Beginnings

It's been eight months since I ran the LA Marathon. My body is healed but my habits are broken. During a year full of stressful situations (switching apartments, switching jobs, switching cars, recovering from a race, recovering from broken love, recovering from a car accident, dealing with my own health issues, and the health of my loved ones), I somehow forgot to take care of myself. Rather than staying positive and focusing on the new habits I'd learned, I let myself go. Instead of healing emotional wounds, I covered them up with band-aids of cigarettes, whiskey, fast food, Netflix, and sleeping until noon. And the occasional Outkast song. Of course, none of it worked. It only made life harder and more complicated. It's time for a new start.

The fact that it just so happens to be a new year was not in my plan, it just turned out that way. Though I'm starting to realize timing doesn't just happen. Little by little, day by day, I'm becoming more aware of the patterns in my life, and not just the ones that seem negative. I have a new respect for the way the universe works and the part I play within it. I used to think that because life was so uncertain, it was something to fear. Paralyzed by this notion, I did my best to control every situation before it happened. Attempting to see into the future, I'd play out in my head every possible scenario to prepare for the worst, then I would plan my life accordingly to save myself from pain. Basically, over-thinking everything and making myself (and my nearest and dearest) crazy. Unlike Cassandra, I don't have visions, I can't see past right this second, and I'll never have the answers before they are revealed. That's not how it works and fighting it only hurts.

The upside is that even if that was me literally yesterday, it doesn't have to be me today. I can leave it all behind me. All I have to do is face forward and move on. With every new moment, I can choose to stand still, take a deep breath, and let it go. I can choose to connect myself to the people and world around me, instead of hiding, plotting, and planning. I can go with the flow, focused and energized, rather than putting on my armor and preparing for battle. I can acknowledge my mistakes and learn from them, instead of hanging my head in shame and beating myself up. Nothing gets done that way. It only helps to mask the light that burns inside me, eager to get out and light up the whole damn world! I know I can. I don't know how long it's gonna take. Some days will be easier than others. But I do know I can start right now.

Last Monday, I followed the advice from one of my own past blogs. Instead of waiting for the "picture perfect" new year, I went for my first run since April. Like slipping into a pair of old jeans, I was surprised at how good it felt. I had missed the wind on my face, the sun on my shoulders, and the rocking motion of all the parts of my body working as one to glide me through the air. I even pushed myself to run a bit longer than I planned, not because it was good for me but because I didn't want to stop running. And I never want to stop running. Especially because of how I felt the next morning...and the day after that...and the day after that. All those body parts that had worked together so beautifully, were now super pissed. In thirty minutes, they'd been brought back to life, but instead of thanking me, they raged like Frankenstein terrorizing the tiny villagers in each of my muscle groups. Bittersweet suffering.

So it begins. Sometimes making it through the pain is the only way to get to the joy on the other side. I'm in for a world of hurt and I'm gonna savor every moment. And stretch more.

Start Me Up

Somewhere along the way, I got this idea that if I couldn't do something to perfection, I shouldn't do it. Dumb, I know. I thought if I was intelligent enough to know what perfection was but not capable enough to carry it out, then maybe it wasn't something I was meant to do. This may be the reason I'm not acting, singing, dancing, or writing on a professional level. I have successfully sabotaged myself into becoming a highly skilled restaurant server instead of any of the things I actually want to be. Perhaps this is how critics are born.

It's also the reason why I have NOT begun my next round of P90X for the second week in a row. Instead, I've spent the last two Sundays as though I was on Death Row, eating my last meal before getting strapped to the electric chair that is P90X. The next mornings, Monday mornings, I felt like shit. Literally. My stomach, my head, my body just could not take an hour long Core session with Tony Horton, let alone my first real workout in months. So I gave up. I put it off. "I'll start fresh next Monday, " I told myself. I realize now that this way of thinking is totally hypocritical in relation to this blog.

