Erin Go Run

The ambiguity of this blog is set up for a reason. Please be advised and when you see “…” please whisper to yourself that’s what she said… On that note:

The first time is always awkward. And of course, you are never prepared. Everyone knows how it’s going to turn out, and what stories can possibly develop from it. You just want to get in, get out… and see ya later.

I was a little sweaty; mostly hot and bothered though. I had my change of clothes with me; I was here for business- no pleasure. I didn’t exactly pack anything else; I figured it would all work itself out…

When I walked in with my bag, I had to figure out a place to put my stuff. I looked around with my bag, timid and shy, almost giggling to myself to break the silence. I wasn’t quite sure where I was going to place my bag. It’s strategic. Too far away, you have a long time and distance to walk embarrassed back to your stuff. Too close, it gets in the way. You have to be prepared to gather your things if you somehow get walked in on, but it needs to be far enough away that nothing gets “soiled” in the process. I set my bag down, and seriously contemplated if I was even going to go through with this. I felt pretty dirty, but was I that dirty?

I had cold feet, I will admit. Just the thought of my nakedness being so close to my work environment; how would you feel? It is hard to deal with the lack of eye contact you don’t make once back in the office, the constant blushing, the anxiety that you are being talked about at the water cooler when you re not there. It’s hell, and it could be avoided. But, oh the sweat…

First things first, you have to check for cobwebs. You don’t know the last time it was ever used. There could be things crawling around that you forgot about. (When I finished, I found spiders… I know; exacerbates the awkwardness). OK, back to the beginning though. Foreplay. You gotta make sure its set up just right. Bottles are handy, testing the waters to make sure it’s just right…. It won’t be, you know that, right?

Trying to heat things up is NOT a smooth move the first time. It’s all cold and gives you the chills, so you barely want to get wet. You fiddle with the valves but damn it, still cold. You stand there naked, halfway in because it’s not hot enough yet, eff, it’s not even getting warm. Fiddle this, fiddle that… bam! holey moley!! Burn! Somehow the pressure hit just the right spot and yikes! Now it’s too hot. Oh well, it will have to suffice; remember, its business.

Keeping this as clean as possible, I will yadda yadda over some stuff…

The worst part is when you are finished with everything and you think you are gradually cooling down again, lowering the pressure. But remember how it went straight from freezing cold to scalding with no warning? Well, just like that, the cooling off has the same effect, except when you escape the scalding, you get the last bit of pressure released right into your face as you are reaching to turn everything off. You don’t expect it because you are not thinking about it, but one word of advice- close your eyes!
I didn’t have a towel afterwards, so the wetness had to be endured on my body so uncomfortably as I scrambled to find any old thing to wipe off the excess. Then, covering what I could with what I had, I managed to get all my clothes on in record time, as if everyone in the office was watching me. I had no makeup, no brush; it was going to be like the walk of shame all over again. At least this time I could spend the walk back drying off instead of remembering what happened. I had nothing to hide this time. People would see my ruffled hair and smeared makeup… it was going to be talked about. So I packed all my stuff back up, took one last look around to make sure it was as I had come in (save for the cobwebs) and I snuck out; closing the door as gently as I could so as not to disturb anyone. Walking back, I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking it would cover up the evidence. But, it didn’t work with my mom, it wouldn’t work here. I had left my shoes on the entire time and they were all I had, so it made me uncomfortable for the rest of the day having to remember the experience every time I took a step. Next time there won’t be any surprises.

I am in the process of working on a post about my weak moments in my last race, the La Jolla Half Marathon, but until that is done here are a couple of inspiring and tragic stories. The first is about the one and only Ryan Hall. He seems impenetrable, but even he has had weak moments along the way. The second one is the sad story of Ryan Shay. He has inspired all of us, and continues to; this is his wife’s story. Makes anyone proud to be in the running community.

Running after you win the March Madness work bracket pool is like running on thin air. You feel no pain, you are smiling for once in your life, and you feel unstoppable. There is a very different feeling that you get after such a victory; kind of like winning a race, but you aren’t as worn out because you didn’t have to play in the tournament to win.

I ran like I have never run on little sleep and no food energy. It was a great feeling, and the whole time I was motivated because instead of telling myself that I was running to that refreshing Gatorade I was running to a pot of money. Go Kansas!

You don’t have to win to run well. Sometimes all you need is a little confidence and something to distract you. J

This is a story about a woman in Philadelphia who started a running group to get people “back on track.”

