Mission Accomplished

This is the story of an awkward girl's journey on a race to find herself by learning to let go...

This is the story of an awkward girl who found herself when she learned to let go... and so much more.

Hershey Kisses

This is My Full 180. I completed the Hershey Half Marathon on Sunday, October 20, 2013, clocking in at 02:20:44 (I'll take it!). I wish I could say I had a huge smile on my face from the starting line to the finish line, but that would be a lie. In fact, there was an actual point at Mile 10 when a hawk was circling above my head on yet ANOTHER hill, and I just wished that it would swoop down and peck my eyes out. And throughout this whole journey, I've opened myself up completely to you in the hopes that being truthful about my experience would maybe, possibly, just so happen to help someone else who felt like their world was imploding all around them. I never claimed to know everything. I still won't claim to having "the secret" to getting over an ex or surviving an ugly breakup. I never imagined my ending to be so... perfect. But the only thing I can do now is be forever grateful for how it turned out for me. And share some of my learnings along the way, if you allow me to entertain you one last time. 

1. It's a BIG accomplishment if it is to you. I'm not a big fan of the "half marathon" race title. On more than one occasion I would be embarrassed to make a big deal about running a half. Ater all, there are people out there who run DOUBLE what I did, some multiple times. But I got over that quickly when I took a step back to remember that 180 days ago, I couldn't even run 1 mile without stopping to walk and catch my breath. Or 180 days ago, I wouldn't run outside because I was too self conscious about the shape I was in. Now you can call it whatever you want - a half marathon, a 13.1 mile run, a 20k - and I will be proud, because it's a big accomplishment for me. 
2. Learn to accept the kindness of others. I've been absolutely humbled by all of the support and love my friends and family have shown me over the past 180 days. But instead of getting overwhelmed, I'm trying to learn how to accept the kindness of others. These people are your friends for a reason. It's absolutely essential in a time of crisis and recovery to surround yourself with positive people who genuinely care about you. And if they truly care about you, they know that you would do anything to repay the favor someday. I've made it my new goal to slowly but surely return all of the love everyone has shown me whether they need a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a fanny pack to borrow, a playlist to get them pumped up with, a care package to put a smile on their face...  
3. It's not easy, and no one has to understand that but you. I second guessed myself a lot throughout this journey. What is wrong with me? Why is it taking me so long to get over someone who didn't care about me at all in the grand scheme of things? The just "get over it" mentality never worked for me. I was so blessed for this situation to present itself when I was having a particularly hard time and any drastic change seemed like a good idea. But if I could do it all over again, I would stop worrying so much about what other people thought. I would come to terms with the fact that it was not going to be easy, and embrace the learning experience. 
4. Never settle for anything less than you deserve. I realize now that this would be exactly what I was doing if I stayed with my ex. A longterm relationship (and believe me, I've had my fair share) often stays longer-term than it should because it feels comfortable. But there's a big difference between compromise - which is absolutely essential in a healthy relationship - and making excuses. And when you confuse making excuses for compromise, it couldn't be more important to take a step back and reassess if you are getting what you truly deserve. 
5. Let go of expectations and learn to appreciate what's right in front of you. It's OK to take your time when you are getting to know someone. I grew up believing in love at first sight and I built a long list of criteria for "Mr. Right." This might sound like it's directly contradicting #4, but there's another big difference between getting what you deserve and setting unrealistic expectations. By learning to let go of expectations and really appreciate what is happening around and right in front of you, you see the world differently. I've never seen the world as clearly as I do now. And the fact that my boyfriend was patient through this whole process is just one of the many reasons I know he is my Mr. Right. 

There are too many people than I could possibly ever thank here. But without sacrificing anonymity, there's a few that I need to dedicate this blogging journey to, because without you, there would be no My Full 180.

...My family for teaching me what the true definition of strength is. 

...My oldest friend that taught me that the answer wasn't forgetting, it was learning to set a goal and "let go" of him. Counting down to your marathon in 12 days!  The miracle isn't that you finish, but that you had the courage to start. 

...The very special Mules who convinced me to sign up for a half marathon because we were only "half crazy", life changing trainers and now lifelong friends.

...All my BESTS who weren't physically near (from Chicago to Matawan), but made me feel like they were right there every step of the way.

...The Pages that make up my NYC network, my life blood and calming grace in this incredibly amazing but painfully fast-paced environment. 

...Gene Wilder for his fantastical portrayal of Willy Wonka in the greatest movie of all time.

...The writer of this Half Marathon Survival Guide that taught me what "throwaway clothes" were, so I didn't die of hypothermia because I was too cheap to throw out my running gear.

...The honest man at Mile Marker 4 with the sign that read "You're not even close."

...The designer of bacon scarves (and all other food-related fashions).

...The little boy at Hotel Hershey that took one look at us in our silver burrito capes (aka HeatSheets) post race, and said to his parents, "Look, they're made out of Hershey's!"

