GNU perspective

Ok. He looks pretty bad ass.

".... camber.... contact points.... magne-traction..." I am only half listening as Boyfriend goes on and on about more technical aspects of snowboards than I have ever encountered in my 24 years on mountains. Don't get me wrong, I love Boyfriend and his impressive ability to memorize every intricate detail of things like his salt water reef tank, dinosaurs, and every inner working part of Veronica his Acura RSX (type S). But our brains simply aren't wired the same. I don't always analyze so much, and when it comes to snowboarding I am simply it it for the adrenaline rush. The feel and the noise of the wind ripping by your face as you fly down the side of a mountain. I am art and he is science, and once in a while we see eye to eye.

"So what do you think?" He asks me. Fail. I don't have an answer. I don't even know that I understood anything he said.

"I think you should wait." I say blankly. I don't understand. I don't get what is so great about this board he keeps talking about, but to be fair I am not really giving him a chance to explain. I don't want to. There is a not so small chance he is right. I want to be right. So I stick to my guns on the fact that he said he'd save first. Because he did say that. And boy am I a stickler for a technicality. I would blame my stuborness on my ignorance. I don't know the damnedest thing about snowboards. I know that they're expensive. And I know that right now Boyfriend doesn't have one. And for that I feel bad.

We had taken my two younger sisters up to Camelback mountain over president's day weekend. One sister was on skis and one was new to boarding. So we had split up, each taking a girl within our own skill level and spend all morning up and down the mountain. We broke for lunch around 1:30, and were having the best time I can remember having with my sisters in a long time. No one was fighting. No one was crying. We laughed and ate, and got geared up to go outside. Only when we got to the gear racks, Boyfriend's board was gone. I was in shock, although I can only imagine what was going through his mind. I knew bad things happened, I knew things got stolen. But it always feels so surreal when it happens to you, or someone close to you. The day only went downhill from there, and after filing a report with the resort, the police station, and trudging all over the grounds in our heavy boots hoping somehow it had simply been misplaced. He was crushed. And I was crushed for him. Of course from this tragedy also brought the silver lining that maybe the K2 Podium in a 161 W was not the board for him. Perhaps the guy who had sold it to him was just trying to get rid of old stock, and if he was going to get a new board, well it was going to be right this time!

And so the research began. Boyfriend excels at researching. And I am completely serious. If there is anything I feel secure in about our future it is that when we make large purchases they will be thoroughly researched, and thought out. But right now it was like not a waking moment could go by with out learning something new, and I couldn't keep up for how many times he would change his mind. I couldn't keep up the pace as he chattered on about different brands like Ride, Burton, and his newfound love for some company called GNU and how they make fantastic boards with amazing technology and are super hard for stores to keep in stock. I'll admit he makes a few good points but I am so annoyed with this newfound urgency that I keep pushing the fact that it's just not the right time to make such a large purchase.

And so we continue to have this argument, over him getting a new board, for a little while until I call it a draw and admit we aren't going to see eye to eye. We talking about work, and the gym, etc.

We continue to have this argument again the next day when he calls and confesses to have bought the board. It's not like he would have kept it from me. And It's not like I'm mad. I just don't understand the obsession he has with this board and getting it RIGHT NOW. I am happy he is happy, I really am. I just don't understand, and it the need to understand something I can't that is holding me back.

We even continue to have this argument on Saturday when we are at the mountain. I am not proud of this side of me, not my any means. I nag and make mean comments about how buying the board wasn't really necessary and things like that. I am disgusted with myself even as I say them. What kind of girlfriend am I right now? I have to admit, it looks pretty amazing. It's a bright white, almost with a purple tint, covered in the most brilliant blue and jet black graphics. It has these weird slightly curved, almost seraded sides and they are so foreign to me I keep referring to them as 'weird'.

Truth? I'm jealous. Truth? I didn't really have a choice of what board I got, and to be quite honest I never thought it mattered. But that was five years ago, and five years ago let's be honest I could stand up but I was pretty terrible. I didn't need to know about Magne-traction (Google it, it's actually pretty fantastic) or riding switch.

As the day goes on I turn my attitude around and I become more accepting. I start to realize that this is a part of Boyfriend's personality that I cannot change. He is a technical person. He is not trying to be better than me, or smarter than me (although naturally he is very much smarter than me) and I even admit to him while we ride the chair lift to the top - I feel stupid when he tells me all these technical things about something I introduced him to in the first place. Maybe If I would stop being so stubborn I would learn a thing or two. I even ask if I can test it out, and although he agrees I never follow through with my request.

