Called Out

Ok, I get it.

I haven’t posted much recently. You know it’s bad when fellow bloggers start calling you out on it.  Sorry, Paige.

However, here I am!

And thanks for all the well wishes on the back and sympathy for my pathetic inability to go down a flight of stairs correctly. Handrails are there for a reason, guys. Use them.

Anyway, throughout the rest of the week, my fear of having actually serious injuring myself waned and it seems I’m just a wee bit tender in the lower back region. So I’m comfortable starting up the routine again, but staying off of strength training for a little while longer.

I’m not upset about this. We all know how I feel about using weights. Gross.

By Thursday night, it was decided I could totally go back to my normal morning routine and hit the gym on Friday morning to make friends again with the elliptical.

Friday morning came around. And after four days of sleeping in, why take my chances?  I went for the fifth and swore to make it in today, instead.

I would have felt bad about it, but was instead in an obnoxiously perky mood. Let’s blame overcaffeination that wasn’t necessary because I was extremely well-rested. And the fact that my employer announced we were allowed to wear jeans to work through the end of the holidays.

For an announcement like this to make me literally get up and do a happy dance, it’s clear my life is only average.

Anyway, some of the Chicago Running Girlies decided to congregate with our version of a holiday party (yeah- running is involved), so that is where I’m off to at the moment. Since I wanted to ease back into the working out thing, I sadly decided it would be safer to elliptical my morning away before meeting up with them post-run. Safety first. Blah.

And because you never go to a party empty-handed, I had a mini-marathon baking night with an old coworker last night in preparation.

Snickerdoodles with a white chocolate center and chubby hubby truffles. Excuse the truffles, they need tweaking. However, I don’t even love cinnamon that much and totally went gaga over the snickerdoodles. You should make them. Like yesterday.

We decided to double recipes just to make sure our respective significant others could receive an equal sugar rush. Because the way to a man’s heart is obviously baked goods and steak.

And we all know I don’t know how to make steak.

Happy Saturday, everyone. I cannot think of a way to express my sadness over the current events, but I will say hug everyone a little tighter and treasure the company of those around you. Holiday love. Make it happen.

 

Forced Rest

I’m not even sure where to begin.

I guess we could start with how my gym routine had been going.

Lackluster. The theme of last week.

We all know when it’s time to take a few days off. When you need more than just the obligatory rest day of the week. A break of a few days. Maybe because your body is showing signs of exhaustion. Maybe because your motivation is nonexistent.

I was going through all of that. However, by being a creature of habit, admitting it wasn’t likely.

Then Friday happened.

That Amy carries herself with such grace and poise. Said no one ever.

Clumsy. Accident-prone. Hot mess.

I pretend these things are “endearing”. “Adorable”.

Don’t tell me otherwise.

So when we called Friday a “night in” and changed into lounge pants and hurry down the steep hardwood stairs in my apartment?

How I made it 18 months without doing it is beyond me. But you can imagine the spectacle that happened to cause 3 matching bruises, one for each stair, that my backside slammed into in one spectacularly grand motion.

I’m personally partial to the bruise on my booty. It’s a prettier shade of purple than the rest.

At least a cracked tailbone didn’t occur like the last time I flew down stairs in socks.

Win?

Maybe. My lower back seems to have gotten the worst of it. Needless to say, I haven’t seen the inside of my gym since last week. Nor have I lifted anything heavier than my work bag.

Whether I like it or not, it seems to be this is the chosen week for a break from exercise.

I’m a little perturbed I wasn’t allowed to make this choice on my own, or just taken 2-3 days instead of 4-5. But it’s time to stop dwelling on it.

At least, since it’s the holidays, I have plenty to do.

And now that I’m in two book clubs, hilariously since I can barely keep up with one, there’s that.

And all the friends I can meet up with for foodie dates with awesome bloggie peeps. Especially awesome peeps who live in my neck of the woods and our meetups (although a rare occasion) are nonstop gab fests.

