Tag Archives: half marathon training

The body doesn’t forget

23 Apr


Yesterday was my first half marathon since running NY in November. I’ve been down and out, unsure of myself.  I’ve tried to redirect myself, make a new plan. I’ve thought about quitting running all together. I was seriously going to cancel my trip.  I didn’t feel worthy of coming up to NJ to run. The whole week was doubt. I couldn’t picture each mile.  I felt like I couldn’t plan one thing. I was tired. I couldn’t sleep. 13.1 seemed impossible. And on top of that my legs and feet were cramping. And you know everyone says “But Donna, you’ve run a marathon, 13.1 is cake!”  Not when you’ve changed your routine. Not when you are full of self doubt. Not when you’ve been injured and you feel mind fucked by that injury.

So the I packed with no order. Prayed I remembered everything and did my best not to think about it. I was a wreck the day before I left. To say I lost my sassy was an understatement. Thankfully the flight then next day grounded me a bit. The trip to the hotel…a little more peace. A walk on the boardwalk…even more.  But still…I can’t picture the miles and I can ALWAYS picture them. I’m not ready… damn it. I’m not ready.

The morning was Florida cold, and rainy. And I panicked because I didn’t have my lined shirt. I didn’t bring a throwaway and I left my warm hat at the hotel.  The rain drops started big and I couldn’t get a mental of picture the finish line. There was just no good feeling about it. But I made a decision to fake it. To make myself believe it was possible. I was going to “kick today right in the dick…”  I just decided to get engrossed in the energy, feed off of everyone’s vibe.

And ready, set, go…  It was a step by step effort. But then the rain down even more and that’s when everything connected. I love the rain. I love running in the rain. Each drop more cleansing than the last, each step more clear…  I actually forgot I was running at mile 3. And I was chatting wth a 60 year old lady who was doing a half marathon in 50’states by the time she hits 70. Wanna talk inspirational??? She’s still intending to be running half marathons at 70.  I could surely run this 13.1 right?

But then at mile 9. I felt my toes tighten and everything sucked from that moment on. But I was pushing. I needed this race and I needed my win. So every time a muscle tightened…I’d cuss like a sailor, take a deep breath and keep going.  This is what the texts look like… (thank goodness I can talk into my watch like a secret agent and it spits out words…also, thank goodness I can say Fuck…and it will actually spell it out!)


And just like that there was only 5k left. It was a 5k full of tears and cussing. It was 3.1 miles of knowing I could do it, and then the finish line came in to view. I picked up my pace, and was almost there when everything locked up. Excruciating pain, nothing but sobs… and cheering. There was cheering from people I didn’t know. There were people pushing me to get there. There’s the magic…right there. It wasn’t in my 13.1 mile journey. It was the spirit when I had none left, when my own will couldn’t move my limbs. The people around me   Just made it ok. They picked me up, they showed me I had it left…shockingly I got past that line. Still sobbing, still locked up, but still moving.  And then I knew, running is not something I can quit. It’s part of me now. I suck at it, but it’s part of me. I’m getting better every day, but nothing beats the spirit in the race. Nothing. Because my body remembers, even when my mind doesn’t. It’s right there in my ticker.

So, those of you who doubt yourself, keep moving. Feed off the spirit of the positive people around you. There’s no giving up… because your heart remembers. It knows… you just need to give yourself a chance to see it. Take a deep breath, I promise…you’re body will remember. And if you doubt me, hit me up. Because I gotchooooooooo!

❤️ #noregrets

DP Babbles


8 Weeks to a better ass…or something like that

8 Mar


So, every January  for the past three years, I have embarked on an 8 week fitness challenge with my bootcamp.  Every year I had learned something different.  The first year I learned (after placing second) that I actually could work some magic when I put it all together.  I was very into running and my body wasn’t saying screw you to running just yet so my results were pretty amazing.  Year two, I learned I was really good at wasting my money.  Because I was a lazy shit who ran  but didn’t do much else.  This year though, I learned a little more.  I figured I’d share.

