tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11454889295365906512024-03-13T10:27:55.008-07:00Chubby Mommy Running ClubWelcome to Middle Aged Angst, personified. I'm a 43 year old mommy who works in the tech industry, and runs. Sometimes. My mantra? "Try, not cry!"juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.comBlogger305125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-13657503863927001022010-04-26T07:38:00.001-07:002010-04-26T11:03:56.960-07:00Running in the Rainforest<div>My husband got a great job making Facebook games at <a href="http://www.playdom.com/about.php">Playdom </a>. So we're leaving the Sage Brush and Juniper of Central Oregon's High Desert and moving back home to the ultra-fertile Willamette Valley and Eugene, Oregon.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eugene is home to Nike, thousands of hippies who show up for the <a href="http://www.oregoncountryfair.org/">Oregon Country Fair,</a> the late, great<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ken_Kesey"> Ken Kesey</a> and the<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Merry_Pranksters"> Merry Pranksters,</a> and more giant moss-covered oak trees and ferns than you can shake a stick at.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcU7lT94a1L9S7Zx9carDJRFNLO-rGauFNSdRS9h1v0frvfeQ_XNNLW0Vm9teUS0kYfbXmtOQlj36LvhKKHYvBV6mF_GsykCKK48uZSdaG8BNmEHWg4klo_USogG4bZrdk4Yx9gQrc8nbM/s1600/julie+and+mossy+tree.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcU7lT94a1L9S7Zx9carDJRFNLO-rGauFNSdRS9h1v0frvfeQ_XNNLW0Vm9teUS0kYfbXmtOQlj36LvhKKHYvBV6mF_GsykCKK48uZSdaG8BNmEHWg4klo_USogG4bZrdk4Yx9gQrc8nbM/s320/julie+and+mossy+tree.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464456846635353730" /></a>As a 5th generation Oregonian with roots in the valley, I do feel a certain happiness well up inside me when I smell the rain forest of my youth. It's a Pavlovian reaction, I think. I can't help it.<div><br /></div><div>The earthy smell reminds me of camping and fishing along the McKenzie River as a kid, picnics in the woods and searching for fairies at <a href="http://www.friendsofhendrickspark.org/park_history.htm">Hendrick's Park</a> with my kids when they were little, and running on <a href="http://www.travellanecounty.org/steve-prefontaine/">Pre's Trail,</a> one of the best running trails in the Northwest.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0CZ1nony2q6Xbus7wgzNwtyOrTYBq3xiQfet_Nv2MDZxtsDzPmZhqGXRvJCKWTKU2ny_brlm7kde8efnz_rDeGNX31dzHVEqmxXnAm8uJyl4CKswRJvv7G7FlnUQp_TsrIyeRz_miL5N/s1600/road+with+white+fence.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl0CZ1nony2q6Xbus7wgzNwtyOrTYBq3xiQfet_Nv2MDZxtsDzPmZhqGXRvJCKWTKU2ny_brlm7kde8efnz_rDeGNX31dzHVEqmxXnAm8uJyl4CKswRJvv7G7FlnUQp_TsrIyeRz_miL5N/s320/road+with+white+fence.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464456670644609890" /></a>We're looking for a place to live, so I packed the kids up and left Bend on Friday night and drove to the grandparent's house in the McKenzie Valley, about 30 minutes from home. I got up Saturday morning and took myself out for a run along Deerhorn Road.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFHiJli0ue4zRxpxKESVxvp9r6w9A7xrjyjNeCgdILOz56jAZmTHQOsTwP4oX7KU9PoPWTPUCLnl3xUnxDuO81u6gQUUghxZl7FtxbP7ma-ZmnzJiUrx6DGmnpOsetVnZlGS3Hd3lJq6wV/s1600/mossy+trees+%232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFHiJli0ue4zRxpxKESVxvp9r6w9A7xrjyjNeCgdILOz56jAZmTHQOsTwP4oX7KU9PoPWTPUCLnl3xUnxDuO81u6gQUUghxZl7FtxbP7ma-ZmnzJiUrx6DGmnpOsetVnZlGS3Hd3lJq6wV/s320/mossy+trees+%232.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464456418838653218" /></a>After months of looking at winter snow on the gray-brown rocks of Bend, my eyes had to adjust to the new emerald green palette of the valley.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSKeI1_dhnE7c0iMBJTt-QwYC5So0r84Vb9fFJTbF6LzwXw6hGmLGfSStK9mDG6YepFg3_sdRmOmR2CydFLntqSHkfMySSqFDx37Q1KCTDkv6vV_S5-Yl2Ed48ER4jsC-RhSTjjKmhoi6/s1600/big+tree+and+mailbox.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYSKeI1_dhnE7c0iMBJTt-QwYC5So0r84Vb9fFJTbF6LzwXw6hGmLGfSStK9mDG6YepFg3_sdRmOmR2CydFLntqSHkfMySSqFDx37Q1KCTDkv6vV_S5-Yl2Ed48ER4jsC-RhSTjjKmhoi6/s320/big+tree+and+mailbox.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5464455794698846210" /></a> It was easy to talk myself into 4.5 miles since I was rewarded with a spectacular tree at every bend in the road. The running was easier, too, since I've been at a higher altitude for so long. I wasn't expecting the difference, and my lungs were as surprised as I was. </div><div><br /></div><div>I wonder how long it will take before these trees and colors become ho-hum again, as part of my every day landscape. Never, I hope.</div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-80740438520259622162010-04-23T07:17:00.000-07:002010-04-23T07:28:59.724-07:00Play Games with your Feet!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegXmEMt9IulmpbtJKJ7qSnDN_PeSzjleC0ia5YrYMy8wKLPvYpa7ddm7e5jzHYiRJN9LR57S5mr5d24cZpI5NCp7VkcPzRxPkHRidPMLn5roSS22euyRdStfD0olVFRrR8OzjANvRflxI/s1600/footgaming+at+work.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 216px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiegXmEMt9IulmpbtJKJ7qSnDN_PeSzjleC0ia5YrYMy8wKLPvYpa7ddm7e5jzHYiRJN9LR57S5mr5d24cZpI5NCp7VkcPzRxPkHRidPMLn5roSS22euyRdStfD0olVFRrR8OzjANvRflxI/s400/footgaming+at+work.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463339556572743714" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 72px; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;">And now, a word from two of my delightful sponsors:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#333333;"> The FootZone and FootGaming - it's all about the feet here at Chubby Mommy Running Club!</span></span></i></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(68, 68, 68); line-height: 23px; font-family:Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif;font-size:14px;"><h2 style="text-align: left;padding-top: 10px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; font-weight: normal; font-size: 2em; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal; "><br /></h2><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: center; "><a href="http://www.footzonebend.com/" style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-decoration: underline; "><img class="aligncenter" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19e3jtcvVN-XXZnI1awXEa_ocBE5dxynMRAhzswvBDNBoow422w2m9Z_pugiRAZPbWHHsX_jX3q4XFFBOegL_yuuaKi3M6E4_DHVN7Biles5cxqciZacgBoPr0QtZvGSIHW5D9iL42imV/s220/foot+zone+logo.jpg" alt="The FootZone" width="220" height="65" style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; display: block; " /></a><br />Good people, good stuff.</p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: left; ">We are thrilled to have <a href="http://www.footzonebend.com/" style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); text-decoration: underline; ">Bend’s FootZone </a>as the host site for our May 19 media event. If you know of anyone in the media who would like first scoop on all the great FootGaming Bejeweled news, <a href="http://footgamingbj.wordpress.com/2010/04/23/june-12-fun-increases/">send them to this blog!</a> As runners flock to FootZone to collect their race bags and schwag, they can stop by next door at the Liberty Building for Footgaming fun.</p><p style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; text-align: left; ">Every step they take while playing the incredible <a href="http://www.popcap.com/games/bejeweledtwist" style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(28, 155, 220); text-decoration: underline; ">Bejeweled Twist </a>will count as one vote for a finalist ExerLearning school. Local school need the more than<a href="http://footgamingbj.wordpress.com/grants-for-schools/" style="padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color: rgb(28, 155, 220); text-decoration: underline; ">$5000 in grant awards </a>for fitness and technology. We are extending the grant deadline to May 15 – so share the grant link with a local teacher.</p></span>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-81783072388590693262010-04-22T09:56:00.000-07:002010-04-22T11:00:54.724-07:00"I'll Take 'Things I'm Good At' for 200, Alex"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbcFBfRRmrfvP-k3nA45uXSJ9Pk39it9lwIHCbkB8DeyF-doeDObxkkXLfvb-rH194YsFddasvucrOaUwZWd-AKt4qW5DVrZduW1c3KGvSoAW4V6ABudhxm2Kv3v2xpOo80i8ny2cIqHb/s1600/list+of+mom%27s+good+things.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYbcFBfRRmrfvP-k3nA45uXSJ9Pk39it9lwIHCbkB8DeyF-doeDObxkkXLfvb-rH194YsFddasvucrOaUwZWd-AKt4qW5DVrZduW1c3KGvSoAW4V6ABudhxm2Kv3v2xpOo80i8ny2cIqHb/s320/list+of+mom%27s+good+things.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5463021882226461410" /></a><br />I haven't watched Jeopardy in a while, but I am a list maker, and a list giver. My kids are used to lists. Alex Trebek would not phase them.<div><br /></div><div>The other night, as I was frantically working through my list before bed on my computer at the dining room table, the children complained - OK, whined - about needing some attention (they're old enough to just say, hey, give me some attention!) </div><div><br /></div><div>The 16 year old said I needed to put "hang out with children" on my list. So I did.</div><div><br /></div><div>I sat on the couch with them and we played that game where I tell them all the things they're good at, and all the things I like about them. It's a favorite game of theirs. Who wouldn't love this game?</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I wanted a turn, so this is their list of things I'm good at: </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Things Mom is good at:</b></div><div><ol><li>You're good at giving hugs - you're warm.</li><li>Domesticated animals love you.</li><li>You're good at making clubs, like your Try Not Cry Club on Chubby Mommy Running Club.</li><li>You're good at listening.</li><li>You're good at teaching us good habits (Huh. Time to teach dish-doing and floor mopping?)</li><li>You're good at creative ideas and making things grow, like how you made up movies and stuff for Francine.