Friday, May 29, 2015

6-6-6 & Pesky Pesce

Wednesday night, I was stuck on my floor because that's where I was sleeping for a week before my move in bed thinking about the workout I'd do before my drive. First world problems?

I was debating between time on the stationary bike or a makeshift cardio workout, similar to the one here. I was thinking something along the lines of six exercises for six minutes (one minute each) six times.

I still couldn't decide when I woke up, so I went to Panera to hash it out over some yogurt and coffee. Turns out, at the particular Panera I went to, a medium coffee, banana, and parfait cost $6.66. I took that as a sign.

No, I didn't take this picture. Yes, this was a Google image search. And yes, he does look like he's trying to tempt the photographer with deformed poisonous bagels.

For the past three-ish weeks, I've been on a pescetarian diet. Prior to this decision, I really didn't eat much meat (other than fish) anyway, and the main non-scaled protein I did consume was in the form of fast food chicken or processed deli. Since I was 99% of the way there, I figured I might as well try a pesce diet!

I'm usually not one for deleting food groups or parts of them. I personally think that can lead to a feeling of deprivation and thus backfire, but I'm going in with the understanding that this is just for fun, and I can change my mind anytime I want.

So far, so good.

Then one day, I realized I couldn't eat Chick-fil-A.

I used to live off of their market salad.

So much fruity, cheesy, CHICKEN-Y goodness.

No problem. One meal gone. Fine.

Then I realized I couldn't have my go-to driving snack. Beef jerky.

I almost cried was disappointed yesterday as I was staring at the dangling delights in the gas station.

But here's the kicker, guys...

I moved SOUTH. 

If you're familiar with the area, you will know my pain, as I cannot consume the greatest fried chicken the world has to offer.

Needless to say, this pesce thing may not last long...

Any diets you've tried?
Any diets you've failed?

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Bon Voyage!

Wish me luck!

Yesterday was my last day at my job and my last day in DC. Today I'll wait for the rush hour traffic to die down before making my drive south.

Oh, theBERRY, always giving me those giggles.

Yesterday was also my last physical therapy appointment, and now we wait to see if my new hip issue lessens without professional help... else, I start up another PT regimen.

Electrotherapy at its finest.

I am so incredibly hopeful that this new adventure brings about the happiest of happenings.

I hope I:
  • Return to running (!!!)
  • Continue to foam roll and stretch
  • Get better at yoga

But I also hope I:
  • Remember all that I've learned here
  • Treat people nicely - I don't know their battles - I'm looking at you, crazy, screaming Metro passenger
  • Branch out and try new things

I'm considering my trek a "drive of faith."  I'm not completely ready to depart, but I need to trust the timing of my life (another one of my favorites sayings). I left PT with a new injury that's not totally resolved. I am leaving DC without saying good bye to some folks. I didn't go to the top of the Washington Monument, I never toured the White House, and I didn't even see a celebrity... I know, my life is in shambles.

I am putting all of my trust into God. I am trusting Him to return me to the sport I love without my hand-holding therapist. I am trusting Him that the relationships built here will always be sources of fond memories. And I'm trusting Him that this path I'm forging now is where I need to be in this moment.

What are you dealing with on your "drive of faith?"

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

ABS-solutely Hypocritical

A while ago, I wrote a post on body image emphasizing my belief that we shouldn't discuss women's (or men's) bodies and beauty standards. We shouldn't talk about big bodies, skinny bodies, different bodies, changing bodies, real bodies, fake bodies, etc.

We shouldn't fuel the fire, so to speak, of negative self-image by writing and reading about things that make us rethink how we look. For example, you could be having a great day, a wonderful, feel-good, happy-thoughts day, and you stumble upon an article that says, "WHY MEN PREFER TONED, NOT BUFF, WOMEN."

Immediately, you're triggered. "Am I considered 'buff?' I've been strength training more... I've been seeing more definition in my arms... Am I not appealing now?"

That, my friends, is what I mean by shutting up. That is what I think should stop. And I know what I'm about to dive into might seem a little hypocritical, but...

