Run, Doozer, Run

Top tumblr crushes of the week (because, let’s face it, I’m crushing on all of you rockstars):

• robindoesrunning
• thefameofhealthandfitness
• lindsaydoeslife
• boyswanna-be-her
• bendoeslife
• regainingmymoxy
• simplyaimee
• skinnybitchwinsagain
• runwithrach

As I was working all day, the news has just informed me that there was a deadly shooting at Cafe Racer (U District) and a carjacking downtown, both of which claimed lives. The cafe shooter took his own life, and the carjacker is still at large.

For the life of me, I cannot understand why people kill each other. For any reason, ever. It seems to happen so often in big cities, and it makes my heart sad. My prayers and thoughts are with the families of the victims tonight.

I miss Montana.

Run with Rach: "Experience is what you get when you didn't get what you wanted."

runwithrach:

All I wanted was a marathon medal. It wasn’t that easy.

Rewind 8 years. I was just coming back to running after having my daughter. I had a successful 5k, followed quickly by a great 10k experience. I set my sights on greater things: the marathon.

Why not spend six months building up my mileage…

An important lesson to be learned: Never Give Up. Never.

runwithrach, you inspire me.

GPOYW: I’m a military helicopter pilot, y’all! Edition.

Fun Doozer fact #21: I’m terrified of fans. Terrified. And not just fans, per se; any object with spinny-death-blade thingies that even reminds me of a fan?! Yeah, I’ll punt that sucker into the next dimension before it can say boo. Fans = DEATH. Not having it.

Which brings us to this moment in time pictured above, the moment I was dragged kicking and screaming towards decided to face my fears and hopped inside a military helicopter (which, unless you have no working concept of how helicopters fly, is basically a tiny, claustrophobic capsule attached directly to the underbelly of a big effing FAN) to learn something new and exciting. The very nice pilot man offered me a seat in his chair while he explained the mechanics of all the buttons and switches…it was fascinating and I’m glad I did it.

Especially because now that I’ve gotten it out of the way, I’ll never have to do it again. *happy dance squeak fest*

Not the workout I planned on having this evening, but a workout was accomplished nonetheless. *I win*

My body and the pre-run snack I ate decided to be enemies (for the first time ever, and I assume for funsies), so internal chaos ensued for a few hours. I’ll spare you guys the lovely details (you’re welcome) and simply state that things were NOT bueno. Before hitting le gym, I did a test lap around the parking lot to see if things were calm enough to run, and…yeah, they weren’t.

So, instead of running all the miles (which, trust me, would have only made things…uh…worse), I went all old school and did several circuits of push-ups, sit-ups, tri pushups and leg raises. Not ideal, but @follow-your-devotion and I made a deal to hold each other accountable for our workouts today, and NO WAY was I about to break my end of the agreement, running or not. (Those missed miles are being run before work tomorrow, by the by, because no miles can escape a determined Doozer. None.)

P.S. I’m bringing sexy back (yep).

Thanks to your awesomeness, le gym has been rescheduled under ‘mandatory’ and erased from the ‘only if I feel like it slash awake enough to go’ list. I’m glad we can hold each other accountable today…you rock hardcore!

Let’s make these miles our playthings.

This is my friend Pierce Crowley. He went missing on friday May 25th near the white plains train station in new york. On twitter we are trying to make him a trending topic. I would really appreciate it if you could take 2 seconds out of your time to reblog this. We will find out Pierce if its the last thing we do <3. #FindPierce 

DO NOT KEEP SCROLLING PAST THIS PHOTO. IF YOU SEE THIS PICTURE PLEASE REBLOG IT BECAUSE IT IS SO IMPORTANT FOR HIM TO BE FOUND. HIS FRIENDS AND FAMILY MISS HIM AND NEED HIM HOME. IF YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM PLEASE MESSAGE ME OR CALL THE POLICE OR ANYTHING. WE NEED TO FIND HIM. #FindPierce

You never know where he may be. Hey, West Coasters, reblog for Pierce and his family.

