tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24098942323519847572024-02-02T11:56:18.168-05:00Escapades of a Marathon DaterA 30ish amateur runner chronicles her quest for a PR and BF.
Exhaustion, Chafing and other Similarities!CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.comBlogger294125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-86815093926861049792017-02-11T13:49:00.000-05:002017-02-11T13:49:00.384-05:00My Body is Sabotaging My Love Life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGz0gOn1bWY8bF7k5Tt1_NQ3eGBEDxCYIS979esD-_0TWObJVIZt5FTSfLkbTxuKXWl3UWWdHbbzAclfK3otd7jX2IbB54tkK0I4Wb6V_OaOTLc2-jQDVnPVXSgKiAKdHZ_MDUKwkbNxd/s640/blogger-image--1571582669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBGz0gOn1bWY8bF7k5Tt1_NQ3eGBEDxCYIS979esD-_0TWObJVIZt5FTSfLkbTxuKXWl3UWWdHbbzAclfK3otd7jX2IbB54tkK0I4Wb6V_OaOTLc2-jQDVnPVXSgKiAKdHZ_MDUKwkbNxd/s320/blogger-image--1571582669.jpg" width="262" /></a>FYI: This post will get VERY personal VERY fast.<br />
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This past Monday I went on a date with a dude I've been talking to for about a month and whom I've been out with once before. We met for dinner Monday night and he invited me to his place for drinks. I knew "drinks" did not mean drinks. He knew "drinks" did not mean drinks. I don't need to go into details, you know where that went. I embraced my <a href="http://www.stuffmomnevertoldyou.com/podcasts/libido-liberation.htm" target="_blank">LIBIDO</a> (great podcast btw)!<br />
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Everything was going great until he noticed a reddish spot on his white sheets. I now had the plague. Let me tell you, nothing ruins the mood than a 41yo man who can not get past this. Dude! You've been married! You should be comfortable with a woman's bodily functions. There really was no coming back after that.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkvyCgQ1m5wX-aN7_U9NQUOD5ad-U0uvqI-nRcF87nxMxTERTSnvhSitv3yT19gbx61MOly-ukzBHpXS7AGfzFAxoxfM4E_YSkoLzX3gBKv89Y_vo1tJ-0ZWTVeN9urHN8QMc818uZT_-/s640/blogger-image-1517325078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipkvyCgQ1m5wX-aN7_U9NQUOD5ad-U0uvqI-nRcF87nxMxTERTSnvhSitv3yT19gbx61MOly-ukzBHpXS7AGfzFAxoxfM4E_YSkoLzX3gBKv89Y_vo1tJ-0ZWTVeN9urHN8QMc818uZT_-/s320/blogger-image-1517325078.jpg" width="278" /></a>To be clear this was not blood. This was a red/brown discharge which happens during ovulation and orgasm for me. I've been experiencing it for about the last year and only for the first week after my period. It is not the first time that I've experienced it with a dude but the first time I've dealt with that reaction.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJ3vy3kK8tWQFnzwsLA5J6qHJ8hgkJTUZ_2em0_A6793cFvZouLvv35K3K0GrCV-n2jn2YUjtgZn2VRQN1c_HSVuXK93bKslX0e0m8yHQbjMcjQy1Fa3hr0CE2OglgccHAVIDEvYAJ124/s640/blogger-image-1810442626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIJ3vy3kK8tWQFnzwsLA5J6qHJ8hgkJTUZ_2em0_A6793cFvZouLvv35K3K0GrCV-n2jn2YUjtgZn2VRQN1c_HSVuXK93bKslX0e0m8yHQbjMcjQy1Fa3hr0CE2OglgccHAVIDEvYAJ124/s320/blogger-image-1810442626.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It's more an annoyance than bothersome and I have spoken with my doctor about it. She feels it's just me getting older but offered to run some tests to make sure it was not anything else, i.e. STIs and cervical cancer. All tests came back negative and I am left with the assumption that I am experiencing perimenopause. Yes, I am a bit young to be going through it but it kind of fits with other things I've been dealing with. I've been crazy emotional over the past 1.5years. Like, CRAZY emotional. I cried at a Hilliary campaign video. I cried watching the King and I. I cried at a Secret commercial! I've also been experiencing migraines and a foggy brain. I've decided to try low dose birth control to help deal with this. I haven't been on it since 2008. It may not help but I want to see.<br />
