Only in LA...

For the next 10 glorious days I will be in sunny southern California, spending my time in Los Angeles and San Diego and everywhere in between. In honor of this trip, I've resurrected an old list I made some time last year about all the crazy things you see and do only in Los Angeles. Here are a few of the unique quirks about the city that I could think of off the top of my head. If you happen to live in La Leezy or have any fun stereotypes or generalizations you make about other people that live here, please add them to the list! All in good fun....

ONLY IN LA
......do you valet your car when you go to the gym


ONLY IN LA
......do you wear ugg boots with a mini skirt and tank top


ONLY IN LA
.....is Dr. 90210 actually YOUR doctor


ONLY IN LA
.....does Fabio let you merge on the 405 as he sits in his convertible while his hair blows in the wind 


ONLY IN LA
.....do you get more text messages from club promoters than your actual friends


ONLY IN LA
.....is Starbucks an actual diet fad (which is why you cannot go half a block without seeing one)


ONLY IN LA
.....do people stay home from work when it rains


ONLY IN LA
.....is every other person you meet a model (slash) actor 


ONLY IN LA
.....are headshots required with your resume


ONLY IN LA
....do people drive benzes but live with their momma


ONLY IN LA
.....do you find the freeways always under construction but nobody ever working on them


ONLY IN LA
.....is your nightly news a recap of all the celebrity gossip


ONLY IN LA
.....is everything 20 min away but never takes 20 min to get there


ONLY IN LA
.....do you turn on your central heat when it reaches 65 degrees


ONLY IN LA
.....are basketball games a celebrity meet and greet and a chance to wear your best outfit


ONLY IN LA
.....can you take TaeBo with Billy Blanks himself


ONLY IN LA
.....can you blame plastic for the fact that your grandma and your sister look about 10 years apart


ONLY IN LA
.....do you recycle grocery bags and drive a Hummer


ONLY IN LA
.....is there a need for two cell phones at a minimum


ONLY IN LA
.....is there no such thing as "rush hour", just "every hour"


ONLY IN LA
.....do you know there are stars in the sky but not really what they look like


ONLY IN LA
.....do you not even bother to find who the paparazzi are waiting for outside Whole Foods


ONLY IN LA
.....do you need to have very high and unshakeable self-esteem because there always seems to be 5 better looking versions of you every time you turn around.


Networking on the red carpet

While I was in Boston this past weekend I had the opportunity to attend this fancy gala that was part Oscar party and part fundraiser for Breast Cancer. I guess Boston does their best imitation of Hollywood come Oscar time and they pull out their red carpets and fancy gowns and pretend that there isn’t snow on the ground and real movie stars anywhere to be found. Well, I guess Ben Affleck is from Boston but he wasn’t at this party. I did see some actress I recognized from something I couldn’t quite recall. Anyway, our marketing guy extraordinaire (shout out to Stephen!) scored us a VIP invite, complete with Limo Service and a promise of a gift bag. I figured it probably topped the list of fun things to do in Bean Town so I accepted. Seeing as how I hadn’t planned on going to any black tie affair I was forced to go shopping in order to find something suitable to wear and lucky for me our hotel just happened to be attached to a mall.

My agent went big time and scored a suit from Hugo Boss but seeing as how I had no real need for a big time gown because parties in Tucson rarely call for such extravagant attire, I found a suitable frock at Arden B. and shoes from Aldo, your typical mall stores and the most affordable thing to be found at this particular mall. So, Jamie Nieto and I, along with our agent Paul made our way to this party and had ourselves a good time.

Somehow Jamie and I got cornered into doing an on-camera interview with lord knows who. They had a camera and a microphone and they wanted to talk to us so we were game. I had noticed upon arrival that these people had actual gowns on. It looked as if they had been on their way to the actual Oscars and somehow missed their flight so they decided to come to this party instead. That’s fine…I didn’t feel terribly out of place in my little off the rack, mall dress until the lady in the microphone tried to call me out. At the end of the interview she asks me what I’m wearing. Excuse me? Joan Rivers is it? I’m really not about to say that this dress is from an upscale Forever 21 with no actual designer attached to it. At least if it was BCBG or something I could say Max Azaria but this dress is made by some no name person in a factory somewhere across the ocean probably. So I simply said “that’s a very good question.” Jamie, who didn’t even bother to go shopping, tells her he’s wearing Guess. He should of at least said Marciano, right?!

