I'll be signing autographs this weekend...

...if anyone wants one.

*crickets chirping*

Okay. Fine. Suit yourselves. But when I finally get my Nike sponsorship and move to Oregon to train with the big dogs, you'll all be sorry you missed your chance!

*readers fall out of their chairs with laughter*

Hmph.

Alright, alright, so I'm not exactly a world-famous celebrity like, say, Angelina Jolie or Bob Ross (RIP). But I did make the local newspaper this morning! And I'm on their website too. That's gotta count for something, right? Here's the article, which I would like to emphasize is on the FRONT page of the sports section. If that's not fame, I don't know what is. I'd also like to point out that the very first words of the article happen to be my name.

So, maybe I am on my way to achieving a level fame that rivals Bob Ross'. And maybe you really do want an autograph. It's okay to admit it. Really.

Although, the truth is that the ones who are truly famous are our coaches. They are the ones that make this group happen and push us beyond what we ever thought we could achieve. Never in my wildest dreams would I have done a workout like the one we did last night without the expert guidance (*ahem* torture?) of the FAST coaches.

This workout was - and there's really no other way to put it - evil. Coach Brad has gone so far as to name this workout "The FAST", implying that this workout will become a sort of signature workout for us. This terrifies me to my very core.

I'd like to point out that it was last night that the newspaper photographer came to shoot our group (*pew pew pew!*). And boy did he pick a good one. He easily took a couple hundred photos of us... and only six made it on the website. In those six photos, we looked pretty good (i.e. no puking, no pained grimaces, etc). My theory is that in all the other 194 photos, we looked like death. You will soon understand why when I describe our workout.

Here's the rundown: 1 mile warmup, 2-mile tempo run on track, 1 Hill of Death loop, 2 mile tempo run on track, collapse in a heap on track.

Yes. That's right. The track and the Hill of Death all in the same workout. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I aimed to keep my tempo runs at about a 9:00 pace. It was definitely challenging. The first two miles averaged 8:56. The Hill of Death was brutal. The second two miles averaged 8:48. I was pleased with that. For the final lap of the second two miles, I wasn't sure I would be able to hold onto my pace - I was really tired. But both coaches started running with me. They were crowding around me on the track, with Maggie beside me and Brad behind me. I could see fellow FASTie Cathy ahead of me on the track and I was slowly gaining on her. Coach Brad told me to reel her in. About halfway through the lap, I passed her. I thought I was golden. But in the last 50 yards I heard some commotion behind me and I looked back to find that Cathy had caught back up to me. Not wanting to be outdone, I shifted gears and sprinted toward the finish, filled with a sense of accomplishment. And also a sense of nausea.

And then I collapsed.



Okay, not really. I wanted to collapse. But I managed to remain upright long enough to walk a cooldown lap. To my fellow FASTies who also completed "The FAST" last night, I must give you all big high fives, because that was not easy. Not that FAST ever is easy... but this particular workout was in a league of its own.

Kind of like me. And Bob Ross.

Peace. Love. Train.

You had to be there...

Seriously. You just had to be there. There was so much going on at FAST last night that I am not sure I can adequately capture it all in one lousy blog post. Where do I even begin? Well, at the beginning, I suppose.

And the beginning is a confession: I wasn't even going to go to FAST last night.

*collective gasp from readers*

Yes, yes, I know - how could I even think about missing out on a fun-filled FAST adventure? Well, the heat index was, and I am not making this up, 108°F. ONE HUNDRED AND *insert swear words* EIGHT! I emailed Coach Brad to see if he could tell me what the workout would be so I could go and do it in air-conditioned comfort on the treadmill. He emailed me back and said I would miss out on the newspaper reporter who was coming to do a story on FAST.

Hold the phone.

A chance for fame and glory??? Suddenly 108° didn't seem that bad after all. Surely I could endure a little heatstroke for a moment of fame. I put on one of my cutest running outfits and showed up to the park ready for my big interview.

As it turned out, the reporter showed up sans photographer, so my cute outfit was for naught. But I did get interviewed, and of course I said all sorts of wonderful things about FAST and how it's helped me reach new heights in my running. Apparently the photographer will be showing up to a yet-to-be-determined FAST practice, which means I'll have to always have cute outfits ready to go. This may require some shopping. Pity.

The reporter interviewed several FASTies, and then the coaches sent us off on our workout. The good news: it would be short due to the excessive heat. The bad news: it would involve the Hill of Death. Given the fact that I was sweating buckets just standing around, I was concerned the Hill of Death might live up to its name.

The 2 mile warmup wasn't so awful. Oh, don't get me wrong - it was miserably humid and hot, but at least I was able to maintain forward motion without passing out. I got to the base of the Hill of Death and grabbed a drink of water. Well, more like a half-gallon of water. And then I proceeded to do the Hill Of Death march. I gave a few words of encouragement to fellow FASTies Nikki and Tim, who looked a little uneasy about running the hill (I believe my actual words were "Come on, you pansies!"). Trust me, if you knew Nikki and Tim, you'd understand why this approach works on them. They took off and passed me on the way up the hill. They may be pansies, but they're speedy pansies.

We all finished the Hill of Death successfully. And nobody puked! I could tell Brad was a little bummed about that. After the hill, we were instructed to run a 1-mile pseudo-cooldown... "pseudo" because we were supposed to throw in a couple of pickups, and also because it just wasn't possible to get cool in 108° weather. So the workout ended up being about 3.5 miles which is fairly short for a FAST workout. Believe me, I'm not complaining. And I'm sure the coaches will make up for it soon enough... like Thursday.