...Jessie Spano, neon food dye, aye-ayes, Guy Fieri, countdown clocks, 180 Neapolitan Eatery (in no particular order).

...My boyfriend who stuck by my side stride for stride, never gave up on me, taught me how to begin again, and let me stop to go to the bathroom at Mile 8 (even though pulling my sweaty pants up must have cost us 5-10 minutes). With each other, we're always winning.

- Champion, My Full 180

Jessie Spano Gets Me

And the Beat Goes On...

So (La Ti Do), this wouldn't be my blog if I didn't dedicate a post to music. And I figure 5 DAYS to the half marathon is the perfect time to do just that. Allow me to take you "behind the music" of my life...

It all started with two of my greatest musical influences - big shoutout to Raffi and Sharon, Lois, and Bram. I can't remember a birthday as a child when I didn't ask for a Disney soundtrack on cassette tape. I almost broke my first Casio boombox from overuse. I mean, didn't every prepubescent girl do that when the Spice Girls released "SPICE" in 1996? Or maybe I owe that to my first CD, Janet Jackson's "Design of a Decade". No, just me? Well, at twelve years old, my best friend brought me to my first concert - Beastie Boys. Before you jump to any conclusions, my friend's brother and mom were with us. It would be years before I would realize what that smell was...

When I wasn't stealing my sister's copy of No Doubt "Tragic Kingdom", I was rehearsing with my first band, COZMIC. We broke up later that year citing artistic differences, but these girls (or most of them) are still some of my closest friends today. How could we not be with such hard-hitting lyrics as, "We'll be together forever... best friends."

In middle school, I graduated to going to shows alone. Well, not really. I want to take a minute here to thank my friend's father who waited for us in the parking lot while we watched Reel Big Fish at Club Krome. These were my "awkward" years. I was just coming to terms with my identity. My Eminem poster hung proudly from the head of my bed, but I would choreograph dances with my sister and cousin to the latest and greatest Mandy Moore pop hit on the weekends.

Summers were for Summer Theater. Yes, I went to theater camp. And summers bled into fall which meant All (Jersey) Shore Chorus which bled into the Spring Musical... My life was a calculated rhythm of showtunes, and I loved every measure.

High school meant getting our driver's licenses. Which in turn meant driving with the windows down in the Nissan Sentra and the music blasting. Everyone remembers their summer car bands. Mine were Something Corporate and Dashboard Confessional. And it was these years when I learned the true meaning of "home is where the heart is" - whether it was pumping my hands to the beat in the passenger seat with the starshine of my life (22 DAYS until Ani DiFranco) or creating a secret cassette tape of Christmas cover songs that conveniently "vanished" from existence. I lived for Acoustic Nights, or really, any nights that involved music.

I met one of my best friends in college when we struck up a conversation all because she was wearing a Dredg t-shirt and I was wearing a Get Up Kids one. Little did I know at the time we would go on to create our own critically-acclaimed, Grammy Award-winning band - Arctic Music, an alternative/electronica/pop/death metal group under the management of the infamous Lenny... don't ask, don't tell. Hell yeah, I was in an a cappella group at college. I love my Girls Next Door. Muhlenberg was living Pitch Perfect before it was an infinitesimal germ of an idea in a writer's mind.

I may not have pursued acting after college, but I never lost that flair for a good sing-a-long. You might recognize me from Iggy's Karaoke Bar, closing up shop with such hits as Boyz II Men's "End of the Road".  And as I continue to have the absolute honor of performing at some of my friend's most special days of their lives, I've realized I already have half the playlist figured out for my own. Every girl dreams of their Father/Daughter dance on their wedding day, and mine will be our song, thanks to Frank Sinatra and Celine Dion. A great song for a great man.

And the musical quest doesn't end there. I now have the man of my dreams to share his/my favorite songs with as we create the playlist of our lives together. And I have the best friends and support group a girl could ever ask for, so this is where I want to enlist your help...

Your mission, should you choose to accept: To build the ultimate running playlist.

Shape magazine has some great suggestions, but this will be more personal. Simply comment, post, text, call, ping me with your favorite "track to get you amped up on the track" and I'll add it to my race day playlist. I couldn't think of anything more special than having a musical reminder of you when I need it most at Mile 10. Any help is greatly appreciated. And the beat goes on...

Final Countdown

Pre-race anxiety.

Boy, do I have it. TIP: googling it does not help either, because the list of things I didn't do to train properly keeps getting longer and longer...

I've never had a back problem once in my life, and now I can't even bend my head forward without a sharp pain shooting up my spine.

I'm the biggest proponent of flu shots, and I was too scared today to get it for free in my office on the incredibly rare chance I was going to exhibit flulike symptoms in the next 10 DAYS.

