Gratitude

All morning we’ve been watching the clouds blow in and out, teasing us with notions of the pool and then stealing them away again.  We’ve decided to risk it once the Rooster awakens from his nap and for this, the older monkeys are grateful.

I am grateful as well.  It means escape from the house and adult conversation and at least a little sunshine here and there – three things this FitQueen requires for her sanity.  But it also means the thousand little preparations: finding clean bathing suits (not always easy due to my severe distaste for putting away laundry), packing snacks that will appeal to all and not rot if they are forgotten, remembering things like sunscreen, clean towels (again with the laundry issue), and myriad “guys” for the Rooster.  Oh – and goggles and the blanket.  Then it’s the piling into the van, the piling out, and the lugging of the stuff.  The frantic attempts to keep the Rooster with me while I get everyone/thing set up and the frantic chasing of the Rooster while he follows the big kids around.

And it is this way for every mom at the pool.  I am not special in any of these instances.  What makes it different for me is knowing I am on the verge of an EBV flare up.  How do I know this?

Let’s check the list, shall we?  Irritability – check.  Slight fatigue – check.  Tingling fingers and toes, dizziness, insomnia, and bouts of nausea – check, check, check, and check.  And the overly emotional state of being that has me in sniffles over, well…just about everything?  Check.  Not being totally enthused about a possible outdoor run is a huge sign for me.  I live for those workouts, especially the ones that take me outside.  I’m already digging for motivation and coming up short.  Which tells me the fatigue may be more than slight.

It isn’t awful yet.  Yet.  But I’ve been through the cycle enough to know what’s coming if I don’t get a handle on it fast.  No processed stuff.  Early bedtime.  Choosing between the run and the lifting session instead of doing both (which was another reason to get all emotional.  I mean, how does one simply choose between an outdoor run and leg day?????).  Knowing what to do empowers me while at the same time pushing that lump into my throat.  Because the one thing I dislike more than putting away clean laundry is seeing my own limitations on an ever-closer horizon.

So boo and hoo and all that jazz.  Woe is me and whatnot.  I tell you this not to gain sympathy but to try and make you understand, because I know I am not the only one.  People certainly do not look at me with all my posts about double workouts, distance running, and event training and think, “Oh, poor girl.  She’s really ill.”  And most of the time – I’m really not.

But give me repeated offenses (poor food choices on a daily basis, even if it’s just once a day; lack of sleep due to Paul McCartney being on The Colbert Report, even if it’s just an extra 30 minutes) and I know I’m sending myself back down a road I would rather not travel.  It’s my own fault.  I get that.  I may know my limits but I don’t always pay attention to them.  Mostly because I’d just rather not.  There’s far too much to do and no one else does it right.

There are others out there – gorgeous, beautiful, healthy-looking others – that go through this very same thing.  There are bad days and then there are really bad days.  But there are also enough incredibly great days that the illnesses get nearly forgotten – by everyone else.  Never by us; that is always sitting in the background somewhere, whispering.  I know when I’m pushing too hard even before the symptoms hit.  I simply choose to ignore it because I want to smash everything into the good days just in case there’s a really bad day ahead.  Sometimes they come even when I stick to my Paleo plans and I take my rest days and I ask for help around the house.

I’d kinda rather push and push and push and take advantage of the energy I have.  I don’t want to squander it with resting when I’m not sure if I’ll have any left over tomorrow.

I was blessed to come across an article written by a woman with Lupus that expressed so much of what I feel on a daily basis that I was in tears within the first two paragraphs.  And it got me thinking how lucky I am that I only deal with EBV, and that I really only deal with it sometimes.  It may truly suck on occasion, it could always be worse.

I mean, I’m running marathons and OCR’s and color runs.  I’m swimming with my kids and going to their baseball games and going on hikes.  I am rarely completely limited by my virus – and for that, I am grateful.

It’s All Good

I ran 8.33 at a 9:30 pace this morning.  As I accept your kudos and adulation for my PR, I’d like to thank my mama, Elvis, and my homie B12.

I was weary at the start.  It took me all morning to get myself together and out the door.  Then BAM!  I hit that magical 30-minute mark and my legs felt strong.  My lungs felt full.  My head felt clear.  I threw intervals to the wind and just ran.