I did, however, learn a very valuable lesson at this party that I’m really going to try and implement more. Jamie happens to be a networking guru and is extremely adept at selling himself and making the most of what he does and what he’s accomplished. At every turn he’s handing out his athlete card and introducing himself and talking up the fact that he’s an Olympian and an Olympic hopeful for 2008. I, on the other hand, am never good at talking myself up because on some level I feel as if I have not really done anything worth mentioning and there is nothing about me people will find fascinating. It’s a complex I have due to the fact that I am always focused on what I haven’tdone and what is still yet to be accomplished. Who cares if I am an Olympic hopeful if I have never been to the Olympics? But he assured me that people do care and are genuinely interested and intrigued. Maybe he’s right. Or maybe I’ll just continue to tell people I’m on page 46 of the swimsuit issue. :)

Yes, they're real!

LOL...no, not those! In fact, parts of this picture are very much not in any way a real representation of my body. But who am I to complain??!! The one question I have received more than any other after my debut as a Bud girl though, is if those are really my abs. I must assume that those of you who pose that question don't know me. And what people love to ask after viewing is how they can get their stomach like mine. The simple answer is...you can't. I'm 99% sure that the majority of the population will not be able to replicate this in their local 24 hour fitness. If you are still dead set on giving it a shot though, my most helpful advice is the following...

*Become a track athlete: The reason you see so many hard bodies when you watch a track meet is not by accident. The way we train and what we do in training creates very defined bodies. We tend to have very low body fat percentage and so much of what we do builds our core and most events call for a very strong core. This does not necessarily mean we spend hours upon hours doing actual crunches. I've tried that 8 minute ab video. No thanks. Of course, the things we do in our training serves a specific purpose and looking good in our sports bras is only an added benefit.

*Watch what you eat: I won't say too much about this because I eat what I want and for the most part it doesn't make a difference in my body since I work out so much. But I will say that there are probably tons of people with rock hard abs underneath a few layers. You've got to remove the layers!

*Have good genetics: Unfortunately this one is something you won't really be able to improve on your own. I had a six pack when I was 9 years old. Literally. I don't know why and I don't know how...but some of you out there wouldn't need digital enhancement to the top of your bathing suit so call it EVEN!

So how 'bout them Dodgers?

I'm really excited to start training hard for outdoor season. The End.

...and the jury is still out on the headband. D.O. and Aub called it gratuitous attention. But what do they know...they are boys. :)

Wish me Luck!!!

Today I arrived in Boston to compete at the Indoor Championships. After my last competition some of you might be wondering what my state of mind is going into this weekend. Well I’m here to tell you it’s quite fantastic. I am well aware that as a track and field athlete it is imperative that you have a short-term memory when it comes to performances that might not be up to par. So I’ve moved on and I am claiming amnesia.

In my previous post about my meet in Birmingham I mentioned that the time I ran there might have been the worst in my career. Well it seems I was a tad bit overdramatic. When I told my coach that he assured me that it was not. I had ran slower a few times but beyond that, my PR in the 60 meters from college came the week after I had run a time almost virtually identical to what I ran last weekend.

There are many things I am still trying to figure out when it comes to the mental aspect of this sport, which in my opinion is more important than anything. I have realized in the post-collegiate part of my career that one of the most vital keys to my success in college was that I had an incredible ability to focus only on what was important and forget all the rest. Sure, I would get pissed off about bad performances but I always forgot them rather quickly and I never made it affect my outlook for the future. I never second-guessed my ability or what I was capable of and I always showed up to a competition with an overwhelming confidence that I would do well…at the very least better than everyone else who was lined up next to me. Seriously. The crazy thing is it worked 99.9% of the time. I notice what a gift that was only now, when I am working on regaining that belief in myself that is not so easily shaken.

This is my first year back training and competing as a serious sprinter in many years and I know that in some ways it’s a process and I need to be patient. Well, as patient as you can be when the goal is to peak and be better than everyone else in the country by the end of June! I’ve been doing a lot of positive things in practice that haven’t quite made their way to a race yet, but it’s there—and a debut of these improvements on Sunday would be nice. I know the 60 meters is not my specialty and I can’t say I’ve ever been spectacular at it, but the athlete I am right now at this point of the season is better than what has been shown so far and I know that so it’s just important for me to compete like I know that.

So…wish me luck. And pray. And throw a penny or two into the fountain. And then turn on the T.V. to ESPN 2 Sunday afternoon and check me out. You know what to look for…the hair, styling, whether the fries I ate for dinner made their way to my love handles, etc. I might be wearing a new, sparkly headband courtesy of my friend Jennie who says it’s good luck and since it’s done so well for her I figured I might give it a shot. But I’m not sure about it so I’ll need feedback. I’m counting on you.