I guess what I'm trying to say is this is about me, not you. This is something I wanted to share about my own personal journey of self-acceptance. Maybe I'm fueling the fire, but if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. Or rather, click that X in the corner. 

I have been on a five year quest for a six pack. 

For half a decade, I have longed for two rows of three tiny mounds to protrude from my stomach. (Ew, it sounds really gross when stated like that).

I constantly ask myself why? If I'm not in a bikini, I'm not showing off my midsection. No one sees this part of me on a daily basis, so why is it so important that it look like that?

Do I want a six pack as a fitness trophy? Well, that leads to more questions. Do I think that girls with firm, cut tummies are the only ones who are fit? 


Occasionally, I'll look in the mirror in the mornings and see a four pack (those last two are elusive little jerks), but this usually only occurs on mornings after I have an early, light dinner. Then they are gone the MINUTE I drink water or eat breakfast. My abs are so fleeting, why chase them?

Chasing abs is like solving a problem like Maria.

Your core is an amazing area. It holds you all together and drives your strength. It deserves to be loved and appreciated for however it looks. It changes hourly with food intake, dehydration, stress, and other factors, and you know what? It's going to change hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly with life factors. Can you say child birth?

Again, I apologize if this comes across hypocritical, but if you've made it this far down the post, you've stuck with me. Thanks for listening.

No questions, no more fueling. You look pretty today! 

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

This is as much a reminder for me as it is advice for, well, me.

"Will it ever stop?"

This is one of the most frequent questions I've heard throughout my physical therapy stint. Frustrated, desperate patients would implore their therapists to tell them, "Yes, and here is the date."

It doesn't work like that.

I always love theBERRY's inspirational quotes.

Recovery is unpredictable, and we can't hold our therapists to their guesses or estimations.

I truly believe everything happens for a reason, even horrible sports injuries. I think the time it takes to heal, recover, get over, *insert verb here* depends on the time it takes us to learn whatever we were meant to learn from the situation. If we're not done with the circumstance, we haven't learned all we needed to just yet.

We should also focus on the journey, not the outcome. One of my favorite quotes is painted on a piece of wood I own:

"Happiness is not a destination. It is a way of life."

I'll be the first to admit I'm the guiltiest when it comes to wishing for endings. I want to hurry up and get to "the good part." Well, the adventure there IS the good part!

Past break ups have taught me to "smile because it happened" (I know, that's so cheesy). Lame jobs have taught me what I do not want to do with my life. My IT band issue has helped me learn to listen to my body, how to strengthen my core, and how to rest. I've learned to love yoga... and I've sort of gotten good (maybe?) at it!

I don't want to wake up one day when I'm 60 years old and realize that I was constantly wishing my life away.

Enjoy the now! Every bitter, horrible, beautiful, intense, happy, scary, worrisome moment of it!


There are instances where I am quite the opposite, where I do not wish to be done with the process, and those instances are when eating.

I think we can all agree that THAT journey is ALWAYS enjoyed, and the end sucks.

Like my voyage through these boiled shrimp and delicious salad!

Or the conquering of this oatmeal with jalapeno cream cheese and peanuts. Mmmm.

Do you ever find yourself wanting to be through with something?
What's your favorite dish you wish would never end?

Monday, May 25, 2015

Running Flashback

Since I'm in my current state of recovery, I know I haven't written a lot of happy things about running.

SO. Here's a running flashback to my first marathon! I wrote a very lengthy recap a looong time ago, and here are some excerpts. Enjoy!

"[...] and make my oatmeal sprinkled with pretzels. I re-pin my bib 800 times, wrap myself in a blanket, and get in the car. It’s freezing. Well, it’s not actually freezing, but the sun hasn’t come up yet, and it’s in the low 40s.

We get to the course around 6:30, so I have about 45 minutes to wait before lining up.


The deafening silence of the pre-gun hesitation threatens to overwhelm me, but then the gun (air horn) goes off, and so do we. My toes are numb, and I still have goosebumps, but I’m smiling as I pass the cheering crowd and see Mom, Dad, and Joe. A combination of “Mary Katherine,” “Kak,” and “MK” are screamed at me, which makes my smile grow larger; I’m a lot of different things balled into one.

