#Relentless

I signed up.  Enough thinking. Time to train. 
The agreement: We go as slow as the slowest team member. We work as a team. Even if it takes us 9 hours, we will all finish.  We will be relentless. 

This thing was created by the British Forces, huh?  Well, I've spent enough time telling cops where to go for a living. Time to pony up, show up, and shut up. 
I'll be the girl covered in water and mud, sucking down air and dust determined look in her eye and a smile that says "it hurts, but it's not the boss of me."
Through ice,  fire, mud, water, electric shock... look for #TeamRelentless this September in Tahoe.

one {step} at a time

“Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; 

just never give up."― Dean Karnazes

Exactly a year ago tonight, I was preparing for my first ever 5K.
Fitness, on most levels, has never really been my strong suit.  In fact, I went to see a military recruiter just out of high school  and after they told me that I needed to loose 20 lbs and start running,  I decided I was out.  Just like that.  Done-zo.  No military career for this gal cause she was too attached to her baby fat.
I always had an excuse:  "I'll do a 5k when I lose 10 lbs" "I don't have the lung capacity"  "I don't want my junk jiggling all over the place in public" #drama #liesItoldmyself
Then one day last year, my BFF from work and I decided we'd enter a group mud run and we'd train with a local 5K in a regional park a few weeks before. 
Our "easy" run, our first 5k, the "training run" on the trials we thought we knew  was the slipperiest, slidiest, messiest, muddiest adventure I had to date. When the torrential downpour would let up a few minutes at at time, we'd look at each other and just laugh and shake our heads. We paid to do this?!
It seemed like a cold rain soaked, wind blown, mud slung forever to the finish line but when I got there, to the end, more rewarding than the water or the bagels or the shelter or even the cool finishers medal,   was my sense of accomplishment, my long sought after to-do checked of my fitness bucket list .
A 5K a couple of years ago might as well have been climbing Mount Everest.  Today, it is quite literally a walk in the park.


Yeah, I still can't run the entire thing without having to stop and walk for a while. My thighs are still chubby and they still rub together. I still feel like hell for about a week after the long runs.  But ya know, I earned my right to call myself a runner.

Tomorrow, I will do my 10th organized run in a year. In the last year, I've run down 10Ks, 8 mile trail runs through the mountains,  and now I've got my eye set on a half-marathon and Tough Mudder.  Things I thought I'd never do. 
I just had to go back to basics and do like Nike is always saying. I just had to put one foot in front of the other.  Even if I had to say it in my head with each one,  I just had to take it one step at a time. Mind over matter over mud,  I just had to do it. 
Running & small goals like a 5K a month at a time remind me that anything is possible if you put your mind to it.

{8} Mile

This ain't no Eminem story.  
As you might have read previously, back in March,  I did my first 5k and since then decided that I would do some version of an organized run  every month from then on for an entire year.  I'm 6 for 6 so far. Go me!
Why do a run a month?   No.   The question is: Why not?!

I like goals, but don't call them lofty just yet. Well, 1/2 lofty. 5k is only like 3.2 miles but the way I see it,  that's 5 more Ks than I have been doing previously ever and well,   if I'm ever going to meet that bucket list item of doing a full 26.2 marathon,  I gotta start somewhere right? 
I never get enough sleep.   It's just how things are in my world and I'm learning to cope.  When I do sleep and then it's time to get up, it looks like this: 

{ it's like my body is glued to the bed}

So Saturday I finally got out of bed and me and Lynn finally got going to Santa Cruz at 3pm. {only 3 hours later than we had originally talked about leaving} No biggie, there was no big rush.  

We talked a lot, we sang some songs (ok, I did most of the singing). There was the mandatory Starbucks trip and then there was a wall of traffic which was just a reminder to turn the radio up and roll the windows & sunroof back. 

{sunshine, sunroof, good company = good times}

Dead stopped, We tried to get everyone else in the cars around us to sing "My Sharona" with us, but no one wanted to play in our Reindeer Games.  Their loss.

We finally made it into Santa Cruz, found our sketchy little Inn, where they store all the extra furniture and decor out front by the "office", which is actually just is just a telephone number to a confused person who told us they left the key to our room under the mat in front of the door to the room where there were no pictures on the walls.  The "second" bedroom was really a rollaway in the living room right by the front window, where the fire alarm was disconnected, and there were 2x4s holding up the couch - which was described as "velvety and comfy" and "will suck you in like an SVU marathon".  

Uhhmm................

