Posts filed under ‘Reasons Why’
Haul you need is love
I was raised in a family that celebrated every holiday it could. I suspect that comes, in part, from the fact that Momma Buns is the queen of many things, including finding the perfect paper goods for any occasion — on sale — at Party City. As my sister and I grew up, she put that talent to the test as often as possible. I remember waking up to find that Momma Buns had decorated the kitchen with red foil hearts and made pancakes (a rare treat on a school morning). Other years, I remember her sitting with me while I scrawled my classmates’ names on Snoopy Valentine’s cards, or my whole family passing gifts wrapped in pink tissue paper around the dinner table. (As I grew older, mine was usually a romantic comedy or super-weeper newly out on video. Untamed Heart, anyone?)
So even though I know that many people think Valentine’s Day is manufactured, romantic silliness, for me, it brings to mind really great celebrations of the deep affection my family and I have for each other. So I love it. And I love you guys. In the spirit of that love-fest— even though the actual holiday was yesterday — I’m going to unabashedly share some fitness-related stuff (plus a few randoms) that makes my heart sing. Cool?
“Golden Years” by David Bowie
I first heard it in the movie A Knight’s Tale, which makes me uncool. But my adoration of choreographed dance scenes already makes me uncool, so whatever. Now, the song is on my running playlist—and it’s very useful as a workday afternoon mood-booster, too.
Love Your Muscles with Crunch
Savasana
Toward the end of every yoga class, the instructor asks everyone to lay on their backs, heels together, toes flopped apart, arms by their sides, palms open. Sometimes our eyes are open; often, they’re closed. We lay in this position, known as savasana (suh-VAH-snah) or “corpse pose”, and relax everything. Sounds like sleeping, you say. It’s seriously close, but so much better. Often, the poses right before savasana are challenging, and laying down and focusing only on breathing and relaxing seems like a reward. In Bikram yoga, sometimes the only thing that gets me through a rough class is the thought of how sweet the savasana will be at the end. I lay on my mat and think about how the ground is supporting me, holding me up, and how I don’t have to do anything except find little snarls of tension in my body and then let them go. Even if you’re not into yoga, try giving yourself a few minutes of motionless chill-out time after a tough workout sometime. It’s pretty awesome.
Puma’s Dizzy Barrel Bag
When my old gym bag bit it, I tried to make do with tote bags and backpacks and the like. No good. I resisted buying a new one because I didn’t want something huge and clunky, but I needed something big enough to fit a change of clothes, my sneakers, and toys like my interval timer, my iPod, a magazine, my weight gloves, etc. Behold, Puma’s Dizzy Barrel Bag. It’s pretty great, kind of stylish, and (right now) on sale! Gym bag woes, cured.
So cute, right?
I’d love to hear what gets your heart pumping, too. Gadgets and gear? Workouts? Instructors? Personal accomplishments? Something completely unrelated to fitness but awesome nonetheless? Tell us about it in the comments section.
CONTEST: Five lines to glory
You budding bards may be wondering exactly what you’ll win if your poem is chosen in the Haul Buns haiku contest. Aside from the admiration of your fellow haulers, the authors of the top two haikus will win DVD copies of My Run: The Terry Hitchcock Story.
My Run is a documentary about Hitchcock, the Santa-looking guy on the left in the awesome track suit, a widower who ran the equivalent of 75 marathons in 75 days to raise awareness about the challenges single-parent families face. If it sounds a little strange, it is; Hitchcock was a middle-aged guy in just-okay health who hadn’t run very much before he undertook his journey. But his story is also incredibly moving, especially if you’ve ever gone about doing something that seemed absolutely impossible at the outset. My Run is super motivating, especially for runners; when it was in theaters, my run group went, and we cried like babies.
Thanks to the folks at My Run for providing the DVDs for the giveaway!
Watch the trailer below, and then start crafting those haikus!
Be silly. Have fun. And please don’t take yourself seriously. Send your haikus to haulbuns [AT] gmail [DOT] com. Feel free to submit as many times as you like by 11:59 p.m. EDT on Thursday, Sept. 22, 2011.
