The benefits of having FABULOUS friends

In any relationship there will be certain instances in which one person benefits more than the other.

I take pictures from time to time, and sometimes they are even professional, published ones. Unless you have been living under a rock I’m sure you are aware of that fact. This past weekend I posed in front of the camera and the person on the other side of the lens was none other than my best friend. She is a professional wedding photographer but from time to time she takes a break from capturing people’s undying love for each other and snaps away out of the goodness of her heart. Actually, the goodness of her heart is only available if you are lucky to be one of the most important people in her life for the past 14 years, otherwise it will probably cost you a pretty penny. :) That’s why I am most definitely the beneficiary this time around. I pose for pictures. She takes them. But I’m sure it’s obvious to everyone who holds the upper hand here. What she does with a camera is nothing short of amazing and I don’t say this simply because I love her more than Godiva’s chocolate covered strawberries. One look at her work will show you that my opinion is not biased but the God’s honest truth. If I didn’t need her standing next to me, I wouldn't want anybody else to shoot my own wedding. Yeah, I know. Worry about finding a husband first. Those pesky little details always get in the way of important matters.



**There are a few more on her blog posting and I will be adding my favorites ones from the shoot to my website shortly.

Working hard

This morning I started off my day in the weight room for an hour and a half. This afternoon I went to the track at 1:30 and I left at 5:30. I’ve been sitting on my couch for most of the evening without any real motivation to move because my body is exhausted. As it should be. At this part of the season it’s time to go back to the base stuff a bit and wear your body down. Today consisted of long jump drills…approaches…jumps off a box…sled pulls…stair hops …more plyos…even more plyos!...and core work. Then I did my cool down. A mile run that probably took me a good 15 minutes to complete. It was one of those days that makes your legs shake long after you’ve stopped working out.

As I was sitting here completely fatigued I remembered a comment I overheard at the track a few weeks back. It was a Saturday and the track was particularly busy. All the sprinters were doing their respective workouts and the distance group was also out there doing a track workout. Saturdays are usually are longer sprint days and on this day the long sprinters were running 450’s and the short sprinters were doing 250’s. I had 300’s. Really fast. Full recovery. As the college sprinters were starting their runs I overheard one of the distance runners say…

Wow, the sprinters are actually working hard today.

Excuse me? I looked at him and hoped like mad that he would see me staring and realize that I had heard him just so I could hear how he’d try to explain that one…to my face. I think it’s pretty common knowledge that distance runners secretly think that they train harder than sprinters. Perhaps they won’t say it to our face but when they go on their little 45 min warm-up runs, they gossip about it like no other. Obviously if you run MORE that equates to HARDER. Well, I don’t necessarily agree.

Here’s the thing. I will never be a distance runner. No thank you. Even if I were gifted at it I’d still decline. I respect what they do and I will be the first to admit that it is challenging and extremely difficult when you are training to be really good at it. But I believe that they train hard differently, not exclusively. If their speed day calls for 300’s and they run 16 of them and jog for 100 meters as their rest period (which, by the way, I simply will never be able to wrap my head around jogging as a form of rest), while my workout is 4 of them with 10 minutes rest at which point I sit on the ground and rest, that does not mean you’ve worked out 4 times as hard as me. The math is not that simple.

I think booty lock is exclusive to sprinters and it doesn’t occur simply because we are not in as good of shape as those who run for longer distances, but because we are pushing our bodies to a certain intensity that isn’t called for when your event calls for you to go more than one time around the track. Almost anybody can run for 100 meters but very few can compete at that distance. Just like the tons of people who run marathons. You can’t compare that to actual marathoners.

So, if you’re a distance runner and you think that you are in a position to claim superiority when it comes to hard workouts, think again. I wouldn’t want to hang with you as you go round and round and you probably wouldn’t want to be out at the track with me today for 4 hours. Your skinny little legs would turn to jello. :) And let’s not even talk about the weight room.