The goal was to eat 80 percent clean, work out 5x per week and make weekly goals, We of course needed to log our food and our instructor looked at what we were doing.   Our weekly goals didn’t need to be weight loss oriented. As a matter of fact she encouraged other goals.  A few weeks into it I lost my running coach so I was faced with having to change it up.   This is what I learned…

  1.  I learned I’m one unorganized shit! I mean my weekly goals consisted of cleaning out my closet, pantry, bathroom etc.  My husband still can’t find where I put my panties when he folds the laundry but they are organized!!! “Where’d you put your underwear? You organize things and I’m so lost. ”  “In the little drawers in my closet!” UGH! So, I learned that the more organized I am, the more successful I am.  I also learned that I have a “Bra-blem” At least that’s what my kids call one drawer devoted to bras.  I digress.  I’m a little more organized than when I started and it has made a big difference.
  2. I learned that although I want to be a better runner, I really want to be more fit first.  My personal observation and those close around me is that my body is used to running, and running slower than a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter.  That’s what my body knows. In that I also learned that maybe in order to be more successful at one thing, I have to get better at others. So  I’m working on building muscles. Lifting weights, resistance bands, squatting like its nobody’s business.  I guess if we all want to monitor my progress, just keep an eye on my “ass”ets.  I miss my running coach, but Im still going to make her proud.  I just have to make me proud first.  I haven’t felt proud in a while.  But holy shit, the next few weeks are shaping up in my favor.  I also learned that I can work around my injury and that I’ve been babying it a little.  That could be total bullshit of course.  Maybe my foot is just healing.
  3. This is the biggest thing I learned.  I learned that emotional eating gets me no where except disappointed.   Before this eight weeks, if anything bothered me, I could totally eat my way through a bag of Doritos and a Snickers bar.  This eight weeks, I was placed in stressful situations and holy sweet baby Jesus,  I didn’t turn to food.  Shit, I didn’t even think about it.  I actually used working out as an outlet.  I kicked ass at kickboxing or dropped and did push ups.  I know this all sounds like bulls*t, but its true.  I thought it was weird too.  I’ve lived my whole life as an emotional eater.  I used to sit through Weight Watcher meetings where the Lecturer actually had conversation with her food.  I don’t really want to spend time being emotionally attached to chicken nuggets or ice cream.  I don’t want to talk to them either.  I’d rather make a healthier choice and sit here and talk to people that matter to me, not my food.
  4. I learned I’m never going to be an itty bitty teeny weeny in that little polka dot bikini.  I learned that it’s ok.  I learned that the real people in life actually think I’m a hip and happening chick no matter what.  I’ve learned what a real definition of sexy is to me.  Sexy is being beautiful with all of your imperfections.  Sexy is putting real effort into being strong.  Sexy is loving yourself and being confident.  Guys and Girls, I tell you.  Not loving yourself and not being confident is actually not very attractive.  So own your thighs,  your big or small boobs. Own all of it.  Yep, you’re allowed to have moments, but don’t dwell on them.  Just keep groovin’! Changes happen when we believe and think positively.
  5.   I learned that I was starving myself.  I got sick halfway through and could barely eat, but when life resumed, I still couldn’t get all my calories in.  The numbers on the scale didn’t budge and they haven’t since. Working out 4-5 days a week with some of them being double workout days is tiring…especially if you aren’t eating.  It’s mind boggling thinking you can’t actually starve your way to weight loss. You really do have to eat.  I severely underestimated the calories I was supposed to be eating and the scale suffered.  But I’ve got the idea now.  I want to know how eating 1900 calories a day is going to help a sista out. But I’m going to trust the process.  I actually believe it’s true, but I’ve been sabotaging myself for months now.  So, now I sit and wait. Really I’m not sitting, that hurts too much right now.  I know I’m done starving myself.  Amazing how easy it is to put away 2000 calories of wine but yet I’m over here dying cause I’m stuffed full of grilled chicken and brussel sprouts.

These things I learned are not a one size fits all lesson.  Things are different for everyone unless they are the facts.

The facts are that you can’t eat shit tons of crap food and be healthy.  There are people who can eat shit tons of food and still maintain their figure but that doesn’t mean they are healthy.  The fact is that muscle burns fat, and I don’t have enough.  The fact is broccoli is always healthier than french fries and cheesecake…but we all know what tastes better!

