Well, this is awkward...

Apparently, after running a 5K in the snow, and then getting all whiny and neurotic about the fact that people are judging me at the gym, I...fell off the face of the earth.

Well, really I fell a little off the healthy eating and exercise bandwagon. And by "fell a little" I mean I did a gazelle leap and a double pirouette into the land of sloth and Fritos. It wasn't pretty, and in retrospect, it hasn't even been that much fun. I lie. It has been most excellent. I fell so deeply down the rabbit hole of bad habits that the other day, I went to McDonald's for breakfast, and managed to FORGET that I had gone to McDonald's for breakfast before I even got home. Twenty minutes later my phone rang and I found a surprise Sausage Biscuit in my purse and it was as if the heavens had opened up and Jesus himself gave me a puppy that never needed walking or something.

But in the midst of all that falling, I've had moments of almost-greatness. Near mediocrity, maybe. To whit:

• I ran a Mother's Day 5K. I think that this race is going to become one of my yearly races, because I love the route, and I really love that it's the only race I've ever done by myself. (Two years in a row, at that! Look at me, being all independent and brave and stuff!) 

• I ran a Glow Run with my friend R. Well, okay, I walked. In my defense, my race partner was 7+ months pregnant, and also, I do what I want! 

• I signed up for a half marathon. Clearly, I suffered some sort of psychotic break, but, yeah. April Fool's Half in Atlantic City, here I come! 

• I signed up for the lottery for the Falmouth Road Race in August. I signed up, and I got denied. For the two weeks between sign up and the lottery drawing, I adamantly insisted that I did NOT want to get chosen, no ma'am. Nope. Seven hilly miles in August on Cape Cod? NO THANK YOU. And then I got the "we did not choose you" email and I cried. 

So now, mid July, and I've got a half marathon in something like 8 months and I am not even a little bit ready. I also have promised my friend K (who gallantly waited for me in the snow at the St. Paddy's Day 5K) that I would do a 10K with him and another coworker in November, so, you know, I need to get on that. I joked on twitter the other day that I should have named this blog "Undertraining and Overeating" and now it's time for me to stop living up to that name, and start doing the work to ensure I don't die on the boardwalk. 

Oh, hi there.

So, as it turns out, starting a blog about the treadmill did not actually inspire me to, you know, get on a treadmill. Oops.

The Monday after my race, I was still awfully sore, so I gave myself the day off. And then work got busy. And then, and then, and then. It's a lot easier to break a habit than to make one.

And then last week, I was reading another blog, about the blogger's gym pet peeves. It really bothered me, and it's still under my skin, in the worst kind of way. I hate to say it, but sometimes, other people are a big part of the reason why I don't make the extra effort to go to the gym.

The thing that I think a lot of already fit people don't get, especially people who have always been fit, is that just walking into the gym is a horrifying obstacle course of insecurity for a lot of people.

I spent a lot of time actively working on getting past a lot of my gym insecurities. I reasoned that since I'm not at the gym judging other people, they probably aren't judging me, either. That everyone is there for themselves, and surely, I'm just not that important. The other women in the locker room are just as insecure as I am about being half-naked in front of strangers, so they're too busy trying to get dressed to stare at me and judge my body. Right?

And then I read blogs (and the comments) that complain about things like "You're breathing too hard" and "Seriously? Makeup? AT THE GYM?" I hate that stuff like this affects me, because it really, really shouldn't. But it does.

So now, every night when I think "okay, pack a bag for the gym tomorrow" all I can think in response is, "But you'll just be that girl. That girl who breaths too heavily and makes other people uncomfortable. Or someone will think it's crazy pants that you have makeup on. And all those people who you thought weren't judging you? They are. They judge you and then they go home and blog about how gross you make their gym experience."

A big part of me wants to go back to this blog and add a comment of my own. A lone voice in the crowd of "haha! Yeah! I hate the divas with their makeup! And the heavy breathers suck!" comments. A voice that says "I breathe heavily because this is really hard for me. It's so hard, and you judging me from three machines over just makes it harder. And I have makeup on because I came straight from work, and I never remember to pack the makeup remover wipes, and if I wash my face in the sink with the hand soap, I'm going to break out. I had to choose between working out in makeup, or not working out at all."