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I haven't decided how I feel about this stage of my life. I continue to view myself as a 28 year old sexy girl. And I can still be a sexy 38 year old.....lady.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHIttt4I7gLzIU12QxBG5dLLyexPING0Lu3h1OQ4FxPZoJVzJmbXS_OyY03FBEev09tmUXK7wGFJ7W0tebXH521ajwusiTh1qi4ZM03CTQX8U0zWo7Y1f4GORiuBqPWLJ4kQHNoeFGGvZ/s640/blogger-image--1486000500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHIttt4I7gLzIU12QxBG5dLLyexPING0Lu3h1OQ4FxPZoJVzJmbXS_OyY03FBEev09tmUXK7wGFJ7W0tebXH521ajwusiTh1qi4ZM03CTQX8U0zWo7Y1f4GORiuBqPWLJ4kQHNoeFGGvZ/s320/blogger-image--1486000500.jpg" width="320" /></a>On a side note this led to a text thread between my mother, sister and I that I found hilarious. My mother did not. I informed them of my self-diagnosis. We're not quite sure what she did not find amusing. My offer or the fact that I'm perimenopausal.<br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-23003793071950100052016-12-04T21:41:00.003-05:002016-12-04T21:41:44.964-05:00Where Have I Been<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF89n1pafn0qkndtUcJw8PMPFD0nDz0d9oMP3H2MMd_0FEpR66UWOpzy6H-21WieRIJcaQrJWFUulLX2at-62-2jKsm1NqtV9oIrVjV-AZhJHdFU3B350fHyCZC7nXKgmGeEotfK9BSwiC/s640/blogger-image--434199376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF89n1pafn0qkndtUcJw8PMPFD0nDz0d9oMP3H2MMd_0FEpR66UWOpzy6H-21WieRIJcaQrJWFUulLX2at-62-2jKsm1NqtV9oIrVjV-AZhJHdFU3B350fHyCZC7nXKgmGeEotfK9BSwiC/s200/blogger-image--434199376.jpg" width="200" /></a>Mostly hiding under my covers. It's been a dark couple of weeks.<br />
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Since about the beginning of August I've been working for the Clinton campaign in my city. Knocking doors, making phone calls, and registering voters. During Get Out The Vote I trained canvassers and ended up knocking 200 doors on November 8.<br />
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I had such high hopes for that day. I even had my Facebook Status ready! "Get your umbrellas out ladies! It's raining glass!" As you all know, I did not get to use that status. I will however, save it for the next run at the White House.<br />
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I woke up at 3am on November 9th and cried. I cried all day. I cried all week. I'll be honest, I still cry a little. But now anger and determination has taken over. I will take a more active roll in politics, in activism, in my community. "If you thought I was a liberal bitch before, you haven't seen anything yet!"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKDI5DLb2pUyJvAU1-j22nDsBDv4C1Pl0g6bLrAArCEobjn_UCwjjbZgCuGHjF4cKwXXm9EaHGAw6onP9v0wjIdyuvV3o2mYmvbUy6IpbuPzvvo1IKtYeWdAuyERJUGOuaLXxpZ8002HX/s640/blogger-image-439192414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnKDI5DLb2pUyJvAU1-j22nDsBDv4C1Pl0g6bLrAArCEobjn_UCwjjbZgCuGHjF4cKwXXm9EaHGAw6onP9v0wjIdyuvV3o2mYmvbUy6IpbuPzvvo1IKtYeWdAuyERJUGOuaLXxpZ8002HX/s320/blogger-image-439192414.jpg" width="320" /></a>As of right now my life hasn't been impacted. But, I know life has changed and will continue to change for a lot of people out there. I want to be there for them and advocate for their needs.<br />
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NOW! I have wallowed in sadness long enough. And the kitchen (blog post in a few weeks) is almost done. It is time to get back to the gym. To hit the sidewalks/treadmill. I know working out will help me get through the next four years.<br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-12076059359835887522016-10-16T19:23:00.000-04:002016-10-16T19:27:20.561-04:00That Time I was an Unknowing LesbianThis post almost seems non important or relevant now but it makes me laugh every time I think about it. The subject took place around Easter and I found out about it a couple weeks later. I've been meaning to write it up ever since but one thing after another kept making me postpone it. And now I'm mid kitchen tear out, but I'm waiting on some material.<br />
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It started with a text from my cousin on my mom's side to my sister informing her that during a convo between my cousin and her parents about my sister's wedding, my uncle said, "Yeah, good for Laura. She'll be so much happier now that she's come out." My cousin was a little taken aback but asked her parents for more info to which they said that my mother showed them a picture of me and "my partner." My open minded and all inclusive cousin wanted to be supportive but wanted to make sure she had the situation correct before texting me to congratulate me on coming out and was therefore checking with my sister. This completely confused my sister and caused her to call my mom.<br />