The truth is I could use a good shock to my system, something to clear away the ice cream, pad thai, pizza, gnocchi, movie theater popcorn (with mystery "topping"), Junior Mints, York Peppermint Patties, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, bacon (oh, the bacon), pancakes, French toast, and mocha lattes I've been consuming since the LA Marathon. Not exactly what you'd call "active recovery." I could blame my habits on any number of things. My co-workers tell me I deserve to eat whatever I want after doing a marathon. "I could never do what you did," they cheer, taking another long drag on their Marlboro Lights. My friends tell me switching jobs and moving to a new apartment are stressful events, and definitely warrant a bit of food indulgence.

I know the real story. It's the same as always. I'm lazy. Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying if I didn't think I could achieve perfection. I wasn't even in the shape I needed to be for the marathon. But I want to be. The desire is still there, however dim the flicker. I know because I went for a walk today. A long one. Not 26.2 miles but it was a start. And it felt really good. The sun beating down on my arms, my furry best friend panting by my side, and the Pacific Ocean stretching out ahead of me, reminding me of the limitless possibilities that still exist in the world. Just because I can't see them, it doesn't mean they aren't there.

I sure am glad to be living here. Now, I'm going to take a deep breath, balance out my crazy, and take my steps one at a time. I already started yesterday by turning down sweets at lunch. Then, after dinner, I had a 100 calorie fudge bar instead of eating directly out of a carton of Mint Chocolate Cookie Crunch ice cream. And today, I walked.

You Can Plan A Pretty Picnic But...

About 24 hours ago, I stumbled into the lobby of the Fairmont Hotel in Santa Monica; mentally and physically exhausted, shivering, soaked to the bone, and completely and utterly humbled. The hotel had become the unofficial sanctuary for the road weary amateur runners of the 2011 LA Marathon, due to the worst weather in marathon history. Not Los Angeles history, marathon history. Torrential rains, winds that ranged between 20 mph and 60 mph, and shin-deep currents that turned the streets of LA into rivers. All around me, runners huddled in corners, wrapped in their mylar race blankets, trying to figure out how they were going to get home. A man on a loud speaker was making an announcement to all marathon participants, asking them to leave, as hotel staff in neatly pressed blue and white uniforms, mopped up puddles left by soggy runners. This is not how I had pictured the end of my first marathon.

Early Sunday morning, I awoke to my 3:30 am alarm, feeling better than I ever have at 3:30 am. I had prepared for this early rise by getting extra sleep the previous couple of nights, so I was well rested. I did some light stretching, put on the clothes I had laid out the night before, and headed out the door. Our timing was perfect and we hopped on a shuttle bus just minutes before departing to the starting line at Dodgers Stadium. All of the sudden, I was frazzled. I hadn't pinned on my race bib yet. I had brought a banana but suddenly was too nervous to eat. The official drawstring gear bag didn't close by itself unless I tied it in a knot. It was all too much. As the bus entered the 10 Freeway going East, my boyfriend, Dave, who had signed up to run with me, looked at me and smiled, "The distance this bus is driving is the same distance we'll be running today." The reality of that statement sank in like a sumo wrestler on a foam mattress, leaving a lasting impression.

The scene at Dodgers Stadium was chaotic, to say the least. Near the front doors, I did my best to stay warm in the chill of the early March morning. I wore layers I could easily part with as I warmed up during my run, while other more experienced runners strutted around in nothing but shorts and tank tops. A group of kids wore bright yellow shirts that read "Students Run LA" and sprayed each other with something that smelled like grandma's house. Middle-aged women wearing pink and purple prepared for the rainy forecast by slipping on their homemade garbage bag rain slickers. A man who looked like he'd just stepped off the set of the "Rocky Horror Picture Show: Riff Raff's Revenge", wore short-shorts, a wife beater, and a plaid dinner jacket with coattails. He carried a silver serving tray, balancing a single wine bottle. On his back was a sign: "Coatman." This was obviously NOT his first marathon.

After finally eating some banana, and asking advice from a couple of the speed walkers (who I'd probably be joining later in the race), Dave and I headed out towards the 11:00 minute mile corral. Choirs sang America the Beautiful and the Star Spangled Banner and I started to get jacked up. The wheelchair racers led the way, followed by the elite women, then the elite men. I couldn't see them but I knew they were there, running the same course as me. One by one, each corral crossed the starting line until the crowd in front of me began moving forward. The MC played the LA sports theme song "I Love LA" and the crowd got hyped. (As a sidenote, making fun of Randy Newman is one of my favorite activities, so I was doubly hyped). It was finally happening! No matter how my knee felt, no matter how cold it was, no matter how much the heavens rained down on me, nothing could stop me from crossing that finish line.