Who Pays?: A Debate

I was talking to my friend the other day about a dating experience she had experienced that had my jaw on the ground. And you know the first thought that came to my mind? I wish it had happened to me…so I could write about it on my BLOG! I don’t know what that really says about me…the fact that I have no life of my own that I am wishing to have horrible dating experiences simply so I could sit down and write about them during the day and thus kill two birds with one stone—something to do at night AND something to entertain my readers. But alas, this did not happen to me but I decided not to let that stop me. I can still kill one bird. So here goes…

A friend of my friend had been chatting with a guy she met over the phone for a few weeks and one night he called her up to see if she’d like to go out to dinner. He also said she could bring a friend and his cousin to come along just to make the evening more of a fun, innocent, double dating experience. That sounds fun, right? Some great food, a cocktail or two (or some Perrier!), a cute guy to flirt with…sounds like my kind of fun. Well for most of the evening, that’s exactly what it was. They met up at Trader Vic’s, a swanky little restaurant in the heart of Beverly Hills, and everything was fabulous until…

…Until the check came. I’m sure you can see where this is headed. One of the guys had credit cards that kept being declined and the other guy had a whopping $20 bucks to offer. He wasn’t even carrying a wallet AND this whole date was his idea in the first place. That’s fine and all if you were treating someone to Burger King but it does not cut it anywhere in 90210. So my two friends paid the bill. The whole experience was drawn out and a tad embarrassing for all involved I’m sure. And maybe if the guys had been overly apologetic about the whole situation it could have been more easily forgiven but this was not the case. When the two gentlemen made there way outside my two friends slipped out the side door and made a quick get-a-way. Was this a bit extreme? Maybe. But sometimes lessons need to be learned the hard way. This man had just made the worst first impression on a first date and he didn’t seem too bothered by it so it serves him right.

I think we all know how I feel about men paying for checks on first dates. If you perhaps need a bit of a refresher feel free to read this blog I wrote on the subject a while back. if I’m payin’ we ain’t datin’. Maybe I should get that on a t-shirt. But perhaps I am not in the majority when it comes to this issue and maybe in this groundbreaking year of women running for president and whatnot it is time to re-evaluate just who is responsible for the check at the end of the night. Is it up for negotiation? Does it matter who suggests the outing in the first place? Is it reason enough to not consider date #2 if as a woman you had to come out of pocket the first time around? Please share your thoughts and I’ll put up a poll in the top right hand corner so you can vote and make this official… for those of you who aren’t ready to share your thoughts in writing just yet.

EDIT: While this has nothing to do with the debate or the ongoing discussion, I felt compelled to share the final straw to this unbelieveable story. I thought it was bad enough...but it gets worse. After my friend read the blog I wrote she told me she forgot to tell me the worst part. Supposedly the check had been divided up between cash and credit card because they had been kind enough to leave their $20 and whatever other spare change they had as a contribution. But after they realized they got left at the curb they proceeded to go back in the restaurant and TAKE BACK their cash!!! Not just their cash either...part of the cash that my friend left as well. When my friend saw that her credit card had been charged for the full amount of the bill, she called the restaurant and the manager had informed her that the two gentleman had been back in and took the cash from the check presenter and so therefore they had to charge the credit card the full amount. Let me add that this guy has money. I did not mention it earlier because I found it to be irrelevant but he's played professional football and unless he's as dumb as MC Hammer, he shouldn't be hurting that bad. I don't know what his cousin does to have four credit cards declined but that's just pathetic. In lieu of this startling revelation I feel it is my duty to have this be a public service announcement...

DO NOT DATE THIS MAN!!!

Picture of the Week: My trip to NY

I went to New York last week and my camera was obviously put to good use. The trip was a short one but we tried to make the most of our time there and make some memories.

Melanie and I decided we would be the ultimate tourists and spend some time doing a couple of things you are supposed to do in New York but somehow I've never gotten around to doing. We took the subway (gasp!) to Battery Park and then hopped on the ferry to go tour the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. At first we planned on getting off the ferry at both stops but then we learned that because we didn't have advanced reservations, we couldn't actually go inside the Statue of Liberty, just merely view it from outside. Well, since I had already captured my pictures from aboard the ferry, I saw no reason to spend more time looking at it up close. What else is the point of going besides photo ops??? None that I can think of. Besides, it had started to snow and it was freezing. So not my thing.
So we continued on to Ellis Island and spent some time there because it's kind of like an interactive museum. It was interesting for about 45 min. and then I was over it.

That night we got all dolled up to go to the SI party. I won't bore you with the 1000's of pictures that we took of ourselves-- and believe me, there were probably that many--but I will give you the requisite self portraits that I am famous for and this great picture I forced myself to take in front of this SI mural that was begging me to take my picture in front of it. The party itself was fun but the ratio of men to women was out of control. It was AT LEAST 10 to 1. Normally, you might think those would be good odds for women but it really wasn't. It was almost like a meat market and the fact that the majority of females were models probably didn't help the situation.