The next day after we have slept ridiculously late, whined to each other about how sore we are from being beat up by a mountain of snow, and feed our crying bodies egg sandwiches and coffee, we sit together pouring over websites. I have been bitten by the research bug and thing about getting myself something new by the end of next season. We calculate sizes based on height and weight, look each company's boards and compare which ones have the best technology (and of course the best designs!), read consumer reviews and talk about what would be best for me. As it turns out this kid really did his homework.

I realize how much I love this moment. Sitting and talking about something we both love to do. We may have different approaches to every situation, different ways of solving problems and ideas of how to live our lives sometimes but that shouldn't interfere with things that are supposed to make us both happy. Isn't this why I wanted Boyfriend to ride with me in the first place? To share something? I guess it was only ok as long as I was the one who knew the most. All right point taken. Sometimes it's ok for other people to know more than me. Because look on the bright side, now I don't have to do all the research and (when I am ready) I get to have an expert who is willing to go shopping with me! And who knows, maybe in enough time he will learn a few things from me. Like how to let go and just FEEL yourself flying down the mountain. It's an experience everyone should get once in their lives.

xx Sara

Let's talk about the B-L-I-N-G!

There are five finisher medals hanging on the wall next to my desk in my bedroom. Each one with a story, each one holding a special place in my heart. This morning as I slowly woke up from the exhaustion only two days of hard running in a row can bring, I realized that very shortly my collection was about to expand. In two months I have my first half marathon of the year and then at least two more to follow.

I remember my mom's medal collection, she had at least ten that I can recall. Not all from marathons though. Some from halves, some from 10k's or other races. I remember the Disney ones, the Donald Duck from the Disney World Half, and the Mickey Mouse from the Disney World Full. She didn't run for the medals, I don't think any REAL runner really does run for the medal. But when you put in that amount of work and dedication, having those medals around to remind you of what you have accomplished makes you feel pretty good sometimes.

Disneyland Half Marathon - By far one of my biggest pieces of bling and one that means the most to be becuase it was my first ever long race. It was the one that started it all, and at the same time it was one of the best and worst races I have run. I was in a fabulous place surrounded by amazing people who encouraged me to keep going and make it to the end. But by the time I crossed that finish like at 13.1 the bottoms of my feet hurt more than they ever have - they felt like they were on fire and it was one of my slowest times to date. And yet after all the hard work I was hungry for more.

Me (front row second from the right) with my pace group 'The Kathy -O's' proudly showing off our finisher medals.

Philadelphia Half Marathon - My first race that my whole family came to watch. My first time running in my new city. I ran alone, but I managed to PR which felt amazing. And the more races I added to my list the more I wanted to do.

Me crossing the finish line of the Philadelphia Half Marathon. And yes I felt just as miserable as I look!

Philadelphia Distance Run - Affectionately known as the PDR to the locals is one of the best race courses I've done. It was one of my best, and favorite races to date. I had been training with Larry for the Philadelphia Full for three months, I was in the best shape of my life, and I PR'd. After this race I kept pushing myself even further. Unfortunately the only pictures of me running this race are by the race photographers and I didn't purchase any of them. No family came to watch this race since it was not the 'it' event of the year. It was only supposed to be a warm up, to show my body how hard I would need to push. After finishing this race, I was still in total doubt that I'd ever be able to finish a full marathon

Philadelphia Marathon - At the time I ran this race, it was the most proud moment of my entire life. For four years I talked about running a marathon for my mom to see. Something she had done with so much passion and love for the sport, and not for any recognition or acknowledgement. My mom who I admire more than anyone on the entire planet for working twice as hard as she needs to every day because she knows it's the right thing to do. Having gone through all the training and finally understanding what she had done for so many years and then having her be there to watch me finish, definitely brought tears to my eyes. The pink bow attached to the ribbon on this medal is my lucky pink hair bow which I wear religiously for every race since this one. It's just my way of bringing a little bit of Lilly to brighten my spirits.

