Every Girl Wants Some

Being a runner brings a lot of perks. You get to eat whatever you want. You get to climb the stairs without huffing and puffing like your office mates.  There's really nothing sexier than a razor-back tan line.  You usually have a rockin' hot bod.

I consider my legs my best features.  I inherited my dad's thighs and I'm not afraid to say that it's a little creepy how similar they look. But nonetheless, they serve their purpose and get me through those awesomely fantastic hill repeats. And now, since I've become a barefoot runner, my calves have become nice and defined. They look like those attached to women who have worn heels all of their lives -- fortunately for me, I don't have the pain that they do.

But everyone wants the grass that's on the other side of the fence.  So, here's what I'm envious of...

No, I don't want to have Michelle Obama's fabulous fashion sense or Sarah Jessica Parker's super-cute do or Kelly Ripa's gorgeous smile.

I want their arms.

Yup, I said it. Mock me all you want. But I'm envious of their extremely toned and svelte arms.

I've always had twig arms.  Arms that could easily be snapped if twisted or turned the wrong way.  Please no one get any ideas now.

I am going to a big convention/party/black-tie dinner at the end of May, so my goal is to work on my arms as much as possible to see if I can hold a candle to Michelle.  I wanna look good in that strappy dress, dang it!

I was once watching "Live with Regis & Kelly" and Kelly swore on her life that she got those arms by doing this one exercise (ok, and having a personal trainer and countless hours to workout doesn't harm anything either).  She said to take a can of soup and while standing, "write" out the alphabet in the air with the can of soup.  So, you'd hold out your arms and make the motions to create each letter.  I've started to do that with 5 lb. dumbells and let me tell you...it's a burner.  Every muscle in your arms are being worked and by W, you hate that the alphabet has 26 letters.

Anyways, here's to women who have arms that I want. Hopefully with a good two months of work, I'll be able to be proud of my biceps and not feel like they've been drawn onto my body by a five-year-old in art class. They should take a page from my leg book....now those are beauts.

What Is Truly Important

It's so easy to get caught up in the daily running and training grind.  Getting up in the darkness after a late night before and the struggle it is to lace up the shoes (oh, wait, I don't wear any).  It all becomes second nature and at points, boring.  In short, we take for granted the fact that we can run at all.

A friend sent this article to me today.  It tells a story about a true friendship between two Army Rangers.  One, Lance Vogeler, died while in his 12th deployment.  The other, Andrew Wallace, was Sonic the Hedgehog to Lance's Tails.  They had deployed and lived together many a time.  And now, after losing his best friend in life and on the battlefield, Andrew is taking matters into his own hands to help support Lance's family (a wife and three children, one who never met Lance).  He's pledged to run the Boston Marathon barefoot.  Andrew is running, in collaboration with the Special Operations Warrior Foundation, to raise $30,000 for Lance's kid's college educations.  And he's going at it without shoes.  How inspiring!

For me, this story was important because it put a face on an otherwise faceless war that we at home know very little about.  Sure, it made me feel good that I'm not the only crazy person out there running barefoot.  But it's about so much more than that.  It is about realizing that people just like us -- who obsess over seconds gained or seconds lost on a training loop and the newest GU flavor -- risk their lives so I can obsess over those seconds lost (hopefully) whenever I want.  I can do what I love to do because they do what they do. 

Taking a second and thinking about what is truly important -- freedom -- is all I'm asking.  Think about that when you go out on your run today.  Think about what it means to be able to step out onto the street without worrying about whether you'll make it back to your house in one piece.

Note: I wrote this post earlier and as I was driving home, I had several other thoughts that I wanted to put down.  Hopefully you'll read a little bit more...

Although I consider myself a journalist at heart and a fairly knowledgeable person on culture, events and news, I am guilty of not knowing much about either the Iraq or Afghanistan wars. I can count on one hand the people I know who are in the armed services - none of them have died.  I personally have no connection whatsoever to war.  Yes, both of my grandpas served, but it was never a big talking point.  Now, as we find the U.S. engulfed in drawn-out conflicts, I wish that I had talked to either one of them about what it was like to serve and what their thoughts were on the situations we are now facing.

