Was that weird?

Sorry.

Anyway, due to a combination of utter laziness, lack of inspiration, and more utter laziness, you’ve basically heard nothing but radio silence from me for the past 2+ months.

Again…sorry. Blame it on winter depression.

For anyone who has ever had a blog, I’m pretty sure they can attest to the fact that it’s tough to keep up with regular postings.

Unless someone wants to pay me buckets of money to talk about what I eat everyday, it’s safe to say that my posts will continue to be completely sporadic, ranging from a few times a week to once every few months.

Besides, I can assure you– if I wrote about my everyday life, you guys would drop like flies.

There’s only so many ways that I can say “I sat on my butt, alternating between reruns of How I met Your Mother and Kim and Kourtney Take New York all night” before I’d have to own up to the fact that yes, I am in fact, the world’s biggest waste of space.

So, anyway, now that we’re all here, let me catch you up on what’s been going on in my life.

My foot: (Because talking about my feet is apparently becoming a regular topic of conversation here.)

In my last post, I was in the throes of a terrible bout of plantar fasciitis.

Once I got over the fact that running through the pain was not going to help, I finally wised (is that a word) up and stopped trying.

And guess what?

My foot…got…BETTER!

Although the half marathon I wanted to do in February is a no go, I’m back up to running 5-7 miles a few times a week.

Granted, I’m nowhere near where I was when I ran the Miami Half back in 2009, but I’m getting there. Slowly but surely.

My New Place: Can you believe I’ve already been here for 6 months? Crazy, right?

I even hung curtains! (Please disregard the cheap curtain rods. I have better ones, I just haven’t hung them yet. I need a step ladder.)

Alas, as much as I love it here, I won’t be renewing my lease in August.

I knew from the start I’d probably only be here for a year.

So, I’ll miss it, but by the time August rolls around, I’ll be ready to move on. (Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to talk all about that new place when we find it. And I’ll post pictures. Lots of pictures. Your welcome.)

Work: I was recently also lamenting about the loss of my cube.

And…I still don’t have a cube.

The “6 month renovation project” in my office seems to be at a standstill.

Seriously. It’s been 3 months and I think all they’ve done is dismantled maybe 3 cubes.

Sigh.

But, as much as I was complaining, I actually don’t mind sitting amongst my co-workers.

I actually talk to other people during the day,instead of sitting alone in my cube doing crossword puzzles and shunning the outside world.

My new-found socialness with co-workers actually makes the day go by faster. And it also makes Moe very happy.

He isn’t faced with an interaction-starved human being talking a mile a minute at the end of the day.

Hooray!

And finally, the last thing:

My father has joined Facebook.

Last I looked, he’s up to 27 friends.

I always said, the day one of my parents got Facebook, I’d delete my account.

So far, he’s behaved himself. The only question posted on my wall so far has been “How do I put that picture in my spot?”

(That was his way of asking how to get a profile picture.)

Ohhh parents and social media. Sometimes I’m against it, but it can be pretty funny.

OK, well, now that we’re all caught up on the minutiae of my everyday life, we can get back to regular programming.

I’ll be back.

Probably not until February, but I promise, I’ll be back.

I’m not even going to try to make excuses.

I’ve been slacking.

I’ve gotten so lazy I haven’t even made a real dinner in the last three days. I’ve been eating frozen chicken nuggets.

But that’s neither here nor there. I’m actually here to talk about my feet.

Oh yeah.

Remember a few months ago when I went on a rampage about “how this is it! I’m going to run race! A really long race! Rah rah rah rah, I’m going to read running books! And buy finger shoes! And run like a man doing Tai Chi! WEE!”

Ok, weelll– I started to do all of that. I did.

I began by reading Born to Run.

If you haven’t read it yet, you have to.

It basically made me wish I was an African bushman, living in a village and hunting antelope with my bare hands.

I was all like “Screw work! I’m moving! I’m quitting my job to live the life of a running vagabond, with nothing but the shoes on my feet and the fanny pack around my waist! Lindsay Gump!”