Got adventurous and went with the Healthy Parm with chicken and quinoa. A possible new favorite…

Now that I think about it, that extra hourish of sleep in the morning has been nice…

Don’t feel bad for me just yet.

Now if this stretches into next week…

… someone may lose their head…

A Month Left

Oh hey there, everyone!

Since it’s now December, and instead of just concerning myself with everyday stressors, I’m also now taking on the holidays and “oh yeah, those new years resolutions” and the sinking feeling that comes with them.

For a good laugh, let’s see how I’ve been doing:

1. Cook some sort of fish. I never have. For some reason or another, it freaks me out.

I totally did this. I’m too lazy to hunt down the post, but it was a salmon filet from Trader Joe’s and it turned out mediocre. It didn’t kill me. So it still counts.

2. Go on vacation somewhere. Did this last year by hitting Vegas. Twice if you count the bachelorette I attended there, too. Enjoyed myself a little too much. Need to make taking time off to travel a regular thing…

I took a few extended weekends. Does that count? There was a trip to Washington DC and Boston with the sister wives. A wedding weekend in Indianapolis. A race in Geneva, Wisconsin. Maybe if you merge them all together, it counts? Almost win.

3. Beat my 8k time. It was so frustrating to have a goal of breaking 40 minutes and to finish my last 8k in 40:00:00. Now the question is, who’s doing it with me???

I did not do one 8k this year. Not one. However, I PR’d with a new 5k and half marathon time. We’ll call it another almost win.

4. Figure out my new iPhone. This could take all year. Tech savvy I am not…

I love love love my iphone. And I sort of hate myself for it because I feel so cliché. But it’s true. I love it. And I’m getting better. Win.

5. Bake with yeast. I’m more of a fan of the quick bread variety. Yeast seems like a temperamental ingredient. However, if I really do want to claim to be a “baker”, I should probably grow a pair and man up.

I have not done this. Yet. I still have almost a month. And this seems much more likely to happen than the 8k thing…

6. Run two more half marathons. Thought I had figured out which ones I’d be doing. Now I’m not so sure. Either way, two decent ones shouldn’t be hard to find.

I ran 3, bitches!  The Chi Town Half Marathon where I was totally miserable with stomach cramps. The Chicago Half Marathon where I PR’d like a boss. And the ZOOMA Half Marathon that was one giant hill. BOOM.

7. Master the crow pose in yoga. Not that I’m planning on being a yoga master any time soon, I don’t really even enjoy it, but I bet the crow pose would be an impressive party trick…

I have done yoga maybe twice this entire year. And it was Jillian Michaels yoga. So you decide if that counts. I do not see this happening. I should really just give up. I hate yoga and need to admit it.

8. See a Chicago Bulls game. I heart basketball. The Bulls are my favorite NBA team. Why hasn’t this happened yet?

Took my brother for his birthday. Two birds with one stone kind of deal. WIN!

9. Eat more cookies. It may be hard to beat my consumption from last year. But I’m willing to try.

I’d call this a toss-up. Probably didn’t bake more… but that doesn’t mean consumption was down…

10. Marry a Prince. Kate Middleton did it. Why can’t I?

Well… I’m still in my budget friendly apartment in Chicago, so this clearly did not happen. I’m not so upset about it. Prince Harry seems like a handful who can’t keep his clothes on. What a hot mess. And I’m dating someone who I like better anyway. Win.

All in all, I’m proud of my accomplishments. Especially since the list was practically forgotten about a week after it was written…

Happy Friday, folks!

Leftover Week

A conversation via google chat:

Lauren: I have exciting news!
Me: ?
Lauren: I get double Thanksgiving leftovers this year.

At this point, I thought she was just rubbing it in that she was getting even MORE turkey to my none. I did my best to not call her a jerk right away.