Deciding to flee the Bate's Motel get dinner,  we opted to spend the next couple of hours at the harbor and on the beach right at sunset, soaking up the last of the day, scaling the rock wall levee (carefully, in flip flops mind you) and taking about 157 pictures between two of us.   After neither one of us slid into the Pacific, we stuffed our faces at the Crow's Nest (which was classy and comfy and sucked us in like a hungry moth to a BBQ flame) before heading back to get some "sleep". 

Sleep.  Remember that thing that escapes me?  Yeah.   Neither do I and neither did Saturday night.  My August run was and ante-upper.   An 8-mile trail run.  That's the equivalent of a 12k. I'll see your 5k's and raise you 7ks, muuuwhhhaahahahaaaa!!!
8 miles on no sleep, with very little preparation, but just enough advice from Lynn on what eat to keep my energy up and keep myself hydrated for what I hoped would be less than a 3 hour trek. Running is not my forte. 
But you know what they say? Go big or go home. 
A quick breakfast on the way to carb up, we arrived at the start line about an hour early,   grabbed our gear, stretched, hydrated, and I used the bathroom like 7 times! At an all women's race, the bathroom was line was EPIC.  
Lynn was doing the half marathon, so she started 10 minutes earlier than I did.  Which left me solo and with my own motivation.

Start time 08:55 am, I took my place at the back of the pack where I remained for the next 2:16 hours.  I wasn't competing with anyone but myself.  In my book, showing up, taking time out of my hectically busy schedule, I had already won. 
Of the family, my brother, who ran ACROSS the country last year for Batten Disease, is the marathoner. I have always been the support driver, the finish line sign holder, the girl behind the scenes who didn't believe that she could step out of the sidelines and get INTO the race. 
Not anymore.  Hell.  Highwater. Doubt. Distance. None of that was going to keep me from finishing.

Source: naturalcuriosities.com via Lauren on Pinterest

Short of injuries, I was getting it done. I don't know what took over, but I did a lot of thinking out there on the trails.  I occasionally looked up at the break in the trees and felt the sun shining down on me as I kept a steady pace. 

I talked to Catie, who I dedicated my run to, who had the disease that my brother ran to raise awareness for.  Catie was a fighter and now she's an angel. I remembered how much she used to run as a child. I thought of my brother and all the miles he put in over 4.5 months. I smiled for all the times I skipped the gym or stayed in bed...today kicked the ass of all those days. I thought of the people in my life with failing health. I thought about a lot. A steady stream of sweat reminded me that this was no stroll in the park. Fire roads, steep trials with roots cut in that made their own natural steps, tripping hazards reminding me to keep my eyes on the ground and directly in front of me. My pony tail pulling some kind of wiper blade action across my back, it stuck to me just enough to keep my arms stretched back behind me occasionally to adjust it. 
I played the same songs over and over again this {one}, that {one}, this{one} again, this {one} really got me moving:  Sometimes you gotta push 
Though all your obstacles... No matter what the options are 
There is no lose , there is no fail 
LETS GO... We were born to run
I kept going as my lungs adjusted, I remembered my yoga breathing, and paid attention to Lynn's advice, fuel up about every 20 minutes, take this for cramps, take that for hydration.  Walk, run, walk, run, walk, run...the other ladies on the trail and the volunteers smiled and told me I was doing a good job, don't stop, you're almost there, you're doing a great job, keep going.
And so I did.  I kept going.   One step at at time, 1/4 mark, 1/2 mark, 2 miles left...and before I knew it, I made it.  Finished, the end, pulled out my headphones so I could hear them announce my name as I crossed the finish line. 

I texted my family, my mom, my best friends, and my trainer. 

"Done.  2:16 minutes, 8 miles.  I did it."

{this pro procrastinator did the damn thing!}

The rest of the day was kind of an exhausted, sleep-sick blur.  We made our way back to Downtown, grabbed a big lunch, bought a couple of beach towels, and then I laid out on the beach and fell asleep in 75* of sun beating down on me in the sand.  

Another long trip back and more great conversation, I got my mangled body home in one piece, calling off the early morning training session, got the back end of my shift covered, and slept for 17 glorious hours ...this is what straight out of hibernation looks like. Sunburnt and sore as all get out, but rested and completely accomplished.

Today, just short of 48 hours later, my body hurts every where.  I can feel that expanse in my lungs all stretched out when I laugh or cough. I'm moving slow.  Real slow. I feel it in my back, in my abs, in my obliques...its pain, but its good pain. It's the kind of pain you earn...it's sweet satisfaction of doing something you never thought you were capable of. 