The next day was pre-planned as a shopping day but the weather was not cooperating and it was raining and miserable and I simply could not force myself into the shopping mood. It was probably for the best anyway. We did make sure we ate pizza though because a trip to New York without pizza is against the law. I cannot put my finger on why the pizza out there is so yummy, but it is.

I'm trippin

So like I said, sometimes it takes me a few days to gain the proper perspective. Well in this case it was only a few hours. I would have posted this sooner except that I was traveling for about 50,000 hours today. Don’t ever live in Tucson when you travel internationally. Just an FYI. Anyway, I will be in Boston next weekend. There is nothing worse I could do to myself then let that last race linger in my subconscious for the next few months…especially when I don’t have to. I already know I’m better than that, but a little stamp of approval never hurt.

In other news…I’m happy to report that all my traveling companions today showered and wore deodorant. Sometimes we must be happy for the small pleasures in life. I did, however, get stuck by an overly chatty lady on my way from England to New York who warned me beforehand how pissed she was on her way over to Europe when the in-flight entertainment wasn’t working properly and she wasn’t able to view a movie during her flight. She had mentioned if it happened again she would write in to complain and ask for a free ticket or something. sure…good luck with that one. So imagine my delight when I woke up probably 45 min or so into the flight when the meal was being served and noticed a wire running across my body. She had plugged her headphones into my jack. I guess God has a funny sense of humor and hers wasn’t working properly. She quickly turned to explain how it had been the flight attendants idea but I could go ahead and unplug it if I wanted to. Well…under normal circumstances I would have probably plugged in my headphones to watch what was playing. I had to wake up to eat anyway. Chances are though, I would have knocked back out soon after. What I didn’t understand though, is why she chose me. On the other side of her sat an old black man. It was Brooks Johnson, for those of you who know the man…they myth…the legend. And he was knocked out. And plugging into his jack would not have required a wire to be run across his body. AND I’m pretty sure the guy had no interest in watching the Nanny Diaries. But whatever. I am a nice gal and I really didn’t feel like ruining her trip so I let her watch her movie and quickly ate so I could get back to dreaming.

This one is just ugly

I might as well get it out of the way. The sooner I get it out of my system, the quicker I can just forget about it. Some races need just that—to be forgotten. Of course the problem with me documenting my life and all this year is that it really isn’t possible for me to say nothing as I would like. The normal me is like that, as my friends and family can attest to. If Bri has a bad race, just stay out of her way. I’m just the kind of person that gets pissed off when it comes to things of that nature and a positive outlook is not my method of choice for dealing with it unless I can pinpoint something equally as positive that happened to focus on instead. Needless to say, that didn’t happen.

I came 5th in my heat. Not the final…the heat. Ouch. In fact, sitting here I can’t remember when I ran that slowly in a 60 meters. Maybe as a freshman? Shoot, maybe not. Anyway, I literally almost ate it and spent the first 10 meters trying not to fall on my face and then proceeded to look up and see that the race was being run in front of me and I was in no way part of it. I was behind the winner by over .2 tenths of a second. That’s huge in a race that short. I realize that the start was absolutely horrible but it makes no sense to blame it on that seeing as how that’s kind of critical in running a good 60 meters. It’s like me blaming not running a fast time because my legs didn’t turn over fast enough or not jumping far on account of landing too early. No excuses. I just didn’t do what I was supposed to do and it showed in the result.

I am better than that, I realize this, but right now I’m not so sure I want to go all the way to Boston next weekend to prove it or just throw in the towel on indoors and continue training hard for the outdoor season. It’s a decision I will make with my coach I suppose over the next day or so but from the sound of this post I’m sure you can tell what I am leaning towards. Sometimes I need a day or two to gain the proper perspective so I’ll think some more before I give a definitive.

The one positive, although it had nothing to do with the race, was that one of the UK officials came up to tell me he reads my blog. I guess I’m a worldwide blogger now. Kind of nice to know that there are others besides my friends and family that find enjoyment in my ramblings.

G’day mate! (or is that Australian???)

Allow me to respond

For the past couple of days I’ve had way more visitors to my blog than usual. Normally I get about 200 visitors a day and since I posted about my Budweiser ad it’s been over 1000 each day. I’ve received a fair share of personal messages and a few comments about it but for the most part, a huge chunk of those people have been silent and so I have no idea what the consensus is. Perhaps I should have included a vote along with the post. But…a few of the comments I have received have made me want to respond not so much in an attempt to defend myself, but to clarify my thoughts and beliefs on the whole thing.

