I am a runner

I ran my first race on Sunday.  Nothing huge, it was just a 5K.  To me, this race was the start of a new life.  A new way to challenge myself. 

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

My childhood, teenage years, and early twenties was filled with sports and athletic accomplishments that would surprise many people.  I was an all-state athlete during high school and made a name for myself as one of the best fast-pitch softball pitchers in the state.  I got a sports scholarship to play for a college team and after a pretty bad hip injury, I had to stop playing for a while.  I lost my scholarship and realized that the only reason I picked the school I was attending was because of their softball program, so I left to go to community college and find out what I wanted to do with my life.

Still, I worked out like an athlete.  I even joined some recreational fast-pitch softball teams and did exceptionally well.  I taught pitching for a while.  I ran about 25-30 miles a week, lifted weights, and lived a very active lifestyle. 

And then, I stopped.  I just stopped.  Exercise no longer had the mental solace that I once reveled in.  I just felt tired when I thought about working out.  I would pick it back up now and then, but for the most part I became lazy.  A couch potato.  Fat.  That’s how I felt.  Fat.  Weak.  Gross. 

Maybe it was the horrible relationship that did me in.  I know I was in a horrible way when that asshole stole my money and my…well, maybe he stole my everything.  But sometimes I feel that I’m giving him too much credit.  He was a fucking idiot.  Which kind of makes it worse, I let an idiot dupe me and steal my life savings.  If I really dig deep, I can admit that my decline happened before I met him.  Because sometimes I think that had I been in a better place mentally, I would have never given him the time of day. 

No, I’ve decided it wasn’t the horrible relationship that did me in.  I can’t be so pathetic to blame this on a man.  No no no.

I was in a funk.  Everyone gets them.  Mine happened to last a few years.  Not a depression, just a funk.  Like, I hated the way my body felt and how my body looked…but I didn’t do anything about it.  Just complained and continued to hold the remote in my hand changing channels. 

I was also busy, ahem very busy, getting myself out of debt.  I worked hard for that money.  Some of you know what I’m talking about.  Fucking hard for it.

And then, I find myself alone for the first time in many years.  Like seriously alone.  Not dating.  At times not even wanting to date.  I’ve been taking time to learn who I really am.  I’m in my 30s now, I should know exactly who I am.  I’m also, and this is big, ready to start dating again.  No more emotionless fucking…actual dating.

A few years ago, I started walking.  I would walk miles and miles, never satisfied.  Never.  I tried running a few times, but was always discouraged by how weak my body was.  I was used to the younger and stronger me.  The one who could run a 6 minute mile.  This older version was watching her younger ghost leave her in the dust.  It was horrible.  After a while, I just gave up on walking too. 

And then my aunt got diagnosed with cancer.  I started asking questions about my family and it turns out that I don’t have really great genes running in my family.  Hypertension, heart disease, blood clots, stroke, cancer, diabetes…all right there in my family tree.  I also watched, and I hate admitting this, an Oprah episode that featured Dr. Oz and what he was saying spoke to me.  I realized that I AM NOT a victim of my genes and that I AM in control of my health.  I looked at myself in the mirror and I said, “Fuck this shit.  It’s time.”

First things first, I rarely endorse anything on this page but if you want to start running from scratch may I recommend the podcasts “Couch to 5K”.  You can find it on iTunes.  It’s a 9 week program and it works.  The guy talking is a bit annoying, but whatever…we’re all annoying sometimes.

After completing the program, I just started running.  Even on days when I thought my legs would fall off.  I ran.  I’m now running about 20-25 miles a week, with an increase of 10% each week.  My body is changing.  My mind is changing.  I feel my strength.  I feel at peace.  And I’m only at the beginning. 

So, my first race was Sunday and my next race is this coming Sunday.  I’m racing all summer, leading up to 2 half-marathons and a full marathon in the fall.  I know I can do it.  I’ve already signed up for the following races and will be signing up for more as they come up (if you’re a stalker, please keep your creepiness checked until after the race…that is, if you can pick me out of a crowd of a few thousand):

5/18/08–Breast Cancer Research 5K
5/25/08–Ovarian Cancer Research 5K
6/1/08–Stroke 5K
6/15/08–Prostate Cancer 5K
6/28/08–Melanoma Research 5K
7/26/08–MCAP 5 mile
8/24/08–Livestrong 5K
9/21/08–ING Philadlephia Distance Run half-marathon
10/19/08–Atlantic City Marathon (I’m doing the half-marathon)
11/1/08–Steps for Seizures 5K
11/23/08–Philadelphia Marathon (I’m doing the full marathon)

Let the training begin…I’m ready. 

