Race Day Jitters

I raced on Sunday, all by myself.  I didn’t even bring my ipod with me. It was a rough time.  I struggled the first two miles of the 5K. I just couldn’t get my mind into it.

I was, instead, thinking about my oldest, Lincoln. He was supposed to race in the kids fun run.  He had talked of nothing but it all week. He practiced “racing” in the living room everyday, making sure he always beat his little brother. But once we lined up for the race, he broke down. He got stage fright. While all the other kids took off running, mine, hand in hand with me, ran ten feet and stopped, crying and saying he didn’t want to run.

Of course I didn’t make him finish. That would’ve been a huge fight. I scooped him up and walked him to the side. And he cried. He was disappointed in himself. I completely understand. I was just like him. It bums me out because I know all that I missed out on growing up.

So, I was worried about him the entire race But as I rounded that last corner, there he was, cheering me on. So, I finished strong and with a much better time than I had planned on running. And I’m hoping that the smile I had as I finished the race meant something to him. And maybe next time, he’ll finish strong and happy too.

On a different note, I totally rocked the Race Day Tee Shirt. As soon as I gain enough technology education, I’ll get that photo up for all to admire! Right now, it refuses to show up right side up…..I wouldn’t want to confuse your eyes.            (done~ it’s a great picture. ~T)



Cupcakes and … well really, it doesn’t matter after cupcakes.

We had a busy day here so our little blog took the hit.   Sorry for the delay!

My darling friend S bought me gluten free cupcakes from Whole Foods and I almost died with happiness.  I’ll take a photo tomorrow but today, I ate one and a half NO JOKE.  I know, you aren’t really that surprised.  Yeah, I wasn’t either.  Montana totally walked in the door, took one look at them and announced they looked delicious and ate one.  Um…hello?  Gluten free?  Yep.  And delicious.  No love for Montana.  No. Love.

He totally owes me a cupcake.

(I’m having one for breakfast)

Sean and I went on a walk tonight.  Yesterday I rested, unintentionally.  So today my busy day consisted of a brisk walk with Sean and the puppy.  If I went at their normal pace, a leisurely stroll, we’d still be walking.  They love to just wander and enjoy the smells.  Well, Malachi enjoys the smells.  I think Sean just likes to wander.

***This is Malachi several years ago with his cast from surgery on his bum leg***malachi after surgery

***He’s better now, he runs with me and is usually fine.  Just feeling it today***

Me,   I’m goin’ somewhere.  I’m movin’. I love the feeling of moving and my legs ache to move faster.  So when we walk together, he has to speed up and I have to slow down.  We only did a little over two miles but Malachi was feeling it in his bum leg so we cut the walk short.

Michelle owes us a race report from the Superbowl 5k and I suspect she isn’t going to give us one.  They posted photos from it and…well…we all get veto rights and she’s vetoing hers.  She’s always beautiful so whatever, but suffice it to say she is not happy with her photo.  So we don’t get to see her colorful ensemble.  The photographers DID take 857 photos of her darling children, however, so maybe one or two of those will pop up in the next day or so.  Because damn, those kids are cute.

Now, because we were robbed of a good race photo AND a cute kid photo I am enclosing the gratuitous kid photo from my end.  Talk to you tomorrow with more running chat.  ~Teresa




Every once in a while a great deal comes along and this is a GREAT DEAL.

Today only the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon is offering registration for $15*!  Do it!  You won’t regret it AND you will get to hang with us! Because we are gonna be there BABY!



*For this price you do not get a finisher’s medal but you do get the credit for finishing.  If you pay $25 you can have a finishers medal also.

Running on cold cold cold

Okay, so it was a gorgeous day here in Colorado.  And I am not kidding.  But I was freezing from the moment I woke up and I had a killer migraine.  So I huddled and drugged up and hoped I would feel better.  I cleaned and spent the day working on projects (oh my gosh, that dumb basket of leftover Christmas items that was forgotten finally got put away!) and here it was the end of the afternoon and I still had no motivation to go outside.  Ironically, I really really wanted to run.  I was just so COLD.