 Inspiring, really….and worth a read (that isn’t my blog)…

http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/04/02/heroes.mahlum/index.html

Kristen and I had every intention of making it a calm evening. She had texted me earlier in the day needing some best friend advice, and being the best friend, I gladly obligated myself to aid and console her worries and woes. After a wonderful and enriching Bible class, we walked outside in the beautiful dusk-filled parking lot, discussing the readings and the lessons from the class that were fresh in our minds. Still smelling of the Sacramental ash, and with the Holy water still damp on our foreheads, we decide to meet at Chili’s for a virgin margarita (I had to drive home). She was still worried about whether her happiness would be fulfilled, but I had no doubt that she would somehow find the light and the path back to a peaceful life.

Arriving at Chili’s, we sat at a quiet booth, where we thought we would be clear of the riff raff and the weekday drinkers. After all, we did not want our Bibles and cardigan sweaters to be destroyed by Godless sinners that don’t follow the Word of God everyday Sunday like a true Catholic (wink). There were two other tables of people, one table considerably loud for the size of the room (and for a Tuesday night in Temecula at that). Making our order, I hesitated to order the Awesome Blossom, as Kristen kindly pointed out that it contained over 2,000 calories. She must have known that I am trying to watch my figure and was there to encourage me away from the empty calories. I thought for a moment, and ordered them shyly- blushing the whole time. When the server left the table to get our order we were able to laugh together when I reassured her that some of the 2,000 calories were unsaturated fat since the onion is fried in oil (if it’s clear at room temperature, its unsaturated) which means that those calories would not necessarily show in our legs and thighs (of course, we’d have to run a marathon directly after for this to be true). Being the best friend that she is, she happily offered to help me eat the blossom. Neither of us being too extremely hungry- who would be after the fulfillment you get at church- became even more comfortable with the order knowing that we could never finish the entire Awesome Blossom; so that is even fewer calories to discount. Being a running blog, I should say that I earned the blossom calories. I had run, twice in fact, and burned well over the amount of calories which I had consumed earlier.

In the midst of our conversation, Kristen quietly whispered that one of the tables was a bit loud. Of course, there was nothing that we were able to do about it, so decided to continue on in our conversation. This got to be rather difficult as they continued to increase their volume and alcohol consumption. Occasionally the server would walk over and chat with them, causing us to insinuate a friendship among the parties.
Luckily just as we settled Kristen’s angst and enjoyed a toast to her future peace, we overheard an older woman at the loud table shouting some derogatory and inappropriate four letter words to the other table in the bar. Kristen and I looked squeamishly at each other and realized that the Sacramental ash was no longer in the air that night……

….The loud hag kept bitching at- we’ll call her Ed Hardy for her clothing choices that night- about being loud. It went back and forth, louder and louder, “You are being f***ing loud!” “Don’t f***ing look at me!” “Turn the f*** around!” “Leave the f***ing bar!” and so on and so on…..
A lot of comments were shouted back and forth about leaving the bar, being loud, being old, being fake, being, loud, and being old. Eventually, Ed Hardy girl shouted, “Listen you old b****. I could kick your ass, so why don’t you mid your own f****ing business and turn the f*** around and quiet down” which got the response, “You can just leave the bar. I am not old. C’mon, let’s take it outside, b****. Just leave the f***ing bar” etc. etc. The funniest part up to this point is when the old lady shouted that she was not old, a younger girl at the table began shouting “Mom, shut the f*** up. Stop it” HAHAHA. If that doesn’t make you feel old, lady, maybe Ed Hardy’s fake perky boobs would.

One of the bus boys had come over at this point and tried to get in the middle to break it up, but he was just a small Asian boy and quickly got knocked out of the way.  Finally, when Ed Hardy laughed and sneered her nose at the old lady, MOM- we’ll call her- stood up making her look even older with saggy boobs and varicose veins, and walked over to Ed Hardy. She had an empty pint glass in her hand full of ice and melted booze leftovers, and had she not turned her back to me I could be more detailed here, but once I got a visual, it was of two arms going up, one with the glass and the other defending her fake boobs from that glass….

… and then ice; all over our table and on our Blossom. Ed Hardy then stood up, both of them still cussing and shoving, and two glasses being dropped to the floor. “Oh, don’t you dare f***ing push me. I will knock you ass out” “Let’s take this outside” “blank blank (forget names) here’s my wallet, pay my bill, I am taking this outside with this b*****.” In shock of the cold ice, Kristen and I had pushed out stools away and stood up in astonishment of being disturbed.

