My Ragnar Runcation Survival

You’ve got three choices in life: give up, give in, or give it all you’ve got.

Who said this?  I have no idea, but I find it inspiring and true.

I should have sat down and recapped my Ragnar Florida Keys experience sooner, but I was only home two days last week and just didn’t have time.  But now so much of it is a blur.  Come to think of it, the experience was a blur while I was experiencing it.  No, drugs were not involved, but lack of sleep may have contributed to loopiness.  No worries though, because I KNOW I had fun and I know I did the best I could do, and I’m pleased with the results.

This was the fourth time I have done one of these relays, and the third time I had to run from Miami to Key West, which are the only two places in the US that were warm that weekend apparently.

My amazing twelve person team met up on Thursday afternoon, packed our two vans full of running gear, munchies, and our fun-loving selves, and took off for Miami.  Then we had to decorate our Ragnarrhea #2 team vans appropriately, which according to some is not appropriate at all.

Meadow Muffin, a stowaway, turned out to be our team mascot.

Meadow Muffin, a stowaway, turned out to be our team mascot.

More inappropriate images of our van.  You have been warned.

the front

driver side

our rear end

It’s safe to look now.

I was in van #1 (which means my recap will come from our van’s point of view), so we sped off in the darkness towards the start line, making it just in time for runner one’s 7 a.m. start time.  Then our first set of runs was fast, as these were the shortest legs for most of us and we were all coming in faster than expected.  Yes, even I was able to cut about 40 seconds off each of my 3.6 miles of my first run, having only been running again after an injury for 2 1/2 weeks.  It was all good though because 800 seems to be the magic number of milligrams of ibuprofen it takes for me to not feel my leg (ok, so maybe some drugs were involved).

Then we attempted to sleep outdoors, in the daylight, at Homestead Miami Speedway because you sleep when you can at Ragnar.  Some were more successful than others.

homestead sleep

The night runs were longer and I had to run 7.1 miles, 5 of which were on a torn up sidewalk (but I had some encouragement from an elderly couple waiting outside a restaurant, who clapped and cheered for me, though I’m sure they had no idea why I was out there running in the dark).  This would not have been a big deal if I had daylight to see and my leg wasn’t a concern, but whatevs, I just took more ibuprofen when I finished, stretched as much as I could and we camped out at another outdoor exchange under the stars…until it rained.  Most of my vanmates ran for the cover of our van at that point, except our next up runner who slept right through it.  And that’s fine, except we couldn’t find him again when the other van called to let us know their last runner was on her way.  Eventually he surfaced and we got to our next exchange in time.

By this point we were starting the cycle of our last legs of the race and we were still making good time, though I had already slowed down on my middle leg.  Once the sun came out, we all slowed down a bit.  It was hot, steamy, and mostly shadeless the rest of the way.  My last leg went over two bridges, and those were the best parts because a cool breeze came off the water, reviving me.  I checked the mile splits for this last 5.2 mile run once I finished and was not at all surprised that I had slowed a little with each mile.  My legs felt great (even the injured one- more ibuprofen), but the sun was cruel and hateful.  Usually Ragnar posts signs that say, “One mile to go,” but I didn’t have one of those.  I had two signs that were even better: “Half a mile to go” and “A quarter mile to go.”  At that point I knew I would make it, and Katy Perry chose that time on my playlist to “Roar,” so I sang along and made it!

Considering how nervous I was of reinjuring my leg and having to walk most of my runs, I only walked a short amount on the last stretch, and since I shaved off some time on my first run, even though I began to slow down, I didn’t go beneath my predicted time until my last leg, so I almost evened out at the expected rate.  As a whole, our team rocked!

That's me roaring in the middle! Love this team. Love this picture.

That’s me roaring in the middle! Love this team. Love this picture.

In our division we came in at 58/309 and 116/478 overall.

Can you spot our team's "signature"?

Can you spot our team’s “signature”?

Because Sweat is Weakness Leaving the Body…

In exactly a week from right now I should be done with my third and final run in the Ragnar FL Keys 2014 race and my van will be in Key West waiting for our second half to finish.  A month ago I was doubting I’d be able to run in this race, but I went out for my first long run in two months this morning, and I feel awesome.  I still feel like I didn’t get in as much training as I would have liked, but I’m proud not to have given up.

When I couldn’t run, I rode my bike or worked out on the elliptical, which I hate because it’s so boring.  I attempted comeback runs a couple times before I succeeded without crying because of the pain in my leg.  In caring for my leg and combating the pain, I knew it would be hard.  But I’m running again, and sweating out the weakness.