</li><li>You're a good wife because you're mature enough to handle Dad and his jobs and negotiating things for his work.</li><li>You're good at telling Dad what to do and trading things for kisses.</li><li>You're good at bringing peace to the family.</li></ol><div>I'm also good a raising nice kids, apparently, because these are the nicest things I've ever heard.</div><div><br /></div><div>What's on your list?</div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-31929318283746474072010-04-20T06:48:00.000-07:002010-04-20T08:13:48.309-07:00Chubby Mommy Running Club at the Beach<div><br /></div><div>This is me and my friend Sissy. She just got a beach house. I liked her before she got the beach house, but now I'll love her forever. </div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcPie34Pe4VrXXXydfpy2EOLdgNXrraKL1ehYSLml6qsFUwD4P3kZQcjBHZTdg7jUGa63WnjNFQdISIXkHGD9X4eApWVPxRFzWbaQssBjufCgx5AIFqRgudejwqZgwEuWd28QjBXgQHww/s1600/julie+and+sissy+close+up.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcPie34Pe4VrXXXydfpy2EOLdgNXrraKL1ehYSLml6qsFUwD4P3kZQcjBHZTdg7jUGa63WnjNFQdISIXkHGD9X4eApWVPxRFzWbaQssBjufCgx5AIFqRgudejwqZgwEuWd28QjBXgQHww/s320/julie+and+sissy+close+up.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462225245285408018" /></a>Sissy has many friends who love her unconditionally. I've been on a couple of fun trips with this group in the past, including a jaunt to Cindy's Lake House last summer, which convinced me that everyone needs a house with a location noun in front of it, or at least a friend or two with extra houses.<div><br /></div><div>What I didn't realize before we got to the beach, was how many of these lovely women are runners. Some of them run 3 miles at a leisurely pace, like me, and some of them are regular 10K racers. Some of them, like Sissy, do not run, but enjoy a nice walk and good conversation just the same.<br /><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJkThWpXyCUB7VeN1FxNJkVgVai4I1aGpItv0IweCfZGHrZZb9EsiJx90y0ZcB5sgkL0xYDvaQRmIwprsIkjQ0TGjqKEBj1xmSQ1blmpSsSwYVu00ZeqMVBzkIAnsKoj6BxbQZ2CzOkOV2/s1600/cowgirls+pretned+to+run+in+line.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJkThWpXyCUB7VeN1FxNJkVgVai4I1aGpItv0IweCfZGHrZZb9EsiJx90y0ZcB5sgkL0xYDvaQRmIwprsIkjQ0TGjqKEBj1xmSQ1blmpSsSwYVu00ZeqMVBzkIAnsKoj6BxbQZ2CzOkOV2/s320/cowgirls+pretned+to+run+in+line.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462224489058769650" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Some of them did cartwheels with me. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qmNDO7XW3CNfcMc3lfgqmjIKYGE5GjHYmcx8j_CwyJhPp8X51UscufAbeRnYKk6FIiQGf0mL8B-QVyxdctyazkWE0z0xP6ecDCC6R5dDsMk0zmDkqZmcmZ66YD9ZzCa-Xar0R0hYRF7G/s1600/alisa+julie+cartwheel+hands+down.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qmNDO7XW3CNfcMc3lfgqmjIKYGE5GjHYmcx8j_CwyJhPp8X51UscufAbeRnYKk6FIiQGf0mL8B-QVyxdctyazkWE0z0xP6ecDCC6R5dDsMk0zmDkqZmcmZ66YD9ZzCa-Xar0R0hYRF7G/s320/alisa+julie+cartwheel+hands+down.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462224264694300482" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">All of them were good sports.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheby1nyqgD6J-K34LxuAODaiCzdrCnuyuhbovFJEFfnUwobJFjyDEHDiqfSFAvgMhRFUryhv7jRKG-GfvbEraeJ_MOpPn_m9v31Qy6eh_AiARQqjuEivHUaMlbwpsD_iHS9KmCIqO3PpzR/s1600/cowgirl+cartwheels.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheby1nyqgD6J-K34LxuAODaiCzdrCnuyuhbovFJEFfnUwobJFjyDEHDiqfSFAvgMhRFUryhv7jRKG-GfvbEraeJ_MOpPn_m9v31Qy6eh_AiARQqjuEivHUaMlbwpsD_iHS9KmCIqO3PpzR/s320/cowgirl+cartwheels.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462223991647577602" /></a><div><br /></div><div>The best part about running on the beach with friends is the actual running on the beach. With friends. </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6TdNMor9aBmMsbm9M1-MIPMDJYWbD09f9J2KJFuF-drRuyCMyltZev9kamp8kWlkyPfNWXnErFQ3F7_IWiFXvsh61j0wUE2P2HFj6ep4THRVtDJSrqOBlx2Jmk41k33_ce91uL6afQcGR/s1600/cindy+alisa+nancy+running.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6TdNMor9aBmMsbm9M1-MIPMDJYWbD09f9J2KJFuF-drRuyCMyltZev9kamp8kWlkyPfNWXnErFQ3F7_IWiFXvsh61j0wUE2P2HFj6ep4THRVtDJSrqOBlx2Jmk41k33_ce91uL6afQcGR/s320/cindy+alisa+nancy+running.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462218261935300642" /></a><br /></div><div>Plus, when you're running on the beach there's always a valid excuse to stop running when you spot a beautiful rock in the sand. I stopped a lot. As usual.<br /><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6YisDWoStQTyL0ajahp35D4Vy9fg0Jp58dnvi1BTHbcrud1OL3QHmonK8XpNEP4Z_PSVCqiS3b3-agmQfK_JHSjXCW4lKpMujKxx7_GUi0QgNgY5GsvoPYunezLsKuyWhaX6S8BN7NPm/s1600/hands+with+rocks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd6YisDWoStQTyL0ajahp35D4Vy9fg0Jp58dnvi1BTHbcrud1OL3QHmonK8XpNEP4Z_PSVCqiS3b3-agmQfK_JHSjXCW4lKpMujKxx7_GUi0QgNgY5GsvoPYunezLsKuyWhaX6S8BN7NPm/s320/hands+with+rocks.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462217729722688786" /></a><br /><div>The other great thing about running on the beach with friends is you earn a good excuse to enjoy a drink with a view. Also, the ocean air burns more calories, I heard. So you get to have an extra drink, if you want one.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17SY0hhPWSH2G8_MTKGDvGQEkp8ZrEYHc6wlnvEDdoT-Jbmx3gSg2vbtsvwyTBhfM1BGvqNoEGQaGSJuJaO9LtkN1vXfKCJLUCvmngANsZhLyxR7MwmG_gmHCANvxKqvFhQ7dVUaMSXDT/s1600/martini+in+beach+house.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17SY0hhPWSH2G8_MTKGDvGQEkp8ZrEYHc6wlnvEDdoT-Jbmx3gSg2vbtsvwyTBhfM1BGvqNoEGQaGSJuJaO9LtkN1vXfKCJLUCvmngANsZhLyxR7MwmG_gmHCANvxKqvFhQ7dVUaMSXDT/s320/martini+in+beach+house.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462217237531455618" /></a><br /><div>Plus, when you run with a group, you feel like you're in a real club, even though you just made up the name Chubby Mommy Running Club on a whim, but everyone else thinks it's a real club and they want to join. </div><div><br /></div><div>So if you work it right, you can turn this whole thing into a real club, where all Chubby and Not so Chubby mommies all over the world can meet in real life for their own real life running clubs and running weekends, and then you can write off the entire trip as a business expense, which is always an added bonus.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUynIfAVualrqc6N-bjX_6AwhjpvR8Sdg7IKGMXgipYt0zHFyfTCk4VLQulcJa2oxWQAZoJcgeuln2O_50Dxba70wEXCJpMkGYWiB5yt6RDBcvdmBr6a1f4HbiloNo5oSe65Sb3tc3n1Bp/s1600/cowgirls+in+front+of+ocean+julie.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUynIfAVualrqc6N-bjX_6AwhjpvR8Sdg7IKGMXgipYt0zHFyfTCk4VLQulcJa2oxWQAZoJcgeuln2O_50Dxba70wEXCJpMkGYWiB5yt6RDBcvdmBr6a1f4HbiloNo5oSe65Sb3tc3n1Bp/s320/cowgirls+in+front+of+ocean+julie.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462216800708085074" /></a>But mostly? Waking up to blue sky and friendly smiles on the Oregon Coast is priceless.<br /><div><br /></div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-49332083236797998102010-04-18T15:12:00.000-07:002010-04-18T15:21:35.685-07:00@juliejulie at the Beach!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_M19N4d2emGbWMOUgjCQMvZd8dGVdnzYAEZLXxEBFQ9L3lcRxQVFJTkp2LF6O697dXbA0ASgEwQFwsio9GTdhyTLn9gk7KTzKNmsAVj22zRVpMEz1dzGGtOo3mm64KuEAZ3RvoEESj6cc/s1600/julie+in+front+of+ocean.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_M19N4d2emGbWMOUgjCQMvZd8dGVdnzYAEZLXxEBFQ9L3lcRxQVFJTkp2LF6O697dXbA0ASgEwQFwsio9GTdhyTLn9gk7KTzKNmsAVj22zRVpMEz1dzGGtOo3mm64KuEAZ3RvoEESj6cc/s400/julie+in+front+of+ocean.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461605026709958178" /></a>I'm at the beach, in Waldport, Oregon with my friends. Happy happy, joy, joy. More about the running tomorrow.juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-61634533358563896472010-04-15T12:54:00.000-07:002010-04-15T13:01:13.648-07:00"Let Mom Run in Peace, if Possible"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQ0ojO6at55Osfs-TuZXFU8ofBXRwbbNEfr_4vvmmkiZXAFKf3D-Ghb03HfbQG2G7keZHmhIBXaCD-oE3esO5Qmv8ycM9bJ6ZWn11ZBmjIBb2QDiAfmVA_XQ0kZgge9VjtLaOvK4Kee4Y/s1600/mom+went+running+sign.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqQ0ojO6at55Osfs-TuZXFU8ofBXRwbbNEfr_4vvmmkiZXAFKf3D-Ghb03HfbQG2G7keZHmhIBXaCD-oE3esO5Qmv8ycM9bJ6ZWn11ZBmjIBb2QDiAfmVA_XQ0kZgge9VjtLaOvK4Kee4Y/s400/mom+went+running+sign.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460456113922602546" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Just so there's no confusion.</div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-13305182219104256882010-04-14T14:55:00.000-07:002010-04-14T15:14:40.993-07:00Running With BabiesThese are not my babies. I don't even know them. I met these babies at The <a href="http://www.footzonebend.com/">FootZone</a> in Bend last week. They were there with their mother, I think. They went on our fun run with us, and they were much faster than me.<div><br /></div><div>I remember running with babies. I have 3 kids, all 3 years apart (because I'm a good planner...) so I had a baby and a toddler in a double jog stroller like this for years. I remember that it was heavy and hard to push up hills. But hey, it got us out of the house.</div><div><br /></div><div>Kudos to the babies, and the mommy who gave them cool sunglasses, and a free ride.</div><div><br /></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwjH-iT0fGuw-dbZzZK3S6lK8m09xLAJkR8bgzl-NyycUyvR7y2BDR7wwv3yg6Q6MFOgJohAjdB9NxGLztfZw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-82587972684831738752010-04-13T13:59:00.000-07:002010-04-15T21:04:29.366-07:00Get Into the Groove...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj249SL_kHnCEMvVR_f8UXGgu7RyvYD33DglVy_amKCAkgNorw-Rrdukqm3FnWlmdlXpMrKQdwuZag91lMxan_Z1Tyid5lVjPuhxwbrVfWLmhzt0vabUiMi0QUEHc3U64SOyQRvMFlS9DWA/s1600/julie+ipod+saturated.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 237px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj249SL_kHnCEMvVR_f8UXGgu7RyvYD33DglVy_amKCAkgNorw-Rrdukqm3FnWlmdlXpMrKQdwuZag91lMxan_Z1Tyid5lVjPuhxwbrVfWLmhzt0vabUiMi0QUEHc3U64SOyQRvMFlS9DWA/s320/julie+ipod+saturated.