After the race on Sunday, I took my number and wrote my time on it, and then I hung it on the wall of my office.  I felt so proud.  I felt emotional.  I decided that I will hang all of my numbers on the wall to show my progress and to motivate me on those days when I’m feeling a bit lazy. 

Oh, and if I can do this…so can you.  Cheesy?  Yes.  True?  Absolutely.

So, go on and get up off your ass.

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What a week…..!

Thank you all so much for your kind words and emails.  I haven’t really been in the mood to write back, but I wanted to let every one of you that wrote that I appreciate your words more than anything.

My aunt is hanging in.  She is peeing on her own again, so that’s pretty good news.  She has two tumors that are pressing against her kidneys, which is causing the severe pain and other problems.  She received radiation the other day in hopes that it will shrink the kidneys enough to bring her pain from 10 to 6.  I spoke with her the other night and you can hear the pain in her voice.  She sounds out of breath.  She knows she’s dying.  My heart broke when she told me that she didn’t thing she’d be at this point so soon.  She thought she had more time.  Fuck, what do you say to that?

There were two deaths in my family this week.  Well, not really my family but people close to my family so I call them family.  I found about the second death last night, which caused me to have another sleepless night.  I took a vacation day today in order to rest.  I feel like my brain was mush.  I tried to get myself moving this morning, but my body was like…no, go back to sleep.  I took 2 Tylenol PM’s at 5 AM, called in to work, and passed out until about 10.  I can’t remember the last time I was in bed at 10 in the morning.  I felt like I slept the day away.  Now, I’m just relaxing.  It’s a beautiful day and I’m on my porch with my kitties writing while listening to Pandora.

In other news, I think I’m going to give up Mr. Wood.  Maybe.  I don’t know.  I’ll still admire him from afar, but I don’t think he’s interested.  Yesterday was the first time I saw him since I said “bless you” and nothing.  I didn’t see him until I got to my stop and he was ahead of me.  He parks near me.  I walked by his car, a white cadillac, and it was a perfect opportunity to say hi since nobody was around, but when I looked over at him he turned his head.  He also lives close to me, because I pulled out of the parking lot behind him and he went the same way I go for most of the trip home.  I’m thinking he’s probably married or he has a girlfriend or doesn’t think I’m attractive or something like that.

And when I think about a man driving a white caddy, I think…pimp.  I’d still go out with him if he asked me though.  There’s something about him.

I’m getting more into running than ever.  It’s weird, but I feel by body coming back to me.  The athlete I once was.  Once upon a time, my body was a fucking machine.  I ran 6 days a week and lifted weights and did yoga.  It’s been many years since I’ve been able to run the way I’m doing it now.  I feel good.  I’m doing a whole bunch of races this summer, hopefully working up to full marathons.  My goal is to eventually qualify for the Boston marathon in the next couple years.  I know I can do it.  I just have to train hard and keep myself focused on that goal.

Oh, and someone asked me if my boobs shrunk with all of this weight loss and exercising.  The answer is no.  I’m still a DD.  The only thing that’s shrunk is the bra band.  I’ve been a DD since I was in high school and I reckon I’ll still be a DD when I’m 100 years old.

I’m off to chill out.  I have a new favorite chick flick movie, The Jane Austen Book Club.  I love it.  I’m going to watch it again.

Have a great weekend.

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It’s my birthday eve and…

…I’m at home in my jammies watching Harry Potter movies. I know I know, you’re like “holy shit, Debbie leads an exciting and sexy life” and please, don’t be jealous. You too can drink tea in gaucho pants and fuzzy socks. You too can watch Harry Potter movies 1-5, only taking a break to do a Bhangra dance workout. You too can jump in surprise and excitement when the ringing phone breaks the monotony, only to have your stomach drop in disappointment as it’s not someone vaguely interested in how you’re doing…but alas, a telemarketer.

It’s called having no life and it’s free to everyone.

It’s fucking cold today. I love it, but I would have like to run today and it was just too damn cold.

I did go out to dinner last night with my mom and stepdad. We went to a seafood restaurant and it was heaven. I chucked my diet out for the dinner and ate whatever I wanted. The table next to us was celebrating their friend’s 50th birthday and when I got a good look at the woman, she looked 70. My mom is 53 and the woman looked like she could be her mother. People need to start taking care of themselves a bit more.

