Category Archives: Sporty type things that aren’t hockey
These are days, guys.
If you read Buzzfeed, or are on Facebook, or Instagram, or Twitter, or any social media with other like minded people (re: TwentySomethings), then you know that now is the time to be running, or working out, or eating healthy, or staying healthy, or something like that.
Everyone and their mother is working out and running 5ks and 10ks and 26.2ks and Blerg-Ks and eating all this kale and does anyone really even like kale?!
Seriously. You hit your twenties and it’s just the thing to be doing. Or maybe the time to start telling people about the thing you were already doing. (I wasn’t doing it before, really.)
It involved running and getting hit by things, then rinsing and repeating. Somewhere in the part where we were not getting hit by things, FunSized and I started talking about her latest piece of bling.
FunSized: It’s a Fitbit. It tracks how far you walk everyday. Like my goal is 10,000 steps and it’ll freak out when I hit it.
Me: 10,000 steps, huh?
FunSized: Yeah. I’ll definitely hit it today since we’re doing this, but it just motivates you to move around more. Like I know that you should park far away from Target, but now I actually park far away from Target.
Me: You’re kidding.
FunSized: During winter, I would walk to the store and just walk around until I hit my goal.
Me: …Sometimes when I go to the store, I’m tired and try to get Boo to push me in the cart instead.
So, I decided to join this revolution. I mean, I have a very big office. That has got to be a lot of steps I take everyday. At the very least, maybe FunSized would be right, and it would motivate me to move around more. Thus, the next time I was at Target, I parked as close as possible for the last time ever, and bought myself a Fitbit.
I got approximately 3,573 steps.
“I’ve only owned it a day.” I told myself. “And it was only part of the day. So it really doesn’t count.”
I had 8,105 steps.
“What are you doing?” my mother asks me.
“Walking around the kitchen table,” I tell her.
“FunSized told me this thing would freak out when I reached my goal.” I tell her.
“Hm.” my mother tells me.
I’m in shock that I don’t take 10,000 steps per day. It doesn’t seem right. MY OFFICE IS LARGE, people. But then this happened.
Total steps? 11,373. I’ve never been so happy to see a piece of technology freak out on me.
Obviously I am more than capable of taking 10,000 steps in a day, because I did it the day before. I’m a pro now. So when it gets to midnight, and I only have 8,746 steps, I’m pissed. Like legitimately upset and realizing that THIS IS WHY I AM NO LONGER SKINNY, because obviously I never took the time to park far away or count my steps and I knew I should have been jogging in place while watching The Fault in Our Stars last night.
I’m not that girly. I’m not going to lie. GoldDust tried once to put liquid eyeliner on me, and I cried before she even got one eye done. I’m just not a high maintenance female. I roll out of bed in the morning, brush my hair and teeth, and head out the door.
I forgot pants once because I was in such a daze.
This means, that when I go to the effort of getting dolled up, it’s a big effort. On Tuesdays and Thursday mornings, however, sometimes I’ll make the extra effort because I know I’ll be seeing my BFF Poof, who runs a fashion blog. It’s nice when our photos don’t feature her being adorable and me in a t-shirt. But that’s happened before.
One Tuesday and/or Thursday (I’m not sure which it was), I happened to be dolled up after playing photographer with Poof, and good things happened to happen. I got tickets to the most epic of epic things in the hockey world: tickets to the Winter Classic.
So, in a flurry of excitement and high energy, I headed to the most ideal place: Starbucks.
“Coffbanger,” I tell my barista. “GUESS WHAT I HAVE?!”
Coffbanger happens to have been my barista for a long time standing, and thus, he knows of my hockey love. He guessed within three tries that it was hockey tickets, and laughed at my outwardly excessive amount of glee.
His co-worker was not such a good sport.
“Wait,” the coworker tells me, interrupting Coffbanger’s and my conversation. “You can’t be a hockey fan.”
Eyebrow raise here. The awkward silence says that he should stop talking.
The coworker continues, however. “You can’t be a hockey fan. You’re in a dress.”
Cue the jaw drop. Of course, I would never take this lying down.
I’m so irritated. I’m tired of having to define icing to prove that I actually like hockey, as opposed to just wanting to hump Darren Helm*.
“Well,” I tell him. I manage to keep smiling. No amount of anger can wipe my “I’m going to the Winter Classic” smile off my face. And then this spills out faster than they’re making my coffee.