Thankfully, I came out of whatever dream world I was living in and came back to Earth when I finished the book.

(I mean, c’mon. We all know I wouldn’t actually wear a fanny pack. Africa, yes. Fanny pack, no.)

However, the book did inspire me to run again. (That was the point, right?)

So, I started in on my half marathon training program.

I even switched shoes. Goodbye over-cushioned Saucony’s– helloooo 5 year old Puma’s with the flat sole that I’ve had forever.

And let me tell you, I felt great.

I was running like the wind! I was passing people on the streets!

When I got tired, I simply did as one tribe in Born to Run did.

I would find a runner in front of me, pretend they were an antelope, and chase them.

Except the people on the book were chasing real antelope.

So they could eat. And, you know. Survive.

Me? I was just some creep running the streets of Boston, sneaking up on people, and doing a little dance when I came up on their heels in silent victory.

In my head I’d be like, “Ha! If you were an antelope, you’d be dead! Sucker!

In real life, if they turned around, I’d stop and pretend to tie my shoe.

This strategy was going great.

And then–disaster.

One day at the gym, I had forgotten my new trusty Puma’s, so I had to wear my old, over-cushioned, soul-crushing Saucony’s.

I sanely and rationally talked myself through it.

“Just one run won’t kill me. I wanted to do 5 miles, so that’s what I’m going to do. 5 miles. No less.”

So, I got on the treadmill and started happily running, pony tail bouncing, feet feeling over-burdened and claustrophobic, but essentially ok.

One mile down. Two miles down.

Three miles down.

Ow, my heel kind of hurts.

3.5 miles down.

Why does my heel feel like it’s cracking in half?

4 miles down.

Good God I think I shattered my foot but I’m finishing these 5 miles if it f*cking kills me.

5 miles later, I was literally whimpering like a wounded kitten abandoned on the side of the road.

I limped home, iced it, put my feet up, and assumed I’d feel better in the morning.

The next morning I woke up, stretched, and swung my legs out of bed, stood up…

…and promptly almost fell over.

The only way to describe the pain is– it felt like someone had shattered my heel with a hammer and then lit it on fire.

As it progressively got worse throughout the day, it became clear that walking ever again was out of the question. I had resigned to live the life of a person who never stood up.

I would simply be known as Sitting Lindsay.

A little research later, it was obvious I was suffering from the bane of every runner’s existence.

Plantar Fasciitis.

Bascially, it’s a horrible foot condition, typical in runner’s, that has no cure and has been known to last for up to two years.

Two years.

Never mind all that though. I was all hung up on the fact that one of the causes was “sudden weight gain.”

Not “overtraining” or “bad running form”.

Nope. Sudden weight gain.

No longer was I a stealth Bushman hunting unsuspecting antelope on the African plains.

I was reduced to a chubby, red-headed faux runner who thought running another half marathon was easily within my grasp, until I was stricken with an incurable foot condition.

Wah.

So in summary– my foot hurts.

Real bad.

I guess I could have just said that from the start.

It happened before I even hit 30.

I can now say that yes, I have reached the stage in my life where I’ve…

(shudder)

Lied about my age.

(insert horrified look here.)

It’s so shameful.

Before you judge, let me explain.

I’ve got a list of 3 or 4 blogs that I have bookmarked on my computer that I read when I need to take a little break from work.

Most people do, right?

Not weird.

However, while I think it’s 100% ok to be a blog lurker (Love Letters anyone?), I am not one to comment on random blogs.

What can I say? I’m shy.

(Sorry.)

But the other day, one of the blogs that I follow had a post up a swimming.

See, this particular blogger has just gotten back into swimming after a hiatus and is realizing how much fun it can be.

And fun fact– I just happened to be a swimmer all through high school and college.

So what did I do?

I commented.

I decided I needed to tell her that after swimming for over 8 years, I was so burnt out, I doubted I would ever get in the pool again.

And then, I went to say that it still wasn’t fun, even after being out of college for…

…4…wait no…5…sii-iix?…(panicky feeling starts)

….over 7 years.

