laugh. But that’s a big lie! I laugh at everything: you, me, the dream I had last week where I literally woke myself up laughing loudly. Let’s not forget I’m still laughing about what made me laugh at my dad’s funeral nearly 25 years ago. I just now nearly made a joke that started with “we’ve got a live one” but I see I’m talking about a funeral so live one jokes might be a bit much.

Considering starting a spin-off of Running on Fumes titled “I Met All My Husbands in the Police Report”. Perhaps it won’t be received well, but I’m overflowing with great ideas! Also, did you know there is a limit to how many espresso shots Starbucks will give you before they cut you off?! Me neither! And it’s 12. Now you know.

I leave you with this: A woman was asked ‘What is the best thing about being 104 years old?’ She replied: ‘No peer-pressure.’

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I ask you –

What on my list reasonates with you?

Do you think my spin-off title will endear me to anyone?

Share your best joke!

Day in Photos, pt 921

“Day in Photos” started when I realized there were a lot of photos in my phone that maybe didn’t fit whatever topic I was writing about during the day/week. Now look at it. Just look at it! It’s become a successful way to share a whole bunch of photos, very few words, and still count as a blog post!

Let’s begin –

brand

I’m madly in love with my logo and what my sister gifted me with on our birthday: branded apparel. I truly enjoy advertising for other small, local, women-owned, military-owned, etc brands – and will continue to do so – but I also need to share my own!

oh the drama

No matter how many times I say ‘the foam roller is not a toy’ it never fails to become a group activity. Not really a group type of girl. Solo foam rolling is much appreciated. Unbeknownst to me, some people have no clue what a foam roller is or what it does. All I can say is it hurts so good!

sister, sister

Leaving you with this photo of my twin. It’s been nice catching up lately. Never a dull moment when she’s around!

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I ask you –

How often are you shocked at the number of phone photos you have amassed?

Are there items in your home with the designation “not a toy'”?

Tell me your sibling(s) name(s)!

Daughter Date!

Trampoline places are the equivalent of a relatively inexpensive way to discover you have a weak pelvic floor. Also, supportive sports bras should be required. Some women will regret their choices tomorrow.

Having a “date” with my (only) child somehow always ends with ice cream. And by ends I mean ice cream is the whole point of the date! There are few rules on girl’s date night/day so ice cream could be at 9am or 9pm. I make the rules around here. Braums is our regular hangout, but Dairy Queen will do in a pinch. We didn’t have Braums on the east coast so I’m making up for lost time. According to my internal ice cream tracker, I’m behind approximately 6.76 years.

Speaking of daughter dates, it would be sad not to include my childhood best friend in this post! Morgan and I grew up together. She remembers my Dad, that’s how far back our friendship goes. If you’ll recall, she and I ran the 2018 Rock n’ Roll New Orleans Half Marathon, as well as this past December’s Stars at Night Half Marathon in San Antonio. Morgan has a huge heart and I’m so thankful for her friendship! Her love of Mexican food is my next favorite thing. Bonus: her birthday is 2 days after mine. I’m sure our parents were just overjoyed when we ingeniously thought of joint birthday parties.

You’d think after nearly a year of part time teleworking we could get this figured out. You’d think, but… My work from home days are still a confusing piece of the week mixed with a little frustration, lots of annoyed looks, and sometimes some tears. Lucky guess on what belongs to whom. I’m eternally grateful to games, letter boards, badminton, and whatever the above photo shows of this shaker glue thingy. It makes it to where I can get approximately 3 minutes of work done before moving on to the next thing or playing maid.

I’ve heard it said going to work is hard. I disagree. Staying home is harder. And somehow louder. Yet the 3 mins to do some work before interruption is still the same. Imagine that.

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I ask you –

Do you have regular dates with your child(ren)? How often does it include ice cream?

Did you and your childhood best friend bond over a close birthdate?

Happy St. Patrick’s Day shenanigans!

Wanna…Go for a Bike Ride?

Cross training? What’s that? Admittedly, I know I should be cross training during a training cycle, but usually what happens is I get so focused on running, it’s all I want/make time to do. Terrible, Coach.

This time, I’m following my own tried-and-true advice! Instead of walking or, my personal favorite, more running – introducing cycling! Let me tell you my quads were sufficiently sore after only 15 mins of cycling. The glute pain lasted much longer. Seems cycling mimics downhill running very well which will be super helpful at May’s Texas Triple because there’s a short section on each lap that kills my quads! If you allow it to happen, turnover on the downhill portion will have you running a 5 min/mile. Athletes who regularly do this are mind blowing. P.S. the number mentioned isn’t a guess, I personally saw my watch register this pace as I was flying down the hill. Exhilarating and a little scary! Stopping? Impossible!

As usual, I digress. Regular cycling should be helpful this time around. Worst case scenario: I develop overly muscular quads and thighs then run like a wiener dog. Unlikely. These bird legs of mine have required much of me to embrace.

