Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen: No. 3

Now, I tried to keep the countdown to things that happened earlier in the year, at least, in the first half of the year or so. But a recap of '09 just would not be complete with what I consider my greatest non-race run of my life.

It just wouldn't.

*****
Originally published Nov. 23

Motivational Mondays (Nov. 23)

I normally set Mondays aside for a Motivational Monday post, and while today is not exactly identical to other such posts, I believe this post to be quite motivational. So instead of postponing this a day to include something that is solely to motivate, I'll let this serve that purpose. It's long but it was a long run after all...

***
Sunday morning was not like any other morning. For one, I was in Seattle on a business trip. Add in my restless sleep and it was a unique start to the day. I first saw the alarm clock at about 3:20 a.m. and after that, I barely slept.

18 miles. And it's cold.

It had been rather chilly upon my arrival in the Emerald City on Saturday. I wore a beanie and gloves most of the day and was still rather cold. But this morning, I would have to deal with the cold and the rain somehow. I first look outside my hotel window before 4 a.m. and noticed a lack of rain, though the parking lot was quite wet. But every time I looked outside afterward, there was a steady drizzle.

The weather forecast had called for temperatures in the low 40s, rain and wind.

Great. As if I need something else to deal with.

The thought of the wind jarred me out of bed sometime around 6:30. The wind was supposed to start blowing hard where I would run, the Cedar River Trail, sometime around 10 or 11 that morning, so I realized that the sooner I left, the more likely it would be to avoid that.

Time to get dressed.

Pushing thoughts of how drenched I would get aside, I got dressed. First, I taped the nips. Last thing I need is to have that rear its ugly head again. Then, I put on my skin-tight undershirt. On top of that, the moisture wicking shirt I picked up on Friday. Then, my brand-new jacket I got as a gift on Saturday at the stadium. I wore my running underwear, one of my better pairs of shorts, a new pair of socks that was supposed to keep my feet dry and my shoes. Got my gloves as well, a hat, Gu, The Garmin, fuel belt.

I walked outside and was surprised to feel that it wasn't the blast of cold ice I expected. Counting that as good fortune, I got in the car and zipped off to find the start point.

Now where is that place?

I was looking for a road that I ultimately must have passed up. Two freeways had spilled me onto the road I was on now, but there was no sign of the next street. But I spotted my destination, the Cedar River Trail, and remembered reading how there were parking spots all along the course, so an opening ahead adjacent to the trail was where I finally parked the car.

You ready for this?

It was around 7:20 or so by the time I parked. The rain had not let up but it was mostly a drizzle, nothing like Ray Bradbury's Hard Rain. I turned on The Garmin, got my Gu together, filled up the fuel belt bottles with Gatorade and stepped outside.

Aw, this ain't bad.

Initially, it wasn't. Yes, it was cold. Much colder than I'm used to during my Sunday morning runs. But I wasn't quite a ball of ice. I felt good. Prepared.

Let's do this.

After several steps along the trail, I took off. I didn't want to run fast but I guess I couldn't help it. My pace was under nine minutes when I looked at The Garmin the first time, so I slowed down. I suppose it was the anxiety and pent-up energy I was releasing.

The trail cut a path between the road I'd taken and a series of houses. Above, the sky was a gray canopy of moisture. Beyond that, there were unconfirmed reports of a sun but I never was able to verify the existence of said sun. The canopy couldn't hold all its moisture so we benefited from that underneath. Leaves covered the trail, but aside from a few puddles the trail was visually enticing.

Somewhere, my Lopers are running under sunny skies.

Of course, the Lopers were running their own 18-mile course, and while it was the same distance as I'd run, my run was not quite like theirs. Still, I felt strengthened knowing that they were out there tackling their own 18-run monster.

Oh my. Look at that.

There up ahead, loudly announcing its presence, was the Cedar River in all its glory. This wasn't the streams we have at home. This was a bona fide river, slicing a path between evergreen trees and other weathered vegetation. I felt humbled by the river. I wanted to salute or somehow acknowledge the mighty river, but just kept running. I wondered how many people had depended on this river, in this very spot, 400 years ago. 500 years ago.

Aw man, don't do this now.

Jarring my memories of some scantily-clad natives taking fish out of the river was silence. I'd had my iPod on but suddenly it ceased playing music. The iPod is almost four years old, and it's been through a lot so it goes out on me often. But this was not the time to be left alone. I ran about a half mile when I decided that it was worth the effort to take it off and try and reset it. Careful not to allow water on my shirt, I zipped open the jacket long enough to take the iPod out of the carrier and reset it. Once it got going again, I placed it inside the jacket pocket.

Stupid thing.

Up ahead, I saw a figure. I'd been alone on the trail the whole time and wondered if anyone else was out there somewhere, running towards or away from me. But this confirmed that indeed I was not alone. The figure ahead was moving quickly towards me, running at a much faster pace than me and we said hello to each other when we crossed paths. I smiled broadly.

I'm not the only crazy guy out here, I guess.

I was past the six-mile mark and had not been running an hour yet. Probably too fast of a pace but figured I'd start to take it easy. The trail now had snaked underneath a bridge and spilled me out on the other side when...

Hey, that lady looks familiar.

Coming to a halt off her own run was someone I'd seen pictures of just recently. Kerrie of mom vs. Marathon was smiling, saying hi and I smiled back, surprised to have seen her. She introduced me to her running partner, Zoe of Run Zoe Run, and we chatted briefly about the weather. It hadn't really rained on Saturday but of course now it was raining.

"It's okay, though. I might as well experience Washington and what it's all about. Bring it," I told the two local ladies.

We posed for a quick picture or four. Kerrie's phone couldn't quite get us all in frame but finally a sideways tilt of the phone worked wonders. She was gracious enough to share the picture with me.

We parted ways and I was once again on my own. I was not quite yet at seven miles but I felt energized, invigorated, enthralled by having ran across Kerrie. It's a moment I'll carry with me forever.

And she has no choice but to run in this crap.

Quite true. Kerrie and Zoe and the other Seattle bloggers I'd stumbled upon have no choice but to run in the rain. Next week in fact is a half-marathon that I believe they are all training for. Kerrie and Zoe had already ran about nine or 10 miles by the time I'd caught up to them. I'm lucky. And I felt guilty telling them that my marathon was going to be in Huntington Beach. The low that day is usually 48 degress, in other words, about eight degrees warmer than it was when I stepped out of the car this morning.

Okay, that really sucks.

The iPod had stopped once more. I tried to resuscitate it but no luck. The screen looked strange, and since it couldn't and wouldn't last even half the distance, I decided to scrap it and do the run myself. Quickly, I came upon a gazebo that was off the path a bit. I was at around 8.92 miles and figured I'd run to it, and when I got to 9.0 miles, I stopped to take a drink and gather myself.

Now you just have to run back to the car.

While it wasn't that easy, that's what I needed to do. The scenery had changed a bit. I was still near the river but I'd taken a path under a bridge so I was on the other side of the street from where I'd started. The rain was still a pleasant companion and had started to take its toll on me. My shoes had been fine up until that point. My feet were becoming increasingly cold and I don't know if it was water and cold or just the cold temperatures but they were certainly cold.

Soon, I had gone underneath the bridge once more and was back on the other side of the street. I wondered where Kerrie and Zoe had gone off to. I pictured a dry, warm setting with coffee and conversation... precisely the opposite of my own experience.

swish swish, swish swish, swish swish, swish swish
thud thud, thud thud, thud thud, thud thud

Who needed the iPod when I had my own jacket and shoes to make a unique brand of music? Okay, it was sound, not really music, but it was rhythmic.