To a lot of people, posing “provocatively” in front of a beer bottle in my bathing suit is no big deal. But for some it is. Some of you have implied that perhaps it’s not very “Christian” like. I have also heard the notion that I come across as a little bit hypocritical because of my posts that mention how important my faith is to me and subsequently I write posts such as me at a party or me in a bikini and that seems contradicting. I don’t know that there can be a definitive right or wrong because all I do is post about ME and what I choose to do and since no person here on Earth is God, who’s to say that your personal beliefs should also be mine? My choices reflect my own morals and values and for some they will seem incredibly conservative and for others they might seem entirely too worldly and out of line with my faith. All I can say is that I make decisions based on my own convictions and whether or not they are in line with someone else’s I don’t believe that it is fair to call me out so easily when it is not possible for you to truly know me based on this blog alone.

The topic of some of the other messages I have received deals with female athletes in particular being shown in a light such as this that obviously showcases something other than our talents and whether there is a problem when the focus becomes our physical appearance. Well I think it’s obvious I don’t find a problem with it. I like the fact that I am multi-dimensional and I don’t think it makes me a sellout in any way nor should you assume that my desire to be the best athlete I can possibly be is in some way lessened. If I wasn’t an athlete I would have still wanted to be in Sports Illustrated but chances are I never would have. The fact that they didn’t ask me to pose in my uniform in the sand pit at the track is totally fine with me. The idea that “sexy” and “athlete” need to be mutually exclusive is something that I don’t quite buy in to. They can overlap and if they do, it doesn’t mean that I take being a top athlete any less serious. Don’t put me in a box.

I realize that some people still may have a problem with it and that's ok because I respect the opinions of others even when I may not agree. I can't please everybody and up until now, Sunny Delight hasn't shown interest in using me in their ad campaign. A girl's gotta eat, ya know. But I like to pose in my bathing suit…I just usually don’t have a full-size beer bottle in the background. I also have had a beer once or twice in my life. I don’t advertise or promote getting drunk because I do agree that is not Christian-like. It says in the bible not to get drunk but it doesn’t say you can’t have a beer once in a while…or maybe it was a glass of wine, but you get the point! From my experience, Anheuser-Busch is a great company to work with and I have met some outstanding people that have been extremely kind and supportive and I am truly grateful for the experience of working with them.

I have arrived!

…Well, on newsstands at least. As you have probably gathered, I have been anxiously awaiting seeing myself in print and last night I finally did. My Budweiser ad that was debuting in Sports Ilustrated is finally here and I am so excited! Now before you go shaking your head and muttering under your breath about my decision to be a “Bud Girl”, let me explain how very different this is than wearing me hot shorts and passing out free samples at the local bar. Budweiser is a sponsor for the 2008 Olympics in Beijing and they decided to do an ad campaign using Olympians (and hopefuls in my case) and partnered with the SI swimsuit issue as their biggest sponsor for this year’s issue.

Budweiser ties in with premiere parties at more than 100 on-premise locations across the country where it will hand out issues. Ads will feature an Olympic theme with a swimsuit gallery of Olympic athletes Amanda Beard, Heather Mitts and Brianna Glenn. Anheuser-Busch is also a primary party sponsor of SI’s launch party in New York. (You can read the whole article here but this was the only section that mentioned my name!)

I consider it to be a great honor to be a part of this and hopefully I hold my own against the likes of Marisa Miller and Bar Refaeli. I realize it’s only 2 ads in the magazine and I am not one of the featured models who got to go on location in the Virgin Islands or anything, but I did shoot for 3 days in Hollywood…and I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express. Shoot, even that’s not true. I didn’t even stay in a hotel since I lived 15 minutes away from the studio but they did give me car service every day!

So what do I think of the pictures??? Well the back cover that features myself, Heather Mitts (soccer), and Lovie Jung (softball) is actually quite flattering in my opinion. I was chosen to do the more backside shot because supposedly I had the best derriere but I think the best part of this shot is my legs. They look 10 miles long…as they should as high as those heels were that I was forced to wear. As for the picture inside the magazine…I’m conflicted. Originally, I think they were going to use a whole other shot (the one shown below which is NOT in the magazine) and I did like that one. However, Amanda Beard(swimming) and I shot the exact same poses and I guess they decided to use her laying down pose and my standing one which I had not laid eyes on before last night. But I don’t love it. I’m not sure if it’s because I saw the other one first and liked it better or because it’s just not that great of a shot of me. Mostly, I just think my face looks a little severe and kind of blah. But I know I am my worst critic and when it’s all said and done I still am beyond stoked that it’s ME in SPORTS ILLUSTRATED SWIMSUIT EDITION.

If you were ever wondering how much a person is airbrushed once they are in print, I am here to tell you they pretty much just give you the body they want you to have. I suppose my “track legs” were a bit too big and muscular so they slimmed them down. Supposedly boobs are a big part of swimsuit modeling so they gave me a nice rack. (you know I was happy about that!) And last night at dinner the Anheuser-Busch executives were commenting that obviously that couldn’t be my real stomach and I concurred. I told them I was pretty sure it was airbrushed a bit…to make it look LESS defined. They couldn’t believe it.

