Continue reading »

Last spring I was strolling through my neighborhood Target, when I saw a super cute running SKIRT with a matching tank on the end of an aisle. I have always run in Under Armour pants (even in the ridiculous Atlanta heat), mainly because I hate having to constantly pull my shorts down as I run (and they slowly creep up) or chaff my legs. I tried some one, and was very surprised to see they were not only cute, but they were comfortable, too! I bought one outfit that I figured I could walk my dog in, but I still wasn’t sold on the idea of “running” in them. It was a short skirt, with spandexy shorts underneath. It was NOT a skort…from the back it still looked like a skirt (to any guys that may be reading, which is doubtful on this topic…a “skort” looks like a skirt from the front, and shorts from the back. This looked like a skirt from all angles.

I also tend to only wear a sports bra or a small tank top when I run, because I chaff very badly under my arms in a shirt. One thing I loved about these skirts was the fact that each one had a matching tank top that was adorable. After wearing the outfit several times to walk the dog and run errands, I decided to test it out for a run. I LOVED it! The skirt stayed exactly where it was supposed to, the tank top didn’t chaff my skin at all, and I got several  compliments on my run about my “very cute outfit”. Every time I went back to Target, they had a new  color and a new design, and I loved them so much I usually ended up buying a new outfit each time.

I was running quite a bit this summer, but if I wasn’t in “work” clothes, I was almost always in one of my  ”running skirt” outfits. I ran errands in them, went shopping and to school in them, and of course, I  worked out in them.  It was a cute work out outfit that beat the Atlanta heat, still looked “girly” and best  of all, was comfortable.

Continue reading »

Last year's tri (2008)

Tommy getting ready to race in 2008

As fall racing  season begins, there is a lot of buzz about getting a “PR” (personal record), local 5 and 10K’s around town, and some major marathons coming up across the country. Recently, I was lucky enough to be able to go to Collierville, Tennessee, to see my nephews compete in a local kid’s triathlon. Last year my oldest nephew Tommy competed for the first time, and would be racing again this year. His little brother Matthew is an amazing athlete, and was going to compete for the first time this year at 5 years old, even though kids were technically supposed to be 7 to be able to race (Matthew could easily pass for a 7 year old, as he was taller than most 8 year old kids). I am very proud of all five of my nephews, and love

He is off on his bike (in 2008)

Tommys a little too big for that bike!

seeing each one find their own path…but this race in particular struck a chord with me last year. The annual triathlon is held in honor of a swim coach that was also a triathlete, and was tragically killed when he was hit by a car while he was cycling several years ago.  Every fall, it draws over 200 kids in Collierville as a fundraiser in his memory.    It is a very large race, and I have to imagine it can be extremely intimidating to a small child who has never done anything like it before.

Coming towards the finish line for the run!

So proud of him with his medal!

Last year, Tommy was 7 and had no formal training in swimming. He had taught himself to swim, and was very good, but he didn’t have the technical guidance that a swim coach would have provided. He has always excelled in everything he’s done (he finished the entire Harry Potter series by 2nd grade), and he’s always been an excellent athlete. On the day of the race, we walked into the natatorium and there were kids everywhere. The

Kids Tri Registration for 2009

People were packed everywhere, standing room only!

pool had 20 lanes, a separate warm up pool and diving pool, bleachers for the audience, and people packed in so tight you could hardly move. Kids had their swim caps and racing bathing suits on, and clearly most of them had experience being on a swim team. The transition area was filled with expensive bikes that would rival an adult race transition area, and Tommy had a typical bike for a 7 year old boy who liked to ride in the neighborhood with his friends. Tommy got his ankle chip and number painted on his arm, his transition area set up, and was ready to go. He never complained that the other kids had “racing bikes”, or that he was going to swim against kids that were on a swim team when he taught himself to swim in their backyard pool. My sister and I were even