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459743888242710242" /></a>Some days I feel like a break-dancer. Things move fast, I'm zipping around in circles and it feels like my head is spinning. <div><br /></div><div>Except if I actually try to spin around on my head while kicking my legs up in the air to get the momentum going, I'd break something. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like a lamp, or a vase. Or my neck. <div><br /></div><div>Today my life felt like a big long break dance in my mind. I needed to clear out the spin, or tomorrow would feel the same way.</div><div><br /></div><div>I knew I needed to go for a run, but I didn't want to. I wanted to crawl back into bed and stare at the ceiling. Then take a long hot shower and talk to myself as the water ran over my head so I can work out all the spinning puzzle pieces, and make them fit back into the smooth, easy picture I want.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I'm smart. I know staring at ceilings and talking to myself only works for so long. Eventually, I have to let nature take it's course and force my body to move around and let some endorphins out of their hiding places. They fight the stress chemicals. </div><div><br /></div><div>Running is my version of releasing the hounds.</div><div><br /></div><div>So today I tricked myself into running. I reminded myself I have some good songs on my iPod Shuffle, and it was actually charged up and ready to go. I also said I could just run for a bit, and walk the rest of the way if I wanted. </div><div><br /></div><div>I believed myself (why wouldn't I?) put n my headphones, turned the music up, and took off.</div><div><br /></div><div>Mick Jagger, Beyonce, and Gwen Stefani got me going, and the Indigo Girls, Kate Bush and Madonna kept me pounding the pavement. I skipped Michael Jackson, I wasn't in the mood for him today. </div><div><br /></div><div>It worked. I ran about 3.5 miles. I feel better and my brain is clear. I'll have to think of another trick tomorrow.</div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-67713858376194872912010-04-10T14:45:00.000-07:002010-04-10T20:03:49.287-07:00Chunking It Up with "Run Like a Mother's" Sarah Bowen Shea<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0ppJbxelFaB1J9Fh21XKAsuD281E7rh1-MWhQgQFyC73s-pqmFUDCDxSUjtkx7vhXVTpQAZcegR1iiEQ2X5SJ16AJfdUSyXzg6TYFCqb8D6rbDY1PB32oO7FrgfsrSJtPi-PVdjZKTvz/s1600/sarah+tea+at+Townsends.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0ppJbxelFaB1J9Fh21XKAsuD281E7rh1-MWhQgQFyC73s-pqmFUDCDxSUjtkx7vhXVTpQAZcegR1iiEQ2X5SJ16AJfdUSyXzg6TYFCqb8D6rbDY1PB32oO7FrgfsrSJtPi-PVdjZKTvz/s320/sarah+tea+at+Townsends.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458639818231357570" /></a><div>Last week I had tea with Sarah Bowen Shea, one of the authors of the fabulous <a href="http://runlikeamotherbook.com/">"Run Like a Mother" </a>blog and book. She stopped in Bend on her book tour at The FootZone.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sarah's a full time freelance writer and contributing editor for Runner's World and Shape magazines. She also writes for Self, the New York Times and others. </div><div><br /></div><div>She's also the mom of an 8 year old and 5 year old twins. And she also runs marathons. Lots and lots of marathons. </div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and she also wrote this book with her friend Dimity McDowell, another writer/runner. Oh, and also? She is traveling around the country promoting the book and running little 5K "Fun Runs" in each city with her fans, while also training for the<a href="http://www.bsim.org/site3.aspx"> Big Sur Marathon</a>.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivIJjcr6ReK70ECIhUwCRFvu1HFsPHlBppWc39R9fhh7feChLr1DPL25ppdNuvNrRgDpoETOMmeeDukloDrreVhU3F4g4cm8-Ohr1Z_sJ7k7FTx7tnImuyKGR-tJFffPk-1h4txqwg98m-/s1600/DSCN7624.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivIJjcr6ReK70ECIhUwCRFvu1HFsPHlBppWc39R9fhh7feChLr1DPL25ppdNuvNrRgDpoETOMmeeDukloDrreVhU3F4g4cm8-Ohr1Z_sJ7k7FTx7tnImuyKGR-tJFffPk-1h4txqwg98m-/s320/DSCN7624.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458638932427718226" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">There are so many "alsos" in Sarah's life that I almost had to take a nap during tea, just from taking so many notes. Next time I talk to her, I'm bringing an audio recorder and I'm ordering coffee. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here's a typical Saturday for Sarah, who admits she'd like to sleep more:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><ol><li>Up at 5:45 a.m. to run 22 miles, which took her 3.5 hours (a marathon training run, she doesn't do this every day, she assures me!)</li><li>Breakfast and entertain family/guests visiting from out of town.</li><li>Quick shower (seriously, I'd need a massage and hot tub at this point!)</li><li>Take oldest kid to soccer game.</li><li>Take twins to a play.</li><li>Take oldest daughter to church event.</li><li>Prepare Easter baskets for all three kids, working from the trunk of her car, outside in the rain, so they wouldn't see.</li><li>Dinner for family and guests.</li><li>(Skipped a scheduled ladies wine night with friends. Bummer, but really...)</li><li>Collapse into bed.</li><li>The next day was Easter, a busy day at their house with friends and family.</li></ol><div>Work days are even trickier for Sarah, because she's often on tight deadlines for all the publications. She reminds me that her running schedule would not be possible without the buy-in from her husband, who helps her juggle all of this.</div><div><br /></div><div>How does she keep up the pace day in and day out? I asked.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I just gotta chunk it up," she says. "I think about things in chunks of time. When I'm running 22 miles, I think in terms of the first 8 miles, the second 8 miles, then the last 6 miles. I can't worry about those first 16 miles during the last 6 miles. I don't have fresh legs during that last chunk, so I have to have a fresh mind. I do this for work, too. I have to focus on the task at hand, for that chunk of time, not worry about the before or the after."</div><div><br /></div><div>I like Sarah's "Chunk it Up" method of time management. I should start using it. I need to stop thinking about Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream every time I hear the word Chunk, though. Or I could eat the ice cream and just start running marathons on Saturdays. Right?</div><div><br /></div><div>I also like Sarah, and I'm hoping I can get more chunks of her time in the future. She's smart, fun, and inspiring. I want to be more like her when I grow up. I'm not sure about that whole 22 miles at 5:45 a.m. on a Saturday thing though, Chunk or no Chunk.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Here are a few pictures from Sarah's FootZone tour stop in Bend, Oregon, for your viewing pleasure. There are more on their<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Run-Like-a-Mother-The-Book/317268647037"> Facebook Fan Page</a>, and if Sarah or Dimity came to your town, I'm sure we'd all love to see your pictures, so post 'em!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKI2fXrAJfs_8FOJ7gIUz4cRxFCRCK7_eRfj4BFQ8Pqfco6plnJ69gDYTB5FHh6D71ELCjDFmei_NWpp9KfyF6vuENBk53Bth96VpjKUI9JkeIXaYTxoNK9lEK_qDz78whyMr5qUxLZvAZ/s1600/outside+footzone+%232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKI2fXrAJfs_8FOJ7gIUz4cRxFCRCK7_eRfj4BFQ8Pqfco6plnJ69gDYTB5FHh6D71ELCjDFmei_NWpp9KfyF6vuENBk53Bth96VpjKUI9JkeIXaYTxoNK9lEK_qDz78whyMr5qUxLZvAZ/s320/outside+footzone+%232.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458631337658979970" /></a>After a quick social mingle in the store where I met some adorable babies in strollers, and their mothers, we went outside for a picture before we started our fun run. </div><div><br /></div><div>The sun was out, we were a relaxed group of runners, clumping together at first, then settling into comfortable pace where everyone went at their own speeds and found others who matched their pace.</div><div><br /><div>For the record, I came in last place. It didn't bother me, and it was fun, because I ran with a friend and we chatted the whole time, which is one of my specialties. Also, trying to be first in a race stresses me out, so I let Sarah win. </div><div><br /></div><div>The fact that Sarah often runs 18 miles for her marathon training runs at an average pace of 9 minutes and 49 seconds (or something) and I usually run 3 miles at an average of 11-12 minutes, really has nothing to do with it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvya11CIuEiOnCvGnb8_pSpVjTQBU8MmACN6Vk5HoVacQe_t22yh7Q1uZGwV0vjLo7Elf7rjTQGeENBINIXQM1HlU_yJGCcz7SbW2Q8ZyZ_bn6HVFFer0sBcdQYvSS2I2yw0PUXw4rveS0/s1600/sarah+reading+at+Footzone.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvya11CIuEiOnCvGnb8_pSpVjTQBU8MmACN6Vk5HoVacQe_t22yh7Q1uZGwV0vjLo7Elf7rjTQGeENBINIXQM1HlU_yJGCcz7SbW2Q8ZyZ_bn6HVFFer0sBcdQYvSS2I2yw0PUXw4rveS0/s320/sarah+reading+at+Footzone.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458629352761719826" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Later, after a leisurely day of work for me, an easy dinner and a long shower, I went back to the <a href="http://www.footzonebend.com/">FootZone </a>(and their famous "Wall of Shoes") and listened to Sarah read excerpts from Run Like A Mother. </div><div><br /></div><div>My favorite chapter Sarah read from was about the fine art of discreet peeing during long training runs (behind bushes, parked cars, anywhere, really) and I truly appreciated the helpful hint about how convenient those <a href="http://runlikeamotherbook.com/about/">fun little running skirts</a> are for this little problem. I'd never thought of them as easy access potty skirts. I wondered why people thought they were such a good idea. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here's the truth about Sarah's book: I have a confession to make. I got so busy talking after the book signing (big surprise, I know) that I totally forgot to buy a book, and now I have to go get one so I can have an excuse to spend a whole Chunk of time reading it.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then, I'll do a book review!