I felt so fantastic I wanted to leap and skip and twirl to show my sheer joy at feeling like me.  I contented myself with running faster.  (Notice all the italics in this post?  Because I feel very emphatic today.)  The sun was shining.  I was dressed appropriately for the weather (I have a slight learning disorder when it comes to proper attire for cold/warm/in-between temps).  My iPhone provided just the right shuffle of songs.  ‘Twas a fine day to be running.

I ran downhill.  I ran uphill.  And the uphill felt good.  I relished the strong push of my muscles as I climbed those hills, each one faster than the last.  I celebrated each strong breath I took as I travelled up those inclines.  The scenery is green again; I caught the scent of lilacs from a few yards and enjoyed the wilder vegetation as I ran further from developments and traffic.  I also realized I watch too many crime shows when I caught myself thinking, “This would be a great dumping ground for a body.”

I swear, I have no murderous plans (at the moment…).

Now I am home and RAVENOUS.  I already downed a pouch of tuna (I was too hungry to make an actual salad) and am currently chowing on not one but two baked sweet potatoes (granted, they are baby-sized).  I’ll finish, shower the running stink off me, and mix up my Shakeology.

What I’m trying to say, FitPeeps, is that this – THIS – is a FABULOUS Saturday.

I am healthy.  I have energy.  My firstborn is 9 years old today.  We have a quality family time planned, and I’ll probably eat some cake.

Ain’t much can top all that.

A Day In The Life

What’s life like with Epstein-Barr, you ask?

Okay, so you didn’t ask.  But I feel like telling you so you can further understand all the levels of my awesomeness.  (Yes, there are levels.)

I’m tired a lot.  Not I-need-my-morning-mud-baby-kept-me-up-insomnia kind of tired.  I know those tired’s like the back o’ my hand.  It isn’t even anemia-level-fatigue.  This tired trumps even what I believed to be the king daddy of tired – New Baby Tired.  It’s all the way down to my bones, reaching its long scaly fingers reaching deep into my brain and making thoughts confusing and muddled.

There are days (like today) when I feel continuously disoriented and dizzy.  You know that head rush you sometimes get when you stand up too quickly?  Extend it.  I can curl up in bed when the toddler naps, but then it’s like the drunk spins, just without the fun prior.

I am eating clean (yeah, so I ate pizza and Samoas last night.  Stop spying on me.) and getting my suggested 7 to 8 hours of sleep each night.  I’m drinking my water and limiting caffeine.  I’m in the taper phase of marathon training, so workouts are down.  I go every Friday morning for my B12 shots, which take effect two to three days after administered.  I am doing what I am supposed to do.

But sometimes, I wanna do more.  And that is when I get frustrated and moody and quite crybabyish.  I don’t like running slow.  I don’t like sitting in my bed, imagining that the contractors are rolling their eyes over what they believe is pure Peggy Bundy laziness.  I don’t like just running and doing squats or not playing outside with my kids or struggling to follow Hubby’s report of his day.  I don’t like it because that’s not me.

So some days, I fight a little harder through it.  Like today.  I guzzled some Energy & Endurance formula (you want samples? I got samples. Email me.) and got to work cleaning.  That felt okay so I changed into workout gear and switched on the treadmill.  I ran five miles with a 9:45 pace.  That felt fan-fuckin’-tastic.

Now it’s post-run, post-shower, post-school pick-up.  I’m sneaking an extra cup of coffee and another serving of Shakeology in hopes that’ll get me through the rest of the evening (tonight’s the big Academic Achievement Fair at school and both older kiddos have projects to show off) without growing fangs or flaunting my extreme powers of bitchiness.  Because now I am tired and dizzy and dumb again.

I know I’m still in here, somewhere.  I see me every time I run and hit that zone.  I like that me.  I like her a lot.  The thing is finding her and keeping her.  So I’m working on that, and trying not to over-Google Epstein-Barr (because there is also hypochondriac-me and neurotic-me, and those bitches can agonize).  Instead, I’m focusing on the stuff that heals me: sleep, nutrition, simple fitness.

That, and David Boreanaz.  He heals me, too.

