Five Reasons 5Ks are Proof that Hell on Earth Exists



I am in hell. 

I ran a 5K this weekend. I ran it as a training run sandwiched between 2 easy mile bookends for a total of 7.1 miles for the day. My new Coach thought it would be a “fun” thing for me to do as we kick off marathon training.  At the time, I was totally on board. I even suggested it. “Sure, Coach! FUN!” Let me preface this by saying that I really believed this would be a fantastic idea- it was for an incredible local cause. And being a shop-local-community-type gal, I signed right on up. I also thought I was fairly fit, having run a marathon and hiked a million miles on vacation the past two weeks.  In that brief moment, I forgot the fact that I hated 5Ks. I hate them more than any distance. Gimme a marathon any day over this hell fest. At least with a marathon, there’s time to settle in. With a 5K, it is ON.  I’m nervous. I have to pee incessantly.  And my stomach feels like it’s been taken over by a swarm of bumble bees. I’m a wreck for a 5K. An ill prepared- SHIT I NEED TO RUN FAST!- wreck. It’s crazy. Because for many of us, this is the race that starts it all! This is our first date with running. We swiped right. From here our love affair with running blossoms! From here it becomes a 10k, a half-marathon, a marathon….and maybe even an ultra. The sky is the limit! I ran a 5K! I love it! I love running! Oh, how quickly we forget. Maybe we black it out. Box it up and banish it to that far away place in our minds.  Because as I damn nearly forgot, 5Ks STINK. Here’s why….

Five Reasons 5Ks are Proof that Hell on Earth Exists

5. You need to run really, really fast. Sure, you can saunter along and chit chat with your squad but if you’re planning on racing one, in the words of the almighty Ru Paul – “You better werk!”  And by that I mean, you shouldn’t even be able to talk. There is no ‘Easy Pace’ in the 5K. You should be able to grunt. And maybe make a few simple hand gestures involving a middle finger. If you can carry on a conversation during a 5K, Gurl, you ain’t running hard enough. And who wants that? We’re social creatures for Pete’s sake. Let’s chit chat and be merry!

4. There is no time – I REPEAT – no time to screw around. That gun goes off and it’s time to make the donuts, eat them, then forget you even had them – GO! No dicking around people. There is little room for error with a 5K. Whatever the pace you’re huffing and puffing for, you better dial it in right off the line. If you don’t you’ll inevitably go out too fast, blow up and blow donut chunks at the finish. Graphic? Yes. But totally true.

3. Your heart may very well explode. Or minimally, bounce out of your chest, stop, restart, then hop back in it’s comfy cavity, exhausted. Feeling like you’re dying is never, ever a good thing. I’m all for ’embracing the suck’ and ‘getting uncomfortable’ and all that cliched happy horseshit- but for the love of coronary arteries, it’s all a bit much. I’m sure the 5K is the ideal HIIT workout (high intensity interval training).  HIIT workouts usually feature a short period of intense work with an easier recovery period only THERE IS NO RECOVERY PERIOD IN A 5K. Unless you count laying face down on the finish line in a heap of broken dreams. That’s why your heart wants to burst.  It hates you and your 5K.

2. Wait. That’s it? I’m done?!? After you’ve died a thousand deaths, sucked wind and hurled – it’s over. 5Ks are quick. So if you’re trying to avoid mowing the lawn, re-staining your deck or spending time with your in -laws on a gorgeous summer weekend THIS AIN’T THE RACE FOR YOU. You will be home and ready to throw yourself into your annoying house hold chores zippity quick. You can’t bail on a gorgeous summer mid-day baby shower and forgo ohhh-ing and ahhhh-ing over diaper genies and onsies if  you’re running a 5K because you will have time to go home, shower and fluff up in no time. Who wants to run a race that doesn’t involve a “Get Out Of Annoying Obligations Because You’re Racing -Free” card?  Gimme a nice long marathon as an excuse to get out of doing pesky things on a weekend any damn day.

And the Number 1 reason why 5Ks are proof that hell on earth exists…..

1. 5Ks HURT. In my humble opinion, those wretched things may last less than 30 minutes (god willing) BUT it will be the worst 30 minutes of your life. Your heart, your lungs, your legs, your ego…..EVERYTHING HURTS AND YOU’RE DYING. Improving your time on the damn thing? That hurts even more. And is it even worth it? I’m not quite sure.


Maybe if I focused on shorter distances and did more speed work and maybe prepared to race 5Ks or even ran more than one a year or maybe spent more time on the track or didn’t have a few beers the night before…maybe then it wouldn’t be so bad?…

Don’t kid yourself. We runners are masochists. Pain is temporary. Just like our memory.