Now, I know what you're thinking and don't panic. Like waking up and trying to recall your dreams, it would be impossible to give you a mile-by-mile replay, not to mention time-consuming, long-winded, and boring for my sweet, loyal seven readers.

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TOP TEN THINGS THAT MADE IT THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE:
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1. Starting out strong with a nice, steady jog

2. Ripping off my bulky, old sweatshirt and tossing it onto a downtown street corner

3. Watching thousands of bobbing heads making their way up the first hill on the empty city streets (the most beautiful thing I've ever seen)

4. Complete strangers, in almost every neighborhood on the route, yelling my name and encouraging me to keep going (If I don't run next year, that will definitely be me!)

5. The light drizzle that hit just as my body started to heat up

6. Advice from barefoot runners about making the switch ("Watch out for hypodermic needles")

7. The drag cheerleaders and male strippers of West Hollywood

8. Not giving up despite ever-growing pain, boredom, and potential hypothermia

9. Volunteers who stood out in the rain to hand out water, Gatorade, and snacks with warm smiles and cheers

10. Dave, who waited for me for over 2 hours in the Starlight Ballroom, with hot tea and blankets

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TOP TEN THINGS THAT MADE IT THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE:
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1. The pain in my right knee that started near Mile 5

2. The reality that I could no longer run at all and still had more than 16 miles ahead of me

3. Watching runners fight over an open port-a-potty

4. Getting passed by people older and fatter than me

5. Silent stretches of road that seemed to last forever

6. Wind and rain that began before I even reached the halfway point, never let up once, and turned into a storm which gave thousands of runners hypothermia and sent 25 of them to the hospital

7. Hands so cold and wet they turned red and shook when I tried to drink water

8. Watching runners collapse and be carried off, unable to finish after they had come so far

9. The last few miles, spent wading through water, while police advised runners to move up onto the sidewalk to reopen the roads of Brentwood

10. Knowing I wouldn't be able get a picture of myself crossing the finish line because I chose not take off the layers of plastic that shielded me from the storm but also covered up my race number

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MY FAVORITE SIGNS ALONG THE ROUTE:
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"You're at Mile 5. The Kenyans are at Mile 15."

"If You Are Losing Faith In Human Nature, Watch A Marathon."

"You're in Brentwood."

"Your vacation is 2.2 miles away."

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NUGGETS OF NEW FOUND WISDOM:
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1. Don't plan on running a marathon with an injury. I know that seems like an obvious, logical piece of advice but I didn't follow it so why should you? There is always another race to conquer and a simple injury can lead to a big one.

2. Train for your long runs using the fuel you'll be using on race day. The combination of nerves and fuel I had never tried before made me take more bathroom stops than a runner should, making my finish time even worse.

3. SMILE! It helps! People see your smiling face and that makes them smile, which can come in handy at around Mile 18 or so.

4. Don't carry a pack full of water. It was a great security blanket for my first time, but it pressed into my stomach, making my cramps worse. There were no long lines for water or snacks at any of the aid stations.

5. Fat can be fit. I saw ladies with big, round kabooses fly past me as I hobbled along. Whatever you did the six months before race day, shows through on race day. It's all about your training.

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MY FINAL THOUGHTS:
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I finished the 2011 LA Marathon in 7 hours, 40 minutes and 49 seconds, and placed 18,873rd out of 19,781 overall runners. But I did it! I participated in my first marathon, I didn't die, and I finished under the worst possible conditions! Any marathon I run will be better than this. I can only get smarter, stronger, and faster. If you're thinking to yourself, "I wonder if I could do a marathon", the answer is YES! Yes you can! If you think you can, then you can. You just keep going, you do whatever it takes to keep moving forward, until you cross that finish line. If I can do it, anyone can do it!

p.s. Don't forget to breathe. I can't stress enough how important is to breathe. It helps you not pass out. Trust me.