Whenever I walk anywhere now, I never take my eyes off the ground because I'm afraid of rolling an ankle on uneven pavement. Forget about the risk I'm taking that I might walk into a street sign, get hit by a car, or even worse, fall into a chocolate river... nevermind, that would be better.

SNAP OUT OF IT. STRATEGIZE. SUCCEED.

Voluntarily Doormant

"The knight tried and tried to knock down the door to save the fair maiden that was trapped inside, but it wasn't budging. Still, he didn't give up. The door was so strong that eventually the walls around it just crumbled, and he was able to make his way inside." - One of my favorite fairytales...

Maybe because I love the author. But also maybe because it teaches me that the only way out isn't always through. I've found myself using that saying more than once over the past few weeks, and I'm starting to rethink it.

It wasn't a straight shot from there to here. And as I get closer and closer to My Full 180, I'm actually thankful for all the highs and lows, because the lows make the highs that much sweeter. You just have to hold your breath until you see the light at the end of the tunnel. Or break down the walls around it.

Some notes about what my new training regime has consisted of (which all unsurprisingly involve food):

• Last Sunday, I ran to Red Hook, ate a key lime pie on a stick, did a wine tasting, and ran back. I tried to convince myself this was the modern day "run before the run." Have you ever tried the "run, drink, run"? 
• Last week, I ate approximately one pound of pasta colored with neon food dye (see Exhibit A), because I loved the look of it way too much to throw it out.  My annual blood work was conveniently scheduled that same week. Funny thing is, my cholesterol has never been better.
• Friday I had a porkchop that tasted like a slab of applewood (FYI this is not a spice) bacon. It was floating on a bed of spaghetti squash that I can only liken to the hair of a cherub. Or Handy Nasty rice fluffed by the mouth of God. 
• Yesterday, I had two bowls of Cocoa Puffs in the Lounge right before I went to bed... with 2% milk. Things are getting WILD. 

Oh yeah, and I've never been happier.

EXHIBIT A

Begin Again

"Don't you know you could have anything you want in life? You've only got to want it bad enough... Do you want it?!"

Those are the last words Regis Philbin heard his Sergeant say before he started his career in television. And those will be the last words I tell myself as I cross that finish line in less than a month.

Tonight closed out a groundbreaking week for "my full 180." Not only did I have the pleasure of meeting one of the most legendary NBC Pages of all time and celebrating the NBC Page Program's 80th Anniversary with some of the greatest people 30 Rock has ever (in)bred, but I took a moment to step back from the wackiness of life and realize what is going on here...

1. T minus 30 days until race time!
2. The end of summer.
3. The beginning of my new life. 

30 DAYS IN SEPTEMBER
9/25 - I'm not going to lie, I fell off the training wagon a little. I find myself reading more articles about running than actually running. I never got around to buying that foam roller. I missed a group run at my five year college reunion because I was hungover. I haven't flossed my feet! How do I taper my training 3-4 weeks out, when I'm less than four weeks out and have never run 3/4 of my final distance? The sun rises later and sets earlier, so there's no way with my 8-7 job to ever see/run in the light of day again. The temperature is so cold at 5am I have to thaw my arms to get my sports bra on. I put my long-sleeve Under Armour on to make the first mile bearable, and then I want to burn it two miles in when I'm sweating my ass off. A few times I actually would have thrown it out on the side of the street if it didn't cost more than my non-subscription to Netflix. And today when I was being chased by two raccoons (NOCTURNAL creatures), I prayed for the good old days when dodging pigeons was a minor inconvenience. It's crunch time.

SO LONG SWEET SUMMER
9/22 - The Autumnal Equinox. It only happens twice a year, when the plane of the Earth's equator passes the center of the Sun. At this time the tilt of the Earth's axis is neither away nor towards the Sun. Night and day are about equal length, a perfect balance.* And I can say for certain that this weekend I finally found my balance. Most people are sad to see summer go, but I welcome Fall with open arms. PSLs (Pumpkin Spice Lattes), Pumpkin Spice Pepperidge Farm Swirl loaves, fall foliage, sweater weather, homecoming. It's also the time to look back on our favorite summer memories, maybe our favorite Summer Songs. For me it was the summer we found each other...

BEGIN AGAIN
9/19 - It worked. It was a long journey, it still is a journey, but the awkward girl let go. And boy, did she let in someone good (#4). The significance here is so much more than a Facebook status change or a title (that I couldn't be more excited or feel more lucky about, by the way). It's a reminder to anyone that has loved and lost that you can begin again. It doesn't have to be a significant other. It could be a loved one, a job, a hot dog torta that isn't on the menu anymore... but eventually when you learn to let go you make the necessary room in your life for something better. I know there are no words that people can tell you when you are in that dark place to make the pain go away, but hopefully you can chalk this blog up as just another testimonial that it (this) too shall pass.