Oh, Sealy…

Raising the (Epstein) Barr…

So I got my first round of results back.

As far as my CT scan, my doctor tells me – and I quote – my brain is “perfect.”

As if that’s news to us, am I right? (ba-dum-dum)

What I do have, and the reason I’ve been developing such a close relationship with my bed, is (and again I quote) “off the chart levels of Epstein-Barr” (see? even my diseases are AWESOME).  I vaguely recall hearing this term somewhere, sometime…but the only mental image I can conjure is this:

I don’t think this has any bearing on my current situation, however.  So I ask questions: What the hell is that? And what are you gonna do about it?

It is what I have: fatigue, confusion, insomnia, cold sweats, decreased alertness, earaches, trouble concentrating…

What was I talking about again?

(That’s a joke, right there, folks.)

Eating clean before my run

And what is my doctor gonna do about it?  Well, for the next two months, I’ll have the sheer joy of weekly B12 shots.  Got my first one Friday morning and for half of a second thought, ‘Wow. Not even a pinch.’  Then I felt it hit my veins and well…ouch.  Then again, I’m a total pansy when it comes to shots.

I also wanted to know what I can do about it.  Turns out, I’m already doing a lot of it.  Clean eating.  Drinking lots of fluids and getting lots of rest.  Keep taking my vitamins and listen to my body.  So maybe I don’t always do that last one, but I am paying more attention now.  For instance – when I’m training, and I feel that wall, I allow myself to walk even if it’s not a scheduled walking interval.  It happened pretty frequently on today’s run, and while incredibly frustrating, this approach allowed me to log a tad over 5 miles and do so at a fairly good pace (under 11 minutes). 

Let me be clear: this is not a moment of “I kinda don’t feel like running right now and I’m gonna use my new diagnosis as an excuse.”  Haven’t we already established that this FitGal doesn’t do excuses?  I am even more determined now that I was before (didn’t think it was possible, did ya?).  I am even more aware of my body’s limits than I’ve ever been.  It is a different level of fatigue and exhaustion that does not simply come from training.  Imagine you are running through wet cement while also hauling gallon jugs of wet cement and breathing air of wet cement.  Pretty close approximation.

Still…those moments are not continuous, nor are they often enough to make me bail on my run or the six months of training I’ve put in.  This could be a perfect out for the upcoming marathon.  Or it could be one of my proudest moments and greatest lessons for my children.  I choose proud and great.

I’ve discussed the diagnosis with the kiddos and explained what Mama needs from them (mainly, quiet and unquestioning obedience – hold on…I’m laughing so hard I just choked on my own spit).  I’ve also discussed my plan of action.  As in, here’s what’s going on and here’s what I’m going to do about it.  So they know that yeah, shit happens.  But we’re all pretty capable of finding a shovel to get out of the steaming pile.

This…this is ME.

The frustration will still be there tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…It’ll be there until I can run and not worry that I will run out too far and have to call Hubby to bring me back because I just couldn’t make it.  Until I am back outside with the fam playing catch and flying kites and pushing scooters.  Because that’s me.  The soft lump that just needs to sleep in the middle of a gorgeous spring afternoon – she’s a stranger and I don’t like her much.

By the way – this virus is COMMON.  If you have the symptoms – GET CHECKED OUT.  And for the love of fitness – EAT WELL, SLEEP WELL, and TREAT YOURSELF WELL.  That’s how we’ll all GET WELL.

*For a more scientific explanation, check out these links:

http://www.doctoroz.com/videos/secret-life-epstein-barr-virus

http://www.localhealth.com/article/epstein-barr-virus

http://www.cdc.gov/ncidod/diseases/ebv.htm

Run, Baby, Run

Dear Running,

I don’t remember when I first fell in love with you.  It may have been the first time I crested that hill near the open field that always seems bathed in that magical golden light.  It may have been when I first forgot about intervals, so lost was I in forward motion and my legs working with my lungs working with my arms working with my heart.

Or maybe it was when I first awoke to just how far you could take me.  Not just the miles, but the pride and the accomplishment and the self-discipline.  I began going farther and faster and doing things people told me I could not do.  I became something I never thought I’d be: a runner.