Are you there Blog? It’s me, Colby.


It’s been a while. And by while I mean a WHOPPING year and a half since I sat down, cracked my knuckles and busted out the ol’ blog.  That’s crazy!  I think my last post was about a 3 day juice cleanse. Why? Not sure. Not sure why I didn’t blog, not sure why I embarked on a cleanse either. Although in hind sight, no clue why the hell I drank kale and celery for three days and passed on the tacos and IPAs of my own volition. Kidding. I actually felt great afterwards. It was a ‘reset’. And a good one at that.  I needed it.

It’s not like I ran out of shit to say. Christ. I’m a talking machine. Or races to train for and run. I actually ran two marathons – Vermont City and super recently Sugarloaf in Maine. One was a shit show (pun not intended) and the other a really strong “comeback” race. I’ll get to the “comeback” story later. It’s a goddamn doozy.  Scary stuff.  Or places to visit. I’ve been on several AMAZING adventures! We took a van out west and it was GLORIOUS! There’s enough material in those trips to power this little blog for 3 years.

So why haven’t I blogged?

Simply put, I just wasn’t feelin’ it.  I think for the past year and a half I’ve just felt pretty damn unmotivated all around. It’s like a Death Eater got a hold of me for a minute or two and sucked a little bit of my soul out. Which is sad, because I really enjoy writing little bits every now and then. About running, about life, about Drunk Otis…about anything.  I don’t even care how many people read it. I really don’t. It’s a creative little outlet that happens to be in a very tiny corner of the internet.  It keeps me thinking – of things other than work and the current state of affairs in the world which I equate to Living in the Upside Down.  Actually, in the backwards Upside Down. Good gravy.  What the hell has gone on! It’s funny because I think I blame social media for not blogging on social media.  Oh, the tangled webs we weave!  It’s so easy to get caught up in an IG rabbit hole or reading political commentary that seriously makes you want to stab yourself in the eye with one of those weird wooden spoons you ate Hoodsie Cups with as a kid.  Those things were like Smurf-sized tongue depressors. So odd.  I got sucked into all of it and then I got sick of ALL OF IT. Of opinions and commentary and people talking AT YOU. Buy this. Wear this. Like this. Follow this. Run like this. Train like this. Eat this. YOU’RE DOING IT WRONG.  Gah. It’s exhausting. It’s like Information Fatigue. Fucking TILT.  I needed to step back. And take a breathe. And shutdown.

So what changed?

Not sure. Maybe it’s finishing up a marathon that really meant an awful lot to me. Maybe it’s having just spent 10 days milling around Arizona and Utah in a van with dear friends hiking and exploring beautiful places. Maybe it’s hiring a running coach.  I’m not sure. All know is that I just went to Google “Best Lobster Rolls in Connecticut,” and here I am, blogging. I’m glad I did. I needed it.

It’s good to be back after a cleanse.



A Busted Can of Biscuits

Anyone else feel like a hung over, busted can of biscuits?


*raises hand*

Sweet Jesus.

I can recover from marathons better than a long weekend of drinking and stinking. Maybe InsideTracker’s Inner Age was right. Maybe I am a broken down old broad.  If you missed my last InsideTracker post, relive the glory (and PROGRESS!)  HERE. And if you’re up for some Cyber Monday deals, there’s a code good for some deep discounts on InsideTracker packages. Invest in YOU this Cyber Monday. And not on shit that you don’t really need and will use for 2 weeks tops, before it winds up at the bottom of your cupboard, quietly weeping. Don’t make a cheap quesadilla maker sad! Invest in YOU, Poodles!

I had a fantastic long weekend. Some would argue a lil’ too fantastic. I’m looking at you, Liver. It was filled with people I adore and plenty of holiday cheer. And by holiday, I mean the Thanksgiving Holiday. Not the Christmas one. It is still November. Even though it’s hanging on by a teeny tiny thread. Last night as I plopped my tired, bloated, hung over ass on my couch and scrolled through the Internets, all I saw was FULL ON CHRISTMAS. Lights! Trees! Santa! Gingerbread houses! Elaborate Christmas Extravaganzas! Kids in Christmas Jammies!

And here I was covered in dog hair in yoga pants.

Was it always like this?