(via runlojorun)

betternikki:

rinceya:

Preach! 

andellasaid:

I tend to write one of these posts every year, whether I’m trying to convince myself of something; or reaffirming something I should believe; or some soapbox I’m getting on because I think everyone should sit down, shut up, and listen to me. Because, you know, I think my opinion is that important. (I mean, like, obviously I think that; I have a blog.) But every year, I feel compelled to say it, and if I sound like a broken record, oh, well. So be it. Kelly Clarkson sounds like a broken record with every female empowerment post-break up song she puts out and nobody seems to have a big problem with it.

The thing is, every time it becomes too hot to deal with jeans anymore, the world seems to stage some sort of battle against legs. Against thighs. Against thighs touching. Against the firmness of thighs or lack thereof. And I get it, I do. I wouldn’t willingly wear a crop top shirt out in public because I’d rather not show how I, along with about 95% of human beings, don’t have “washboard abs” or whatever. People, we’ve invented washing machines for a reason; having a washboard really shouldn’t be that important. But for some reason, it’s also taboo to reveal the fact that we have legs, and that legs come in all sizes and look different and sometimes touch, when most pants and jeans and leggings reveal this, too. Those pieces of clothing just don’t show as much skin.

Here’s the deal: my thighs touch. They always have. They always will. When I was a size 2 and eating 600 calories a day, they touched. They touched all the way through my half marathon. My bone structure dictates that they will probably always touch, and I am okay with that. That doesn’t mean that they don’t chafe sometimes, but it’s not alright to call it chub rub. My legs aren’t chubby. And even if they were, how kind is it to say something with such a derogatory connotation? Would you say your best friend is chubby? Would you say they had thunder thighs? Would you tell your best friend that she really shouldn’t wear shorts? If you did, you’d probably know it was a bit bitchy to say so, no matter how “brutally honest” you were trying to be. The key word there is “brutal,” not “honest.”

Why, then, is it okay to talk to ourselves and about our own bodies that way?

You don’t have thunder thighs. Sorry. But you don’t. You have legs, and yes, part of that leg is called the thigh. It’s the region between your hip and your knee cap. Beyonce has thighs. Gisele has thighs. So does Melissa McCarthy and Michelle Obama and David Beckham, because dudes have legs too, and if you have a leg, you’ve got a thigh. That’s how anatomy freaking works.

I used to say I had drumstick legs, the way a chicken drumstick is thick and then tapers off. But the only people whose legs don’t taper at least a little? Those are babies, with their rubber band ankles and legs that are shorter than their bodies. My legs make up 68% of my body, from hip to toe. I’ve measured and done the math. And if I want to wear shorts, so be it. It’s futile to wish my legs were matchstick thin. It wouldn’t be wrong if they’d been built like that but it’s not wrong that 9 years of dancing and 5 years of running and having genetics that won’t make that happen naturally kind of put the kibosh on all those sample size plans. It’s not fair to those legs to call them names, drumstick or thunder or otherwise.

It’s also dumb to bemoan cellulite because you’re basically complaining about the way evolution has decided to store tissue. You really think you’re smarter than millions of years of evolution? Just because Cosmo tells us it’s a sin? Seriously?

Instead of focusing on the so-called flaws, let’s think of things in a positive light. I’ll go first.

Here is what my legs can do: Run a half marathon. Dead lift 100 pounds. Power through 20kg kettle bell swings. Dance. Look really good in heels and skirts and dresses and yes, shorts.

Here is what my legs can’t do: give even half a damn if you think they’re too big or shouldn’t be in shorts.

They can’t. They won’t.

Why should yours be able to care, either? That’s not what legs were meant to do.

So refreshing to find a positive, profanity-free “rant.”

This. Exactly this. All the infinities this.

After hearing rave reviews from so many of you rockstars, I finally purchased a RoadID for myself. I’m wicked stoked because it has my new (married) last name on it and it’s yellow. Yellow, you guys! *happy dance*

As a thank you for my purchase, Road ID emailed me a coupon code for $1 off any Road ID order placed by June 28, 2012. This code is good for 20 uses, and I knew just the kind of crazy kids who would benefit from the discount…

(It’s you guys, silly.)

It’s only $1 off, I realize, but hey…free dollar! They come in multiple colors and styles, too, and they even have ones for kids and pets, which I think is pretty fantabulous.

If you have any specialized medical issues or allergies to medications, I definitely suggest investing in one. In the event that you are in an accident/incident during a race (or during training, on a hike, bike, swim, etc.) and are unable to speak first responders, a Road ID may save your life.