I finally just bundled up as warm as I could, grabbed my Ipod and phone and told Sean I was heading out.  He asked how far and I said, “I’m doing the loop. So I could do 2…I might do 4…it’s possible I could do 6 if I feel okay.”  I really wanted to do 6.  I must have bundled okay because I immediately felt great.  I ended up dropping my scarf and gloves and as I write this I realize I never went back and got them.  Sonofagun.    Fingerless gloves are hard to find and that scarf has gone with me for a lot of runs.  I’m attached.  *update* Montana has gone to get my scarf and gloves because he is awesomeness.  I love him.


I listened to “Wait wait don’t tell me” while I ran and ended up doing 5 miles.  Again, I have no patience so I really should have learned how to use the Garmin before running with it.  I think I did finally learn it tonight.  After I stopped for like…two freaking minutes (I was caught in my scarf, it was wrapped in my headphones, I bet it was cute to watch.  Like I was being attacked by a bee or something).  So my time for the first half was incredibly  slow. But then I figured it out and now I’m a pickin’ genius.  I’m a Garmin pickin’ genius.  I can push start, pause, resume and stop.

Hopefully tomorrow we’ll get a race report from Miss Michelle. She ran the RunDenver Series Superbowl 5k today.  I missed it as we are a one car family and my car had a prior commitment I didn’t know it had.

Mixed Messages. Thankyouverymuch.

I went to Ross the other day.  I wanted new jeans to wear to work.  I love Fridays just for that reason.  I found a darling pair of Jessica Simpson ‘jeggings’.  This actually gave me a moment of pause so I *gasp* tried them on.  I never ever try things on.  They were a smaller size than I usually wear but really, size is relative.  I own size 4’s and I own size 11’s and right this moment…all those items fit me.  Thank you standardized sizing.  Not.  Oh they were CUTE.  Zipped right up.  Fit like a dream.  Would look SO darling with my little boot/shoes that I live in for comfort.

Here was the problem (do NOT send me hate mail or hate comments.  We are all allowed our issues). I have never loved my thighs.  Even when I was a tiny little 105lbs.  Now I have these little pockets of~how do I say this delicately~ unattractiveness under my butt that screams “Hey there!  Maybe just a couple more pounds to go before the jeggings are a good idea.  Just a kind suggestion!”  Sadness.  I left them at Ross and wore my old jeans to work.

Here it is a few weeks later and I did in fact buy new skinny jeans (note, not jeggings).  I still think they are a tad too tight.  But I tried them on and had a conversation with my husband. (side note: I do not ask my husband if I look fat in things so first I had to explain what the problem was and then I had to ask a man’s opinion).  I explained my dilemna.  He looked at them objectively, “turn around, let me look at your butt”.  Now that we have THAT out of the way… he said it was barely discernible (he is brutally honest) and they looked great on me.

Which led to me thinking of this post.  I can hear women everywhere expressing their outrage at my even having this conversation with myself AND my husband.  Why can’t I accept my body the way it is?  For heavens sake, I’m so small, what is my problem?  I can wear anything I want!

This is clearly the media’s fault.  The media creates the perception of perfection we all feel we have to reach for,  leaving us all feeling inadequate no matter what size we are.

I can easily wear a size 6 and I’m left feeling less than beautiful, less than… well, less than. I will always needing to reach for a better me.  My stomach could be flatter but it’ll never be great because I have my scar from my surgery.  My breasts will never be the full round breasts they were at one time because I gave birth to three beautiful children.  Are the scars my badges of honor?  hm.  They don’t really feel like it. They feel like just more flaws in who I am.  When I look at them, I think, this is what my husband sees.  And it does make me a little sad.  Sad that I don’t just love and accept my body for what it is, yes.  And sad the scars of time and life have changed my body and not the way I would choose it.

Don’t get me wrong, my husband loves me and I know he loves me just the way I am.  But come ON.  You don’t think he’d love perky beautiful round breasts and a flawless long perfect legs?  Wait.  Why am I perpetuating the issue?  Why am I helping to create the beast?  I’m making a point.  I don’t think we can for one minute blame this just on the media.

I am so weary of the population as a whole~ WOMEN IN PARTICULAR~ being such hypocrites as to blame blame blame.   But they are among the first ones to post photos on Facebook of overweight women dressed in a skimpy outfit with a caption “this is so wrong” or “who let her out of the house?” …you get the idea.  If every woman is supposed to EMBRACE her body, ACCEPT her body, LOVE her body then why do we humiliate her on websites that purposely make fun of their bodies and what they are wearing?