I was slowing down. I was nearing Mile 12 and was at or close to two hours. By the time The Garmin read 12.0 miles, I was on the north side of 2 hours. My thought of finishing the run in under three hours was gone, and even though it wasn't much of a goal, I wondered how long I'd run.

You've never ran more than three straight hours before. You gonna make it?

My feet were increasingly colder. No longer did I have shoes and socks but rather a mass of cold. I tried to ignore it until, at around mile 14, I couldn't any more.

My feet hurt.

I admitted my pain but I didn't want to think about my feet. I didn't want to think about my legs or my back or my arms or anything. I tried to stay focused, tried to use the bill of my hat as a target, to keep my eyes directly underneath and pointing forward. No use in worrying about my feet. There would be time to worry about them afterward.

Three more miles. Come on man, you laugh at three miles.

While I don't think of three-mile runs as a joke, I do quite often run more than three miles. Actually, most every time out I cross the 3.0-mile mark. But this time, of course, I'd already had 15 miles under my belt. And then there was the rain. The relentless rain. It was mostly a drizzle to be honest. A drizzle that at times grew a bit stronger. And other times it even cleared up. But it would have taken a long time to fill a bucket with rainwater under this sort of drizzle.

But it was enough to drench you after it pelted you for nearly three hours. And drenched I was. I couldn't feel what part of my face was sweat and what part was rain. My hat had served its purpose, taking the brunt of the rain and keeping it out of my eyes. I never got a drop of rain that hit me in the eyes.

The river was now more audible than it was when I'd had my iPod but I couldn't hear it too much over the shouts from my body. The trees and vegetation that had greeted me on my way out were now encouraging me to finish despite the rain's attempt to slow me down.

Two more miles. That's nothing.

I had been stopping for short walk breaks every mile for the last few miles. It grew harder to do so, simply because I had to start running again, usually with an audible grunt. My cold feet were not responding well to the constant pounding and my pace was slow. But I had to power through that. I thought of my blog buddies, my loyal readers who are there to support me in all my running adventures. I thought of the new Seattle-area bloggers I found, how helpful and encouraging they'd been and how great it was to have met a pair of them. I thought of the Lopers, who were probably done at that point, celebrating their own conquest. And I thought of my family and how Yvie had wished me good luck on my run on Friday before I said bye to her.

There was absolutely no way I was going to let any of them down. Nope. Not a chance. I might have been in pain, might have been cold and wet and tired and achy but I was going to finish this run no matter what. That's one thing I've learned throughout my running. I don't do this just for myself. I feel it's an obligation of mine to see my runs through for my friends and family. I refuse to fail, to fall short and then have to explain myself to anybody. That's just not an option.

Like a carrot dangling in front of a horse, I saw my car up ahead. I knew I could do it. The Garmin had read 17.55 the last time I'd looked at it but I did not let my gaze wander down until I got to a bridge very close to where I'd started. I slogged to the bridge, feet aching.

17.95

Oh my God! I'm so close.

A few more painful steps later and The Garmin read 18.0.

Oh, I'm done. It's over.

I shut The Garmin off, panted audibly and groaned a few times as I tried to gather my footing.

You did it.

Motivational Mondays (Dec. 28)

Guess what Friday is?

Yeah, a new year. A new decade actually. Jan. 1, 2010. Wow. Can't believe it's going to be 2010 already.

With a new year comes the dreaded resolutions. It's like mandatory to make them, isn't it? Well, not really, but I do go back and forth between the significance of them. They really can be important and memorable but at the same time they can be meaningless and forgotten quickly.

Like most things, they are what you make of them. So, if you want to make good use of your resolutions, I'd suggest making resolutions that are A) realistic and B) specific.

A poor resolution then would be something like "I want to lose weight" (not specific) or "I want to run 2,500 miles" (not realistic). "I want to run more often" is something that is realistic but not specific. By "more often" does that mean twice a day? Twice a week? What is "often?"

And also, it's probably not the best idea to make too many resolutions as they could get lost in the shuffle. (Resolution number 225, section 5, line 7 states that I need to do make dinner five times a week, and I shall meet it).

Keep it simple, specific and realistic. If you're going to make resolutions, the last thing you want to do is to set yourself up for failure. One of the resolutions I've been kicking around is to run more days than I don't. Or you could say that it's to run at least four times a week. But I don't want to set myself up for failure with that because I go through some busy stretches of time during the year where running two or three times a week is an accomplishment.

So when we're all ready to make resolutions and put them down for everyone to see, keeping a couple of things in mind will only help start the new year off on the right foot.

Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen: No. 4

Into the top four we go...

This might have been the most personal post I shared this year. Not really in terms of family or anything like that, but just about the inner workings of my minds and my feelings, things that I don't normally share with many people.

It's funny because, while many, many things have happened since early March, this sentiment hasn't really changed or evolved. It's as if I could have written this post yesterday, because I feel the same exact way today as I did in early March.

******
Originally published on March 8

How I See Myself

I'm going to let you in on something, a feeling from the nether-regions of my brain and my soul.

My perception is skewed. It is completely out of whack.

That doesn't sound like a problem, and maybe calling it a problem is a bit excessive, but it exists. And I struggle with it sometimes.

Perception. How I perceive myself. How I view myself. It's just a little bit off kilter.

I don't necessarily mean that in a good way or even a bad but understandable way. Good would be "My perception of myself is that I'm lean and have the body of someone who obviously works out." Bad but understandable would be "I am dead sexy."

No, it's not any thinking like that really. Sometimes, a lot actually, I feel big. I feel like I never dropped way more than 100 pounds. I feel like I'm still a big guy and that I'm starting to inflate.

I think that one of the biggest fears in my life is a fear that I'll put all my weight back on, or even a lot of it. Or even 20 pounds. I fear that I'll weigh more than 200 pounds again. It's a legitimate fear. And it feels like the beginnings of weight loss aren't far away. I feel as if I stop running or don't work out in a few days that it will be akin to having my fat-burning mechanics stop and for my body to start storing fat once again.

It's irrational, I know. It doesn't make sense. I run a lot. I wear size 32 pants! I fit in clothes that I would never thought possible, and when I put on some of the few clothes I have left from back in the day, I literally swim in them.

But don't try to talk sense into the nonsensical. My brain won't have it.

You see, for the longest time I heard that I was fat. I heard that I should exercise more, that I needed to lose weight, that I did not take care of myself. That I was lazy. Overweight. Chubby. Chunky. Just plain FAT.

Around high school was when it was the worst. Extended family members would tell me at family gatherings that I weighed too much, that I needed to drop some weight, that if all I ate was hamburgers.

So I believed them. They wouldn't tell me that I was fat if I wasn't fat, right? Time, though, has a way of showing you that your flawed way of thinking was just that, flawed.

Here is Yours Truly, circa 1991.

That's me in the middle, with the gray shorts and no shirt. I remember this picture as clear as the day it was taken. We used to go to this lake, Lake Perris, a great deal. I loved going there because it meant volleyball, splashing in the water, spending time with family and, of course, good food. But it also meant having to take my shirt off.

You want to know why I have my arms crossed? Because I thought I was fat, and that if I kept my arms at my side that I would look horrible in the picture. I seriously thought I was fat. I look at that teenager now and, I don't know, but I don't think that's fat. Or overweight even.

