Skip to main content

I am seriously inspired by this woman

From Runner's World:

Is it possible to be fat and fit? At 250 pounds, distance runner Mirna Valerio provides an inspiring example.

So, she's about my age and about my size -- yes, I know those two things are not the complete measure of a person -- and she LOVES running.  She is a serious ultra-runner, fast, and a high school track coach. She takes a selfie before every run, a practice I would like to start because it is worth documenting.

It was about a year ago I started this running habit. I scheduled my first run for a weekend in September so Nick could go with me. I needed moral support. I have learned over and over this year that there are many runners like me out there. I want to know all of them!

My half marathon training is going great. Running in August in Texas is a son of a B, but I'm doing it so I can appreciate how awesome September, October, and November will feel in comparison. Mamie is excellent company on my runs; she keeps me alert by periodically tossing her cup or stuffed animal out of the stroller. Pushing her around is making me stronger too.

It is still a little hard to imagine I will go from my current running level to finishing 13.1 in three and a half months, but I'm on track, so I have to believe it will happen.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

On the topic of stuff I don't want to do: Cook dinner

Saturday night I tried really hard to get out of cooking dinner. No, I'm not perpetually steam-drenched, hunched over the stove every night, just looking for one night off. I have just about every night off because Nick cooks most of the time, and when it's my turn, I tap into my arsenal of delivery services.

This is not how my mama raised me.

Saturday night, I did, very begrudgingly, grate carrots and sauté bokchoy and glaze chicken. Nick said, "You don't seem to like cooking." But... but... but, I wanted to defend myself, I know how to cook; I used to cook; I used to like cooking.

Things change.

For example, kids. Feeding kids for the last 4.5 years has consumed me, no apology for the pun. My obsession with managing their growth and nutrition is totally separate from cooking. It's a mental tally of macronutrients and micronutrients; it's creating the perfect veggie snack plate with every cucumber slice salted; it's composing and blending superfood sm…

On not waiting for the perfect time

When I got pregnant the second time, I was waiting for that stage to end before I would live my life. Exercise, activities with kids, travel, writing, house projects... Then after the Lizzie came and things were so complicated, I still found myself waiting until she was older, waiting to get out of tangle of doctor appointments.  Then I was planning to start life after both kids were in school, at least three years away! Enough!  Anything I want to do can be adapted to start now, incorporating the kids and whatever challenges we face in our plans.  Some dreams may be better suited for the future, but there will be no more blanket attitude of putting things off for later when it would presumably be easier or less busy. 
There is no perfect time, but the best time could be now.

Milestones, I curse you with the foulest language!

I just created a document to list the words I've heard Lizzie say. I count 14, but I haven't consulted with Nick or her grandparents to see if I've missed any. I'm doing this homework so when people question me about her development, I can say assuredly whether or not she is meeting her milestones. This week I was ashamed to not know whether she typically leads with her right or left foot, or if she often kneels while playing, and if so, are her hips bent or straight? What direction does the third finger on her left hand point while she lays in bed on the night of a full moon? There are so many things I didn't realize I should be noticing.

I hate all those stupid f**king lists of milestones. I can't articulate it any better than that.

So many nagging lists of things a child "should" be doing. I think "should" implies some moral imperative or an obligation to meet external expectations, and I swear the word doesn't apply to a baby.

That s…