Bring Your Sneakers to Work day
This Friday is Run at Work Day, according to the Road Runners Club of America. Since the RRCA are the good people who saw fit to make me a running coach, I wanted to spread the word. It’s a pretty good idea, regardless of whose it was: I’ve slowly worked my way back to doing something active on my lunch break — I was really good about it when I started my current job almost two years ago, but then I got lazy. For the past few months, I’ve made a point to get out of the office for an afternoon treadmill seession or Spinning class a couple of times a week, and it really makes me feel better about work, life, stress, all of it. (Isn’t it annoying when the fitness magazines are right?) If you get any kind of break in your day, a brisk walk (or any kind of physical activity, really) is better than coffee, chocolate, or any of those old reliables we use to keep us going.
I know. You’re so busy. Or you don’t have a set lunch break. Or the company will grind to a halt without you. Screw it. Your health and happiness are more important than whether Larry in Accounting has his TPS reports by 3 p.m. In fact, why don’t you ask Larry if he wants to walk or run with you? Pretty soon, you and Larry will be the cool kids. Everyone in the office will want to be part of your run/walk club. You’ll have to put people on a waiting list. There’ll be team shirts, jackets, water bottles! Bob Harper will show up, begging you to tell him your secret to motivating people to lead healthy lives. And you’ll pause in your lunchtime 5K to say, “Well, there’s this awesome blog I read called Haul Buns…”
Bam. Now, who’s in?!?
Will it help if I tell you Larry from Accounting looks like this?
"Hi! Want an excuse to get sweaty with me?"
Does your hairdo stop you?
Today’s Chicago Tribune features an editorial on women’s attention to their hair may be getting in the way of them getting a good workout. Any dudes reading this are all, “Does… not… compute.” But I’m sure plenty of you faithful female Haulers have had at least one instance in which you had to decide whether exercising was worth the time and effort necessary to clean up your sweaty self afterwards. I know this can be an issue for women of color; it’s a regular topic of conversation among the awesome chicks at Black Girls Run. Even U.S. Surgeon General Regina Benjamin has something to say about the fact that women who’ve recently gotten their hair done may skip a workout or two in order to maintain the look a little bit longer.
“Oftentimes you get women saying, ‘I can’t exercise today because I don’t want to sweat my hair back or get my hair wet,'” she said in a recent story in The New York Times. “I hate to use the word ‘excuse,’ but that’s one of them.”
I can understand why you wouldn’t want to mess up hair you just paid someone a whole lot of money to make pretty — it’s the main reason I haven’t cut my hair shorter than shoulder length in three years. If I can’t pull it back into a ponytail, it means I have to dry and do it — which won’t work. Mainly, that’s because I am a A) lazy and B) a slob. Though I always shower after my lunchtime workouts, sometimes there’s just not enough time to shampoo, condition, dry and style my mop. Today, in fact, I happen to be rocking the “I-came-straight-to-work-from-bootcamp” hair, the linchpin of which is a well-placed hairband. (The braid doesn’t hurt, either.)
You'd never know, right?
Yes, guys, I’m gross. But I smell lovely (I promise!), cutting back on twice-a-day washings has made my hair much healthier, and — most importantly — today’s workout is DONE. Join the revolution! Sweaty heads unite!
The Buns are back
February 24.
That was the last time I hauled my own buns to the computer to post something here. Six months of thinking about stuff to post, seeing cool stuff I wanted to link to, fretting about not getting a post up on a day I’d planned it, vowing to get off my virtual tush and publish something awesome the next day.
Six months of excuses and lameness. It ends today.
It’s not like I’ve been laying around re-watching all of the Harry Potter movies in order… well, actually, I have been doing that. but not just that. For instance, there was this (details to come later):
It—and the move from the dirty Jerz to Manhattan that accompanied it—took up a big chunk of my summer. And while I am extremely happy and adjusting to living with a boy in wedded bliss, it’s taken me quite some time to get myself in order.