I look back on my 20’s and even my early 30’s and all the ways I attempted to soothe my soul.  I wish I would have known you then.  I wish I could trade those mornings going to bed at 5 a.m. for waking at 5 a.m.  I wish instead of running out for a pack of smokes I would have just been running.  That I could trade the late nights for early mornings; the hangovers for 5k’s; the walks of shame for runs of triumph. 

Things between us have been touch-and-go lately.  It takes more effort to drag these bones out on the road and even more effort to keep them there.  I have put you off more and more, finding excuses that really don’t amount to much more than “I’m just too tired.”  But last weekend…that long run in the sunny afternoon…that brought me back to the start.  I found myself running through intervals just because it felt right to do so.  I caught myself smiling for seemingly no reason at all.  I found myself getting choked up when I realized that finally…finally…running felt like something I was supposed to be doing instead of something I had to do.  I went for that run and found what I’d been searching for for weeks, maybe even months; I’ve lost track of time lately.

I found me.  I found the me that delights in my quads pushing me uphill; my lungs handling exertion with ease; my mind thinking clearly and energetically.  It was a brief moment; one run will not erase the ailments.  But it did postpone them for a time.

And I fell in love with you all over again.  In love enough to suffer treadmill training all week long so I can get back out there and do it again this weekend.

I will lace up my Newtons and strap on my armband; tie my kerchief and snap on my fuel belt.  I will probably have to give myself a pep talk all morning long – or just look at the photos and listen to the playlist from last weekend.  Doesn’t matter how it happens, just that it happens.

 

I’m Not Dead Yet

I was all set to do my big 1-8 this past Sunday.  I had my fuel belt stocked with dates, a Larabar, and water.  Clean kerchief tied around my head and my favorite running pants were even laundered.  But the prep didn’t help me out in the motivation department.  I was reluctant to leave for two reasons: 1) I had to tear myself away from prime quality time with the kiddos while we cheered and booed the Kid’s Choice Awards and 2) running has just plain sucked monkey balls lately.

I still have a few moments when I catch myself smiling at the wonder of my legs and the gorgeous nature all around me.  They’re just few and far between the moments when my lungs are caving in and my body is moving through cement.  It may be a few weeks yet before I get any real results, but in the meantime, I had something of a solution: a return to (mostly) clean eating without the (mostly) business.  I am on Day 10 of my SweatItOut Whole30Challenge, but only Day 3 of absolutely NO cheating.  I do feel better.  I made it through the entire morning (which included a trip to the pediatrician’s office for a not-so-well Bear) with nary a yawn or a pause to catch my breath.  I even managed to hold an intelligent and witty conversation with another adult.  I made it into early afternoon before my body said, “Nu-uh.  We’re done now.”

So I took a nap.  I ain’t ashamed.

And now I feel moderately myself again.  Which is good, because I am scheduled to run as soon as Hubby walks through the door.

Which brings me back to Sunday and the 18-that-became-15.8.

I chose a long run day to change up my fueling system.  I wanted to stick to the Whole30 ideals and ditch my Gu for all natural dates with a Larabar for backup.  Well, that was just dumb.  I got heartburn, felt nauseous, and couldn’t eat more than the three I had at the end of my first hour.  Which means I ran nearly two more hours with no extra fuel (the Larabar was far from appealing as well).  Also, I ran outta water.  I must get a four-bottle belt soon because two just ain’t cuttin’ it.

I slogged my way through more than 13 miles before I started toying with the idea of calling Hubby to pick me up.  But I kept thinking of a post on the SweatItOut fan page where I had declared my intent of 18 miles, only to be assured by some fabulous gals that I would indeed rock that distance.  I had to press on.  The last thing I wanted to do was admit defeat.  It was around 14.5 miles that I started experiencing tunnel vision and staggering into the middle of the road.  It was yet another half mile or so before I really felt the time had come for backup.

Hubby came to pick me up, my white knight in dirty minivan.  I felt awful and drained for the remainder of the day.  This was not my recollection of training for Run for the Red last year.  I signed up for another marathon because I had such fond memories of running through the shade of spring leaves; soaking up the sunshine even on chillier days; bursting with pride when I continually farther and longer distances.  I remember too the shin splints and the knee pain; the blackened and then missing toenails; the stomach cramps and sore muscles.  But what really sticks in my head is my love for running.