I feel like I’m way behind the Christmas Eight Ball and the goddamn turkey isn’t even cold yet. I almost felt panicked. I started walking around the house searching for giant green and red Tupperware bins marked “Xmas Decorations!” Yes. With an exclamation point. Where are my freaking ornaments?! Stockings?!?! Do we need new ones?!?!? WHERE ARE THE FLICKERY CANDLES FOR THE WINDOWS?!?!? GET ME THE NUTCRACKERS! I NEED THEM NOW!  I was nearly frenzied for one hot second. I even went so far as to find a lint brush and throw on some Uggs and a puffer vest. I came this close to heading out the door to chop down my tree, take a selfie in front of it, then have Drunk Otis drag it back home for me. Imagine a puffy faced me, a tree, and a maniac chocolate lab wearing a goPro. Eat your heart out Currier and Ives. It’s not even that people have begun to decorate for Christmas- THEY’RE FINISHED. I’m talking wrapped presents under the tree and shit. I haven’t even wrapped up my Thanksgiving hangover.

What’s left?

What I hope is left is to actually ENJOY the spirit of the season. To do something meaningful with someone you adore. To donate your time to a cause dear to you. To spend time with people who add value to your life. And to tell them they do so.

To laugh. To listen. To savor.

To raise a glass to health, love and happiness.


Then I came to my senses, put my keys down, pushed Drunk Otis out of the way, hopped back in my cozy chair and poured myself a glass of wine.

With a reindeer on the glass.

That’s gotta count. 🙂

Do your social media feeds stress you out this time of year? Are you done with Christmas already? What’s your favorite thing to do during the Holiday Season?

Spring THIS.

Middle Fingers in the Air

Vernal Equinox MY ASS.

I’m looking out my window this very second. And guess what? IT’S SNOWING.

{Throws self on floor. Screams like banshee.}

Yup. Snowing. And sticking. Oh, I can’t wait for the commute home. It will be Shit Show Commute #28 of the season.


I’m losing it. I know I’m not the only one who will be shoveling 5 inches of snow tonight. I know I’m not the only one who will be strapping on my Yak Trax, throwing on my stinking mittens, and heading out in the snow for a run- whenever the hell time I get home. I know this is a total whiny, cry baby, #firstworldproblems quick post, but for the love of Spring, GIVE A RUNNER A BREAK. All I want to do is RUN. Without falling. Preferably in shorts. My legs look like something from a V.C Andrews novel. (Note: I would have zero trouble being cast as the daughter in a ‘Flower’s in the Attic’ remake. I am ghastly.)

It’s all making me miserable. And I’m just at the point where I’m ready, and I mean really ready to kick up my training. I am pumped for the year ahead. Yes, I know it’s March. But honestly, the first 3 months of 2015 were a wash. My 2015 started a few weeks ago. Truth. I am finally planning my racing schedule now that I’m “In the Clear.”  I am also in the process of sorting out my eating, sleeping, and training as well. BIG CHANGES UP IN HERE!  It’s going to be a whole “Colby Reboot” of sorts. (Stay tuned. It will be colorful, I am sure. 🙂 ) For now? I just want some damn snow free pavement. Some beautiful trails. Some trees with buds on them. Maybe some grass? Hell. It doesn’t even have to be green.


In the meantime, take a look at this RIDICULOUS nonsense from The Onion. It made me giggle. Then I looked out the window, and wept.

What’s the weather like where you are right this minute? Have you ever stomped around like a petulant child when the weather didn’t go your way? Whatcha got on tap this weekend?

Sleepus Interruptus.

Here’s how last night went:Sleepy Time

2:01 am: Evil Beagle, the tricolored furnace, has wedged herself between me and My Other Half. I’m on the leg side. She is rigid, paws digging into my collar bones. We are eye to eye. She is snoring as if she is a morbidly obese drunk man with sleep apnea. She weighs 23 lbs. I shove her. She rolls over, entangled in my duvet. She’s a Beagle-rito. I have zero covers. I am freezing.

3:17 am: Evil Beagle and her deviated septum are by our feet. My Other Half is in the throes of a bad dream. In it, he is Manny Pacquiao. And this is a Title Fight. He is punching me and talking in tongues. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! I swear at him loudly. Punch back. He mutters he loves me, and blows an air kiss. He rolls over, still sleeping soundly. I have zero covers. I am freezing.

4:32 am:  The Good Dog is up. He is ticky-tacking all over the hard wood floor. I debate clipping his nails at that very moment. I don’t know where the clipper is. He sighs loudly. Life is so tough. He flops back down onto his million dollar tempur-pedic dog bed, and begins to give his undercarriage a bit of a wash. I am in hell. Only I can’t be, because I am freezing.

5:53 am. “Wake-up” to some sort of critter running fartleks. WHAT THE HELL? Is it on the roof? Is in the wall? Did baby critters just hatch? I’m freaking out. The Good Dog growls, runs down the hall way. It’s outside. I’m on the front lawn in my jammies wrapped in a leopard blanket looking at a squirrel about to pull a Flying Wallenda onto the feeder. Is there a hidden camera somewhere? AM I BEING PUNKED?!  Good Dog barks wildly then proceeds to pee on the tree which houses the feeder. You know, for good measure. It does the trick. Squirrel aborts mission. Peace has been restored.

