For The Haters

It turns out not everyone is excited for my marathon goal. This past week, I ran into my first Negative Nancy who called me crazy for wanting to run 26.2 miles. What could possibly be the purpose of this insane, useless feat? At first, I was shocked. I'm sure many people have had this same negative reaction but they kept it to themselves. Of course, I prefer my friend's honesty over a polite smile-and-nod. I guess I expected the same cheerful, positive, and supportive response I'd been getting since I signed up for the LA Marathon a couple of weeks ago. Then I remembered how I used to feel about long distance running. The old Briana was the mayor of Downer Town. It's all about perspective.

Which is why I immediately headed to the nearest Barnes & Noble for a third dose of running Inspiration. Where would I find more books on running? Hmm...biographies, perhaps? Those are mostly of political figures or old, alcoholic movie stars. Oh, maybe Health & Fitness. Nope. Just rows of books dedicated to the latest fad diet or "dance yourself thin" book, complete with DVD and inflatable balance ball. Where the F were all the running books? Was "Born To Run" a fluke? Something I found out about only through watching the Daily Show? Finally, my journey was complete. A section never before perused by a former Miss Understood Teen USA; the Sports section. Riiiiight. Running is a sport. Of course.

I scanned the shelves for the best possible purchase. One book was endorsed by some running association, another book written by the former editor of this running magazine. Two books both claimed to be the Complete guide to running for Women; how would I choose? That's when I saw "50/50". The guy on the cover was NOT smiling in a sun-lit color-coordinated outfit, wind blowing through his hair. He was a real guy running a real race. Fifty real races, actually. Dean Karnazes had a dream. To run fifty marathons in fifty states...in fifty days. It sounded absolutely nuts! There had to be a catch of some kind. I didn't recall anyone with that name dying recently so maybe he had actually accomplished his insane goal. His dream became a reality and then he wrote a book about it. I just HAD to read it.

It's an amazing story of an average guy who just happens to be in the kind of shape where he runs 26 or 27 miles both Saturday and Sunday, every weekend, as his normal workout. He'd already run two hundred miles in one run and every year he runs a 100 mile race in extreme environments. No biggie. He also started a foundation called Karno's Kids, with the goal of teaching kids the value of running in order to fight child obesity, an enormous epidemic among America's kids (pun intended). As I read the stories of teacher's across the country following his Endurance 50 races, building lesson plans for their students, and the runner's who were inspired to drive hours to run in the Endurance 50 marathon closest to their hometowns, it became more difficult to keep my eyes from gettin' all misty.

It was Chapter Six, United We Run, that I found the inspiration I was looking for.

"I love to interact with people when they are most exposed -- when every layer of pretension and vanity has been stripped away and left strewn along the pathway. The marathon mercilessly rips off the outer layers of our defenses and leaves the raw human, vulnerable and naked. It is here you get an honest glimpse into the soul of an individual. Every insecurity and character flaw is open and on display for all the world to see. No communication is ever more real, no expression ever more honest. There is nothing left to hide behind. The marathon is the great equalizer. Every movement, every word spoken and unspoken, is radiant truth. The veil has been obliterated. These are the profound moments of human interaction that I live for."

THIS is why I want to run. Sure, I could toil away on the treadmill for the rest of my life, like a good little hamster, until all my fat melted away. Or I could run like I mean it. Isn't the choice obvious? I guess if you're naturally thin, exercise doesn't even occur to you. But when you've lived life a bit harder, tried whatever was put in front of you, and came out the other side lazy and lumpy, the time comes to step it up a notch. Get back to basics. And other cliches that only exist because they are true. That's what I want. Radiant truth. My starting line? Dodger Stadium, March 20th, 2011. I invite all the Negative Neils and Debbie Downers to come on down and see what they are made of. Or maybe you already know and don't need a marathon to show you the way. If so, you're lucky. I'm only at the beginning of my journey. And I won't stop until I'm living my life with honesty, stripped of my vanities, for all the world to see.

I want YOU to run the LA Marathon!!!

It turns out I'm a recruiter and I didn't even know it. Once I set my new goal, to run the LA Marathon, I figured the best way to commit to my goal was to talk about it. So I wrote a blog, I posted it on Facebook, and I started mentioning it to guests and co-workers at my restaurant job. Suddenly, people want to run with me! Maybe they figure if Briana can do it, they can do it. Maybe they didn't even realize they wanted that kind of challenge until they had a buddy to run with! Or maybe they want a bit of that feeling I seem to get, the light that shines in my eyes, when I talk about crossing the finish line and plunging my feet into the ocean.