</div></div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-83389512637015656552010-04-09T08:28:00.000-07:002010-04-09T09:53:58.348-07:00"I Made You Jump and Down!"I went to Washington DC a couple of weeks ago, after my trip to the <a href="http://fitbloggin.com/">FitBloggin Conference.</a> I was only there for a day, but managed to meet some old friends and some new friends. I'm lucky that way.<div><br /><div>It was a chilly Tuesday morning in DC, and I was standing in front of the White House when I called my Twitter friend <a href="http://twitter.com/newmediajim">@NewMediaJim</a>. I'd never met Jim, but I talk to him on Twitter which seems like real life, sometimes.<div><br /></div><div>Jim's a very busy man, over at <a href="http://vergenewmedia.com/">Verge New Media</a> and I wasn't sure if I'd get to meet him on this trip or not, so I didn't want to get my hopes up. It turns out, he was just down the street in front of a Starbucks when I called, and through modern technology and excessive arm waving, we found each other.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jim bought me some coffee and a hard boiled egg and we talked about Old Media and New Media and how everything changes and we have to change with it or we just end up stuck sitting around in the same old place wondering what to do next.</div><div><br /></div><div>I get the feeling Jim isn't stuck. His life moves even faster than mine (amazing, but true) which is why I had to jump up and down in front of the White House just to get his attention. But it was worth it, just to meet Jim. Plus, I got some extra cardio in to boot, right?</div><div><br /></div><div>Ah, the power of the internets...it's so great to meet other goof balls in real life. Makes me feel almost normal.</div><div><br /></div></div><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyfDehkH91OPe3v0mwxhupEnB5ncSDS9PT_Y5-haNQAR0QAQcRPwjBqM4u3C84V3jtM9cRRcMtgRXVXDrI-sA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-30955187840892773522010-04-07T14:56:00.000-07:002010-04-07T15:43:38.549-07:00Running with Inga the Wolf Dog: he loves me, I swear it<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOG8JJdfgA_C-Bqbl_8Fzs0GVDxn5BUlmS6nHWOyleYxoY7gN_H4DheT80SQ95BEozFkvOfGHou8xabKTQ8_PIjo4bC7oV2FrFb2-PkfsHB2iHH-8oQ4vN9JPw5vGGXTTm2JxP8c1s8PC/s1600/DSCN7613.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOG8JJdfgA_C-Bqbl_8Fzs0GVDxn5BUlmS6nHWOyleYxoY7gN_H4DheT80SQ95BEozFkvOfGHou8xabKTQ8_PIjo4bC7oV2FrFb2-PkfsHB2iHH-8oQ4vN9JPw5vGGXTTm2JxP8c1s8PC/s320/DSCN7613.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457522931131890258" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">I went running around the Deschutes River Trail in Bend today with Roxanne (not her real name) and her dog Inga (not his real name.) Roxanne runs faster than me, so I usually bring my camera. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Roxanne is a <a href="http://www.carolsternkopf.com/">professional photographer</a>, so it's easy to make her stop every half mile and take a picture of me, which allows me to catch my breath.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I love Inga the dog, but he's shy. Roxanne says he perked up when he saw me today which means he likes me, but I saw him perk up near a bush, and then I didn't feel so special. She said he loves bushes, too.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sometimes it takes a while for Inga to warm up to me, but eventually, if Roxanne allows it, he'll let me hold his leash.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwOG8JJdfgA_C-Bqbl_8Fzs0GVDxn5BUlmS6nHWOyleYxoY7gN_H4DheT80SQ95BEozFkvOfGHou8xabKTQ8_PIjo4bC7oV2FrFb2-PkfsHB2iHH-8oQ4vN9JPw5vGGXTTm2JxP8c1s8PC/s1600/DSCN7613.JPG"></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXDqJfuPvg8qVOHprdclteLQ70O42dnkYce8VTDOtCstAEFIhQ2mJz877LCa42BR2tW37oo3TeZEr3G6bOMDtJyabKiWgzlaC6xBACgXZ6q2qp3TJD6pXM556wXh9evoa7i5qRjfijq5EO/s1600/DSCN7612.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXDqJfuPvg8qVOHprdclteLQ70O42dnkYce8VTDOtCstAEFIhQ2mJz877LCa42BR2tW37oo3TeZEr3G6bOMDtJyabKiWgzlaC6xBACgXZ6q2qp3TJD6pXM556wXh9evoa7i5qRjfijq5EO/s320/DSCN7612.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457522338191052402" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">"I think you are stifling him," I said to Roxanne. "Clearly he needs a change of pace. He wants to run with me, obviously." She gave me his leash when he was busy watching a duck. I thought he might not notice.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXDqJfuPvg8qVOHprdclteLQ70O42dnkYce8VTDOtCstAEFIhQ2mJz877LCa42BR2tW37oo3TeZEr3G6bOMDtJyabKiWgzlaC6xBACgXZ6q2qp3TJD6pXM556wXh9evoa7i5qRjfijq5EO/s1600/DSCN7612.JPG"></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj03xI9xoD-ptLr-Q6n3CBOgHRcUReBy6-El24Qk16Efr9FkLkB4o2HRwxtVMb-JdzlTxuZyVVZ5d9cNp0xwgfpPxrTaabD-bmKtlEN3bHT9gMDLNG3WrjWfucmZR2C0gZsXGBPA-MDpWur/s1600/DSCN7604.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj03xI9xoD-ptLr-Q6n3CBOgHRcUReBy6-El24Qk16Efr9FkLkB4o2HRwxtVMb-JdzlTxuZyVVZ5d9cNp0xwgfpPxrTaabD-bmKtlEN3bHT9gMDLNG3WrjWfucmZR2C0gZsXGBPA-MDpWur/s320/DSCN7604.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457520883540618706" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Look, Roxanne," I said, "he's fine. No need to worry. Inga and I are friends now, see?"</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj03xI9xoD-ptLr-Q6n3CBOgHRcUReBy6-El24Qk16Efr9FkLkB4o2HRwxtVMb-JdzlTxuZyVVZ5d9cNp0xwgfpPxrTaabD-bmKtlEN3bHT9gMDLNG3WrjWfucmZR2C0gZsXGBPA-MDpWur/s1600/DSCN7604.JPG"></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2_MEeXX-ctvbqCAofMKaufYvdBM2nn9nuWZlgZQV5NgxpAVCUM4hGXY1E-JpD87xdiThc0CiEJM-lzhxX2sVw6Gwa2KgrkW4noB4-UDItJCQd1zWuFrv50_gqFG_RrP-mCQ3o5vU3R7t/s1600/DSCN7608.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2_MEeXX-ctvbqCAofMKaufYvdBM2nn9nuWZlgZQV5NgxpAVCUM4hGXY1E-JpD87xdiThc0CiEJM-lzhxX2sVw6Gwa2KgrkW4noB4-UDItJCQd1zWuFrv50_gqFG_RrP-mCQ3o5vU3R7t/s320/DSCN7608.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457520192717063330" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">"He is not embarrassed, Roxanne," I said. "Inga is thrilled to be with me. Thrilled! I've never seen him so happy. Can we run again tomorrow?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"Maybe," says Roxanne. "I'll call you after his therapy session. He may need a little quiet time tomorrow to regroup. Nothing personal. It's not you, it's him."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Dogs are so fickle.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-7154720658609074892010-04-06T16:23:00.000-07:002010-04-06T16:41:14.547-07:00@juliejulie. Mannequin. Vegas. U2.<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dz_Dj0wjEDp74mtQu8Q3ocCIsHJVBHRwEerqno624VIkgnJz-VMvAmxxSv6sTKK8o-Te-ibT97UgMSRhMVsaA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe> <div><br /></div><div>This doesn't have anything to do with being chubby, a mommy, or running. </div><div><br /></div><div>This is just me being weird, scoring some great tickets to U2 in Vegas, putting my mannequin on an airplane, and making my best friend come along for the ride. I wrote a story about the <a href="http://chubbymommyrunningclub.blogspot.com/2009/10/twist-pop-media-goes-to-vegas.html">Francine goes to Vegas</a> adventure a while ago, but there's just something about video...</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought you'd want to watch.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, if you strolled over here from <a href="http://thebloggess.com/">The Bloggess's blog</a>, this one's for you people. I figure you're used to weird stuff, and you're funny. And really, a handless mannequin from the 1960's isn't nearly as weird as a line of Christmas cards based on a taxiderm-ied boar's head. Right?</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for visiting Chubby Mommy Running Club, where you never know what I might come up with next, which is why you should keep coming back. </div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-21243558379505805092010-04-04T09:18:00.000-07:002010-04-04T09:31:39.580-07:00The Easter Bunny vs. Quaker Oats Guy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xxn8brMzsTv_1AKkZTY3PQBh6itAspuq4i8ev2f7zM0p21pp527x2VqBh9C_VOL7DzuPqlhcy6xcT-oHPrtTNbajkzvYnR2bp9Yz1KZ6cBtlBcNN1tWsN-e3ZLwKttouvEMZP-H8aKV4/s1600/oatmeal+vs+candy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xxn8brMzsTv_1AKkZTY3PQBh6itAspuq4i8ev2f7zM0p21pp527x2VqBh9C_VOL7DzuPqlhcy6xcT-oHPrtTNbajkzvYnR2bp9Yz1KZ6cBtlBcNN1tWsN-e3ZLwKttouvEMZP-H8aKV4/s320/oatmeal+vs+candy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456318766571870578" /></a><br />They are fighting for my very soul, I think. Who will win today? I need the Quaker Oats Guy to go all Ninja on my secret boyfriend, <a href="http://chubbymommyrunningclub.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-secret-boyfriend-mr-reeses-peanut.html">Mr. Reese's Peanut Butter Cup</a>. Do you think he can win? Will the cashews step up and help him? If the jelly beans side with Mr. Reese's, I could be in trouble. Stay tuned.juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-78955259476999572912010-04-03T12:27:00.000-07:002010-04-03T13:32:21.501-07:00The Long Run<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2UcolXjMh6HueqcdopAtHvVY2W0g29y8ruqfi8r10y6uxSMP3WIScvdeRiT-HY5LX60XyNQ88ORjpFVr-FFX6g9ho3hPqBjMTHKhKoM7Jyb29QT8uruAr6sDloyWEEX1-DbCuZKiAoPs/s1600/fitbloggin+shirt+river+run.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF2UcolXjMh6HueqcdopAtHvVY2W0g29y8ruqfi8r10y6uxSMP3WIScvdeRiT-HY5LX60XyNQ88ORjpFVr-FFX6g9ho3hPqBjMTHKhKoM7Jyb29QT8uruAr6sDloyWEEX1-DbCuZKiAoPs/s320/fitbloggin+shirt+river+run.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455997503191705954" /></a><br />A funny thing happened today while I was running with a friend I haven't seen in a while. I ran 7 miles. In a row. That's the longest distance I've run in many, many years.<div><br /></div><div>Sure, we walked a bit here and there on a few hills, and stopped for about 5 minutes to get some water, but the fact is, I ran 7 miles from start to finish. </div><div><br /></div><div>It was the talking that did it. We had so much to catch up on, so many stories to tell, that we just kept going. I've been quite busy lately, and more than a bit lax about my running routine (I went twice last week, 2-3 miles a pop), so I was surprised that my body allowed this distance.