Running with Inga

Dear Roxanne: Can Inga come running with me today? I think he likes me.

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.

Dear Roxanne: Well, how about tomorrow? You don't have to come with us, if you're busy, I could just take him.

Dear Julie: No. He is a shy dog, and only likes me. Sorry.

Dear Roxanne: But, I miss him.

Dear Julie: I didn't want to tell you this, but Inga hates you.

Dear Roxanne: That' not true, Roxanne. Clearly you are jealous of Inga and me. We are just friends, I swear.

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.

Dear Roxanne: Fine.

Dear Julie: Fine.

Dear Roxanne: Can you still run Friday?

Dear Julie: Maybe. I'll call you. But don't call me, Inga gets agitated when he hears your voice.

Dear Roxanne: He does not. You're being dramatic.

Dear Julie: I have to go now. You should go running with Luann. She seems nice.

Astrid's skirt

Chubby Mommy and Perky Mommy, the Movie

Here is Luann over at Training for Fun 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.

Here's the video: Chubby Mommy and Perky Mommy - Look! We're working out in this video - for real! It's not even staged! We're super natural and fun! Just like usual!

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.

Thanks for watching.

The Dark Side of Crunches: Wendy Has a Knife

Today's post brought to you by the delightfully dark, hilarious writer of the blog "There Once Was a Girl" Wendy started running, and should be an inspiration to 40 year old moms everywhere. She even does crunches on balls. And she makes her cat work out on the treadmill.

I’m new to this whole fitness thing. Six months before my 40^th 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 my upper arms when I raise my hands. 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.

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. 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 is for me. Beer after every mile? Probably the best idea ever.

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.

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.

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.

A Guy Wearing Uggs?

Dear Julie,

I cannot possibly run today as I saw a guy wearing Ugg boots
at a coffee shop this morning.

XXOO,

Roxanne

Dear Roxanne,

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.

Love,

@juliejulie

P.S. This is a picture of me and Brandon, the Reporter from KOPV/KOIN who did a story on me and my new trainer, Luann. 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.

How I Got Hot and Bothered in Snow Shoes

So I went snowshoeing. And it was easy, and it was fun. It was also a major workout, which frankly, I wasn't really expecting. But it's more fun than being on a treadmill.

Also, there's incentive to keep going when you're snow shoeing, because if you stop half way through, you'll freeze to death if you don't walk back to the car again. Winter sports are extreme like that.

When I went down to the snow shoe rental place last night, I told the guy I was a novice and he should give me "beginner" snow shoes.

"No such thing," he said. "Can you walk?"

"Well, yes," I stammered, "didn't you see me walk in here?"

"If you can walk, you can snow shoe. You'll be fine."

So I trusted him. And gave him $12. And then he gave me some lovely powder blue snow shoes.

My friend Patrice picked me up this morning at 8:30 on the dot. She's my bookkeeper, and tends to be exact. Which is a good thing for bookkeepers. We picked up Renee next (who has a cute pink coat and photographs well) and drove to the snow park, just 10 minutes away from my house, to miles and miles of well marked trails.

You'd think I'd go snow shoeing every day, since I live so close and I like the snow and I'm good at walking, but there's a first time for everything, even for people who live in a winter wonderland like Bend, OR.

We put on our snowshoes in the parking lot, looked at the map to make sure we wouldn't get lost, and then started hiking over the hills and through the woods, following the little blue snow shoe guy signs.

In no time at all, we were huffing and puffing and saying "Why am I so tired? This seems like it should be so easy, we're just walking!"

So then I thought up some scientific answers that had to do with the width of the snow shoe making our legs do physics they weren't used to doing, which made the muscles we didn't know we had work on obscure things, like picking up a snow shoe and putting it down again. As we were walking.

Everyone believed me, and then we got to the shelter and sat down in the recliner that someone must have hauled in, probably on skis, or with a snow mobile, to rest. It seems like it'd be too hard to carry something this heavy while walking in snow shoes. But that's just me being lazy, I guess.

We had lunch, then we hiked back to the parking lot.

That's it. The whole thing took less than 3 hours from door to door, including lunch and dropping the shoes back at the rental place. The best news? I felt sufficiently worked out enough to eat a piece of bacon for lunch as a reward.

Let this be a lesson to you. If you go snowshoeing, you get to eat bacon.

The end.

P.S. I posted more pictures on Facebook, since for some reason Blogger only wants me to post one picture per post these days, which means I may have to switch this whole entire operation over to WordPress. That'll show it. Sheesh.

Train for Fun #2: Look, I'm Flying!

So I had my second day of "fun" with Luann Abrams at Training for Fun. Actually, I should take the quotes off the word fun, because it was fun. I mean, look - I even learned to fly on this Bosu ball.

I swear to god that ball will be the death of me.

Anyway, this morning, almost every muscle in my body was saying "Oh, hi, we hurt. You should take a nap instead of going back to that cute perky girl who talks you into doing 'plank' on that squishy ball over and over."

But I ignored them. Because if left to their own devices, my muscles would deteriorate into nothing and I would be like warm Jello with bones in the middle, instead of shredded carrots.

It's true.