In terms of cycling, guess who has almost successfully taught her mini to ride a bicycle sans training wheels?! It’s me!!! Pretty sure the very core of my patience has been tested, as well as every muscle in my lower back from leaning over her, but, HEY!, she’s almost there! Who needs to stand upright anyway?! She’s making great strides, no pun intended. Relatedly, I heard a story of a young lady turning 6 years old a few weeks ago and she thought upon her 6th birthday, she would somehow inherently know how to ride a bicycle then. Like – POOF! She also thought she’d be much bigger at that point, too, so here we are.

My birthday is this weekend. Lucky 13. I’m not sure what I ever envisioned mid-30’s looking like, but I hope I wake up that morning with the ability to whistle loudly! POOF!

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I ask you –

Will cycling give me Dachshund-style legs?

How old were you when you learned to ride a bicycle? I was probably 4-5 yrs old. My siblings told me to sit on a “big bike” then proceeded to push me down the front walkway. It was sink or swim time and I was full speed ahead from then on!

Tell me your lucky number!

The Talk / History Lesson

In current world news, on today’s newest episode of “I’m seriously not qualified for this job!”, I’ve been tasked with talking to a teenage girl about how underage drinking and smoking are very serious and should not be taken lightly. Great, just great. Not qualified, under qualified, whatever you want to say. This was not included in the parenthood guide! Well, maybe it was, but the kind doctors and nurses simply forgot to give me mine when they gave me all the other paperwork to complete post-birth. I was robbed!

I’m not cut out for the enormous responsibility of these oh-so-important life talks. I genuinely don’t know what to say. But then I think back to working with children from unimaginable hardship. In a leadership position, I climbed my way up; somehow I did it then. Younger, more confident perhaps? Now I just sit here cringing, thinking WHY ME?! Again, I’m not qualified. No joke, Kel. My mother told us the story of her father finding out she smoked. She said her father made her smoke an entire cigar (his poison of choice) as punishment/lesson learning/complete craziness if you ask me. She said it was awful. Plot twist: it didn’t make her quit smoking though. She just learned she didn’t like the taste of cigars. Seriously not helpful, Mom. I can, with complete honesty, say I have never smoked anything. Not once. The smell of cigarettes gives me the feeling of all the oxygen being pulled from my lungs. Can’t make this up. I literally feel like I can’t breathe. And I can smell cigarette smoke from other cars if sitting in traffic. Weird, I know. Smoking may be the grossest habit anyone can have. But it is a habit and I know too many who have struggled to quit because it’s truly an addiction. As for drinking? Let’s just say – when I think back to what I used to do, I’m lucky to be alive; we’ll leave it at that.

The advice given to me was to talk about the safety aspects: cancer, juvenile record, even death. Sounds harmless, no pun intended. I feel like if I cap it off with a sentence sounding like ‘I was once your age and I did the same things, blah blah blah’ then it’s a well rounded conversation. Yet somehow this feels like a giant cop out – back to the unqualified statement. On the subject again of my misplaced parenthood book, it probably states do not include stories of your own teenage misadventures. But I imagine it doesn’t give you other available options either. Those of you in possession of this elusive book, feel free to chime in, please.

There’s no winning here, is there? I suppose we just do what’s best in the moment, hope it turns out alright, and pray our children don’t end up in a mess only a miracle can fix. But there is a little voice inside me screaming ‘I’ll be damned if my child behaves this way!!’. She probably will. Face it now, Kel. My time is coming.

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I ask you –

Did you get a book?! If you did, can I borrow it?

Any weird adverse reactions to another’s addictive habits?

Tell me what I should say! P.S. this isn’t my child I’m talking to. She’s 4. Let’s not rush things.

What It Means to Blog

5 Things bloggers wish they could say

I couldn’t not laugh when I stumbled upon the above article. Couldn’t have said it better myself either! Here’s the deal: yes, I have a full time job – two if you count keeping a small child with an adult vocabulary and defiance like her mother…where was I going with this?…oh right, I keep that mini human alive; yes, I love to write so you could infer this blog is simply my hobby; yes, I ‘only’ publish a new post twice a week – but do you know what goes into these “just two” posts a week? Do you know what any of this takes?

I’m not pointing out how you may not understand. What I am doing is saying there’s more to this than type a little, insert a few photos, and wham bam a blog writer I am. Oh, a writer I certainly am!

The difference in being a blogger vs a writer is probably only a few words. Get it, get it. Perhaps being labeled a writer sounds more sophisticated whereas bloggers are a dime a dozen. Trust me when I say this isn’t true at all. From the post content to the stat analyzation to the photo taking to the all the extra publishing on other media platforms: it is work.