But of course, I didn't know any better. Before too long, I was big, well over 200 pounds. Then I was really big. Then, I was really, really big. I don't know when I crossed over from 200-plus to pushing 300 and then well over three hundred pounds. Then what?

At some point, it didn't really matter to me whether I was overweight or not. Because I had always been fat, from grade school all the way up to high school. Except that I hadn't been. And then when I really was severely overweight, it didn't really matter because I'd been hearing "You really need to lose weight" my whole life. That ceased having an impact on me years and years ago.

So now that I'm lean and have the look of someone who exercises regularly, I still have this mental baggage. See, I always perceived myself to be overweight. And I still perceive myself to be overweight because, well, not sure. Old habits die hard? In this case, old thoughts don't just vanish.

I guess in some ways it's just me trying to be humble, trying to stay grounded and not feel like I'm suddenly some Adonis. But mostly, though, it's just a lifelong thing of hearing that I'm overweight. I'd say from fourth grade until I was 30-something, I felt overweight. I heard that I was overweight. So now that I'm 30-something still, not a lot of time has passed between when I really was overweight to when I was in the average category in terms of body fat.

So while I knocked off 120-plus pounds in 20 months, it might take a bit longer to slim my perception down too.

At least nobody calls me fat anymore.

*****

Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen: No. 5

And now on to the countdown.

I created a monster with this one. Let me get to the post and I'll be back on the other side to explain some of the fallout.

****
Originally published Aug. 27

Daddy-Daughter Work Day

I had the chance to take Kennedy out to work with me today, out for a soccer practice. It was fun having her go out there with me now as to before when she was young and extra squirrely. She's still a squirrel but at least now she can be bribed with promises of DVDs and chicken nuggets for lunch. Bribed I guess might be a strong word but it's a consequence thing. If she's good, she gets something good in return. If not, she doesn't.

Anyway, one of the cool things was having the chance to take this picture.

She doesn't realize how famous the soccer player is. She only knows he was a soccer player.
****

Okay, if you don't know who that is, then I don't know what to tell you.

But Kennedy now knows very well who that is. And she giggles like the girl that she is whenever she sees herself with that picture and says she wants to marry him. Yeah, marry him.

You and every other female with a pulse, Kennedy.

The coolest thing about this though was when I was getting ready take this picture. After I politely asked David Beckham if he'd be willing to take a picture with my daughter, he said "Of course." And then he told Kennedy "My, don't you look pretty."

And how many other females can say that David Beckham called them pretty? So I suppose my daughter may be in some exclusive company after all.

Muddy Runner Countdown: No. 6

2009 was a year of travel for me. I got to visit two countries that I hadn't visited prior in Costa Rica and Canada and got in a trip to Mexico City as well. Three international trips for LB! Woo hoo! And that's not even counting Seattle, Phoenix and Las Vegas...

Anyway, Costa Rica was a treat and one I hope I can repeat sometime soon. Why?

Well, this post didn't make it on the list for nothing.

***
Originally published June 8

Luscious Beaches

Costa Rica translates to rich coast in English, and we were first-hand witnesses to how rich this coast was. Nature can be amazing and beautiful, and nature sure didn’t disappoint down there.

The beaches here are in Manuel Antonio, and these first ones are inside the park itself. The water was quite warm. In fact, Mrs. LB said that Yvie prefers her bathwater less warm than how warm the water was.

What was amazing me to was that there was the water and the beach and then all of the sudden, vegetation. Lots of it. And that’s just the spots where the was actual beach. A lot of times, it’s just vegetation.

Now, in all the pictures above – the ones with beach anyway – do you notice anything? Or, more appropriately, do you notice anything that’s not there? People.

When we first got to this particular beach, it was about 10 a.m. on Friday morning, and that was near the end of our tour through Manuel Antonio. Inside the park, there are two beaches that are only accessible to park patrons. The general public can’t get in. The park closes at 4 pm (early, because it gets dark early and there are no lights) so if you get there early enough, you can have the entire beach to yourself.

We left the park and came back later to go swimming and by that time more people were there, but it wasn’t packed or anything. Not even close.

The first day we were in Quepos/Manuel Antonio, we visited the beach and the public beach was just as awesome, albeit a bit more crowded.

Okay, that’s about as crowded as it got while we were there, but that’s not exactly crowded. Over on the side closest to the park, there were some rock formations.

The part with the rocks really wasn’t a great place to go swimming (because of the rocks) but that didn’t detract from its beauty.

At all.

From Us To You

Merry Christmas!!

If you are reading this on Dec. 25, thank you for taking time out of this blessed day to visit my trusty blog.

The girls and I thought we'd bring some special friends to help say Merry Christmas.

The girls and Princess Aurora.

The girls and Snow White.

And the girls and the Mad Hatter and Alice.

Feliz Navidad!

Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen: No. 7

Next on the Dirty Dozen is a post about my daughter Yvie.

What can I say? I'm a sucker for my family.

*****
Originally published Oct. 1

Life Changing Date

Six years ago today, our lives changed forever.

Mrs. LB was pregnant with our first child, and while we knew things were going to be different, we had no idea how different they would become. We had been married more than four years at that point and had enjoyed life as a married, childless couple. We'd done some traveling and had changed a few jobs but mostly we enjoyed those carefree days because we were only responsible for ourselves. We went to the movies a lot. We ate out a lot. We slept in on the weekends.

But in January of '03, Mrs. LB was sick. Very sick. Throwing up sick. For a Christmas present to Mrs. LB, I'd arranged a weekend stay in Ensenada, Mexico, for us and we were both looking forward to it. That entire weekend, though, was spent with her throwing up and unable to move and function, so I spent most of the time watching TV.

We soon found out upon returning that she was indeed pregnant. We'd been sorta trying to start a family but hadn't had much luck. Until then. The rest of 2003 then seemed like a countdown. It would be the end of one part of our lives and the beginning of another.

As the year grew on, we were anxious to find out the gender, but several ultrasounds showed nothing. I don't remember if one of the ultrasound techs told us that we could be having a girl or I got it stuck in my head because I wanted a girl very badly, but we kind of assumed that we'd be having a girl. Both Mrs. LB and I have three brothers and no sisters, so a girl would have been special.

The due date came and went, and changed. First, it was Sept. 12. Then, it was Sept. 26. Finally, on Sept. 30 our doctor told us that the baby was in the breech position, and a natural delivery would not be possible. So Mrs. LB would have to deliver via C-section. He scheduled us for an appointment on Oct. 1, 2003. Now, up until this point, Mrs. LB had felt no contractions. Nothing. But the doctor had hooked her up to some sort of apparatus and it showed there that she was having very mild contractions, but having them nonetheless, which is why he wanted us back soon.

That night, we went out to dinner and a movie. We got home after 8, turned off the lights and went to bed at around 9. The house was quiet and peaceful. It's never been the same since.

On Oct. 1, a little after 1 p.m. Mrs. LB gave birth to our daughter. She was so small, covered in ick and crying. The doctor who'd taken her out lifted her very quickly so I could see before nurses whisked her away. That was it. I was a changed man. I knew everything would change. I knew that little fragile life depended on me and Mrs. LB, and that we had to deliver. But I was ready. I'd been ready.

We'd decided that, if it was a girl, we'd name her after our grandmothers, so we named her Yvonne Esperanza.