Over 7 years?

Oh he-llll no! There was no way I was going to admit that.

So, what did I do?

Instead of just abandoning my grand debut into the world of blog comments, I instead committed the creepiest crime on the Internet.

I lied about my age. To a bunch of strangers. On the web.

That pret-ty much puts me in the same category as someone who trolls dating websites by posting a picture of themselves from 20 years ago in an effort to get a random girl’s number so they can sext them while sitting in the comfort of their basement apartment in Queens.

Ew.

Never. Again.

Oh, and in case anyone is wondering, I told them I’ve been out of college for 4 years.

So, if anyone asks? I’m 25.

I’ve been mourning the loss if my cube door.

Actually, I take that back. I haven’t just been mourning the loss of my cube door. I’ve been mourning the loss of my entire cube.

See, I used to feel pretty smug about my cube at work. It had walls taller than me, and a door that slid shut for optimum privacy.

If I wanted to, I could stay ensconsed in my cube all day and not talk to anybody, hidden behind the brown fabric walls and semi-transparent plastic sliding door.

No matter that I had absolutely no access to natural light. I was happy to sacrifice my vitamin D levels for the mere fact that nobody could see me.

I knew most people didn’t have such luxuries as tall walls and doors. But I still always liked to slip it into conversation, just so they knew how good I had it, and then act all surprised when they told me how lucky I was to have such an awesome cube.

Me: Ha, yeah, so the other day, the guy across the hall from me was picking his nose and it was grossing me out, so I just…(dramatic pause)…slid my cube door shut so I couldn’t see him anymore.

Friend: Wait– you have a CUBE DOOR??

Me (wide-eyed and innocent):Oh…my…I thought everyone had a cube door. Why…yes…I do have a cube door.

Well, let me tell you, all my smugness came crashing and burning down around me approximately three weeks ago when my company was informed that the higher ups from London have decided to move to an “open-floor concept”.

Of course there had been rumors floating around that this might happen. But they’d been floating around for months and months. Nobody actually thought they would take away our cubes.

And even if they did, I figured it would be years before they ever got around to it.

Well, they did take away our cubes and it didn’t take years.

As of right now, I have three moving crates taking up the majority of my precious space, directions on how to pack up my computer, and instructions to be packed up by 5pm Thursday so all my stuff can be moved to our temporary space while they do construction.

I’ll be sitting with four other people at basically a counter with computer stations.

So forgive me, if in the coming weeks I seem a little on edge and anti-social. I fear too much human interaction at work will have severe implications on how I act outside of work.

I’m scared.

On a side note, packing up a cube I’ve occupied for 3 1/2 years isn’t fun. Working at a parenting website means I’ve accumulated a lot of interesting stuff, particularly stuffed animals. Having to pack them all up resulted in me just shoving them all into my gym bag, and I’m pretty sure a lady in the locker room thought I was a pedophile.

I’ll save that story for my next post though.

Oh, you guys. You’re making me blush. I actually have a fanbase!

My question is– do you want the truth? (pizza)

Or the ideal? (um, pizza with whole wheat crust?)

I kid.

Here’s the thing– While I do try to eat healthy on a consistent basis, my diet is far from perfect.

I love cheeseburgers. I would die for baked goods. And alcohol has a pretty regular spot on my beverage rotation.

Given my love for food, I try to take the “you can eat anything as long as it’s in moderation” approach.

Sometimes this works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

(Shameful truth– if I make a pizza at home, I can easily take down at least half of it. I try really hard not to do this, but, you know, sometimes I do. And I may or may not be watching Jerseylicious while doing it. Whatever. Go ahead and judge me.)

However, while I’m not one to be giving out nutrition advice (just yesterday I had 2 chocolate cookies after lunch. What? They were getting old. Someone had to eat them. I don’t bake cookies to throw them away. God.), I will be happy to share with you the healthier side of my diet.

My healthy eating tends to occur Monday-Friday between the hours of 8-4.

Eating right is so much easier when you’re on a schedule, am I right?

