Runnin' With The Devil

In Las Vegas I am a minority.  I can handle it.  I’m used to it.  I grew up as a minority in many ways:  I’m female, I’m Mormon, I’m 7” taller than average, my eyes are green for heaven’s sake!  Yeah, it’s been rough at times.  But none of those compare to how hard it is to be in the minority in Las Vegas during the summer.  You see, we are among the fools who do not have a pool in our backyard. 

It didn’t take us long after we moved here to figure out that, in summertime, you either stay indoors or stay wet.  Also, we discovered it's not easy to run outside for exercise during said season.  My mileage tapers off significantly as the temperature rises and other activities take the place of my running until autumn blesses us with cooler temps… y’know, around Thanksgiving.

So, as usual, I haven’t been running much this summer... and what do I go and do???  I create a facebook Fun Run Challenge for my friends and family to see who can log 40 running or walking miles between July 7 (my 40^th birthday) and September 3 (K’s 40^th birthday). 

Yeah, and I’m hating myself for it!  At this point, pretty much everyone is ahead of me.  Today we had our first finisher (Yay, Janet!) and I’m finding I’m being a very poor example of being 40 and fabulous.

Two of my biggest hurdles are: 1) I cannot arise before dawn to run in the cooler mornings and, 2) I just can’t bring myself to do any significant mileage on the treadmill.  Nuh-uh.  Nope.  Would rather jab a stick in my eye.

Well, just the other day I realized that I needed to get moving on this challenge.  I needed to find some way, somehow to accelerate my running mile accumulation.  And so I created… the Poor Man’s Backyard Triathlon.  Conveniently, the street within my neighborhood is a half mile loop.  Fortunately, my daughters love riding their bikes.  By good luck, we ran across just the right kiddie pool for our needs this year.

Suddenly, I realized I had the makings of a refreshing way to run during a Las Vegas summer!  The girls and I started by splashing a little cold pool water on us before our first lap.  We were too wimpy to take the plunge until we came back.  We then headed out for our first neighborhood circuit.  The girls were on their bikes and I kept up with them on foot.  By the time we got back… there was nothing wimpy about our pool plunge:  we couldn’t get in fast enough!  We giddily splashed and refreshed and geared up for our next round.  It felt great to be cooled-off as we headed around again and it didn’t take us long to drip dry. 

Yeah, we think we're tough... Let's do this!

I had in mind to do four circuits because that would be 2 miles of running.  The girls did great and were loving it the first three times, but I had to do a little convincing to make the final lap happen.  It was getting harder to get out of the pool each time; they just wanted to stay in and play! 

But we did it!  And it was a blast!

So, obviously it was not quite equivalent to the Ironman Triathlon.  Rather, it was more an Aluminum Girl Tri-ish-lon.  But we figured out a new way to make it fun to run in the sun!

Heaven and Hell - In Under 48 Hours



Beautiful reflection in Mirror Lake...
that peak isn't even the summit!

Over the course of one day and a half, I elevated myself to the closest point to heaven and then descended to the closest point to hell in the continental 48 states.  I’m talking physically… because emotionally I do that pretty much every day as a mom of two young children.



Probably one of the best sunrises I've ever experienced.
The sky just glowed brighter and brighter until daybreak.

Mt. Whitney, which – at 14, 508 vertical feet - is the highest mountain peak in the contiguous United States, just happens to be a couple of hours away from Death Valley which has the lowest point – at 282 feet below sea level – in the entire western hemisphere.

Is that not an adventure just screaming to be taken on, or what?!

Our first glimpse of the summit after hiking for several hours.
It's the small, scraggly peaks to the right of the big, illuminated hill that we had to go around to get to the top!

We got a one-day permit allowing us only 24 hours to summit Mt. Whitney so we knew we were gonna have to bust our tails to get up and down that monster.  It required us to climb just about 7000 vertical feet. So, bust our tails we did (and our feet and our knees and our hips and our backs…did I mention our feet?) and cranked that hike out in about 16.5 hours.