The time I wish I had roommates

Last evening I arrived back in Tucson after 10 fantastic days in California. I happened to leave one thing behind though. My keys. I didn’t realize it until I had the shuttle drop me off in front of my car and I spent a few minutes digging around without finding gold. This was a huge problem for a myriad of reasons. I did have a spare key to my car but it of course was inside the apartment…the apartment that is part of a complex that for some ridiculous reason has this insane policy of not being able to assist you with lockouts after hours. So I had to call a locksmith. And then I had to catch a taxi. A very expensive taxi mind you and all the while I’m thinking that I will also need to take a very expensive taxi back to the airport as well. Boo to not living somewhere where you have tons of friends you can call at a moments notice to help you out in a bind. So…I arrive at my apartment expecting the locksmith to arrive any minute because that’s what the dude told me. But 40 minutes later, after sitting on the ground and freezing my butt off, I get a call saying that he had done another job first and was now on his way. If I cussed, this is where I would insert those expletives. So after an hour the guy finally arrives and he’s a little creepy and not very trustworthy looking…I mean I would have felt a little better if he at least had a nametag or something. So I’m not too hyped about the fact that he is breaking into my apartment and aware of the fact that I live alone and don’t have keys to my place but what’s a girl to do? Of course he overcharges me. Of course. I’m sure he made up the amount on the spot and me being too tired and irritated to even argue at this point, I pay it—with a scowl on my face. At least I’m inside my apartment. Although then I realize that this apartment is totally void of all edible food so the hunger pains I’m feeling have to be subsided with a boiled egg. Yup. That was my dinner.

Anyway, now that I’ve vented I feel a whole lot better. I will try to post something a tad more uplifting and positive a little later. :)

Happy Birthday Tristin

(Just pretend I wrote this yesterday)

I used to think I wasn’t a baby person. I don’t ooh and ahhh when I see one nor do I long to be around them for any extended amount of time. But once my sister popped her first one out, I began to think they weren’t so bad. I found myself connected in a way that I didn’t really think was possible. Sure, I hoped it was possible because I do plan on having one or two of my own one day, but I wasn’t so sure I could ever be converted. Granted, I still have a long way to go. I still am not that keen on other kids (except my friend Nikkie’s because they are adorable mixed kids and they remind me of little Brianna’s) but as far as my nephew and new niece go, I’m a sucker. Please shoot me if I start sending out mass emails with all of her pictures.

I am so incredibly excited that I now have a niece. Don’t get me wrong…Ty is the MAN and I absolutely love him to pieces. But a little girl makes me excited to buy her all the pink things I can get my hands on. She’s going to grow up being a girly girl that still knows how to beat all the boys in a race, just like her Aunt. So, Happy Birthday Tristen. I love you and I plan on spoiling you rotten.

Odd Jobs

Earlier this week I shot a Nike print ad up in Los Angeles. They needed a few sprinters and I could always use some extra cash. But before I said yes, I almost said no. For starters, it’s Nike. I’m not a huge fan of Nike because they aren’t a huge fan of mine. And while I suppose it’s not entirely personal because Nike is this huge global company that sponsors some of the biggest athletes in the entire universe and does not need to bat a stray eyelash over little ol’ me, I still am slightly bitter that the biggest sponsor of Track and Field athletes has decided on more than one occasion that I’m not worthy of the swoosh. And that’s fine and all if I sucked more than any of the other athletes that they currently have—but I don’t. So yea, if you could all personally write letters to the Nike people telling them what a great addition I would be to their brand, I would totally appreciate it.

My other hang-up occurred when I found out that the series of ads they were doing were for certain featured athletes that they are currently sponsoring. I had known they were just looking for some sprinters in the background but I didn’t realize that there would be A certain sprinter in the foreground. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I just wasn’t keen on the idea of being a lane-filler for a competitor of mine. What does that look like if I’m an extra for someone in their own ad that I’m trying to beat when it’s time for the Trials?! I likened it to being the batboy for the team that just released you. Or not making the band but being asked if you’d like to be a backup singer. Something like that.