And, since today is Thursday and therefore falls into that time slot, I’ve eaten pretty well so far today.

So, let the meal tracking commence.

Breakfast today was my typical go-to Breakfast Sundae. (How is it that even for breakfast, I manage to make it sound like I’m eating sweets?)

I’m a sucker for Chobani Greek yogurt, but the flavored kinds are chock-full of sugar. This made me sad, since the peach kind if my fave.

Enter– chocolate protein powder. Yes, still sugary, but I can control how much I put in, and it adds a little extra protein to boot.

Throw in a few frozen blueberries, and voila! You’ve got yourself a very tasty, kind of frozen, sweet but not-too-sweet-for-breakfast Breakfast Sundae.

Nom nom nom

I also try to eat another piece of fruit along with this. Today it was an apple. A Fuji apple from the grocery store to be exact. I don’t usually like to eat fruit from the grocery store, but I haven’t been home to stock up in a while so Shaw’s apples it is.

And while I’m at it, I might as well start tracking my work outs too.

Wow– look at you guys keeping me on track!

So, yesterday was the big day I decided to officially start training for another half. I’ll be running 4 days a week, which leaves me two days a week to strength train, with one day rest.

Thursdays are a strength training day. Today’s workout was:

Warm Up:
Ankle/Knee/Hip/Shoulder Rolls
Random Stretching
Alternating Back Lunges
Side-to-Side Squats
More Random Stretching
(I have an actual warm up routine I should follow, but that doesn’t always happen. Today was one of those days.)

Main Set:
12x (per arm) 8kg Kettlebell Snatches
15x Bosu Ball sit ups
(Repeat 3 times)

Alternating 3 sets Incline Dumbbell Press/Lat Pulldown
Set 1– 10x @ 30 lbs Press
12x @ 80lbs Pulldown

Set 2– 8x @ 35lbs Press
6x @ 100 lbs Pulldown

Set 3– 6x @ 35lbs Press (meh)
5x @ 100 lbs Pulldown

Cardio Boost:
12x 28 kg Kettlebell Swings
15x 15 lb. Medicine Ball Slams
(Alternate 3x’s through)

Alternating 3 sets Chest Fly Machine/Bent-Over Row
Set 1– 10x @ 70lbs Flies
12x @ 65lbs Row

Set 2– 8x @ 80lbs Flies
8x @ 75 lbs Row

Set 3– 6x @ 80lbs Flies
6x @ 75lbs Row

Final Set– Ropes
100 Alternating
25 Rope Slams/25 Alternating
Repeat 25/25
Finish with 100 Alternating

Took me about 45 minutes, kicked my butt, and I feel good.

So, tell me loyal readers. Do you want to read about what I eat and what I do in the gym? Or should I stay away from the fitness/nutrition stuff and leave that to the pros?

I was on a pretty solid blogging streak there for a while, but my life has been pretty boring recently so I figured I wouldn’t bore you guys with stupid posts about unicorns again.

Your welcome.

Anyway, I’m back. With a sassy new haircut and a new training endeavor I’m going to undertake that you all will have the privilege of following.

First, the hair cut.

There’s something about the fall that always makes me want to chop off all my hair. And I’ve found it tends to happen in 2 year cycles.

I decide I want a new hair style, get my hair cut really short, love it for a week, start to hate it after two weeks, and then don’t get my hair cut for a year in protest.

I then keep it long for another year, swearing I’ll never cut it short again.

Then the itch to cut it starts, and I decide I must cut off all my hair right now OMG I can’t wait one more second to have short hair.

So, I make an appointment, usually for that day because, you know, I’m really patient, and by dinner time, my hair is gone and I’m left feeling much better, but slightly ashamed.

Kind of like a one night stand. Heh.

Side note– the past two times I’ve decided to cut my hair short, the change in length was so drastic two different stylists have asked me if it was because I was going through a break up.

I guess they’ve seen too many girls cut all their hair off in the midst of personal anguish and heartbreak?

Alas, that wasn’t the case for me. Moe was aware of the choppage I was about to do.

