I Rarely Run in the Rain

You know how sometimes you just KNOW that you won't get in the workout you planned? Well, that was my day today. I planned on getting my run on this afternoon, but I as soon as I looked out the window, I could tell it was one of those days where it was going to be gross and rainy all day.

Gross, rainy days do not inspire any sort of energetic need to cavort in the wilderness. Not for me.

Instead, I did a short workout in my basement with the promise of running if the weather cleared. Well, it's later, and my energy is firmly sapped, and the weather is still gross. I am not 100% sure that I'm skipping the run just because of the rain, but I am glad that I worked out today. Plus, my run tomorrow will be even better.

AKA The Finicky Runner

I am what you might call a "finicky" runner. Until I get in the zone, I am absolutely useless if one thing breaks me out of my stride—an undone shoelace, a bug in my face, a headphone falling from my ear. It drives me absolutely nuts, but it was worse when I first started running.

In fact, those little annoyances could actually ruin a run for me when I first started. I would get into my warm-up, ready to kick a run's booty...and then everything seemed to want to annoy me. An ear piece would fall from my ear, so I would fix it. In the process, I pulled its mate from the other ear and had to fix that, but I couldn't get it comfortable. Pandora wouldn't play the songs I was in the mood to listen to. Since I hadn't yet learned to double knot my shoes, they would come undone. The new knot brushed at my shins, making me feel like something was crawling on my ankles.

Add to that, before my body got used to sweating (I used to brag that I didn't sweat!), I would get this painful prickling sensation along my skin. I am not 100% certain that sweating was the cause, but it would not happen unless I was getting to the point of working up a sweat. Thankfully, I don't experience it anymore.

I would get so worked up in the first few minutes of my run that some days I just quit. I turned around in the middle of the street or sidewalk or grassy knoll and marched home in a huff because my body felt out of whack from little tiny things that I had no control over.

That changed one day last summer. It was hot and muggy, even though it had just stopped raining, and I wasn't in the mood to run anyway. Even in my warm-up, I was annoyed. But I had already tied up my laces, slipped into my running shorts, and gotten out the door, so I might as well do this thing they call exercise.

I got less than thirty seconds into my run before my foot caught on a sidewalk that I had run countless times before and would run countless times after. I went sprawling, one hand out to catch me, the other pulled tight to my chest to protect my case-less iPhone. My glasses flew from my face. A car passed by, silent, but I could just imagine the driver, face pulled into a laughing grimace.

Humiliated, I pulled myself from the ground and picked up my glasses. I check my phone. Not a scratch. I looked at my hands, the right with a minor scrape down the side, the left fine and dandy. I looked down at my knees. The left had taken the brunt of the impact and blood had started to well up in the scrape left there. The right was scraped but not nearly as badly. Both were covered in gravel.

I was done. I had so had it with the day.

I turned around and glowered on the way back to my apartment.

From where I had fallen to my apartment was a straight shot, and, as I walked, I calmed. My footsteps became lighter—less like a toddler stomping to get her way—and, suddenly, with no thought to it, I turned down a side street and began to run.

I know that I must have looked like some sort of crazy running fanatic, face focused and blood dripping down from the wound on my knee.

I felt awesome. I was awesome.

Yes, my headphones still annoy me. Yes, the feeling of a shoelace brushing against my ankle sends me into a momentary bug-fighting frenzy. Yes, I have to brush the hair out of my face 400 times before I'm sweaty enough that it just sticks where it lands.

But I don't give up on a run anymore. When I run, I'm reminded that I can do anything that I want regardless of my unathletic past or my neurotic present.

When I run, I run for my future, and that's a lot more important than any slight annoyance.

Questions? Comments? Let me know in the comments below!

Adventures in St. Louis

So, I recently made the move to St. Louis. It's been quite an emotional journey, and I am still not entirely sure that I want to stay in the city for very long. Instead of dwelling on that, though, I am finally making the most of my time in a city that is absolutely full of places to run.

