Becky gave me a training plan and I trained alone, on a treadmill, in a climate-controlled environment, with TV and music and a flat surface to keep me going.  I made it to race day and finished my first 8K in 50:58.  The race was so much fun, I committed to doing something else I never thought I’d do: wake up EARLY to run at o’dark 30 three or four days a week.  It was Crazy Anne that got me to do it.  “Just give us one week,” she told me.  “If you don’t like it, then you can quit.”

It’s been a year, and I’m still at it.  My running buddies are rocks when it comes to reliability.  I never have to worry that they won’t show, which is the only reason I haven’t quit.  They also taught me just about everything I know – which fuel product is best for long runs, how much water to drink, what to wear, how to “roll” my legs and what to read.  They also introduced me to Dina – runner extraordinaire.  (You never know when she’s going to show up on the Path and make you work harder than you’d planned.)

Almost a year later, we ran the Shamrock Shuffle again this morning.  Since the Shuffle had been my first race, I considered today to be my Runniversary.  And, I was determined to beat my time from last year – by as much as I could.

So, last night, after getting my gear ready, I spent some time making a special “Shuffle” playlist with my favorite fast songs.  I put them in just the right order to motivate me when I thought I’d need it most.

And this morning, it all came together.  My Path Partners and I, along with another friend (new to running since having her babies), piled in the car at 7 a.m. and headed downtown.  It was cool and cloudy when we lined up, but soon the sun came out and burned the clouds away.  Crazy for this time of year in Chicago.

Throughout the race, my music kept me pumped, as did the fear of disappointing Dina.  (She had given me a goal, and I did NOT want to tell her I hadn’t reached it.)  So, with all the determination I had, I finished the race in 43:27.  I was thrilled.  Half dead, but thrilled.  All four of us beat our times from last year!  (Okay, so Marion didn’t run it last year, but still…)

And then there was the post-party – nothing like a beer (or two) on a gorgeous day after a run with good friends!

After leaving the city, we headed to a place closer to home for burgers and drinks on the patio.  Had it not been for kids and husbands waiting at home, I think we could have spent the day there.

It’s hard for me to believe that I was looking forward to running with Dina.  A year ago, she scared the daylights out of me.  I didn’t really know her, but I knew who she was and that she was fast, fit and tough.  She trained my girlfriends to run their first half marathon.  They claimed that she was really nice, but as a brand-new runner, a woman who has run the Boston Marathon and many others intimidated me.

Fast-forward a year, and while training for her fourth run (or maybe it’s her fifth) in Boston, she’s been helping me get faster.  When she has a slow day, she’ll run with me – which makes it a fast day for me.  She is awesome.  Nice, smart, motivating.  She loves to help people, and despite her experience and accomplishments, she makes you feel like an equal.

Sometime after setting my clock last night, I heard from my 5 a.m. date who had to cancel.  I wasn’t too disappointed, as it would be nice to know that I’d get an extra 30 minutes of sleep before Dina kicked my butt.  I adjusted my clock, checked on the kiddies and went to bed.

And woke up to Dan’s alarm at 5:30.  The time I should have been on the path, meeting my friends.  My alarm hadn’t gone off.  Dammit.

I texted everyone to let them know I wouldn’t be there and then lied back down.  Not that I could sleep.  No, I was too pissed off.  So, not only did I miss my run, but I couldn’t take advantage of the extra sleep.

And the bad day just kept going.

I broke the yoke on my over-easy eggs.

One of the kids clogged the toilet – MY toilet, of course.

And Maria puked on her way out the door for school.  Literally.  All over the front steps.

After taking the kids to school,  I finally put the running clothes away that I had set out last night.  I think they were a bad omen.

****Updated****  Despite putting the offensive running gear away, the day did not improve.  To add to it, I had:

A visit to the principal’s office

A full glass of milk spilled

An overflow on the stovetop

A puzzle disaster (two completed puzzles totally dismantled AND intermixed

And, when looking for Andrew near his bedtime, I found this:

The night, unfortunately, is still young.  Pray for me.

“It’s a marathon,” she told me.

OH.

Well, how was I supposed to know?  I wasn’t a runner, and athlete, of any kind.  The most I did was try to kill myself in Wendy’s power lift class at the Y, or mosey along for a while on the eliptical.   (I’ll be honest:  I needed the free daycare more than I cared about any workout.)  At some point my friend Kristina (who had run a marathon!) suggested we run a race of some kind.  I don’t really remember what it was… maybe the zoo 5K?  I entertained the idea for a couple of days before deciding getting pregnant (again) would be less excruciating.

Pregnant.  A great excuse to be a sloth.

So as to keep this novel short(er), I’ll fast-forward a few years to a different city, another baby, and more sloth.

This city?  Runners.  EVERYWHERE.  It’s what people do here.  (Weird, I know.)