I lost 7 lbs this week. Yes, I was shocked too. I suppose eating only 1,000 calories a day works. And working out. I’ll keep you all updated on my progress. I’m only doing this 1,000 calorie a day crap for 4 more weeks.

I’ve also been doing very well being a vegetarian. I’m trying to eat a balanced and varied amount of food. I found an amazing produce spot at the Reading Terminal Market. They have everything. Seriously. I got a package of shitake mushrooms for $1.68. I almost peed myself I was so excited. I love that I can go there during my lunch hour and get the things I need for dinner. Convenient, cheap, and fresh. I’m about to pee with excitement again.

Yes, I get that excited over food.

And I want to say thank you to HDW for my awesome gift. I can’t wait to read it, as I heard great reviews saying it’s hilarious and quite well written. I read his first book, The Know It All, and enjoyed it immensely.

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I’ve been hit, wish me luck

Last Thursday night I went to my friend’s house for a bit of wine and relaxation. I wasn’t going into work the next day, so I was able to have a proper night out. My friend’s husband was having a few of his buddies over to watch some basketball. I was laying on the couch and my friend was laying on the floor of their formal living room. We each had about 3 glasses of wine and were feeling quite good.

The game was over and Ron, my friend’s husband, comes up from the family room with 2 other guys. I know the one, but I had never seen the other guy before. He was fucking gorgeous. So, in true Debbie style I ignored the gorgeous guy. I stay away from men who are too pretty. Old habit. Long story. Someday I may tell you.

Anyhow, Ron got a couple new bottles of wine out and the guys sat down with Kelli and I. We were talking about all kinds of stuff. Mostly funny stories and how retarded we all are. I couldn’t help but notice that hot guy, who is named John, is staring at me. Now, I don’t read too much into this as I am a little drunk and sure I look a mess. After about an hour I decide it’s time to go home and leave. I had to cook the next day for the baby shower.

The next day, I get up and go to my mom’s for a day of cooking my ass off and fun with the baby. Funny, but I thought about the guy several times that day. There was something about him. When I get home that night, I’m exhausted and don’t even want to check my email but I do. There’s an email from John.

Huh?

It basically says that he’s really attracted to me and asked me if I’d like to have dinner with him. He leaves his phone number. I’m definitely attracted to him too, but….

…here’s how I’m an ass….

I write back that I’m really not interested in starting a relationship now, but thanks. I know, I’m an idiot. But, I know how these pretty boys operate. I have no interest in being the ‘good enough for now’ girl. A bit jaded? Yes, I know.

Well, he writes back. He’s not taking no for an answer. It seems that my dear friend Kelli has filled him in on me. He’s ready for my tricks.

I’m fucked. Cause now I can’t stop thinking about him.

He writes me another email. I try to bullshit, again, about how I’m not ready for anything. He’s still not buying it. He has my phone number now. My friend thinks he’s perfect for me. He leaves a few messages this week. He’s not acting like a stalker. He’s actually laughing at me. My friend says he’s determined.

I get the background info on him. He’s 36, brown hair, green eyes, tall, looks good in glasses, and never been married. Has had several long-term relationships. He’s got a great job, I won’t get into that now but let’s just say that he’s really really really smart. He’s been Ron’s friend since college and has just moved to this area. He actually likes living in NJ, which is strange. Kelli loves him. She says that he was taken with me.

I finally spoke with him on the phone last night. I’m going to dinner with him on Friday night. He’s picking me up at 8. He told me to dress casually. He’s not a fancy kind of guy and is best in a casual setting.

I hate fancy too. So far, so good.

I must admit, I’m really excited for this date. Let’s hope I don’t fuck it up and that he doesn’t turn out to be like this freak.

—

My feet have been torn apart by my shoes. Yesterday, I wore a pair adorable flats. Looks can be deceiving cause they chewed my feet up. Today, I wore a pretty pair of black heels and the blisters on my poor feet were further aggravated. Now, I’m sitting here soaking my bloody sore feet and hoping that I can put on the sneakers I’m wearing tomorrow. Why must I have paper thin skin on my feet? Anyone got an answer for that?

For the ladies:


Cute, but evil, brown shoes.


Black heels.