By then, the manager had come over and the loud table had already began to gather their belongings (save for their now disowned mother) and left the bar. The mom still in a fit of rage kept making threats. One of Ed Hardy’s friends looked over at us with ice all over and forced us into the middle asking “weren’t they being so f***ing loud and obnoxious?!” Kristen being somewhat more confident in confrontation agreed and as we continued to try and salvage our cardigans and Awesome Blossom, somehow got pushed into the middle of the debauchery (we were pushed into it, I swear).

I am completely defenseless in these situations, except when there is competition as in a cross country race I am not afraid to use my defensive elbows. Being pushed, I somehow threw out an elbow and managed to hit the old lady in the boob or belly roll, not sure at this point, and Kristen quickly helped to defend herself by pushing- just outright pushing- someone in the mix.  Mom decided she couldn’t actually go through with a fight and left the bar, which left the Ed Hardy table, the manager, Kristen and I. They quickly got on their phones, complained about all the Ed Hardy apparel that was ruined and full of spilled booze, and tried to replay the entire night of disruptions to the manager. I didn’t see a point, as they had already paid the bill so they wouldn’t have gotten any free meals out of it. Only the gifted can talk their way out of paying for a perfectly good meal that is somehow “just not right”… Ed Hardy did remember to mention the price of her clothing and purse ($250 for the jacket, $200 for the purse) in her rant about the unprofessionalism of customer service and the fact that the girls were actually employees of the establishment; oh yeah, and that it is unacceptable to have “blue s*** spilt all over her new clothes. They basically wrapped up their complaints in the following manner: 1-they were trying to have a decent conversation 2-the table was disrupting 3-they tried numerous times to sit closer together and talk louder to hear each other 4- when that failed they “kindly” asked the other table to please quiet down so that they could enjoy their time in the bar 5- the fight…. Finally, as they left, they asked for the manager’s business card because they were going to be late for their tattoo sess…. sounds a bit exaggerated to me.

Not being able to talk our way into anything free, the nervous manager shakingly apologized to us as we paid our bill. It turns out that the loud table consisted of two employees and one of their mothers. Kristen and I hurried out to see if there was a continuation of the fight, so do not know what became of the employees.

And that was my Tuesday night in Temecula. How does this have anything to do with running? It doesn’t; but it was so f***ing exciting, I had to write about it. There are one or two running references, sorry for the digression.

“This is where people bring their out of town friends when it’s too cloudy for the beach.” The view from the top of Mt Soledad is one that is meant to be enjoyed by out of town friends and locals alike. The hardest part is running there and even more so, running back down from the mountain.  

I went running with an ex-teammate, current friend, from my new place in Pacific Beach up to the Cross (that is still there). The run up to the mountain was a tough one, but an enjoyable one that might become a regular run for me. There were a few things that I had to keep in mind running with Dennis that would keep the stereotypes out of his head and the jokes from flying about after the run. It is kind of like when a girl plays basketball with the guys, she has to learn to catch the ball and not duck from it, run around the court instead of standing under the basket, and most importantly she has to make a basket when completely open (this does allow for two handed throws and granny shots). Likewise in running, the girl has to learn to not talk the entire run and she has to push on hills and not stop to walk when she gets a side stitch… more about this later.  

We started up the hill and kept a good pace. The first couple of minutes I tried to chat a little bit, asking what he did the previous night, etc… and quickly shut the hell up when I remembered all of the stereotype jokes that were told about running with girls from back in the college days. So we went up the hill, steady pace. I weakened a little bit when we passed the location that I thought was the Cross. After making it up the hill to the top of Soledad, I immediately took to the view and swallowed my pride of being a girl and asked to walk around the hill to take in the view (of course I got the stereotypical male sigh that screams “oh, girls…” with rolling eyes).  Anyone who is anyone that lives or has stepped foot in San Diego should at one point in their lives take in the view from the mountain. If you can’t run there, driving is acceptable. There are many views of every part of San Diego to enjoy. Dennis and I took the lap, enjoyed the view, and started down the hill again…. 

… cue side stitch. 

In a nutshell, it was much more painful to run down the hill than up it. Whether I changed my stride, was breathing irregularly from the stop and go, or couldn’t control my breathing cause I couldn’t talk, my side cramped up so tightly that I began running as if I had a monkey on my back (in high school it would have been known as a bear). Somehow I made it down the hill and got to enjoy the aftermath of a great run.