We called her Yvie for short.

Happy Birthday Yvie. I love you.

Join Us On A Ride

I'm glad you all enjoyed the Christmas Parade on Wednesday, but how about we all take a ride together? Yvie and Kennedy will be there, and we hope you will too.

It's about 12 minutes long but it's got an intermission, so if you need to take a break, we'll understand. We don't mind stopping.



And here's the second part...



Hope you enjoyed the ride!

Muddy Runner Countdown: No. 8

At number eight in the Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen is one of the many motivational posts I wrote this year.

I felt this one was memorable because I was able to post a picture of myself that was very embarrassing, a picture that haunted me for some time. Part of the process of moving on from the person I used to be to the person I am now was posting this picture.

It's a really terrible picture, one of the many horrid pictures of me that are around. But it's nice that I'm not that man anymore.

*******
Originally published March 9

Motivational Mondays (March 9)

It's a cycle.

This whole weight-loss thing has been a cycle. I would say a "vicious" cycle but there's nothing negative about it, well, except the lost weight itself.

Eating well and exercising drives weight loss. Weight loss becomes a motivation to continue eating well and exercising, which drives more weight loss, which becomes more motivating...

At some point the weight loss is minimal. There's not much to lose when you have, what 15-22 percent body fat depending on age and gender. At least to us normal people.

But then, it becomes a little more difficult because you are eating well and exercising but you don't see much drastic change in weight. And if you do, it's because the weight is going in the wrong direction. But that spurns more eating right, exercising, it drives weight maintenance which becomes just as good as weight loss and that is just as motivating and that forces you to eat right, exercise...

See what I mean about a cycle?

I was thinking about this recently as I feel I gained control again over my cravings. It was a little difficult sometimes recently to cook because I found myself picking at the cheese or taking an extra bite of some other ingredient while cooking. Of course, I didn't need all those extra pickings (especially the cheese, no matter how tasty it was) but they were just cravings that I couldn't resist.

But last week was good in that I took out the ingredients, got what I needed and put everything promptly back in the refrigerator or cupboard or wherever. No extra nibbles missing. On Friday, I weighed in at 186.7, my post-workout weight, which was a drop of a few pounds from the last time I'd weighed myself.

I'm back in the cycle 100 percent now. I'm confident now as well, and confidence plays a big role in weight loss. I had zero confidence when I weighed 300-plus pounds, but now that I'm at 186 and dropping hopefully to around 180, I have a sense of confidence. Now, I'm not saying I'm ready to model any underwear or anything, come on now, but I know I tackled something challenging and it leads me to have a belief in myself that I can do things I previously thought weren't doable, such as running long distances.

I don't ever forget how I used to look. It's an unfortunate image that is not only ingrained in my mind and my person but a sad vestige of a previous life that featured little confidence and low self-esteem.

That picture, that entire outing was the last straw. I had no choice but to change, and I finally felt like doing something. It's a horrendous picture, an embarrassing picture even to this day. I never thought of posting it online but have been toying with the idea for weeks now, to post it, exorcise those demons, perhaps inspire others who have just as much weight to lose or nowhere near that amount of weight to lose.

What's that cliche? If you put your mind to it, you can do anything. Well, it's corny and played out, but dammit, it's true.

Eat right. Exercise. Lose weight. Feel good. Feel motivated. Eat right. Exercise. Lose weight. Feel good. Feel motivated. Eat right. Exercise. Feel good....

Nothing vicious about it.

*******

Christmas Parade

It's two days before Christmas and I don't know about you but I've still got shopping to do. No! Nevermind the sweets that I need to bake and presents that need wrapping...

Anyway, amidst the hustle and bustle of the season, how about we all take in a parade? Disneyland style, of course...

****

Presenting A Christmas Fantasy parade! I'm glad you could all make it.

The toy soldiers trumpet their horns for all to hear.

Pluto and Donald put up their tree for all to see.

Mrs. Claus says hello.

Snowflakes galore.

How about having this tree in your living room?

Dancing snowmen strut their stuff.

And there's Mickey and Minnie!

Hi Mickey! Nice trees!

Anyone up for a Gingerbread snack?

Well, here's how you make 'em.

Say hi to the Gingerbread Men, Kennedy.

How about a Gingerbread House, Goofy style?

I'm sure Goofy can whip you up a Gingerbread House of your own.

Oh, did I mention this doubles as a ball? Here is Princess Ariel with her beau, Eric.

And there's Cinderella and Prince Charming.

Mademoiselle Belle and Monsieur Beast.

And there's Princess Aurora and Prince Phillip attend as well.

And Christmas wouldn't be complete without toys, right? How about Woody riding his wooden horse?

And how about a ride to infinity, and beyond?

Oh my, the end of the parade is upon us. How would you answer that question underneath the clock?

Maybe Santa can help you figure out that answer.

And the small and lovely little animals bid you fare thee well.

Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen: No. 9

And here were are with the Dirty Dozen once more. Next up is my recap of the Camp Pendleton Mud Run.

I have to be honest: this last Mud Run doesn't hold great memories for me. It is and forever will be tainted with the loss of my beloved Polar. I replaced it, but did so with some junky version of the watch I got off eBay. I used to plan runs and workouts around my heart rate and it was an integral part of my training plan, and all that ended abruptly and prematurely.

But there will be plenty of time in the future to get back into heart rates and stuff like that.

Still, the Mud Run itself was a great time and a great run, and it was overall a positive experience even if my watch was a victim of the course.

****
Originally published June 14

LB Conquers the Mud Run

Having run the Camp Pendleton Mud Run in October, I wasn't as nervous on Saturday as I had been before the first event. I'd trained hard for that one, though, and this time around the last stretch of time before the race featured a weeklong trip outside the country. But a four-mile run on Wednesday gave me the confidence I needed to head into the Mud Run with a full head of steam.

The morning was cool, downright chilly at times, but that was mostly a positive. No running under a blazing sun, as I'd feared when I first signed up for the race in January. The forecast was in the low 60s, great running weather. Except, of course, we were going to get absolutely drenched.

We were rounded up like cattle and steered into the starting gate with about 30 minutes to go before the race. Now, if you want to get a decent position and not fight crowds for the first stretch, it's beneficial to get there early and stand as close to the start line as possible. There was a Marine on a microphone riling up the runners, raising everyone's spirits and giving instructions. I remembered Sue Ann Jaffarian's awesome blog post when he said the following:

"Here are your instructions: You start the race alive, you finish the race alive. We will not memorialize the track in your honor. This is the Camp Pendleton Mud Run, not Joe and Sarah's Mud Run."

As the clock counted down, though, I started to feel butterflies in my stomach. At three minutes, I was amazed that there were only three minutes left. At two minutes, I was nervous. At one minute, I refocused and said my little saying to myself. 30 seconds, 20 seconds, 10 seconds... five, four, three, two, one...

Off.

I had a strategy for this year. Since most of the first 3-4 miles is running, I figured I'd approach the beginning as one longer run through hills. But aside from that, I'd also try to run it faster than I normally would. The last couple of miles has built-in breaks, such as the river crossing and the mud crawl, breaks in that they don't require running.

I got nailed twice by the water trucks. The first one I was able to mostly avoid but no such luck with Water Truck Nos. 2 and 3. By the time we hit the off-road portion of the race, I was dripping wet.

