You Gotta Have A Plan….

March 28th was the official start of training for the Omaha Marathon, which will be on September 25th. I don’t know about others, but for me, it’s always best to have a plan. Something to follow. I don’t feel as though I can ever just “wing it”, which may be why both Kevin and I haven’t had much progress when it comes to getting in shape.

This week has gone by fast, and worked out well for us. It’s nice to have an actual calendar to follow, and we know what to anticipate for the next day.

I highly suggest to everyone out there that if your intent is to get back into shape, or to start a fitness regimen, to look for some training ideas or suggestions online. I’ve mentioned this before, but we are following the training guide on There are others out there. I recently saw one in Runner’s World magazine:,7123,s6-238-244-255-0,00.html

On the rest days that are indicated in my MarathonRookie training, we are doing weight training, to help to strengthen our bodies, especially with core work. I subscribe to Shape magazine, and will often tear our pages from my magazine, and save them in a binder so I have an easy reference guide to different toning work outs.

I have a feeling this will be a very fast month for us… but hopefully a fast month full of progress….

137 pounds

190 pounds


So, usually on the first of every month, Kevin and I take a picture of each other, and post it for all to see, along with our stats (well, our weight). So, people can see the progress we are making.

And I completely forgot. I was checking out a picture of a friend of mine on Facebook, who has become incredibly ripped, and was showing off her new six pack abs (did I mention she is a mommy?) and this got me thinking about my own fitness goals. Which then led me to my blog, and how there is no update.


Maybe I will remember tomorrow?

I’ll Have The Embarrassment With A Side Order Of Shame… To Go, Please….

I have joined a fantastic group of ladies, who are involved in a weekly blog project. Every Thursday, we will dazzle you with our insight on various topics. And each week, we take turns coming up with the idea for the blog topic. Please check out their blogs as well, listed under my Blogroll section. Just click on:

Froggie (Tracey): An experiment in knitting, writing- and life

Merry Land Girl (Melissa): Tales of a suburban mom who likes to talk about pop culture, books, Judaism, family, friendship and anything else that comes to mind.

Mom Of Many (Susanna): One Mom’s perspective on life, raising kids, knitting and other unrelated topics.

This week, it was my pick for topic of the week, and I chose: What is your most embarrassing moment?

I re-live one of mine off and on over the years. Something will happen that triggers the memory, and I am right back in the moment…

1991. I was thirteen years old. I was just beginning to understand what love was. Ok, maybe I won’t go that far. More like, what a crush was. I had my first hardcore crush on a boy named Jorge. To me, he was the most beautiful person in the entire world. I even remember to this day how his caramel colored eyes looked in the sunlight. I used to imagine what it would be like to get a kiss from Jorge. I wanted him to be my first kiss.

He wanted nothing to do with me. I was a year younger than him, which in teen years equates to like, FIVE years. I was all angles and awkward, and a big tomboy. I loved to play sports and go camping and fishing. When we played basketball, he’d always pick me to be on his team, but there was no way he’s want me to be anything more than just a teammate, or a friend. And I am sure if we were older he’d think I was super cool for being into sports, but at that age, he was looking for a girl who was pretty and wore makeup, and that just wasn’t me.

I was playing basketball with him one morning, during summer break. I still held out hope that he’d see me more than just a teammate, or opponent, so I would play basketball with him, get roughed up, get knocked around just like the big boys do. This particular day it was just the two of us. I was getting over a nasty cold, but that didn’t stop me.

I am dribbling the ball, my back to Jorge. This is where it goes in slow motion for me. He’s standing behind me, anticipating my move. He’s guarding me close. The basket is a few feet away. I pick up the ball and go to pivot on my left foot, and I feel the snot starting to ooze from my nose. I was at the “serious runny nose” stage in my cold. I turn to face the basket, and Jorge.

The snot comes flying out of my nose. I can still see the shock and fear as the yellow/green gobs smack him dead in the face. I am sure the amount in reality was minuscule, but in my 13 year old brain, it was massive. It covers his mouth and nose, and a few splatters make it to his brown hairline. We both stand there, staring at each other, me clutching the basketball for dear life, he still shocked and amazed at what just happened. I can see the boogers starting to run a little on his face. Oh God, did some go into his mouth?!?