Me: That’s awesome! Leftovers from grandma are the best!
Lauren: Yes. So that’s why I’m getting double. Because she said to “give some to your poor friend Amy who doesn’t get Thanksgiving at home this year.”

My friends are not jerks. I take that back. They’re the cutest things ever.

Thanks to a fondness of running, eating, wine, gossiping about boys, and book club, Lauren and I have been hanging out on the regular.

Because really… what else is there in life?

We decided to do a swap. I, of course, graciously accepted the Thanksgiving food made with love and packed by Lauren’s g’ma and mom.

They even sent individual packets of butter… everyone go “awwww”

And, in turn, I invited Lauren over for a mini friendsgiving to close out Thanksgiving weekend.

Seemed like a fair trade. Or close. Being as how my cooking skills are limited, I may have come out ahead. But who’s really counting?

All I know is…

…I have good friends. And they have families who know how to throw down in the kitchen.

This is why I haven’t had to cook pretty much all week.

And this is why I’ve been busy running over 4 miles every morning this week.

Worth it.

The end of the leftovers are being consumed for lunch today.

Who wants to cook for me next?

Not Thinking

As my personal and work lives both continue to be a whirlwind of activity, when I finally am left to myself, it seems I prefer doing things that don’t require any actual brain activity.

Like catching up on my DVR. The long list of unwatched shows gives me serious anxiety.

Or when working out. I’ve been dull. Jillian has guided me along the process once or twice a week, which is greatly appreciated. And after discussing all the joys of running outside, I’ve surrendered to the Chicago weather and have been a zombie on the treadmill/stairs/elliptical all week.

This morning I actively tried to combat boredom with speed intervals, but it’s clear there are no races in my near future. Which is a good thing. My heaving after approximately 4 miles of speedwork is disturbing.

Mental note: add race searches to the list of things to look into next week during Thanksgiving break.

That and cooking.

Wait… what’s that again?

Don’t fret- I’m still eating well. This boy I know keeps acting like he enjoys my company around dinner time. Which reminds me- I think there should always be mirrors in booths of places that serve ribs.

Just sayin’.

And even if I’m still picking dried BBQ sauce out from under my fingernails, it’s good this is happening, other than the immediate benefit of my mood being elevated when he’s around. I mean… if we weren’t going out, every meal I have would look like this:

Which is similar to every other meal I’ve had for the last… uh… two weeks?

I swear even the people working at the grocery store have recognized and are now smirking at either my disgusting “grocery shopping” sweats, or my recent eating habits.

Which I personally find offensive. What’s so wrong with wanting to be comfy while being a responsible consumer and purchasing wine and deli sandwiches… everyday…?

Nevermind. Answered my own question.

Let’s pretend I’m just making room for Thanksgiving.

And just so my mother isn’t nervous I’m spending Thanksgiving in front of the television by myself with a turkey lean cuisine…

Apparently the shindig I’m attending is a big deal. I even have my own customized name plate for the occasion.

Fancy!

And until then… moooooore deli!

Happy Friday, kids. Get silly. And have the pizza delivery number in your phone before heading out to the bars. It’s easier that way.

KBYE!

30 Degree Swings

Seriously kids… how gorgeous was it where you were this weekend?

Yesterday, November 10th, it was almost 70 degrees.

And here I thought I wouldn’t get to run outside again until March.

After passing out on the sofa at maybe 10pm Saturday night (party animal!), my neck was completely screwed, but the rest of me felt more refreshed than I’ve felt in a long time on a Sunday morning.

Out the door I went.

Running through the neighborhoods and the lakefront is way better than my routine during the week in the winter months when I usually take to the treadmill. Because instead of just staring stupidly at the crappy videos playing on one of the generic music stations at the gym, I’m actually thinking about stuff.

Important stuff. Like recent news headlines. Or what to wear next weekend.

Or today, where I did think about the two things mentioned above (I’m so indecisive on boot decisions…), but also what I’ll miss as it slowly becomes frozen and buried under snow.