The first big obstacle was a stream crossing, except it was quite a bit deeper than last year. A year ago, the water was about ankle deep but on Saturday it went close to my knees. And the worst part was that the mud was smelly. That was an added bonus for no extra charge.

I plowed through, though, and was determined to make it through the hills unscathed. I was doing well, my heart rate was in the low 180s (a bit high for so early in a run) but I felt great. On the uphill parts I passed several runners and was going at a strong pace. I even passed my brother Danny! I was surprised to see him because I figured he'd taken off quickly, which he had, but he apparently witnessed the difficulty of running hills first hand. That's when I knew my runs up The Hill had helped. For next year, I think I'm going to try and The Hill several times, weekly maybe, in preparing for the Mud Run.

But that would have to wait. What laid before me were the hills. The last stretch was difficult, but once we started to go downhill I knew we were close to the obstacles. And sure enough, the first wall was upon us. I scaled it without much problems, though I felt a slight twinge on my back when I splashed into the mud. It quickly went away and I was relieved. Didn't need an injury. I splashed through some more mud and ran quickly to the river. Last year I jogged to the river but I figured I could go a little faster now before hitting the water since I'd rest in the water.

My heart rate went from the mid-180s to the mid-160s by the time I got out of the river. At the end, I slipped when getting out of the water - which was about chest high. I hit a patch of slippery, hard-packed mud and caught myself with the palms of my hands. Otherwise, I would have went face-first, a fate other runners had suffered. My shoes were like bricks when I finally emerged, sopping wet. It took less than a minute for my heart rate to get back up to the 180s, the last time my watch would give me assistance.

I came up to the second wall climb and at the same time as Danny had, and approached the wall. I slipped in a hole at the base of the wall, forcing me to regroup. I grabbed hold of the top of the wall, forced my weakened legs to shove off and elevated slightly. My arms couldn't hold, and my hands slipped off the top the wall. In that instant, my watch flung off my wrist, twisted a few times in the air and made it over the wall before I did. I went around to the other wall next to mine as that one had a wider top, willed myself over and made it to the other side. I scanned for my watch, figuring it would be floating somewhere. But it wasn't. I felt around for it as runner after runner scaled the wall and nothing. I tried to get close to the wall and nearly got stepped on. I made a few last fruitless reaches for my watch before painfully turning away and heading out toward the last leg.

I'd blown my chance to compete with Danny since we were pretty even but at that moment I did not care. I was saddened by the loss of my trusty Polar. It had been a Father's Day gift from Mrs. LB, just one year ago, and it drastically changed my approach to training and helped mold me into the runner I am today.

Still, there was a race to be run and I had to do it. Although my wrist felt nuder now than it had in a long time, I plodded forward. The tunnels were up next and I remembered why I hated them. They were slippery, hard to find a grip and very cramped. I didn't want to crawl on my knees but had no choice. My tunnel exit was less than graceful, as I imagined a large worm regurgitating some bad chorizo as I came out.

I ran a bit more, came up to Slippery Hill and tried to refocus once more. I remembered that I'd called it an Escalator of Mud a year ago, but this time the hill was a little less slippery, a little less muddy. One Marine said to go through the water (there was a stream of water knifing through the heart of Slippery Hill). I noticed steps in it, as previous runners had carved out such steps in the hill. I followed them and was happy to have gotten up unscathed. Last year, my shoe got stuck in the mud and it had popped completely off my foot.

With both shoes still firmly in place, I continued on. It was mostly running here near the end but there was the final obstacle to scale, the Mud Crawl. I went in head first and tried not to go completely underwater upon entering the challenge like I had a year ago. I was successful - only my chin and mouth were underwater. I had some sand and mud in my mouth, but it was all good. Again fearing the skin being ripped off my knee, I straightened my legs behind me and let them go limp in the water. Using the palms of my hands, I dragged my body forward. Since it was watery, it worked well. Not until the water gave way to more mud near the end did I have to crawl, but I did so just fine, jumped out of the challenge altogether and emerged poised for one last charge.

I went down a really, really steep hill and nearly lost my footing at the end. When I got down, I saw the time. I was under 1 hour 7 minutes! I went into a full-on sprint at that point, passed three other runners and crossed the finish line at 1:06:54. I lamented the loss of my watch once more and wondered if I would have been able to shave a minute off my time from last year had I managed the second wall better.

I tried not to worry about the watch but I felt bummed. It was a reminder, though, of the challenges of the Mud Run. I noticed too that I had scraped both knees and was bleeding slightly from them. There were others, though, who had full on bloody streams pouring out of their knees so I got off lightly. My shoes were muddy as they'd ever been, I feared that I'd ruined my good running socks (which I'd accidentally taken with me) and my clothes were a much darker shade than they had been in the morning.

The Polar notwithstanding, it had been an excellent day of running. I can't wait until the 2010 Camp Pendleton Mud Run.

And from now on, no watches allowed on the course for LB.

Recovery Possible

Twenty miles is no joke.

I ran 20 miles on Sunday and, guess what?, I feel like I ran 20 miles. All day Monday I spent trying to recover from the run, trying to walk normally, to ignore the soreness that enveloped my legs and such.

It was a little tricky considering I had to ref a girls varsity soccer game. I really did not feel like doing the game but I had to go out there and do my job, which I did. I felt way more tired after the match than I do normally but that's understandable. I did have to make some long runs and some fast runs but otherwise the game passed by without too much incident.

My feet too felt uncomfortable. It was as if the shock and trauma my feet suffered hung around for much of Monday.

However, this morning I woke up and felt better. More normal. I didn't run, and won't run until Wednesday, but I could call my legs into action and not feel too bad if I had to.

I don't usually feel sore after runs, not even 12 miles or more. If I did, I would be in trouble. After all, that's what all these long-distance runs have been for, to help my body get used to the pounding a marathon will provide. I'm supposed to be well past the point that a 15-mile run will knock me out of commission for a day or two.

Now, this 20-miler was different. I'll only run 20 miles twice before the marathon. My next one will be a 22-mile run, on Jan. 17. And for that one, I'll try and not stress about it until at least Jan. 4.

Really, though, Sunday's run and the Jan. 17 run will be the only two runs that will render me useless for a day or two afterward, until of course Surf City knocks me out for some time. Along with the Cedar River Run, it's these runs that are the toughest parts of the training, but also the only ones that can really adequately prepare you for a marathon.

I don't know what it will be like when I'm at Mile 24 or 25 (!) of Surf City. There's no way I can know until I'm there, plodding along close to the pier at Huntington Beach on Feb. 7, probably wishing I'd be done with the stinking marathon, likely praying for an end to the race. I can't know that until I'm there.

But I know what it's like to run when it feels as if every muscle in my body is telling me not to. I know what it's like to break the 20-mile barrier. And those are two things I will undoubtedly come across in Surf City. I'll probably reach the former sometime after crossing the latter.

And knowing what it feels like to have come across those obstacles before is just some of what will help me get to the finish line at Surf City.

Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen: No. 10

Number 10 in the Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen is my Karaoke adventure.

For my 34th birthday... sigh, I'm 34 going on old... anyway, for my 34th birthday I wanted to have a karaoke celebration. I wanted to invite some friends and family and assign a song to each of them. Yeah, that idea lasted about two seconds when I realized that nobody would show up.

But I still had that karaoke bug. So, to expel that, I decided that I still wanted to sing karaoke (which, by the way, is way out of character for me). And I figured that I would let my blog readers suggest songs and then vote for which song they wanted me to sing. I would then record that song and post it here on the blog.