This thought propels me off the basketball court, running full force in shame to my home, where I throw myself onto my bed and have a good cry.

I can’t remember the days after that incident. I don’t know how we dealt with that moment. I only know that now, there are times where I clean up snot from my boys’ faces, and I remember my own snot covering the face of the boy I loved. And I shudder a little inside.

And Baby Makes Three….

Nolan decided to grace us with his cheery disposition around 5:30am. I thought I’d heard him squawking in his crib, but decided it must have been some sort of audio apparition. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. And, Kevin and I had planned on getting a quick work out done BEFORE the boys woke up.

I quickly fed Nolan, while Ben (the soon to be six year old) still slept blissfully in his own room. And, living by the old adage, “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em”, that’s just what Kevin and I had to do!

We really only had time for three core moves this morning:

Now, we did perform this while holding Nolan. He was sitting right on my lap, which added an extra 13 or so pounds to the move.


Now, I placed Nolan underneath me while I did these, kissing his forehead while I did it, and counting to him. He really got a kick out of these!


I did something like this, only I had Nolan on my legs, and holding onto his arms, crunching, and counting.  This was his favorite move!

We did a few sets of each move, and by that time, it was time to get Ben up, and start the rest of our day.

26 Weeks… And Counting….

Today is the start of our marathon training… a 26 week program that will lead us to being ready for the Omaha marathon/half marathon.

Both of us woke up tired. Neither of us wanting to hop on the treadmill (Nebraska isn’t getting with the “SPRING IS HERE” program, and it’s a balmy 26 degrees outside right now). But, we rolled out of bed and got it done, anyway.

I don’t know about others, but for me, I need to have a plan in action. A chart to follow. I’m someone who is devoted to her planner, the type to make sticky notes so I don’t forget what needs to be done. We are using the training plan from:

I used the Half marathon training plan back in 2009, and it went very well for me, so my husband will be following that plan as we get closer in. I’m following the 26 week training schedule for the full marathon, and Kevin will also be utilizing it until it’s time for him to break away and use his own for the half.

I’ll be updating my work out section so that anyone can follow what we are doing from day to day, and I’ll list the actual plan that marathon rookie has set, and the intermediate plan that Kevin and I are following. Maybe someone out there will also decide that today is the day, and wants to join us!

The Good… The Bad… And The Ugly….

I’ve read Runner’s World. I’ve read multiple websites that pertain to running.  I’ve read blogs of other individuals who are runners, who are training for some sort of running event.

In everything I’d read, nothing touched on the ugly of running.  It’s always the good.  Borderline bad would be referencing injuries you can sustain during running, and how to overcome said injuries.  There was always a beautiful little fuzzy line surrounding the articles regarding some runner’s tough struggle, and how they overcame it.

And then I trained for a half marathon, my first and only to this date, in 2009.  I trained with a good friend of mine, and even she never mentioned what I’m about to share with you.  Yes, this means I get to share information that might be classified under “TMI”.  This also means that you will learn more about me than you ever intended to learn, but I want you to be informed!  This is a part of the process, just like stretching, jelling and speed work might be.


Not everyone will experience this, but I certainly did, and I feared for my life!  A friend of mine and I recently conversed about this, although he was very embarrassed to even bring it up.  He had also trained for a half marathon, and had what has been dubbed “runner’s trots”.  I discovered the expression after searching several sites online. Bottom line, you have runny stools.  Like, really runny.  Like, water.  You eat, and it comes right back out. What causes this, is blood supply.  During your hard run, your body is pumping blood to the areas it’s needed the most.  This means your arms, legs, etc.  And then when you stop running, the blood flow which has been pumping to various other areas in the body, now can concentrate back in your stomach region, i.e. digestive tract.  And this really relaxes the bowels, which in turn… well, you get the idea. Some people will even experience a little blood.  Not a cause for concern, unless it happens more than a few days. If things aren’t back to normal within a week, I’d certainly get it checked out.