The other part that makes this great is that I have an amazing support team of local runners, and of course, my Ragnarrhea teammates.  Thanks to everyone who has helped encourage me to get back out there.  This Ragnar was supposed to be my most challenging because I was originally going to take on more miles.  But now it’s the most challenging because I’ve had to get my head straight.  Running isn’t just physical, but mental as well.  And I’ve got my mantra now:  “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13)

My Words as Weapons: Super Bowl Trafficking

The Super Bowl has become an event far beyond the financial means of most people.  Only those with an overabundance of disposable income can afford to go to such an event, and because the audience is made up of such privileged people, many believing themselves to be far more important and untouchable than others, because alcohol consumption will be increased, and because the majority of Super Bowl attendees are men, sex trafficking will spike for the weekend as more and more young women, many underage, will be forced to give their bodies over and over again for the profit of others.

Here’s a creepy little tidbit for you:

“Dallas police and federal authorities arrested 133 minors for prostitution during the 2011 Super Bowl, and according to Forbes Magazine 10,000 prostitutes were transported to Miami for the Super Bowl in 2010.” –Michael Reagan’s “The Super Bowl and Sex Trafficking” from townhall.com

The numbers here are astounding, and I have to admit I’m almost equally outraged that so many prostitutes were arrested while their pimps and the johns seem to go untouched.  Those are the true criminals.

I’m thrilled to see news and training spread to create awareness of this atrocity.  How sad it is that we must anticipate more sales of humans for sexual pleasures than usual whenever and wherever big sporting events take place.  Consider this when you watch the Olympics in Russia in a few weeks (since the USSR broke apart sex trafficking victims have largely come from this area of the world anyway) or the World Cup in Brazil this summer.  At least each of those events only happen every four years (well, every two if we count summer and winter Olympics), while the Super Bowl is an annual spike for the trafficking industry.  It also pleases me that so many organizations prepare well in advance for these events, spreading awareness and training law enforcement officials and those in the travel industry, equipping them with the knowledge of how they can help save these exploited individuals.

I thought this was a great little segment to share:

http://abcnews.go.com/WNT/video/sex-trafficking-spike-looms-super-bowls-shadow-22258289

Sneak a Peek at My Sequel

I’ve been busy writing my sequel to Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: The Middle-ish Ages (sequel title to be announced).  Here’s some proof:

Learning What Ails

After the annual ceremonial sacrifices of our dignity, otherwise known as three weeks of square dancing, we got a little more time off from dressing out for gym (as if I often did anyway) as we had an interval of health class where we learned about cleaning ourselves properly, certain muscle groups, and eating nutritious food. Carmen and I were passing notes back and forth.  She was in the drama club and they were getting extra credit if they helped backstage at the upcoming talent show, and if they recruited other people.

Her note read, “Vile Contagion is playing, so Adrienne already said she’d help because she thinks Joe Spano is hot.” Adrienne had been talking about this all week.  Joe Spano was a junior and played drums in our high school’s local rock band, Vile Contagion.  I had to admit, their name was catchy.

“I can do it as long as Adrienne is because we’ll just catch rides together,” I wrote, and then refolded and tossed the note to Carmen. It came back to me quickly with a huge smiley face.

“Who remembers what the gluteus maximus is?” asked our all-year shorty shorts and whistle wearing gym teacher.

And in that unfortunate moment, Julia from chorus’ sister, who happened to be an office aid, walked in with a message delivery. As soon as her wide hips cleared the door to exit, Lance, Mouth-Breather from photography, shouted out, “That young woman is burdened with a prime example of a maximus gluteus maximus!”

Instead of scolding Lance, Mr. Baxter said, “Yes, exactly.  The glute is the butt,” and Lance and Todd, his greasy haired cohort gave each other high fives.

“But, wait,” declared my normally lip-locked locker neighbor who had recently been transferred into the class in order to avoid an old boyfriend. “I thought Gluteus Maximus was like a Roman god or something.”

After paying attention to those few minutes of class, Carmen and I resumed our note writing.  It seemed safer for our brain cells.

More to come.  I wrote around 7,000 words this week.

Final Countdown Update

There are fourteen days between today and the day I begin running my fourth Ragnar Relay. I have now been able to run successfully three times, and will run this afternoon after I get home from impersonating a history teacher. I’ve been taking it easy on my newly healed leg (possible tibial stress fracture or torn tendon or ligament) in order to make sure it is healed and I do not overwork it too fast and re-injure. But it’s frustrating.  So I have been integrating riding my bike and the use of our elliptical machine, along with some pilates and yoga in hopes of these helping me to prepare.  But there is no cardio like running, and running is the best training for running.  *Sigh*  It’s going to have to be enough. Time is running out.