So don't you know you can have anything you want in life? You just have to want it, like Regis.

*SOURCE: Wikipedia.com 

Running Through Rainbows

The Color Run. Color Me Rad. Run or Dye. Pigment Prance. Hue Hustle... OK, I made a few of those up. But you get the point.

No matter how over-saturated the "group run" market gets, I do believe that all of these small races have a big purpose. Whether running from zombies or sliding in foam, they make the non-runner in all of us think twice about starting to move. And that's all that matters.

Last weekend I "ran" in the Happiest 5k on the Planet.

Four best friends of all different athletic abilities sticking together. Just like the artificial coloring to my elbow pit sweat. Running through rainbows, intaking so much dye through every orifice of their bodies that their snot would be green for days (I liked it - it tasted like pancake mix), and crossing the finish line holding hands. Having so much fun doing it that they actually start thinking about the 2014 race on the debrief home. That's what group running is all about.

People ask me all the time if I like running yet. I used to think that one day a switch would be turned on in my body short-circuiting me to love running. But the truth is, I don't think we are all programmed that way. I've never once chosen a run over scooping an unnecessarily offensive amount of spinach dip on a tortilla chip or playing wheels with my nephew. What I do like about running though is what it does to me as a person. The discipline, the routine, the progression, the results. Don't get me wrong, you can make it easier. I've tried to watch foods where I can and say NO to happy hours more frequently than I used to, but you don't have to change yourself completely to be a runner.

Running, on the other hand, has changed me. It gives me something to focus on when I feel lost. It gives me something to look forward to when I am lonely. It brought me closer to my friends and family (you should have heard how me running became the talk of the town at a family BBQ this weekend - what SCANDAL!). And it continues to bring me closer to someone who is very important to me...  I'm telling you, you haven't lived until you've sprinted through a radar detector exclamation point.

Happy 50 Days!

Hugs and Quiches

If you would have asked me at 10 years old where I would be at 27, other than saying "on Broadway" (oops), I definitely would have said married with kids. I had a plan for these sorts of things, and I'm way off schedule.

And if you would have asked me at 10 years old if I would ever be training for a half marathon to start my life over again at 27 (let's assume I knew what a half marathon was at 10 years old), I would say HELL NO. I had crayon wars to think about, books to read for CARP, and many meatballs to consume. Honestly, I would have said HELL NO at 26, too.

So there you have it. The moral of the story here is not to distrust your 10-year-old self. It's the bigger picture - that sometimes life throws you curve balls. Things you can't always predict will happen, but you have to genuinely believe were meant to happen for a reason.

Not everything in life is linear like this painfully relatable, grossly realistic list of the 26 Stages of Taking Up Running. And even then, I'm torn between 23 and 24, and forever fixated on 21 because you might mistake my foot x-rays for the claws of a jacana. I may or may not be able to walk on lily pads...

So, stuff got real in my last post. Then I fell off the blogosphere for a few weeks. But the good thing is I was busy doing things that made me happy. Developing an addiction for horse racing, going on vacation with my godson (ironically to Hersheypark - uh oh, that place is hilly!), lots of good music, a perfect wedding, doubleheader tapas and margs (with my 5-year NYC crew), a long overdue home GRUNCH, a scenic tour of a rebuilt city #STTS (you're welcome), and a solid 4.5 mile group run...

And amongst all of that pure joy, I actually opened myself up to someone else for the first time in a long time. Someone patient and kind that I will be forever grateful for. Someone I may have been resisting for being too far, but I've also let closest to my heart. But more to come on that, I've still got 60 days ;)

Forget plans, just enjoy your hugs and quiches... YOLO.

Rapid Fermentation

My apartment smells like Jolly Ranchers.

That's not necessarily a good thing. You see, tonight I was "shaking well" some delicious V8 V-Fusion goodness, when... POP!

Not only did I scream as if I was watching a red wedding and my heart skip a few beats, but there was Acai Mixed Berry something EVERYWHERE. And then I go through the Kübler-Ross five stages of grief in approximately 30 seconds:

1. DENIAL: What the F just happened?!
2. ANGER: I'm going to sue Campbell Foods.
3. BARGAINING: What if the bottle was facing my eye?
4. DEPRESSION: This isn't going to clean itself up.
5. ACCEPTANCE: Life goes on. 

I've got a lot going on in my life right now. No more than a lot of other people, most likely less. I've always had a problem dealing with stress, but the one thing I lose sight of in a sharknado (yes, when it rains, it pours sharks in my life), is that I always make it through. Life goes on.

Running has been a GREAT stress relief for me. Yesterday, when I was thinking about an impending job move and debt and coordinating transportation to a funeral, I decided to just run.  And 30 minutes is all you need. There's nothing like pounding the pavement to shake off the feeling you might have been poisoned.