When we went out to Jazz the other night there was a woman at the very front of the bar who just got up and danced in front of everyone. She was probably bothering a few people because she was obscuring the view and she wasn’t 5’9″ and a hot blonde.  She didn’t care that she was alone.  She didn’t care that she didn’t look like a model.  I can tell you she was wearing a zip up sweatshirt and “mom” jeans.  She danced like no one was watching.  It made us smile.  Because she obviously was so happy and having such a wonderful time.

Oh to have that level of confidence.  In my next life.







The Day After.

***News Alert***

I think my drugs have kicked in Folks.  And if you think it’s not a big deal, try handling large amounts of cash and complicated transactions  when your customer doesn’t know their account number75% of the time  and your brain sometimes can’t remember your co workers name.

I can’t tell you how normal I felt.  It was fairly awesome.

My goal was 5 miles at the gym and I did in fact run 5 miles.  It felt great.  Unfortunatey, the new machines have been reprogrammed.  And now they shut off at twenty minutes.  TWENTY MINUTES.  *sowrong*  So…this slow runner restarted twice.  I was pretty frustrated by the end and have no photo to show except this quality piece that demonstrates the vast amount of machines we have at our disposal and what appears to be the smallest room.  It’s not really as bad as it looks.006


Remember S?  She tried to kill me in this post.  I decided to risk a night out with her.  Sean and I headed out to Jazz @ Jacks with her and the boyfriend.  Hers, not mine.  Here is a rundown of our evening:

Really loud really amazing Jazz by these guys.  They are called Dotsero.  (So good, we bought a CD)

Round of drinks (to include Diet Coke for me and water for the table..)

More Jazz

Huh.  Irish Car Bomb.  Sure. Let’s all have one of those. (and water and water)

More Jazz.

Better have a chaser. (and water and water)

More Jazz.

A small bet that gets Sean to the dance floor.

Nope. I’m not lyin’.


Betcha thought I was lyin’.

oh. S is DANCING.

Now S is dancing.

oooh.  hm. I wonder if that lady wants to dirty dance with S?

Vodka and Tonic (yep. More water)

More Jazz.

1am.  We shut the place down having danced, used the restroom more times I can count, laughed very very hard.

Dropped S and J off at their house and went to Village Inn for Cheeseburgers and fries.  SO HUNGRY. I could die.

We got home at 2:30.  Best night. So much fun.

I wish there had been chips and salsa and I told Sean I needed ear plugs.  He said, “volume knobs?”. yes.  S said that would be uber sexy.  Whatever.

This morning I woke up early and had this:


Hello Darling.  ~  *note  She is NOT gluten free.  sadness.


Lessons #1

What have I learned this week? To take a rest day after my LSD. (For those non runners, I don’t mean the drug of choice in the early 70s, I mean Long Slow Distance run) Last week, after my five mile run, I did not take a rest day. It was gorgeous out. I felt great. I wanted to run a quick three miles. I made it two. Barely. My legs gave out. I spent the next 36 hours or so feeling run down. I had veered from my training plan and was paying for it.

Yesterday I did a six mile LSD. It went great. I felt a little sore afterwards, but was really pleased with myself. I only had to use the “mantra” a couple times around mile two. I know….mile two.

Today, I felt great. My heart wanted to run. Luckily, my schedule wouldn’t allow it and the windy weather would’ve stopped me if it had. I think I have learned my lesson. Rest days are good after a long run. Momentum busting? Yes. Necessary? Yes, indeed. Here’s hoping for a quick and easy three miles tomorrow.


In case you aren’t counting…

That’s three I’ve officially registered for.

I know you’re thinking…so?

Three is my number of the day.

Three half marathon registrations…done.

Three days without running…done.

Wait.  That’s not good.  🙁

Day one was migraine day.

Day two was MT’s birthday.

Day three was the most miserable day ever.  To INCLUDE stabbing myself with mascara.  LOL.  Good times.

Let’s see what today is all about.  Sean and I are headed downtown with friends to a Jazz club. We’ve been trying to connect with them for a few weeks so it’ll be fun to get out.  Although we don’t socialize so….yeah. This could be good.