I realized today that I was totally falling for the “If I can just ______ and _______, conditions will be perfect for me to do what I really want to do” fallacy. I think you know what I’m talking about. Your blanks may be “get the kids in bed before 9 and get myself in bed before midnight” or “find a new job and lose five pounds” or “organize my sock drawer and figure out how to turn dryer lint into currency.” But it’s all hooey, and we know it; we just forget it every once in a while.
So I’m back, haulers, just as I am: in need of a haircut, a little squidgy around the upper arms, still figuring out how to get my workout groove on, still fighting a daily battle with the Pepperidge Farm Sausalito cookies lurking in my coworker’s snack drawer. (BTW, an entire bag of those chocolate-and-macadamia-nut puppies will run you 40 PointsPlus values. Don’t ask me why I know that. YOU’RE WELCOME.)
But I’m here. And hopefully, you still are, too.
Fairy Tales and Fat Jokes
Ringer and Angle
I promise, this blog isn’t going to turn into HatredForAnyoneWhoEverCalledAnyoneFatInPrint.com. But I couldn’t let Alastair Macaulay’s sour take on the New York City Ballet’s current Sugar Plum Fairy pass without opening it up for discussion.
A little background: Macaulay, a ballet critic for The New York Times, reviewed City Ballet’s current production of The Nutcracker at the end of last month. He liked it, but pointed out that Sugar Plum Fairy Jennifer Ringer “looked as if she’d eaten one sugar plum too many.” The body critique extended to Jared Angle, who dances the part of the Cavalier; Macaulay wrote, Angle “seems to have been sampling half the Sweet realm.”
When readers wrote in to complain, Macaulay penned another piece defending his position. Ballet is all about bodies, he argued. If you can’t handle the scrutiny, toss your toeshoes in the trash for good.
Then, Ringer appeared on Today on Monday, talking about the controversy. The ballerina, who has previously discussed her history of anorexia and compulsive eating, handled questions gracefully.
“As a dancer, I do put myself out there to be criticized, and my body is part of my art form. At the same time, I’m not overweight. I do have, I guess, a more womanly body type than the stereotypical ballerina. But that’s one of the wonderful things about, actually, the New York City Ballet is we have every body type you can imagine. We have tall, we have petite, we have athletic, we have womanly, we have waiflike. I mean, we have every body type out there, and they can all dance like crazy, they’re all gorgeous. And I think dance should be more of a celebration of that, of seeing these beautiful women with these different bodies all dancing to this gorgeous music, and that’s what should be celebrated.”
She added that she doesn’t want an apology from Macaulay. I’d add that she shouldn’t get one; what he said, though silly, is well within his realm. Critics often write things artists don’t like, and then everyone moves on.
But I’m interested in hearing what you out there in Haul nation have to say on the matter. I’m probably a little biased. As a “bigger” group fitness instructor, I have often run into people who can’t believe that I have the physical ability to lead a class in a challenging workout. Then we spend a sweaty hour together, and minds are changed. Given my experience, it took very little time for me to wholeheartedly jete onto Team Ringer. And I’m also wondering why no one’s up in arms about the comments made about Angle, a question Macaulay also raises in his rebuttal. Is it because Angle’s a dude? Do weight cracks not matter, or are they more easily dismissed, when they’re made about men? I’m all over the place, faithful Haulers. Leave comments and give me some guidance. What say you?
What do you think?
Marathon Monday
Running a marathon can be an awesome, life-affirming experience.
Watching one is nearly as good.
For the past few years, Melissa — one of the cool chicks who reads this blog — and I have cheered ING New York City Marathon runners at mile 21 in the Bronx. We usually stand at a spot right before the course rounds a corner and spits the runners out toward the Madison Avenue Bridge.
We usually arrive around 1:30 p.m., when those who’ll finish in 4:20 or longer are cruising by. Invariably, some runners are still going strong and smiling as they pass. Some are grimacing and limping. The longer we’re out there, the slower the pace. By the time we leave around 4 p.m., most marathoners are walking. Some of them are leaning on friends or volunteers or each other. They’ve got five miles and change to go, and it’s getting dark and cold.
But they keep on going. And that is a fantastic thing to see.