5:59 am. I’m up. And have been. I pour myself a gallon of coffee and pad off into the shower, bleary eyed.

Amount of sleep:  Next to nil.

This has been the story of my life lately.  And guess what? It’s catching up with me. I am a haggard zombie. Even my skin looks tired. I have zero energy and my runs have been feeling it too. They’re “Meh” at best with dead tired legs.  If my legs had eyes, there would be two X’s in place of eyeballs. They’re tuckered.  I have had a negligible amount of sleep for MONTHS. First, it was because of stress, which I am happy to report ended with a big ol’ bouquet of good news. (Relive the joy, here.) And now? Other than last night’s MMA fight circus? It still isn’t back to normal. It’s not for lack of trying either.

I have tried to get my sleep back on track with some minor success. I popped melatonin, drank chamomile tea, cut back on caffeine, and took warm Epsom salt baths with lavender before bed time, all in a bid for Sweet Dreams. Despite the best of intentions, The Sand Man Lost.  Never being one to have sleep issues, I had naively assumed this disruption was transient. When stress went away, sleep would snuggle back in.  Oh no, Poodle.  That hasn’t been the story. Christ. I even bought a new mattress which is RIDICULOUSLY comfortable. I just need to get Princess Evil Beagle her own jazzy bed so she keeps her ass off of ours.

I’m just off.  I’m hoping the change of season- longer days, natural sunlight and temps above freezing- all help. I’m also going to take a good hard look at my sleep, diet, training, health- the whole shebang. Something isn’t right. From sleep on down. I feel like I never recovered well from the Ultra I ran SIX DAMN MONTHS AGO. That’s just pathetic. I’m just kind of broken. And I need a fix. STAT.

Do you feel like a Sleepy Slug lately? How many hours of sleep do you get per night? Has your bunk mate ever punched you in their sleep? Sheesh.  


Photobombed at the Golden GlobesHey Everybody! I’m over here!

I have finally thawed out enough to operate a goddamn keyboard. Sweet Jesus. My blood thinned. After 8 days in Super Sunny South Florida, I have finally returned to the cold hard reality that is New England Winter. I got off the plane and Jack Frost sucked the tan straight from my pores. Such. Shit. Holy temperature change. It took my breathe away. And not in a “I just scored Newtons for 50% off!” kind of way. 82 degrees one day, 9 degrees the next. That’s one hell of a delta.


My quick trip was a much needed respite from the past few months. The last few months of 2014 kicked me right in the spleen. Stress. Gah. Stress really does a number on you. Especially when it invades your sleep. That’s just wrong. As a result, come New Year’s Eve, I felt like a broken down, baby-puke-yellow 1972 Chevy El Camino. With bags under her eyes. So. Bad.

I was in dire need of some sunshine. So we headed to South Flaaahrida. And it was glorious. Readin’, runnin’ and relaxin’ with My Other Half. My 3 favorite things. Well, 4 if you count My Other Half. Actually, 5 if you put a cocktail in his hand. It was perfect any way you slice it. I had several Sunny Epiphanies in Florida. Epiphany might be too strong of a word. How about Shit That Occurred To Me While Running in Florida? That might be better. Honestly, I’m surprised I thought of anything. I seriously checked out. #gonefishing

1. I totally get why Old People head to South Florida. ‘Cuz it’s the FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH, PEOPLE! I can’t tell you how many FIT, fabulous older women were out walking, running and riding every damn day. They looked incredible. Happy, relaxed and fit. I’m talking well into their 80s. I’d fly south too, if I could stay active. I wasn’t sure if they’d always been active, or became active once they hit the Sunshine State, or just had a ton of work done? Who cared. They were moving. And smiling. I saw one Old Broad rocking a pair of “leather” running tights. No joke.


2. Running in 80 degrees less than 24hrs after running in single digits is BRUTAL. (But I quickly got over it. 🙂 ) I was dehydrated. Really dehydrated. My legs felt like stuffed sausages. I was overheated. I couldn’t get out of my own way. My El Camino Engine Sputtered. It was a wake up call. Note to self: Just because it’s cold out, doesn’t mean you stop drinking water, Fool. I’ve since upped my non-alcoholic beverage consumption. Even my skin thanks me.