</div><div><br /></div><div>My legs and my lungs did start protesting at around 3 miles, like usual, but I was right in the middle of a good story about<a href="http://chubbymommyrunningclub.blogspot.com/2010/03/5k-in-baltimore-in-which-my-new-bff.html"> my recent adventures </a>at the <a href="http://fitbloggin.com/">FitBloggin Conference</a>, so I distracted my legs from themselves.</div><div><br /></div><div>The protests were ignored. I hate to interrupt a good story.</div><div><br /></div><div>I bet I can do a lot of stuff I don't think I can do, if I just keep distracting myself from the hard work by telling good stories and hanging out with fun people. It's worth a shot.</div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-84187888312843831032010-04-01T11:16:00.000-07:002010-04-01T11:44:29.758-07:00Is There a Chubby Mommy Inside?<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxBwjbKVoHimZTRF4EPIxqu_bNa03dkCR58dpjRLV2w-Fgc_vzV8zflrFejX7uysemGrBqw0ORae5vOzn2a' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-91059226796116878812010-04-01T10:03:00.000-07:002010-04-01T10:15:11.142-07:00Welcome Footzone!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMz2Z-2aEXNf3GEvdMDX5RuAN9Sl7DqYYCfiSU6zlxtjFH9NEvx9GSFvktgAwC7UiT7oOBkB_4DV1OHqoY9T-WFh-rynUm_7i7pu0hCeusxaIKeMo4H3ZBnfmUbVBRCpTBwejkK0frUmbt/s1600/foot+zone+logo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 59px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMz2Z-2aEXNf3GEvdMDX5RuAN9Sl7DqYYCfiSU6zlxtjFH9NEvx9GSFvktgAwC7UiT7oOBkB_4DV1OHqoY9T-WFh-rynUm_7i7pu0hCeusxaIKeMo4H3ZBnfmUbVBRCpTBwejkK0frUmbt/s200/foot+zone+logo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455218382180203314" /></a><br />Our newest sponsor here at Chubby Mommy Running Club is the <a href="http://www.footzonebend.com/">Footzone store in Bend, Oregon</a>. <div><br /></div><div>Teague Hatfield, the owner, has a passion for running, but as the married father of two young kids, he wants women everywhere to know that there's no "typical" runner out there - you don't have to be a marathoner to enjoy running or join a local community of like-minded runners. <div><br /></div><div>Footzone's <a href="http://www.footzonebend.com/events/learntorun">Learn to Run</a> classes have been a smashing success, and he's had to cap each session out at 150 people. But don't worry, new sessions start all the time.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>I shot this short video of him telling me </i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/TwistPopMedia#p/u/0/XwUdOst68KM"><i>"There's a Chubby Mommy in all of us"</i></a><i> yesterday, and I'm trying to figure out how to load it up here in the body of this post without crashing. For now, you'll have to click through to my YouTube channel. Ideas?</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-16352155866201458632010-03-29T19:13:00.000-07:002010-03-29T21:17:17.500-07:005K in Baltimore: In Which My New BFF Dumps Me for a Cute Guy at Fitbloggin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijsV4Msu3vZ9EqW39qU3WRqlNHngNGRwE1shMD1lsntpSJ4WeyIoDK62SzoDkQJtRMba9wz_356-qr8663Qkwso7yJPqKM0LfnveaXfXJo-LGv9jRZOJxqja2NYycax_DZ2WcLFGL-28Ae/s1600/fitarella+and+julie+on+the+docks.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijsV4Msu3vZ9EqW39qU3WRqlNHngNGRwE1shMD1lsntpSJ4WeyIoDK62SzoDkQJtRMba9wz_356-qr8663Qkwso7yJPqKM0LfnveaXfXJo-LGv9jRZOJxqja2NYycax_DZ2WcLFGL-28Ae/s320/fitarella+and+julie+on+the+docks.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5454256289965632866" /></a><br />So anyway, back to the total drama island of <a href="http://fitbloggin.com/">Fitbloggin-10 </a>and my new best friend <a href="http://fitarella.com/">Fitarella</a>, who's even cuter in person, actually. And taller. <div><br /></div><div>When we left this story, I was in my hotel room in Baltimore alone at 10:00 p.m., eating flank steak and vegetables, watching CNN, texting my kids, and too exhausted to even order vodka from the bar downstairs. </div><div><br /></div><div>So that tells you something right there. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's a glamorous life, traveling to obscure conferences and writing about them, but someone's gotta live it. Thank god <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/TwistPopMedia">I have a Flip Video now</a>, so I can record it for you, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, and about the videos from Fitbloggin? There's been some sort of computer error here at my house and all the videos I downloaded from Baltimore disappeared. It's temporary I'm sure. But let me say, there were some lovely 20 second spots of cute women boxing, and even some nice ones of the adorable people from EA Games playing the new stuff from <a href="http://wiifit.com/">WiiFit.</a> I'm serious.</div><div><br /></div><div>So anyway, I finally went to sleep at about 11:00 p.m. and then got up at 5:30 a.m. which was actually 2:30 in Oregon, for the record, in order to run the Fitbloggin 5K race at 6:30 a.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>You may remember that I sort of set myself up for this problem, by telling everyone I was going to run this thing. <a href="http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=106544456031810&ref=mf">I even said this on the news</a>, which aired about 6 times one day in Bend, Oregon. So I had to do it. My trainer Luann over at <a href="http://www.trainingforfun.com/">Training for Fun</a> would have killed me if I'd skipped (or she would have made do wall sits for an hour -same thing.)</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">I Found Her</span></b></div><div>So I got to the lobby with the other 98 women and 4 men who got up early to run,, and lo and behold, there was Fitarella, right in the middle of everyone. She's hard to miss, despite her petiteness. Her energy filled the whole entire hallway of the Marriott.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was friend at first sight.</div><div><br /></div><div>We hugged and gabbed and flitted around and she said sure, sure, I'll run with you, don't worry, I'm not very fast either. And then we all listened to the cute New Balance Guy who was helping organize the race, who told us about some new shoes, and the route we were running, and then we went outside and started to run. </div><div><br /></div><div>New Balance was smart to send that cute Guy, I think. We all followed him and I love my new shoes. Just sayin'.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">The Race</span></b></div><div>The sun was just starting to rise as we ran along the Inner Harbor in Baltimore. It was actually quite lovely and I sort of felt like a "real" runner with all those people chatting and running and being social. I usually don't like races because I don't like pressure when I exercise, and the word race just seems so...pressure-filled. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fitarella stayed with me, and we talked about stuff like where do you live? What do you do? Do you have kids? You know...stuff you should know about your BFF. Oh, and then she told me she was a marathoner. And was training for Boston.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh really? Huh. I'm not, I said. But she kept running with me anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">She Found The Guy</span></b></div><div>So we got to the halfway point, which was at the end of the dock at the harbor, and Cute New Balance Guy was there, and I asked him to take a picture of us. It wasn't just so we could stop, or say hello to him in person. I swear. </div><div><br /></div><div>Fitarella started chatting with him about different shoe models. Because she's a serious runner. She even knew the numbers of the shoes. I didn't realize shoes had numbers, because I'm more of a hobbyist, I guess.</div><div><br /></div><div>We all started running again, but sure enough, soon enough, Fitarella and New Balance Guy were sort of, you know, speeding up. Without thinking about it, probably. They were just engrossed in conversation, about different shoe numbers, that's all.</div><div><br /></div><div>I kept up for a while, and she did come back to check on me when I stopped to tie my shoe (again, I was not stopping on purpose or anything...really, it's not like I was tired. It was a safety issue.) But then we all started running again and well...you know how it goes.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's so easy to get distracted by beauty. And conversation. And numbers. I decided to just let them go.</div><div><br /></div><div>I could have sped up. I could have stayed with them. I wasn't too tired, for real. Despite appearances to the contrary, I'm actually very comfortable running a 5K. Just so you know. I usually run between 3-5 miles several times a week. You know, if the weather's good. And I'm not too busy. And I can go slowly. And tie my shoes a lot. As needed.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">The Other Women</span></b></div><div>But then a funny thing happened when I decided <i>not</i> to catch up to Fitarella and Cute New Balance Guy. I met a lovely young woman (much younger than me!) who was running up behind me. I waited for her a bit and introduced myself. This was her first 5K, she said. She was tired, but she really wanted to finish. </div><div><br /></div><div>My heart melted a bit because I remembered my first 5K. It was at Alton Baker Park in Eugene, Oregon a long time ago, and I was much younger and thinner then, but I was just starting to get back into running after a long break, and I was running all alone. It was labeled a "Fun Run" but it didn't seem so fun to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Eugene is the home of Nike. And Bowerman. And <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Prefontaine">Steve Prefontaine.</a> And Hayward Field and the Olympic Trials for Track and Field. I mean, seriously, these people are hardcore runners. Little kids wearing coordinating Nike running ensembles were passing me on the bike path as I lumbered along.