Ok… so I won’t miss the random homeless guy peeing in a bush at an intersection. But the other things- like how pretty the lake is, the amazing skyline that slowly unfolds before me, or the random art that shows up around every other turn.

Ooooohhhhhh prettttyyy colorrrrsssss….

4 miles done. 4 miles that reminded me I’ve slacked since the last half marathon and I’m already somewhat ruined by my lazy treadmill runs. But 4 miles, nonetheless.

Today is supposed to be approximately 30 degrees cooler than the weekend. I’ve prepared by breaking out the extra comforter and sexy sweatpants. The roommate and I have reclaimed our crock pot after it being held hostage for 8 months at a friend’s house (still bitter). We’ve stocked up on pasta and wine.

We’ve entered hibernation mode. But that’s ok. I’m ready for it. There’s always the liquor store down the street in case I run out of wine.

Bring it on, Chicago.

Hot Chocolate Chicago 15k: From the Other Side

Being up at 4:00 on a Sunday morning was rough. But since my presence was necessary at 5:30 down in Grant Park, you do what you’ve got to do.

It’s all for the runners.

And the chocolate. If we’re being honest.

I was volunteering at the Hot Chocolate 15k/5k, and what do you know? They put my group in the fondue tent.

Dream. Come. True. Or so I thought.

This was a 15k I’ve ran the last two years. And to be honest, I didn’t particularly enjoy it either time. Simply put, I’m not a cold weather runner and the race is way too big for my liking.

Or for anyone’s liking, from what it sounds like. Races that grow beyond their capacity quickly become disorganized disasters. But because I’m a fan of chocolate and everything it stands for, why not take myself out of the equation and be part of the solution by volunteering for it?

Well. Here’s why.

It all started when Google told me the brown line would be running at 4:30 in the morning. It wasn’t. So I had no choice but to run the mile to the red line train in hopes of not being late.

The red line runs all night, which is quite obvious. Because it smells like pee.

Funny thing about that, though- I made it to the stop just in time to witness last call at the 5:00 bars. This means I took the red line, which smells like pee, with a bunch of drunken club-goers who got an additional hour of party time due to daylight savings.

Serenity now.

When I finally made it downtown. I’ve been to races early. But this was just eerie.

Got to the volunteer race tent easily enough. Could not find where to go after that. Asked around. Waited. Asked some more. Finally found a girl who was also working in the fondue tent and we realized the rest of those volunteers had managed to group up without being announced and walk away without us.

So we get to the tent and get our assignments. And do nothing for an hour until the race ends.

The crowds came. In masses. People shouting. No one knows where things should go. Shortages of everything- help, food, containers…

Then, the unthinkable happens. I was in the first line to run out of fondue.

When the name of the race is the “Hot Chocolate” race, DO NOT be in the line that runs out of chocolate. Just don’t.

People raged. Which is fair. I would have, too. But I can’t make more appear out of thin air, either. I was not the one in charge to go pick up the chocolate. I believe RAM Racing was. BIG FAIL.

It may be time to disassociate myself from this race from here on out. Not impressive on either side of the spectrum. I love a lot of RAM events (Bucktown… still cool in my book). But this one is officially too big. A shame, too, because it’s a “first race” for a lot of people. Not a great introduction into the racing community.

And no… I didn’t walk away with any chocolate.

Instead, I just walked away tired. And lacking caffeine.

Win some, lose some.

It’s always interesting to be on the other side of a race. And for the runners who thanked us for being there? It’s very much appreciated.

But man… that sucked.

Moving on…

In all honesty, I’m glad it’s Monday. Rarely is that said. But when I have dinner plans and movie night. Not with the same person.

What can I say? I’m popular…

Happy Hour Happenings

I’m not quite sure what it is, but whenever there is a need to share important information, a happy hour seems to be one of the favorite ways to do it.

Who can resist drink specials and bar food?

