One Day at a Time

At 8.30 am I woke to the sound of my alarm clock. I was due on placement at 10 am but on Wednesday I almost passed out because the office has no air conditioning. Today it’s even warmer than Wednesday so there was no way that I was going to sit in an office a green house and sweat my life away… not for anybody.

But I didn’t go back to bed, no. I got up and pottered around the house for a bit. I replied to endless amounts of e-mails, and went through my reader at a fairly slow pace. Then I decided to check my bank balance. What a way to depress you into oblivion.

I have $45 to last me until Monday. I have petrol to buy, and my phone bill to pay. This leaves me with $3 for the whole weekend. Go me? I resigned myself to the fact that I’d just spend the time doing cheap things i.e. gardening, reading, and crawling under the covers. But wait. Then I opened my little budget spreadsheet, and felt even more depressed.

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Horribly Uncomfortable

Since the birth of my fitness loving alter ego “Pe Tank Ass” – being physically active without limits has been something I’ve strived for. Though I have a pretty sweet home gym set up going on in my basement, housing stacks of plates, barbells, racks, benches, and the like, last year I kind of went bat crap for running, and in turn, I am now 3 months out of my first ultramarathon.

Not just run in a straight line ultramarathon either. Big ass mountains and stuff. Finishing this 50k in under 8 hours is supposedly a rockin’ time. So, I qualified for this in October and committed the week after. Fast forward to a month later where I busted my ankle to high hell and spent my month where I was supposed to be acclimating to the weather and starting ultra training instead I was gimping around and eating anything that didn’t eat me first.

Fast forward to the end of December when I decidedly was healed, but running outside for long distances was neither productive or pleasurable. Fast forward to today where I still am trying to come to terms with the fact that I will be training at the YMCA on days when the temperature is below 35 degrees.

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Axis of A

Imagine  a picture of Alaska. Arkansas looks much the same, except for the glaciers and jagged 14,000′ peaks. It’s a lovely picture, and if you click on it, you can see a larger version. It’s worth it. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

When the gracious Fox asked if I would write a guest column, I was thrilled to the icy core of my Alaskan heart. Actually, in Alaska, our hearts don’t beat, just ooze enough anti-freeze to oxygenate our brains.

She asked what my topic would be. I searched my mind, and figured it out – the Axis of A. Arkansas, Alaska, heck, these states were made to be blogged about together. So, I did a quick list: how are these states the same? I’ve actually visited Arkansas once, and so consider myself an expert on everything Arkansan. That made it easy to compile this list:

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The Consequences of “Fitness”

I look back on the past 5 months of my life, and I really don’t even know how to go about putting together a coherent post about what I really want to say.
It all started with a self imposed social media hiatus. This was a long time coming, as I had been using blogging, twitter, and everything in between to fuel some really poor habits. I think maybe more than a few people can relate to this, so I will put it bluntly, and I will put it honestly.

There is so much more to life than trying to be the fittest person on the planet.

Over the past few years, I watched myself transform from a severely overweight girl who was depressed, lacked the confidence to thrive, and had a horribly fucked up relationship with food to… A thin, more muscular, depressed girl who lacked the confidence to thrive and had a seriously fucked up relationship with food and working out.

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Cross Country Time!

I have been really struggling this winter to get my head on straight, stay motivated, and not just disappearing underneath a sea of blankets and fluffy bathrobes in favor of being my normal active self.

The ankle injury obviously gave me a great excuse to just work/sleep/eat/sleep for a minute, but since then I’ve been having a hard time wanting to do anything.
My post about trying to ultra train in the gym – when I looked back at that a day later, all I could think was, no wonder. No wonder I’m welling with ultra doubts. No wonder I am dreading training. No wonder I am fairly bitchy anytime I’m not eating or sleeping.

Ultra for me means not only pushing myself in an athletic endeavor but adventure. There really is nothing too adventurous about running on a treadmill unless you do it backwards. The adrenaline rush of climbing a hand over foot hill doesn’t even begin to translate to a jaunt on the stair stepper.

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