Source: runforthethrill.tumblr.com via Lauren on Pinterest

So I went from 5 to 8 and now...now, what's next?  

I dunno, but stay tuned...it'll be good whatever it is. 

confessions {lies} & sweat stains

I have a confession.

I'm putting myself on notice...I have 18 (count em!!) eight-teen 30- minute personal training sessions that have been sitting on the books at Fitness 19 for like 3 years. I'm a card carrying member of not 1 but 2 local gyms and the downtown yoga studio.  I have 3 expired sessions at the pilates studio on Main St.  Four years ago (wtf?!), I won a Crossfit package for a month of membership and free training sessions,and NEVER cashed it in.  I have 4 brand new racquetballs still airtight fresh sitting in my passenger's seat and a racquet sharing the back seat of my car with a set of 5lb hand weights, a fitness mat, a yoga mat, and a pair of Brooks running shoes. 

I've been posing like someone who gives a rat's ass about being a gym rat.  I'm a poser.

3 years...that's 36 months...1,095 days...26, 280 hours...

I"m 31, that's almost 10% of my life 

{Father, it has been 36 months, 1,095 days, and 26, 280 hours since my last confession}

I haven't cancelled my membership because even burning that fee every month is still like 1/6 of the cost of those session I bought with a tax return a few years back when I declared it the Year of Lauren.  It was the year of Bullshit and Lies I told my body.  The lies were intoxicating, they took over my mind and my will power too. 



I have THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY FIVE PINS labeled "Get Fit" on just one Pinterest board.  Go ahead, take a look.  That's just another thing I'm hoarding.  Good Lawd, someone call the Procrastination & Full of BS Police and tell them I need to assume the position.  

So, I am writing you, whoever you are reading this blog,  along with the the inner circle of folks  who I already sent this to on Facebook, the ones I know will ride my ass and my case about it...go ahead, feel free to remind me constantly 'bout this confessional. 

I.have.no.more.excuses.

Even the guy on the phone at the gym scoffed when he looked up my account. Wow you have a lot of sessions he said... That shit ain't cheap...it's like an entire monthly mortgage payment full of sessions. If I could cash them out I would, but I can't so I'm gonna invest in some serious sweat equity. 

Martha Focker...don't let me get away with this shit again. I'm going in this Thursday at 12:30 to meet up with Dulon, his muscle shirt, the red clipboard, and that unwavering trainer's stare that makes my little excuses pee in their little pants.  He'll remember me and kick my ass again until I'm about damn ready to pass out. He'll have me running stairs and doing squats like I'm training for the Porta-potty squat Olympics. 

Skinny and flawless be damned...I'm not totally comfortable in my skin, I'm a chick with insecurities. I suck it when I take pictures, and I feel all the jigggly bits jiggling when I'd rather they not, but you better believe I've never been that girl who hides in her house cause she's afraid of a little muffin top.

  Confident is sexy.

I  know this.  I don't lack confidence, but I can always be a better, stronger, happier, healthier version of me.

We all can.  

Now, this isn't the first time I've written about this health & fitness struggle in a blog.  In fact, writing about my fitness battle has been one of the ligaments in the body of work that's been my private, personal blog for the last four years.  

But this is about accountability right?  

Ok, so here's to accountablity.  

Here they are, in all their self-deprecating, hopeful, full of sweat stains and self-loathing, spandex pants and sports bras glory. 

weight loss? boom!

yoga? bam!

Part of the glory of blogging is having it accessible at the refreshing of a web browser for some insta-motivation.  I joined a fitness bootcamp last September and I still have kept that weight off.  It was slow and oh so sweaty, but it worked. My inner Scarlet O'Hara took over and drove me to camp in the far too early morning hours before my brain was awake and then she grimaced through gritted teeth and blinked through salty sweat stained lashes one torturous squat and one breathless lap at at time.  

Bootcamp, those are the blogs I go back to when the voices in my head grow from a whisper to the thundering chants of a stadium roar telling me that I'm too tired, I have to much else to do, I can do it tomorrow, my feet hurt, my boobs hurt, I think I'm getting a cold, I have to be up early, snivel, whine, cry, pout...

That blog, it's unapologetic, guileless, and raw.  It is the sweat stain in my sports bra, the stretch in my workout pants, and the grimmace on my face everytime my muscles got ripped apart and grew back even stronger.  It's the aching, the pains, the frustration, and the gasping of my stagnant lungs.

outdoor adventure bootcamp sessions? Pow!  

and then in anthology form: 

Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6, Day 7, Day 8, Day 9, the last week

Even if you just read day 1 and then the last week, you'll see the change. 