-----------------------

8/1/2013

Today is one year from the day I left him. Another setback for the 180, seeing that I actually went a complete full circle... the funeral mass happened to be in the one place I haven't set foot in for exactly one year. Borough Park.

Borough Park was an interesting coordinate in the map of my life. Moving in was the most exciting thing I've ever done. I'll never forget searching for apartments together, or the signing of the lease that I thought was with my roommate for life. I would come home to him sweeping with a huge, goofy smile on his face, just because he "wanted to keep the place nice for us." And I would go grocery shopping and easily drop $100 to supplement the pounds of meat he would consume, yet finally felt fulfilled because I was capable of taking care of someone. But it didn't take long after the custom-ordered couch and wood panel blinds were delivered that the rose colored glasses turned to defective transition lenses.

And each day after that continued to suck the life out of me until I had nothing to look forward to on my walk of shame back to our place but the marble countertops. I call it the walk of shame, because I had to literally walk back with my head down since I couldn't make eye contact with any of my neighbors. I was trapped in a cultural divide, as he was sucked into the zombie land of his profession. I had more cabinets than things to store in them, but my heart was bursting. I was a Stretch Armstrong reaching further than my arms could possibly extend, and he was a rare Quackers (without wings) Beanie Baby with a tag protector that I could never touch.

So yeah, today sucked. But every day is a realization that I am better now than I was before. I mean - if you like it, than you should have put an onion ring on it...

"I am better than I was yesterday, but not as good as I will be tomorrow." - UNKNOWN

Run Before the Run

Yesterday marked the first of many races in my new life as a runner.

New York City had been experiencing a heat wave, but the temperature broke to a nice, comfortable... HOT AS HELL 80-degrees at Queens Flushing Meadows Corona Park for the NYRR 5-Borough Series: Queens 10K.

The most important takeaway from this post is that I finished the race. I wasn't doing it for the time, but I'm satisfied with my overall 01:06:23 (10:42 pace over 6.2 miles). Especially considering the way I was feeling one hour, six minutes, and twenty-three seconds earlier.

Let's recap, shall we?

"I'm nauseous." I kept repeating it over and over, as if the amazingly tolerant group of people I was running with might not have heard me the seventh or eighth time. It didn't help that our driver circled around the park twice before he dropped us off (he was never in Queens before), or the fact that I didn't have enough cash on me for the ride because I was in full-on panic mode getting ready at 6am that morning. I'm pretty sure the nausea settled in because I had no idea what to expect when I entered the sea of runners at the starting line, their rippling quad and calf and other muscles I've never seen before flexing in and out in one collective movement disabling my every ability to act like a human being. Was I late? Why are people running? Why is that girl doing jumping jacks on the line for the bathroom? Why is that man doing deep, deep-seated squats? Apparently, I wasn't prepared for the run before the run. WTF. I was having enough anxiety pinning my bib to my shirt in the correct position.

But when I finally got some stretching in and a few sport beans in my system, when I finally found my way to the brown corral (which is just a nicer way of saying slow runners), and when I finally hit the ground running (literally)... I found my groove. It wasn't until mile 5 that a little demon child sprouted from my belly like a scene from Alien. Or more accurately, I felt something like a blobfish. "I can't go left. I can't go right. I can't avoid people anymore. I'm just floating." But I powered through.

Here are my lessons learned (in no particular order) for first-time race runners:

1. Hydration belts are not an invitation to grab yourself a drink from a passing runner. 
2. You do not need to remove a sweatband from your wrist in order to use it. 
3. People will not understand why you are cursing off Flo from Progressive or Ben Benson Hynundai if they don't know you are listening to Spotify. 
4. At hydration stations, don't pour your cup of water over your head if you are wearing an arm band containing your smartphone.
5. Just because there's mud on the course, does not mean you signed up for a mud run. 
6. Do not sprint to the finish line... unless you actually see it.
7. Do not mess with the power walkers. 
8. You may or may not be offered a bag of "hungry size" pretzels at the end of the race, which are magically delicious/endless. 
9. Walking through Queens Flushing Meadows Corona Park is the quicker way to get to the Lemon Ice King of Corona (and no, Kevin James will not always be there with Leah Remini).

And most importantly... 

1. Professional photos will be taken throughout the race. Make sure you don't look like an aye-aye. Here's one of mine I just ordered from marathonfoto.com. Anyone want a copy? 

So, long story short - I have quite the way to go to being ready for this half marathon. Simply put, double the distance means double the training. But I'm halfway there, and I'm happy with my progress so far. 3 months ago I never in a million years would have thought I would be able to run 6 miles uninterrupted. If I can do it, so can you! Aye-aye!

A Pleasant Prospect

Happy 100 Days! 

Back in college, 100 days was a big milestone. Looking back now, I'm not quite sure why I was celebrating 100 days left until going to live back at home with my parents (and amazing sister, but let's be real, the "Lounge" wasn't built yet), no job, no money, no flex points, and no red doors of opportunity... but nonetheless, it was a reason at the time to celebrate.