3. I need a new bed. Or, a new stress free life. I slept like a baby while on vacation which is how I have always slept until recently. Stress is something, isn’t it? It gets right under your eyelids. Insomnia is NOT something I have been enjoying. It sucks. We did spy this interesting Bed Store, but it was closed or we would have taken a Test Snooze. Next level sleep? Sign us up!


4. I love to read. That’s not really a shock, it’s just that I haven’t read much for pleasure lately. I need to fix that STAT. Scientific journals aren’t exactly page turners, and that’s what I’ve been up to my ears in. If you haven’t read Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand, go right now and do so. Screw Angelina’s movie. The book will stick with you far longer. It was riveting. How can one human being endure that much mental and physical strain? To endure. Then recover. And really LIVE. Louis Zamperini was something. What an incredible story. I also read this hysterical piece of quality literature from The Oatmeal, The terrible and wonderful reasons why I run long distances. I laughed myself silly.


5. Sunshine. That’s all. Just sunshine. It brightens much more than the day. You never realize how much you need it until it is obscured by a Polar Vortex. 8 days of sunshine can cure just about anything. It’s the best drug there is. Here’s to a Bright New Year!


What is your idea of a perfect getaway? Have you ever gotten a case of the winter blahs? What’s your cure for the blahs: run, sun, a stiff cocktail or all 3?!?!

The Blog World Tour!

hello kitty bus

ALL ABOARD! Photo Credit:

So this is how slow we’ve been. We were invited to go on a Blog World Tour by Meg @ The Half and Half Blog TWO GODDAMN MONTHS AGO, and we’re JUST packing our bags and boarding the Hello Kitty Tour Bus TODAY. It was near Halloween. It’s freaking Christmas.  What can I say? My spirit animal is a sloth lately.  If there is one New Year’s Resolution to make and keep in 2015 it’s to follow Meg at The Half and Half Blog. That broad is funny. I mean really funny. And she’s Freshly Pressed which in my mind is like wining the Academy Award and showing up in a bad ass Marcesa Gown and getting the Best Dressed award to boot. Follow her. She’s going places. I mean it. Which is why I was GIDDY when she contacted Tina and I and asked us to participate in her Blog Tour. Contact her if you want to board the Blog Tour Bus with Megyonce. She’s driving. I asked her to stock our dressing room with green M&Ms and grapefruit Jo Malone candles. So there’s that too.

The Blog World Tour consists of the following:

  • Acknowledging the blogger/blog that invited you to the Blog Tour
  • Answer the following questions in your post:
    • What am I working on?
    • How does my work differ from others of its type/genre?
    • Why do I write what I do?
    • How does my wiring process work?
  • Choose a blogger (or two) to join in on the tour and give ’em props in your post.

In true It’s a Marathon AND a Sprint fashion, you’ll here from both Tina and I. I know, right?!?!?  TOTAL BOGO! Which is why you dig us I’m sure. Who doesn’t love a two-fer?

What am I working on?

Tina: . I’m working on the same thing I have been working on since 1969 – being the best version of myself that I can be. NOTE: best version of myself. Not best in the world. I’m not delusional. It’s a never-ending process and changes as I age. Freaking exhausting, sometimes frustrating, but I don’t know how to do things any differently. Can. Not. Stop. Trying. To. Evolve. Over time, I have worked on being the best reader, best soccer player, best student, best lawyer, best friend, best cook, best writer, best daughter, best sister, best girlfriend, best runner, best softball player, best tricycle rider, best babysitter that I could be. Nowadays, I try to be the best mother, best wife, best friend and best family member that I can be. I also WANT to try to be the best runner I can be and the best lawyer I can be these days, but I cannot move them up in the queue with the 4 listed above and don’t always have the time to work as hard in those areas as I would like. So I have to go with the best runner/lawyer I can be RIGHT NOW. Priorities, priorities – until they get me a 36-hour day, I have to make cuts. Could be in a very different place in a few years when my kids are older – I will probably have more time to expend on work and running. Interestingly, when I think of my priorities for being the “best at” now compared to, say, my 20’s, each of my current goals takes me outside of myself – connecting with others and giving parts of myself –which I think is a good place to be. I’m not working at external goals so much as working at relationships and bonds. I like where I am on this.

Colby: I’m just a squirrel tyrin’ to get a nut. I mean really. I’m just trying to be better. Isn’t that really what it’s about?  To evolve. To become a better listener. To become more patient. To stop swearing. (JK people! J-goddamn-K! )

How does my work differ from others of its type/genre?

Tina: How does my work differ? Mostly that I never stop. Am never content with where I am in terms of evolving as a person and always see room for improvement. Not one to rest on her laurels, that SeeTinaRun. Somewhat crazy and exhausting, but I know no different and it works for me. Even though I am never content to stay where I am, it doesn’t mean I am not content with my life. I love my life and am grateful for everything in it. I just like to keep growing.