So I called the casting director and told her I needed to know who the featured athlete was in the print ad because it could be a conflict of interest. I don’t believe she really understood where I was coming from but it turned out the particular athlete specializes in a slightly longer sprint than what my specialty is. So…no harm, no foul. Besides, this particular ad is only being shown in Asia, so aside from the fact that I just told all of you, nobody will even know about it. At the end of the day it’s money in my pocket and the most amazing homemade carrot cake I’ve ever tasted. I don’t know why it’s so easy for me to always revert back to something food related, but I’m telling you this cake was that good. And guess what? In some unconnected, irrelevant way, Nike is still paying me whether they want to or not. Ha!

Countdown.

157 days. 13 hours. 27 minutes. 44 seconds…43…42…41.

When you check in it’s blinking back at you from behind the reception desk.

It’s flashing back at you on every screen saver.

In case you didn't know how long it was until the beginning of the Olympic Games, you do now. You cannot be at the Olympic Training Center and overlook the importance of this countdown. People here are on a mission. Each and every person shares the same focus and is working day in and day out to make the dream a reality and they realize that every day counts. The countdown is everywhere, but it’s merely a reflection of what’s imprinted on everyone’s brain.

I stayed onsite at the Olympic Training Center in 2006 for a little over three months and then spent the remainder of the year training here but living offsite about 5 minutes away. For a sport that seems about as amateur as a professional sport can be, the center does a fantastic job of providing an environment that truly fosters the development of elite athletes. As a “professional” in this sport, many of us find our own coaches, look to secure places that we can train and lift on a consistent basis, locate our own chiropractor and massage person, and hopefully we are lucky enough to earn income from participating in this sport, because we pay for it all out of our own pocket. That’s why a place like this is so amazing, because your focus is able to be on becoming the best athlete you can be and all the other stuff is taken care of.

Not only that, but the energy here is so much different than anywhere else. As soon as I arrived, my own internal countdown became that much more noticeable. Everywhere you look there is a call to greatness and people who are answering the same call surround you. You aren’t sharing the track with the soccer mom who’s trying to lose an extra five pounds, or lifting on a platform next to the freshman who doesn’t know how to do a power clean properly, or waiting to get adjusted after Grams is through. I love being here because everywhere I turn is someone just like me and it is inspiring.

I’m only here for the week but I think it’s going to be a great rejuvenator for me. Usually when you are away from your normal training environment you do your best to fit your workouts in, but when you come here everything revolves around your training and you still get the camaraderie of your friends…not to mention all the free food you can eat! It’s a win-win situation. If Rosa makes her famous tortilla soup while I’m here, my trip will be absolute perfection!

Picture of the Week

You might be wondering why I chose to post such an interesting picture of my friends and I. Well the answer is quite simple. Nobody trusts me to pick the pictures in which they look decent. Supposedly, I am only concerned with my own appearance and will throw everyone else under the bus if I happen to look good. (Obviously, this is untrue as one look at this will confirm.) After multiple attempts at trying to take a picture in which four very opinionated, picky women were satisfied with how they turned out, we gave up. It was much easier to look ridiculous…we nailed this one on the first attempt.

To date, I probably have about 348,937,298,000 pictures of the four of us. But there will always be room for more. More special occasions, more important memories, more just because we are hanging out together and I love you more than a fat kid loves cake…more, more, more. There is always a reason to smile for the camera as far as I’m concerned because I love being able to look at a photograph and instantly be reminded of all the great times we share together. My photograph from today will remind me of my fantastic afternoon spent laughing and eating, (my two favorite hobbies), and how my best friend searched to find me a fabulous new brunch spot in L.A. because she knows how much I adore brunch. Because of her I was able to try the Friggin’ Amazin’ French Toast. from Grub. That was the name straight off the menu and I will tell you that it lived up to it’s reputation. Just ask Jasmine…she was kind enough to steal my last bite.

And just in case you are really worried that my friends and I escaped from the looney bin...here's the normal version.