So when we last left off, things weren't going well. Yours truly had hamstrings that didn't function and shoes that left her thwacking her feet on the cement harder than a jackhammer. First step- aquire new shoes. Thanks to Peninsula Runners and their groovy technique of getting you to run on a treadmill, then watch it back in slo-mo, you get fitted with the shoes your feet need. (It also helps when you tell yourself "I know the pink ones are pretty, but the white ones fit better" over and over.) Watching yourself back in slo-mo is facinating and terrifying. Well, I suppose if you're a good runner, it's not so terrifying. But as we've already established this "good" word is still missing from my running vocabulary.

Next step was aquiring a waist pouch with water bottle. I'll admit, I freely mocked those running with these in the past. Ha! Who needs water on a run! Water is the fuel of fools! *evil laugh* (As I sweat out an entire shaker full of salt.

Together, I thought we'd be good as golden. My magic shoes and my water bottle pouch would send me flying to the front of my running group. Together we'd conquor Everest in just running tights, a singlet and a small bottle of water.

Then we actually did the running clinic.

We ran about 6.5KM. To spare the gory details, let's just say yours truly once got so far behind, she stood at the top of the hill and hoped to see the rest of the group... somewhere. Lost, confused and completely defeated I waited for the one person who was behind me and together we plotted our way back home.

The follow week went so much better.

I seem to naturally gravitate towards running clinics that start from places surrounded by hills. Hills make you faster. Hill make you stronger. Hills are steep. Hills hurt when you run up them. Hills make you stop at the bus shelter "to stretch" and seriously consider handing the bus driver the 5 bucks you've got in your pouch and telling him to just keep going.

Our schedule includes a long run each week. Due to work, I cannot join in on the long runs with the group, so the onus is on me to do them on my own. Last week, the schedule suggested (OK, flat out told) that we were to do 12KM. I'll be honest- I had to stop to walk during this year's TC10K. I only walked for maybe a minute, but it was enough to stay with me in my brain that "12KM is impossible".

The morning of my run didn't start out well. My husband had to get up at 4AM (yes, that time exists) for work. I didn't sleep well because I was paranoid the alarm wouldn't go off. I stayed in bed for several minutes going over all the reasons I shouldn't run. I really should get back to that plan for world peace, y'know...

Next thing I knew, I was standing outside my car at the lake I planned to run around. Stupid world peace was just gonna have to wait. So I ran.

No, I mean, I ran. The whole damn thing. Without stopping. 12 entire kilometers.

Upon realizing what I'd done, instead of hugging a random stranger on the trail (which would have also resulted in me being dragged an extra kilometer as they were all running too), I air punched. I air punched in only a way those on the Jersey Shore and my former work spouse/sometimes running buddy Dave could appreciate.

Armed with my newfound sense of self, I went to my Tuesday night clinic ready to tackle whatever it is we were tackling. Turns out, it was once again, a very large hill. (I should have known when we were told to warm up run to a street starting with the word HILL.) Have you ever sprinted up a hill? Have you ever done it for 2 minutes at a time? I now have. There was no bus shelter. There was no crying. There was no getting lost. There was even barely any stopping to walk. And I'd like to point out- even a couple of the front pack at one point stopped to walk.

So. To that 12KM and to that ugly hill. I say SUCK IT.

Steph's back. And she's gotta brand new water bottle pouch.

Ham Has Strings?

The following is the story of how yours truly learned how the worst run of her life became the best thing to ever happen to her. (Except that time she discovered that running tights are the most comfortable item of clothing she owns.)

Several weeks ago I seriously decided to train for a 1/2 marathon. I seriously decided against it several times after that (mainly around the 8K mark of a 10K race), but signed up for a clinic anyway, which started this past Tuesday.

Tuesday night rolled around. Lovely women of all ages and sizes gathered (oh who are we kidding, we're all young and fit), and set off on a 4K run. Within 1K I was falling behind the pack. Half a block. A block. Two blocks. Up to the panicked where the hell did they go?! stage.