I need to find that again.

So tonight’s run will be short.  It will be slow.  I will listen to a book instead of music to make certain I do not pick up speed.  I will walk when I reach my interval breaks instead of running through them.  I will look at the early evening light and notice the beauty around me.  I know I still have it in me, buried beneath worries about pacing and the recent Body Betrayal (that’s what I’ve decided to call it for now).  The key is relaxing enough to rediscover the love.

My training isn’t over for many weeks yet.  I still have time to change the direction.  And I said I was gonna, so I am.

You Say It’s Your Birthday?

Today was my Official Day One of Shaun T’s Birthday Challenge.

Which means…

I was planning on starting another round of Insanity to improve my cardio and my endurance, and my start date happened to coincide with an awesome challenge from the man himself.  Seems Shaun T is doing his own program and posting about it every day – plus running a kick ass contest.  Post before’s and after’s according to the page rules and you’re entered to win a surprise visit – at your home – from Shaun T!  I don’t even care that my house is 8,000 years old and looks 12,000 years old.  I wanna have those abs in my house.

So I took that rather humiliating before shot.  Humiliating because just as I was beginning to recover from multiple holiday binges, I dove right into multiple Girl Scout cookie binges.  My lower body responded as though it had been held in by an invisible girdle that was quickly removed.  On the optimistic side, now I am even more motivated to stick to my stricter Paleo menu alongside Insanity alongside marathon training.

Plus, Insanity doesn’t kill my shins the way my training currently does.  (I have a meeting on Friday to learn more about kinesiology taping.  In the meantime, runs are slow and short and I’m wearing compression sleeves like they’re the latest runway trend.)  Added bonus?  The Werewolf joined me this morning and kept me motivated and smiley for the entire 40 minutes of Plyometric Cardio Circuit – even when I had to take a break during the second circuit (holy arm failure, Batman!).  My shins felt perfectly fine; I was able to complete more than I had expected; I got out of bed in time to do it before morning chaos.  It was great!

Then I stole some running time while the boys were quiet (the Werewolf was struck down with the same bug I’ve been fighting within an hour of finishing his workout – during which, he felt great).  I felt fabulous through that first 1.5 miles.  And then – something began attacking my shins.  Typically, it is only when I walk that I experience the twinges.  This was an all-out offensive during my run interval.  Which could change my training more than I’d like.

Stay posted, FitPeeps.  Cross your fingers for me.  And if ya have any tips on dealing with shin splints, please share ’em.  I’m ready to try anything – except not running…

😉

A Slow Freak

It looks scared, doesn’t it?

How far away is the Pittsburg Marathon?

As I’m writing this…

68 Days.  17 hours.  46 minutes.  30 seconds.

29…28…27…

And now begins my slow freak…You know how one day your tire looks a tad low and then suddenly, it’s just completely flat?  Well…I have sprung a slow freak as opposed to a slow leak.

I’m not in total freakout mode yet.  But I do experience mild panic at the beginning of every run now as my brain races to calculate pace times, miles missed, and hotel accomodations.  There are simply too many thoughts pressing into my brain at once.  Something has to give and by something, I mean my sanity.  I get short of breath, my heart pounds, my stomach gurgles.  And none of it has anything to do with the actual exercise I’m performing at the moment.

It’ll get worse.  It will build steadily throughout the next few weeks, cresting just before my 20-mile excursion and disappearing almost completely once I complete it.  At least, that’s how it went down the last time.  Each new run will see me beginning with jerky movements, ragged breathing, and much adjusting of my earbuds and armband.  I will worry that I’ve over/underdressed; that I have brought along too much/too little water/Gu/E&E; that I’ve worn the wrong socks (knee socks don’t have the cushion and ankle socks don’t have the warmth); that I am running too fast for a proper recovery and too slow to keep up with my marathon buddies.  I will overanalyze every twinge of the shins and knees, agonize over the absence of portapotties along my route, and berate myself for not hydrating enough.