Well, I couldn't have asked for a better observance today. A 4-mile run around the outer loop at Prospect Park, perfectly timed to coincide with the Belle & Sebastian concert at the Celebrate Brooklyn! music festival in the Prospect Park bandshell. Here's a treasure map for reference:

And because all the stars are aligned with the lightning bugs in July, what's the song that's playing as I roll up to the bandshell at the end of my loop? How about The Stars of Track and Field. Let's not over-analyze the fact that this song may or may not be about a lesbian who sleeps her way to college. What about the sheer motivation in making sure my training isn't just the same emptiness that girl felt?

So, GUT CHECK. Let's go back to the reason I started this journey. Is it "working"? Hmmm. Is it easier? Sure. Did I let go of the man? Nope. It still hurts, almost every day. Constant reminders on the streets don't help. I'm coming up on a really big anniversary at the end of this month. One year since the day I walked away from that situation... physically. Emotionally is a different story.

But before you (I) give up hope, what I can say is this. Each run is so much more than getting from Point A to Point B to me now. It's a reminder that I am capable of moving forward. And what a wonderfully exhilarating feeling that is. I don't think I could have set a better goal for myself. I can't thank the people in my life right now enough for being so supportive of me. And that finish line is not going anywhere. So I'll keep running until I find it...

Some would even say, this is what dreams are made of.

HardCORE

I've been joking to a few people recently that I feel like spaghetti. Let's not get caught up in the actual shape here... I'm talking about a heaping pile of soggy starch. Like I have zero muscle content, and at any moment two dogs are going to suck me into a slobbery kiss.

I want to be al dente!

And as it turns out, a little love to my core would also help me on the track. According to Active:

Think of your body like a car. If you put a Ferrari engine (your lungs and heart) in the chassis of a compact economy car (your muscles, ligaments and bones), what's going to happen?

So after I googled the word chassis, and thanks to one of my biggest inspirations on this journey, I decided it was time to go to bootcamp. It wasn't my first gym class. I've experienced my fair share of "Butts & Guts" and "Total Body Sculpt", but this one was different. I don't even know the actual name, but I'm going to call it "Sweat Your Ass Off, You F'n Weakling".  I was supremely frustrated with myself. I knew my strengths (the cardio), and I got to intimately know my weaknesses (everything else). It was a wake up call that I need to keep working on my core, because without a core, I'm just a noodle. And I should be doing everything I can to prevent injuries and delay fatigue as I start approaching these longer runs.

And because I want you all to know that I am human (and I'm not a changed woman yet), bootcamp was followed the next day by a shameful dinner at Guy's American Kitchen & Bar in Times Square.

Let it be on the record though that while it was "shameful" because I'm supposed to be training for a half marathon and not shocking my body with fat and sodium, I'm NOT knocking Guy's eats. We've all read the NY Times review. Even people who don't live in New York City or know how to pronounce his last name have read it. I don't know why I'm feeling particularly anti-Pete Wells today, or why I'm defending Guy Fieri like he's family (who knows), but I hate this review for a couple of reasons: 1) I can't get past the rotting pumpkin featured in the cover photo, and 2) Who talks in ALL questions like that?

So here's my retort to the review (because I'm pretty sure Mr. Wells is following my blog):

Were you really expecting anything different from a man whose biggest claim to fame is a show about greasy, fried foods? Is there really such a thing as too many dips, or maybe we should just pour "ruinous sauces" all over your bland personality?  If I owned Flavor Town, would I even have invited you? And are you as awesome as the "Awesome" Pretzel Chicken Tenders? No.

Funny thing is, there's no spaghetti on the menu.

Beginner's Hurdles

Three things happened this week that took me to the next level in running rockstardom. I'm not talking about breaking records for distance or crushing pace. I'm talking:

1. Group Runs
2. Morning Miles
3. Fanny Packs

All three are attainable, my friends. I'm not sure about sustainable, but I'll report back.

GROUP RUNS

I love people, I really do. But running with them? Before this weekend, I couldn't imagine liking that so much. Picture me sweating bullets while the person next to me indiscreetly stares up at the sky to see if it just started drizzling. Or me panting so hard the person next to me politely adjusts their headphones to omit the background noise. Or me running at such a slow pace that the person "running" with me is really speed walking... backwards, like a tour guide. Well, turns out all of those things were irrational fears of mine. And by the time we hit the ground running at the first occasional Running of the Mules this weekend, I realized I felt comfortable. I could laugh and talk and run, all at the same time. Not to mention having a support system to answer all my awkward running questions. By the way, 25% of us were running commando. 