Anyway, I haven’t been able to join Lauren and her Team Challenge group for their weekly runs recently. And since that’s the time we use to gossip while the rest of the group logs hard-core mileage, we decided maybe we should just call it what it is and sit on our butts to chat instead. And eat pizza. Obvi.

Lauren said she was picky. And then proceeded to list off my favorite toppings as the ones she’d eat. Black olives, mushrooms, and pepperoni. Love.

Storytelling is way easier that way.

Which reminds me, I believe we’d both like to publicly apologize to the people in the booth behind us. You had no warning of the things you’d overhear. It wasn’t fair.

Anyway, after all the pizza and garlic knots (um… yum), it only seemed fair to get physical activity in this morning.

Which, after half-priced bottles, isn’t always the greatest. But then again, if I continue to have dates and happy hours every day of the week, I’m just going to have to suck it up and deal.

Being a social butterfly. It’s like totally super hard. #firstworldproblems

So yes, I had my first run this morning since the half marathon. 4.9 miles outside because this randomly warm weather will never last and I’m determined to take advantage of it as much as possible.

It feels weird to not have a race in the pipeline. But since I’m still seemingly motivated to get up before 5:00 to do something productive, I’m just going to enjoy the lack of stress from not having an end goal.

Freeballin’ it, ya’ll.

We’ll see how long it lasts.

And being as how I can’t seem to connect one thought to another in this post, and figuring out a way to eloquently wrap this up is not going to happen, I should just quit while I’m ahead and consider scheduling in a few nap times over the weekend.

K, bye.

ZOOMA Great Lakes Half Marathon: The Neverending Hill

The most well-deserved after-race medal/award I’ve ever earned.

Truth.

This last weekend, us ZOOMA ambassadors reunited, along with a few more awesome Chicago bloggers/runners in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. Our weekend had finally come- The ZOOMA Great Lakes Half Marathon.

We rented a lake house, officially dubbed the party house, and had ourselves a good time.The house was amazing and we easily fit 14 ladies comfortably for the night.

All we had to do was supply the food.

ssshhh… don’t tell the rest of the healthy living bloggers we may have had more candy than vegetables on site…

If only we didn’t have such a rude 5:00 wakeup call.

Twinsies! Or at least until I became a total baby and decided I was too cold to not dress in layers…

I hope you like bagels and peanut butter… because that’s what you’re eating…

Luckily for me, our breakfast was what I normally eat for prerace. Sometimes it’s awesome us bloggers can be so cliché with our peanut butter.

Because it was a point-to-point race, we met up at the Abbey Resort to get shuttled out to the start line.

Kelly was super pumped we were the cool kids on the back of the bus. Or at least we were self-proclaimed to be. Still counts.

Two hours after waking up, the sun finally starts to rise. So many things wrong with that sentence…

The view was lovely, but the temps were not as nice. We all shivered and shuddered until the start. I opted to keep my long sleeves on- something to be thankful for every time there was a brisk breeze.

So how was the race you ask?

Well.

We were warned about the hills. But even the warnings were not enough to prepare me for what was about to happen.

Turn the first corner, oh hey- a hill.
Congrats, you’ve hit mile marker 2.  Go run up a hill.
You’ve been running on a flat surface for a quarter mile. This is too long, so go run up a hill.
You just finished a subtle incline for a mile. Go run a steep hill.

I truthfully believe I was running uphill for 75% of the race.

The worst was near the end- mile 11. At that point, I was just keeping my head down to avoid the soul crushing inclines ahead of me. But at that particular spot, I looked up. Not one person was running up the hill. It was THAT steep. I attempted my arm-pumping, look like I’m running but in all actuality am barely moving, run. For about 20 feet. Screw this, I’m walking.

I would have cried, but it’s dangerous to dehydrate yourself like that in a race.

So after the half mile from hell (I don’t think it was this long, but that’s what it felt like), we ran a little longer and turned around. To go back down it.

