Stone Soup. And other ways to make something from nothing

I am standing in the juice aisle at Acme, overwhelmed by the amount of choices before me. I scan over all the brightly colored labels for 100% juice. I am not a food snob, but there are certain ideas I have about the things I put in my body. Call me crazy but you only get one self, you might as well take care of it, even if it's difficult sometimes. I continue to browse, finally landing on store brand berry juice, it's cheaper than anything on sale and at least it is not labeled as anything 'cocktail' aka 'full-of-sugar'. Stopping to grab the last few things on the list, which is in my head I toss milk, granola bars, bagels into the cart. I hold my breath as the items go down the conveyor belt, hoping I managed to stay under my self set budget of $50.

"42.69" and I almost jump for joy. I am giddy with excitement as I push the cart out of the store. Was it easy to say no all the wonderful choices in the cookie aisle, definitely NOT. Did I enjoy walking away from the Kraft Mac and Cheese that was ridiculously ON SALE and super cheap? Ok well that I did enjoy because there is something that completely weirds me out about orange cheese power. I had to be very disciplined, but in the end it is worth it.

Welcome to my life as I continue down the road of "Wracked up too much debt in college and now am SERIOUSLY paying for it as I begin to grow up and plan for my future" FYI it's not a trip I would highly recommend but thankfully it's nearing the end of the journey. I am getting tough, sucking it up, pushing through those last few miles (so to speak) and doing what I know needs to get done. Just another aspect of life in which there are no excuses.

Back at home I unpack groceries all over the counter, begin to cook dinner, and at the same time play one of my favorite cooking games. "What can I make with the things in my kitchen" This game usually occurs when the fridge is looking a little empty, and my cabinet shelves are somewhat bare. And also, I HATE throwing away food. I collect a range of ingredients that could possibly go together and I attempt to make them into a meal. I am the queen of saving things in the freezer to make into other things later on. Tonights players include, beef juices leftover from a roast (wonderfully seasoned and smelling divine), one large can of crushed tomatoes, 1/4 of an onion, a chunk of steak leftover from making chili sometime back in the fall, and a can of corn.

To be honest I wasn't sure exactly what was going through my head when I decided that all these things should go together in one dish. Nor did I even have any CLUE what this dish would be. So I get started and open up the container of beef juices. As soon as I do this I have less confidence in this night being a success than before. It's not that it smells bad (because it smells wonderful!) or looks bad, but I am a total loss for how this is going to become a meal! Oh well here goes nothing, I strain the fat and other bits with my fabulous mini strainer that fits right into my medium sized sauce pan.

I think to myself "this is the kind of thing I see other people posting photos of on their blogs! I must take pictures". So I grab my camera and shoot away. But all I have is a picture with a sauce pan with brown liquid in the bottom. Yum! I open up the crushed tomatoes. Confession I cannot remember what crushed tomatoes actually look like, are they more like sauce? are they whole? Oh look at that, they are saucy and wonderful. But now how much should I put in, and I STILL don't know what this is going to be in the end. As I scoop about 1/2 a can of tomato goodness into the sauce pan which is now over a low flame, I get a whiff of their sour scent.

"Great," I am thinking "Tomatoes are not delicious out of the can, I now have a certified disaster on my hands, and how are they going to mix with this beef stuff??" But that doesn't stop me from pushing through. I take out the steak and dice into little pieces, chop up the onion and stir both into my tomato beef concoction.

Have you ever read the book "Georges Marvelous Medicine" By Roald Dahl? That pretty much sums up what is going on in my kitchen right now except these are all edible things.

I have come to the conclusion that what I'm making can be called 'soup'. I'll even get cocky and decide it can be more specifically called 'Tomato Soup'. In goes a clove of crushed garlic, a dash of salt, and a pinch of pepper. A not so foul, and dare I say it, pleasing aroma begins to rise from the bubbling pot. I dip in a hesitant finger for a taste and am alarmed by the result. This stuff is delicious! All the herbs and spices that the beef roast had been cooked in all those many months again proved to be the perfect flavoring and all I had to do was add a little bit of salt and pepper! Although super yummy the pot still looked a little empty so in went 1/2 a can of corn and two potatoes copped up into tiny cubes. As it simmered it filled the kitchen with the wonderful aroma of success!