Colby: My work differs because it’s OUR work. That’s what makes this Little Blog unique. We’re a blog of two. Two different points of view. Two very distinct voices. I will tell you this, we’re honest. This shit really happens to us. I would add genuine and authentic too but then I might sound like Gwyneth. #nogoop

Why do I write what I do? And what is my writing process?

Tina: I write about running because it is such a part of who I am. I am a Runner. I have always been a Runner. It has shaped me in ways that probably can’t even be described properly in words. I have always love to write and combining two of my passions just made sense. And I love it. My process is this – I usually think of something I want to write about on a run. Then, the next time I have a chance to sit at my computer, I write it down. Usually in one sitting. Review, edit and post. Not a lot of planning or organization. Once I have an idea, I find that it usually writes itself. If it doesn’t I find that I didn’t have anything good to write about in the first place.

Colby: This blog was Tina’s idea. From the moment she ran it by me, I was ON BOARD. I love having this creative outlet to talk about things I love, like running. And cycling. And anything else that moves me. Running has changed my life in more ways than I can adequately express. For both of us, that is true. Blogging sharpens the mind. Thank god. Otherwise, I’d be dull. And that would stink. Process? What process? I write like I talk- fast, tangential and all at once. Kind of like getting caught in a goddamn hail storm. If you met me, you’d probably be like: “Huh. This broad is exactly how I thought she’d be.”  Not much by way of surprises. This is really me.

Our nomination? Kimberley @ Black Dog Runs Disney. Tina and I love her. Partly because she’s a Connecticut girl (GO HUSKIES!), partly because she loves the Boston Red Sox, partly because she’s a runner and dog lover and mostly because SHE IS FUNNY. Go check her out. Read her stuff. And comment. I guarantee her reply will be insightful, spot on and FUNNY. Ok Kimberley, like Meg did to us, we are passing the proverbial torch. Blog On!!

Black Dog Runs Disney Photo


Sherman Klump Runs a Marathon. Or, How to Avoid a Severe Allergic Reaction Before Running 26.2 Miles.


The short answer is: Stay the hell out of goddamn 7-11.

I know exactly what you’re thinking:  What in the name of anaphylaxis is going on here?!?!?  Believe me, I was thinking it too. I may have even been screaming it out loud. Or at least I was in my head. I couldn’t alarm The Patient. All I can say to the makers of Benadryl is:

Thank You.
Thank you.
And did I say, Thank you?

I would send them a singing telegram if only I could hire Mr. Peanut to tap dance, juggle EpiPens and croon my deepest thanks. Instead this post will have suffice. Oh, I’ve got a story for ya.

Tina, our dear friend Diva Cindi, and I headed to Philadelphia this past weekend to get our Rocky on and run the full (Tina) and half (Colby and Diva Cindi) Philadelphia Marathon. We had this shit all planned for months. In fact, Tina has already posted her race recap which I strongly suggest you read HERE. Tina had registered for the full and I decided, “What the hell?” and registered for the half. I peer pressured Diva Cindi into it too. Like all BRFs do. (Best Running Friends, for those not “in the know”.) Perfect.

Girls Weekend at the Ritz!
Drinking copious amounts of beer post race!
Hair braiding and tickle fights!

This was our 2014 race season swan song. Secretly, I had planned on running my little heart out. I had my eye on a PR. But apparently my eye was also on an Achilles injury post ultra marathon, followed by an unrelated (surprise!) surgery which put me out of commission in the weeks leading up to the half. I’ll just put it this way: I haven’t had a good run lately. That is both literal and figurative. More on what is ailing me at another time. I promise. For me, this was either going to be the race of a lifetime or an absolute shit show. Total coin flip.

Tina on the other hand was prepared. Even though she said she didn’t feel like she was, I didn’t believe her. She always is. Trained and Tapered, Tina was ready. Somewhere along the Jersey Pike she exclaimed: I am really f*cking psyched for this marathon!  I *’ed out the profanity because it’s Tina. And she’s more Lady than Pirate, but put a couple of pints in that broad and she might as well have a patch on her eye and a hook for a hand. 20141126-061130-22290438.jpgSee us at the Expo all smilely and stuff? Christ, we are buzzing with excitement. That’s why it’s blurry. We mill around. Test stuff out. Buy a new, rad Janji cap from my friend Dave, laugh our heads off and realize we haven’t eaten. I glance at Tina. She is slightly dazed and pale.

What do you need?