The rest of me, though? The rest of me knows that ultimately, none of that matters. The people who judge don't care about if there's a reason behind why those things happen. They just want to use me as a reason to feel better about themselves.

And ultimately, none of that matters, because Random Blogger is not the arbiter of who is allowed to work out at the gym. This is the lesson I need to remember, because at the end of the day, Judgey McStupidFace down there at the end? I'm burning calories whether she likes it or not. There's still hope that I won't always be fat, but I'm pretty sure that girl is always going to be the kind of sucky person who judges other people for breathing heavily at the gym.

I just wish that the people who put themselves out there as encouraging a healthy, active lifestyle would maybe...stop alienating a big part of the population that really needs the encouragement.

As far as my own gym pet peeves? People who don't wipe machines down after they sweat on them. People who stare in the locker room. People who are waaaay too naked for waaaay too long in the locker room. Over-enthusiastic lotion appliers. (Those last two groups have a really disturbing overlap. It is the soundtrack to my nightmares, y'all.) People who look at my treadmill stats and openly scoff. Everyone else? Keep on rockin' on, friends.

Now that I've vented all over you, what are your gym peeves? Or just peeves in general. (Slow walkers who take up entire walkways, anyone?)

Pace Envy

Pace envy. Oh dear God, do I get pace envy.

I'm not fast. I will likely never be fast. It is, in fact, entirely possible that running 5Ks at a 13-minute mile is the best I will ever be able to do. And usually, I'm totally okay with that. Even when I'm running a race, the person I'm competing against is really me, and that nasty voice in my head. 

Except...my friends are fast. They are so much faster than me. And for the most part, I am really happy for them. Because they worked hard to get to where they are, and they deserve every second they shave off of their paces, and I really, really like being a cheerleader from afar when my friends run. 

And then someone will be upset because of how terrible their 5K pace is, and I look it up, and they are nearly twice as fast I am. And I get ugly jealous. The kind of jealous that makes the voice in my head say things like "Well! If he doesn't like that pace, he should just give it to me. I would appreciate a pace like that! He doesn't deserve that pace!" 

So I tell the voice to simmer down. That friend trains hard, a lot harder than I do, and that pace is slower than what they know they're capable of, and their pace has nothing to do with my pace! 

And my inner voice fires back. "Yeah. Because your pace sucks. You are a sucky runner who sucks at running, and you should just never do it again. Because you suck." 

Thank you, inner voice. You're very helpful. Kindly go fuck off. 

Or someone will praise me for what an awesome job I did, while simultaneously bemoaning their own pace. You know, the pace they had that allowed them to finish in time to visit the beer tent, get a banana, and walk back to the 3 mile marker to wait for me? This is the running equivalent of your skinny friend talking about how fat she is, and hastily backtracking when you give her a pointed look. 

In some respects, all I want is to be able to run a race *with* someone. Side by side, urging each other on. But I want to do it without feeling like I'm holding that person back, and right now, that's not really an option. 

The thing about pace envy is that it does serve a purpose. It can be motivational. If I want to shave time off of my own pace, I'm going to have to work for it, just like my fast friends work for their pace. But sitting around and stewing about how someone is faster and it just isn't fair is going to do absolutely nothing to help me. 

And listening to my inner voice is definitely not going to help, because that wench convinces me regularly that I can't run, but I should totally eat my weight in jelly beans. She's not terribly reliable, as it turns out. 

In the meantime, I'll just have to commit myself to working a little harder if I want to be faster, and to remembering the things I have to be grateful for. I can run! Lots of people can't, for various reasons, and I bet they'd want to poke me in the eye if they heard me whine about not being fast enough. And while my pace isn't going to win me any races, it finishes them before the sweep up bus comes along to gather up the stragglers. And at the end of the race, my faster friends are at the finish line, cheering for me. Oh hi there, cheering section! You're all awesome, and let's go get breakfast! 

Race Day

One year ago today, I ran my first 5K. Clear blue skies, the perfect race temperature, and a gentle breeze all combined to make my first race a gorgeous one.

Fast forward to today.