Michael, one of our clinic leaders jogged back (and back and back) until he reached me and asked why we were so far behind. Several sarcastic thoughts swirled around my head like "um, they're running faster that us, like duh buddy." Until he said "they're running the same pace as us."

Dang.

As my feet smacked the pavement, Michael asked me to run ahead of him. As flattering as I thought that was that he wanted to check out my butt, I was crestfallen to learn he was actually studying about one inch down. "Do you know you don't use your hamstrings? Like, at all?"

Oh. Is that... bad?

Apparently so. Hamstrings are those muscles on the back of your thighs. The ones that are supposed to do 50% of the work when you run. Mine have been on permanent vacation (TM Aerosmith). Michael explained that once we fix this tiny little error, my running will vastly improve and I might actually make it 21K without hailing a cab to the finish line. And I might actually not be too shabby of a runner.

That is, once I do these daily exercises to "engage" them, learn to breath properly, loosen up my entire upper body and (I quote) "stop being all up here"- pointing at brain.

So. Should you see a woman running down the street like Pheobe in Friends (arms flailing, legs sprawled all over), hopping like a kangaroo, chanting some sort of postive mantra all which breathing deeply, don't call the men in white coats. I'm supposed to look like that.

Stupid hamstrings.

Welcome To 2011. AKA 1811.

Let me put this out there: I love the TV show SouthLAnd. I haven't loved a show this much since the days I dreamed I would marry Brandon Walsh. No, I don't mean Jason Priestly (although I have since met him, and he's an extremely nice guy), but Brandon Walsh. This was clearly before my bad-boy phase (which lasted all of one crush on a bartender I worked with. He had... a soul patch.)

So. Back to SouthLAnd. Amazing show. Gritty, dirty, real. And in the news a lot lately, not necessarily for the right reasons. In the last episode, a male character was revealed to be gay*, and to say "shit hit the fan" would be a gross understatement. Said shit hit the fan, twirled around, splattered about, re-entered the fan, and repeated the process. People hit the SouthLAnd Facebook page with a feverish pitch to launch their complaints. Straight men ranted the guys-guy cop was suddenly a flaming fairy, and straight women flipped out because the handsome man in a uniform was suddenly unavailable. The amount of posts where people claimed they would never (NEVER!!!!!) watch the show again was staggering. Any attempt to calm the fray was met with sentences that began with "I'm not homophobic, but..." And in my life experience, anytime someone starts a sentence like that, they're about to quantify it with a homophobic statement. It's also in my experience that those people probably won't stop watching- they'll keep watching in the hopes of being offended. It's why some listen to shock jocks, or watch a news station with an opposing view. It's a sick part of the human genetic makeup.

*while it became obvious that this character is gay in this past episode, there's been a slow reveal including a somewhat subtle-read-between-the-lines "coming out" statement in the previous 2 seasons.

The roar has dulled over the past couple of days, but there's been more blogs and Facebook posts about a 10 second scene in a 1-hour show than there has been in the show's entire 3-season run. This is one of the best shows on TV. Ever. Period. And this is what people are chosing to focus on? A small facet of a person that we should realize and understand is no different than a person being blonde. Or having blue eyes. Or being tall. You get my point.

Welcome to 2011. Please tie up your horses outside the canteen, and check your pistols with the sheriff.

If you are a fan of SouthLAnd, TNT has not announced a fourth season yet. Please take a moment to sign the petition to keep this amazing show on the air.

Idle Thumbs...

So one month in to my resolutions. And you thought I forgot, eh? OK, so I kinda did. I meant to blog, but then the bubonic plague hit work, and for some strange reason I felt it better to sit in bed feebly attempting to sleep despite the owl hooting outside my window, than sit at the computer and attempt to be witty. (I know, I'm healthy now and you're still waiting for the wit, aren't you?)

So.

Resolution 1: Blog. Kinda iffy on that. We'll give it a pass. That garbage full of kleenex says it's cool.

Resolution 2: Stop Biting My Nails. You know the saying "idle hands are the devil's plaything"? Well, idle thumbs are Steph's chewtoys. 7/10 fingernails remain absolutely chew-free, so much so I had to find our nail file the other day. And 1 nail actually snagged, I didn't bit it off. But those thumbs... I gotta invest in those Stanley Cup gloves. Serious.