She says she needs Gatorade. I suggest we eat. Because we haven’t. And someone is running awfully far in the morning. For as smart as our mother’s think we are, we are fools. Hypoglycemic, amateur fools. We head out. And walk promptly into a Goddamn Wawa 7-11. {Note: I now hate Goddamn 7-11s. I do love Wawas.) Tina makes a bee line for the Gatorade and chugs 32oz like she was at frat party in the mid-90s.

She heads to the nut aisle.

It is here Dear Reader, that our story takes a precipitous turn for the worst.
I hear this, with traces of a Boston accent:

{Perturbed} Plantah’s Almonds are $2 more?!?! I’m not paying two extra goddamn dollahs for a peanut wearin’ a top hat. No sir!!!

Instead of buying the brand she has eaten before, she buys the off brand nuts.

Meanwhile, en route to the Ritz, two dollahs richer, she reads the back of the bag as a PERSON WITH SEVERE ALLERGIES DOES, decides it’s fine, rips it open and downs the pack.

We leave.

{Small voice} I feel like I swallowed a nut wrong.


We walk.
She trips on a curb.
We make eye contact.
She’s quiet.
I arch an eyebrow.
We’re in the room.

{Wheezes calmly.} I am having an allergic reaction.

Diva Cindi and I look up from our race swag. sherman clump


Holy allergic reaction. She has morphed into Sherman Klump, the Nutty Professor. Her eye BALLOONS. Right before our very eyes. This is serious. Diva Cindi dives in her purse and throws two Bendryl and a packet of Equal at her. OH MY GOD TINA GRAB YOUR EPIPEN! Her response as she swallows the two Benedryl and a Claritin?

{Rasps} NO! If I use my EpiPen, I’ll have to go to the hospital and then I won’t be able to run tomorrow.

Now. There are 100s of responses to make upon hearing that nonsense, beginning with: I’ve called 911. They’re admitting you to an insane asylum after the epinephrine shot and steroids because you are being totally OUT OF YOUR EFFEN MIND. I JUST 5150’d YOUR CRAZY ASS!

Allergies are some scary stuff. They’re not funny. And believe me, if this story didn’t have a happy ending, I wouldn’t be calling her Sherman Klump. I’d be rocking in the corner, sucking my thumb, penning her eulogy and not posting this…

Because that’s what really happened. After several minutes post mega dose of Benedryl, she ASSURED us she could breathe. Her wheezing subsided. She still kind of looked like a starving puffer fish, but insisted she was feeling better. Instead, WE insisted she throw on her sunglasses for supper. For Christ sake, she was hideous. Besides, we needed to gain control of this ridiculous situation. Glasses on, Lady! We don’t care if it’s dark and you can barely see. We have an image to protect! BRFs. They RULE!

Thankfully, all ended well. After eating her height in pancakes, Chilly Willy put her swollen head on the table, and promptly nodded off in her syrup. She woke up radiant, with a killer Benedryl hangover and proceeded to run one hell of a marathon. I have to be honest. She qualified for Boston her first time running a marathon yet, I am more proud of her for running Philly. There is no one like her. And I’m honored she is my best friend.

Her allergist appointment is next week just after my cardiologist appointment and short stint in rehab to combat Xanax and alcohol addiction. She kills me that goddamn Tina.

Tapering Out Loud

I’m officially Tapering.


How in the name of The Tarahumara did THAT happen?

Good grief. Did I even train for a 50k? I can’t remember. It’s all a goddamn blur. My legs are exhausted, so something happened. I feel stronger, so I’m guessing the hill repeats worked. I have a case of The Nerves already, so the VT50 has got to be close. It’s kinda like being in college. You know when you wake up hung over, in last night’s clothes, on your buddy’s futon with a mustache drawn on your face in Sharpie?

Kind of like this…


Me, muttering: I guess I had a good time?

{Staggers to mirror.}

Me, bellowing: Oh yeah I did!

It’s kind of just like that actually. A big old: WHAT. THE. HELL. Why didn’t someone stop me before it was too late?? So over the next two weeks I solemnly swear I will make a valiant attempt to keep my shit together. Here is the plan: The way I see it, it’s going to go one of two ways.

1. Lighter, quality runs. Some hill repeats. Core work. Paws up. Lotsa sleep. And an increase in carbs.


2. Several anxiety attacks. Self doubt. Phantom aches. A hysterical breakdown. Insomnia. And an increase in carbs.

Either way, I’m ready. 🙂

How do you combat The Taper Crazies? What is the one Taper Ritual you do every time? Have you ever woken up with a mustache drawn on your face? {Fact: I have not. And here you thought I had. Silly Rabbit.}

NEWSFLASH! Tina and I are on Twitter!!! I know. Welcome to 2014 Girls. Follow us on Twitter! Here we are!