Best Laid Plans

LA MARATHON COUNTDOWN: 1 month and 26 days

I woke up today feeling like something was missing. I ate breakfast, walked the dogs, got a coffee...what was I forgetting? Then it came to me. I realized I was so busy with training (and not training), work (and the work I wish I got paid for), and my trip to Michigan for the holidays, that the last time I wrote a blog was...three months ago! To the very day! That's no good. With eight weeks left until the big day (yikes), I vow to blog at least once a week leading up to the actual race on March 20th. For my seven faithful readers, here's an update on my training (using the 18 Week FIRST Marathon Plan) to get you up to speed.

For those of you unfamiliar with the FIRST Method, the basic idea is that you run only three days a week, at a pace related to your 10K time. This way, you won't wear out your legs before marathon day, but the pace ensures that every workout counts. Since I've never run a 10K, I decided to base my pacing on the time I'd like to finish the marathon; four hours. I had heard from other runners that the magical four hour time was what separated "real" runners from "enthusiasts". As I mentioned in October, all my research suggests a runner should have at least one year of running three to four times a week before attempting their first marathon. Not me. I'm a dreamer, a go-getter full of unrealistic passion.

I started tracking my progress only 6 weeks before officially starting the FIRST Method Training Program. In addition to your running days, the program includes two days of cross training and at least one rest day. Due to my unhealthy love of Tony Horton, I chose to use P90X workouts to cross train. This would've been a great idea, had I eased them into my running training. Instead, I jumped into both full force, injuring myself in the first week, which kept me from running the second week. Though I kept up with my two P90X workouts, I ran only once during weeks three and four, stopped cross training during the fourth week, and by week five and six, I had completely stopped training. As usual, I bit off more than I could chew. Classic Briana.

With 16 weeks to go, and two weeks of the FIRST Plan already behind me, it was "now-or-never, do-or-die" time. Mother Nature, on the other hand, felt differently and blessed me with my monthly womanly gift. Yeah. Awesome timing. I was quickly discovering what I was made of; excuses. I mustered enough strength to do one workout on the treadmill, a sweaty and satisfying Interval session. But the following week, I did nothing. I was starting to see my pattern and it wasn't pretty. I was disappointed, disheartened, and depressed. But you know what's good for depression? EXERCISE! It took me until Thursday of that week but I did a great five mile Tempo run, then on Sunday I ran my longest run to date; seven miles!

With 13 weeks to go, I packed up and headed to Michigan to celebrate Christmas with my family. I was equal parts excited and scared, since sticking to a training plan while traveling has been difficult for me in the past. I wasn't gonna let that happen on this trip. Running outside in 30 degree weather was out of the question, of course. My mom has a treadmill in her house, and I'm still chained to Bally's Fitness Centers thanks to my never ending membership, so there would be no reason not to run.

My mom and stepdad were super supportive and let me take over their living room for a 40 minute Interval run. Afterwards, they even asked me questions about why I had been motivated to run a marathon. Not only did I feel loved, it gave me an opportunity to reinforce my goal, just as this blog is allowing me to reevaluate my progress thus far. I told them how I wanted to challenge myself by setting a big goal, something that would show me what I'm really made of. This led to a conversation about their fitness goals. They've both been inspired by my journey over the last couple of years, from P90X to Insanity to running a marathon. That's when I realized that pushing myself really had set an example for my loved ones, and that reason felt better than any other to keep moving forward.

Just when things were finally looking up and feeling good, I had another set back. My monthly gift arrived again, giving my resolve a run for it's money. This time, instead of backing off, I pushed myself even harder. I wasn't going to let Mother Nature drag me down again. Unfortunately, giving it my all only got me halfway through what was supposed to be a ten mile long run. My body was weak, cramping, and more dehydrated than normal. I guess it's just as important to know when to stop and rest because two days later, my immune system was shot; sore throat, dry eyes, and full body aches. I was heading back to LA with a good old fashioned Michigan cold, one that stuck with me for three long weeks.