I really challenged myself this morning; I ran from my house in Solana Beach to work in Carlsbad. While I mainly told myself that it would just be a nice long run, deep down I knew that I was testing my fitness and seeing if I stood a chance to run an hour-and-a-half, half marathon come April. Starting off I felt unstoppable; much like you would feel anytime you are preparing for a challenge (whether it is a marathon race or a run at the beach on your lunch- again, thanks guys). I had certain points picked out to check my watch and get a feel for my pace. Within thirty minutes I was already running through Cardiff. I was on pace for one hell of a run!

Getting prepared for a run like this I had to make the run much less intimidating; Solana, Encinitas, Leucadia, College Hill, work. All I had to do was run from point to point. This stop sign, that light; couple hills, you got this, E. I had some jelly beans in the little pocket of my running tights and my iPod to keep me distracted. I was chugging along, waving at passer bys, enjoying the view….

…and then i got hit with lack of motivation. I am not sure what to attribute it to; the mini streets where cars don’t think about pedestrians, bikers and traffic trying to share lanes with me, or just fear that I still might not make a good time it if I kept this same pace. I contemplated calling co-workers to come pick me up; I stopped at stoplights just to stop (most runners run lights when they can); and worst of all began thinking about this performance in a marathon, let alone a half!

By the time I got within two miles of work, I had managed to re-energize myself to make it up the mile-long College Hill. Arriving at work, fatigued and disappointed, I had clocked the same damn half-marathon time that I have been running for years; STILL unable to break it. Walking into the office, I had the admiration of co-workers to lift my spirits and to take the run positively. As many of yesterday’s team members approached to talk of sore muscles and lactic acid, I immediately smiled as I knew in a matter of minutes I would have those same complaints….

… at lunch, Tyler asked; “So you think you’ll ever run from your new place in PB?”

… Wonder what the title of that blog post will be…

I took the office (save for the smokers and salespeople) on a run today at the beach. It was a great experience and one worth blogging about. There were some that went out too fast, some that had to walk… But in the end, Team eVisibility did a run-and succeeded.

The preparation was alot of fun. Everyone heard someone else was going running and decided to join. Hearing how many people were coming got me pumped to run. We got to the beach and had a few moments to stretch…..

… and then we were off!

We ran together, single file when necessary, and watched Alex take the lead. Maybe it was the excitement to be away from his PPC’ing or just to be close to the waves; wonder how long this would last….

Running along our merry way, we all got a great view of the ocean, the sunny blue skies, and of the French man running (we-we- ze French can run- huh ho)…

Of course, in my excitement, I was running in and out of everyone, speeding up to take pictures, laughing at people’s strides, and encouraging all of the brave souls that were out there with me….

The regulars that run with me every Monday were having just as much fun, maybe even showing off a little Wearing muscle shirts and even taking them off…..

At the end of the run, the regulars had sprinted to the end, the brave were picked up, and salad was eaten. To Team eVisibility- Alex, Ricardo, George, Said, Tyler, and Mia: You have made my day and helped me get one step closer to getting the entire office into the running addiction I call health…..

 …smokers, you are next!

Brushing your teeth, putting on sunscreen, running your scheduled run… something we all appreciate after its done; but it never fails that we will try our damndest to talk ourselves out of it before going through. When I plan out a run, I begin it sometimes with a negative perspective. Sometimes I am even thinking negatively before I even think about the run. It’s too ambitious, I won’t have time, someone might be calling me and I will miss the conversation, etc. etc.

It is one of the biggest challenges of running; to stick to your plan, go out, and potentially have the run of your life. It’s much easier to shorten it, run it at a slower pace, or to not even run it at all (if, suppose, you are starving at the time and would rather just eat instead). Every runner knows that after a short warm-up, any doubts will disappear and they will feel better about the run, stick to their original plan, and be happy after the run. But how many of us actually think that far in advance when we are putting our running shoes on? 

If you find yourself doubting how a run will go, how you will do, or whether you even want to do it, a simple trick that running magazines won’t tell you is to SUCK IT UP. Think about the blacked out/ missed workout on your calendar. Or better yet, think about the starving children in Africa that– (just kidding- Bless their poor hearts). If that doesn’t work, another trick is to think about the halfway point and getting there. Once you get halfway, it is just a countdown until you are done. In the end, the point is to challenge yourself to beat your negativity. You never know; you could surprise yourself with a good run (it works for me, anyways).

A conversation that took place  in the office today: 

“No running today, runner?”

 ”She ran.”

“The End.”

…Fade to black…