Me (in green) and Larry (in orange) Coming around the final turn to the finish line at the Philadelphia Marathon (also pretty sure that is my mom's hair in the bottom left corner of the picture)

Hartford Marathon - Bringing it back to my (almost) hometown to give my family a break from the five hour drive to watch me run. Let's be honest here for a moment, marathons are not a great spectator sport. Especially when the whole city is shut down for a race, it's the middle of November and freezing. Hartford was supposed to be the race I broke 4 hours. My whole extended family came out to support me - aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and of course this was the day boyfriend meet them all. The race itself was a disaster and even though I PR'd with 15 minutes of my time from last year it was no where close to 4 hours and I felt like I had let everyone down. But Larry reminded me, when it was all over, that I accomplished something even he probably could not have done. I did not once ever, give up on that race. I ran at least half of the race feeling like someone was sitting on my chest and although I considered dropping out I never stopped moving. I even gave myself a final push at the very end. So when I look at that medal I know I am capable of anything.

Larry (again in orange) and Me (in blue) at the finish of the Hartford Marathon.

Hopefully by years end I can add at least three more finishes to the collection. Each race serving a purpose and maybe even a PR by the end of 2010. Until then I continue to look to the medals I already have to serve as inspiration and motivation to get up every day and work as hard as I can even it means sacrifice.

"There are no shortcuts to anywhere worth going"

xx Sara

Life in snow-globe. Or something like it.

From my boyfriend's apartment's bedroom window I can see the sun sparkle off the water of the Manayunk Canal. Snowbanks are piled up in every corner of the parking lot and if I had to guess I would say they were all taller than I am. It is the calm after the storm and everyone is trying to clean up the mess that a 24 hour long blizzard left. I sat on the bed cozy in my pj's, sipping coffee, and working from home. I am not yet ready to treck outdoors and begin to pick up the pieces. '

As I watch the sun melted snow (also known affectionally as water) I think about the possibility of going out for a afternoon run. Running outdoors is something I haven't done since christmas day, and something I haven't enjoyed since way before Thanksgiving. I can tolerate anything above 40 degrees, I don't mind anything around 60 degrees but I really love good 75 degree afternoon. Clearly that is not in the cards for me between December and April since I live in PA. Damn.

It is not that I am afraid to run in the snow, Ok maybe I am a little afraid. But more so I think it is just a big misunderstanding. I don't understand the snow, how am I supposed to run in it? Running to me means going fast, how can I go fast with 20+ inches of this fluffy white stuff at my feet? It feels awkward and cautious and while I am watching where my feet go every five seconds I am not letting my mind fly free as I would usually do on a run. This does not mean that it is impossible to run in snow, or that I should not run in snow, but it is this misunderstanding that keeps me from running out doors in the winter.

Of course I have been known to make a few exceptions. And wouldn't you know it's when Larry is involved. Somehow that kid has a way of making me feel like I can push myself twice as hard. Now that he is out of my life I find that some of my newfound running twitter tweeps have that same motivational effect.

It was a February evening in 2008. I had been keeping in shape at the gym and once a week Larry and I would meet after work for a long run through fairmount park. On this night in particular the weather was beyond awful. It was about 32 degrees outside, and a sloppy mixture of freezing rain was coming down from the clouds. This of course did not stop either of us. Something in me wanted to prove I could brave the elements and finish this five mile run. So I layered up in under armor long pants (probably one of the only times I will wear long pants to run) a few different running tops and my Disneyland Half Marathon windbreaker. Topped it off with a winter hat and gloves and we were ready to go. Of course I don't remember much about the run that night, the course and the conversation were probably pretty ordinary. But I will never forget the feeling of finishing the run despite the weather. When we got back all our clothes were covered in chunks of ice. The freezing rain had landed on us and frozen into solid mases. Even my hair was frozen solid. I of course changed into warm clothes right away, and when I was done I found Larry in his room already reading about running.

"Now I feel like a legit runner" I said to him as I leaned on the door frame to his tiny room.

"You finished a marathon, you were already a legit runner" He says to me.

And for a moment, I am as proud as I have ever been. Because it's not often that Larry recognizes ordinary people as legit runners.

xx Sara

Feeding my inner fat kid

Towards the end of my freshman year in college I started to realize I had been abusing my amazingly fast metabolism, and it was taking revenge on my body by working a little bit slower than I would have liked. I had always been pretty slim, but I was starting to grow into my pear shaped body, something I was none too happy about. So I went on probably the first of many 'diets' of my college life. It was probably the best thing I could have done for myself because up until this point I lived on pretty much junk food. I stopped drinking soda, eating ice cream, chips, and french fries. Not only was this my first diet but it was one of the longest times I have ever been able to go without indulging.