The temperature gauge in my car claimed a crisp 32 degrees when I pulled away from my house. The sky was grey, and there were definitely some ominous clouds on the horizon. As a bonus, the wind picked up nicely while I was waiting on my race buddy outside of the parking garage. When he arrived, he was horrified to realize that I had no hat. Or gloves. Because he's a gentleman, he argued with me the whole way to the starting line about borrowing his gloves, and because I am stubborn, I refused.

We parted ways at the line up, because we have vastly different racing strategies. He likes to start out in a pace group a little faster than his normal pace, because it motivates him to push himself harder. I like to start out with the walkers, because my top goal during any physical activity is "don't die."

So with Alanis blasting in my ear, I crossed the starting line at 4:17. The race course was the same as last year's, and I was determined not to let the hill in the first quarter mile intimidate me like it did last year. I even ran up most of it! After the first mile, the course doubles back on itself for most of the second mile, and it's awfully humbling to pass the half-mile mark while the top runners are already on their way back.

I wound up in a really great bunching this time around. For starters, there were no stroller runners around me, which greatly reduced my chances of getting run over by/tripping over a stroller. Secondly, there were a lot of first time runners, complete with awesome support teams. Friends running backwards to offer encouragement, husbands running sideways, and one amazing team just behind me encouraging their friend with "Come on! Two more miles AND WE GET SUNDAES!" I am fully behind the use of food as a motivating tool.

The first mile felt pretty good, even if I was colder than I have ever willingly been in my life. I managed a pretty respectable 14-minute pace, and found myself abandoning my usual "run for the chorus, walk for the verse" pacing plan. The second mile was a little boring--same route, less to look at, and my playlist threw "Adia" at me. A lovely song, but maybe not a great choice for a running mix. But I totally felt like a real, live, capital R Runner when I managed the water stop without stopping! (And I even hit the garbage can when I tossed my cup. I hate how much litter a race seems to generate.)

The last mile or so goes through downtown, so there were a lot more spectators than in the first two miles, and those spectators were amazing. Running high fives, shouting encouragement, ringing cowbells--a bunch of people got up early and stood out in the cold to cheer us on. And then it started to snow. Right about the time that I realized that the fuzzy stuff in the air was not me having a stroke, a really adorable four-year old rang a cowbell and said "Run fast! Run fast! Almost done!!" so I was too overwhelmed by cute to worry much about the fact that it was snowing.

That hill at the beginning of the race? The thing about hills is that going up them is draining. Going back down them? Terrifying. I fall down on flat ground for no reason. Throw in a hill, running, and slick ground, and I find myself in danger of violating that whole "don't die" goal in a big, dramatic way.  But at the bottom of the hill, we rounded a corner, and there it was. The finish line. Less than a quarter of a mile away. Just past the thee-mile marker, there was my running buddy. Craning his neck, looking for me.

Bless his heart, when he saw me waving like a crazy person, he ran up and fell into step beside me. Now I had my own little encouragement team. "Come on, Anne! Two hundred more yards! You're doing so good. Let's go! There's bananas at the end!" And I found myself running just a little bit faster than I would have if it was just me, because my buddy waited in the snow, and added another tenth of a mile to his own run for the day. No way was I letting him down!

My final chip time was 42:15, and I didn't die. GOALS MET!

And the post-run banana was almost as delicious as the post-run beer, which washed down the complimentary post-run cheesesteak nicely. Then we warmed up at Barnes and Noble, and met friends for a late breakfast. Like I said, I'm in full support of using food as a motivational tool, and I'm not above rewarding myself with bacon.

Do you have any race day strategies? What about post-run rewards?

Let's Talk About Clothes, Baby

One of the biggest hurdles I've faced with this whole "trying to be more active" journey is getting myself dressed. The clothes may not make the girl, but they sure can make the girl more comfortable.

As a big lady, I've had plenty of time to get used to the idea that I can't just run into any old store and pick up an outfit. Shopping for an occasion is a process. Shopping for workout clothes, though, that's an endurance test.

I'll just get this out of the way up front. I'm not looking for the latest fashions, here. I am looking for clothes that do the job I need them to do. Pants and tops that wick away the sweat, don't chafe, and don't get in my way when I'm already struggling enough as it is. I want to be able to run and not constantly worry about if my shirt is riding up, or my pants are falling down, or my boob is about to pop out of my top and smack me in the face. From what I can tell, this is what everyone is looking for in workout clothes, regardless of their size or fitness level.