I may have put on a few pounds and inches while I was unable to run between Thanksgiving and Christmas, in part because I wasn’t active, and also because I was eating my fill of yummy unhealthy candy in hopes of coating my sadness in chocolate since I could not run.  Oh, the evil cycle.  Anyway, I cut both those pounds and the inches in about a week, and I’m active again, so this is a good thing.

Some have asked how I did that so quickly, so I’ll share here.  Every January, and sometimes in June, my husband and I do a fat flush/cleanse diet for two or three weeks.  It works, it’s healthy, I feel awesome, and my skin looks good too.  The dogs love it because they get more bits of apples and such “treats.” The hitch?  I have to eat about a gazillion tons of vegetables, and I’m not a fan of vegetables.  I’d rather eat chocolate covered bacon, or either of those things individually…or fried foods, like pickles.  But I digress. My point?  It takes a tremendous amount of self-discipline, time to prepare and eat the food, and determination on my part to succeed, which is why the flush calls for three weeks, but my husband and I tend to negotiate until we agree on two weeks.  He enjoys the meals while I chew, and chew, and chew my onions and greens.  But if you’re interested, the book is called The Formula, and it brings amazing results.

More updates on my progress and preparation to come.

My Words as Weapons: Joining the Fight with Others

This video has gotten me all excited about the End It Movement this year.  Let’s all join together and fight together to free the 27 million people who are enslaved at this exact moment.

It seems such a daunting task to take this on alone, but we’re not alone if we work together.  27 million seems like an impossible number to free, but we just have to start with one.  Don’t not do something because you don’t think you can make a difference.

“Be the difference you want to see.” -Gandhi

Share this video because there’s no doubt this vile practice still exists and YOU can help. Ignite a fire for change.

A Dog is this Girl’s Best Friend

Why is it that “man’s best friend” is a dog and “a diamond is a girl’s best friend”? Sure, I like diamonds, but I’d rather have the unconditional warmth and love of a dog any day. Why do women come across sounding so shallow?  Perhaps a dog wearing diamonds would be a good compromise.

dog and diamond

Now that’s just ridiculous! I don’t do fru fru dogs, or any that could possibly be mistaken as a rodent.

Ok, so perhaps “man” in the man’s best friend phrase is actually meant in the more general sense of humanity.  Or maybe not.  Another stereotype is that old lonely women are crazy and have cats, multifarious cats, not dogs. Interestingly enough, though I often heard women tend to prefer cats, and men prefer dogs, that is not necessarily the case. I found a fun read with some silly dog versus cat people statistics. Click to read.

My husband and I are proud “parents” of two Australian shepherds, and to the surprise of many, a tortoise shell cat named Truffles.  We had her first, and I do love my kitty, but the problem is that she only loves me about five minutes at a time, while Dylan and MJ, my Aussies, cannot get enough love. EVER.

100_0092

I grew up as a cat person.  We had a few dogs throughout my childhood, but only the cats were allowed in the house, so I didn’t really bond with the dogs.  Then I moved from apartment to apartment, and keeping a cat was much easier.

My husband wanted a dog, so I told him once we had a house we could get a dog.  We wanted a frisbee dog, so I gifted Robert a frisbee one year for Christmas as a promise of the dog to come.  We were in our house for a few years before we finally decided on the breed we wanted and took the plunge and brought home Sir Dylan (we didn’t name him, and the only time he hears his first name is when he’s in trouble- “No, Sir!”).  A year later we got a baby sister for him, Mara Jade (we did name her, after Luke Skywalker’s wife). Now I can barely remember what it was like without them.  They seriously fill up my heart.  I spend a lot of time home alone while Robert is at work, except I’m not alone.  Truffles prefers to be alone, but Dylan and MJ are always as close to me as they can be. In fact, MJ’s head is on my foot as I type this, and Dylan is right behind me.  They know when I’m sad, when I’m happy, or if I don’t feel well, and they’re always there for me.

104_2824

Persevere through the Now

I’m not sure when or where I heard or read this inspirational tidbit, but it came to mind today.

More often than not, my head is in the future.  I could at least be pleased that I’m not always dwelling on the past; however, though it is smart to be prepared for the future, we cannot live there either.

Most of what I do I do with the future in mind, but almost to the point of neglecting the present moment.  Sometimes I need to learn to let that go a little and take in what and who surround me in the here and now. I’ve got to find a balance in this, and I am certain I’m not the only one out there with this problem.

And to borrow the wise words of Devo (though I would question the wisdom of their fashion sense, and many other things in their video), “When a problem comes along, you must whip it.”  Problems will come along.  Deal with them and persevere through the moment when they come, but we should no more dwell on the problems of the future than those of the past.  So remember to live in the moment, and do the best you can.  Leave the worries of tomorrow for tomorrow, and live beyond the past.

Just for fun.  If you weren’t a child of the ’80s, I must caution you: this video may be disturbing.