Which brings us to the past few weeks. It took me almost two weeks to feel well enough to run again. When I did, I found out I hadn't actually lost that much progress. My body wasn't ready to push forward, and this time I listened. I tried not to think about how much further I "should" be in my training. I just drank lots of water, laced up my shoes, and did the best I could, averaging about 10 miles a week. This past week, I added a pilates class to my training, with the hope that it will help strengthen my hip flexors and core. It was a killer workout and I'm interested to see how pilates will help shape my body and effect my running.

That's what this journey is all about, testing my body and finding out what I'm capable of. I don't know how long it will take me to cross that Santa Monica finish line. Five hours? Six hours? I sure hope not. My new goals are to do my best, each and every training day, to finish my first marathon, all 26.2 miles, in an upright position, and to try not to die.

Stop The Insanity, Bring On The Miles

I no longer hate Shaun T. but I did have to stop the Insanity program, for a few reasons. About two weeks ago, I started to feel a dull pain in my right leg, from my ankle to my knee, similar to shin splints. I pressed on anyway. A few days later, I felt sharp pain in my ankle and had to bench myself for a week. Of course, it probably wasn't smart to workout on the concrete floors in my apartment. Then, I looked at my countdown calendar and realized I had 5 months and 3 days until the LA Marathon. My path was clear. I had to ditch the last two weeks of Insanity in order to establish a run base of at least a month before beginning my marathon training program.

On Monday, I officially began training for my first marathon! Everything I've read, all my research suggests a first time marathoner should have at least one year of running three or four times a week under their belt. I'll have 4 or 5 weeks. So...my goal (for the time being) is simply to finish the race. I'm going to train smart, eat well, and avoid injury so I can show up bright and obnoxiously early on March 20th at the starting line at Dodger Stadium. I'm going to listen to my body and let it guide me. If I feel strong during a run and want to go faster, I will. If a joint or muscle starts acting up, I'll back off. I'm going to treat this whole experience with the patience and planning that a first time event requires.

Which also means getting good advice. Don't be stingy, runners. If you have pointers on anything from rest days to race day, please let me know! I'm like a sponge sucking up all the information I can to be the best runner I can be. I've subscribed to Runner's World magazine. I purchased my first two beginning pairs of running shoes so I can alternate and make them last. I'm cross training my core and upper body to build a strong form, as well as doing plenty of stretching and yoga. I still need to gather a hydration belt for long runs, moisture-wicking socks so my feet don't get nasty, gels and fuel for long runs, sport sunglasses to protect my sensitive eyes, and a bucket for ice baths in case of injury.

I'm so excited to test myself physically and see what I'm made of, not only on race day but every day. Every time I speed up, I'll be running faster than ever. Every long run will be my longest run ever. Every time I keep going, I'll be pushing myself just a bit further than I ever have before. I have months of "firsts" ahead of me, hundreds of baby steps until the day I take home my first finisher's medal, and of course, the coveted race day t-shirt. With every run I can feel myself becoming the person I want to be; strong, grounded, successful, and happy. And very, very sweaty.

To Do and Die

It's been a month since I blogged and I realize now it's been exactly one month since I started the Insanity program. I'm so beat after these workouts that I can't even think about writing about it. I don't want to do anything but drink a protein shake and hop in the shower to get back to neutral. It's brutal. BUT...an hour later I feel amazing and when I don't workout, I feel like crap. There's only one problem; I hate Shaun T.

It's not personal. I've never even met him. It's just that his Insanity workouts are consistently more difficult than anything I've ever physically done in my life. Ever. It's the kind of non-stop cardiovascular workout that forces you to stop periodically, just so you can catch your breath and not die. Sweat seeps onto my skin from every pore. EVERY PORE! The back of my neck, my forehead, my upper lip, my arms, my legs! MY LEGS! When was the last time you ran your finger across your shin and it was covered in sweat? That has happened to me during every single workout in the Insanity program, and that's just the warmup.