</div><div><br /></div><div>I finished close to last that day, all alone, and I felt rather discouraged. I didn't do another 5K or a long, long time.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I ran with this woman who kept saying quietly to herself every once in a while "You can do this. You can do this..." as I chatted enough to distract her, to keep her going. I told her it was fine to walk, she shouldn't feel pressured to run the whole way...but she didn't want to walk. She wanted to run it all the way. It was a goal she'd set. </div><div><br /></div><div>I reminded her to use her arms a bit, if her legs got tired, it always helped me for some reason. Oh, she said, that's a good idea. And she did.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I kept talking, which I'm good at, and she kept running, and pretty soon we were almost there, almost there, just around the corner, I promise. Despite being left in the dust by my new BFF and Cute Boy, I still knew the way back to the hotel. </div><div><br /></div><div>We even picked up another first time 5K runner about 3 blocks from the hotel, and she was also talking to herself quietly, so thrilled to be so close, so proud of herself for actually doing it, wanting to make it all the way...she was so happy to run with us. She told us her story in two quick blocks.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FF6600;">The End</span></b></div><div>And then, amazingly, we made it. And everyone cheered, and these women I had been running with were so proud of themselves. They high-fived all around. They were beaming. And I was too. I was so thrilled for them.</div><div><br /></div><div>Fitarella was there, waving at us from the finish line. We all felt good, like you usually do after you exercise, which is the real reason you exercise (at least that's why I do it.) The during never feels as good as the end, in my opinion.</div><div><br /></div><div>It hit me then, when I was hugging my new running partners and congratulating them on a job well done, that maybe this is why I should run 5K's. Not because I like the actual race, but because I like to hang out with people who are working hard to achieve personal goals.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm glad I got up and went to the race that day. I enjoyed the journey. I think I'll do it again.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-66735410890054055032010-03-28T13:07:00.001-07:002010-03-28T19:08:49.695-07:00Just Peachy -Eating and Cooking with @juliejulie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje17J8XsQdUIE1oRMcBfRkKwQoL4YSEZux7z2pLMTgdMoi0syrRiyraCCCgBqwC17qkuCrXktWw9ZPSSPw_wF6cotjS9LFvBakIMEYCPOvX6Wq3HwtpBnSFtoBL5pzuxyQyJYnho7Ak5_8/s1600/peaches.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 273px; height: 281px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje17J8XsQdUIE1oRMcBfRkKwQoL4YSEZux7z2pLMTgdMoi0syrRiyraCCCgBqwC17qkuCrXktWw9ZPSSPw_wF6cotjS9LFvBakIMEYCPOvX6Wq3HwtpBnSFtoBL5pzuxyQyJYnho7Ak5_8/s320/peaches.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5453800026328335890" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2HeLcfxxTOXB7paW8VFcXZ52-5GCJdNFz82x8Tk_KvFHSR6I9ILjYc4Si8rvRmlF3ZGfko3YnxUWXySufNPFAy4EWoZR2aRAnqYgyMvMaScmtEiyvygqyU9fhlQhyphenhyphenIymHbqsavez5THN-/s1600/peaches.jpg"></a>Don't worry, we'll get back to <a href="http://fitarella.com/">Fitarella</a> and the New Balance boy in a bit, but first I want to tell you what I did with my frozen peaches.<div><br /></div><div>I usually don't talk about what I eat and how far I did or did not run here on this blog, but the fact is, I have lost weight through careful diet and exercise this past year, and some of you are asking for ideas about food.</div><div><br /></div><div>I do like good food, and I get tired of eating the same 15 things that help me stay on track with my health and fitness goals. So, welcome to my weird little food section here at Chubby Mommy Running Club. Please send me your ideas, and I'll share some of mine.</div><div><br /></div><div>I also started <a href="http://twitter.com/twitrecipes">@twitrecipes</a> over on Twitter and I need to start updating again. I'm happy to link to your recipes! You can send me links in comments or via email or my <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Chubby-Mommy-Running-Club/99810276894?ref=ts">Facebook Fan Page</a> if you aren't on Twitter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Some of you may remember when I worked with <a href="http://chubbymommyrunningclub.blogspot.com/2008/07/trying-and-not-crying-with-intrafitt.html">Cathy Sassin of Intrafit,</a> a well respected sports nutritionist who is also an ultra marathoner and was on <a href="http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.railriders.com/images/articles/051302cathy_panther.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.railriders.com/interview-super-fit-adventure-athlete-a-31.html&usg=__vg9dakShv34-gjsK8U5mTlLjEeg=&h=500&w=326&sz=20&hl=en&start=3&sig2=SSG--NfiKdZBIPfMpjQZyw&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=ANhvBBRy-ACCrM:&tbnh=130&tbnw=85&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dcathy%2Bsassin%2Bamerican%2Bgladiator%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26safe%3Doff%26sa%3DN%26tbs%3Disch:1&ei=trivS-qvE4PotAOix7D1Cw">American Gladiator </a>once. Her food plan really works and I saw results right away. </div><div><br /></div><div>I still follow it loosely and continue to lose slowly but surely, if I work out and measure everything. But I'm also a big fan of real life and balance and I'm in this healthy lifestyle thing for the long run. So, I'm about 80% careful about food, and enjoy my other 20%.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's how I eat, in general:</div><div><br /></div><div><ul><li>I try to <b>eat a small, balanced 400 calorie meal every 3-4 hours. </b>Balanced means some carbs, protein and a little fat. The combo keeps my blood sugar even. Nuts, egg yolks, olive oil, etc. are all fats. Hint: if I cut out fat, I get really, really hungry within 2 hours and tend to crash. Other hint: it's all about portion control. Read the label. 1/4 cup of nuts isn't much, people.</li><li><b>I've had good luck</b> <b>with natural products</b> like <a href="http://www.clifbar.com/food/products_builders/">Cliff's Builder's protein bars</a>, which offer 270 calories of decent, balanced carbs, protein and fat with natural ingredients, when I'm busy, traveling, etc. I eat one in the morning for breakfast, 1.5 to 2 hours before I exercise.</li><li><b>I don't eat much refined sugar</b>, although I always choose real sugar over artificial sweeteners. I don't like how aspartame tastes, and I don't like how I feel when I eat it. </li><li><b>I don't drink soda</b>, diet or otherwise. I do like <a href="http://www.drysoda.com/">Dry Soda</a> and buy it for parties, but in general, we don't drink soda very often. We do buy the kids regular soda (they like 7Up and Dr. Pepper!) for special occasions and let them drink it at restaurants. I think of it like dessert.</li><li><b>I drink lots of water.</b> I don't drink much juice. I'm not anti-juice, I'd just rather have fiber with my fruit and not waste calories. Water is my main beverage.</li><li><b>Right now I'm avoiding wheat and dairy.</b> I've gone on and off both of these for years. I have a bit of an immune system reaction to them which flares up every 5 or 6 years when my hormones change for the next round of life. For me this means I get a sore throat, swollen glands and feel over the top exhausted within 20 minutes of eating the offending foods. My 44 year old perimenopausal brain was feeling especially foggy a few months ago, so I cut these foods out again and within 2 weeks I felt back to normal. A little bit here and there is fine now, but I don't eat a bowl of cereal every morning any more.</li><li><b>I'm usually not a big vitamin taker,</b> but since I cut out wheat and dairy I started a multi vitamin and a calcium supplement.</li><li><b>I eat a lot of lean meat and vegetables.</b> It's just what works for me. I do cook vegetarian because I have a kid who's veggie, so I'm cool with it. I respect vegetarians, but I'm a carnivore, so please don't try to convert me.</li></ul><div>Ok, on to the recipe. I made this up this morning. I improvised with what we had lying around, and I don't really measure. And yes, I used some sugar and some flour, but not much. Also, I just ate a very small portion, but my kids chowed down and even my picky husband liked this. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Use protein powder or soy flour to add more protein if needed to make this a meal, or serve it with some Morningstar Farms Veggie sausages, a good source of lower fat protein, and one of my kid's favorites.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><b>@juliejulie's Baked Peach Thingy</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Ingredients: </div><div><br /></div><div>Cream cheese (you could also use extra firm tofu or Tofutti cream cheese)</div><div>Brown Sugar</div><div>Oatmeal</div><div>Peaches</div><div>Flour</div><div>Eggs or Egg White Product</div><div>Coconut</div><div><ol><li>Mix 1/2 cup of cream cheese with a little brown sugar and enough oatmeal to bind it together (1/2 cup?) I used lowfat cream cheese this time, I'd probably use less if it were regular strength.</li><li>Sprinkle some brown sugar and oatmeal in bottom of a glass baking dish</li><li>Lay some sliced peaches on top</li><li>Use half the cream cheese mixture and drop it in little blobs on top of peaches</li><li>Sprinkle more sugar and oatmeal on top</li><li>Lay some more peaches on top of that</li><li>Sprinkle flour on top of that layer (rice flour, soy flour, whatever) this will make everything hold together as it cooks. It's science.</li><li>Pour some liquid egg mixture on top of all of it and let it sink in (I use Trader Joe's "Just Whites" or <a href="http://www.costco.com/Browse/Product.aspx?Prodid=11334186&whse=BD_823&Ne=5000001%204000000&eCat=BD_823|9897|10050&N=4031230%204294966372&Mo=0&No=0&Nr=P_CatalogName:BD_823&Ns=P_Price|1||P_SignDesc1&lang=en-US&topnav=bdoff/">Costco's "Real Egg" Product,</a> but you could use real eggs mixed with a bit of milk, too.)