Now I’m sure none of my loyal readers have ever considered bloggers as opportunists; however, opportunities do come from capitalizing on various opportunities. To my understanding, this is where monetization comes into the picture. I, too, am hopeful one day I can make money from writing. So I don’t get overly upset when I have to scroll through ads or other tidbits before picking up the remainder of what I was reading. If it works for you, who am I to to say a thing? Previously, before starting my own blog, I did make money writing articles for someone else. It wasn’t much but I learned what to do/not do. Then I became my own boss!

In other words, there may be a time when these posts seem a little longer because I choose to advertise. Please excuse me while I seek out said opportunities. I’ll be over here “just” fulfilling a dream.

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I ask you –

Do you find yourself irritated to scroll a little farther down when reading a news article or other post?

What opportunities are you seeking in your personal or professional life?

Wham bam a writer I am!

On Your Left

I’m about 24 hours out from starting a new training cycle. What I mean is…forgive me for not returning your calls, texts, plans, and anything else that doesn’t include running or eating. I was speaking to a co-worker several minutes (could’ve been weeks, it all runs together; runs, get it?!) about her Spring race plans and she mentioned she still had “unfinished business” with a marathon goal. (To be clear, this woman is an ultra runner, 2000+ day streaker, and super speedy marathon finisher. We’re not even close to being in the same category!) But she’s fun to talk to and very encouraging so she gets a free pass. As I shared my triple half marathon goal, her sounds of incredulousness made me laugh. Here’s this woman who runs high double digits regularly yet thinks my 13.1 for 3 days is insane. Just means we’re all a little different. And equally crazy. Next time I’m going to tell her my life goal of completing a Ragnar. Look it up. It’s awesome!

There’s no getting around it. I have a shoe addiction. Running shoes specifically. There’s something about the sleek, cushioned, makes-me-feel-like-I’m-running-fast beauty of new shoes. I’m currently rotating 4 pairs. Excessive? I don’t know. Like I’ve said for years: you can’t do enough to take care of your feet. They’re all you get! No replacements available. But, if it came down to it, and I couldn’t speak for myself, YES! I want a foot transplant! Please remember this! You can take my voice; you will never take my feet! I may not be able to berate you with my tongue, but I want one last opportunity to run you down and kick you. Enough of that.

Thursday nights’ Freedom small group is going well. These are the most courageous, strong, and honest women I could ever know. How I got so lucky to lead this group is beyond me. Many times in my life I fretted about being able to be open with other people, especially women. Nothing against women, but being one myself, I know how ugly we can act. Freedom in Christ, amongst other believers, was never a part of my plan and for this I’m thankful because without Him I wouldn’t have made it this far. Life sure is funny like that. I miss my 6am group, but Thursday nights are special in their own way.

Lastly, the title of this post is the most common phrase used by every runner. A close second: where’s the bathroom? I’m not entirely sure this is true, but it’s true for me! I try to smile and wave, clear my throat unnecessarily within earshot, and do all the other things to let people know I’m about to pass them, but obliviousness tends to rub me the wrong way. So if you see me at the lake or in my neighborhood or on base running and I look grumpy, it just means I’ve said “On Your Left” one too many times.

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I ask you –

Last call: anyone willing to train with me for the Texas Triple scheduled for Memorial Day weekend?

Is kicking people as I pass them allowed?

My shoe collection reminds me of the cutest video I have of my mini, age 18 months, walking around the house yelling for her shoes to appear and she looks at the ceiling as a viable option.

Freedom + Secret Keeper

I’ve had to learn how to share. Some days are harder than others. Social media makes it nearly impossible to have a private life. So bear with me when I find it difficult to do so. Writing is the outlet I crave.

For a very long time, it felt like much of my life was a huge secret. I didn’t know any other way. Then the military paid me to keep secrets. 99 years, but who’s counting. It’s what I do. I keep secrets. And I keep them well. I don’t love it, really. The burden is so very heavy. On the bright side, I’ve perfected the nod and smile of zero confrontation. Makes conversation somewhat difficult but it’s a skill nonetheless. Have smile; will travel!

But the price I pay for holding them in? No amount exists. It’s tough. It has ruined relationships, damaged my own psyche, and changed the way I view life. The lenses aren’t clear. Having to learn the difference between shame and guilt, as an adult, was almost demoralizing. How could I not know these basic concepts? In short, I wasn’t really taught them. I was taught/learned manipulation. Taking care of myself was considered selfish yet it was the only way I knew how to live.

Not one to dwell on the past, live and learn (better ways). There’s many amends I still need to make. I’m thankful for Him who loved me through it all. But it was hell getting there. Now I know I can’t do it alone. I don’t even want to anymore! I no longer fear judgment or condemnation or the “jaw drop”. Another’s opinion of me is simply none of my business.

‘We may impress people by our strengths, but we connect with them through our vulnerabilities.’ Wish I had come up with this one on my own; alas, I am not brilliant all the time.

Most of it though!

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I ask you –

How well do you keep secrets?

Are there apologies you still owe others?

On a scale of 1-10, how brilliant are you? 9.5. Have to leave some room for error!