The kids listening to the directions for the course

the 8 and under kids lining up

somewhat intimidated by how serious this event was, and a little worried about how Tommy would do. When they finally got to his age group, he filed in line to his lane and was ready to go, just like the rest of the kids. I vividly remember watching him swim and thinking about how he’s never done a triathlon before, he’s definitely never competed in a swimming, running OR a biking race, and here he is with 200+ other kids, not scared at all. He went on to finish an AMAZING race, and I was so unbelievably proud of him when he came across the finish line. As soon as he

Tommy and Matthew getting their number markings

Tommy and Matthew finishing setting up their transition area

finished I gave him a huge hug, told him he did great, and asked him if he had fun…his reply? “Yea Aunt A. I think I won, and I’ve never even done a triathlon before!” I’m not an outwardly emotional person but I got choked up trying to talk to him because I was so proud of him, and at that moment I couldn’t even find the words to tell him. I had to leave from the race to head back to Atlanta, and I thought about that one sentence he said after he finished for pretty much my entire drive. Then I started thinking… I am 31, and I want to do something I’ve never done before, something that’s a pretty big challenge, and I want to be as proud of myself after completing it as Tommy was after his race. So I signed up for a half marathon two days later with my friend Stephanie. When I crossed the finish line six weeks later, I was in tears because

All 3 boys eating their sport beans for energy!

Racing suits on, googles tight...ready to race!

I was so proud of myself for running that race, and so amazed that a 7 year old inspired me to do something I never thought I would do.

If I didn’t get injured, I would have gone on to finish 7 half marathons this year. I had to pull out of my last 2, so it looks like I will finish 2009 with 5 medals from an event I would have never even thought about if Tommy hadn’t reminded me how great it can feel to do something you’ve never done before, and challenge yourself to do something outside of your comfort zone.

This year the event was even bigger, with more kids, fancier bikes, and faster racing swim suits. Tommy started swimming competitively this past fall, so we weren’t worried about him at all. Matthew is a tall 5 year old, but he’s still only 5…so we were all a bit

Tommy and Matthew waiting....and waiting...

Matthew...always such a prankster

concerned that he’d get scared when it came time to race. We set up their transition areas, got their timing chips and numbers on them, and got them all ready to go. Tommy went first, and ironically swam in the same lane he swam in last year. He swam an AWESOME race, and the first one out of the pool. He did great on the bike, and as he came back to transition from the bike to the run he gave his grandpa (my dad) a high five as he ran through the chute. When he crossed the finish line I was again more proud of him than words could even express. I gave him a hug and tried to say “I am so proud of you” and couldn’t even get all the words out before I had a huge lump in my throat.

Matthew went after Tommy, and as he was led to his lane he looked like he was

Everyone watching the older kids start on their swims while we wait for their age group

Tommy and I talking 'strategy' before the race

walking the plank. The poor guy looked petrified….but he still walked to his lane. He was the tallest kid in his group, but looked SO young in the face. As soon as the official blew the horn, he jumped into the pool-and as all the kids took off swimming, he stayed behind. He started to cry a little, but we were all standing along the lane, and we told him it was okay to get out of the pool and not race this year. He could watch and cheer his fellow racers on. That’s exactly what he did, and he was able to be at the finish line when Tommy crossed. Matthew didn’t end up competing, but I was equally proud of him. He had his racing swim suit on, his bike ready, and his timing chip on, and we have no doubt he physically could have done the race. He got a little scared in the end, and didn’t, but what was most important was that he TRIED. In the end, he was just

Tommy is off to a great start on the swim!

First one out of the water!

too young to compete with kids a full two years older than him, but he got dressed that morning, he sat with the other kids waiting for almost two hours, and he did his best. I can imagine that sitting with kids all 7 and older for almost two hours before the race was pretty intimidating for a 5 year old. The most important thing Matthew did that day was try, and I am so proud of him for it. He still has two years before he would be racing against kids his own age, and I have no doubt he will “dominate” (Matthews favorite word) when his time

He's off to the bike!

Doing awesome in the transition!

Trying to find his bike in the transition area and checking out the competition!

Running through the chute out of tranistion and onto the run

Giving Grandpa a "high five" on the start of his run!

