About Me

We’ve been playing the song on repeat for weeks and now the day is here.  Pittsburgh isn’t going to the Super Bowl anymore they are AT the Superbowl!  And we are ready to cheer them on for their 7th Superbowl victory!

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Even our dog Maggie is sporting the black and gold today!

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GO STEELERS!!!!!!

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Back on the Wagon

February 2, 2011

in running

A few weeks ago my FIL approached me about running in a local half marathon with him at the beginning of March.  Because I seem to require a race to motivate me to run, I was eager to accept.  However, it only left me about 7 weeks to prepare and I was not in running shape, having only run a handful of times since my son’s birth last June. 

I found some training guides online (both of which suggested 12 weeks to prepare) and spent a good amount of time face booking and e-mailing with a friend about my strategy.  I’ve pretty much settled into 2 short runs a week and one long run on the weekend, with the distances for both increasing each week.  This week my short runs are 4.5 miles and my long run will be 7 miles.  By the week prior to the race I will be up to 10 miles for my long run and I believe 5 miles for my short runs.  

This is the first time I have trained for a race using a treadmill.  I know it isn’t exactly like running on the road, but I do believe it is pushing me to run faster.  And let me set the record straight, my fast is a mere 5.0mph, which equals a 12 mm. 

Last week however, I sorta fell off the wagon, or the treadmill and managed to skip all 3 runs… I could list for you my many excuses for why, but they all boil down to just that, excuses,  so I will spare you.

Tuesday, it was time to get the sneakers back on and get back on track… after completing my 4.5 mile run, I was left with a few thoughts…

1.  Why have I not run using the TV on the treadmill before?  I can’t believe how much more enjoyable the run was thanks to Gilmore Girls on DVD…especially compared to merely staring at the numbers on my treadmill. 

2.  Skipping a week of running was a big mistake.  My legs were jelly when I finished.  Jelly

3.  Is there any chance I can bring Gilmore Girls with me for the 1/2 marathon? (any volunteers to run ahead of me with a portable dvd player strapped to their back) 

4.  I wish the race was the beg of April instead of the beg of March.

I have 4 weeks left to go… I hope to be better prepared than my last big run and at least finish knowing I did my best.

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I’ve never known what it was like to be part of the home town team.  Though I was born in Pa, I’ve lived in rival MD since the age of 5, not counting 3 of my 4 years of college.  I got my love of football from my dad and my dad brought me up a Steelers girl.  I now pass this legacy onto my four children.   I just love this pic of our newest Steelers fan, I had to find a reason to sneak this in.IMG_7976

But, I gotta tell you, it isn’t easy living behind enemy lines.  I like to think it makes us stronger.  We don’t go with the flow, we stand our own.  We proudly sport our black and gold in this land of purple.  It really doesn’t bother me in the week leading up to the game.  I will gladly talk trash with my neighbor, hang our flag in front of our house and wear my jersey all over town – in fact, I kinda like it.

But, once the game starts, it is a different story.  And it really hit me this year.  During the second quarter of the game on Saturday, I was literally sick to my stomach.  We went into half time down 14 points facing a tough Ravens defense.  The game was far from over but we had to admit it wasn’t looking good.  And the thought of going to church the next morning, seeing all my friends in purple, made me ill.  The Steelers just had to pull through.

I hate losing in the play offs.  Hate it.  I hate it in part because I can still taste the bitter loss against the Patriots in the AFC Championships in 2002.  It forever changed the playoffs for me.  We had home field advantage.  We were on top of the world and I was sure, SURE we were Superbowl bound.  That loss stung.  It stung bad.  I remember Scott and I sitting in our apartment shell shocked and speechless.  His dad had come over to watch with us.  When the game was over, he just politely slipped out to leave us to wallow alone.  He then sent a condolence card later that week.  I am sure that sounds melodramatic to some, but we were so sure, SO SURE we were going to win and just like that our dreams crashed when our season was over early.  We didn’t want to chit chat.  We didn’t want to listen to our friends gloat.  We lost, it stunk and we needed time to get over it.  (Scott and I had a conversation post season discussing whether we have perhaps let Football have too strong a roll in our happiness).

Because of that, and b/c we lost again to the Patriots in 2005, I can’t go into a play off game cocky.  I am always guarded.  I know anything can happen and nothing is certain till it is over.   I refuse to count my chickens until they hatch. 