MORNING MILES

Today marked my first morning run. I set my alarm for 5:30am. Disgusting. Um, this is why I moved to New York - to never see those numbers on my non-iPhone again or hear that painful sound that makes my circadian clock bleed. But once I actually got out the door, it was pleasant. No one is out, except the runners. And as your eyes lock on the uneven sidewalk, you send telepathic thoughts, "Yeah, we're up. We own this block. We built this city with our own two quads..." Or maybe just "I hope I don't fall and break my ankle.  Is this guy going to go right, or do I have to go left? Do I have a wedgie?" Many questions arise. But the real best part about running in the morning is the simple fact that you don't have to again in the afternoon. Or the night. It's like a "Get Out of Jail Free Card" for running even though you already did it. Let's not overlook the fact that I'm still equating running to being in jail. 

FANNY PACKS

Running is not cheap. The registration fees, the tech wardrobe, the gear.. the FANNY PACKS. I always appreciated a good fanny pack. But after someone so generously loaned me theirs over the weekend, I realized why so many people opt to wear the scary blood pressure cuff instead. I guess my hips don't lie when I'm running, because that fanny pack became a second bra every other step. So immediately following the run I made my way back to the running store to purchase an arm band. And my life has never been the same since. Granted it's only been three days, but they've been a pretty solid three days. 

So grab a friend, wake him/her up early, and tighten your fanny pack if it suits your fancy. It's go time.   

Pure Imagination

"If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it. Want to change the world...

...there's nothing to it." - Willy Wonka

Last week I got to meet the man of my dreams - Gene Wilder. Sorry future husband, you will just have to accept me on one condition. I will always love the candy man. And if you happen to be a candy man, there's a 90% chance you are my future husband.

Now I could write pages and pages about Gene Wilder's dramatic (and comedic) genius, but for those of you who know me, Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory has defined my mortal existence. I dream of golden tickets every time I open a chocolate bar. I get scared I'll turn into a blueberry if I chew  gum. I lick wallpaper... um, that's not true. But I did make lickable wallpaper once when I converted my childhood home into a chocolate factory and my best friend drove me around dressed as an Oompa Loompa. Inquire within.

But what I love most about Gene Wilder as Mr. Wonka is how he had a hand in making that character as magical and mysterious as I will always remember him to be. At the event, which also happened to be a book signing for his latest romantic fiction Something to Remember You By, Gene relayed a story about one of his "demands" for taking the part.

"When I make my first entrance, I'd like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp. After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I'm walking on and stands straight up, by itself; but I keep on walking, until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause."

Why did he want Wonka to make this entrance?

Because "from that time on, no one will know if I'm lying or telling the truth." 

Brilliant. And how am I going to relate this back to running? This journey is (hopefully) my most memorable entrance.  I've always wanted to keep people guessing. But I've also always wanted to give people the same faith in pure imagination that Willy Wonka gave me. And how fitting to think that my journey will end (or really just begin) at Hersheypark - one of the most popular chocolate factories in the United States. 

And for those of you who have been wondering where has Gene Wilder been hiding, having not been seen in a movie or on stage in 22 years?

"My agent has tried, but I don't like what I see. There's so much... swearing. And bombs, and fighting, and... swearing. I'd much rather write, drink some tea, give my wife a kiss, and write some more." 

A great man, and a night I will always remember. 

Now hold your breath, make a wish, count to three. Come (run) with me.

Partly Cloudy with a Chance of Progress

Today I installed my air conditioner window unit. You know what that means... summer is coming. As it gets warmer I'm getting more and more fearful of training outdoors. I sweat enough as it is in a temperature controlled environment. My advice to those people who sweat too much when they run: read this, instead of this. I would much rather like to think I'm just losing cute little beads of plasma instead of having hyperhidrosis. 

But before I get ahead of myself, I really couldn't have asked for a more perfect weekend. Let's erase Friday night - I mean, doesn't the sky eventually run out of water?! There really is nothing like a partly cloudy seventy degree day. I'm talking straight up fluffy cumulonimbus. None of that overcast stratus BS.

Or lying on your back in Prospect Park looking up at this with great company...

And running on a partly cloudy seventy degree day? Even better. I almost scared myself today when I chose to go on a run to get rid of Sunday Syndrome instead of staying in to soak in my "Sundays suck" sadness. Who am I?

On a random sidenote (because there really is no other way to sidenote here), I cracked an egg this morning and a chicken fetus came out... like way past the yolk phase. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

And never underestimate the power of Under Armour HeatGear activewear.

[BONUS CAT]

Suffering is Optional

"Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

Say you're running and you start to think, Man this hurts, I can't take it anymore. The hurt part is an unavoidable reality, but whether or not you can stand anymore is up to the runner himself."

Today I had this overwhelming urge to go to Barnes and Noble after work. I love that labyrinth of literature. I didn't have a certain book in mind to purchase, I just knew I couldn't stand one more subway ride home reading AM New York or making to-do lists over and over in my mind while simultaneously thinking about all of the communicable diseases I was going to attract by holding the pole on the train.  I wasn't going to remember to use hand sanitizer, even though I would make a silent pact with myself to start... next ride.