There were some good entries (Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N Roses, You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC) and some really, really gawdawful ones (Bootylicious by Destiny's Child, Whitney Houston's I Wanna Dance With Somebody).

I lucked out and sang this one.

*****
Originally posted Aug. 12

Karaoke Vid

Greetings from Mexico City! I haven't been able to do much except A) work and B) suffer. The altitude hit me hard and contributed to an upset stomach on Tuesday morning. On Monday night I went out with a group of friends and had about three beers and ate a lot of beef and chicken and tortillas, and Tuesday I suffered. I think it was a combination of everything - the altitude, being tired, this crappy rock-hard bed, lack of eating/hydrating - and I didn't start to come out of it until Tuesday night.

I'm fine this morning, though. Looking forward to the big game!

Anyway, before I head out, I wanted to post this video. As promised, by Wednesday, Metallica's Enter Sandman, LB style (which is to say terrible). This video from my camera is dark and not the best. My brother shot video from his video camera so hopefully that one turns out better.

In the meantime, here goes:

Motivational Mondays (Dec. 21)

As I did after my 18-mile run, this will serve as my 20-mile run recap and the motivational Monday post, since I have set a new bar for myself, and that's quite motivating.

To say I was nervous before Sunday's run would have been saying that I was running a long way. I felt knots in my stomach all week, and Saturday took it to a whole new level. I was distracted all day as all I kept thinking about was the run, the distance, the potential setbacks...

I barely slept on Saturday night, as is usually the case before big runs or races. I got the coffee ready for Mrs. LB, gathered all of my stuff and left my house at 6 a.m. By 6:30, I was listening to the site director talking about our run. I tried to fool myself into thinking it was only going to be a 12- or 15-mile run.

You wish.

But of course that made no difference, and when we lined up to start, I knew I was in for a long, long run.

My blog buddy Angie of Angie Eats Peace was along for the run as well as about 15 others. For the first six, seven miles, there wasn't much difference to our run. We meandered through the same, sleepy streets we usually do in Loma Linda, stopped at the usual water stops, and took the same walk breaks at the same spots we usually do.

At about Mile 8, however, we took a detour off the beaten path. We ran on a trail, and it was the first time I'd run on this particular trail. I'm not much of a trail runner simply because I don't seek them out, but this wasn't too bad. But as we turned off, one of the veteran Lopers referred to it as the Meth Lab Trail, and that women shouldn't run this trail alone.

Hey, this is like the Mud Run!

The trail carved a path through an otherwise nondescript hill, covered in drab brown brush. There were some obstacles on the trail - tumbleweed, patches of mud, rocks - but it wasn't anything we couldn't handle.

Up ahead, I saw why it was called the Meth Lab Trail. There was some sort of dwelling surrounded by a graveyard of RVs. Immediately around this strange collection of buildings and worn-out vehicles was nothing but the same drab brown brush that had reminded me of the Camp Pendleton Mud Run.

Because this trail is in relative isolation and far off the main road, which itself isn't that highly-traveled, it's not necessarily the greatest spot to go running alone, particularly with this strange Meth Lab-looking patch.

We came to the end of the trail but hopped a gate and swung around the other side to run on a wider trail parallel to the Meth Lab, except this looked like a dirt road.

I glanced at The Garmin.

Only 10 more miles to go.

While it didn't feel like those miles necessarily flew by, they were in the books. But since this wasn't an out-and-back run, we had to run a little longer in order to get back to our original path. Once out on the street, the rest of the run was like normal. I'd run down this far multiple times, so the unfamiliarity element of my 20-mile run wasn't there in terms of my route. Unlike my previous Longest Run Ever - whose status as such was quickly diminishing - I knew this course well. I knew what to expect as far as the path.

Alright, we've done a half!

I really need to learn how to maximize The Garmin because I don't keep track of my splits but we'd finished off 13.1 miles in about 2 hours 22 minutes. But there was no hoopla for this 13.1 miles, only the thought that there was about 6.9 miles remaining.

We came upon some bathrooms at a small park we trotted past and I made a dash for them. I'd been feeling the need to go for some time but was able to suppress the urge, but figured it'd be better to go and run the rest of the time without that pesky feeling, so I did.

Wow. This is the first time I've gone in an actual bathroom during a run.

Feeling about a pound lighter, I ran up to the rest of the group. When I'd caught up to them, I felt a bit spent. We weren't quite yet at 15 miles, and by the time we got up an incline and out on a busy street, I started to feel something. It grew into something more about a mile later.

Doubt.

It crept along slowly, and by about 14.5 miles it was in full effect.

I've only ran more than 15 miles once.

By now, 15 miles does not seem like a distance I can't scale. I've run at least 15 miles three times maybe, and this would be the fourth. But more than 15, well, there's just one time I've done that.

I remembered how I felt at the end of that 18-miler, the Cedar River Run. I was spent at the end of that one, and the last two miles were particularly tough. Would I have enough gas left in me to make it to 18 and then run two miles past that?

We stopped for a moment after about 16.5 miles and then about a mile later, and after both times it was tough to get re-started. My legs were increasingly growing heavier. But the rest of me felt great.

At this point, I felt a bit saddened. For nearly one month, the Cedar River Run had held the top spot in my Longest Run Ever list. But now, that run was about to be surpassed and I had and have such fond memories of the Seattle 18-miler that I was a bit saddened to kiss it farewell.

But that moment, just like the 18-mile mark, came and went.

"Is this a new high for you?" Angie asked.

The Garmin read 18.01, and I smiled.

"Congratulations!"

It felt good to have set a new bar for myself, but this bar wasn't exactly done yet. We had to traverse another two miles and my feet were lead weights at this point. Hopping on and off curbs was a task in and of itself, but before I knew it we were close. Very close. I was at 19.38 when I let myself think about the finish; 19.5 and I figured a half-mile would be nothing; 19.75 and all I had to do was one lap around the track; 19.91... well, I realized at this point that I had been looking at The Garmin too often, but it didn't really matter. I felt strong and forced myself to get to the finish before looking at the mileage once again.

About five members of our group had finished when I got to them. I stopped running, finally, and The Garmin read 20.03.

I can't believe I made it.

Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen: No. 11

Okay, back to the Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen.

I introduced my daughter, sous chef and aspiring chef Yvie to my readers with this post.

On a quick aside, I didn't have a whole lot of time this weekend to do much of anything. I have the episode all shot but have to edit it together and do all that good stuff. So when I get to that episode together, I'll have it ready for you to watch.

Until then, here's number 11 on the countdown.

*****
Originally Published May 3

Savory Sundays: the TV show!

Okay, maybe it's not quite Food Network-ish but we took a different spin on the Savory Sundays feature this week.

I've been having problems trying new recipes lately; actually have been stuck in a bit of a cooking rut, making the same dishes over and over again. Not that there's anything wrong with that - the Chorizo Tortas I made on Thursday were fantastic - but I can't exactly show you how to make the same thing twice now can I?

So I had an idea. I figured I'd put my budding Giadas in front of the camera and have them explain how to make Marinara Sauce. Actually, Yvie was pretty much the only one interested in showing off her hosting skills as Kenna went in and out of frame, so I named this show Cooking With Yvie.

Enjoy.

Run Is Done

My 20-mile run is in the books!

We finished in 3 hours 44 minutes, which is right around where we wanted to finish.