Matthew walking towards his lane with the 7 year olds

comes to race with his own age group. It reminds me of the quote from John Bigham, “The miracle is not that I finished, the miracle is that I had the courage to start”. Matthew had the courage to start, and I am so proud of him.

I think it’s interesting that what inspires us to do things sometimes comes from places we never expected. If you asked me before the race last year,

And he's off on the bike!

I’d say I was inspired by all different things, different people, and different experiences. I wouldn’t have guessed my nephew would inspire me to take up a new hobby (I say hobby because I run half marathons purely fun, I am certainly not going to be standing on a podium anytime soon), which has allowed me to meet an entire new group of amazing athletes, and rekindle some old friendships through training and racing together. This year Matthew inspired me to try something new, even if I’m not totally sure about it, or may be a little scared by it. If it doesn’t work out, that’s okay…but at least I know I tried, instead of selling myself short by not even making an attempt. So, I think my next challenge may be a full marathon. I’ve never been a ‘runner’, and I love the

Its getting closer to "go" time...

He is looking at the coach like "you said what?!"

Sprinting towards the finish!

He is almost done!!

half marathon distance-but instead of wondering if I could even potentially do a full one, I am going to sign up and give it my best shot. I love the quote, “There will be days you don’t think you can run a marathon. There will be a lifetime of knowing you have.” I want to give it my best,  and know that I have.

So, what or who inspires you? What has challenged you to do something different in your life? I’d be

He looks like a pro already!

Coming around to the finish line!

interested to hear readers’ comments on this topic, because I find every answer equally fascinating.

I have only been to Chicago one time, and it was in January. Needless to say, I froze my buns off. This time it was a little different, but only on Sunday. First off, my flight was delayed leaving Atlanta. I have never been so happy to hear that my flight was delayed, as I would have missed it otherwise. Once I got to Midway, my bags took FOREVER, which put me right in the middle of rush hour traffic. Overhearing someone talk about how long it was going to take to drive into the city, I opted to try and be a “city girl” (or imitate one as best as I could) and take the “L” train. It may be the “T”, the “Tube”, “Marta”, “Metra”…who knows. It was a train, and it went underground, and it was scary. I hate subways and trains, and have learned they are not for me. (I much prefer to travel in style with my parents, ha, ha). I was lugging a 50lb bag that USED to be my favorite bag-large duffel on wheels, with an extra long handle that pulled out from under it that was perfect for my extra long monkey arms. Mistake #1. The lady told me to take the “Orange line” to get to the Fairmont hotel. She failed to mention coming from Midway I needed

to get OFF the orange line, get on the brown line (or some other color. I am trying to block out the entire experience of getting to my hotel, so the details have started to fade away), then get BACK on the orange line, or I’d get stuck on the loop…which is exactly what I did. As I am sitting in the seat, looking at the map, I slowly realized I was going to go in a square around downtown; when I would have been THE NEXT STOP if the train didn’t turn (hence, the changing of the trains I was supposed to do). So, I take a little extra ride around the city in the nasty train, where I am guarding my purse with both arms, have my sleeves covering my jewelry and am just trying to stare at the ground. I finally get to my stop, and ask the oh-so-nice man with no teeth working the subway station how to get to the Fairmont. Apparently his Fairmont is different than the one I was staying at, because he told me to go to Lake St., then to Michigan Ave, up 3 blocks…and that’s where he lost me. On a different note, I am not sure what people with disabilities do in this city-there are NO elevators. Every train station was nothing but steps. By the end of the weekend I felt like I should file a formal complaint, as I am now a member of the Americans with Disabilities group after hurting my back lugging 50 lb suitcases

up and down 3 flights of old, shaky stairs. Back to heading to the hotel. So I head down the steps, with my bag bouncing one step at a time. Then I hear it. The god awful sound of something cracking. Yup, wheel broke, so the entire bottom right corner of my bag is caving in. I started up the block to Lake; literally sliding this bag along the cement. I was completely sure it was going to rip open and all of my stuff would be all over the streets of downtown Chicago. Get to Lake St, make the right, go down a block to Michigan…still with the gimp bag behind me in one hand, and my rolling computer bag that was filled to the top in the other. At one point I had to turn around and pull the bags and walk backwards, because it was starting to feel like my shoulder was getting pulled out of the joint. I get to Michigan