And because I know how awful it feels to lose, I also try to be respectful of the losing team.  I told my son last night, (after we rebounded in the second half to win the playoff game against the Ravens) that we can be happy about our win (and trust me, it is still very loud here at the circus), but when we go to church tomorrow, we can not gloat.  Talking trash is fine before a game, but after a game it is just rude.  We will not gloat.  (My son – who can trash talk with the best of them – said “Ok mom, I won’t rub it in.  I will be nice.  I’ll say, the Ravens did well.  It is so good that they made it to the play offs.”)  Ok, so it’s amazing how patronizing that sounds coming from a 6 year old… I then suggested he just not bring it up AT ALL. 

How great it must be to live with home field advantage.  It stinks that I had to coach the kids not to talk about the game.  It stinks that I felt like we couldn’t wear our celebration loud and proud today.  Even though we were bouncing on the inside, I felt like we needed to mute our celebration so as to not be rubbing our happiness in our friends faces.  And I thought to myself, “Man I wish we lived in Pittsburgh.”  I wish we could walk cheering and singing and sporting our colors after a Ravens game.  I wish we could be free to fully celebrate when we beat our rival, holding nothing back.  (in hindsight, perhaps that’s part of what made this 2009 trip to PA a bit more special).

IMG_7995As we march forward in the play offs, I want to win next week for so many reasons.  I want to win b/c I want to go the Superbowl, I want to win b/c I hate losing, I want to win because it probably means we got to avenge our 2002 loss to the Patriots, and I want to win so I can celebrate, and party and dance in the street waving my towel and holding nothing back.

Until next week, all should know, our fight song is playing loud and proud behind the walls of the circus.

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It began innocently enough.  It kind of drew me in with its rich, sweet aroma.  For years I’d enjoy the hint of the flavor… in mud pies or Frappuccino’s…even an occasional cappuccino.  But I wasn’t quite ready to sell out and drink a cup of joe for breakfast on a regular occasion. 

Then I went to our annual Labor Day getaway.  Which, in addition to being a house full of my closest life long friends and their chillin’, was also a house full of serious coffee drinkers.    They were brewin it all the time and offering it to any interested. 

So I tried it. 

(With milk and sugar)

And  liked it, a lot. 

They made more, I drank more and by the time I was home and back to life, I found myself longing for that warm sweet cup of love.

I think the big reason why I switched was because I recently gave up Coke and Sweet Tea.   I am not swearing off of it or anything.  I still have it on occasion, but I am not drinking it with the regularity that I once was, b/c I am cutting back on my caloric intake.  (read… trying to fit back into my skinny jeans)

Coffee feels like a desert.  It’s warm and sweet and filling and you can sip it for hours.  (YET, with 3/4 tbs sugar and a dash of skim milk, it only costs me one point on WW). 

I feel like drinking coffee adds a touch of relaxation and luxury to my morning.  It’s like a big treat for mommy.  I get to hold a warm mug and sip as I teach school.  Or bring it to go and sip on our way out the door.  Some afternoons as I head out the door to gymnastics or soccer practice, I’ll bring a cup of iced coffee.  It’s a refreshing treat with much less fat than a Frappuccino. 

I also love that Scott makes it for me.  I don’t know that he will always do this, but for the past 2 weeks he has set up the coffee maker and most mornings even pours me a cup.  (He doesn’t even drink coffee, he does it all for me)… seriously, it’s like a bouquet of flowers every morning.. I feel so loved and cherished, by this simple act each day.  Our mornings are rushed as I to try make breakfasts, fix lunches, over see wardrobes (no you may not wear that flowered shirt with the polka dot skirt… please go change again), nurse the baby, dress myself… and I barely have time to eat.  I love when he just hands me a mug of coffee to sip in the midst of the chaos that is our morning. 

It makes my kitchen smell wonderfully each morning, makes me feel loved, tastes like a dessert yet easy on the waist, warms you up, it’s a lil taste of vacation in the midst of real life…. seriously, why has it taken me 31 years to get on board with this?

Any other coffee drinkers out there?  Tell me, what do you love about it?

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This would be why more than one of my children thought chicken came from cows…

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Cow Appreciation Day at Chick-Fil-A is a tradition here at the circus.

We start them young with our indoctrination!

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