We pass the first mile marker, and I look at my watch. 7:52. Wait. Did we start at 7:42 or 7:44? Am I clocking a 10 minute mile? [...] Oh well, I’ll call it 10 just to be sure I run sub-4. The numbers consume me.

The sun is shining, and it feels wonderful until the wind blows. Suddenly, the course takes a turn, and we’re running a 50 degree incline. The second mile marker comes around, and my Garmin tells me mile 2 took 9 minutes. It’s okay, I was running uphill. I’ll make up for it later.

I pass a runner in a green shirt and black leggings. She looks at me and chokes, “I thought the hard stuff came later!” We all knew about the hill from mile 14 to 17. “Me too…” The corresponding downhill begins, and she plows ahead.

[...] I’m uneasy though. I want to enjoy this race. I want to run for the love of running. My legs feel fresh thanks to the unbearable taper, I’m well hydrated, my breathing is perfect. [Screw] this time thing. I’m running to run.

I decide then I’m going to play tag. There’s a girl in a sports bra a few yards in front of me. You’re mine. Thinking about nothing except matching my foot falls to her shoulder swings, I zero in. Momentarily, I glide to her side and pass. I have no idea what my time was for that mile.

Basking in the glow of my successful tag, I get hungry for another. I pick off a few more, and all of a sudden I see green shirt/black leggings. I stride out a bit to catch up to her. When I do, she calls out, “Awesome job!” “You too!” I say back.


I trek along, looking around at the scenery. On my right, the sparkling New River, and on my left, beautifully cut lawns and giant mountain homes. I continue smiling and feeling strong, and soon I begin to recognize street signs and landmarks; I know we’re closing in on the first loop, and we’ll pass the start soon.


“Coast upwards” is a bit of an understatement. The roads we are running on are literally vertical – the ups slow you to a crawl, and the downs almost barrel you into Hell. This marathon is so small and so difficult, we’ve all spread out and are all basically running by ourselves now. I see the mile 13 marker up ahead and realize I haven’t checked my watch since mile 3. 


There’s a tiny neon green speck in the distance that I follow. I want him to be my next tag, but all my focus is now on getting over these hills. A few more minutes pass, and two more runners come into view. As I gaze ahead, to my horror I see a gradual incline flowing ominously into the horizon. Here goes everything. Instead of focusing on the hill, I focus on playing tag. Suddenly, the runners ahead take a sharp right, leaving the path defined by the outstretching ascent. For about a millisecond, I’m relieved. No more hill! Then reality hits. As I take the turn myself, I’m suddenly faced with the steepest terrain I’ve ever attempted to shuffle over. Not only are we running up a mountain, but the course has changed from a paved paradise to a gravelly monster.


This is so hard. I’m barely running; no one could call this running. No, this is running. This is definitely running. I’m running up a freaking mountain. I’m amazing. I’m so strong. Look at what I’m doing!

“You beasted that hill!” A few spectators have perched at the crest. I smile, but from viewing the map, I know this peak has an identical twin. Down I go, trying not to land my previously pained foot on any rocks. The path curves left and right and left again, and then I see the beginning of the second hill. No thoughts, just do.

This hill goes by more easily than the last, probably because I know from here on out it’s downhill and flat; however, the downhill poses the biggest problem. My breathing unfocused and shallow, I develop a side stitch. [...] The stitch fades, but now my toe starts paining me. Well, that toenail is a goner.

Thinking about form, breathing, toenails and the lack of them, climbs, and strides, I don’t realize how many miles have gone by. Suddenly, a big “20” is staring me in the face.

Disclaimer: in all honesty, miles 20 to 24 kind of blur. A lot of spectators, a lot of aid stations, and lot of “thank yous” from me as I wave my personal water bottle at the offerings. I do remember getting giddy at mile 22 and thinking, “This is uncharted territory! I’ve never run this distance before!” Throughout these four miles, however, I do know that I am happy. Perfectly, completely, undeniably happy.