After I returned from my cooldown, imagine my surprise when none other than Coach Bekah showed up! She had hip surgery back in June and is just now getting back to weight-bearing activity. Here she is with her good friend, Mr. Crutch. Also pictured are Tim's legs - nice, aren't they?


Bekah has been spending her recovery time watching lots of movies. Not being able to move much and basically being confined to a recliner for weeks and weeks has turned her into quite the movie aficionado. She was telling us about some of the movies she's watched...

And that's when Nikki decided to tell us all about a movie that she recently watched. *insert scary music* I captured most of her description on video, but this is a family blog and I think the subject matter is highly... um... nauseating. So I will simply tell you the name of the movie, and you are free to Google it... or not (and I would highly recommend NOT Googling it - consider yourself warned). It's called The Human Centipede. Nikki launched into a 10-minute narrative describing this movie in painstaking detail. The video footage I took alternates between Nikki's animated description, and the horrified expressions on the faces of the FASTies. But what I found most alarming was that she said, and I quote, "It was like $6.99 on OnDemand and we were like, why is it so expensive? Is it porn? So we totally ordered it!" Interesting. Well I think we all learned something new about Nikki last night. If there is enough demand for it, I may post my video on YouTube. But I will not embed it here.

While we were standing around chatting about exceptionally disturbing movies, Coach Brad made a new friend. See it? There, on his head?


Why it's a cute little butterfly! In true Snow White fashion, Coach Brad can call wildlife to himself with just a song. As you may recall, Coach Brad witnessed the rare pooping deer, which is something that only someone who is truly one with nature could ever experience. Last night was no different, as this butterfly fluttered onto Brad's shoulder, and then onto his hat, and sat there for quite some time. It probably didn't intend to sit on Brad's head for so long, but was weakened by the stench of sweat and Gatorade. Poor thing.

So that was Tuesday night FAST in a nutshell. Whew. I'm exhausted from all this story-telling. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I need to go shopping for more cute running clothes because I have to be ready for the newspaper photographer!

Peace. Love. Train.

There's nothing like the smell of oil refinery during a long run...

It really opens up the sinuses and clears the mind. It also induces gagging and wheezing, but that's beside the point. And really, it makes the run more effective because if you can run well while inhaling noxious petroleum fumes, imagine how well you can run in fresh air!

As I mentioned in my last entry, the hubby and I took a little trip down south to visit family, most notably, our adorable little nephew (more on him later). The town we were in isn't terribly runner-friendly - there are no sidewalks, and the entire town population drives huge pickup trucks at breakneck speeds (I think it's a requirement for getting a driver's license there). Nevertheless, when you gotta run, you gotta run. I make do with the roads I am given.

The last time I did a long run in this town, I made the mistake of wearing my godforsaken water bottle holder, a frustration which made me want to perform Chinese Water Torture on whoever invented it. Although, really, it's not their fault that I have big hips and a small waist. But still, you'd think they could design something for people like me who don't want to wear their water bottle belts just under their chests. Anyway, getting back to the point... In order to avoid having to use that irritating contraption, I decided I would just stash water and Sharkies at my in-laws house, and do short little out-and-back runs from there. It worked well - I was able to get water every 3-4 miles. To keep myself from getting bored, I ran in a different direction each time I left the water stop.

For one leg of the route, I had to run past the beautiful and scenic oil refinery. It was a treat for the eyes and the nose. But as I said earlier, anyone who can run strong while inhaling petroleum gas fumes can certainly run strong in clean air. And since I averaged a 10:33 pace for my 10 methane-scented miles, I would say that holds much promise for a fresh-air run.

I was surprised to come across, during my run, several other runners. It wasn't so much the fact that there were other runners out, but the fact that more than half of them were running on the wrong side of the road. Maybe I should have said something to them. It is, after all, a safety issue and can quite literally be a life-or-death issue.

So, boys and girls, it's time for today's Running Safety Lesson: If you are running on the road, always run facing oncoming traffic! In most of the world, this is the left-hand side of the road. There are, of course, exceptions to this rule, such as running around blind curves, or up a blind hill. But these instances are generally rare. The idea is to be able to see the vehicles that are coming at you, so you can make sure they see you.

So there. I've gotten that off my chest. Be safe out there - you may think you own the road at your blazing 10:33 pace (well, at least that's how I feel at a 10:33 pace), but the truth is, the cars, trucks, SUV's, Hummers and semis own the road and can squash you like a bug.

And now, without further ado, it's time for the Cute Baby Show. I haven't seen my nephew since March, and now he's 8 months old and is like a completely different baby. He's almost twice as big, and much more interactive. He's also a devious little troublemaker. Case in point: he nailed me with a spit-up bomb on Monday morning, forcing me to change my pants. Then, an hour later, I picked him from his nap, and he got me again, forcing me to change my shirt! I had to do a complete wardrobe change before lunchtime! See the photo below for photographic evidence of spit-up bomb #2 - my oh-so-helpful husband took that picture. Note the look of complete and utter pride on that child's goo-covered face.


I'm hoping he'll be past this spit-up phase next time we visit him. Of course, then he'll probably be in a whole new and more worrisome phase - crawling. Not too far behind that will be walking, which inevitably leads to running. And that means time to go shopping for baby running shoes. Do you suppose they perform gait analysis on babies?

Peace. Love. Train.