And then I found this:

The back cover (yes, I do judge a book by its cover) reads, "An intimate look at writing, running, and the incredible way they intersect." IDENTITY CRISIS! Am I Haruki Murakami?

And just like Haru (I imagine we would be on a nickname basis if I ever met him), I am creating my own life lessons with each and every run I write about - by actually putting my body in motion and discovering that suffering is optional.

I've got some fun runs scheduled for the next few months to help me train, kiddos. Want to join? And when everyone decides to stop celebrating the most amazing gifts of matrimony and childbirth [to be read with a hint of sarcasm and jealousy], let's go for a run!

Queens 10k - July 21
Color Run NJ - August 31
Electric Run NY - September 28

Set Ups and Setbacks

When I started this blog I never really knew what it would become. I thought maybe it could turn into an outlet for some crazy dating stories (I have plenty), but then I realized I wasn't Andie Anderson from How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, and I wasn't going to find my Matthew McConaughey by writing embarrassing stories about poor guys who don't know how to socialize or are a little too feminine or aren't taller than 5'5". Which let me clarify is FINE if you don't lie about it, but I don't know how you are expecting to hide that little piece of information when I meet you in person... but that's besides the point. Hey, I know I'm no jackpot either.

I'm confused. I have no idea what I want and what I'm looking for. I'm torn everyday about what is fair and unfair in the horrifying world of dating. I make myself sick thinking about who I'm going to hurt and how I'm going to say no to people. I compare every single person to a man who didn't even think twice about me when I walked out the door. I feel broken more times than I feel strong, and I'm incredibly lonely even though you probably couldn't find someone who goes out of their way to constantly surround themselves by as many people as I do.

I also thought this blog could become a training guide for those that are less inclined to running. Then I downloaded a little app called RunKeeper off a tip from my team members. I followed the first three workouts to a science, and missed an important one this weekend because I was too busy galavanting on a pub crawl of Park Slope in the pouring rain to curse off the GoogaMooga gods. Now I've got a cold or "allergies" (does it really make a difference if you want your head to straight up pop off your body either way?), and I'm lying in my bed staring at this little man frozen in full runner's stride over the word MISSED and I'm feeling a little crummy. 

So I guess this is what they call a setback... know anyone you want to set me up with? 

Arch (and People) Support

It's happening. I'm becoming a runner... OK, let's be serious. A very brisk walker.

Earlier this week I made an essential purchase. New "running" shoes. Worthy of a blog post? Well, I got on a treadmill at a store in Brooklyn where they assessed my pronation, and twenty minutes later I was walking out with these bad boys.

Saucony ProGrid Guide 6's - a nice "soft shoe" with arch support, forefoot cushioning, mesh upper body and other features I definitely need, I think...

But as much as I'm mocking myself right now, the one thing I can tell I'm going to really like about this experience is that runners are a supportive community. From the sweet salesgirl who didn't roll her eyes at me when I told her I was running a half marathon but never heard of Brooks before to the Park Slope stranger who saw me carrying my Jack Rabbit bag down 7th Avenue and nodded at me like I was in some secret Midnight Society of runners.

And the next morning I registered for the Hershey Half Marathon in Hershey, PA. I also learned that the pace you put in while registering will determine what corral you are placed in at the starting line. Oops. See you other 14:00 milers at the Chocolate Factory!

180 Degrees of Separation

Last week I invited one of my dearest friends over for dinner.  Don't tell my mom, I was a little rusty. My dishes were all sad metaphors for my life - overcooked. Apparently, I'm over a lot of things. Overworked, overplanned, but not the one thing I wish I was over most... a man.

"You should do something for yourself. Set a goal, and when you reach it, let go of him."

And for the first time, something clicked. I didn't need to just get over him, I needed to let go of him. How? That part wasn't clear yet.

Fast forward to Tuesday. Dinner with some of my favorite Mules. Italian, of course. Catching up on everything from online dating (ugh) to five year anniversaries. What was new?

"We're training for a half marathon this October."

Then, like a slap in the face with a stick of twenty-year old prosciutto, something else became clear to me. This IS my goal. I'm not running away from my past. I'm certainly not going back to where I came from. This is my full 180. 

And because I'm oddly obsessed with countdown clocks these days thanks to another fabulous creature I know, I suddenly was compelled to see how long I had to train...  only to discover there were exactly 180 days left until the half marathon. Now if that doesn't give you goosebumps, I'm calling R. L. Stine to pay you a house visit.

And with chills and without question, I was committed to buying ridiculously overpriced running shoes and starting this blog. 180 days closer to letting go of someone who I used to care about more than myself. I'm excited to share this journey to the finish line with you, thanks for reading!