Anyway, with my short hair also comes a renewed sense to get back in shape.

OK, I never really fell out of shape.

But I want to get back to where I was when I was training for my half marathon.

I haven’t been totally slacking, I just haven’t been pushing myself as hard as I can.

And this, my friends, has resulted in some unwanted pudge around my waist:

There is a lot going on in this picture.

Recap: Cute hair. Unwanted pudge. Random knives on the wall. Very tasty Post Road Pumpkin Ale. (Try it. Seriously.)

So, it’s time for another half marathon. I’ve found one I’m going to do, I have my training schedule ready to go, and I tested my running legs on the treadmill today to make sure they still worked.

I ran 3 miles straight today. With a rock solid time of 29:05. Not very good.

So, first goal: Get my 5k back to where I’m running under a minute mile.

Here we go!

**Update. I just noticed a small, yet significant typo.

As much as I’d like to say I can run a mile in under a minute, making me the world’s fastest runner ever, I’m not quite there yet. Under a 9 minute mile is a leeeeee-tle more achievable. So, mmmmm, I’m going to go with that.

So, in preparation, I need to do a huge pile of laundry and start packing tonight.

I don’t know how many of you go camping, but packing for three nights in the wilderness can be tough.

It gets COLD in Maine at night (even in the summer) so essentially you have to pack fall and winter clothes along with your summery stuff.

And apparently, according to my brain, I don’t own any winter clothes.

(This is where my brain is wrong. I do, in fact, own winter clothes. I live in New England for Christ’s sake. I just can’t see them right now because they are packed away. Because it is summer. My brain can be really stupid sometimes.)

Anyway, thinking you don’t own any winter clothes when you’re going camping six hours north in two days can send even the most rational person into a blind panic.

And a blind panic for winter clothes will send even the most budget-conscious person running to H&M in search of warm (and preferably striped, because I’m obsessed with stripes right now thankyouverymuch) clothes.

And this, my friends, is how I ended up with a pair of fingerless gloves.

Yes. Fingerless (and stripeless) gloves.

Because having a pair of fingerless gloves will surely keep my hands warm in the dark, cold woods of Maine.

Who needs a coat or even a sweatshirt when you have a pair of fingerless gloves?

I mean, really? I need someone to slap me across the face.

No wonder they were $4.95.

They have no fingers you asshole.

So, I’ll be the one huddled in front of the campfire trying to keep warm while my friends sit comfortably bundled up in their practical fleece jackets and sweat pants.

Because on my lunch break today, I bought a pair of fingerless gloves.

Lindsay. FTL.

For. The. Loss.

No? Just me? Alrighty, then.

Anyway, a few of you have been heckling and harassing me about seeing some pictures of my new place. I won’t name names, but lets just say it isn’t my female friends who are curious to see how my decorating skills came to fruition.

Come to find out, you boys out there really are interested in home decor. You just hide it behind a sarcastic, bad-ass exterior.

So, to you ladies and gents who are dying to see some pics, I’ve posted a few. They aren’t the greatest quality since I snapped them quickly with my phone as I was running out the door, but I figured a few crappy pictures would at least hold some of you over until I take some pictures with my real, live point and shoot.

So, without further ado…Studio Hutton:

This is where I sit when I am not in my bed.

This is where I sleep when I don't pass out on the couch

Yes, this IS all the room I need to feel at home.

You don't need to see my toilet and such, but I wanted to show you all the colors I used in the bathroom.

This is in my foyer, soon to be joined by a small, two-person dining table.

Because no apartment is complete without a wine rack.

I like stripes. That is all.

This is what I do when I am home alone. Drink wine and take pictures of me drinking wine.

I don’t have any pictures of my kitchen yet, or my dining chairs/table/foyer area. And I also need curtains and some other small things. But all in all, I think it came together very nicely. I’ve only been in my new place for two weeks, and I already feel so at home. I really do love it!

Next item on my agenda: Lindsay’s Anti-Hermit Initiative.
Description: Get a life, so I do not become a hermit.