Then the 20-miler will be tucked neatly under my fuel belt and I will return to my regular cocky self, scoffing at all previous worries.  Any time I falter, I can take out those 20 miles and mentally pet them like an imaginary rabbit’s foot.  A brightly dyed pink one, because I’m a strong woman runner.

I thought I would be able to skip this portion of the training this time around, seeing as how I’ve already done the marathon thing before.  Then I got shin splints, stomach bugs, and a hectic schedule – and enough missed runs that the slow freak was well on its way before I even realized anything was amiss.  Now that I know, it’s still gonna continue.  Any attempt at controlling the slow freak will only result in a quicker spiral.  Type A me is a stubborn gal and she will have her panic attack one way or another.  It’s best just to let it wash over me, bang out that extra long run, and have it done with.

And then the runs can be fun again and the race and mini-trip can be exciting.

Until I hit that starting line and my bladder begins playing “Do I or Don’t I?” all over again.

Finders, Keepers

Bless the Hubby and the sleeping Rooster, I got to run outside today!

It was slow goin’ even before I left the house.  I planned on a 1:00 pm leave time and didn’t start out until closer to 2:00.  Last year, I had a routine when it came to suiting up for those cold weather jaunts.  I knew where my gear was and exactly what I needed.  This year, I’m wandering about like a confused bag lady, snatching up this and that, unsure what will be useful and what will be extra baggage.  Fortunately, my E&E kicked in and my brain cleared enough for me to dress myself appropriately.

But even those first few moments were slow and painful.  Actually, the first 45 minutes felt as though I was running underwater while breathing glass.  In an effort to be kind to my shins, I took my prescribed walk breaks (I stuck to 3:1 intervals for the majority of the run, only running through when I finally fell into my zone).  Whether it’s an overuse of the treadmill or a crash and burn of the diet sort (I’ll get to that in a moment), my body simply felt tired and used up for that first 45.

For most of our mini-vacation, I set a very good example for clean eating.  I ate the food we packed.  I drank my Shakeology.  Even when we dined out, I ordered Paleo-friendly dishes.  Then came my perfect storm.

My two older monkeys spent the night at their bio dad’s house.  It’s a good thing, but I always miss them terribly.  We’ve been the Three Musketeers for five years now, and splits are always tough on mama.  Add in the fact that – *Warning! I am about to discuss “female stuff” – it’s that time o’ the month, we had just arrived home after a week away and a full day of wrestling, and I was beyond exhausted and emotionally drained…and there you have it.  My perfect storm.  I sent the Hubby for treats and lo, he did provide.  Chocolate, ice cream, and much salty goodness in brightly colored wrappers.  The foods I typically sneer at, I devoured until my belly hurt and my soul felt soothed.

Today, I felt like the crap that goes into those foods.  Bleh.  But I refuse to wallow.  Moving forward, I must not cave, but I will not feel any guilt over this digression.  It aided to the general suckiness of those first 45, I am certain.  But again, that suckiness evaporated just as magically as it always does.

Because I finally found it.  My zone, my zen, my love of running.  I smiled at drivers, at dogs, at people walking dogs.  I snuck loving glances at my neon-covered feet and bopped my head to the music.  I felt that little twinge of disappointment when I realized my time on the road was coming to a close.  It was enough that I am already looking forward to my runs next weekend.  So I found it, and I’m keeping it.  In the words of my toddler, it’s MINE.  MY zone.

Oh – and my shins feel fabulous.  I know you were wondering.

 

Gettin’ In Gear

Today was my first day out with my new gear from a recent trip to my running haven, Aardvark Sports Shop.  When I was there this past Friday, I picked up my very first pair of compression sleeves (pink tie-dye because I knew my daughter would love them), two pairs of Balega socks (on clearance!), new earbuds (my old ones are busted), and a mint chocolate Clif bar (I was hungry).  I also had my new Columbia base layer and a Buff head/neck wrap from Sunday’s trip to Cabela’s.  That’s a lot of sampling to do.  And here’s what I thought of my new stuff.