If my running buddies actually sign up and commit to the marathon, I'll be running in a pack of five, which will make my goal five times more fun! If we all show up, I don't think I'll care about my finish time at all. I'll just be happy to be running with a pack, enjoy the experience of knowing that no matter how tired I become, I'm not alone. I can't wait! Doesn't it sound awesome? There's still time to join, ya know. It's not until March so there's plenty of time to train...and no limit to how big the pack can become! It could be the best $145 you'll ever spend!

CLICK HERE to register for the 2011 LA Marathon!!!

It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be...

Born To Run

We are all born to run, or at least we were. Men, women, and children all had their place in the pack. Why waste time bringing the meat back to the caves? Everyone was an endurance runner. There were front runners, men & women with the greatest tracking skills. Behind them, the women with babies strapped to their backs. Next were the children, followed by the pregnant women who couldn't run as fast. Finally, the strongest men, saving their strength for the kill, ran with the elders close behind. It wasn't just about the hunt, it was also about being together, sharing the run. That's exactly what I plan on doing! Two days ago, I registered to run the 2011 LA Marathon, my first marathon, and find my place in the pack. My goal is to run the marathon in under 4 hours. My plan is to train for four months, with at least one extra month of jogging beforehand to establish a base, and then enjoy the race no matter what my finish time. My objective? To discover what I'm truly made of.

When I entered high school, I was the fastest female sprinter in my class. Just like Ricky Bobby, I loved to go fast. When it came time to run the mile, I didn't. I walked most of it, with the occasional jog to make it look like I gave a shit, finishing in just over 12 minutes. My classmates mockingly clapped and cheered as me and the fat kid crossed the finish line, my middle fingers held proudly in the air. I was already the best at running short distances, so what did I care about running a mile? If the day ever comes, I thought, when I'd need to travel a mile on foot, I was certain there would be no time limit involved. I'd be just fine walking along, checking out the scenery, spending some quality time with my ever-changing, self-important teenage thoughts and feelings. My motto; I don't run unless I'm being chased.

Cut to present day. I'm 31 years old, 5'3", 138 lbs., and I have 28% body fat. That's no good. I'm definitely not fit but I'm SUPER lazy. Unless I get a lot smarter, so as to build myself a time machine or discover the Fountain of Youth, I'm not getting younger. I'm not "overweight"...yet, but I'm pushing the limit. The way I see it, I might as well push the limit the other way and see how active and fit I can be. When I was younger, I thought myself invincible (as many teenagers do). "I have all the time in the world," I'd say to anyone who thought they knew better (read: had any life experience whatsoever). Well, time's up. I'm just like everybody else, sitting on the couch, in front of the TV, at my computer, putting it off, waiting for the magic to arrive. Except there is no magic, only hard work and sweat.

Luckily, I did get a bit o' magic in the form of inspiration. Inspiration Part 1; a book called Born To Run, written by Christopher McDougall, an injured runner looking for a new way to run without killing himself. The book is not only an inspiration to runners. It's full of amazing stories of human beings, just like you and me, using their willpower to perform acts of superhuman proportions. Or they are just plain crazy. But mostly they just work hard, kick ass, and have fun! That's what's missing...FUN! I forgot how fun running could be, like when I was a kid.

Imagine running a 50 mile race in one day. Now imagine most of it is trails and rocky mountain terrain. Now imagine running 100 miles. In one day, in one race. Through Death Valley. In temperatures over 130 degrees. Wearing sandals and a big ol' smile. INsane. Yes, there are runners who take pictures and do interviews. Nothing in America is publicity stunt free. Then there are stories of people who just can't live without the wind rushing through their hair. They run because standing still would drive them crazy. If they stop, they'll get stale. That's the kind of person I could be, except I've been living without it. I've allowed myself to get stale and now I'm gonna do something about it.

Inspiration Part 2; the plan. Another book by David Kuehls (marathon runner and contributing editor for Runner's World) called 4 Months to a 4-Hour Marathon. I usually don't like it when the author keeps repeating things for effect but...Oprah ran her first marathon in 4 hours. I repeat: Oprah. Marathon. 4 Hours. That's awesome. I can't argue with Kuehls; Oprah is not, I repeat, NOT a fitness role model. But when Oprah puts her mind to something, well, you know. Talk Show, Movies, Dr. Phil's Talk Show, Book Club, Magazine, EMPIRE! I'm not saying I have Oprah's willpower (unless we're talking about chocolate cake), but maybe I do...when it comes to running. Maybe I can when it comes to living. All I know is I'd rather get up off my 28% fat ass and find out. When I do, I'm pretty sure it'll end up being the best thing I've ever done for myself. And that Matthew Sweet song starts playing in my head, "...you come to love what you used to hate, you come to find what you threw away."