I’m kind of bummed out that my legs are hurting me again. I ran yesterday and Monday, and my legs were killing me. I’m buying a new pair of sneakers this weekend and I’m going to a specialty running store. Someone suggested I go there because they fit your shoe on you and test your feet to see what’s best. I think this will help tremendously. I just wish my legs would work with me, since I want to run the Race for a Cure and I also want to be able to wear this costume for Halloween so it’s essential I run. It’s the only exercise I really like doing. If the new sneakers don’t work, I’m going to have to start riding a my bike but I’m not too thrilled with that idea since the long bike rides make my crotch hurt.

Oh the dilemmas I have.

Kisses.

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I can’t think of a title, so this is it

What have I been up to this weekend?

Hmmm…….it’s a secret……I’m gonna make you guess….

come on….guess…..

You can’t?…I don’t believe you…..try harder…

You can do it……no?….

Oh, okay I’ll tell you what I did.

NOTHING.

I need a fucking life. My friends suck ass. The married assholes that they are. All smug because they’re getting regular sex. With or without their spouses. Bastards. “We’re having a dinner party, Debbie. It’s going to be all couples. I hope you don’t mind.” You know what assholes, I didn’t mind. I put new batteries in my vibrator and had a lovely time. Oh, and I made myself a magnificent dinner. Better than anything you people will be having. I even made dessert. So there.

Pathetic. Oh, you bet your ass I am.

I’ve been ridiculously horny again. I told you all I need to have a steady boyfriend, if only for the sex. I wish I was a slut, but I’m not so I suppose I will stay horny until I find a man I like outside the bedroom. It’s all about the foreplay. And conversation and dates are just that….foreplay. Turn me on mentally and I’m putty in your hands.

I am running without pain thanks to a mineral supplement that my doctor prescribed and the two needles she gave me. She said that my one medication, the one that made me poo in the post below, is lowering my potassium levels. It doesn’t matter that I eat bananas or kiwi. I needed a supplement. I ran Thursday, Friday, and Saturday with little to no pain. And I’ve had no pain today.

I spent the majority of the day today at my mother’s working on that fucking DSL connection. I was able to install it and it’s now working perfectly. It only took me 4 hours today. I had to take my ethernet port from my old computer and put it in hers. And then I had to search for a driver because Windows sucks donkey asshole. Luckily, I brought my laptop with me so that we didn’t have to search for the driver on dial-up. The search for the driver almost popped several veins in my head, but I finally found it. Yay for me.

I almost fell asleep writing that last paragraph. Boring. Sorry about that.

Anyhow, I’m signing off now. I’ve updated Coquettishly if you’re interested. People are actually asking me questions. I love it.

Bye.

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Thank the stars above…

I slept last night and for the first time in weeks the alarm clock woke me. I felt like I could have slept about 12 more hours, but I’m happy with what I got. It’s a start.

I had dinner with my mom last night and I’m really getting tired of her. Please don’t get me wrong, I love my mother. It’s just that we carpool in the morning, walk from the train into work, she works for the same company as me so I see her at work, we walk to the train after work, and carpool home. It’s enough. There’s only so much you can talk to your mom about. I’ve run out of things to say. She was nagging me this morning because I was moody (WTF?). I have never been full of sunshine and happiness in the morning. Ever. If I have to have an alarm clock wake me up, then I’m pissy for about an hour or two. If I wake up naturally (or awoken to do something like have sex or go on vacation or something fun like that) then I’m perfectly delightful. She should know this. What I really need on these mornings is peace and quiet and time to bond with my cup of coffee.

So, we’re at dinner (Applebee’s, her choice, yuck!) and I noticed that there was an enormous number of enormous people dining. I know that there is an obesity epidemic going on in this country, but apparently my head has been up my ass because I’m just starting to notice that there are a whole lotta giant people out there. I’m not talking a little chubby, I mean huge/killing themselves/buffet eating people.

I’ve always been concious of my weight. I’ve been sickly skinny to kinda fat and I’m finally getting to where I’m comfortable with my body, even though I’m by no means thin. But I’m not fat either. But even when I was kinda fat, I was never grossly obese. I could still walk and go up steps and do day to day life without stopping for a rest. It’s amazing to see so many people letting themselves go. I think if you’re having trouble walking on your two feet (something that has separated us humans from the chimps and allowed us to develop the hands we have and thus the brains we have that have allowed us to build the cars we now drive to the drive-thru joints we made with the hands we developed from being upright and walking) then you need to rethink how you’re living your life. We were made to walk. Get up and walk to the store. Take the steps. Park in the back of the parking lot and walk. Unless you are disabled or elderly, I don’t feel sorry for you when you’re having trouble walking. And to me, being obese is not a disablity–it’s a choice. I worry about these obese people. Don’t they know they are killing themselves? And please don’t take these opinions as me making fun of obese people. I wouldn’t do that. I used to smoke and I know how difficult quitting something that is a stress outlet and an addiction (in a way) can be. And I know that some people have genuine physical problems that can make them more prone to being overweight, so go to the doctor and do something about it. You’ll feel better.