Ave, and turn left and started heading the three blocks north…now, those not from Chicago may not be aware, but Michigan Ave is like Atlanta’s “Peachtree Street”, LA’s ”Robertson Blvd”, NYC’s ”5thAve”…it’s busy, it’s packed, and there are people everywhere. I am now walking BACKWARDS, dragging a huge bag on the ground that is caving in on one side and making a nails on a chalkboard sound, and just trying to find some humor in all the people staring at me. I get up 3 blocks and ask another sketchy looking person where the Fairmont is. No clue. So I call them from my phone, and give the lady the intersection I was at. Of course, I was no where near where I needed to be. I had to back track 3 blocks, then cross the street, go up 3

flights of stairs, go to the next light, make a left, and the hotel should be on the left. Seriously? You’ve got to be kidding me. I went to Australia alone when I was 23, and I cannot even navigate around a major US city by myself? Ugh.

Seeing the sign of the Fairmont is only what I can imagine seeing the gates of Heaven will be like. It was like I had reached the Holy Land. So, I get to the hotel, meet up with Erin Melick for a drink, and we head out to dinner. After dinner we decided to check out the local “scene” and it was insane. Apparently no one wears jeans in this town. I had on a sundress and an Under Armour (see previous blog for my die hard love for all that is Under Armour) fleece (it was COLD) and flip flops. The bar we were at was packed, and all

the girls had micro mini-dresses on, super high heels, and they were just dressed UP. In the bars in Atlanta, the girls wear expensive jeans, cute tops, and fancy heels. I do not think there was a single pair of jeans on a girl in the entire bar. Erin and I just thought that was weird. I am sure if they didn’t even wear jeans, they loved my UA fleece. It is quite chic, in my opinion.

So we left there and started headed back, and Erin and I started talking about how we prefer “dive bars” where you just go in and have a good time, and you don’t care what you have on, or if your hair and make up are done. Just as we say that, we pass what is sure to

be the worlds best description of a “dive bar”…and as equally disgusting and dirty as the train. The door was a simple door, with a piece of construction paper on it that said “come in”, under scaffolding on a super shady corner next to what appeared to be a very popular 7-11. We looked at each other and decided we had to check it out. They had been open 30 years, and were still “cash only”. Erin and I took a seat at the bar, and the older lady bartending was very proud to say she had been bartending there over 20 years. Luck of all luck, we end up next to the 23 year old nephew of the owner…and we know that because he told us no less than 20 times. He must have said “so what are you ladies doing tomorrow night?” 15 times. He invited us to a “hotel party”, then, and I quote, “a kegger”, and last, but certainly not least, a party he had saved up all summer for, that he was hosting the following night. Funny, because he had all these “amazing” options, yet was

sitting as this nasty bar, alone. He asked our ages and when we told him he goes “wow. I thought girls your age are usually at Home Depot, bed bath and beyond, or home watching CSI on a Friday night…not out at a bar, having a good time”. Nice one, guy. We asked him if he had graduated college yet (he said he “went” to U of I) and he said “No, not yet. I’m kinda doing a victory lap…again” (meaning he was about to start year 6). As Erin is sipping the world’s smallest vodka soda and I am trying to explain to this guy we aren’t interested in his “kegger”, this little man comes up and taps me on the shoulder and says “I play this song for you”. He had very broken English and was probably 5’3…and when I turned around he was sitting on a bar stool right behind us, just staring at us. The song was a Dave Matthews song I had never heard, and as soon as it was over, he left. Weird.