Should the media have reported more? Why didn't their embedded journalism and overseas reports bring the war to my front door?  Could they have told a different story that would have made this all more real to me?  Or would I have still chosen to gloss over it and move on to the next story?  Hard to say.  And I don't like placing blame outside myself.

I know war is very political, and my mother always told me that the three things you never bring up amongst friends is salary, religion and politics.  But politics and religion fuel war and hate and misunderstanding.  The two are intertwined to a point that they become hard to distinguish and separate out.  I'm neither Left nor Right...I hate when most people sit on the fence, but that's where I often find myself on politically-and emotionally-charged issues.  I don't feel that war is necessary and believe there are other means to go about changing the world.  But I do support the soldiers and what they do.  It boggles my mind that people would picket outside a soldier's funeral, holding up signs that say "Thank God for dead soldiers" and "You're going to hell."  Where has the common decency of the human race gone?  That's another topic and issue on it's own, though...

What I'm trying to say is that war is such a huge thing that I have a hard time trying to wrap my head around it.  I'm not cutting myself slack nor am I saying it's right. It is a place, a mind-set, a belief, a current event, a THING that I don't fully understand.  I'm hoping, though, to educate myself about war and really ask, what is it good for?

Likes long runs on the beach

I saw something the other day that I wanted so badly.  No, it wasn't compression socks.  Or the latest running gear.  Or even a really, really big burger after a really, really long run (although, now that you mention it...).

No, it was a couple running with a jogging stroller that was carrying a cute little baby curled up inside.  The kicker to my gut - they were running TOGETHER.  It was a family outing.  Not to the store or to Chuck E. Cheese.  But out and about on a Sunday morning run.  The mom & dad were talking as they pushed the stroller.  I imagined them discussing the cute thing the baby had done, or whose turn it was to cook dinner that night.  Or maybe they were just talking about how much they loved each other.

Having someone share what I love so much has become an increasingly important piece in what I search for in a man.  Is he active, first of all?  But more importantly, does he get up before the sun and shimmy into shorts & tennies (do guys shimmy?)?  Does he understand my need for 100 water bottles around the house? Does he want to share my Stick and foam roller or does he laugh at how silly they look piled in the corner of my bedroom?

I'm not looking for a 2:15 marathoner or someone who is an ultra-running freak.  I just want someone to truly understand what it means to be a runner: he joys of the sport, the down-in-the-dumps moments that are inevitable, the early nights (and mornings), the understanding of a mind turning on itself and the increasing fascination with GU.

I believe he's out there.  Somewhere.  So, calling all single runners...

Making Friends In the Early A.M.

At 5:45 am, Redondo Beach is anything but quiet.  Cars start slowly peeking out of garages, prepping for long commutes.  Brave cyclists bust out the bright headlights and cold-weather gear to combat the stinging wind chill.  Cops slowly cruise around the neighborhoods, waiting to catch...anything?  And then, of course, there are the runners.  Those early-to-bed, early-to-rise folks.  I was one of them this morning, and I'm so glad I did.  Not only because I got a workout in and was able to watch the orange and pink sunrise from the top of the hill, but because I made a running friend.

I don't know his name, but I do know his age...63.  We met at a corner as we waited for the walk sign to beckon us to the other side.  The first words out of his mouth: "Are you training for the L.A. Marathon?"  I chuckled to myself, because I had been sizing him up as we made our way down the hill to the intersection.  He was wearing a reflective vest, a knit cap very similar to the one my grandpa used to sleep in and had on sweats.  I pegged him for a "jogger."  I know, I know.  It's mean to judge a book by it's cover. 

It was at this intersection, and a few blocks later as we ran side-by-side, that I learned that this gentleman, at the age of 63, was finally going to run a marathon, years after telling himself, "I'm going to do it one of these days."  He told me that he usually runs 3 days a week because he works and that his long runs are on the weekend (aren't they all?).  Last weekend, he went 3 hours.  I couldn't help but be impressed by him.  He was finally going to accomplish his goal, and the fact that he was in his 60's...wow.

It's amazing how running brings people together at all stages of their lives (and all times of day).  As he turned right and I turned left, I couldn't help but have a smile on my face.  This man, who I didn't even know his name, had made my run so much more enjoyable.  I felt excited for him and his training to run the marathon.  I felt hope that one day, I could push my body like that.  And I felt happiness that we had both found something that we loved to do.   Running rocks.