That summer I worked at least three different jobs but in my off hours I spend most of my time hanging out with my older cousin K. K and I were like sisters. She was 18 months older and was everything a true older sister could be. She teased me about everything I did that was 'uncool', she taught me most of the things I knew about boys, and of course she convinced me that everything we did, no matter how stupid I thought it was, was a good idea. She was not often right, she had lots of bad ideas. My mom always said that when we were together we shared a brain.

K's parents often went away on vacation leaving her at home so that summer there were lots of parties. Lots of trips to the grocery store to stock up on french fries, ice cream, soda, chips, etc. Wait, aren't those all the things I was giving up? She didn't really care if I had given them up or not, she just wanted me to do things her way. I remember being at the store picking out all these things and her making a comment that 'everyone has a little fat kid in their stomach asking for all these things, and yours is really mad at you cause you don't feed it anything good'.

She was right. Not long before this we had been out driving and we came across a Cold Stone Creamery. I had never been to a cold stone, and if it had been about six months earlier I would have been ecstatic to get ice cream mixed with my customized mix ins on a freezing slab of granite. But I turned her down. I watched as she selected her flavor and various candies cookies and sauces and the kid behind the counter mixed it up into a delicious mess. As we walked out of the shop, I turned down he offer to even try the concoction and said something she still continues to tease me about to this day. "Sometimes I like to eat yogurt and pretend it is ice cream"

Well this weekend I definitely fed my inner fat kid. He is so happy I don't think he will be bothering me for months.

I don't remember when I started to hear rumors of this crippling snow storm that was threatening our city, but I heard it was going to start Friday during the day so I had to form a plan of attack. I don't mind food shopping but I really DO mind food shopping with a bunch of snow paranoid crazies! So Wednesday night after work I headed out to the Acme and got ready for a snowed in weekend. When I walked into the supermarket, like always I went for the usual basics. Apples, carrots, bananas, bagels, and 12 grain bread, but what happened next I am not sure. It was like something took over me, like I was possessed with a sugar crazed no care for her wallet woman. The girl who usually only buys things on sale was suddenly reaching for brand name cereal, soda, ice cream, and chips - talk about out of body experience.

I am convinced there is something about being cooped up in the house all weekend that makes normal people exponentially more hungry that ever possible. I planned to stay all weekend at boyfriend's apartment, mostly because we had spent the last snowstorm at my place. But also because my neighborhood turns into a disaster in the snow and I like to stay as far away from there as possible until it gets cleaned up.

Friday night after working all day, I started off by baking about three dozen chocolate chip cookies, extra chocolate chips. We ordered two pizza's as we waited for the snow to arrive. And we finished up the night with large bowls of Eddy's Thin Mint ice cream. WHAT?

Saturday as the snow blanketed us in a white winter wonderland we made egg and cheese sandwiches, with coffee, and a side of chocolate chip cookies. Yes that's right - chocolate chip cookies. There was various grazing throughout the day of a piece of cold pizza here and there, a few bowls of cereal and later in the day I broke out the white wine. Hey why not? It's not like I had anywhere to go. At least the whole day wasn't terrible, we sautéed pork chops in olive oil and whipped up some rice-a-roni with steamed broccoli. But of course one dinner was not enough for either of us so we warmed up the rest of yesterday's pizza and ate that as well. what is that you say boyfriend? we couldn't possibly get any more gluttonous? oh well i think we could - let's have ice cream and just for kicks lets dip chocolate chip cookies in it. SOLD!

Now it is Sunday, and after bacon eggs and toast for breakfast, the only thing I want to eat for three days is fruit and ice water.

On most days, that little fat kid who lives in my stomach can be awfully annoying. He wants chocolate and cake and fat and calories but I have pretty strong willpower and I tell him to shut it and behave himself. He learns to put up with eggs whites, water, vegetables and fruit. But there is something about a snowstorm that buries my control. It blurs my vision with beautiful flakes, maybe it's the fact that snow looks like sweet crystals of sugar.