Officially above the tree line.
With a bottle full of purified mountain lake water!

We started at about 2:30 a.m. and finished just before 7 p.m. that night.  This hike is not for the weak of heart, whiney of attitude nor wimpy of mentality.



Climbing the stairway to heaven.

It is also not for anyone who likes their feet…or an abundance of oxygen.  But it is for anyone who wants to have a pretty unforgettable experience.

K summed it up the best when he said it was the most miserably awesome thing he’d ever done.  Agreed. We have two amazing friends – R and S - with whom we accomplished this feat and I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather endure those conditions with than them!  During a pre-hike planning dinner, I told our comrades that I could see this excursion either further reinforcing our friendship or being the catalyst of its tragic demise.  S said she was actually more worried about how their marriage would fare under such undue burden.  I'm pretty sure they're still married.  I don't know... we're not speaking any more. 

On the way down.
It was harder to get back on our feet after each break.

I can’t tell you how many times we drew parallels between the experience of that epic trek and the grand journey of life.  We compared the highs, the lows and everything in between… all while fantasizing about the giant burger and fries we were going to devour in celebration of our stupendous conquest!  Trail mix gets old fast.

We sang every applicable song ever written… I have climbed highest mountains… Ain’t about how fast I get there, Ain’t about what’s waiting on the other side, It’s the cliiiiiiiimb… Pioneer children sang as they walked and walk and walked and walked… And we even made up a few of our own… This is the trail that never ends… Avalanche-anch-anch-anch, you ought-a kill us now…



Under the sea... Under the sea... 282 feet under it!

Anyways, no matter how well I exhaust thesaurus.com, I still will not come up with the adequate words to depict this experience.  Simply put, it’s just one of those life-defining events that transcends description so, after nearly 500 words, I’ll finally stop trying.

Mmmmm... salty.

Well, after one more song reference... I can't believe we did it, we did it, we did it.  I can't believe we did it, but indeed we did!

 

40 Sucks... I mean, ROCKS!

'Nuff said.

In just less than one month the world – my world, anyway – will cease to exist in the way I want it to… a way which has amicably harbored me under the aegis of my indomitable youth, rife with the blithe notion that tomorrow never comes nor with it the need to pay the piper.

What monumental travesty could I possibly be referring to? 

I’m turning stinkin’ 40!!!!!  Forty!!!  Four-Oh!!!

Am I being a tad melodramatic? Is my dismay a bit exaggerated?  I really don’t think so…

I know, I know, age is just a number, right?  Well, try telling that to my aching joints, slowing metabolism, gray hair and wrinkles! 

Seriously, as I saw 40 looming in the future these last few years, I thought, “No biggie.  My age doesn’t define me. My 40s are gonna ROCK!”  But now that the unpalatable anniversary is breathing down my neck… I’m kinda freakin’ out, man!

I declare that I’m experiencing a midlife crisis.  No joke.  I’m about this close to chopping off all my hair a la P!nk.  If money was no object I’d be plastic surgery-ing it up, big time.

But, instead, I am going to channel all this absurd insanity into something productive and beneficial for myself and, possibly, others.  I’m declaring my entire birth month a celebration of being awesome.  You can be awesome at any age, right?  I’ve seen it, so I’m gonna do it.

Each week of July I’m going to do something awesome in order to Overcome Lazy at 40.  For example, week 1 will be a vigorous hike with some fellow kindred adventuring high school/college friends in my hometown.  Another week will be a paddleboarding excursion, another week, a yoga retreat and for the final week… I’m still deciding… just something simple like mountain biking or zip-lining or base jumping (Ha!)

If this is what 40 looks like, I can't wait for 50 to come...
because they'll probably have way more advanced photo shopping and instagram-ish technology by then!

Anyway, I’m going to put the shout-out via another facebook challenge to anyone of any age to join me so watch for the deets.  Your summer might be great this year, but mine is going to ROCK!  

And then I might have to take August off.  Did I mention K turns 40 in September…  Heaven knows what he has planned.