So if you haven’t got your copy yet, stop and pick one up…or just go to Borders and look at it for free. For my friends and family to cheap to buy one (read: Brittany!), I should be getting a box of them that I will gladly autograph and send to you. :)

I'm not making this up.

(in fact, it's worse. i'm just too tired to remember all the rest)


Dear passenger in 4A,

I smelled you the minute you walked on the plane and immediately I said a prayer. The flight attendant had already informed us that the flight was completely full and so I knew it would be only a matter of time before the seat next to me became occupied. There were only a few people left boarding the plane and you were one of them. As soon as you opened up the overhead bin above me to shove your bag in I knew I was doomed. I saw the sweat pits but even if I had been as blind as Ray Charles I knew what I was in for. The stench was atrocious. Seriously…why? How do you not realize how unpleasant you smell and how could you possibly think it’s ok to board a plane for 5 odd hours and subject the rest of us to unrecycled air filled with your stench. It’s just plain wrong! I realize that you aren’t from America and that perhaps where you are from there is nothing uncommon about that type of body odor. Perhaps I should give you a pass but no. You live in New York now. You told me so. That makes you subject to the same standards I hold other Americans to. And how do you add insult to injury? By deciding your sitting position of choice is with your hands raised above your head. That’s right…relax and let your pits breath why don’t you.

As soon as you sit down I get the feeling that you are overly excited to be sitting next to me. This does not make me happy. You even had a brief conversation about how pretty I was with the flight attendant. Ewww. You see, I’m a nice person but I really hate being all chit-chatty on planes. I don’t care about the gem show you were visiting in Tucson. I don’t care about what you do for a living in New York. I don’t care how Continental has very friendly flight attendants. I don’t care whom you voted for and why you think Obama has a good chance against McCain. I. Just. Don’t. Care. And why, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, did I tell you that I run track. I know better. I am a normal person with a normal 9 to 5 job that doesn’t require any further explanation or details. What do I run…How many hours do I practice…How do I make money…Where do I run at…Do I have a strict diet…How fast do I run the mile…What do I think of Marion…Am I going to the Olympics…you hit them all. You also fail to realize that I am no longer in any way trying to be polite. I don’t look up from my magazine. I give you one-word answers. I am borderline rude and yet still you trudge on. So now I’m pissed. Maybe it’s not exactly your fault that you smell but it is definitely your fault that you are making this plane trip a living hell. I would rather be sitting in the back row of the plane by the restrooms in a middle seat that doesn’t recline than sitting here next to you.

I finally decide to watch the movie even though I previously had no interest in doing so. I figure if I have headphones on and seem thoroughly engaged you might leave me alone. It does nothing for my nostrils but I am looking for small victories at this point. I quickly realize though that even this is not a deterrent for you. You tap me to ask me the name of the film. don’t know. You continuously look over at me every time there is a part in the movie that you find comical and laugh as if we are sharing an inside joke. we aren’t. I finally figure my best bet to escape you is to just sleep. You aren’t noticing my body language as I have scooted as far away from you as possible and angled my body towards the window. You are not respecting my reading or watching a movie. It’s all utterly pointless.

So I doze off. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to stay asleep too long and guess what awaits me when I open my eyes. Your feet. Your nasty, repulsive, offensive, revolting, disgusting, bare feet that are perched in front of us. I swear your toenails were straight out of a Freddy Kruger movie. How in the world do you think that’s okay? As I go back to reading my book you ask if you can ask me a question. Well you just did but continue since it makes no difference obviously if I say yes or no. I guess since I’m a runner and I, ummmm, use my feet, you think that maybe I have a problem with dry, cracked feet. I don’t. But I guess you assume if you bring YOUR feet up so that I can get a closer look as to what you are referring to, I just might recall having had that same problem and be able to recommend a fantastic foot cream that will solve all your problems. OH, DEAR JESUS.

I must thank you for taking the last twenty minutes of the flight to finally fall asleep and put me out of my misery. You were also very kind to give me your chocolate as you saw how fast I devoured mine and knew that I was hoping for another. But beyond that kind sir, you were without a doubt my worst experience ever.

It pays to be a Supermodel

(at least more than a track athlete!)