All the Right Reasons

I'm not who I want to be. I'm not as productive, proactive, or any other positive "P" word I can think of, as I'd like. Too often, I procrastinate, ponder, pine, piss & moan, panic, and many other negative "P" words I can't think of right this second. What I don't think to remind myself on a daily basis is I can change. I'm human and have the ability to change, to teach myself a new routine. I'm lucky enough to have been born in America, to working class parents, making it possible for me to, well, make things possible. It takes work, that's all. Not that work isn't hard but it's supposed to be hard. To quote my favorite fictional baseball coach, "...the hard is what makes it great." I think that must be true in life. Things that are truly valued the most are those we earn. That being said, I'm turning myself into an athlete.

Now that you've stopped laughing, I'll say it again, with conviction. I'M TURNING MYSELF INTO AN ATHLETE! I'm not entering the Olympics or anything, but it's not totally out of left field either. It's actually a long time coming. I've been an athlete quite a few times in my life. When I was five years old, I played T-ball, until I got hit in the gut with a ball. In grade school, I played Soccer, Volleyball, and was even a Cheerleader. In high school, I trained as a sprinter with the Track team, until shin splints and dance classes cut my career short. Many forms of dance require stamina, strength, and flexibility. It's been ten long years since I was a trained dancer. I have a tennis racket that's been collecting dust in my closet for more than two years. It's been one year this week since I started P90X the first time. The time is now.

Recently, I was speaking to a friend about my problem, and they asked me to recall the last time I was happy. I thought this was a rather loaded, complicated question. Instead of retreating, or glossing over it with some quip or joke, I gave it my proper attention. When was the last time I felt truly proud to be me? My answer? 1996. My Senior year of high school. Why? Because I was doing absolutely everything I loved. Somehow, I was never too busy to do the things that moved me the most. I lived with passion! Singing, dancing, acting, constantly learning and growing, never stopping to ask myself if I had enough time. I MADE time. I got it done. If someone didn't understand or wasn't on board, that was their problem. I was confident and creative 100% of the time.

That was me. It's in me. I can be that way again. I have to do it or risk spending the rest of my life a walking sob story, talking about "the good old days, when I had all that potential." Hell no! Not me. I'll risk small failures over the BIG ONE every day of the week. It started yesterday when I started P90X. It felt great! Today was another sweaty success, and so will tomorrow be. And Thursday. And every day for the next 13 weeks until the P90X program is complete. When that's done, I think I'll head to the beach and try to pick up a volleyball game. Maybe I'll dust off that tennis racket, take a dance class, or start running. Who knows? The LA Marathon isn't until March...and if I'm not a great athlete that's okay. At least I'm trying. It's better than growing old and getting stale. No risk, no reward. I think Steve Guttenberg said that.

You Are What You Eat

Someone in the 80's said it on TV and I'll never forget it. I think it was a commercial and there was some dancing fruit involved. Regardless, it is true.

Less than two weeks ago, I started P90X again. I'm not on the meal plan but I am changing my diet. I use an iPhone app called Tap & Track. I set a goal for myself and then I keep track of all the food I eat daily; calories, fat, protein, carbs, sugar, sodium, all the normal nutritional info. It's not has hard as it sounds. I actual enjoy being aware of what I eat until I get used to it and can do it myself. Also, I avoid spending money on meals (and being too lazy to cook) by forcing myself to eat at home.

Back to exercise, I started last week and all was well. I was doing P90X, sweating, working hard, and feeling great. Then, I missed Friday's workout. I told myself it was okay. I would just workout on Sunday, my normal day of rest. Then, Saturday came and I was REALLY tired. I couldn't figure out why. I usually work late on Fridays. What was so special about this day...my period. It hit hard, just as I was starting my shift that Saturday night. And I gave into it. Again.

I just couldn't fight through it. And it led right into the beginning of this week. Now I'm free and clear, emotional roller coaster behind me. But it's Saturday and I didn't work out ALL WEEK! Yikes. This round of P90X is off to a rocky start, to say the least. 4 out 12 workouts completed is not good. This morning, I stepped on the scale to try and motivate myself into jumping back into my exercise routine. I usually weigh in on Mondays but...well, you know how I feel about procrastinating. It's delicious but unhealthy, just like donuts. And ice cream. I'm derailing...

The point is I've lost 3 lbs in less than two weeks!!! That's faster than I lost at the beginning of last year's P90X. And it's all about my diet. I lowered my calories, ate smaller portions throughout the day, cut down on late night eating, and it's paying off. Monday morning, I will of course get back to P90X but I'm not STARTING OVER. That's not how life works. I'm gonna just jump back in, do my best, and forget the rest, Tony Horton style. And continue to remind myself that as delicious as Ben & Jerry is, I don't want to be ice cream. I want to be lean, green, and full of protein. Hmm. That sounded less sexual in my head.