Bootcamp, now that was a big pick me up moment, or actually it was a series of weekly pick me ups.  One of the better decisions I made for myself in recent years.  The blogs I kept about them, I just read through some of them,and damn this girl can find a way to turn a phrase.  

You know what else? 

You better believe she can find herself again in the reflection in her own puddle of sweat as she eeeks out a few more laps and drops to her knees for a few more push-ups.

You see, I can make some great decisions for myself, it's just the consistency that's the issue.  

What finally spurred this after all the years of self-sabotage?

Today's themed picture of the day from my July Photo a Day Challenge: "Mirror" 

Well this is my mirror, the 3-year old reflection of lazy procrastination on my to-do list staring me down until I finally said ENOUGH!  

I loose sight of myself now and then.

We all do.  

But I just can't close my eyes and turn away from my own reflection any more. 

I know better.

You see this isn't about body image, sex appeal, the note's in my doctor's charts, this is all about me.

It's to me, for me, about me, from me.  

It's just about me.  

This is my time and it's about damn time.

Just for good measure and to expand my circle of accountability, I'm linking this little confessional of mine to the arena of the ladies (and gentlemen) of the GFC Blog Hop. Welcome strangers and new friends. Feel free to remind me that I have set a goal and I have nothing holding me back.

Celebrate {fight back} Remember

Cancer is an ugly, unpredictable, unfair, and unjust thing. 

It spares no one regardless of age, gender, or social status. 

Those who have faced cancer, past & present are warriors, fighters, champions.  

They're about hope, perseverance, and inspiration.

Relay for Life is a party celebrating all of those things. 

I have been a Team Captain in the past for this event, but time has gotten away from me lately and this year I was merely an unaffiliated participant. 

In between mandatory work shifts and call backs, and unable to escape sleeplessness, with my inner Scarlett O'Hara (more on her later) at the helm, I decided to make the most of my sleep deprivation, threw on my workout gear and headed out to the track.

As I walked around the track:

I caught up with family members a few short phone calls at a time.

I waved at co-workers and neighbors that I saw out in the crowd.

I noticed the other participants young & old, the messages on their shirts, the signs and pledges that adorned the track, saw all the names written on luminary bags in crayon and marker - uncle, brother, mother, grandfather, son, cousin, friend...

I thought about my Aunt Esther, 74 years young, her tears before her mastectomy earlier this year, and then picking her  up the very next day when she was released from the hospital.

She said, "I'm ready to party, but the doctor said I can't move around for at least 6 weeks.  I'm so disappointed, I was just going to start zumbaing."  Champion.

I thought about my friend Bev who passed away two years ago, who in an email announcing her cancer had come back, titled "My Big Adventure", always thinking of others first  addressed her friends and family with this message:

"How are you all doing?  Hope that 2010’s challenges and obstacles are few and easily manageable.  Be sure to celebrate each day….whatever it brings!"  Warrior.

I thought about the instantaneous sinking feeling that hit me last month when I heard that one of my oldest friends was diagnosed with Stage-3 cancer at the age of 31, just a month older than me.

I thought about asking over for a glass of wine for my birthday and then wondering if she was allowed in to drink with her diagnosis.  Her response with the great sense of humor that she has always had, "I'm 31 with stage-3 throat cancer, of course I can, the rules are out the window now."  Fighter.

Finally plugged in my headphones, tuned out the world, and started listening to my head and my heart. 

I set a goal for myself a few months back: enter an organized walk/run once a month for 12 months. 

I had just over an hour to get in that distance before I had to be back at work.

So with my girls, Kelly Clarkson, P!nk, Rihanna, and Adele keeping the beat for me, I started to run. 

Each loop around the track was 1/4 of a mile...my monthly goal is a 5k  (3.1 miles) - 13 laps around the track, grabbing a paperclip each time I made a loop to track my distance.

I can't lie, I'm good for about 1/6 of a mile running a time and then I'm done...but it's a start.

Bucket list item #10- run a full marathon. 26.2 miles. 

 I might be in my retirement by the time I get that done, but I WILL do it.

With all the warriors, fighters, and champions I have been privileged to meet and know, I just can't sit back and let life pass me by. 

I will make the most out of the hours and days that have been given to me.



{March/Brazen Lagoon Valley 5K, April/Survivor Mud Run 5k

 May Leukemia & Lymphoma Society 3K Cancer Walk, June Relay for Life 5K}