I can’t attest for men runners.  But a lot of women (especially ones who have had children) will at times have a urination issue while they run.  As in, they can’t hold it. It’s best to relieve yourself as much as possible before you go running, and even that sometimes won’t help.  Those of us who have had babies may do as many kegal excersizes (tightening and toning the pelvic floor) as we can, and because your insides are just a little different than they were beforehand, you will still experience this.  Some women wear panty liners. Others go as much as they can before running.


They get shapely, and more toned.  But all that pounding on the pavement can cause varicose veins (dark blue veins that can be thin or thick in appearance, may even be painful to the touch) or spider veins (small, red spider web-like marks).  Unfortunately, it’s hereditary.  And running long distances can cause veins in your leg to swell.  I’ve noticed that some on my own legs have disapeared (like the ones I ended up getting from pregnancy).  Sometimes losing weight can also help.  Try to switch up your running style.  If you can, try trail or track running.  Good running shoes also helps.  A self tanner can help, if you are bothered enough by them. That will help to reduce the appearance of the veins. You can always look into having a surgical procedure done if they are painful.

Now, I don’t want to deter you from running.  As with anything, practice makes perfect.  If you keep at it, your body will become adjusted  to what you put it through, which will minimize and may even eliminate the above items.   The goal is to start out slow, and listen to your body.

Now, who’s ready to get out there and run?!?  Anyone????  

I’m A People Collector

I tried my hand at collecting when I was a kid… a fantastic rock collection which consisted of the standards, like quartz and whatever else I thought looked “shiny” or “pretty”.  I was 8 years old at the time, which meant mostly everything was worth a ticket into my shoebox of rocks.  I had a few prized possessions though, like the Indian spearhead a neighbor was kind enough to bestow onto me, or the large block onyx rock that I somehow got my hands on, but cannot remember to this day how it found it’s way into my collection.

And I moved.  And with that move, I left my rock collection behind.  Apparently I didn’t think enough of it to bring it with me, and it got lost, along with a lot of other things.

Almost everyone I know has either maintained a collection, or at least attempted to.  Stamps.  Shot glasses.  Shoes. Yes, shoes count.  I felt like the odd man out.  Where was my special collection?

On Facebook, you have your friend list on display.  Ok, you know what?  Let’s go a little more old school.  Because really, this discovery happened while I was on Myspace, back when it was new and fresh, and popular.  I was noticing a trend with me.  I was receiving friend requests from old boyfriends, ex husband(s).  The people who would be considered “taboo” and unacceptable.  Friends who I had fallen out of friendship with because we had some stupid fight 15 years ago.  One of my ex’s, well his wife wanted to friend me on there.  Now how bizarre is that, right?  And I friended every single one of them.  It was at that moment, when I was looking through my friend list, that it dawned on me.

I collect people.

I have friendships that have spanned over many years.  The longest, is over 20.  Now on Facebook, mostly everyone has shifted over as well, and although I may rarely chat with them, they are still there, proudly displayed on my list.  I can’t bring myself to let these people go.  They are my past.  They remind me of who I was, and helped to shape me into who I am now, whether that was for the good, or the bad.  I go months and years without talking to them, but I can know of them, all the same.  I can see how they are doing.  I can make sure that in their own place in this universe, life is going well and it’s all I could ever hope for.

I’ve formed incredible friendships with those who would normally have been overlooked because it’s just not acceptable, as is the case with my ex’s wife.  I wouldn’t trade that for anything, weird or not.  Other friends of mine, the ones who lead less weird lives will ask me what the hell I’m thinking.  How could I even allow such a thing?  And the honest answer is, I have no idea.  I just know to let someone go from my life (which I’ve had to do, believe it or not, but it’s rare) seems to hurt much worse than to just accept the bad patches I may have encountered with someone, and just move on from it.

It’s my way of dealing.  One person at a time.


A Mom On The Run

GCC Creative Writing

Creative Writing at Glendale AZ Community College

Africanist, artist & woman

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