Your Salad: Shaken or Stirred?

Salads, YAY!  Smoothies, YAY!  Healthier eating, YIPPEE, YAY, YAY! 

Starting with the basics!
  I, personally, am going to concentrate on green salads for this Salad-A-Day challenge in order to combat jaw muscle atrophy.

I recently issued a challenge to my facebook friends because I was appalled at how my consumption of fresh produce has declined lately.  I was staring at the big ol’ bag of baby spinach and the fresh strawberries in the fridge and fondly recalled the days when those staples were not doomed to be thrown into the trash due to neglect.  In fact, in the not-so-distant past, such super foods often needed to be replenished between weekly shopping trips because they were appropriately and promptly devoured. 



I still plan on remaining very friendly with my smoothie "salads".
This one is unsweetened almond milk,protein powder, fresh spinach, frozen blueberries and strawberries.  Shut UP!

Well, when it took me a mere 5 or so minutes to whip up a delectable salad, I realized I missed being the salad-eating fool I used to be!

Was it more effort than I wanted to put forth?  Frankly, yes.  I am just that lazy.

Was it worth the effort that I grudgingly put forth?  More than yes!

The salad was delicious, refreshing, surprisingly satisfying and I felt so proud of myself for fueling my body properly.  I realized that it is incredibly empowering to have the means and ability to decide how I nourish my body.  Thankfully, I am currently disease-free with no food intolerances/allergies.  Even though I live in a harsh, barren desert, in this modern, free(ish) country I have access to an amazing amount of healthy foods.  I would be grossly remiss if I squandered this prime time of my life by indulging in habits that would only likely shorten my window of opportunity to suck the juice (organic and all-natural, of course) out of this earthly journey!

I am so ready for the week!

So I did what all sensible people do when faced with a personal angst issue:  I promptly revealed it on facebook and I’m truly glad I did!  So many of my friends immediately responded and are stepping up to this challenge with me.  I’m already feeling much more motivated and accountable.  Honestly, I doubt that I will perfectly achieve eating a salad every single day until July 4^th.  But… what if I do?  What if I screw it up by having a crappy week down the line but get back on the bandwagon ASAP and finish the challenge with a 90% success rate?  Or 80%?  Or, heck, even 50%?  Will I have benefitted by seeing it through and not giving up?  Heck to the yes!

Doesn't this just look so much yummier than a burger and fries, or double fudge brownies, or a fresh donut right out of the cooking oil, still warm with the glaze melting into a glossy sheen that is so light and fluffy that it kinda just disintegrates in your mouth like a perfect manifestation of a sinful confection.
Oh... uh... what was I saying?  Yeah, green salads... yummiest things on earth.  Yumm-o!

If you are a green smoothie king/queen, change it up by tossing in a fresh salad here and there. If the thought of grazing on one more grass clipping makes you want to stab a fork in your eye, throw a combo of produce into the blender and slurp away!

So - shaken, tossed, chopped or blended – just get some more fresh produce down that gullet of yours every single day that you can until the day you die… or until July 4.  Whichever comes last. 

 

I Heart Yoga Pants

If they're on my husband.  Yowza!

Have you ever heard of something called Acro Yoga?  Yeah, me neither.  And I’m a stinkin’ personal trainer.  I’m supposed to be in the know about all things health and fitness related, right?  Well, need I remind you, folks:  I’m lazy!  LAAAAYYYYYYZEEEEEE.  By personal trainer standards, anyway.  But I’m trying. 

And here’s some evidence:

 

Dang!  I forgot to point my toes.

Check it OUT!

This is something I never envisioned myself doing.  Ever.  Acro Yoga is partner-based yoga and blends elements of acrobatics and yoga.  I mean, it’s been slow-going for me just with “regular” yoga, but this…. This was – dare I say – mind-opening.  Perspective-shifting.  Life-altering.  For more reasons than one. 

Even my tuff hubby wasn't too macho to don my (yes MINE!) yoga pants and try!