After I run through the aid station at mile 22, I see a female runner who is clearly in pain. As I pass her, she tells me she’s dying. Quickly, I morph into sports psychologist MK and remind her we have less than 4 miles to go at this point. I try to get her to envision the finish line. She tells me I look good, and I take this as a hint to run along.


Minutes later I’m approaching what can only be the makeshift field-parking lot and the finish. I’m beaming as bikers fly by. “She looked so happy,” one says, astonished. I see cars, hear cheers, and finally make out the numbers on the 26th mile marker. Of course, I start to cry. I hear my name and pick out my mom on the sidelines. “I’m so proud of you! Your Dad and Joe ran to the finish! I couldn’t, but I wanted to be here…” I laugh as she recites a novel to me while I pass.

Suddenly, I’m at a loss for where to go. Do I cut in the grass? I mean, I know where the chute is. I SWEAR, IF MY PERFECT MARATHON ENDS IN CONFUSION…

“Great job! Now you’ll follow the road and turn!”

Thank God for race officials.

Then I see another official standing where I’m pretty sure I need to book it. I give him a concerned look, and he leaps out of the way. I finish with long strides – no need to sprint, I’m going to be strong, not hurried.

Nothing could have been bigger than my smile when I stepped on the mats and grabbed my finisher’s medal.

[...] [T]his was one of the best days of my life."

Friday, May 22, 2015


Oy. Okay. This is a touchy subject, I know, and this has been sitting in my drafts for a while (a while? I've had this blog for like a week), but here goes the "publish."

Body image is big in media these days. Magazines, online articles, and commercials are ripping the issue to shreds.

We read all about THIS WORKOUT THAT WILL GIVE YOU THE MAX CALORIE BURN. And why do we care about calorie burn? To lose weight. Why do we want to lose weight? To look "better."

We also read all about LOVE YOURSELF FOR WHO YOU ARE, CELLULITE AND ALL. Because who wants to constantly look at themselves in the mirror and hate what they see?

And then we see things like REAL WOMEN POSED FOR THIS AD, COME LOOK! So if you're not a string bean, you're real? So if you are a string bean, you're not real?

I have a question - a question that may get backlash, but I'm putting it out there - why do we read about anything at all? Why do we bother talking about women's bodies (or men's bodies... I'm looking at you, Dad Bod fad) at all? Why does it have to be a topic?

This blade of grass is greener. And that one is slightly bent. The one over there is more oval than rectangular. But does it matter? All the blades together make up a beautiful meadow, right? If they were all the same, wouldn't it be like walking over a toothbrush? Ew. (Also, this conversation is making me think of my first post).

I'm saying let's all just shut up. Yes, I know that by writing this post in the first place, I'm doing the opposite, but really, can we just stop? If we talk about beauty standards, then there will be beauty standards.

Let good looks be like Oprah's car giveaway.


Can I get an "Amen?"

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Oat Affair

I was really excited when I saw this post on BuzzFeed about healthy tips - POACHED EGGS!

Regarding #5 - I want to try cauliflower pizza crust.

Regarding #10 - I do this ALL. THE. TIME. I also flavor oatmeal with coffee creamer, M&Ms, cheese, Sriracha, veggies, tuna, regular milk, pepper, cumin, Snickers, protein bars (obviously not all at once ;) ). And the list goes on.

Oatmeal is the most versatile food ever. It is the best breakfast in the world. It adds to the best dinners in the world. It is one of the best snacks. It is the best food. All of these are facts.

If I were stuck on a deserted island and could only have one food, it would be oatmeal.

If I had to pick one food to live off of for the rest of my life, it would be oatmeal.

If I could date a food over a man, I would drop Joe in a heartbeat, screw this long distance nastiness, and go pick up some oatmeal.

I wish society would still accept an adult who ate this. Guys, they hatched. Clearly, I have some sort of egg fetish.

Did (does) anyone else eat this?

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Distance, but Not the Running Kind

Even though I was am (let's not get pessimistic, MK) a long distance runner, the title of my blog has another meaning.