Now, I’ll go ahead and say my love of the stair machine at the gym probably saved my life going up those hills (because we all know I wasn’t training for them on the treadmill). But the downhill? It was so steep. And it took so much energy to slow myself down as I was barreling down, that every time my foot hit the road, my body got a shock to the system. Everything vibrated. With every step.

“This is going to hurt sooooo bad tomorrow.”

But that was about the end of it. Which was good. I was taking a beating. My endurance somehow held up. But my joints weren’t going to take much more.

2:00:04.

10th in my age group. A small race, but I feel it important to throw that out there, anyway.

Some of the ambassadors post race. Smiling. Because it was over. Whew!

And with that, I finished my 5th half marathon.

Check out the sweet compression socks. It’s how a lot of us ambassadors were able to see each other in the distance. And they kept us warm. Duh.

Thank goodness there was wine at the post race. That’s all I have to say about that.

And thank goodness my parents were there to take me to lunch afterwards.

Because I wanted to eat EVERYTHING.

A local brew called Spotted Cow to go with my turkey burger. Because I like diversity.

Oh and more food…

Why yes, the tree of broccoli was quite delicious with my mahi mahi. Thanks for asking.

So yeah. That was my ZOOMA experience. Not my best race time. But not my worst. And with all the hills? I’ll take it.

Plus, I got to see my parents and hang with a bunch of pretty awesome girls for the weekend.

Wine. Jewelry. And a solid girls weekend.

Worth it.

Now excuse me as me and my sore thighs limp on out the door to work…

Laters.

Friday Facts About The ZOOMA Half

Facts revolving around my upcoming half marathon weekend:

1. My ZOOMA Women’s half marathon is tomorrow. I have not trained adequately for it. My hopes are that the efforts put into the Chicago Half Marathon in September will at least halfway carry over. Or just a smidge.

But in the meantime, I’m packed and super excited!

Sometimes it pays to raid your mom and dad’s house over holidays for all the good stuff.

That’s where I got my old jenga game from middle school, not the wine. I can buy that myself now…

2. I am riding with the lovely Meghan to Wisconsin for said race. We have met once and ran into each other while running on the lakefront once. If I disappear for an extended number of days, you know what happened. SEND HELP.

Just kidding, Meghan. I totally trust you.

But just in case, guys…

3. My parents are meeting up with me in Wisconsin to watch the race and take their first official trip to Wisconsin. I’m going to introduce them to cheese curds the same way I was almost two years ago. With good beer in a bar. This may be disastrous.

4. The state of my nails are atrocious about 90% of the time. However, for the time being, they are rocking the blue. Not ZOOMA blue, but close enough.

I really love that it’s time to break out the dark polish again. Makes me feel so bad ass for no good reason at all.

Even if I’m really awful at giving myself manicures. Points for trying?

5. Some of us girls are staying together to make it a super fun, estrogen-filled weekend. We decided to potluck it out. I made cookies.

You’ll hear more about those later. But feel free to drool. They are delicious. I should know. I had no less than four last night and intend to have one with my second cup of coffee later on.

I have a sugar addiction problem. Send more help.

6. There are no set goals for the race itself. Just to finish. Which is technically a goal, but stop getting so technical on me. This is mostly due to all that hill training I planned to do never happening (shame), the furthest I’ve ran since my last race was 8 miles (shame), and my cold apparently got a second wind and lingered until about two days ago (not my fault).

This is just not going to be “my race”.

But whatever. The weather seems like it’ll pull through, Wisconsin is supposedly quite pretty at this time of year, a lot of great girls are running it, and I get a necklace at the end.

And wine. Lots of wine.

My parents should probably find me at the finish sooner than later.

Did I mention there’s wine?

Where was I?

Oh yeah… so that’s my projected weekend in a nutshell. I hope you all have an equally fun time. Or at least get to drink equal amounts of wine.

Did I mention there’s going to be wine?

Wait… where was I again…?