I think I’ve been reluctant to undertake yoga because as a tall, gangly, inflexible person, I just didn’t think it would go well for me.  I do possess enough agility and coordination to enjoy many athletic activities but I really have stuck to traditional western concepts of sports, stretching and strength training most of my life.

When my exposure to the world of fitness expanded, I did give yoga a try.  I was cool with it, but still mostly dismissed it as “not really my thang, y’know.”  But over this past year, I’ve had some experiences that have helped me open my stiff, muscle-bound (ha-ha) arms to embrace the notion of making yoga a bigger part of my healthy lifestyle. 

This picture is proof that, with the right top, even A-cups can have cleavage!

And I consider this latest Acro Yoga session a game-changer.  I seriously was flying, people.  Then after an exhilarating flight, I plunged into the undulating waves of the ocean.  The weirdness of it all was quickly replaced by the amazement of the other-worldly sensations I was experiencing.  My “base” who was the person supporting me as I acted as “flyer,” told me to close my eyes at certain times and I truly was transported into a different realm. 

Way cool.  Way, way cool.

Joe never had to remind Tiff to relax like he did me.

I don’t know that this boot-camp lovin’, heavy bag hittin’ former collegiate track star (again, ha-ha) will ever become a yogini but I just might be ready to upgrade my relationship with yoga from “acquaintance” to “friend.”  Perhaps with time, it will turn into my “significant other” fitness activity.

 

Thank you, thank you, thank you Tiffany and Joe.  This was an experience I will never forget.

 

A Happy-ish Runner

So there I was this morning.  Out ruining a perfectly gorgeous Las Vegas spring day with a 5 mile run. 



See, I AM a happy runner!

Now, I do like running.  I've done it and enjoyed it for many years.  But this morning I was feeling it.  I was feeling it in a haven't-done-this-for-a-while-and-I-partied-too-hard-with-my-sisters-this-weekend kind of way.

I had to tell myself that I really was doing a good thing as I plodded along with little enthusiasm at a slower pace than usual.  Then I looked up and saw her:  a fellow pavement pounder who looked about as haggard as I felt.  Upon approximating ourselves within about 10 feet, I did the five-finger spread which serves as both a wordless greeting and a gesture of sympathy and encouragement that I frequently offer to others who are also on the masochistic yet noble quest for better health.

I don't always get a response from other folks and I'm OK with that.  But I have to confess that I'm quite pleased when I do.  I actually wasn't expecting any acknowledgement from this lady (she looked like the endorphins hadn't quite kicked in just yet) but as soon as I smiled and waved, she immediately reciprocated with her own two-finger salute and a bright grin which reminded me of the sun breaking through the clouds. 

That was just what I needed.  Her genuine smile made my own spread a little wider and added a bit more spring to my step.  It made me happy to see a fellow warrior battling so valiantly in the war over Lazy. 

One small skirmish at a time, we're taking Lazy down!!!

I Am One Tough Mudder Fudder!

We be tuff!

Hey, with the team name, “Fuddmudders,” I can’t not make that joke.

So, how would I describe the Tough Mudder experience?  By stating the obvious:  It was tough and it was muddy.  They definitely named it right.  Never before have I been more deserving of a beer!  Okay, okay, I didn’t drink it but I could’ve used a good buzz after that experience!

The pre-race wall that separates the mice
from the mudders!

Here are the hard facts for my Las Vegas Tough Mudder 2012:

• 11 miles
• 20 obstacles
• 5 team members (4 boys, 1 girl)
• Total time:  3 hours, 50 minutes (they don’t time you, but I had my stopwatch going)

My experience could be summed-up (but not limited to) these four words:  crazy, awesome, torturous and exhilarating.  Read on....

First of all, they make you climb a stinkin’ 15-ft. wall to even get to the starting line.  It was like they were telling you: “If you can’t even handle getting over this wall, just turn around and go home, loser.”  I would’ve been so ticked if I’d gotten injured on that thing before the race even started!  But it was a good taste of what was to come.