</li><li>Top off with the rest of the cream cheese mixture, more brown sugar and oatmeal and some coconut. Yum. We like coconut.</li><li>Bake at 350' for 45 minutes, or until hot and not too runny in the middle. I covered it in foil for a while, then took it off at the end to get the top crispy.</li><li>Let it cool, maybe a half hour if you can wait that long.</li></ol><div>I was going to take a picture but I forgot, and this thing disappeared in about 6 minutes. </div><div><br /></div><div>Yay for peaches!</div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-50052561709532393622010-03-26T05:57:00.000-07:002010-03-26T08:37:48.941-07:00FitBloggin Conference #1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71nKrmE6e1bXzqyY09VtbUGvoMJe1sxzgD2MRD2PNx5ZXY9nIzWxogpzQBnMGZV3Ad9MmqR-L3OoLNFNL8HQkVz7KGLKwfP7KLRRAoljNvnLgt5HVFwBPPijcKFc3cDfjsqQ2z_7HgrOG/s1600/fitbloggin-group.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj71nKrmE6e1bXzqyY09VtbUGvoMJe1sxzgD2MRD2PNx5ZXY9nIzWxogpzQBnMGZV3Ad9MmqR-L3OoLNFNL8HQkVz7KGLKwfP7KLRRAoljNvnLgt5HVFwBPPijcKFc3cDfjsqQ2z_7HgrOG/s400/fitbloggin-group.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452942404779816130" /></a><br />I went to Baltimore for the <a href="http://fitbloggin.com/about/">Fitbloggin Conference </a>last weekend, and then on to Washington DC. It was a whirlwind trip, and my head is still spinning a bit. I've decided to break the journey down for you in small steps and small posts because I've never been a big marathoner. I'm more of a 5k-er. <div><br /></div><div>If I tell you several small stories, maybe eventually you'll see the big picture. And you won't be so tired at the end. And then you can tell me what the big picture is. Hopefully. There may or may not be a quiz. Also, there will be video, as soon as I figure out how to load my flip videos onto my laptop without crashing it.<div><br /></div><div>First of all, let me just say this: <a href="http://chubbymommyrunningclub.blogspot.com/2007/10/yes-it-really-is-all-about-me.html">I started this blog </a>as a hobby back in 2007 to learn about blogging. I never really intended for it to be a "fitness blog," it was just a place to write little stories about my life. But it turns out fitness is a big part of my life, even though I treat it like a hobby, too. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now, three years later, I'm used to my blog, I know what it's about (me, me, me of course, and my journey through middle aged angst with humor and a bit of running) and other people are noticing it, like <a href="http://chubbymommyrunningclub.blogspot.com/search?q=the+one+about+the+book+deal">book agents</a>, and asking me to think bigger. And I like to think bigger. Big thinking is my specialty.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I went to the conference to meet other fitness writers like <a href="http://mizfitonline.com/2010/03/26/thoughts-from-fitbloggin10/">Mizfit Online</a> and a few <a href="http://fitbloggin.com/sponsors/">sponsors</a> like <a href="http://www.newbalance.com/">New Balance </a>who gave us shoes and POM (<a href="http://www.pomwonderful.com/">POM gave us martinis</a>!) and authors like <a href="http://jennettefulda.com/?page=book-ha&">Jennette Fulda of Half-Assed</a> fame and food gurus like <a href="http://davidgrotto.wordpress.com/">David Grotto</a> who think big.</div><div><br /></div><div>First, I spent a few weeks working with my friend Luann at <a href="http://jennettefulda.com/?page=book-ha">Training for Fun</a> getting my knee in shape for the Fitbloggin 5k run and I even let everyone <a href="http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=106544456031810&ref=mf">watch me do sit ups on TV</a> Which was embarrassing, by the way, because of the tummy bulging thing. But I'll do almost anything to be on TV. Almost.</div><div><br /></div><div>The core strength training thing with Luann really worked though. My knee stopped hurting and I even lost some inches in the process, mainly around my bust, which is typical, but irritating. But at least I had a good excuse to buy cute new <a href="http://chubbymommyrunningclub.blogspot.com/2010/01/bras-bras-bras.html">bras</a>. Bonus.</div><div><br /></div><div>So last Thursday I drove my kids 7 hours to Seattle to stay with a host of aunts and uncles while I was gone. I ran around <a href="http://chubbymommyrunningclub.blogspot.com/2010/03/running-with-view.html">Green Lake</a>, hung out with relatives, ate marvelous food, slept for 5 hours, then got up at 4:30 a.m. Friday to fly across the country. </div><div><br /></div><div>I finally landed in Baltimore at 6:00 p.m. Friday, just in time for the cocktail party where I immediately met some online buddies like Deb Roby of <a href="http://weightfordeb.wordpress.com/">Weight for Deb </a>and brand new friends: Kara of <a href="http://www.fatwomanonthemountain.com/">Fat Woman on the Mountain</a> and Mandi of <a href="http://trainermomma.blogspot.com/">Trainer Momma</a> and <a href="http://www.lisajohnsonfitness.com/">Lisa Johnson </a>. I'm good at that meeting people stuff. It's one of my not-so-secret talents.</div><div><br /></div><div>But the whole night, I kept searching for my new best friend, <a href="http://fitarella.com/">Fitarella</a>. I had met her briefly at The <a href="http://www.audienceconf.com/">Audience Conference </a>in New York in November, but didn't realize she was a fitness blogger. Which is weird, since her name is Fitarella. But it's also Jacqueline, which I kept forgetting during this trip because I know everyone by their twitter or blog names. </div><div><br /></div><div>And back in New York I didn't realize how funny Fitarella is because our meeting was so brief. We were introduced, she smiled, said hello, and then she left. So elusive. I'm surprised she didn't leave a perfect glass slipper at the bar in New York.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I asked several people at the Fitbloggin cocktail party if they'd seen Fitarella, and many said yes, she had been there, but then had disappeared. Mysteriously.</div><div><br /></div><div>I checked Twitter and saw she was looking for me (she claimed, in several well timed posts) but it was all a bit wild goose-chase-ish. And then her phone died. And then mine did. </div><div><br /></div><div>Again with the elusive.</div><div><br /></div><div>So finally, I gave up, went to my room, ordered room service, and went to bed.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Next post:</b> finding Fitarella and the cute New Balance Boy.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-77131773648242989232010-03-21T16:17:00.000-07:002010-03-21T16:43:49.506-07:00Running with a View<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzb2CRVT9TFKdFpQB03Gb1jgw5DEb5KOyjtTt2zMQ9cfTEKwBjL0s0wFIhrYVqm8C0m0usg5TyTtdilod3CPxhE4NpOgGVREDbQaVWCaVITKdzkuEMujjmZ3At5VZWiUCqKj9cuFFxKEYI/s1600-h/julie+pointing+to+greenlake.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzb2CRVT9TFKdFpQB03Gb1jgw5DEb5KOyjtTt2zMQ9cfTEKwBjL0s0wFIhrYVqm8C0m0usg5TyTtdilod3CPxhE4NpOgGVREDbQaVWCaVITKdzkuEMujjmZ3At5VZWiUCqKj9cuFFxKEYI/s320/julie+pointing+to+greenlake.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451235597466874322" /></a><br />I ran around Green Lake when I was in Seattle last Thursday evening. It's a great community gathering spot, in the middle of the city, where all kinds of people, babies and dogs cruise along a wide path that circles the lake in pursuit of exercise and conversation. <div><br /></div><div>I'm impressed with myself for making it all the way around, as you can see by the expression on my face. I think the ducks are impressed with me too. You can't see their expressions, but I did, and they were smiling. One of them may have winked, which is duck language for "good job." They can't really high five (they'd fall over) so they wink. I read it in a book once. <div><br /></div><div>Now that my knee doesn't hurt any more (thanks to my trainer Luann at <a href="http://www.trainingforfun.com/">Training for Fun</a>) I'm actually enjoying running a bit more. Hard to believe, I know. I especially enjoy running in nice weather, with a view. </div><div><br /></div><div>Actively seeking new views. Where's your favorite place to run?</div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-72208700922404760172010-03-11T13:02:00.000-08:002010-03-11T13:21:46.073-08:00Running with Inga<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCh9fii6RWKcjQFvGFYDkyrcxMlrXozMTEKCO5OOvMeq6Yq3lscSOX8b-ZXDLyvxNVGTCiQZ9A3-FY26numQ7kVHybTSkLstLxR7oPvU2VRgw5kiVEb7vU3TXWgze23JD-PURXhikswUm/s1600-h/tigua+and+julie+on+path.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHCh9fii6RWKcjQFvGFYDkyrcxMlrXozMTEKCO5OOvMeq6Yq3lscSOX8b-ZXDLyvxNVGTCiQZ9A3-FY26numQ7kVHybTSkLstLxR7oPvU2VRgw5kiVEb7vU3TXWgze23JD-PURXhikswUm/s200/tigua+and+julie+on+path.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447485104613702338" /></a>Dear Roxanne: Can Inga come running with me today? I think he likes me.<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Dear Julie: No. Inga and I are lost in the woods right now. I need him to find our way home. He is sniffing the air, he can't talk to you.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Roxanne: Well, how about tomorrow? You don't have to come with us, if you're busy, I could just take him.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Dear Julie: No. He is a shy dog, and only likes me. Sorry.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Roxanne: But, I miss him.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Dear Julie: I didn't want to tell you this, but Inga hates you.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Roxanne: That' not true, Roxanne. Clearly you are jealous of Inga and me. We are just friends, I swear.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Dear Julie: I am happy to continue running with you, but please stop calling Inga. He has moved away. To a nice cabin in the woods, actually, which we are trying to find right now. Do not try to contact him. I'm taking his tracking collar off now. </span></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Roxanne: Fine.