I still have to process the run and see how I feel, but overall I'd say it went great. I will have a full run recap probably tomorrow so look out for that. But I will tell you now that I was extremely worried and nervous about the run all day Saturday but I focused and prepared this morning like I usually do and knowing I had the encouragement and support from my family, the Lopers and all my blog buddies helped and made a difference. I had the pleasure and honor of running with my blog buddy Angie of Angie Eats Peace for the run and that helped a lot.

I'll also tell you that at Mile 15 or so I started to doubt myself. Five miles at that point seemed a long ways away.

Still, it is all part of this learning process that is my marathon training. And now I have crossed into an important part of it, into the land of high mileage.

And even though I am worn out and exhausted, I'm going to have an extra bounce in my step because of that.

Muddy Runner Countdown: No. 12

Greetings and welcome to the Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen, the official countdown of my 12 best posts of 2009.

(I'm not actually here right now but rather getting ready to go out on my run or out running; I hope to be done by 11 a.m. my time, maybe earlier).

First up, No. 12.

I did quite a bit of soul-searching on my blog this year. One of the things that I shared with my readers was alcohol and how I've pretty much stopped drinking.

As I explain in this post, I was never a heavy, every-day drinker but used to enjoy and look forward to drinking beer. But now, I don't. Case in point: my last beer was on Aug. 10 in Mexico City. I'm actually going to try and extend that into 2010... we'll see how New Year's Eve holds out.

But if this post has any effect, it'll be a dry New Year's, which ain't such a bad thing for me.

*****
Originally published on Sept. 22

Last Call For Alcohol?

I used to drink beer. A lot. Well, maybe not often but when I drank, I drank.

I was responsible, though, and tried my hardest not to put anyone in a position of danger or anything like that. I've never had a DUI, God forbid, or anything like that.

Still, I enjoyed knocking back a beer or eight when the time was right. I drank a lot in high school. Yeah, I was pretty irresponsible back in the day. When I lived in Mexico at 17/18, I drank a beer with dinner quite often and didn't really think nothing of it.

Now, it wasn't like I used to keep an 18-pack in the fridge at all times, but when I had beer around, I drank it. And I could drink. I could hold my liquor quite a bit. One Super Bowl, I think in 01 or 02, I drank about 13 beers and wasn't passed out or anything.

Don't get me wrong, I've passed out before. Last time was in October 2007. It was never fun but it wasn't something that prevented me from drinking.

How much did I enjoy beer? Check out this slideshow I made out of some pictures I took in August 2006, during a family trip to Mexico. One of my goals before the trip was to take a picture with as many different types of beers as possible.



If you watched it and didn't understand it, the song is basically saying "I was born a drunk and I'm going to die a drunk and what fault do I have that I was born this way."

Anyway, you'll notice that I've been speaking in past tense here.

I think I'm coming to some sort of crossroads. Or maybe I'm making too big of a deal over something minor. Not sure yet.

What I am sure is that beer affects me quite a bit more than it used to.

Eight beers before and I'd feel it. Eight beers now and I'll black out.

Eight beers before and I'd probably have a little headache in the morning but I'd be fine during the day. Eight beers now and forget about functioning at or near 100 percent the next day.

Actually, I can drink three beers and not feel good. I can drink one beer and feel it the next day. That was unheard of for me a few years ago.

But throughout this weight-loss journey, I've had some changes. Things affect me more now at 185 pounds than they ever did at 300-plus pounds. Alcohol is one. Medicine too. I used to have to take a double dose of a cold medicine or whatever just to have it work. One aspirin before was akin to taking a skittle to try and combat a headache.

Now though, I can take the suggested dosage of medicine and feel it working.

And I can drink one beer and feel it working through my body.

And I hate that.

I hate alcohol-induced headaches. They are really annoying because they render me useless. I can do things around the house I suppose but forget about working out. Forget about something that requires a lot of walking, like a trip to Disneyland.

That's totally taken the fun out of drinking. Having a few beers, maybe not eight but say two or three, used to appeal to me. But now, when I'm around beer the only thing I can think of is how I'll be hurting the next day.

The last time I drank was in Mexico City, and the next day I paid for it. I was sick and had a raging headache. Now, part of that was because of the altitude and travel and such, but the alcohol played a role in that as well.

I think the previous time I drank before that was in Montreal in June. I had a couple of beers in Costa Rica as well.

It's just not fun anymore. But does that mean I'm going to give it up altogether? Am I going to make it official and not drink ever?

Probably not. But I've had the chance to drink a few times since Mexico City and have passed them up, and really I haven't felt bad about it. It's not like when I go out to eat with people and they all get burgers or some other greasy food and I get a salad. The most difficult thing is the peer pressure and the "Aw come on, you can drink one" replies I get. But usually I tell them that I'm going to run in the morning and don't want to drink because of that, and that works. And if that's not good enough for others, screw 'em.

I never really thought I'd be to the point where I could not drink alcohol anymore and be fine with it. I don't dislike it, don't look down on it or those who drink responsibly, but it's just not important to me anymore.

And if you're wondering about hard liquor...

I drank almost a whole bottle of tequila by myself on New Year's in 2007 (Dec. 31, '06) and since then the smell of tequila pretty much disgusts me :)

I've never been into wine or champagne.

A bad experience with Schnapps at age 16 completely turned me off to most other hard liquors.

I've been pretty much a beer-drinker my whole late teen/adult life.

Until now.

The Game Plan

It's a day away now from my 20-mile run, and my stomach has been in knots all week thinking about it. I'm very encouraged by all of the kinds words and encouragement I've received from you all here on my blog, and I know that if I approach it with the right mindset I should be able to meet my goal. But that doesn't mean I'm not still worried.

I guess it's just the fear of the unknown. After every distance that was an unknown to me, I've worried. When I ran five miles for the first time, I worried. Before my first eight-mile run, I worried. Before all of these monster runs I've done just in the fall alone, I worried. So it's natural then to worry.

The distance is enormously intimidating and it can easily psyche me out, so I'm going to try and follow my advice to myself from earlier this week and break it down into smaller runs.

Today, I'm going to do what I can to adequately prepare my body for running 20 miles. I'm going to make pasta for dinner, and another high-carb meal for lunch. I'm going to snack on carbs too.

Let's see... it would be nice to follow this today but we'll see what sort of curve balls life throws at me

Breakfast: Bagel
AM snack: Banana
Lunch: Sub, with Italian sausage, peppers, and onion; side of sweet potatoes
PM snack: Popcorn
Dinner: Pasta (I'm thinking Bacon and Tomato Pasta)

I really hope I can stick to that today. I have lots to do today, mostly Christmas shopping, but I like to spend time in the kitchen so I'll have to carve out some time to do that and relax in there. Hopefully I will be able to relax.

On Sunday, we'll probably be leaving on our run at around 6:30, and if all goes well I'll be done shortly after 10.

I hope my feet are up for the pounding.
I hope my nipples hold up.
I hope my hamstring is fully recovered.
I hope The Garmin makes it.
I hope the weather cooperates.
I hope my stomach settles down before Sunday morning.
I hope I can sleep tonight.
I hope I make it in one piece.

Friday Leftovers (Dec. 18)

My weekly hodgepodge post of leftover thoughts and thwarted blog posts.