It’s the Final Countdown

In just three weeks from right now, I will be participating in my fourth Ragnar Relay, where eleven friends and I will divide into two vans and each run three times for a total of 200 miles from Miami to Key West.  It’s an awesome experience.  It may not sound fun, but oh, IT IS!

I had a scare going into it this year though.  While training for a half marathon I was supposed to run just over a month ago, I injured my leg, leaving me not only unable to run my half marathon, but I was unable to run at all.  I’ve had to cross train with my bike, elliptical machine, and do pilates and yoga to try to compensate while my leg had to heal.

Two weeks ago I decided to give a short run a try because my leg wasn’t hurting too much anymore.  The results were less than desirable.  The run itself didn’t feel so bad, but my leg hurt fairly constantly for the next three days.

Now, through lots of prayer, essential repairing vitamins and supplements, and cross training, I have decided it is time to try it again tomorrow.  My leg has been completely pain free for the last three days, and that is not something I could say about any of the days before this, so I think it’s time.  I’ll start with a few short runs and keep on supplementing with other exercise, but three weeks isn’t much time, and I think I’m finally ready.

The first two years we did this race, my running name was Terrinator and we ran for Love 146.

terrinator

Last year and this coming race, I’m part of team Ragnarrhea and my running name is Excretia.  I know it’s gross, but if you run (pun intended), you get it.

Take a look at what the Ragnar experience is all about with this video by my teammate, Josh, a.k.a Poop Dust, the runner formerly known as Deuce.

My Words as Weapons: Creepy American Tourists

My blog spans many themes and subjects, from light-hearted to serious, but my aim on Wednesdays is to be a human rights activist, usually tackling the atrocity of human trafficking, a.k.a. the modern slave trade.

“If to be feelingly alive to the sufferings of my fellow-creatures is to be a fanatic, I am one of the most incurable fanatics ever permitted to be at large.”
– William Wilberforce

Over the summer I read a book called Escaping the Devil’s Bedroom by Dawn Herzog Jewell, all about “sex-trafficking, global prostitution, and the gospel’s transforming power.”  While I read, I added tiny post-it notes to flag areas and content I found interesting, shocking, or that I knew I would want to address later.  It’s later now. Sometimes you just need to let information sit for a while to process.  Other times you forget, due to time lapsing, or laziness.  Mine was a combination of both, I think.  I’ve gotten into researching human trafficking fairly heavily a few times, but sometimes it just makes me so mad or sick that I need an emotional break.  Break’s over.  I believe I will use my post-it notes and this insightful book to inspire my next several Wednesday human rights posts.  Please share this information if you feel it can help make any difference.

American tourists don’t have a great global reputation.  This does not mean all American tourists are jerks or anything.  Sometimes I am an American tourist. However, we are often seen as rude.  I can top that.  Many people won’t believe this exists, but there is a whole network of global sex-tourism, and according to this book and World Vision, “Some predators travel specifically for ‘sex-tours’, expecting anonymity, low-cost prostitution, ready access to children, and immunity from prosecution.  Americans account for 25 per cent of child sex tourists, according to reliable global estimates.”   Sure, there’s another 75 per cent from other parts of the world, but how is it that one country alone accounts for so many creepy pedophiles on a mission to ruin the innocence of children in impoverished nations?

Disgusting!

The other part of this appalling information that caught my attention was the information that followed.  I knew already that Thailand and the Philippines were huge prostitution destinations, and that children made up a disproportionate percentage of these “prostitutes”, but I was unaware that San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, had more than 300 brothels, rivaling the others in this industry.  “Commercial sexual exploitation of children in Costa Rica could involve as many as 5,000 sex ‘tourists’ every year.”

Photo borrowed from Rahab Foundation's page

Photo borrowed from Rahab Foundation’s page

The reason this shocked me so much is that I was in San Jose two summers ago on a mission trip.  I saw some of the areas from where the victims are lured.  Costa Rica is not a poor country, but the difference between the haves and the have-nots is enormous, making the have-nots perfect for such injustices.  Costa Rica is also a huge tourist destination, and some tourists like to take part in the ‘local attractions.’ Many of those families cannot afford to exist together, and most of these young people will not be able to attend school for long.  What other options do they have?

My mission team first expected to work with the Rahab Foundation, located in San Jose to help restore and reintegrate families involved in prostitution, but the schedule would not permit, so we worked with  Roblealto Child Care Association instead, where we were able to work with at risk kids who are cared for in a way that will give them hope and prevent them from entering prostitution.  Seeing these young kids, it is hard to think of the dangers they face, and I am glad organizations such as these exist.  Perhaps one day, after I learn better Spanish communication, I can get back to San Jose and work with these organizations to show unconditional love and hope to these young people.