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Dear Julie: Fine.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Dear Roxanne: Can you still run Friday?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Dear Julie: Maybe. I'll call you. But don't call me, Inga gets agitated when he hears your voice.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><br /></span></div><div>Dear Roxanne: He does not. You're being dramatic.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Dear Julie: I have to go now. You should go running with Luann. She seems nice.</span></div><div><br /></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-27973423148165643632010-03-10T20:27:00.000-08:002010-04-10T20:28:35.695-07:00Astrid's skirt<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjGJYcRKy-0fO7708CYpVHu3Rdn7cOhDK1ydbvda_GPaCDIQPc5bh8dQmWqYUlCoufVxKE4sgdviUlPeg8mHfSCZp_WcAhv1Kn_E-eEzEO6GJEQuiqy-B1fBHJfWt-pgqHl_SWMCwf_BJ/s1600/astrid's+skirt.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 158px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjGJYcRKy-0fO7708CYpVHu3Rdn7cOhDK1ydbvda_GPaCDIQPc5bh8dQmWqYUlCoufVxKE4sgdviUlPeg8mHfSCZp_WcAhv1Kn_E-eEzEO6GJEQuiqy-B1fBHJfWt-pgqHl_SWMCwf_BJ/s320/astrid's+skirt.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458716566270366754" /></a>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-81088129899395979982010-03-08T15:33:00.000-08:002010-03-08T20:12:13.529-08:00Chubby Mommy and Perky Mommy, the Movie<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz5lZ4ga8Qc5UKWz3ePHU6Cth_-G_Bfr4lCUesv5XzHbWkbjU_hF3H-N3oozeL30qWu5Tps69Y5jqIDMno5o6U-r7hRn8Ws1O7bgBEsJtX2JOL4KG8ENC9jHJwNQrW2FNZ_Dv6YnsuwG6/s1600-h/julie+luann+in+park+cropped.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvz5lZ4ga8Qc5UKWz3ePHU6Cth_-G_Bfr4lCUesv5XzHbWkbjU_hF3H-N3oozeL30qWu5Tps69Y5jqIDMno5o6U-r7hRn8Ws1O7bgBEsJtX2JOL4KG8ENC9jHJwNQrW2FNZ_Dv6YnsuwG6/s320/julie+luann+in+park+cropped.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446414373376107874" /></a><br />Here is Luann over at <a href="http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=106544456031810&ref=mf">Training for Fun</a> and me, in all our glory. We are being featured on KBNZ's Media Minute today (KOIN, channel 6 in Portland and Bend, airs 7 times today!) which profiles interesting people and businesses in Bend, Oregon. This is quite flattering, if you think about it, because at least someone thinks we're interesting.<div><div><br /></div><div>Here's the video: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=106544456031810&ref=mf">Chubby Mommy and Perky Mommy</a> - Look! We're working out in this video - for real! It's not even staged! We're super natural and fun! Just like usual!<br /><div><br /></div><div>Here's what's not flattering: my stomach, doing sit ups. I'd like to blame Brandon, the camera man, but he's not the one who made my chubby tummy. I guess I am the one who made it. I guess I have to keep doing sit ups.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks for watching. </div></div></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-89536358512871978282010-03-06T09:59:00.000-08:002010-03-06T10:12:57.860-08:00The Dark Side of Crunches: Wendy Has a Knife<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHuwce59ziNNkS-EvkT5omjzfvrpP46MGKZS2S7-BEdVXvC6of2hSVL4pZprZKV7PnZNxAxsNvKjwzDckAaoBr6MSs8UZKhmiLymwzIJ0Hddzp1-IXXlztZWDB9JkG3KvSDiYRWMj0zl3/s1600-h/wendy+on+ball+with+knife.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHuwce59ziNNkS-EvkT5omjzfvrpP46MGKZS2S7-BEdVXvC6of2hSVL4pZprZKV7PnZNxAxsNvKjwzDckAaoBr6MSs8UZKhmiLymwzIJ0Hddzp1-IXXlztZWDB9JkG3KvSDiYRWMj0zl3/s320/wendy+on+ball+with+knife.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445584510124459810" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family:'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Calibri;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Today's post brought to you by the delightfully dark, hilarious writer of the blog </span><a href="http://wendrina.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"There Once Was a Girl"</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Wendy started running, and should be an inspiration to 40 year old moms everywhere. She even does crunches on balls. And s</span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/MsWendyly#p/a/u/0/HS3J8ySOTlg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">he makes her cat work out on the treadmill.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></i></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I’m new to this whole fitness thing. Six months before my 40</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> birthday, my body decided it was time to fail me and one day I woke up lumpy. I finally got boobs, but I also got thighs, a belly, and I those flappy skin parts under </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">my upper arms when I raise my hands. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The ultimate horror was buying a mom swimsuit that provides modest coverage. ‘Modest coverage’ is code for ‘too round for an adorable bikini,’ but they don’t put that on the tags. I decided I have to get in shape.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I started by turning the $800 coat rack into a treadmill. Crazy, I know. I started walking and it was deceptively easy. If I can walk, then I should be able to run, right? Yes, I can run. I can also lick my armpits, but that doesn’t mean I will. I hate running. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I have a series of words mostly starting with ‘f’ that I say each time I slam my foot on the treadmill. It doesn’t make running easier, but it makes me feel better. Try it – “eff this, eff that.” Repeat. I’m trying to eventually run a 5k with my kid that actually likes running. I’m pretty sure he’s not mine. He’s only 13, so I need to find him a fake ID, because I’ve decided that the Beer Run in June</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">is for me. Beer after every mile? Probably the best idea ever.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Running alone won’t get rid of the belly, so I do crunches and other bad things. I bought an exercise ball, because I was told they’re great for ab work. I flopped myself on my back across the ball and did a couple of test crunches and I didn’t roll off. Yay! Someone invented an easy way to do crunches! I crunched and crunched and crunched. </span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span style="line-height: normal; "><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Unused muscles started screaming an hour later. I wasn’t going to let that ball get the best of me, so I did it again the next day. At the time I was watching Netflix Instant with a kid, so I couldn’t bring out the “eff this, eff that.” I’d have cried, but it would have hurt my tender ripped abs too much. I thought about crying instead. Natural childbirth might not have been as painful as trying to lift the upper half of my body. Exercise balls should come with percocet or vicodin or tequila.</span></span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Through trial and error and excruciating pain, I’m figuring out a way to make this exercise stuff work. While on the ball, I plot its hideous death. Today it might be gutted with a fork, and tomorrow I could hold it over a flame or snip it with rusty nail clippers soaked in lemon juice and salt. As for the treadmill, I have a chubby cat that will do anything for a treat. He’s learning to take over my treadmill duties. I hope he works hard so I’ll be ready for the Beer Run. I’ll need that beer to conquer weight lifting.</span></span></p><p class="ecxMsoNormal" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; "><span style="line-height: normal; font-family:Calibri;font-size:100%;"> </span></p></span>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1145488929536590651.post-11394201401350127242010-03-05T15:11:00.000-08:002010-03-05T15:36:55.534-08:00A Guy Wearing Uggs?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbHEZGPPioF6bGLaL4rFm0Wyv15E3050-Qx74JNgqmNkBSVE1Nhz6xpo6fU5FFlg1gD-m_VG2jzB1JXWwfLBUX4tEjDwOuP_Cbx9dLa2sKIHcrENU56-HyDWTLgJDHkHTlXlX2qSpsBnt/s1600-h/brandon+and+julie+at+park+cropped.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXbHEZGPPioF6bGLaL4rFm0Wyv15E3050-Qx74JNgqmNkBSVE1Nhz6xpo6fU5FFlg1gD-m_VG2jzB1JXWwfLBUX4tEjDwOuP_Cbx9dLa2sKIHcrENU56-HyDWTLgJDHkHTlXlX2qSpsBnt/s320/brandon+and+julie+at+park+cropped.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445293690652014290" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Dear Julie, </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">I cannot possibly run today as I saw a guy wearing Ugg boots</span><span class="ecxApple-converted-space"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><br />at a coffee shop this morning.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">XXOO,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#666666;">Roxanne</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Verdana;font-size:13px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">Dear Roxanne,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">Good lord, I'm so sorry you had to see that. I hope you are in bed with a cold compress. Call me tomorrow when the image leaves your head. We can run as soon as you are able.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">Love,</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">@juliejulie</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:13px;">P.S. This is a picture of me and Brandon, the Reporter from KOPV/KOIN who did a story on me and <a href="http://www.trainingforfun.com/">my new trainer, Luann</a>. Don't worry, Roxanne, he was not wearing Uggs, I just wanted to remind you to watch TV on Monday, channel 6, to see how cute Luann is. I'm afraid I will look chubby on TV, so I posted this picture as proof that with good lighting and proper angles, I can look 20 pounds thinner.</span></span></div>juliejuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11551399519518609941noreply@blogger.com3