I do miss Tony Horton. When I did P90X, I really felt like I was working my entire body each week. Also, it was harder for my brain to get bored because every day was a different workout. I've definitely skipped some Insanity workouts simply because I couldn't bare to do another day of cardio. I miss fun workouts like Kenpo, or the grounded, balanced feeling I get after doing Yoga. Six days a week of cardio? Ugh. What I will say for Insanity is it works, and fast. I sat down yesterday to figure out exactly how many workouts I skipped during the first month of Insanity, and which workouts I actually completed. It turns out I did just over half of the workouts and I still lost about 5 lbs. Imagine the shape I'd be in if I'd done all the workouts?

So my new goal is to complete all of the workouts in the second half. No excuses, except injury, of course. If I need a minute to get some water or catch my breath, I'll pause, but no skipping. The lesson I'm learning is that these workouts are too hard to give up or do the program half-assed. I'm wasting my time if I don't give it all I've got. Just one more month! 24 more workouts and then, if I still hate Shaun T., I'll never do Insanity again. Though I have a feeling that if I commit to working harder each time, I'm gonna end up loving my body...and then I'll love Shaun T.

This'll Be The Day That I Die

It was just another Sunday night. Ice cream bars and late night network television. One more night I swore I would go to sleep at a reasonable hour, waking up early the next morning, a Monday morning, to start the week right. Yet there I was on the couch, watching American Chopper thinking, "I'll go to bed as soon as this episode is done. I want to see them finish this bike." Just when I thought I was out of excuses to go to bed, the infomercials began.

Anyone who grew up with me knows I'm a night owl and I LOVE infomercials. I've owned the Clapper, the Swiffer, the Sham-Wow, the Blendtec, and the Forman Grill all because I saw them on TV. I've even shopped in the As Seen On TV store, which is awesome, by the way. I thought getting sucked into infomercials was a thing of the past. Since I gave up my cable (and currently have only six channels), infomercials are once again my only option after 2 am. But this was no ordinary infomercial. This was INSANITY.

Just like P90X, I had heard of Insanity but I didn't really know what the routines were like. The host and creator, Shaun T, didn't seem all that special. How do you best Tony Horton? The man is a superstar, changing lives across this great nation of ours, and whipping our soldiers into tip top shape. The answer became clear almost instantly. Three words; Non Stop Cardio. Every workout had "cardio" in the title. Hmm. I do like the variety of P90X. It works all your muscle groups every week. On the other hand, the Insanity workouts are shorter, and cardio is the best way to melt all that fat. I was starting to get sucked in. P90X: six days a week for 90 days. Insanity: five days a week for 60 days. Well, well, well. Insanity promises a shorter program with shorter routines, less days a week, less equipment, and the same killer results. Let's face it, it's mostly about what you eat, anyway. Alright...SOLD!

The key to Insanity is longer periods of high intensity and shorter periods of rest. I watched the clips of people leaving puddles of sweat on the gym floor beneath them. I think we already established in my last blog how much I love to sweat. I was starting to get psyched! But was I fit enough for such a non-stop workout at such high intensity? "Maybe I should just finish this round of P90X, train for marathon, and worry about Intensity next year." But it was too late. The challenge had been extended through this infectious late night paid advertisement. I was curious to see what I was really made of.

Today. August 30th. Day 1 of Insanity. On the first day you take the Fit Test so you can track your progress. "Fit Test? You mean, I don't even workout on Day 1. Great! Sounds easy." I watched it once to get a feel for the routine. "It wasn't even 30 minutes long. Piece of cake. Wait, why is that guy sweating so much during a simple fitness test? That seems odd. And that girl is moving fast but she doesn't have the best form." I was certain that my technique would be stellar in comparison, even though that girl looked fit as a fiddle. I was wrong.

I've never worked harder in my life. After the first minute, my lungs were burning and I was gasping for air. I had vastly underestimated this program. By the end of this "simple" Fit Test, I felt as though I might vomit if I had to do one more move. Even now, I still feel "off." As Ron Burgundy would say, I immediately regret this decision. I don't know if I'll survive these next sixty days but there's no turning back now. Reality has set in, I am waaaaaay out of shape, but I've made up my mind. I took my "Before" picture. I've figured out my meal plan. I've picked out a white coat and I'm choosing Insanity.