I don't know about my inner fat kid, but I sure am looking forward to tomorrow's workout.

xx Sara

Breaking into the booty shorts club

Ok I have a confession, I like to run in as little clothing as possible. It's not that I am some kind of crazy attention seeker. I realize that it is extremely risky to run alone in the evening hours and the fact that I am clad in nothing more than shorts and a sports bra do not make me any safer. But to defend myself - clothes just get in the way. I can't stand the way T-shirt sleeves get all bunched up as my arms move back and forth. I despise running tank tops as their tight fitting bodies tend to creep up my torso and settle in a bunch around my narrow waist. I cannot spend an hour yanking a top down around my hips every three minutes. I hate pants when I run. Sometimes I can tolerate a legging but the length always feels awkward. There are days when even my regular running shorts are too long and they catch on my thighs. I have a bad habit of hiking them up so they are out of my way but of course they never really stay that way.

All that being said, It is a wonder to me that I still haven't broken down and got myself a pair of spandex booty shorts for running. Oh I have thought about it. There have been many times wandering through Dicks, or at Philadelphia Runner, my local running store, where I will see a fabulous pair of tight shorty shorts and just HAVE to try them on. I tell myself that this is it, this will be the time I will find a pair of shorts I like. That lasts all of 2.5 seconds because as soon as I am in that tiny little fitting room, the one with the three way mirror and the bad lighting that accentuates my butt in all the bad ways and none of the good ways, I take one look at myself in those shorts and remind myself why I still do not own any.

I wouldn't say I have body image issues. In fact I couldn't be happier with the shape I am in. More than anything I think I am just honest with myself about my body. I have been in the fashion industry long enough to know that I am with out a doubt pear shaped person. I am tiny on top and full on the bottom. Looking at the rest of my family I am not sure where this stems from but that really isn't the point now is it? I also seen enough people in life wear clothes that are either not their size, or not for their body type. Just because you want to be a size 6, and can squeeze your butt into a size 6 if you don't eat, breath or move, doesn't mean you should actually be wearing a 6. I have watched too many people look stupid to make that mistake myself. And so every time I wear those tight shorts I remind myself I do not have a tiny perky little backside and

So when I found myself in Aerie trying to find something to spend christmas gift certificate on I surprised even myself by picking up yet another pair of stretchy shorts to try on. Of course I also. picked up a few other styles including the traditional nylon shorts with the brief liner just to be safe. I don't shop often but when I do I tend to be overwhelmed by sales staff. Especially in a store that is aimed at people half my age. So when the sales girl comes up to me for a second time to see if she can start me a fitting room I just give in and go to try things on. Let's get this over with.

First up are the real running shorts. They are adorable, navy with white side panels and pink trim. They look short enough to not get in my way, but long enough to cover my whole behind and not just a part of it. I pull them on, and right away realize they are not made for people with my body. They are made for my 14 year old sister who is 5'5" and about 100 lbs with a perfectly flat stomach and no curves. NEXT! Second, I take a deep breath and pick up the spandex shorts. I am not at all convinced that these will look good but they have a nice fold over waistband at the top and so I convince myself this will make it better. Perhaps it was the spacious fitting room, or the lighting, or the fact that I was not spending my own money that night but as I turned and looked at myself in the mirror, I was for once, not completely horrified. I was quite pleased. Ok I take that back I will leave it with I was not horrified.

I actually jogged in place in my bare feet to make sure the shorts did not bother me at all until I remembered that the fitting room walls and doors stopped a foot from the floor and people were probably noticing that I looked like a total spaz. Ok I was sold. I was actually a little excited. I had finally got brave enough to buy spandex shorty shorts! But could I bring myself to wear them?

I packed them in my gym bag Sunday night. With no other options and knowing I needed to work out I would have to wear them. Monday after work - I faced the music and put them on. I did my regular Monday workout with SuperBoss and then I started up the treadmill for my run. The rest of my outfit was just adorable if I do say so myself. I matched my black shorts with a black Nike sports bra and topped it off with a turquoise Lilly tank that had a slight racer back cut at the back. It was supposed to have two buttons at the front but it had been a sample so the buttons were missing. Something that was a little too scandalous for an every day outfit made a fantastic workout top!

Long story short (no pun intended) I ran 5 1/2 miles that night in these little booty shorts and I loved every part of it. Next time I think I will go for a pair with out the fold over waistband. It kept creeping up and unfolding so I would much prefer something that stayed in place. But as far as the tightness and the shortness, it was like running in nothing with the benefit of being clothed. Now that I had made the jump and tried spandex shorts I was completely addicted. I now want to replace my whole shorts wardrobe with spandex shorts and get rid of my old baggy brief lined ones. Who knows maybe it will even future motivate me to tone up my hamstrings and tush.