The first place I ran was just up and down my (very hilly) neighborhood. We have some beautiful houses, and my parents' little dogs loved the exercise (for the first five minutes, then they were done). It honestly was not very inspiring, and my running, which I had already slowed on, became almost non-existent for a few weeks.

Yes, weeks. Weeks that aided in the emotional hurricane that was my move to StL.

I finally found my step when I started volunteering at Stray Rescue of St. Louis. Not only did it get me out of the house, but I was able to work with dogs in a way that helped them and got me active. Let me tell you, walking dogs that have been cooped up in cages for hours takes both upper- and lower-body strength. It's also awesome. These pooches are so excited to play and make friends that you really can't have a negative thought in your mind.

That evening, even after three-and-a-half hours of walking rambunctious, lead-pulling dogs, I hit Grant's Trail and Clydesdale Park. The run was good for my soul, my mind, and my body. I ran some—more than I expected—I walked some, and I sneaked through the trails of the park, trying my hardest to be silent because I could. And my mind ran with me, thinking about stories and nature and running and the reasons that I run.

I was good. It was much needed. It was beautiful.

The Magic Number: 730

My goal for 2013 is simple: Run 730 miles by the end of the year.

So far, I have run 72.5, which is a little behind (I suppose "little" is relative here), but I blame the weather. Running outside, with the sun shining on my luminescent, sunburn-loving skin, is so much easier than running on a treadmill. I run farther faster outside because I have so many things to distract me!

But I hate the cold. HATE IT. Nothing good ever comes of being cold and running, my mind focused on which limb will fall off first and whether my snot and tears will freeze to my face. Attractive.

So, with our winter actually being winter, I have not run nearly as much as I should have. This whole snow business has truly thrown a slip in my stride. When spring comes, though, I fully intend to run until I can't stop.

At the end of every post, too, I will post a number/730 to let you keep track of my progress with me!

I know, you cannot wait. Neither can my Underarmours.

72.5/730

The Vanishing Girl...Returns!

I keep getting yelled at to blog about my progress and the recipes that pop out of my brain. Plus, I have this nifty blog all set up, so I wonder why the two have yet to combine.

This post is just a summary of the last year as a vanishing girl, and the next posts will be both about current events and flashbacks to where I have come from.

I turned twenty-five on Sunday. For those of you keeping track, that’s St. Patrick’s day. In other words, I have the best birthday on the face of the planet. And it just keeps getting better. Not only do I keep getting more privileges (I mean, no more young driver fee when I rent a car—bring it on!), but I keep getting healthier and getting to better know who I am.

In 2012, I lost 60 pounds. Crazy. I have to admit, I absolutely love when people ask me if I’ve lost weight and tell me that they didn’t recognize me because 60 pounds is a huge deal. 60 pounds is an eight-year-old boy with and eating problem. 60 pounds is a lot of milestones and confidence and smoothies and vegetables and miles.

Oh em gee—the miles. I can confidently say that I logged a good 800 miles last year. Walking, running, biking, skipping. When you walk everywhere and your work is a mile away, 800 miles is easy. Add to that the running I did...

I also participated in Run for Your Lives, a zombie-infested 5K/obstacle course. IT WAS AWESOME.

This year, I also participated in my first Whole30 (yes, there will be another). The Whole30 was life-changing and helped me realize that I do not need sugar, that I might actually be a little crazier that I thought, and that I might have a gluten allergy.

I also created some of my favorite recipes of all time while on Whole30. Recipes that used whole food, that tasted phenomenal, and that left me feeling great about what I was consuming. Brilliant.

Then, I fit into my goal dress. I fit into my goal dress. And it looks phenomenal.

From now on, I will continue to fight for my health and make good food and slip up a little because I do love cake. I want to take you guys with me, invade your pockets and your keyboards, and hopefully inspire you with my words and my choices and my imperfections.

Ready?