Frosting.

So, yeah. Things have been happening. I didn't think it was possible to be hurting more than I already was, but then some stuff happened, and I said to myself, "Self, your life is ridiculous sometimes."

I'll handle it. I'm pretty good at handling ridiculousness.

Anyway, that leads to my lack of posting lately. I started taking yoga at this place near my house, and discovered that I am hilarious when attempting to bend in ways that my body does not want to bend. The instructor doesn't seem to find it as funny, but I like her because she constantly makes me try different poses even when I'm scared. I'm doing a trial membership right now, and plan to take advantage of trial memberships all over town to see which yoga studio I like best. I think it might be a good thing to pursue when it's cold and snowing outside.

I ran a local 5K, and while it wasn't my best time ever, it also wasn't my worst. I was proud of myself because I sprinted the last little bit and passed a couple people. I did the best that I could, and that makes me happy.

Hood to Coast = ridiculous. If only I felt like publicizing to the Internet the goings on of my life, you would probably all say to me that I'm silly for running Hood to Coast when I had so much going on, but it was a really good distraction. I spent two days locked in a van (with some close friends, but also some strangers). I ran 17 miles in less than 24 hours. I slept in a field because that's what people do... It was an odd 197 miles. Kind of like what I imagine Woodstock was like, but with a bunch of crazy runners instead of drugs, nudity, and music. So really not like Woodstock at all.

My favorite leg was the middle leg. The first one was hot, flat, and boring for 6 miles. The last leg was hot, hilly, and sucked cause I was exhausted and was ready to be done. The middle leg was 7 miles, and I ran them at 3 a.m. through the middle of a pitch black forest. Particularly creepy because all that I had was a head lamp, reflective vest, and flashy lights on either side and at times I was the only person on the road and no vans were passing by. I also tripped in a pothole, nearly fell off the road into the ditch, and was very close to being hit by a car which I suspect was being driven by a drunk driver. Luckily I am excellent at regaining my balance due to my habit of falling down a lot. Also, a handsome man grabbed me out of the way of the drunk driver (if you're reading this, cute guy that runs faster than me, you should call me. We could go out to dinner and not get hit by cars together. Sounds magical, right?) and I did not die.

Some photo goodness:





Hood to Coast people have this habit of calling people "roadkill" when they pass them, and keeping track of their "roadkill count" and let me just tell you... I was roadkill a lot. Those Hood to Coast people don't mess around. We're talking 7 minute miles. On my middle of the night leg, there was a clearing where people were gathered to cheer on their teams, and when I arrived at that point the teams started chanting, "Kill her! Kill her!" as the girl behind me was trying to pass me. I totally hauled ass and avoided her... until we got past the clearing and no one could see us. Holy hell, she was fast.

So, yes, I did not die. Also, recently Shawna and I went on a road trip to Tour de Fat in Boise and I went out in public looking like this:



Luckily it was a drunken bicycle parade, so people didn't really care. And yes, I rode a bicycle wearing that. What?

For some reason, when I am as down as I have been the past couple days, baking makes me feel better. So yesterday I made gingerbread cupcakes with buttercream frosting and tiny gingerbread men on top. I didn't really want to eat them, I just wanted to make something. And frosting makes me happy, in all it's fluffy glory.

I'm pretty convinced that all of life's problems can be solved with frosting.

Note to self... do not run while sick.

Did I mention I'm ill? I have the cold from hell, and last night it began to hurt my lungs to breathe, and even more so when I cough. I was feeling horrible all day at work, but I'm stubborn and like to pretend like I am fine.

My day started like this:



It continued like this:



Which led to this:



With a final dose of this:



It took me WAY too long to run that 13.1 miles today--like I was seriously sucking it up, but I was pushing myself as hard as I could. I just couldn't breathe! Shortly upon my arrival home, my sister made me go to urgent care where lovely things happened like an x-ray of my chest to see if I have pneumonia.

Plus note: I do not have pneumonia. Sad note: I have a bad viral infection, and the doctor was very mad at me for having run a half marathon that morning. What can I say, I am hardcore. Either that, or foolish.

Now I have inhalers that I am supposed to use every few hours, and I had to do weird breathing treatments. Also, I still feel like crap.

Also, I am not allowed to run or do any aerobic activity for at least a week, per my doctor. She's very strict, and finds me very ridiculous.

At least I finished, right?

Operation Pants

So, I have this problem... my pants don't fit. I realize that training for a marathon put me in some kickass shape, and now that I am not training for a marathon, my pants do not fit.

Oops. Also, damn.

Turns out I've gained 20 pounds in the past year, which is entirely unfortunate. Granted, I had a hell of a year, with lots of changes--but I also ran a marathon, so that's cool. I never really intended to gain weight back, but then, who does? It's not that I'm unhappy with myself, it's more that I would really like to wear the closet full of pants that I own, and not buy new ones.

Currently size 12 fits. I'm cool with this, and I do not think a size 12 is a bad thing. Nor will I let anyone convince me that size 12 is fat, or that I should be smaller. I can still run, I can still be awesome, and I am still healthy. I just felt much more comfortable at a size 10. And I have really cute size 10 pants, and I would like for them to fit, please.

It's weird to me that I sometimes feel fat and later reflect upon that weight and realize that when I thought that, I was not at all fat. Several years ago I weighed 220 pounds and dreamed of being a size 12. As such, I like to keep things in perspective. Size 12 = good. Size 10 = able to wear pants, and still good.