Resolution 3: Run Faster. Kicking ass and so taking names at this one. My running buddy (and all-around fabulous friend) Colleen said to me yesterday "we will DO this 10K and we will look HOT doing it!" I'm vain. I can get behind this. My other absolute all-around fabulous friend Shannon, who shalst not run, but promised me hot Starbucks at the finish line. Motivation. It comes in all forms.

I've also invested in about $200 worth of running "stuff" lately. You know you're getting serious when you can't find any "normal" clothes to wear, but would seriously consider meeting a friend in your sweaty sports bra and running tights because they're just so darn awesome and comfy.

Resolution 4: Binge and Purge. Look, we don't have a lot of stuff. Nor do we have a money tree outside our apartment. (We do however, have an inlet filled with geese, otter, swans, ducks, a field mouse, one very persistant raccoon and an annoying hooting owl.) So I've reduced us down to what we can handle for now. Unfortunately until that money tree pops up, or someone in Ontario stops winning Lotto Max, we're stuck with our furniture bought from a particular big box store that is known for its greeters.

Resolution 5: Read More. I recently finished Portia de Rossi's Unbearable Lightness. I have thankfully never experienced an eating disorder myself, or through anyone I know. This book gives you the low down through Portia's own experience- and it's a dark place. A crazy place. The control it takes over one's mind/body is utterly insane. Very well written, and something I would recommend- especially for women.

Just today, I took out Runners World Guide To Road Racing and The Idiots Guide To Running. No, it's not just putting one foot in front of the other at a speed faster than walking. Hey, I have Starbucks waiting for me at the finish line. I kinda wanna get there as fast as I can, man.

Back... To The Future

Yeah, I realize that starting a blog as a New Year Resolution is about as lame as resolution you can get, and also harks back to 2008. But in my defence, this is actually the 3rd time I've started this particular blog. (Old posts have now been deleted. So move on, nothing to see here. Um, except this new stuff...)

I once heard that if you want to accomplish a goal, you must say it out loud, and let at least 10 people know, so that they can hold you accountable. So, I just need about 9 more people to read this blog, and we're golden.

Without further delay- I present you with Back To The Future. Steph 2011.

RESOLUTION 1: Blog

Cool. That was easy.

RESOLUTION 2: Stop biting my nails

I have been threatened with little white cotton gloves, which I would be forced to wear daily. As awesome as I think it would be to pretend I'm the one who carts around the Stanley Cup, I think people might notice a: there's no large cup and b: the guy who carts around the Stanley Cup doesn't gnaw at his gloves like a rabid hyenna.

RESOLUTION 3: Run Faster

I ran a 10K last year with a very blase "I donno, finish in an hour?" as a goal. Well, I finished in an hour. This year, 55 minutes.

BONUS: I joined a proper training clinic for the 10K in May. And bought new sneakers on Boxing Day. I should be kicking Simon Whitfield's ass any day now.

RESOLUTION 4: Binge and Purge

Get your knickers out of a bunch. I'm not condoning eating disorders. I simply aim to binge on the items I already own, and purge those that aren't necessary.

BONUS: I already emptied out the linen closet and bedroom closet of old/ill fitting items. I turned all my hanger-used items around, and after 6 months, whatever isn't turned around the other way is gone.

RESOLUTION 5: Read More

It doesn't matter if it's an autobiogrpahy by Keith Richards (which I am totally getting from the library once the rest of the population finishes with it), or a tear-jerking tail of life and death. I wanna read it. 1 book a week.

BONUS: Will finish Michael J. Fox's A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To the Future tonight.
BONUS x2: First blog post relates to this book, famous trilogy by MJF.
BONUS x3: MJF went to my elementary school. BOOYA.

Now, go tell 2 of your friends, who will tell 2 of their friends, and so on and so on... about this nutty chick whose blog you read. Maybe they'll come read it to. Hopefully 1 of you will remember to scream "GET THAT THUMB OUTTA YOUR PIEHOLE!" as I run by, book in hand.