Guess the moral of this story is you never know how great something is unless you actually try it out. That, and as much as our society emphasizes looks and appearances sometimes you just have to say "hey world, shove it" and do what you want. Because once I finally stopped worrying about what was in the mirror and got out there, it was pretty awesome.

xx Sara

Fear or Fly

The soft music of my cell phone alarm wakes me from such a wonderful sleep, it takes every once of willpower with in me to get out of bed. It's cold but force my eyes to open, find my running tights and tank top folded neatly on my chair and pull them on. It's 7am on a Saturday morning in mid January and although I am getting ready to head outside, I am NOT going running for once.

In years past, winter was not only my time off from running to enjoy my friends and a few happy hours here and there with out feeling too guilty, but it was also my time to enjoy winter sports. Born and raised in New England, I practically grew up on skis. In fact I am not sure what happened first, my first step or my first time on skis. I was also pretty in love with ice skating, figure skating in particular. I remember almost every school vacation going to the Forest Park Ice Rink and skating for hours. I was in love of the complete grace and beauty of the sport. One Christmas I even got lessons as a gift and so every Sunday night I would head off to the local rink in my little black leggings ready to be an ice princess.

Of course as much as I loved both these things, none could ever take priority over running. Once the weather got to be above 50 degrees I was ditching my board and skates for sneakers and logging the miles.

This year though, this year I was going to do something different, something a little crazy. I wasn't going to give up anything. I would keep on running, and I would keep on snowboarding and skating and pretty much see how much torture my body could take. So that is why on this Saturday morning, after logging 15 miles on the treadmill for the week I was getting dressed for the cold. Boyfriend and I layer up and head out to pick up coffee. We drive up to the mountain with some good friends, get dressed in more gear and head out. The snow is powdery and soft on top and hard packed beneath. Not to icy but not too soft. Goldilocks would be pleased.

As we start down the mountain I resist the urge to coast away as fast as I can, taking the switchbacks like a pro. A few people in our group are still beginners and as I watch them practice chaining turns and gain their confidence my mind wanders back to a conversation from the past weekend.

Driving back from Camelback last weekend, boyfriend asks me what I think about when I am boarding. Do I think about what to do next, the skill set I use as I make each turn?

"I don't think," I tell him, "I just feel it and I go"

Perhaps this comes from my comfort with the mountain, my years of experience in the snow or maybe my love for speed. I have always loved going fast. When I am running repeats there is no feeling in the world more amazing than my turnover being so fast I imagine it as a blur beneath my torso. That feeling of invincibility is the same thing that overcomes me as I fly down the hill.

Perhaps it is because after a few lessons many years ago I just started teaching myself. Some people can play music by ear, I ride down the mountain by feel. Sure I could choose to be scared, I could choose to get anxious about the height of the mountain or about the speed at which I sail to the bottom, but that only makes me shaky inside and I am bound to fall. Fear can be good but it can also set you up for failure.

In life you are faced with a choice. You can either dwell on something that is overwhelming you and let your worries eat away at your confidence like a kid with an ice cream cone in July or you can attach it head on. You have to have confidence, and if you don't you learn to fake it by telling yourself you can do it until you start to believe it is true. "I can't do this" turns into "I can do this" and later becomes "Hell yes I can take on anything". So what's the worse that can happen? You fail? I can think of worse things. If you fall down ten times, get up ten times and just keep on going.

More and more this is the attitude I have chosen to adopt for life. You can be scared of a million things or you can go through life and just feel every bit of every moment. Feel life, and enjoy being alive.

Later that day as we head home I can feel every muscle in my body thanking me for such an incredible workout. My legs, arms and core all worked together as one to balance and maneuver me down the mountain. I am feeling good, like parts of my body that would never get to work hard during a run finally got to be awake and feel. I may be crazy - but the soreness after a good workouts is something I enjoy. It means I did my best, it means I pushed myself, and it means i am alive.