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It's at this point that even more misunderstanding comes in. When my sister reaches my mother she's at dinner with her friend Louis but Sophie hears "I'm at Lowes, I'll call you when I get home." Sophie thinks, "ok, she'll call in about 30 min." Sophie then starts to analyze the short convo. My mother told her the story wasn't true but my mom quickly ended the phone call. To which Sophie reads as, "she doesn't want to talk about this." My mom came to Cleveland the week before, Laura must have come out then. And now she's coming home to tell me. Hours go by and my sister is stuck in her head thinking the craziest thoughts. "I know Laura's not gay but mom was quick to end the call. She's coming home this weekend, is she going to come out to me? WHY AM I THE LAST ONE THAT KNOWS THIS!!" Meanwhile, her husband is in the background telling her the rumor isn't true, that I like guys, and she's being crazy. So after a couple of hours my sister calls my parents house but reaches my dad, who informs her that my mother is still not home. Sophie is flabbergasted that mom is still at Lowes and my dad informs her that she's not at Lowes but at dinner with Louis. Sophie then tells my dad that she needs to talk to my mom and that she is to call her when she gets home, NO MATTER WHAT TIME. SHE NEEDS TO TALK TO HER. (Later, when my dad found out about why my sister was calling he gave her mad props for not outing me to him.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmBt4zks1fxbciXIfMJx-nxbxvYnAL5qsWh54qQEqwQBJ38D6ccx4_kCS4fqDW_RVDhjUGNO-Hl1tjOd_EazCqr6BfBGFGw1Jijqmw_K9LcaJrvkhbwyydEs10WUbaVlwJDD_BlMA1HfV/s640/blogger-image--994765770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlmBt4zks1fxbciXIfMJx-nxbxvYnAL5qsWh54qQEqwQBJ38D6ccx4_kCS4fqDW_RVDhjUGNO-Hl1tjOd_EazCqr6BfBGFGw1Jijqmw_K9LcaJrvkhbwyydEs10WUbaVlwJDD_BlMA1HfV/s640/blogger-image--994765770.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My "partner" and I</td></tr>
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About an hour later my mom finally calls her and between the two of them they realize that while my parents were at my aunt and uncles for Easter my mom showed pictures of my sisters wedding. One of the pictures (I can see it clearly in my head) is just me and my sister's business partner but my mom said "and this is her partner" meaning Sophie's business partner not Laura's lesbian life partner.<br />
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To clear up the rumor my mother contacts my uncle and asks to have lunch with him, which throws him for loop cause she never asks to have lunch. At lunch my mother informs him of the miscommunication, to which he got defensive and blamed her. Bless my mom, she remained calm and explained the picture was me with my sister's business partner. My uncle got so worked up he put his hands to his head, walked into the kitchen of the restaurant and poured himself a cup of coffee, exclaiming "Oh! Oh! It makes so much more sense now." My aunt and uncle went with the lesbian thing due to the ""partner" picture, my haircut, and my masculine presence."<br />
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Now! Mind you this is all happening without my knowledge. When I finally get home my parents ask me to sit down, they need to talk to me. This immediately puts me on edge. They then tell me that my aunt and uncle have believed me to be gay for the past month but not to worry they have corrected the misunderstanding and proceed to tell me the story. I have never laughed so hard. I can see each misunderstanding. Each miscommunication. Each assumption. The exact picture. I think my parents thought I would be mad, my uncle and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things. But I see nothing wrong with being gay, nor anything bad about being thought to be gay. Also, it's nice to know that my extended family would be excepting.<br />