“You can’t be a man, you’re in skinny jeans.”
Coffbanger, the coworker, and I are all silent for a moment before Coffbanger lets out a snort of laughter.
Seriously though. Can’t a girl like her hockey in a dress?
Seriously. I looked fecking adorable.
Sound off, female hockey fans.
Can’t a girl wear a dress and be a hockey fan? Or a sports fan?
I know I’m not the only one with sports colored knee socks for playoff games.
*the writer acknowledges that yes, she would also like to hump Darren Helm.
So at the beginning of the summer I started training for The Crim 10 Mile race. Well, this past Saturday was race day. I’m happy to say I completed it!!!
Such an amazing feeling to add this to my list of accomplishments.
Some funny things happened while I ran my little heart off.
The race started off fine, but I had to pee 3 miles in…
Peeing during a race is the worst thing. You never know where the next restroom is located. Also, you’re not the only person who has to pee.
I was in line for 15 minutes to use the facility. While I was waited I got to see some oddly dressed runners. We had two mermaids which I didn’t know mermaids could run. We had Wonder Woman. Why didn’t she just fly to the finish line? Also, several ballerina with their tutus. I would think the tutu would weigh a runner down.
After catching my breath and relieving myself, I started to peddle away. The miles started to blur together.
I’m actually doing this. I’m running and I’m getting closer to the finish line.
About the 7 mile marker I noticed something a strange about a runner … she had no shoes on!!! 10 miles no shoes!!! Her feet were black. I don’t know how she did it. I would cry after the first mile.
I finally reached the last mile. Exhausted. Sweating. Sore. We ran passed the last water station. A woman in front me grabbed a drink. When she finished she did not toss the cup to the side like proper cup tossing when running. Instead she whipped it behind her, right into my face. Yes, I got hit in the face with an empty cup. I was more stocked than upset. Who whips a cup during a race?
Finally, we rounded the corner and the finish line was insight. The excitement took over my body and I began to sprint. In a blink of an eye, I crossed the finish line. 10 miles behind me.
I’m still glowing with accomplishment. I had some amazing people waiting at the finish line for me. My brother and my co-workers competed in the race also.
When is the next race?
Training for my 10 mile run and going to Zumba have really started to give me results for my physique. I don’t look like a body builder, but I feel like a much healthier person.
There is only one part of my body that hasn’t had much transformation because of working out. And really hasn’t since 5th grade.
People… that would be my chest.
I’ve never been part of itty bitty titty committee and I should be feel blessed, but there are down falls to having a chest.
Table cloth or a shirt…
I’m a petite person except for my chest. Most cases I have to purchase a size bigger to give my two chest roommates space to breath. Having to make this accommodation makes me look like I’m wearing a table cloth instead of an actual t-shirt. The table cloth curse also occurs, I do not own a white shirt that doesn’t have a stain on the chest area. It never fails… I put on a shirt and ten minutes later a stain magically appears on my chest shelf.
I’ve been running 3 times week to get ready for my race, but I have to plan my laundry days so I have enough clean sports bras. Ladies with chests don’t have the luxury to run free. It’s could turn into a disaster. If I don’t strap down my precious cargo I could injure myself. Things could start flying around uncontrollably, hitting me in the face.
Victoria does have a secret…
It’s slim picking when I go bra shopping. Since I don’t have to fake it to make it, I don’t get the choice of the colorful fun bras at Vikki’s. I get stuck with three choices: white, tan and black. The fun bras usually have too much padding, giving too much push-up. If I were to risk wearing the bright colorful bra with padding, I could endanger myself by being suffocated with my two attached boulders. I like breathing so I stick with the bland pickings.
Long live the bigg girls.
So I made a promise to L.A. that I would keep the blog strong while she is on the adventure of a life time. Plus, I haven’t blogged in months.
How is my life, you might asked? Well, it’s fabulous. Summer has finally appeared in the mitten state.
Summer being in the air has given me incentive to plan all my summer adventures. Some adventures are very unfamiliar to me.
The adventure that I’m most excited about is running the 10 miler in a race called the Crim. It’s taking place later this summer. 14 weeks away to be exact.
I’m not much of a runner so this should be interesting. I have already started to plan ways to get to the finish line without actually running. Like, wearing roller blades or hopping on someone’s back for a piggy-back ride. Or maybe, I will just skip the entire race, splash some water on my face, and show up to the finish line.