And then I did the only thing a twenty something city girl who just completely made up her own soup out of nothing would do. I called my mother to tell her all about it.

xx Sara

When nothing goes right - just keep going

I am not thrilled when I realize that I did not pack socks in my gym bag. Of course I remind myself that I packed my bag on a Wednesday night, expecting to be snowed in at the office overnight on Thursday and I probably wasn't thinking straight. I remind myself that forgetting socks isn't as bad as forgetting a sports bra. I can live with going sock-less, I refuse to get one of my good bras sweaty. After a week off from running (thank you mother nature) I am not allowing myself any excuses.

I am less than excited when I realize my workout IPod nano is not in my gym bag like I thought it was. I now have to walk back through the commons to get upstairs to my desk and grab my IPod classic as a back up. This is not too terrible though because at least I am not yet in my gym clothes. You see our wholesale accounts are in the Pink Palace this week buying the Fall 2010 line, and they are often here well pas 5 o'clock eating dinner and writing orders. When I get upstairs I am happy to see I do have my nano after all. Score! I grab it, and my green ear buds and head back downstairs. Past the CEO, and all the important people all dressed up. I am in jeans a white teeshirt and gold flats, and I am jogging towards the gym.

I quickly change, and braid back the front part of my hair. You know, the short pieces that used to be bangs, never got maintained and are now too long but still fall out of my pony tail when I run. I head into the gym excited to begin my warm up. Disclaimer - my warm up is not a far shot from most people's actual workout.

I press the center button of my IPod only to have it mockingly flash the low battery sign at me. This workout just isn't destined to go well is it? At least I remembered my inhaler. That would have been the end all for me. So I walk over to the stereo and turn on Q102. It's not so bad because at least they play half the songs on my workout playlist. I crank the volume knob to a loud but tolerable level. There are, after all, very important people dining just on the other side of the door.

I start my warm up, which doesn't have a set routine but serves to get my heart pumping, my muscles warmed up, and my arms and abs to wake up. I grab 5lb weights and start. Lunges. Squats with a leg lift. Side leg lifts with an arm row. 40 crunches. 10 side crunches with a simultaneous leg lift. Hip raises (for my hamstrings) and something that looks much like a dog peeing on a fire hydrant (again for my hamstrings). See, I told you - much like a full workout to some.

I finally bite the bullet and jump on the treadmill. This is supposed to be an easy six. But easy six miles on a treadmill is an oxymoron. there is nothing easy about running on a stationary belt like a hamster. I get through one mile. Not too bad. no pain yet.

I am halfway through my second mile when R walks in. 'ANOTHER PERSON!!' I scream in my head. I am so often the only one in the gym that just having someone else there makes me feel like I can push a little harder. However it is then that my mind starts wandering to my plan for the rest of the week. I have a half marathon coming up in a month and a half! So then I calculate this crazy plan in my head. What if I run three miles today, three on Wednesday and Thursday and *gasp* run an 8 mile long run on Saturday! It's not like I have any plans (other than waiting for the cable guy... yipeee!) and Boyfriend was just giving me a hard time for not yet wearing my running tights running. Just for the record I have worn them snowboarding. Twice. So it's settled. I will only run three miles today. This may be the best news I have given myself all day - considering I can now feel the build up of blisters on the inside arcs of my feet. Do you think that stops me? no of course not. I crank up the speed every quarter mile for the last mile, finishing with a quarter mile cool down. By the time I get to the end and start walking i can practically SEE the blisters through my sneakers. But I keep going.

Things aren't always going to work out, but when things aren't going right, just keep on going. Sooner or later something good is bound to happen.

xx Sara

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