Now before I get all Chariots of Fire on you, let’s recap some other cool ING New York Marathon weekend stuff:
Friday fiver: I took part in the NYRR 5, a five-miler held in Central Park on Friday at 8 a.m. I was surprised at how many marathoners did the race, too; if I have to cover 26.2 miles on a Sunday, you’d better believe my feet will do as little as possible in the days before. At the finish line, I saw Jared Fogle, of Subway fame, who was there to promote his own run in the marathon. In my post-run euphoria, I yelled, “Jared, you’re awesome!” He responded in kind. Say what you will, but anyone who runs and loves Subway is fine by me.
Faces in the crowd: Meliss dubbed me a “celebrity runner spotter” because I picked out buzzed-about marathoners, such as the aforementioned Jared (who was an easy get, as he was running surrounded by four or five dudes with SUBWAY on their shirts), and Today hosts Meredith Viera (who looked genuinely excited when we cheered her name) and Al Roker (who was in pretty rough shape when he passed us). And let us not forget Chilean miner Edison Pena, who was going strong despite knee issues when he ran past. All of them wound up finishing the race.
Gazelles: Before I headed up to the Bronx, I watched the elite runners do their thing on NBC. Edna Kiplicat took first place for the women, and Gebre Gebremariam broke the tape for the men. I tried to explain to The Fiancé why watching them do their thing moves me in a way that watching other pro athletes does not. “I don’t know how tough it is to play baseball or football, not really. But I know how hard it is to run, no matter who you are, and they make it look effortless and beautiful.”
Double duty: This chick, a documentary filmmaker, strapped a camera to her hat and filmed the entire race. WARNING: If you get motion sick easily, you may not want to watch.
Next year, in Staten Island…: So all of this ING New York Marathon fever has gotten to me, because I’m making plans to do it myself in 2011. If I complete four more New York Road Runners races before the end of the year, I’m guaranteed entry through their 9+1 program. (Very cool; tri-state area runners, check it out.) And yes, I’m still likely going to have problems with my feet next year. And yes, the last time I did New York I walk-ran the last few miles because of a tight IT band. But if the insanely inspiring athletes I saw in wheelchairs, on prosthetics, without sight and/or hearing can make the commitment, so can I.
Doesn’t hurt, of course, that Tiffany is now offering a line of ING New York Marathon commemorative items. You hear that, TF?
It doesn’t have to suck, people
Yeah, not so much.
On Tuesday, I tried out a new-to-me yoga studio in the Flatiron Distrcit of Manhattan. The place I’d been practicing, Laughing Lotus, was great. But my month-long card expired there, and I got a deal on a month of unlimited classes at this new joint, so I switched.
The minute I walked in, I wasn’t sure I liked the vibe of the place. It felt kind of corporate. Everyone was speaking in hushed tones. And a quick glance at the ladies clustered in the corner and sipping tea as they waited for the 7:15 vinyasa class gave me pause; they were near-carbon copies of each other, right down to their lean torsos, bored expressions, white tank tops and black Lululemon pants. I seriously thought there might have been a dress-code notice I’d missed. I only relaxed a little bit when some equally toned and joyless-looking individuals showed up. At least their shirts were different colors.
I know you’re supposed to leave all of your preconceived notions outside the door, but dude, these chicks freaked me out a little. As the class progressed, it became clear that many of them had quite lovely yoga practices. They could bend themselves into pretty little pretzels, seemingly with ease. But no one seemed excited about it.
The teacher was very good. The poses were challenging. I don’t know what was up; I don’t pretend to know what everyone else in the class was thinking or feeling, but it just didn’t seem like my classmates were having any kind of fun whatsoever. The only moment of levity I witnessed took place when I completely fell out of a side plank after grabbing my right big toe with my right hand and trying to extend both toward the ceiling. I landed on my mat and lamely said, “Well, that went well.” The chick to my left smiled.
It was a lot like the gym I worked out at in graduate school, a gorgeous facility populated by incredibly thin, incredibly fit women (and men). The women especially worked out with an intensity that was a little scary. I took a class at that gym a few weeks ago; the women were still thin, their faces still dead-set on wringing every last calorie out of their movements.