I've been in a long distance relationship for the majority of 2 years and 4 months.

And by "majority," I don't mean 51%. I mean I've been in a long distance relationship for 2 years of those 2 years and 4 months.

Us, right before those 2 years started. Now his beard is almost down to the same length as my hair in this picture. Can you say, "Duck Dynasty?"  

It started off as just a few hours apart. I moved to DC, he was in Virginia. Not bad, eh? Like basically the same thing. You ask people from Arlington where they're from, and they'll say DC. But he wasn't in Arlington... Okay, I digress.

Then he moved to Louisiana for a job. Longish flight, one hour time difference, we made it work... though not all the time.

Our hours are different. I wake up before the sun and sometimes even go to sleep before the sun. He was in New Orleans, so can you guess his hours?

Courtesy of DN Journal, here's a pic of Bourbon Street. Balconies close around 3am. Parties do not.

I despise talking on the phone (what a great trait to have while in an LDR!), so text/g-chat/email/Facebook are our prime modes of conversation.

Do you know how often texts can get misinterpreted? If I had a nickle for every time we got in I started a fight because I thought he was being sarcastic, I wouldn't have to pay for graduate school.

It was AWESOME to visit. I even ran a few races in LA! Unfortunately, we only saw each other about every other month, and it was killer.

Well, guess what!? He has moved again! California. So like, actually across the country.

Crack open an end to a job, pour in a switch to graduate school, sprinkle your boyfriend moving even farther away into the mix, stir, and bake for an hour at 350 degrees. Serving size: one distraught MK.

I know that we'll still fight, and I know that we'll see each other less often. But then again, I'll be in school with holiday breaks and whatnot. It'll be interesting and hard, but we both know that it'll be worth it in the end.

Any LDR-ers?
Any advice?

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Rage Against the [Cardio] Machine: a 30 minute work out for you! No equipment!

When I can't don't have a run planned but want to do cardio, I'm not always feeling up for a machine. I like to create my own little routines, so...


1:00 minute JUMPING JACKS (get jaaaacked)
1:00 minute MOUNTAIN CLIMBERS (ford every stream)
1:00 minute SUMO SQUATS (without the diaper)
1:00 minute RUSSIAN TWISTS - no dumbbell (da! da! da!)
1:00 minute PLANK (you know you love me)
1:00 minute WIDE LEG PULSES (get them calves n’ thighs)
1:00 minute HIGH KNEE JUMPS (skip to my loo, my darlin’)
1:00 minute JUMPING JACKS (yes, again)
1:00 minute FLUTTER KICKS (float like a butterfly, sting like a… sore abdomen?)
1:00 minute TOE SHUFFLES (you’ll need a decent sports bra here)


To make sure you understood what I meant by all of these, or at least had the resources to go find out, I Googled the more unique names.

I give you, Google search toe shuffles:

Thanks, Skechers!

But what I really mean by "toe shuffles" is to stand like you're in a sumo squat but on your toes. Then quicklyquicklyquickly tip toe/bounce/"shuffle," if you will, on your toes... kind of like what the basketball coach does here at 0:24 seconds, but on your toes and super fast... like pumpy and vibrate-y... okay, you know what? Do whatever you want during this minute. Screw it.

Wide leg pulses are in the same stance - sumo squat on your toes - and, well, you basically just sumo squat on your toes, but don't go down as deep. Hence, pulse.

Want to take it up a notch? Do these exercises for 2 minutes! Don't want the whole extra notch but some adjustment? Do these exercises for 1 minute and 42 seconds!

Do you ever make your own workout routines?
Anybody hate interval sessions?

Monday, May 18, 2015

Gee, thanks a lot... But really. Thanks.

It all comes back to Him.

But first! A look into what I like to call "getting your money's worth."

This morning after an intense Bikram sweat sesh, I dripped my way to the nearest Starbucks for some refreshment. Raise your virtual hand if you are familiar with the Protein Bistro Box. If so, you know that contrary to the picture on the website, the peanut butter comes in a baggie.