All that being said, I like myself with a few extra pounds. I’m too tall and broad and my breasts are too big for me to be too skinny. I’ve been there and I look unhealthy. I also like looking like a woman and not a teenaged girl. And as long as my bloodwork is perfect, which it is, than fuck it. You will never hear me saying I’m on a diet. I need butter. I need ice cream. I need chocolate. I need pasta and bread. I could die tomorrow and if I denied myself these wonderful things I would be one of those restless spirits haunting the earth, unsatisified. Instead of looking for my lost love or something romantic like that, I’d be searching for hunk of Italian bread. I think the key to enjoying life and food is moderation. This isn’t a new concept. You all know what I’m talking about. You don’t have to eat the whole plate of food or get a large ice cream cone or eat the whole loaf of bread. It’s not about how much you eat, it’s about how you eat it. I’m a slow eater. I savor each bite. I know I get on people’s nerves when I eat, but I don’t care. I hate eating in a hurry or on the go. I set the table for myself every night (when I cook) and eat slowly, in silence. It’s nice. But the good thing about eating slow is that it gives my stomach enough time to tell my brain when I’m getting full, so I don’t tend to overeat. Except at Thanksgiving or my favorite Italian restuarant (I swear they put crack in the food, can’t stop eating when I’m there). I’m also a big believer in eating non-processed foods. I like fresh. I like organic. I like veggies and fruit and nuts and grains and things that have never been in a factory. If I cook you dinner, you can be sure it will be from stratch using fresh ingredients.

So, I eat what I want most of the time. And I don’t mind the fullness of my body. I think there are many women who are afraid of that fullness. I’m not anymore. The only thing that really annoys me about my body is my belly, but there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s heredity. My dad’s mother’s whole side of the family had bellies. And these were small, skinny people. My grandmother was 4’10”. I remember being super super skinny and still having a belly. I’ve done (and do) hundreds of situps, cut carbs, did cardio, lifted weights, pilates, yoga…everything and I still have a belly. I’m starting to embrace the belly and come to terms with the fact that I will never be one of those women with a perfectly flat stomach. It’s not the end of the world. We all have that one thing we’d like to change about ourselves. That’s mine.

I’m going to leave you with a funny story because I can’t have a completely serious post. Not when I’m celebrating the fact that I slept through the night.

Background of story: I worked in the children’s department of Sears for five years (age 17-22) and this story takes place in the girl’s department, I was 18. I remember this everytime I walk into Sears and last night was no different.

I was putting clothes away from the fitting room and straightening the department. It was a good night. I was wearing a new outfit and a pair of new fabulous shoes that I bought the day before in the shoe department. Believe it or not, sometimes you can find a really pretty pair of shoes in Sears. So, I’m fixing everything and I stepped back to walk around a rack and it felt like I stepped on a article of clothing or something like that. I looked down and saw that it wasn’t clothing, but a huge pile of shit. Yes, shit. Human adult pile of shit. I screamed and gagged and vomited right there next to the shit. I then took my shoe off and screamed to one of the ladies working that night that someone took a huge shit on the floor. I walked barefoot into the bathroom and rinsed my mouth and splashed my face and got myself together. I was crying pretty hard. It’s not easy to recover from stepping in poop…indoors. By the time I get back to the department, there were a bunch of managers there and the janitor is cleaning up. I apologize about my puking and the janitor said, “Girl, I would have puked too.” I ask the manager if I could leave and he said no. There isn’t anyone to cover me. I tell him I can’t put that shoe on. He tells me to go clean it off. So, I lose it. I start screaming about how they’re going to give me a new pair of shoes and didn’t any of those motherfucking cameras they have all over catch anyone squatting down to take a fucking shit and if they had, how come nobody came over here to take that fucking pig down. I was screaming all of this in the children’s department. There were people all over the place. The manager was mortified. In the end, I got a new pair of shoes, a gift certificate for $100 to keep my mouth closed, and a funny story. What made the night even more classic was that immediately after I finished screaming my mother and stepdad were stepping off of the escalator and upon hearing the story said, “Well Debbie, shit happens.” I didn’t find this funny.

Have a great day!

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