Jammin' through some logs.  Grrrrrr.

The first 5-6 miles had more running than obstacles.  It’s the 2^nd half where they really hammer you with a heavy concentration of challenges, when you’re most tired and depleted of energy!  It was interesting to see all the different shapes and sizes of people, which goes to show that just about anybody can do this, but I was certainly glad I had taken the time and effort to put some mudder-specific training into the months preceding the event.  My team was usually running between the obstacles whereas most others were walking – especially toward the end.

What I loved best about the Tough Mudder is the emphasis on teamwork.  I had great teammates that expended a lot of their precious energy in helping to haul my arse up and over several of the obstacles.  I couldn’t have done it without them.  Even complete strangers came to my aid several times and the entire atmosphere was totally charged with enthusiasm and encouragement.

Some memorable moments:

Did I mention there was lots of mud?

Artic Enema obstacle:  they fill a huge dumpster with ice, ice, ice-cold water and make you dive under a wall to get to the other side.  Holy cannoli.  I didn’t know hypothermia could set in so quickly.  I was almost too paralyzed to hoist myself back out of the water. None of us could feel our bodies for at least a quarter mile afterwards.  We could’ve been running on bloody stumps for all we knew.

Walk The Plank obstacle:  this requires jumping off a 15-foot platform into water.  This was the obstacle that I was fearing most.  I’m not a fan of heights and I actually did force myself to do some cliff jumping this summer to prepare for this obstacle, which I am soooooo glad I did.  However, at the top of the plank I still totally froze for several seconds.  Thank goodness my teammate Brady told me to stop thinking and just jump.  Which I did.  And I lived!

Real Tough Mudders plug their noses.

 

 

The albino thong dude:  there were definitely some fun outfits and accessories that people had on.  Many tutus, some superheroes, plenty of funky socks and t-shirts.  But the guy that stole the show was the albino dude wearing a white thong.  The sight of his alabaster skin and his surprisingly mud-resistant white banana hammock was quite a shock after gazing at mostly brown mud for miles and miles.  Unfortunately for all of us, this guy was NOT Chippendale’s material!  I really hope he was wearing sunscreen.

The cold water:  I already mentioned the heart-stopping Arctic Enema, but I was also surprised at how cold they kept all the other water obstacles.  They had us trudge through endless mud trenches with water depths anywhere from thigh to chest-high.  We also had several deep water swims, some requiring diving under barrels and pulling ourselves along a cable.  This is all while fully dressed with sneakers, just to remind you.  But what got me was how cold the water was, especially considering that the weather was fairly warm – probably in the 90s somewhere.  In smaller doses, the coldness was refreshing but the longer swims were definitely energy-sapping.  Even the lifeguards were shivering in their wetsuits!

A nano-second after this picture,
I was in the water.

Why I will do the Tough Mudder again:  I can’t say with enthusiasm that I want to repeat all of the events I’ve been involved in:  The Ragnar Relay – not if I can avoid it.  Half marathon – maybe, but I’m in no hurry.  Marathon – I haven’t done one yet but if/when I do, it’ll probably only be once.  The Tough Mudder, however, I will repeat.  First, it was FUN!  It really did make me feel tough and accomplished and like I can take on (almost) anything!  It was so much more interesting than simply running mile after mile with little else going on.  Also, I’m unsatisfied with my performance on a few of the obstacles – namely, the monkey bars, hanging rings and Mt. Everest – so I want to improve my grip and upper body strength to do better next time.

The Tough Mudder might not be everyone’s cup o’tea, but it is definitely right up my alley.  I am so thankful for the healthy body that I have right now and I figure, why not test it every now and then.  Stuff like this is a great way to realize how amazing I can be… yet it’s also a humbling reminder that I’m not invincible, either!

I'll spare you any pictures of my bruised and swollen knees and elbows.  Let's just say I won't be wearing any mini-skirts this week.

 

Now off to take a terapeutic mineral mud bath!

Done and dirty!