Word Association

Ah yes, the Leftovers are kicked off once more by Word Association. Play here. Let's see how this goes:

1. Up :: Down
2. Scram! :: Beat it!
3. Smell :: Yucky
4. Belong :: Part (of)
5. Doug :: Cartoon
6. Collar :: Shirt
7. Squirrel :: Kenna
8. Chinese :: English
9. Tracker :: Stats
10. Apartment :: Rent

If you don't know about number 7, well now you know Kennedy's nickname.

C to the W to the Y

Sunday is going to be a busy day for me and for this blog. Sunday kicks off the Muddy Runner Dirty Dozen, the countdown of this blog's 12 best posts of the year. Also, Sunday I'm running my longest run ever (again) and I will update you with that.

But also we shot an episode of Cooking With Yvie earlier this week. I'm excited about it because we were able to squeeze it into our busy schedule. So come back often on Sunday to check out this trusty blog.

Also, with the 20-miler, on Sunday I have a busy schedule on the personal front as after the run I'm going to have to attend two Christmas get-togethers. So while I will update you on my run as soon as I can (probably from my cell phone), the details and all that will have to wait. But I will write a run recap of it since it'll be a special run and one that's eaten away at my stomach all week.

Christmas Cards

I sent out a batch of cards this week to some of my awesome readers. If you want a card and a picture or two from yours truly, let me know and I'll get one out to you stat. Just e-mail me: buenodad (at) gmail (dot) com.

Not In Season

I've been a bad Disneyland Annual Passholder. Actually, technically, I am not a Disneyland Annual Passholder anymore. Saaaaaaad!!! Our passes have expired.

However, all is not lost my friends. Yvie and Kennedy are APs as their grandma (my MIL) renewed their passes for Christmas. So now Mrs. LB and I simply need to do the same, at a costly sum.

Still, even though we will renew, we did not get to participate in the Christmas season at Disneyland this year. It's actually a bit depressing because it's so much fun at Disneyland at this time of year.

Next week, I am going to bring you some of that Disney cheer right here on my blog. We got to take in the awesome Christmas parade last year and I took plenty of pictures, so keep an eye out for that post coming next week. For now, I wanted to whet your appetites a bit with a couple of pictures from the parade, and our trip to Disneyland last December.

***

The Disneyland Christmas tree is huge. It touches the sky and dwarfs the girls and everyone else who stands next to it.

****
This is one of the floats in the parade, Santa's Toy Factory. The toys start up front with Geppetto manning the float. Geppetto is the "Building Department."

***
Then, the toys go to the "Painting Department" and the "Wrapping Department" stationed by Jiminy Cricket and Pinocchio, respetively.

***
And then, out the back come the toys, all assembled, painted and ready to go under some lucky child's tree.

***

After the parade, we were lucky enough to go to Pixie Hollow. We took in the parade right across the entrance of Pixie Hollow, and there was no line there when the parade ended so we quickly made our way to the entrance and didn't have to wait in line very long (usually it's a 40-minute wait, minimum). The girls got to take their picture with Tinkerbell.


LB's Song of the Week

This is a pretty cool band. The Jimmies sing about a lot of different stuff, and while the girls love their song Peanut Butter Polka this one isn't bad either.

Upping The Ante

Have I mentioned to you that I'm running 20 miles on Sunday?

I think I have. I'm not worrying about it or anything...

Well, not yet. Not too much anyway.

Okay, I am a little I suppose.

But I do know a good way to help take my mind off of it. I need only to think about my 26.2-mile-run on Feb. 7.

Surf City sees the 20 and raises me six point two.

How is that day going to play out? Well, that part is to be determined, although I do think about it each and every run these days. On Wednesday I ran five miles on the 'mill (and it was in the mid-70s out here... just couldn't leave Kennedy anywhere to go running though) and during that run I thought about Surf City often.

I've started doing some early scouting. So far, this is what I've found.


The dreaded course map for Surf City. It's going to be fun, I'm sure. The red spots on there are the mile markers... there sure are a lot of them. And in case you are wondering... W = water; E = Vitalyte (drink); CL = Clif/Lara bars; S = Sharkies sport chews; P = portable restrooms aka Honey Buckets.

I've been actually thinking of just going down to Huntington Beach sometime before the marathon, like in the next 2-3 weeks, to check out the scene of the race so I can visualize the day and maybe try and mentally prepare some how for it.

Anyway, just looking and thinking about this makes Sunday's 20-miler seem less daunting. So I'll stop worrying about it.

Training Times

I have a bit of a secret desire. Every time I go to the gym, I'm reminded of it. I long for it. I crave it.

I want my personal trainer.

Okay, well, I don't really want him in the sense that.. well, you know... because he's a guy and that would be wierd for me... but rather I want his services.

I see my personal trainer at the gym a lot. We say hi and sometimes, if we walk past each other, we stop and chat. But he's a busy man, and I usually just get my workout in and then leave. I'm not a social gym person like others there.

Anyway, lately I've been thinking about signing up with him, to take more lessons with him.

That was not exactly how things were back in 2006 when I first started seeing him. I signed up for 20 lessons back in mid-March of '06 when I was a chunkmaster, when the B in LB stood for Blob. We probably had about two lessons a week, each hour-long sessions, and I cannot tell you how much I used to dread them. He had me do exercises - exercises for cryin' out loud! Talk about WTF...

I never used to exercise. I'm not exaggerating when I say that between 2000 and 2006 I probably exercised less than 10 times. I might have tried to play soccer once or twice in that span, may have played something else a few times, but mostly I just sat on my ass and got fat.

So imagine to my surprise when I was doing lunges, sprints, jumping rope, doing some absurd thing called "circuit training" when you go from machine to machine and workout and repeat the process a few times. I mean, what is that? And then, to top it off, I was supposed to go do two 20-minute cardio sessions by myself each week. The nerve! And that's not even counting the rigid meal plan he had me follow...

Ah yes, the memories. It was actually addicting, once I started to lose the weight, to go and work out. I got used to and embraced circuit training, lunges, sprints, jumping rope... okay, maybe not the jumping rope part because, wow, that was a workout and a half in and of itself.

But we did so many things, and I do nothing now except run. I feel bad that I did not maintain some of those workouts. There are times when I see someone doing some specialized workout and I think 'Hey, I used to do that' and I sort of long for it.

So why not just develop my own plan and go from there? Well, part of this longing is the desire to push myself. I know, running a marathon is about as far as you can push yourself, but I'd like to have something to go along with my running. I'd like to see a professional implement a workout plan for me and see how I can stand up to it, and see what the benefits are. I'd like to do more lunges and toughen up my butt muscles, do some of the things I used to do to help hit muscles in my arms and legs and abdomen and back. I don't want to get all muscled out - and honestly I don't think I could even if I really, really tried - but I would like a little more definition. Maybe. I guess, I wouldn't mind it, although that's not my main motivation behind this desire.

I just want to push myself and I want to see how I respond. And I know if I design my own system and make myself accountable to myself, I may not go through with it. Now, if it's running, yeah, I'll go through with it. But since I have a passion for running but not resistance training, then it takes more of an effort on that end.

I do want to try it out, though, and maybe my trainer will give me a discount... or not. But I do know that he would give me a wealth of knowledge and information.

However much I want to go for it, I don't want to jump into it until after the marathon. I don't want to start something new before Surf City and then try and run with sore muscles. You ever try running with sore muscles? Every step is painful.

So maybe in the springtime I might go for it. I figure, 10 sessions, one a week, and I'd really make some great progress.

Until then, it'll be just one more thing to think about when I run.