The fact is that being fit and healthy is never going to be an easy endeavor for me.  And it may not be for some of you either, but I promise  that if we keep working and we don’t give up, good things are going to happen.  Change it up.  Do something that scares you, but that   makes you realize how badass you are.  I mean, for reals…as I was heaving over the Orange Theory potty this morning after 6 out of 10 all outs.  I was scared…but I was feeling pretty damn bad ass when I went back in for more.  There’s no giving up bitches, just puke and keep moving.  (At least that’s what I’m telling myself!)

Until next time…

DP Babbles (and squats like a badass too!)


Preconceived thoughts of my first 26.2

28 Apr

imageThis week marks end of a thirteen day rest period that will start a journey to the biggest thing I’ve ever done besides having kids. Walking around and growing a living thing has got to be the biggest thing most chicks have done, but for this chick, running 26.2 miles around New York City is going to be my next biggest feat.  Here are my thoughts and preconceived notions about running a full marathon.

  1. What the hell did I get myself into?  I don’t want to drive for 26.2 miles on a normal day let alone run or walk it.  Did I put enough thought into it? Does running seven half marathons slowly qualify me to even run 26.2 miles in what I believe to be the coolest race ever?
  2. Seriously, what if I have to pee or what if 26.2 miles is the mileage that finally makes me shit myself. I’ve been so careful so far. But one slick move and holy shitballs!  That is probably one of the biggest fears of a runner. I mean, it’s even in the rules. You’re not allowed to shit on the streets of New York, you have to use the Port of Johns. (OK clearly the the rule book is a little more professional than this but…do accidents count?)  I know some runners squat wherever…I’m not that chick. I wear compression shit that I can’t just pull on and off.  I don’t want to punish anyone with the site of my bare sweaty ass.
  3. I’m a slow runner. How many energy gels will it take me to get to the end…and where the fuck do I stuff it all. If you see a slow runner with extra unruly lumps in her pants and boobs… That’s me storing my energy.  I give you a free pass to laugh at me.  I don’t give free passes for anything very often, so take it.
  4. What if I’m so slow I get lost…or worse… What if the course closes and I don’t get my medal?  (Runners like shiny necklaces!!!)  Do I hail a cab, do I venture into the subway? Do I just go to the nearest bar and give up?  (I’ll be at the bar!!!!) I’m not going to lie. The first thing I did when I was given the invitation is look up race results for the oldest age category and find the slowest race times.  How in God’s green earth can I run for 7 hours? Kids, don’t wait up…mommy is going to miss the post race party because she’s still trying to get there!

I think I’ve run (literally) through every fear in my head.  But this is what I do know.  I know that I’m going to be trained properly, I’m going to be nervous and want to shit my pants (please,dear Lord…help a sista out!). I’m going to laugh. I most definitely am going to cry. Above all else, I’m going to finish…. Because I didn’t go this far out of comfort zone to not succeed.  My boobs may be packed with gels, I may be the big assed chick who had to run the sidewalks and miss the after party, I may shit my pants. But, I also may not.  And I’m never going to know if I don’t try. I have all these preconceived ideas of what running a marathon is like, but I’m never going to know what it’s really like for me…until I get there. But these are just a few of my thoughts. Hopefully this made you giggle a little.

So, for now, I’m going to train with all of my heart and pray with every bit of my soul that I’m strong enough .  I’m going to think positive and last of all…avoid fiber like the plague.  I just can’t wait to prove myself wrong!

Peace…out until next time…

DP Babbles

Follow up: Dear Sweet Baby Jesus of Running (warning: expect some laughing and some tears)

17 Nov
"That's 5! Enough for a hand job!!"

“That’s 5! Enough for a hand job!!”

See that little blonde holding the sign...she's one of the reasons why I run. ❤️

See that little blonde holding the sign…she’s one of the reasons why I run. ❤️

Whoever said “If you dream it, you can do it” probably meant you actually have to fall asleep and dream it. Saturday night went like any pre-race prep for me with the exception of sleep (like not one bit of it). The wheels turned. My heart raced. The nerves wouldn’t settle. And then the alarm went off. So off I went.