1.  Zensah Compression Sleeves

I’ve been dealing with some slight shin pain for a few weeks now, and while it never lasts for more than a few hours, it makes me more than a little paranoid.  I’ve had full-blown shin splints before and it’s not something to which I’m partial.  So I’ve been running a little slower, stretching a little more, and worrying pretty much all the time.  My Type A brain is obsessing over missed mileage while practical me is thinking rest is best.  So I took the question to my SweatItOut Facebook page and the response was unanimous: compression sleeves.  Now that I’ve worn them overnight for three nights and through my run today (8 miles), I am firmly in the sleeved camp.  Not so much as a twinge.  My sweet little shins feel fantastic!  I highly recommend snagging a pair if you’re planning on any serious mileage increase.  I wish I would have known about them at this time last year.

http://www.compressionsport.com/zensah/?gclid=CL-O6siIwbUCFUWd4AodBl8Alg

2.  Balega Socks

These are quite simply the BEST SOCKS IN ANY TIME, ANY UNIVERSE – EVER.  I love them even when I’m not running.  Soft and cushy, they keep my feet comfy and dry through any run.  When I found them in the clearance section, I couldn’t resist bringing home a few more pairs.  Get some now.  Thank me later.

http://www.balega.com/

3.  Yurbuds

I have always had difficulty with earbuds.  They consistently fall out and/or leave me with sore ears.  As I detest working out without music or audiobooks, this has left me in quite a quandry.  I thought I’d found as good as I could get with my last pair (can’t recall the brand, but they were of the wrap-around-the-ear variety), which stayed put, but still left me with some discomfort.  As I was checking out at Aardvark, I noticed the display and asked my favorite sales guy if he had used them.  Turns out he had and was quite enthusiastic about the brand.  One of the things I love about the local running shop is the my ability to try everything in the store before I plunk down my cash.  Even earbuds.  He measured my ear canal and recommended a size, which I inserted and twisted to lock (check the link below and it’ll all be clear).  I jumped in place, swished my head back and forth, did a light stationary jog.  Lo and behold, they remained just where I’d put them.  And did the same through my run today.  Bonus – no soreness!  I love them.  I love their hot pinkness and their incredible functionality.  I have found my brand.

http://yurbuds13.reachlocal.net/?utm_source=ReachLocal&utm_medium=Search&utm_campaign=Yurbuds

 

4.  Cool Mint Chocolate Clif Bar

I don’t always eat prepackaged protein bars, but when I do, it’s usually a Clif Bar.  And from now on, if I can get my sweaty paws on it, it’ll be of the Cool Mint Chocolate variety.  Tasty.  Filling.  Five stars.

5.  Columbia Base Layer

As I seem to have misplaced my Under Armour shirt from last winter and I prefer not to wear Hubby’s camo for every run, I was in need of a new base layer.  This was within my price range so I bought it.  I love it.  The thin fabric belies its warmth on wintry runs, and today’s run was particularly wintry what with its blustery winds and frigid temperatures.  It has something to do with the little heat reflective dots on the inside of the shirt.  The dots work.  It’s also moisture wicking, so there’s that added plus.  The fit was great; it was comfortable; it lived up to its claims.  Another five stars.

http://www.columbia.com/Women%27s-Baselayer-Midweight-Long-Sleeve-Top/AL6654,default,pd.html

6.  Buff HeadWrap

I had checked this out on several occasions, always stopping short of purchase because, quite frankly, I didn’t like the patterns or colors offered.  It looked like something I could certainly use (keeps you cool in summer and warm in winter, has multiple ways it can be worn, and is moisture wicking), but they’re downright ugly.  When the price dropped below $12 and I still hadn’t found anything elsewhere, I decided I no longer cared how unpretty it was.  Turns out, it was another fantastic buy!  I settled on the least offensive of the sale-priced wraps, a drab army green, and thought with what with that icy wind, today would be a fine day to test it.  I was correct.  And it held true to the advertising.  My neck (and lower half of my face when the wind got truly cantankerous) stayed warm and dry.  Despite having a weird phobia about my breathing, I got over my slight panic when I first covered my mouth and nose when I realized the fabric was so thin, it didn’t feel obtrusive in the slightest.  I am actually going to purchase more of these to have on hand, that’s how much I like it.

http://www.buffwear.com/

So that’s it, folks.  There’s my review of my stuff.  I loved it all.  And I’m still in love with my Newtons.