9 Mar
My latest for The Dallas Morning News, this time about a group in Plano, Texas, that combines group counseling with fitness and nutrition. The results? A better emotional state than solely counseling, and better fitness than just hitting the gym. Click here for a link to the story instead.
I’ve been terribly absent here for a while. I plan to hop back on soon with an update on my own personal fitness/running state.
27 Jul
Brian and I are on our second-to-last week of official 5K training. But we’re tagging on a couple of more weeks to get down running the whole thing without stopping.
I think we’re there, but Brian’s adorable at scamming me into having us stop when he’s perfectly spry enough to keep going. Like today, he started futzing with his new mp3 player I got him for his birthday (Metallica makes him run faster). At the perfect 1.5 mile mark, he stops and literally fumbles and bumbles and boobs with his player like he can’t find the volume, and oh no, now it’s locked — Christy, how do I get this unlocked? I thought I saw you adjusting it the other day — you don’t remember how? Show me how.
I gave up trying to get us to keep going and realized what it was: a breather. He can fake-futz now … but those tagged-on extra two weeks of training? A no-futz zone.
Recent sights: A fat, very domesticated cat sauntering onto the trail, plopping in the middle of it, and lying belly-up for rubz. From anybody. As if there weren’t racing bicycles and roller blades whizzing by. I was like, Dumb cat. You obviously have no sense of self-preservation; go home. … After I spent five minutes on the ground giving him rubz.
Recent/all-the-time-smells: I know nature means small animals die. And that nature lines the trail. I’m just saying … the smell of dead birds or squirrels or whatever seem so much more horrid on the Katy than on any actual trail-trail (non-concrete) I’ve exhaled on. Grosssss.
Recent feels: Despite today’s futzing episode, Brian and I did well on our 3-miler. Maybe what helped was that The Nothing was rolling in from the West, which dropped temperatures and gave us a little rain during the run. The fact it looked like it was about to open up a torrent on us put a spring in our step, too. I love running in the rain, even if we only got sprinkles at the time of the run.
Cool report: Brian saw an old TCA-mate of ours on Facebook say that she signed up her and her husband for a half-marathon. I teased him about the grin on his face and said that he’s smiling because he knows that it doesn’t sound as crazy as it did just a few weeks ago. Maybe it doesn’t sound completely un-crazy, but less crazy. He did the “pshhh whatever” thing.
Later, he mentioned that maybe just maybe we could try to run from one end of the Katy to the other at some point. That’s around 7 miles. Haaaaay! Bodes well for our runny future ; )
4 Jul
I used to run in the heat of the summer day. I used to play soccer games in this heat. But it’s been a while, and exerting in the 2 p.m. sun is something that takes (re-)acclimation.
We drove to our usual Katy trailhead on Knox Street. Instead of bringing one water bottle to share like usual, we each brought one. We dressed loosely. We ran in the shade when possible.
Still, it was a butt whipping.
We had to take two walk breaks, with one of those breaks being a whole quarter-mile. I squeezed water on my head throughout the run. I even ran in the opposite lane because there was a measly strip of shade there and was nearly run down by a cyclist.
It felt good to see the very last quarter-mile marker, and it felt extra satisfying. Sometimes mere survival can make you feel like a stud.
While I looked like someone had pushed me into a pool, Brian somehow managed to complete the run with half a bottle of water left. Huh? Harrumph.
26 Jun
The trials and tribulations of Christy and Brian in the fitness department at least spun into a story idea. So, I guess they’ve been worth it. My Dallas Morning News story about couples who want to work out but can’t seem to make it, well, work.
25 Jun
Runnery date: Sunday, June 24
I like staying at my boyfriend’s because he’s got great hills around his apartment. I mean, that’s not the only reason I like staying with my boyfriend. But you know what I mean.
Yesterday’s runishness produced that blissful day-after muscle soreness that I love. That soreness lets me know I actually stretched my limits a bit.
Boyfriance and I started off walking briskly down the street by his apartment, took a right at Green Oaks, and met up with quite possibly the steepest grade in Arlington. That’s not saying much. But around here, it counts as steep. We got our elbows moving and hoofed it up the hill, which I love, love, loved.
I think there are three big climbs on that route. The first time we just walked it, and it took us an hour. This time, we ran two of the three hills. But just a bit — I already have to finagle to get boy-f to go with me as it is. He freely offered to accompany me this time, which I liked but didn’t let on too much that I did. He may have offered to go, but that didn’t cut down on the frowns. He’s quite the surly runnishness partner.
When we wrapped back around to his apartment about 45 minutes later, I told him I’d meet him back. I wanted to do a little more walkunning, but on a shorter route. It was getting dark.
I jogged down the hill of the street by his apartment — I hate going downhill — and took the same right at Green Oaks. Instead of heading toward that first steep hill, I took a right into a beautiful neighborhood, hoping there would be an outlet somewhere along the way. I loved how the ascent of tree-lined street seemed to wind into mystery, the sight of which just made me need to turn into that neighborhood, darkness coming or not. I walked until the the street started giving grade, then I began running.
Running uphill feels gorgeous as it is, but even better is being surrounded by beautiful home after home situated on hills steeper than those on my and boyfriance’s route. Mature trees everywhere, quiet calm, inconspicuous wealth displayed not by size but by quality. Nice ambiance. I mostly walked when the street was level or downhill, but the sun was really starting to beat me home. And I still had no idea whether this street led anywhere useful.
I picked up the pace and mostly ran the whole last half. The coming darkness is good in that it’s like I’m having to outrun some sort of danger. It feels a little like being stalked, a slight fear of finding myself, a female runner who stupidly didn’t bring a cell phone or anything helpful in a bind, in a vulnerable situation. Talk about incentive to run run run. It’s enough to make me think about making late dusk my runnishness time all the time.
At that point, I not only was running the climbs, but the descents and the flats, too. The sun sunk past the horizon already, and the only light left were the dregs. A tad of fight-or-flight came over me, and I ran like I was being chased. I was thanking God when the neighborhood street wound around and revealed the road I needed to get home. That road is the last big hill before the run-walk is over, and I gave it everything I had.
As I entered my BF’s apartment complex, I slowed to a walk. I decided cutting through the pool area would be quicker and a little bit more interesting. Plenty of people were left over in the huge pool area from the day. A group of TexMex folks laughing it up about whatever, a couple still reclining by the pool … and three people playing volleyball in the sand court. Three! That means they need one more!
Normally when people are playing v-ball out there, I’m with my dude. The surliness would increase a ton-fold if I were to suggest stopping by to see if they need a couple more players, so I typically just don’t. But I was alone and I grabbed the moment.
They not-so-enthusiastically aggreed to let me on the court, but I didn’t care. I got a few volleys in — including a block and two dirty, sandy dives — before their fourth player came back from an apparent beer run. That was ok, because the boy-f was probably about to call a search party as it was. I thanked them and ran off, my New Balance trail runners in hand. Boy-man was standing outside waiting on me and said he was worried.
He may not be much of a walkyrun partner, but protective, he is.