I will be spending the next couple of days in the Big Apple courtesy of Anheuser-Busch and Sports Illustrated. I did a modeling job over the summer that I will be sharing more about when it debuts in the next week or so, and because of that, I get to pretend I am the next Giselle for the next 72 hours. I get to fly first class, stay in an ultra swanky New York hotel, limo service…the whole nine. All this just to attend a launch party for the magazine. The crazy thing is, I am a teeny-weeny goldfish in this proverbial pond and I still get the red-carpet treatment. It makes me question why I give all my blood, sweat, and tears to a profession that forces me to take the cheapest flights I can find with 9 hour layovers in Uzbekistan, arrive at the airport only to find out nobody has remembered to pick me up, and share a room with Olga, the non-speaking Russian. In fact, I am leaving New York on Wednesday to head across the pond-- in coach of course-- to run a race on Saturday in Birmingham, England. My life on the catwalk will be short-lived. I plan on enjoying my life as a wannabe supermodel but given the fact that I’m not having any more growth spurts and my only curves come from the weight-room, I doubt I’ll be changing professions any time soon. It’s ok though…I’m quite content with where I deposit my blood, sweat, and tears.

Yoga for Dummies

I am an athletic person. Any sport-- any athletic activity for that matter-- is something I expect to excel at. So the first time I went to a Yoga class a few years back, I expected to awe everybody with how quickly I caught on and my incredible strength to do all the poses and contortions. I quickly realized that I grossly underestimated the difficulty of this form of exercise and how it does not cater to my strengths whatsoever. So, after a few visits I dropped that hobby like a hot potato. Until yesterday…

My friend asked me to go to yoga and my mind went directly to my experience the last time around and the idea of being the worst at something once again. This is not in my nature you know. I don’t ever suck at something. Except pictionary. I am horrible at Pictionary. But she assured me that it was the beginners class and just to be sure I checked the website and saw that indeed there were three levels of classes and the one we would attend was named “Basic”.

So there I was, in beginner Yoga class, situated at the front of the room because I arrived late, and positioned right next to Grams, a sweet 65-year-old lady to my right. Well guess what? I still suck. First of all, I take issue with the fact that I was forced to look around every time we were supposed to go into a new pose, as I was the only lost soul that could not figure out from the instructions of the teacher what was expected of me. Why are we using yoganese in the beginner’s class? All I know is downward dog…, which, by the way, kills my hands. Supposedly this is because I am supposed to be putting force through my knuckles and was using my palms. I dunno. What I do know is that when the simplest pose in all of yoga is giving me pause, I have a problem. But what really got me—what irked me beyond belief—is when we were in this side plank balance pose and I fell out of it early while Grams stayed in place with perfect technique. Have you seen my core? This was like someone showing Muhammad Ali how to throw a jab.

And is it polite to ask just what in the world are all the chants and sayings about? It seemed everybody else picked up the cliff notes and I did not. What are you saying? Why are you saying it? Honestly, I really don’t even feel comfortable trying to copy it because am I unknowingly praying to the Yoga God or something? And that ommmmm-ing is not something I have mastered. Where exactly are you bringing that sound from? My diaphragm seems to be broken because mine sounds like humming and that’s it. Besides that, it makes me laugh. I don’t know why, it just does. As does all the heavy intense breathing that is taking place around me. I know that is part of the point, at least I think it is, but I can’t listen to my breathing and focus on my breath when I am busy looking around trying to figure out my foot placement and what my hands are supposed to be doing. So I go through the whole class never really finding my calm center but I am hoping I got a good stretch out of it.

I have come to terms with the fact that I am no good at Yoga. Perhaps I will get better with time and practice. I do know that because my back and hamstrings are 5000% tighter than most people’s, there will be things I will always be behind at. When we are stretching and you are able to wrap your entire hands around your foot while mine stop mid calf, I call that an unfair advantage. I am wound differently. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t improve. Maybe one day I’ll be in the vicinity of my foot. So perhaps I need to focus on my individual performance and not compare myself to the Grams of the world. I will never graduate to Intermediate class, of that I’m sure, but maybe I can improve enough to not be the worst of the beginner class.

Picture of the Week

This picture is already on my Myspace so I apologize in advance if you are already a B*Fab follower. I've been slacking on the Picture of the Week posts--namely the "week" part of it, so I figured I was due. This is a picture of Snoop Dogg and I. Of course, Snoop didn't know he was taking a picture with me but that's quite alright. He was busy...I didn't want to interrupt. I'm going to be all original here and take it back to the Mastercard commercials from a few years back...

Cost to attend the party that Snoop was performing at: $1300

Amount of money Bri and friends paid to attend said party: $0

The look on partygoers (the ones who actually paid) faces when Snoop asked them if they liked to partake in his favorite relaxing activity: PRICELESS.

Lets just say that when parties cost that much to attend, they attract a different kind of crowd. Sure, there were your celebrities and lucky folks like us who found a way to get in, and then of course there was Snoop's huge entourage, but the rest of the folks were probably not Snoop's hardcore fans. They are sticking to their claim that it's only used for medicinal purposes...glaucoma and such.