One would think that the stores that cater to the plus sized crowd would be the logical place to find basic workout wear. Based on the limited floor space given to "active wear" in these stores, and the high percentage of that floor space that is taken up by matching velour hoodies and relaxed fit sweat pants, I can only come to one conclusion: Lane Bryant has a vested interest in keeping me fat. I guess I can see their point. As long as the most active thing I do in any given day is walk from my couch to the fridge to get a refill on my French Onion Dip, they've got a customer for life.

Sporting goods stores, Target, Old Navy, lululemon--I can only gather that these stores are still in denial about the fact that big girls need to get their work out on, too. Some of these stores will sell bigger sizes, but online only. Listen, I don't want to hear another salesperson try to explain this away as a business decision because they can't devote floor space to stuff they won't sell much of. Take out a wall of flip flops, add a "Fat Girl Fit Wear" section, and I promise you'll make money.

So where's a girl to go? Are we really relegated to shopping online for clothes we can't get a sense of before we buy? Playing the endless game of "not in stock" or "cut funny, gotta send it back, and in the meantime, I still don't have a good pair of pants?" Shopping the men's section?

We are not! On the advice of my stepmom, I very reluctantly hit up JC Penney. Where they have actual plus sized active wear. In their actual stores. That you can actually try on. The selection isn't huge, and there are definitely some color schemes that will make you say "Whuck?" but it's a start. As a bonus, the pricing seems about on par with Target, as opposed to Lane Bryant, so you're not going to break the bank there, either.

As for sports bras, if you're a big chested girl, you already know that there are just not that many options out there, especially if you want to be able to try it before you buy it. And if you're just getting started, I hate to say it, but you're going to need help. (Possibly a lot of help. I really should have instituted a buddy system before I tried on that sports bra at the sporting goods store. I thought I was going to have to call in the jaws of life to get me back out.) This is the one area where I would not recommend trying to bargain hunt. Luckily, the nice people at Title Nine have the most comprehensive selection I have ever seen. I happily drove 100 miles round trip to suffer the indignity of getting trussed up by the world's fittest, cutest salesperson, in a dressing room that only had a passing acquaintance with the concept of "privacy" and I'll do it again. The women there knew their stuff, and didn't make me feel like a giant, even as I browsed the racks of XS running skirts.

Where are you shopping? What works for you, and where are you finding it?

Well Hello There

I decided that, rather than flood my facebook status updates with a bunch of rants about how much I hate exercise, why not start a blog? This way, the people who want to laugh with me (or at me, I'm not picky) have the option, and the people who don't want to, don't have to.

So what's this blog going to be about? Knowing me, it'll be about long-winded musings/rants. About my nemesis the treadmill, exercise in general, how much I miss some of the foods I've given up on my quest to fit into clothes sold at regular stores, and anything else that tickles my fancy.

It probably won't be a great place to come and get anything resembling advice about diet, or fitness, because I'm basically the worst person on earth to be doling out that kind of advice. I ran two miles today on the treadmill, and then ate the better part of a box of cookies for dinner, if that gives you any insight into how successful my journey is on any given day.

But if you're ever in the mood for a rant on why people can't be a little less naked in the locker room at the gym, this is so the place for you. (The short version? You can be as naked as you like, but please don't talk to me if your bits are uncovered. And I would really appreciate it if the exuberant lotion appliers of the world would do so in the privacy of the showers.)

There will be swearing, and self-deprecating humor, and some days, just plain old self-deprecation. That's how I roll. If the swearing offends you, I'm sorry. Yes, my mama and daddy know that's how I talk. No, they probably aren't particularly thrilled about it.

If you somehow stumbled over here without already knowing me, I suppose I should introduce myself. I'm Anne, a 30-something, half-Southern single girl living in the suburbs of Chicago. I love books, my cats, the color pink, and napping. I'm a terrible housekeeper, swear like a sailor, and am prone to fits of righteous indignation. I fall down a lot, frequently in public, and often for absolutely no good reason. I have an irrational fear of spiders, and an aversion to eating any meat directly off of a bone. I'm a big fan of making new friends, so feel free to introduce yourself.