Sounds easy enough, right?

Don’t believe me? I can prove it.

The following is a conversation that actually took place between me, my brother, and two of my cousins on Facebook.

It debunks that fact that unicorns are a myth.

In reality, they live in Paraguay, where they duel with bubbles and donate blood to infants.

Read on:

Cousin Keagan’s Facebook Status:
Dueling is legal in Paraguay as long as both parties are registered blood donors….in case you were curious….
Comments:
Cousin Kevin: I’m going to Paraguay!

Me: Me too!

Cousin Keagan: Are you two going to duel? Can I watch?

Cousin Kevin: Yes, duh!

Brother Patrick: i call winner

Me: We all know who’s gonna win. Let’s not kid ourselves.

Cousin Keagan: Yeah. We all know I’m the toughie of the family. Thanks for the credit Linds

Cousin Kevin: Mm hmm

Cousin Kevin: And pat I say yes to your challenge!

Me: Wait. We ARE all registered blood donors, right?

Brother Pat: i’m a registered blood donor…my blood goes to infants. do you even know how to shoot a gun lindsay? and keagan i thought you were just watching?

Cousin Keagan: I’ll watch until the final duel and then ill jump in because we all know I’m good enough to skip the first rounds. And who said anything about guns, mr. Violent!!

Brother Pat: how else do you propose we duel?

Cousin Kevin: bubbles

Me: I thought we were going to shoot rainbows out of unicorn horns. Isn’t that how they dual in Paraguay?

Brother Pat: so that’s where unicorns live!
*************************************************

Never underestimate the power of a Facebook status. You might learn really interesting things.
Don’t you wish you could come to our Thanksgiving dinners?

Happy Friday!

You know, like one of those people who can just run. Someone who makes it look easy. And fun.

Sadly, I am not one of those people.

Sure, I’ve run a half marathon before (with a time of 2:15, which averages out to about a 10:30 pace. Not bad. But certainly not “effortless runner” status.)

And aside from that, I’ve got several 5 milers and 10ks under my belt.

My fastest pace in a race has been a 9:02 mile. It was a 10k. And boy was I proud. (Side note: this is not where I am now. It makes me sad.)

Anyway, the bottom line is– I can run. I’m just not good at it.

Recently, I haven’t really been focusing too much on my running, and have been concentrating more on strength, flexibility, and functional exercises.

But the past few weeks, I’ve been getting the itch to run another long race. For a while I couldn’t figure out why, but yesterday, in the middle of a set of 28kg kettlebell swings, it hit me.

While my workouts have certainly been kicking my butt, there’s been something lacking.

I just haven’t been feeling…accomplished.

I don’t want to work out just to work out. I need a goal. Something to work towards.

And since I accomplished my push up goal (3 sets of 12 full ones! Go me! Go me!), I think it might be time to embark on another running goal.

Perhaps a…marathon.

Or, maybe another half first. (Baby steps, here, people. Baby steps.)

But, I have also decided that if I’m going to do this, I’m going to this right. I don’t want to run a long race just to run it.

I want to run it, and feel good.

I want to feel accomplished.

So, step one is to work on how I run. After years of running in my Saucony’s, my gait, posture, and overall technique leaves much to be desired.

I basically look like I’m always running headlong into a gust of 30 mph wind.

Which is why I’ll be purchasing this book:

Without boring you too much with science, it teaches you to run from your core, not from your legs. Translation: Less injury. Stronger body.

If you want to read more, go to the Chi Running website. And if you want the book, you can get it on Amazon.

For a little more inspiration, I will also be getting Born to Run:

And along with the books, I’m making the jump to Vibram Five Fingers.

Yes. These things:

Don’t knock ‘em til you try ‘em. (Actually, I haven’t tried them yet. But, I know they are what I need.)

So, expect a few posts here and there as I slowly wade into the barefoot running craze. My research suggests it’s a very slow process, so a long race might be kind of far off.

But for the first time in a long time, I’m actually excited about the gym again.

And in the words of Martha Stewart, that is a very good thing.