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So that's the time I was a lesbian for a month.CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-44941913749294340402016-07-17T22:27:00.001-04:002016-07-17T22:27:30.913-04:00Body Love<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2UPH8Ox3PJp1IkekeeTJxztqbOOQkwhj8BrMmTrpEEh7h2isoYKUBSe7erJa9b7pmIIHWTuAicGfkf9f30XGj2YkXpHBOfV_l6FRmo9pvhDXDCeMZlXKFAwGMFIIAf7UvcIuA7zLT7RKN/s640/blogger-image--1433497714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2UPH8Ox3PJp1IkekeeTJxztqbOOQkwhj8BrMmTrpEEh7h2isoYKUBSe7erJa9b7pmIIHWTuAicGfkf9f30XGj2YkXpHBOfV_l6FRmo9pvhDXDCeMZlXKFAwGMFIIAf7UvcIuA7zLT7RKN/s320/blogger-image--1433497714.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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I have almost always been ok with my body. Yes, there were times where I wanted to lose weight to have a better body, look better in clothes. There was a time that I tried bulimia. But now I want to lose weight, tighten muscles, to run longer, faster. Swim smoother. Live longer. I've gotten comfortable in body and have grown to love it. At 37 i'm comfortable enough to wear a bathing suit with exposed stomach. That backless shirt with a crazy awesome bra.<br />
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In exploring this new "body love" a unique opportunity popped up. An artist needed <a href="http://www.clevescene.com/cleveland/spotlight-on-women-spotlight-on-the-city/Content?oid=4891004" target="_blank">nude models</a> for a photo shoot in Cleveland. I knew that I had to apply.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">"During the majority of my life I have heard that I need to lose weight. That I was chunky. That I would never get a boyfriend at my weight. Up until about 8 years ago I was self conscious about it. I have now come to accept my body and love it the way it is. I run and do triathlons because they are fun. I do crossfit for the camaraderie. I'd like to use this photo/installation opportunity as a coming out for my body. That I love it the way it is. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">I am also a huge liberal and advocate for equal rights. The fact that this is happening during the RNC may help raise their awareness for equalality for women."</span><br />
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Sadly, he was only taking 100 women when normally he uses all that show up. The acceptance emails went out in early July and unfortunately I was not chosen. But I'm so happy I applied. And, who know's this was his second time here, maybe he'll come back and I can pose then.<br />
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By the way, the <a href="http://spencertunickcleveland.com/" target="_blank">shoot</a> seems to have gone well. You can also read about it in <a href="http://www.esquire.com/news-politics/a46763/republican-national-convention-nude-women/" target="_blank">Esquire</a>.<span id="goog_2087240059"></span><span id="goog_2087240060"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a><br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-27654995332732288992016-05-21T13:40:00.001-04:002016-05-21T13:40:23.854-04:00How Very Double Standard of You**Warning frank sex discussion**<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHaufFw-EtkIgBs2H4R2gUINzzx21Dx0ChPTXz2o-RKB3y5Uq6W4RQif8uWwPPmZLKPDhZDvi2e1gY2sePpGbYqpSnMNKCWDNYzHE6Qx7Uof26GrkqcH8aaR0QYPkpRuQULHB2f9O6BlC/s640/blogger-image--794383163.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiHaufFw-EtkIgBs2H4R2gUINzzx21Dx0ChPTXz2o-RKB3y5Uq6W4RQif8uWwPPmZLKPDhZDvi2e1gY2sePpGbYqpSnMNKCWDNYzHE6Qx7Uof26GrkqcH8aaR0QYPkpRuQULHB2f9O6BlC/s640/blogger-image--794383163.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul Avril lithograph</td></tr>
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I recently went on a date with a guy that I met online, obviously. We had things in common. Mutually found each other attractive. And had pretty great early conversations. I'm not sure how this conversation took a turn but it went very sexual after an hour or two.<br />
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I was raised in a family that was very open about all topics. And as a consequence I'm fairly open with discussing just about everything. So if some one asks me a direct question I'm going to give an honest answer.<br />