Normal people may squeeze what they can from a delicate little corner hole.

NOT I. Exhibit A:

Between this and my poached egg eating habits, I don't know what's more embarrassing awesome.

Hokay, let's get to it.

God. He's pretty cool, and He doesn't hesitate to tell you what's what. A few days ago, I told you all about how I really hope my hip issue goes away now that my IT band is feeling better. It's not (well, it might be, and I might just be feeling post-foam rolling soreness, but that's besides the point).

"Proof of Foam Roll," circa 2015

I'm a sucker for signs, and I truly believe God speaks to us all - we just have to listen and be open to what He has to say. Last night, I was playing around online - whaaa? a blogger online? UNHEARD OF! - when my Facebook feed refreshed, and a friend had posted a lengthy status about why we experience weakness and suffering.

My dears, allow me to point you to 2 Corinthians:

"...but about myself, I will not boast, except about my weaknesses [...] Therefore, that I might not become too elated, a thorn in the flesh was given to me [...] to keep me from being too elated. Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ, for when I am weak, then I am strong."

We are nothing without Him. He gives us our abilities, and He can take them away. We are given sufferings to remind us that we need Him; we need to call upon Him and trust Him. We cannot get cocky with our accomplishments or "personal" achievements, because they all come back to Him. We are not self-sufficient (as much as we'd like to believe so).

Lord, thank You for the gentle reminder that I need You always.

No questions for this one. Just reflect, and happy Monday.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Hello, Goodbye, Hello!

Sometimes I consider myself a little nomadic. I've lived in various places for short periods of time (read: internships), and my friend groups change often. I've always been okay with this. I get bored semi-easily, and I like to start new things and new routines. After undergrad graduation, I began a job in DC, and this is the longest I've been not only in one place for an extended amount of time (two years and no breaks like with college) but with the same friends.

Running around DC and the monuments is a great way to start a morning.

Well, that's all about to change.

I'm quitting my job in ten days and moving again to go get my Masters in Kinesiology with a concentration in Sport and Exercise Psychology! I'm so incredibly excited...

...but naturally, as with any move, this transition comes with a lot of uncertainties and insecurities.

Yes, as aforementioned, I've made friends multiple times before. I've adjusted to new places multiple times before. But also as aforementioned, this is the longest I haven't had to do any of that.

What if I've forgotten how?

What if cubicle life sucked the social butterfly out of me?

And on the what-if roll, what if I've forgotten how to study? How to be a student?

I could go on and on.

And it's funny, because these questions are similar to the questions with which I concern myself regarding my running ability. What if this injury has caused me to forget how to run? What if I won't be as good as I used to be?

Pause, MK. Breathe. No one comes out of the womb with the ability to run 26.2 miles, or even 1 for that matter. The process of building up endurance takes time, dedication, and heart. An injury only takes one from you and strengthens the others. But time is relative.

I'll be okay in grad school. It's a new adventure! I have to take it day by day, mile by mile. Adjustment will take time, dedication, and heart, but the adjustment will be made. Change isn't always easy. And there's no point thinking about the finish line before the gun goes off.

Doesn't Runner's World just get us all?

What big changes have you made recently?

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Egg Pros and Workout Woes

Well, I think it's safe to say I have a current obsession with poached eggs (and fruit). It's going to be my summer goal to learn and to perfect the makings of poached eggs.

It's also my goal to perfect the eating of poached eggs.

I have two go-to tactics:

  1. Eat around the yolk at first and then shove the final bite into my mouth, thus resulting in a rush of yellowy goodness from my lips (very attractive).
  2. Break the yolk on the dish and dab up what I can but eventually just lean in and lick the plate clean (slightly less appalling, but still makes people question why they're with me).
Did I mention that both options require an obscene amount of Sriracha? AKA the nectar of the gods?

Also in need of perfection are my jump rope abilities. After discovering that I own a jump rope, in my never ending quest to find cardiovascular activities that don't aggravate my IT band or hip, I decided to do a jump rope-elliptical-stationary bike extravaganza.