Dan joined the local running club (he’s always been a runner) and last year ran his first half-marathon.  I was impressed, but not so impressed that I was going to brave the elements and the children to cheer him on or anything.  (Yes, yes.  Wife of the year here.)

Several of the moms I’m friends with are also runners.  They’d pull up in their vans with their 13.1 stickers and then chat in the parking lot about their running and their races.  “You should join us!” They’d tell me.  “We run at 5:30, before anyone is up.” 

?!?

I was starting to think I needed other friends.  I mean, who the hell gets up at o’dark thirty to RUN?

Then, around Christmastime, Dan and I went to a running club Christmas party.  I was a fish out of water, but it was at my friend Anne’s house (one of the 5:30 a.m. crazies), and I liked having an excuse to get a babysitter and get out of the house for a few hours with Dan.  Plus, despite what you might think, runners like beer.

During the party, Anne and I snuck off to chat and somewhere in that chat was mention of The Shamrock Shuffle.  An 8K race in downtown Chicago.  “There are a bunch of us doing it,” she told me.  “You should do it, too.  It’s really fun.”

Well, I must have been over-served that night, ’cause I actually gave it a three-second thought.  And then, of course, dismissed it.

But, every time I saw one of these crazies ladies, they’d mention the race and what fun it was going to be.  They were sure I could do it.  They could give me a training program.  I should just try.  No one would care if I just walked.  Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.

Well, one night I was drinking a beer with Dan and talking about it with him.  I looked the race up on the web and checked out the registration information.  “Do it,” he told me.  “Sign up!”

And, I caved.  I figured I could try the training and if I hated it, I’d just back out of the race.

But, I didn’t back out.  I trained by myself on a treadmill (this Texas chick hates the cold), at a reasonable hour of the morning (this chick also loves sleeping), at the Y (every treadmill has a TV).  And, before I knew it, there were a bunch of us headed to the city at o’dark thirty, to run some crazy race.

It was a BLAST.

After that race, I kept running.  But, instead of on the treadmill, I ran with the crazies, VERY early in the morning, cold or not.  And that’s where they really got me.

“You should run the half with us,” they said.

“Hahahahahahahahaha,” I said.

“No, really.  We did it last year and we’re going to do it again this year.  It’s really not that hard.”

Something must happen to your brain when you run, because eventually, I found myself saying yes.  Me.  Running 13.1 miles.  When, in March I’d run the first mile I’d run in… 10 years?

As far as training, I ran when my friends did, as far as they did.  I listened to their tips on running, stretching, reading and eating.

And then, suddenly, it was time for the Chicago Half Marathon.

I was looking forward to it, not so much for the race (which had me nervous) but for the fancy accommodations and girl-time.  Becky (the other crazy)’s cousin has a fancy condo in a downtown high-rise and was letting us have it for the night before the race.  So, on Saturday, we left the kids with the hubbies and drove to the city.  We visited the expo, where we picked up our race packets and bought some “must-have” paraphernalia, and then lounged around the condo waiting for the rest of our group to join us.  (There were 6 of us.)  Once they arrived, we all made dinner, enjoyed a glass of wine, indulged in cake pops and cookies, and watched a movie.

View from the kick-ass accommodations

Mmmmmm. Cake pops!

We were up at 4 the next morning and on the train, headed for the race, by 5:30.

It was GREAT.  So many people, so much energy.  Music, signs, team shirts…

The race started at 7, and for me, it was all over 2 hours, 19 minutes and 15 seconds later.

Me.  The non-runner.  The non-early riser.

I think I have a new addiction.  Already, I’m signed up for a 10K in October, a 15K in November, and my favorite, another half marathon in December.

That half will be in Dallas, where my best friends from high school are getting together to run, walk or cheer.  It’ll be a great run, but a better reunion!  Michelle (one of the group) is currently recovering from extensive surgery, but will be out running and training again soon.  Running that half will be a huge victory.

Crazy.

It looks good, don’tcha think?

Do you see anything in that definition about interrupting children? Angry outbursts? Loud background music? The spiritual benefits of being stepped on by a 3-year-old?

Maybe I should start a new practice called Mommyoga where in we integrate obnoxious children into our practice.

I guess it’s my fault, really, for not getting up at 3 a.m. to do my yoga. I may have to start doing that. It’s kind of hard to get that yogi-rhythmic breathing thing going when you’re busy screaming at your children and your dog to GET OUT already!

I know, I know. One day I’ll be soooo sad that my kids aren’t around to bug me during Yoga. But, then again, by the time that happens, I’ll be to OLD to do Yoga.

Now I’m older.  And, after four babies, things aren’t exactly as they used to be. Or where they used to be.  With no recent babies, or any on the way as an excuse, I guess I’ve felt the need to get myself back together.  It’s definitely not as easy as it used to be.  I’ve been dieting.  I’ve been doing yoga.  I’ve been Jillianized daily.  I work out at the gym.  I walk with 10 extra pounds of weight.