So then two huge men came up and asked if they could take their picture with us. They completely grossed me out and I found one to be actually quite frightening. We gave the

bartender my camera and he bent down and put his arm around me and I think I just about jumped out of my skin. As we were leaving they were outside, and he was VERY proud of his convertible Thunderbird, that was “sittin’ on 22′s” and asked if I would take a picture with his “ride”. Erin jumped on this one and grabbed my camera and quickly got on his side, with “yea, Allison, pose next to the car”. I tried to get the picture taken from behind the car, but ended up having to stand in front in order for them to let us say goodbye and go home. Just like on the subway, I had my sleeves down to my fingertips, my purse UNDER my UA fleece, and my arms double crossed in front of me to hide any and all things valuable. The walk back to the hotel was long and not the first thing that

comes to mind when I think of “safety first”.

So, on to Saturday. Erin Straight got there bright and early, and we had a great day at Wriggleyville, eating at Gino’s authentic Chicago pizza (which was bizarre looking and not at all what I expected), the race expo, an architectural boat tour, and then we walked the miracle mile. It was FREEZING cold, so we had to run into a souvenir shop before the boat tour and we all got the ugliest Chicago sweatshirts…not on purpose-everything in the store was god awful ugly. If there was a cute option, we would have gone with it, but

they were all pretty heinous. But, they kept us warm, or at least warmer than we were before we had them, so mission accomplished. Erin got her daughter a princess dress and I ran into Macy’s to get a replacement bag for the trip home…I was not going to lug my broken luggage all the way back. We found a very cool 80′s restaurant/bar to have dinner at, and they played all 80′s big hair band music, and all the decorations were pictures from TV shows/movies from the 80s. The food was great, but we were beyond exhausted, our backs hurt and our feet were tired and sore from walking literally all day long. We finally got back to the hotel at 10:30, and got to bed sometime around midnight, only to take up around 4:30.

Race day was beautiful and much warmer than the day before. The course was GORGEOUS, and ran all along the lake and had beautiful views of the Chicago skyline the entire second half. The first half was all through downtown, which was also very cool. This was the first race I ran in my Vibrams, which was awesome, except for the drawbridges (which there were a ton of)…the 10 feet where the bridge comes together was spiked and killed my feet. Luckily I am a quick learner, and after the second one when I saw one coming up I jumped up on the sidewalk for the 10 feet, and then back into the street after we passed over it. Erin M was a “roadie” (volunteer) and Erin S was a track star. It was her first half, and she absolutely rocked it. The course ended up being 13.64 miles long, and

for that distance I got a 2:01:22 and she got a 1:55:12, but I set my Garmin to tell me the time at 13.1 and I was a 1:56:28 and she was a 1:50. That girl is a natural athlete, and was on a mission to break 2 hours, which she did easily.
We had a great time at the post race expo, and met some really nice people (see blog about “why I run”, as this was a perfect example). I exchanged some emails today with a very nice girl we met afterwards, and we met a guy who offered to take our picture, and then ended up insisting on taking about 20 to capture all the different views. Grant Park and Millennium Park were BEAUTIFUL and it was amazing to see parks like that the

downtown of a city. They had a tent for kids to come make arts and crafts, bike rentals, everything. It really did live up to everything people had said about it….it was an amazing place in the summertime.

We headed back to the hotel, showered, changed, and then started back towards the train…my arch nemesis of the weekend. Once again we had to carry our bags up three flights of steps, fight the turnstile to get me AND my bag through on one “pass”, and wrestle our way back to the airport. It was a quick goodbye for everyone, as all of our flights were boarding by the time we made it through the airport. My flight ended up delayed, and then Delta decided to board in “free service” mode, which I had never heard of before. Basically, it was every man for him or herself, with no seat assignments. As luck would have it, I was next to the world’s most annoying mom and her two year old. She spoke so loud people 10 rows up were turning and looking at her, and everything was in the 3rd person. “Does Eliza want some juice?” “Does Eliza want some play dough?” Now “Eliza” was not a baby…she was probably a little over 2, which I found odd that the mom spoke to her that way. We finally boarded, pushed back and OF COURSE, the captain came on and said we were delayed an hour. Then after an hour, another hour. What was supposed to get me home by 4:30 ended up getting me home around 9 pm Sunday night, with a final to study for Monday.

Even with the subway/train ride, the sketchy people at the bar, and the hellacious flight home, it was a great weekend in Chi-town. The Burbage/Straight duo rides again!