Boyfriend and I on our first boarding trip of 2010!

xx Sara

Don't stop the beat

Nothing gets me motivated to go for a run, run faster, or run longer, more than a good running playlist. The beat does something to me, motivates me to move. It's like that moment in a movie when the main character decided to really go for whatever thing they are after, the thing that makes the finale of the movie. Like 'Eye of The Tiger' is to Rocky, stuff like "Party in the USA" is to me. I blame my love of pop music on my past life as a cheerleader. Ok it was not a past life, it was this life, just in the past. Sometimes it feels like another life because of how much I have grown since that time, but I digress.

Through most of my first year of training I was musicless, and this worked great for solo long runs on saturday mornings. I would spend the time reflecting on my week, or enjoying the scenery around me. Sometimes I would even narrate the run in my head and when I got back I would sit down and write it all down (after a long stretching session of course) to inspire me later on. Of course I did not always enjoy running sans tunes. I did it because for most races it is against course rules to run with headphones, among other things (Rollerblades, baby strollers, etc.). I am a big advocate for practicing all your long runs exactly as you would a race, so when the big day arrives there are no surprises, nothing new to get in the way of your plan, the only variable is the weather. So knowing there would be no headphones on race day, I made it a rule to make headphones very sparse during training. It helped that most of my runs were done with Larry and so I had someone to chat with, I didn't even mind the occasional gaps of silence.

But of course at the beginning of every running season, sometime in late March, I would need an extra push. As the snow began to melt, when the days grew longer and the air calling me outside to breath spring into my lungs, I would turn to my trusty IPod to help motivate me out the door when I was used to sitting on the couch.

My very first running mix was born from cheerleading. Senior year when our new coach had us running the mile once a week at practice I knew I would need to bring along my trusty discman and an energizing mix CD to keep me going! I was 17 at the time, but that does't really explain for my choice in songs. Quite honestly now that I go back and look at them, because YES I still have that CD, I am not sure what I was thinking.

- Diana Ross and the Supremes - 'Love Child'

- Bobby Darin - 'Dream Lover'

- The Chiffons - 'One Fine Day'

- The Angels - 'My Boyfriend's Back'

- Kenny Loggins - 'Footloose'

- Rick Springfield - 'Jessie's Girl'

I think I had a thing for the oldies? Apparently I found it motivating. Well it worked. By the end of our 2002 football season I had been able to complete a mile in just about 10 minutes. I was pretty proud of this at the time.

And can we just please for one moment review my musical choices for a Mix CD entitled "April '04 Running Mix" ( I think I may just break this out for my next workout...) This list right here is proof that all I require is a repetative beat to get me going. These in no way reflect my

- Hillary Duff - 'Come Clean'

- The Darkness - 'I Believe in a Thing Called Love' (Really??)

- S Club 7 - 'S Club Party'

- Bon Jovi - 'Livin' on a Prayer'

- Beyonce - 'Naughty Boy'

- J Kwon - 'Tipsy'

- 'Final Fantasy X2 Theme' (where did I even FIND this song??)

- 'Heaven is a Place on Earth (Remixed)'

- Jay Z - 'Excuse me miss - Neptune's Remix'

My main problem with the discman was that I have MAJOR music ADD. For some reason no matter how catchy or how much I love a song or a playlist, after a week I want something new. I want to be caught by surprise. Same tracks in the same order day after day week after week and it's like running the same five mile workout at an even pace the whole time. Where was the challenge? The excitement? The stimulation!?

Enter into the days of the IPod and the Playlist - my saviors! Thankfully now I was able to mix and match my tunes as I pleased. My running playlist changes almost daily whether it be one or two new added songs, or a new compilation of older stuff. My music = anything from Brittany Spears to Coheed and Cambria, to Cascada, to 80's hits, oh the list can go on for days. It's my little bit of magic that makes the pain of ten miles seem to evaporate into the notes.

Recently Boyfriend has been running a few days a week, and I find it puzzling the tunes he chooses to run to. I guess I had never really thought that the upbeat music wouldn't pump up every one. I don't know why I didn't see this coming. Boyfriend and my musical tastes couldn't be at more opposite ends of the spectrum. There were places that we overlapped sure, but the majority of songs we did not share a common opinion on. Once he told me he liked running to Manson I about fainted on the spot. Say what? How does that motivate you at all? But of course I am not one to judge. And more so I am not one to judge what gets you on your feet as long as you get on your feet.

But now I just need to know - what is on YOUR running playlist that gets you pumped?

xx Sara