And, I think I’ve made some progress.  However… None of the things I’ve done has managed to put my boobs back where they used to be or un-stretch my belly.  Previously, I never worried about my boobs.  They’ve always been “average” and I’ve been fine with that.  (Except during pregnancy, and nursing they were “nicer than average”).  I think, though, that my four kids did some damage.  I swear now they’re smaller and saggier than they’ve ever been.

As a result, my biggest issue is when I view myself from the side.  My belly sticks out and my boobs sag and it’s just depressing.

But no longer!

I have discovered the secret!!!  Bigger, perkier boobs make you look thinner!

Now, despite having a good friend with connections in the nip ‘n tuck industry, I hear discounts aren’t typically given.

So what’s a poor(er) girl to do?  Head to the mall and make a beeline for Victoria’s Secret!!!  (Seriously.  These women aren’t all thin! That’s why the only show the top halves of their bodies!  Right?)

Once you get over the horror of having super-young, stick-thin (but with boobs), model-like employees help you with your old, pudgy, saggy body, you’ll leave the store a new woman.  Or, at least you’ll look like a new woman.  As long as you keep your clothes on, anyway.  Once it all comes off, it’s still the same ‘ol you.  But there are blackout shades and beer goggles for that kind of thing, right?

I’ve taken advantage of the current weather and have been walking as much as I can.  It seems like all of Chicagoland is out biking, running, walking, skating, etc.  It is awesome.  We have a wonderful neighborhood to walk in and an awesome Rails-to-Trails path.  I love the path because it’s flat and wide and very pretty (although things aren’t blooming here yet.)  Oh, and there’s no traffic to worry about.  The downside to incorporating the trail into my walk, though, is trying to figure my distance.  There aren’t any roads that consistently follow the path, so I can’t just retrace my walk in the car and use the odometer.

I thought about digging up my pedometer and walking the same route over the next couple of days, but I don’t think it was the best route.  Probably not one I want to repeat.  But, darn it, I wanted to know how far I’d gone.

Well, heeeeelloooooo, Google!  Google, I found, has this awesome site called Gmaps Pedometer.  Go here: http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/

All you have to do is zoom in on your town.  When you’re close enough, you can click the “start recording” button and then double click your starting point on the map.  Just continue to double click along your route until you make it back.   It will tell you your mileage!  And will show you the 1-mile points!  And, if you’re not too embarrassed to enter your weight, it will even tell you how many calories you burned!

SO COOL, isn’t it? You know what would be even cooler?  If Google was paying me to write this post.

Seriously, though, check it out if you’re a walker, biker, runner, etc.  I know I’ll be using it all the time.

Seriously, though, I could not be more thrilled.  We haven’t joined the Y since moving and it doesn’t look like we will any time soon.  With the crappy weather, it’s too painful for the kids to be outside for any amount of time, and that means I can’t be outside (i.e. walking) for any amount of time.  So, YAY!!!  I have a Wii Fit now!  Between that and The South Beach Diet, I am going to be SLENDER by the time my little brother’s wedding rolls around.

Not only have I lost some weight already, but I am a Hula Hooping QUEEN, people.  (I may suck at downhill skiing, but can Hula Hoop like you wouldn’t believe.)

If you have a Wii Fit and you want to connect, send me email and we’ll swap Wii numbers.  I haven’t quite figured that part out yet, but I’m getting there.  I’m hoping my sister and I can see each others’ scores so we can compete and stay motivated.

Oh, and shhhhhhhh…. I haven’t told the kids about the Wii yet.  I know, I know.  But I want to keep it to myself for a little while before succumbing to the insanity.

Cool, aren’t they? I feel so fashionable wearing them. Previously, my fanciest shoes were my Avia running shoes. No, I don’t run. But I wish I did. I do go to the gym occassionally. Not so much for the exercise, but for the free babysitting.

Which brings me to my point.

After being cooped up in the hotel room for waaaaaay too long yesterday, I rounded everyone one up for a trip to the Y. They needed to play. I needed a workout. We all needed a break from each other. Desperately.

As I was getting ready, I realized I was missing my Avias. In an effort to cut down on all the crap we’ve been hauling around from hotel room to hotel room, I had only allowed myself two pair of shoes on this trip. I left the rest in St. Louis. Including my Avias. What did I have with me? A pair of sandles (those are kick ass, too, by the way, and a gift from my fashionista sister Maggie) and my Merrells.

Now, although the Merrells are billed as “athletic” I don’t think the designers really intended them for the gym. Well, too bad. I was desperate and I couldn’t work out in sandles or go barefoot. Merrells it would have to be and Merrells it was.

I looked at no one as I walked through the gym and climbed aboard a cross trainer. Consumed with my music and my book, I ignored everyone else and worked out as if I was a normal person wearing the appropriate footwear.

And I’m doing it again today. Very soon. Like right now.