In my mind, it would go something like: 5 minutes rope, 15 minutes elliptical, 10 minutes bike, repeat X amount of times.

In actuality, it went something like: flail for 3 minutes with a rope that keeps hitting the ceiling of the apartment gym, fold to decrease the length of the rope, try again, hit the rope with my pony tail because now it's too short, give up and elliptical, realize the elliptical is broken so there is zero resistance, pedal around for 5 minutes, repeat several times, sigh in frustration, answer some text messages, totter on over to the bike.

Don't get me wrong, I worked up a sweat... But it was an exasperating sweat.

Anyone have any poached egg tips and tricks?
Sriracha fans? WE'LL BE BEST FRIENDS.
Work out fails?

Happy weekend!

Friday, May 15, 2015

I hope this is the final exam.

This running injury has felt like a semester-long course. I've learned so much over the past 5+ months that I'll definitely carry with me throughout the rest of my running career.

This past fall, I was training for the Louisiana Marathon in Baton Rouge, LA. The race was scheduled for January 2015, and I was determined to qualify for Boston. The course was fast and flat - and it didn't hurt that my boyfriend lived in New Orleans at the time. Killing two birds with one stone, eh? A visit and a race (I'll let you decide which one I was most excited about ;) ...)

Training was going phenomenally. Let me tell you what, I was hitting paces I didn't think I could!

*Disclaimer: That does not mean they were fast paces by everyone's standards. They were fast for me, and I was proud, and, well, I got addicted to the improvement and the speed... Cue foreboding music.


I won a trail race!

Trailapalooza was so much fun and gorgeous!

I got a shiny new PR for my half marathon time (also in Louisiana... thanks, love, for being my running posse and free hotel)!

These awesome, slightly blurry pics are brought to you by my Instagram, back in action after a brief deletion.

And then things went downhill. I started getting angry with myself if my training runs weren't consistently faster. I was annoyed if I didn't run negative splits.

Early December, I got what was coming to me. Hello, Mr. IT Band! Nice to make your acquaintance!

Not knowing what it was, I still ran. When I couldn't get out of bed take it anymore, I saw a doctor, and he diagnosed me with a tight IT band from overuse, but told me I could probably still run the marathon.

So I did. And I qualified for Boston. When I tell you crossing that finish line in the time needed was one of my happiest moments, I am not lying.

Unfortunately, this wasn't without consequences. My whole left leg needed some serious TLC.

I cried, I biked, I doggy-paddled, and when I still couldn't sit without feeling tightness, I began to see a physical therapist.

I have learned that I cannot incorporate races into my training because I will race the races. Some people can do this, while even others can run races without racing; I cannot. Lesson learned.

I have learned that a common school of thought is that 80% of our training should be easy miles. Your weekly long runs aren't the marathon. It's okay if one week is slower. Lesson learned.

I have learned that comparison is the thief of joy. Looking at slower split times sucked the fun out of the sport. I can't be so hard on myself. Lesson learned.

I have learned to listen to my body when it needs rest. It's smarter than I am, and if I listen to it, it will reward me. Lesson learned.

In the past week, I've returned to running with five minute intervals separated by walking breaks. My IT band is very happy... but my opposite hip is not. Seems I must have been compensating during the injury, because now the right leg hurts.

I really hope this is the final exam of this semester. I will take all the aforementioned knowledge and put it to use - I will not push myself, I will listen to the cry of my hip, and I will be patient. 

Because a few days nursing this tightness is better than repeating the grade, AMIRITE!?

What are your injury lessons learned?
Anyone else a member of the 5 month club?

Thursday, May 14, 2015

25 Thoughts During Yoga

I love yoga. I really do, but meditation just doesn't come easily to me. I envy those who can sit in stillness and silence for more than 2.5 seconds and be at peace... wait, isn't part of yoga about accepting yourself for what you can do? See? Unsuccessful.

I begin each class SO READY to om may way into contentment and self-love, but it never fails that halfway through shavasana, I'm wiggling, looking around, and stressing over what future MK needs to accomplish.

Well, in the spirit of experiencing, noticing, and reflecting, here are 25 thoughts we all I have during yoga class.