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The conversation with the dude consisted of what we like and don't like. What was the worst thing ever said to you during sex? Mine, "lets have a baby." Said to me by the side dish carpenter a month ago. Then the next question to me was "do you enjoy anal or butt play?" FYI, I do not. The guy seemed to want more info or seemed to think that he could convince me that it was for me. That some how it just wasn't done right in the past. So I decided to turn the question around. Did he enjoy it, on himself? He was rather shocked that I would ask this because he's a dude and no penis is going in his ass. But that's not the only thing that can be used. And when I pointed that out he was very adamant that he would not enjoy that and nothing was coming near him.<br />
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I found his reply to be a double standard and called him out on it.<br />
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If it's not ok for you why would you think it would be ok for me? Biologically, I would think it would men would be more inclined to have anal sex because of the prostate gland. I'm not sure what women would get out of anal sex? Some say the Gspot is better stimulated.<br />
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Please understand, I am not judging anyone who partakes in and enjoys anal intercourse. I just know it is not for me. AND, I know that if you want/expect one partner to partake in something the other partner should too.<br />
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<a href="http://www.gq.com/story/6-reasons-every-guy-should-play-with-his-ass" target="_blank">Reasons for straight men</a>CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-19328087526688547012016-03-28T20:33:00.002-04:002016-04-07T16:15:14.498-04:00Ghosting<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGG5Ag9hVyewAnjJiIgl0v-5O4AXnFFbhv4iHrMQbFkYAWb5ff0HOymdr9HWo0kA9i7e5PIZpwWh3gDgLqQ_33hYwiymedzod1Gc0fLiZ8EmqC_8UAOe9qDY-ZKoEddyUvqXvgH5QLHfM4/s1600/ghost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGG5Ag9hVyewAnjJiIgl0v-5O4AXnFFbhv4iHrMQbFkYAWb5ff0HOymdr9HWo0kA9i7e5PIZpwWh3gDgLqQ_33hYwiymedzod1Gc0fLiZ8EmqC_8UAOe9qDY-ZKoEddyUvqXvgH5QLHfM4/s1600/ghost.jpg" /></a>I'm trying to learn the art. I was talking to this guy and we went out a few times, 3 to be exact. I questioned whether to continue after the second date but went on the third to make sure of my decision. Shortly after the third date he left the country for a little over a week. A week after he got back I left the country for a week. I kind of thought in that time apart he would just get distracted and<br />
I wouldn't have to really do anything. I took the route of <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ryley-rubin-pogensky/ghosting-_b_7855646.html" target="_blank">GHOSTING</a>. I never texted him first and took a while in returning his, if I returned them. I'm hoping he finally is getting the hint. I haven't heard from him in bit. <i> </i><br />
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<i>**Update, I wrote this a few days ago and since i haven't heard from the guy in 4 days I'm going with success. </i><br />
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<i>****update#2, I actually wrote this a month ago, and have just received a text asking how my Easter was. It's been a month!</i><br />
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Now the article is defending ghosting in a relationship. I don't know if I would be ok with ghosting after a REAL relationship. I'm ok ghosting if the "relationships" were short or not even real relationships and no sex was involved.CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-50785508938111142632016-03-22T15:26:00.001-04:002016-03-22T15:26:25.640-04:00Lotion. BasketThis is an actual email I got on POF this week. First, who thinks that's a great opening? Second, where am I to go with it?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyk_Pws0N9W7V3VBNxTlB86EyDgsetaK7WaZdrt9KgcJgcgobVHr8_pkjWUpCeQq3d0qnBFjnIwL8uhkjgJHW9kZmH765CJ7YPpBzA-LKhfxsTSV3xunO5d4WTnhta0gJ0NEkYM0p2M9A/s640/blogger-image-1302065656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="82" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFyk_Pws0N9W7V3VBNxTlB86EyDgsetaK7WaZdrt9KgcJgcgobVHr8_pkjWUpCeQq3d0qnBFjnIwL8uhkjgJHW9kZmH765CJ7YPpBzA-LKhfxsTSV3xunO5d4WTnhta0gJ0NEkYM0p2M9A/s320/blogger-image-1302065656.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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As to the last part, I have a setting on my profile that people can't send me emails under a certain length. I thought it would prevent getting, "What up?" But it hasn't really, because now I get, "What up? hjkadkjhdk;oand fhei fkla dkfjioaif "</div>
CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-13496556762304939252016-03-08T15:57:00.001-05:002016-03-08T15:57:42.503-05:00The joys of POF<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHNKMDYUIAXZ4iX5AY7zMjSPe-54jYJNTboI5-TVjdUHRFS-q80n6deCu0mN1PmAvCXZkHHq19062JkhuWKE1SMiV5JOqIIld0W83GHqdmYpaGqsrp5_9CAZjGQ-PZZyK6Bv1i5tq0UgK/s1600/hot+dude.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHNKMDYUIAXZ4iX5AY7zMjSPe-54jYJNTboI5-TVjdUHRFS-q80n6deCu0mN1PmAvCXZkHHq19062JkhuWKE1SMiV5JOqIIld0W83GHqdmYpaGqsrp5_9CAZjGQ-PZZyK6Bv1i5tq0UgK/s400/hot+dude.png" width="400" /></a></div>
I can only assume that this is one of three situations.<br />
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1) He's one of those guys that thinks sending a fishing email will start a conversation between us. </div>
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-His email,</div>
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- I email back with something like, "Oh, that's not me. I think you have the wrong person."</div>
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- To which he responds with, "I'm sorry but hey you're cute. Let's chat."</div>
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*This won't fly with me.</div>
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Or</div>
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2) He guenuinely has the wrong person.</div>
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Or </div>
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3) Some one has hacked my account. </div>
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And trust me, his screen name is a lie! And I can assure you I do not send pictures of my ONE cat to anyone unless asked for them (MOM).<span id="goog_592657043"></span><br />
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CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-65781751885043499522016-03-05T20:46:00.000-05:002016-03-05T20:46:17.022-05:00Wonderful Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfnadgTR0LPv7-ET89-UMuNDPK_TVh1Zbjygp3Faumosp4I84desHTCznz7fI7OTS_lcoANL6yhSuC0IvIxUHrv0uuRfkPsMBKM6T-U4-2gAU4cBakGaPI42ZO0O8ECDXx06Aw0DXAdsG/s640/blogger-image--1750732411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfnadgTR0LPv7-ET89-UMuNDPK_TVh1Zbjygp3Faumosp4I84desHTCznz7fI7OTS_lcoANL6yhSuC0IvIxUHrv0uuRfkPsMBKM6T-U4-2gAU4cBakGaPI42ZO0O8ECDXx06Aw0DXAdsG/s400/blogger-image--1750732411.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIk4g2zF8Eo3HSAL14OyKjvaLK3V7_G3aZLLz0bWytnd9pLddT_WbbnXulmc3fqPhqf5tHmXpRui-gdQ2NVowQcFdFqv_xYg-2rFOYCFtEyBX-gMZdmOE3x-3zkRW2zhp0_2hbh6-1lEZA/s640/blogger-image-1653800311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIk4g2zF8Eo3HSAL14OyKjvaLK3V7_G3aZLLz0bWytnd9pLddT_WbbnXulmc3fqPhqf5tHmXpRui-gdQ2NVowQcFdFqv_xYg-2rFOYCFtEyBX-gMZdmOE3x-3zkRW2zhp0_2hbh6-1lEZA/s320/blogger-image-1653800311.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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I spent all of last week in Jamaica.....and it was AMAZING! I was down there for my sisters wedding which turned out gorgeous. The day was perfect and the setting was crazy awesome. The pictures from people with real cameras (not like my iPhone) look like they are photo shopped. They were not. The ceremony and reception after went wonderfully well. I even stayed up late to party with everyone after hours.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkcCoGQC39Fw0_19y2Nk2PPELTkP6dgmj0KuwTFCQEHoPJrYNj96QMIEdmGJV0_3ILCevw3UpltYx83EvGphmFhNRM2vmebZQcCV1lNmFwgpJOntdOre4ZqNDTEnkARTfdGAouIRzt4f_/s640/blogger-image-765567333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWkcCoGQC39Fw0_19y2Nk2PPELTkP6dgmj0KuwTFCQEHoPJrYNj96QMIEdmGJV0_3ILCevw3UpltYx83EvGphmFhNRM2vmebZQcCV1lNmFwgpJOntdOre4ZqNDTEnkARTfdGAouIRzt4f_/s200/blogger-image-765567333.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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I must have partied hard because when I woke up the next morning I was missing the shellac polish off of ONE toenail. I don't even know how that is possible.<br />