My motivation to run stems from a few things… Purchasing colorful running shoes. Making a pack with myself when I turned 25 to be more healthy and active. I want to live to be 100 so I have to take actions to make it to that finish line. Lastly, I’m running for the beer and t-shirt. Oh and my job is paying for me to in the race. Running for free is the best type of running.
I’m 2 weeks into training, and I think I’m doing pretty good. I was able to complete 3 miles this past Sunday. But, I will share a secret with you… I had a wedgie the entire time. So painful. So awkward. I need new running shorts.
I hope wedgies do not become a common occurrence. I will definitely not be able to run the entire ten miles come race day. Or I will have to run with no pants and I think that may be frowned upon in the running community.
Please cheer me on to keep running and praying for wedgie-free runs!!!
*Update at the bottom*
The other day, I was over at CoSi and BoBo’s house for our I want it to be a weekly tradition type thing game night. It was a bunch of people catching up from high school, including, but not limited to, the afore mentioned Cosi and Bobo, FunSized, Arrington (and significant other), and HSM.
I don’t know what “high school reunion” means to you, but to me, it means that game night turns pretty quickly to high school story telling random conversation of everything we haven’t talked about in the past x amount of months catch up time.
So, we’re the midst of the whole catching up, and somehow, the topic of Arrington and his constant running comes up. He ran like…track, and cross country, and those other running things…the ones where you run just to run.
Arrington is telling us about the next marathon he’s going to be running in, since he runs them all the time, since he’s capable, and doesn’t weeze and die while running like I do.
That’s when I’m thrown for a loop. “I’m going to run a 5k!” FunSized announces. “I’m training for it.”
“You should totally do it!” Arrington tells her.
“What’s that one that everyone is doing?” I ask. “The Color run?” I think to the pictures of people doused in various colors while running. Besides the running, it looks pretty exciting. “I added that to my bucket list.”
“That looks fun!” FunSized says. “Let’s do it!”
“Let’s all do it!” CoSi says.
“We can do the one in Lansing!” Arrington says. “We can even tail gate too, and cross two things off your bucket list”
It sounds exciting and fun and all sorts of friends that I love more than life itself, but it isn’t until later that I start to think more about it.
I’m not a good runner. I remember being in high school, having to run three miles, and being completely winded.
Random conversation from a high school run.
Teammate: So, Boyfriend got me flowers to apologize for being a jerk.
Teammate: I know you don’t like him.
Teammate: L.A.! Seriously?!
Me: *wheeze* Yeah, flowers. *(inner monologue) if I say more words, I won’t be able to hate anyone because I’ll be lying dead on the street in downtown Grand Rapids.*
I ended up talking to VS about this running thing later, because while I did soccer in high school, she did track. She runs. She knows what’s up. Both with the running, and with me being a terrible runner.
So, VS sent me this link called like “Running for Dumbasses,” and I downloaded an app on the recommendation of FunSized which allows to walk (live) and run (die) in increments of pain and anguish. And hopefully between the two of those, I’ll manage to make it successfully through a 5k.
Have you ever done one of these marathon things? What do you do to prepare? Slash, how do you feel about following me with a rickshaw for when I get tired??
Tweet me or comment with any advice or words of encouragement. After all, if I die, whose blog will you read??
— Laura Anne (@LA_theGirl) February 23, 2013
A big fat thank you and snuggle to everyone who’s been encouraging about this whole running thing. I downloaded that App (Couch to 5k, for those who has asked) at FunSized’s suggestion, and have learned that 60 seconds is really, really, really long when you’re running and that 90 seconds is incredibly short when you know you have to run some more at the end of it. But the whole point, I suppose, is that I’m running? Right?
Let me know if you’re signing up for the color run — I want to know what other people are doing for this training thing. Also, I saw pictures of people running in tutus. I’d like a tutu. Or a crown. Or a horse drawn carriage. Whichever.
I’m not doing everyday with the running. But I’m doing more. Last week Sunday:
— Laura Anne (@LA_theGirl) March 3, 2013
And then again this Sunday: 3.09 miles. It hurts so good.*
*Not really. It hurts so bad. But I’m sure it’ll be great when I’m all multi-colored**.
**I’m still lying. I’m still think I might die a multi-colored death.
- Caitlin Chock: It’s That Runner Tenacity (saltyrunning.com)