  1. Ahhh, chirping crickets and flutes. Peaceful. Eyes closed. Yes.
  2. Oh, the instructor's voice is so calming. 
  3. Ow. First down dog - come on now, work with me, calves. 
  4. That was not a pretty chaturanga. Okay, next one will be better.
  5. Up! Saluting the sun! Hey-o, sun!
  6. Aaaaand back down. *THUD* Alright, my left side isn't having this low push up thing today.
  7. Again? Really?
  8. I swear, I don't even work this hard during a marathon.
  10. If warriors really stood like this, they probably wouldn't be very good warriors.
  11. Why is she so flexible? Do I look that flexible?
  12. ....Did anyone just hear me fart?
  13. Has it been an hour yet?
  14. No, shh MK! You are becoming one with your breath! Breathe!
  15. One foot. Focus, focus... Wobble, WOBBLE.
  16. Stretching feels goooo... Er, did I just touch someone's foot?
  17. Wait, turn to the right or left? Because now this is some serious awk eye contact.
  18. Headstand. I'm standing on my head... Standing on my... Nooooope.
  20. I'm so hungry. What should I have for dinner?
  21. I totally need to do laundry.
  22. I need to set my alarm early tomorrow.
  23. I need to reply to that email tomorrow.
  24. Are we done!? I have so much to do!
  25. Wait, we're done? Namaste? Nah - 'muh stay right here, thanks.
Can anyone relate?

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

The Hook

It doesn't matter what I say,

So long as I sing with inflection

That makes you feel I'll convey

Some inner truth or vast reflection.

But I've said nothing so far,

And I can keep it up for as long as it takes.

And it don't matter who you are.

If I'm doing my job, then it's your resolve that breaks

Because the hook brings you back.

-"Hook," Blues Traveler

One of my favorite songs, and I felt like it was fitting for my first blog installment. 

For some reason - well, not for some reason, for the reason that I am who I am - I've been putting a lot of pressure on myself to come up with an awesome debut post; a hook, if you will. I want to come across funny, I want to come across witty, I want you to appreciate and agree with every single word I type.

Sounds a bit dictator-ish.

But I've read enough of the blog world to know that you won't always think I'm funny or witty, and you'll definitely not always agree with what I say. In fact, some of you will agree with so little that you'll leave comments telling me so.

And there lies the root of why it's taken me so long to actually create a blog myself and become part of this community that I know and love - insecurities.

A few months ago, I got rid of my Instagram because it wasn't making me feel very good. I'm a long distance runner, and I got hurt (that's a whole 'nother blog post comin' atcha soon...), and seeing the Insta-runners post their Garmin shots and split times made me feel, well, like shit.

I felt like an outcast, like I was kicked to the shunned curb of that golden sidewalk where I so longed to plod for miles and miles. I felt as if I was no longer a runner. 

That's when I lived vicariously through you all for a bit, reading up on your athletic adventures, and I wanted to become one of you, but insecurities held me back. Did I really have anything to say? What if my life is too boring? What if I said something wrong and upset someone? What if the comments are mean? What if I work out too much? What if I work out too little? What if someone thinks one of my healthy meals isn't healthy? What if, what if, what if...

*Side note: Someone is singing horribly on the balcony next to my apartment. It's really distracting when I'm trying to be all deep and stuff.

I wasn't sure if I had anything to add to this hashtag-fitness-life world. 

And then I thought about what a crap view that was and how wrong it is.

We all have something to add because we are all different. And that's the beauty of not thinking I'm funny or witty or agreeable. If that was the case all the time, we'd all be the same and would have no need for this community. We would have one blog to rule them all, one blog to find them... 

We all have different fitness paths and different training cycles. Sarah's chapter 7 of life shouldn't read the same as Jenny's. We have opinions, we all go through ups and downs, and we all choose to share what we choose to share.

So I'll ask you now...

What insecurities did you overcome with blogging?
What turned you to your blog?

...yeah, don't answer that last one.

I get a ton (all) of my pictures from theBERRY.