*For the record I know full well we were invited solely for the purpose of being their designated drivers.  It’s a good thing I love this friend. 🙂




Why I hate the Diva races and why I’m running it anyway.

So today I did this:

Dear Tess,

Congratulations! You are now registered for Divas Half Marathon & 5K in San Francisco Bay. Please check the event’s official website for updates: http://www.runlikeadiva.com

View your complete registration details »


You are confirmed as a registrant for the 2013 Divas Half Marathon® or 5K in San Francisco Bay! Congratulations for making the commitment to participate in the Divas Half Marathon Series!

Every year my running group (Cupcakes…I know I know.  I had no input) tries to get together for a meetup somewhere in the country.  There are around 30 of us, give or take but I’m not sure anyone actually knows the real count as it fluctuates over the years.  People come and go.

This years meetup was chosen to be in San Francisco, CA. I love San Francisco.  My heart really IS there.  But the Diva races are not my style.  I did one once before in Vail, CO and was completely unimpressed with how the Diva people handled the entire race from set up to tear down and at the time vowed never to run another.

Then I registered and it all came rushing back.

There was NO way to register without telling them if I lived in SF or if I was traveling to the city.  How I was getting there (bus, car, train, flight).  How many were flying with me?  Where would I be staying?  What airline carrier would I be taking?  And you HAVE to have your name on your bib.  It’s mandatory.  Diva something (note to self, take a Sharpie).  I have to wonder if my friends all think I’m overreacting.

Well, there’s not a lot of psychoanalyzing to it  I’m my mother’s daughter. It’s not your business. You can have my name and address, my age and email, emergency contact and my money.  I cannot imagine a reason that would give you the right to DEMAND to know this information versus the other hundreds of races out there that either DON’T ASK or ASK NICELY.  Imagine that.  Ask nicely.  You would be surprised how happy I would be to supply you with information if you just said to me, “hey, could you fill this out for us?  It helps us do this…”.  Instead you have made it mandatory in order to simply register.

Add to this the obvious fact that as a woman I think we have worked really hard to change the image of women FROM ~pink boa wearing/hot men ogling/Diva~  to ~amazing/strong/pushing the limits of greatness women.  Come on Divas.  Get with the program.  Why perpetuate this stereotype.

I am doing this because there are about 15 to 20 women I seriously want to see that weekend.  And now…I am vowing until a change is made I am never running another Diva race.



Diet Coke, my drug of choice

I gave up DIet Coke, in the name of running.  I’m a bit of an addict.  It was easy to give up while pregnant.  But I”ve yet to find anything else worthy of taking away my daily (twice, sometimes three times) diet coke break. But, I’ve noticed that my runs are much better on days I don’t imbibe.

So, I gave it up.  In the name of running. It’s gone pretty well.  I’m five days in.  Saturday, I tried to give in.  I had done my long run and was on my way to spend the evening with friends.  I felt I deserved a treat.  It was Saturday night, time to live it up, right? (I’m pretty sure my college aged self is in disbelief at my current lameness) So, I went through the McDonalds drive thru.  A sure thing to quench my thirst and feed my addiction.

Ah, but as you read, I’m still Diet Coke free.  Yep, because McD’s failed me.  I sat in line for far too long.  I would’ve gotten out of line, but I was really jonesing for that sweet taste of diet coke.  I almost kissed the sweet lady who handed it over. I pulled away with the forbidden fruit in my hands and took that first long delicious sip.

Aaaaaannnnnndddd…..it wasn’t diet.  It was a plain old disgusting, real sugar Coke.  This is a punishable offense.  What an awful trick to play on me.  Why would McDonalds do this to me? The big man upstairs is making me work hard to ruin my streak.

I could have turned around and demanded they fix their mistake.  I could have stopped at the convenience store and filled my own 44 oz plastic cup. I could have cried.

But, I was late for my date and a little bit lazy.  I licked my wounds and moved on with my evening. I was sad then.  but I’m glad someone was watching over me. Because today,  I am five days Diet Coke free, looking forward to day six.


**UPDATE: I fell off the wagon. But it was a diet Pepsi, which is DEFINITLEY not the same thing. Back on track tomorrow!