I have no idea how I've gained 20 pounds... I thought I would notice after 10, and I did, but I still gained 10 more. Am I just supposed to be this weight? Am I just destined to be this size unless I'm doing ridiculous things like training for a marathon? I still think I'm awesome, regardless. My family still loves me. I seem to have found a man who likes me even if I have gotten a little softer in the middle, which is a bonus. Still, I feel like I can be a little more hardcore. And I'm too cheap to buy new pants

Thus, my mission: to make my pants fit.

Here are random pictures for your amusement, from my birthday. My pants fit at that point:

Shawna's sweet 26th = success!

Yesterday we spent the day touring a local brewery and then celebrating Shawna's birthday with events such as an impromptu dance party in our courtyard. Behold:



Our plans to wear old bridesmaid/prom dresses led to wearing our dresses to dinner (that's a friend's senior prom dress that I'm wearing in the photo, Shawna has on her senior prom dress partially covered with a t-shirt from a local bbq joint). We all changed afterward because holy heck, those things are uncomfortable. Still, we looked awesome.

I can't say for sure, but it's entirely possible that I almost got kicked out of a bar because a friend decided to pick me up and haul me over a seven food wall rather than letting me walk around to some stairs to come up to where they were sitting. They didn't necessarily like that at the bar, nor did they like when our friend stood on a chair to sing happy birthday to Shawna. Luckily, I have pals like Shawna who pull my dress down for me while I'm mid-air to avoid showing my ass to the world. I can't be responsible for what happens after two shots of tequila.

Aloha?

So, I forgot to mention, but in 35 days I'm going to Hawaii for a week. The boyfriend's best friend and I plotted together and bought plane tickets for the three of us to go on vacation for the boyfriend's 30th birthday. It happens to be on April 30, so he turns 30 on the 30th--cool, huh? Anyway, we'll be gone April 26 through May 1.

I also forgot to mention that I've gained 15 pounds since the marathon. Whoops! I really took my winter padding seriously this year. It's not the worst thing that's ever happened to someone, but I do have one minor problem.... My bathing suit does not fit. And I am going to go play in a warm, tropical ocean.

Damn.

As such, I have 35 days to try to step up my game and make the damn thing fit. I'm feeling more like myself lately, and more hardcore, and running far more often than I did all winter... So that's a good sign. I still feel just as attractive and awesome while 15 pounds heavier, but I'd really like to conserve money and not buy a new bathing suit. I'm very thrifty.

It's also about five months until Hood to Coast. Woo!

Today I went for an extremely rain-soaked hike with my sister. I'm so rugged.

The 15K run that wasn't...

I got up this morning with every intention of running a 15k. I made The Boyfriend, who shall now be known as Jason, and I some pumpkin waffles for breakfast, got dressed, and we were on our way to the starting line.

That's when we drove up the side of an f-ing mountain.

The road up to the starting line happened to be the course for the race. Straight downhill, and straight uphill on the way back. Did I mention I had horrendous menstrual cramps? Like, bad. As we were searching for somewhere to park, observing the mayhem that was this poorly-organized race, I realized that it was not worth $7 (cheap entry fee) to me to run this.

So I didn't.

Instead we came home and I ran 10 miles. More than a 15k, nice and relaxing, and a lovely way to enjoy the sunshine. I'm okay with this decision. Did I mention that we also saw a car on its side in the ditch on the way up? That's how awesome the parking was. The road literally caved in beneath someone who parked on the side near a bridge.

So, yeah, I fail at 15ks today. But I'm awesome at solo 10 mile runs! Here I am, enjoying my decision:



Now it is Superbowl/pizza/beer/sweatpants time.

Weeked. Tired. Gravy.

This weekend my little sister turned 23. We celebrated by going out to dinner, tubing, and eating biscuits and gravy. Behold:





Gravy not pictured.

Darn you, winter.

There was a brief period of sunshine this weekend, wherein the boyfriend and I went walking through the park by the river to soak up the few rays available to us.



Isn't he cute?

Today a blizzard struck, and interrupted me from going for a run. Hmph. Ah well, at least we had a little sun!

Coast adventures x 2

Both New Year's weekend and this past weekend included glorious adventures on the Oregon/Washington coasts. Said adventures led to photographic gems such as the following:







Please note the crab feed wonders of crab and beer. My grandpa bought me one beer, which led to me being rather tipsy and chatting up a storm with elderly people I don't know. I'm sure The Boyfriend found my lightweight tendencies amusing.

Leslie: 2009 version

A year in completely unorganized photos:

Yawn.

Last night I spent quality time trying to figure out if an intoxicated Shawna had a concussion after diving through shrubbery and connecting her head with some cement, which led to checking to make sure she was still breathing every 20 minutes as she slept through chaos.

Last night I also panicked after a car crashed into my house at 1 a.m., and I am still amazed that the guy didn't go through the wall.

Last night I really did not sleep much.

Random photos of our fall adventures without any explanation.

Couch!

Shawna and I are now the proud owners of a purple couch. He is very comfy, and we named him Francois.

We also moved him in a minivan, from which it was very difficult for me to escape.

Also, Mini Leslie is taunting me from the sidebar. Yes, I am aware that I have not run since the marathon. That takes a lot out of girl, biotch!

Good night.