Prepped and ready to go and totally feeling like donkey shit(I assume donkey shit doesn’t feel great…I don’t know this for a fact), I laced up and headed to the starting line. These are my thoughts and experiences:

Mile one was a warm up, and the run through the tunnel with the crowd felt amazing. I can feel the energy. But why the hell is my mouth so dry.

Mile two: It’s a little breezy. Why does my whole entire body feel like its got the prickles. I think I may puke. Look…there’s  the three hour pacer. I’ll stick with her.

Mile 3: I’m totally going to hurl. I’m dizzy. WTF? Why am I dizzy at mile 3. Am I dying. God!!!! Am I going to die at mile 3 behind pace. What a douche…who the hell dies at mile 3?  Pull your shit together! (I laugh at this now) I may not finish. How the hell will I pull off the New York City Marathon if I can’t get past mile 3…or if I die first.

Halfway between three and four…I had an enlightening moment because I saw her. My little girl. My amazing friends and my daughter were standing on the street jumping up and down and cheering. . She was holding a sign and looking proud. She is the reason I started running. The reason why I got healthy.  I need her to know she can do anything if she tries.  I can only show her because words are just words.  How the hell do I give up on that? I don’t…I just keep going.

So I stood a little straighter, gave them all kisses and off I go. That’s when things got a little more amusing to me.

Miles 4 and 5: Am I running in an effing Hurricane?  I am not aerodynamically shaped enough for this shit. This wind isn’t lifting me and my ass certainly isn’t flying. My hat is getting ready to go.  God, why can’t I just be a Kenyan today.

10K split:1:32:19. Dammit!!!!! I am way off where I need to be. Way off than my best. Fuck this wind already. I have screwed my goal. ( I really did drop the F bomb and I’m not sugar coating it.)

Then just over the bridge, I see the wheelchair competitors and I feel like such a dip shit and whiner. They endure struggles every day far worse than my measly 13.1 mile struggle and here I am feeling sorry for myself. So I put my big girl panties on and muddle through. (And no I didn’t physically put them on because like a good portion of runners, panties don’t work for me.)

Then goes the tough run down the beach. The wind was even more brutal but I like all of the others fought for the finish. At the ten mile mark an amazing man went in for the high five and my calf totally seized up. I have never experienced anything like that pain while racing. So I hobbled, stretched, walked a bit and knew I could run slower but that I couldn’t speed up or I was done. The medal is a bottle opener. I can’t fail and not get a bottle opener for crying out loud!

A mile before the finish line I get the magic text. Siri reads it to me and I cry like a baby. “Don’t be discouraged. You can still finish and we are all here at the finish line for you.” and then another “Lady, you got this-we believe in you.” Tears pouring, salt and sand on my face, that was what I needed to get me the next half mile.

A half mile before the finish I see an angel, well sort of ! My running coach’s amazing friend is there waiting to run me in.  He talks me through the last half mile pointing out every positive.  Our scenery, how brutal the wind was for  everyone, how amazing I was doing…that the finish line was coming. I was almost there.

And just like that I got through the finish line.  And yes as embarrassing as it is I did dry heave.   My family and friends were there. My bottle opener medal was waiting for me. And in that instant, I realized that my goal was the journey.  That for my next half marathon, I don’t want to think about my pace…I want to enjoy the race.  I want to enjoy the people, the signs, the cowbell, the scenery, the hurricane force winds. The more I concentrate on the time, the less I enjoy it.  And why the hell would I ever run 13.1 if I didn’t get to enjoy parts of it. By the way, I still want to be a Kenyan for the day…but only if I can look good in those runner speedos.

I would truly like to thank everyone who encouraged me. Siri read your texts to me unless you said the “F” word…she refused to read those. I got them all and they mattered. Special thanks to my cheering squad and family, my coach, and that “Crazy Ever After” blogger (http://crazyeverafter.com) who talked me though a rough spot on Las Olas.  My favorite after half marathon quote from her “Congratulations! That’s 5!! Enough for a hand job!!!” (Now you know why we’re friends, right?)  She is my first and forever half marathon partner in crime. Check out her blog. She rocks.


Quotes of the weekend:

“Not all races are PR performances, but they are all learning experiences and will ultimately make you a better runner.” LD

“Always have goals, both big and small, without them you are a rudderless ship in life, not just running.” LD

Peace out for now…