I much prefer the feel of places like Laughing Lotus, Feminine Fitness, and the New York Sports Club I teach at in Butler. There, you find people of all different body types and sizes who are trying to make something positive happen in their lives. They have varying degrees of success, but they show up and they try, and they usually have a good time.
I witnessed the same thing yesterday, when I volunteered at the New York City Marathon expo. My job was to greet people at the entrance and point them in the right direction. I talked with new runners and old runners, thin runners and fat runners, tall runners and short runners and in-between runners. Without fail, they were excited to be there and to be part of something so huge. I wished them a good run on Sunday, and they thanked me with huge grins — even the people who said they were freaked beyond belief.
I’ll keep going back to the new yoga place, at least for the month. I’ll let you know how it goes.
I’m not asking for much, but don’t you think there’s something to be said for enthusiasm?
After all, is there anyone who WON’T be pulling for Chilean miner Edison Pena at this Sunday’s marathon?
Vaya!
Mama Yoga
I’ve had babies on the brain lately. Not because people who ask about my wedding plans find it perfectly polite to segue into a conversation about my reproductive viability, even though many do. But a couple of really important ladies in my life recently decided it’s time for them to be mommies, so I’ve found myself having conversations about birth plans and fertility drugs and the pros and cons of being pregnant in summer vs. winter, and vice versa. It’s surreal. It’s awesome.
It’s not for me, not just yet.
However, I just may be swayed — especially when people like my friend, Marin, make it look both so chic and fulfilling. (How many things can you say that about?) I’m not the only one who thinks so; when a Chicago television station produced a piece about mom-and-baby yoga, Marin and her three-month-old daughter, Calli, were the natural stars. Marin is the hot mama in the white top sitting cross-legged while she talks with the reporter. Check out how zen Calli is! And then there are always the inspirational ladies at Run Like a Mother, some of whom finish — and dominate! — races just weeks before their due dates.
I will say this: When my time to procreate arrives, I will most certainly make myself a shirt like the one I saw a runner wear several years ago. It stuck with me, mainly because she was in front of me pretty much the whole course. The shirt’s back read: “Eight months pregnant and STILL kicking your ass.”
Out in the Haulosphere
I don’t know how many of you saw Marie Claire’s pretty horrible riff on Mike & Molly, the new CBS sitcom about two plus-size Overeaters Anonymous members in love. After Maura Kelly blogged about it last week for the magazine, the response was kind of insane. Check out “Should ‘Fatties’ Get a Room?” (scroll down to get to the post); you’ll also be able to read Kelly’s explanation/apology and the thousands of comments—both for and against—that followed.
You guys know that Haul Buns is all about your attitude and your willingness to work hard, and I could care less about your pants size or your bikini-readiness. But even the most upbeat of us gets a little body-conscious every now and then. Instead of going on and on about how stupid, bigoted, and incredibly harmful I think the Marie Claire piece is, I’ll instead highlight the thoughts of two awesome bloggers who occasionally swing by this site.
First, for those of you who missed Maggie’s comment on my wedding gown travails, check out her classy F-off to a Texas bridal boutique. (And when you have a minute, poke around both her wedding blog, Eat, Drink, Marry, and her all-kinds-of-awesome site, Freckled Citizen.) Maggie and I have been friends since college, and the only thing that keeps me from being insanely jealous of her talent, beauty, and wit is her kind heart and sweet self. (Plus, there’s a good chance she has some photos of me that I’d rather not see on the Interwebs.)
Then head over to Such a Pretty Face, where Carla Sosenko has a fantastic as-told-to piece about plus-size dating in this day and age. Carla regularly blogs and tweets about dating and body image, among other stuff, and her voice is wickedly funny and dead-on. (She’s also a hard-core copy editor, which means she’ll know whether I correctly hyphenated “dead-on” in the previous sentence. AND she has a ridiculously awesome sense of style, which means I covet her shoes on a regular basis.) Carla’s own story about trying to get guys to see past the superficial, What the Guys I Date Don’t Know, was published in Marie Claire earlier this year.
Once you’ve read, let the ladies know what you think!
Haul Buns 