Mama Said, Mama Said

I feel as though I've spent much of life trying to figure out what I am so that I could be it, instead of just being myself and not worrying about the what that is. I've been a joint custody kid of divorce, a tomboy, a cheerleader, a Catholic schoolgirl, an altar girl, a choir girl, a ballerina, an outsider, a troublemaker, a bookworm, a rebel, a soloist, an actress, an sprinter, a dork, an instigator, an A student, an F student, a curious teen, a first love, a heart breaker, a triple threat, a slut, a follower, a leader, a spoiled brat, a role model, a crusader, a wallflower, the life of the party, a fuck-up, a shaman, a shoulder to cry on, a mess on your living room couch, an inspiration, a lost soul, a pain in the ass, a know-it-all, and a true friend. The sappy, after-school special truth is that I'm all of these things.

Smoking cigarettes doesn't make me. Doing Yoga doesn't make me. I am. All I have to do is be. But I have to ACTUALLY be. I can't just think about it, talk about it, or blog about it. I have to DO it. So today's word to live by is ACTION. When I think of something, I'm going to act on it instead of writing myself a note or putting it off until later. Which is why I'm writing this now as I think of it. Besides, I'm only doing what my mother told me to do. When I was 23, I called my mother and told her that I had decided to change my career path and I was planning on being a writer. Of course, we'd had this conversation before. There are many creative pursuits I'm interested in, I have had quite a few talents, but I never focused on just one long enough to become truly great at anything.

First, I was going to be on Broadway in musicals, then I discovered Shakespeare and poetry, then modern dance and choreography, soon after I wanted to be a Jazz singer...when it came time to choose a college, I went back to Musical Theatre because it encompassed so my three main loves; acting, singing, and dancing. When I moved to New York, I quickly became bored and just wanted to live life, which meant quitting everything and starting from scratch, at which point I decided to become a musician (read: Rock Star). When my boyfriend and I broke up, so did the band and my discipline for music. I was writing a lot, though. Constantly. Every day. At work, on the subway, in the park, while I ate, in bed, everywhere. Because that's what you do when you're lonely. If I didn't let it all out, I knew I'd end up a crazy person, wandering the streets of New York, muttering to myself and occasionally screaming at small animals and children.

One day, in a haze of smoke, I called my mother with this brilliant revelation; I was writing all the time so maybe I should be a writer. Usually she would argue with me about my first love, acting, because she was certain that was my strongest talent. Then, she'd mention her thoughts about me one day ending up a director or choreographer, you know, in the later part of my career. This time, her response was different. She sighed a heavy sigh and said, "Fine. You're a writer. Now write." I was astonished, certain that there was a big "but" waiting around the corner of her next sentence. "What?," I replied. "Oh, just pick something and do it," she said. "Anything. But just do it!." She was tired of me coasting through life. Of course, she wanted me to find my passion but...I had a lot of passion for a lot of different things, for life. She wanted me to take that passion and turn it into ACTION.

So I did. I found a class with an amazing poet and mentor, Laurie Wagner Buyer. She taught me how to write without censoring myself, how to rewrite the babble, and how to step away from something so it doesn't get "overwritten." She taught me not only was it okay to write in my own voice, but it was imperative in order to tell my own stories. I still have some of my old passions, and a few new ones, but I never stopped writing. Writing led me to film, and back to acting, and that's why I'm here in LA. Thanks to those two extraordinary, patient, and sometimes pushy women, I'm still writing and I'll always be writing. Now, if I only get to those dishes. And that pile of laundry. Maybe I should call my mom.

It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to BE!!!

Bend Before I Break

I literally rolled out of bed today, for fear that putting too much pressure on any one body part would result in not only great pain, but more embarrassingly, me groaning like an old lady. Today on the P90X schedule is Shoulders & Arms, followed by Ab Ripper. As soon as I stood up, I knew that wasn't going to happen. The days of skipping workouts are behind me but I don't want to overdo it so I opted for the Stretch program. It's a thorough hour long program and the key to maintaining progress.

When I was younger, I prided myself on my flexibility. I used to practice my center splits every night while watching television. I'd spread my legs, put my elbows in front of me on the floor, and rest my chin in my hands. I knew that every day that I didn't stretch, I would lose flexibility. I worked on it as often as any of my studies. Looking back, I realize now that I never had any substantial injuries until I stopped stretching every day. When I went to college, there were too many "distractions." After one year without daily stretching, apart from the stretching I did in dance classes, I injured both my knees.

To this day, I have knee pain whenever I jog or run outdoors, or if I stand up for too many hours at a time. I must add daily stretching to my routine now, not only to maintain the progress I make during P90X, but to ward off future injury as I get older and my body continues to break down. So I didn't do today's workout, but I gave myself an "A" for effort for stretching instead of giving up. It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to bend before it breaks.