Super Saturated


I have hit my Pumpkin Spice Saturation Point. And it’s not even goddamn fall yet. In fact, this post is 3 weeks late because I actually hit my PSSP in August. AUGUST. That’s summer. I believe the day I hit it, it was 90 degrees with 90% humidity and I had just cut a long run short because I was a dehydrated, delirious mess. That day did not scream “BRING ON THE NUTMEG PUMPKIN-Y HEAVINESS!! HOORAY!”  Maybe I could have choked down an ICED pumpkin spice coffee (on the beach, in a bikini) but certainly not a hot one. The Facts:

  • Halloween Costumes were gone by the end of July.
  • I saw a turkey, a Pilgrim and a cornucopia in August.
  • And Santa better thrown on his board shorts because I spied his jolly old ass a week ago.

What is the goddamn rush?

Slow down.

For the love of Autumn, slow down. Please. We’re all rushed enough. Can we not ENJOY the Seasons? Can’t we happily anticipate the Holidays, without having them jammed down our throats, months in advance? Can’t we enjoy seasonal shit in the the season they are supposed to actually occur? They’re killing me. And I love pumpkin spice. I do. Let that be known. But honest to gourds, shit is getting crazy. In case you haven’t noticed, here’s what’s new on the Pumpkin Spice Horizon. It’s kind of a natural progression here- breakfast, snacks, happy hour and (cough) desert.

1. Bigelow, Pumpkin Spice Tea. Not too crazy. Nice. Yummy. Hot tea.

pumpkin spice tea

2. Eggo, Limited Edition, Pumpkin Spice Waffles. Betcha they’re not all that bad, in a sugary card board kinda way.

pumpkin spice waffles

3. Limited Batch Chobani Pumpkin Spice Greek Yogurt. This might not be all that bad. They might be on to something with this one. Is ‘pumpkin spice’ the new ‘honey’ in Greece? I’m going out on a limb and saying, No.

pumpkin spice chobani

4.Thomas’ Limited Edition Pumpkin Spice Bagels. I’ve had these. They ain’t bad. Like at all.

pumpkin spice bagels

5. Limited Edition Kraft Philadelphia Pumpkin Spice Flavored Cream Cheese. Spread this on your Pumpkin Spice Bagel and you might OD. That might be a bit much.

pumpkin spice cream cheese

6. So Delicious Dairy Free Pumpkin Spice Coconut Milk. Come on. This is getting to be a bit much.

pumpkin spice coconut

7. Planter Pumpkin Spice Almonds. WHAT? Hey. Wait a minute. Now those I really might try….

pumpkin spice almonds8. Pumpkin Pie Spice Pringles. By the way, they’re artificially flavored in case you thought Pumpkin Pie Spice was a naturally occurring substance.

pumpkin spice pringles 9. Pumpkin Spice Hershey’s Kisses. Oh come on. You’re killing me.

pumpkin spice kisses

10. Pumpkin Spice M&Ms. Even the M&M looks goddamn horrified. He is so over this.

pumpkin spice mm 11.  Pumpkin Spice Oreo’s. Why do I get the sneaking suspicion that these bad boys taste like an Autumn Yankee Candle?

pumpkin spice oreos

12. HIT Supplements Pumpkin Spice Premium Whey Blend. Become a Giant Pumpkin. NOW. Seasonal Supplements. Yup. Seasonal Supplements, guaranteed to PUMP you up. See what I just did right there? pumpkin spice whey protein

13. Starbuck’s Pumpkin Spice Latte Ice Cream. I’m sorry. I think I just fainted. NOW THIS ONE I AM BUYING. Perhaps in bulk. I vote this the Number One addition to the Pumpkin Spice Line Up. And when is it supposedly going to hit the shelves? IN NOVEMBER. When it should, dammit. Who knows. This post is light on research. It’s probably already out. And was in April. Let’s not fact check among friends, shall we?

pumpkin spice ice cream

14. Pinnacle Pumpkin Pie Vodka. Now we’re talking! And check out that martini. Shit’s got a crust. Impressive. I think I just got Type II Diabetes at the mere sight of that cocktail. Holy Sweetness.

pinnacle pumpkin pie vodka

15. Durex Pumpkin Spice Condom. Wait. What the?!?!?  COME ON. 🙂

pumpkin spice condom

Because THAT’S how ridiculous it is out there. This concludes my rant. Thank you for reading. Now back to running….

Have you OD’d on Pumpkin Spice? Have you tried any of these? (Not the condom., Silly. That was an internet myth.) Am I missing any REALLY ridiculous ones?