History

History is being made today. I wasn't absolutely convinced at the beginning of this whole process that we really and truly would have a woman or a black man as our democratic candidate but it happened and it's huge. HUGE. I'm not telling anyone who to vote for...if you know me, you know my choice, but everybody is entitled to their own and all I hope is that you make one. (and if you MUST vote republican, at least vote McCain...lol).

My SUPER experience

I was in Phoenix for the majority of the past four days, with a quick trip back to Tucson to take care of an extremely hard practice I had no business trying to complete on my own. Obviously all the hoopla was surrounding the Super Bowl but for me, that was a little ways down on my list of priorities. I planned on visiting with friends, attending some good parties, seeing some amazing live performances, and watching the game from the comfort of my friends couch with lots of good food and company. That was the plan and the whole trip had not disappointed me thus far. Then I got a phone call that woke me entirely too early out of my slumber on Sunday morning. Bri, I have two tickets to the game today if you want them. Of course I’m still half asleep but I do have the wherewithal to mutter a coherent “sure” and agree to be at the hotel before 11 to pick them up.

I tell Nicole the good news but admit to her that I feel a bit conflicted. I had mentioned on more then one occasion that if I had tickets to the Super Bowl I would sell them in a heartbeat. I have been to the Super Bowl once before and it was cool and all…but I’d much rather enjoy a nice shopping spree on someone else’s expense. Give me the money and I will gladly watch the game on T.V. Besides…in all honesty I am not a huge Giants or Patriots fan. I had only committed to cheering for the Giants once they made it to the Super Bowl because I like the underdog. It wasn’t as if I was a die-hard, I was a self-admitted bandwagon fan. But I had tickets and they were free so I felt it would be extremely rude and ungrateful of me to turn around and sell them—especially since it would be known that I wasn’t in attendance. I truly felt conflicted though.

Since it was me + 1 I needed to figure out who would go with me. My first choice was my coach because of all he does for me but he was unable to make it. Nicole couldn’t go with me for her own reasons that most people would probably not agree with but that’s ok. I started thinking to myself… I could open up the invitation to anybody I know who is in the Phoenix area or I could sell one ticket and just go myself. The more I thought about it, the more I felt this was the best plan. I know plenty of people I would have loved to take and would have gladly sacrificed some extra skrillah in my pocket for them to be there with me, but it was last minute. This compromise was the best option. So I went to the Super Bowl by myself. I know…total loner. My friend came and sat with me though for about half of it so I was not completely by myself.

I must say that I truly enjoyed the experience much more than I thought I would. By the end of the game I felt like a tried and true New Yorker who cheered my heart out for my beloved G-men. I screamed, I jumped, I shouted, I hi-fived the entire crowd of Giants fans around me…it was an amazing experience. My shopping spree will not be as extravagant but I had the opportunity to see one of the best Super Bowls in person and be part of the electrifying atmosphere that was totally overwhelming.


i took this picture from the club level at half-time where you could see the whole stadium and it was so cool...except for the fact that it was Tom Petty...ummm, why???!!

Party like a ROCKSTAR!

On Thursday I drove up to Phoenix because it feels like forever and a day since I have been social and went out and had a really good time. So since the superbowl festivities were just up the road and my favorite road dawg of all time was going to be in town, I decided to make the most of it. We stepped out in style and got to borrow the SL blah blah blah. I am horrible with car names, but it was a Mercedes and it was definitely a lot flyer than my Civic, I know that much! We were almost tempted to let the top down just to take full advantage of the experience, except that it was freezing and we would have immediately been spotted as imposters for doing something so uncalled for at that temperature.

We got to our first party of the night and felt like VIP’s. That’s really because we were accompanied by a real VIP but we played it up anyway and took our turn posing for photos on the red carpet and being treated to complimentary cocktails. Normally, I have all the confidence in the world when it comes to negotiating with the big, bad clipboard holders but for these parties I thought it would be better to make sure we were with the big guns. I was not certain my batting eyelashes would get the job done!

I must pause for a second to comment on a phenomenon I was able to witness firsthand…the craziness of male groupies towards another male. Honestly, I thought this only occurred at Hannah Montana concerts but rest assured these men gave 8-year-old girls a run for their money.

After we spent a bit of time there we headed over to Diddy’s party because I’ve always heard that Diddy knows how to throw a party like no other. I told Jerry to go ahead and let the bouncers at the door know that Brianna Glenn had arrived and was ready to party and so we were escorted right in and taken behind the velvet ropes. I guess we missed his performance onstage and all that good stuff because it was taking place outside and I was not dressed for outside activities whatsoever. The night was definitely a success. We ended up running into our old friends from college and decided the night would be that much more enjoyable hanging out and reminiscing with people we know and like!


The next morning I woke up and headed straight to the track to run 5 300’s. Of course it was the last thing I felt like doing but that is never an acceptable excuse!