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I didn't realize how tense and emotional I have been this year until the day after the wedding when I got a 90 min deep tissue massage. The masseuse even asked about all the knots in my should blade area. To be fair, I always get knots there, it's not strictly related to the wedding. Being back to my real life now I feel completely relaxed and different than I felt before I left. It may be that I was just in need of a great, wonderful, and happy wedding/vacation. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqStOdLMJrRP88A5Arr3Q53_4Pf6V5d4eFcYzQZSFc2ASf3dvfol1QVuzbgNJNd2_Xth1KLfObdACUSLY9UCUbxPH8PkilEx-mh1PjOoU5Im59ilKFM6kSqkPtpKRwF954zy-F72G9w9Q/s640/blogger-image--332488992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpqStOdLMJrRP88A5Arr3Q53_4Pf6V5d4eFcYzQZSFc2ASf3dvfol1QVuzbgNJNd2_Xth1KLfObdACUSLY9UCUbxPH8PkilEx-mh1PjOoU5Im59ilKFM6kSqkPtpKRwF954zy-F72G9w9Q/s320/blogger-image--332488992.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
I'm so happy for my sister and NOW brother-in-law. They're perfect together and I can't wait to watch them go through life together.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLfwm4GhCy62Plclk7yPwPU9GlSlxTJSpTUdTyO0EEdrcZdNcyzt7Db9YfbYNPoxmvsE85PGcByPhsXCB8qq9lLdTi4p-uyXpE0U75iEdaXRbm8PAooMTDqmGt1Bz4q6EfAdU1fw3r3Ir/s640/blogger-image--1722283626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLfwm4GhCy62Plclk7yPwPU9GlSlxTJSpTUdTyO0EEdrcZdNcyzt7Db9YfbYNPoxmvsE85PGcByPhsXCB8qq9lLdTi4p-uyXpE0U75iEdaXRbm8PAooMTDqmGt1Bz4q6EfAdU1fw3r3Ir/s200/blogger-image--1722283626.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
This last bit is just a <a href="http://nymag.com/thecut/2016/02/political-power-single-women-c-v-r.html#" target="_blank">great article</a> and if you didn't know which way I leaned politically, you do now.<br />
It probably should be separate from this post because it is about the single woman but.....I read the article while in Jamaica. I actually read it while drinking coffee on my balcony one morning.<br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-24121687446598805122016-01-23T10:41:00.002-05:002016-01-23T10:41:35.214-05:00Vaccines and Promiscuity<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPKzIiiKpmCgmuUYT-HpDVtt8ND5_mwGwk1Mk-DmVy-zbfDipyz48UtBjW11oVk5xa4Wut8ZJ-tJ73T8qnjjj-I29lYlYPUmmhttfN8jt8nicTXPITA5D-40SoxCKzci2cOlz2kbtULuC/s640/blogger-image-555276714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNPKzIiiKpmCgmuUYT-HpDVtt8ND5_mwGwk1Mk-DmVy-zbfDipyz48UtBjW11oVk5xa4Wut8ZJ-tJ73T8qnjjj-I29lYlYPUmmhttfN8jt8nicTXPITA5D-40SoxCKzci2cOlz2kbtULuC/s640/blogger-image-555276714.jpg" width="640" /></a>I haven't written much about my sisters upcoming nuptials. It's not my story and it doesn't have anything to do with running or dating. However, I am going to share a little story about something that just happened.<br />
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As you may or may not know the wedding will be taking place in Jamaica (YAY!!) shortly. Last week I called my doctor (after sitting in my 2nd Parasitology class this semester) to ask for a prophylactic anti parasitic drug to take with me. Just in case I ate/drank the wrong thing. When I told the receptionist where I was going and why I was calling she informed me that I needed to get vaccines for the trip. I was in disbelief. It's only Jamaica, not India or Pakistan (not that those are terrible places just a little more war torn/3rd world).<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTiwYIHbxTLpDwHCo_8h957klNDkoUhN-XPpWxBpmC-iM5ORxT-OnBqPDtrcHuJ0fAr8Rl85rAN4L4g9-XL-ypWKLJJigXv8tXviHfJTjvDxLgheZP_diW4x632ZPLaIVuDz2TveGQQDJC/s640/blogger-image--2128729019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTiwYIHbxTLpDwHCo_8h957klNDkoUhN-XPpWxBpmC-iM5ORxT-OnBqPDtrcHuJ0fAr8Rl85rAN4L4g9-XL-ypWKLJJigXv8tXviHfJTjvDxLgheZP_diW4x632ZPLaIVuDz2TveGQQDJC/s320/blogger-image--2128729019.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
While waiting for the receptionist to talk to the doctor I quickly got on the CDC website and found that sure as shit I needed vaccines! Two in fact. Hepatitis A and Typhoid. I made my appointment! Then informed my family, who promptly laughed at me. Well, we'll see who's laughing when they are laid low with typhoid fever! I mean, we are talking about a bacteria, Salmonella typhi, that has played a role in wars! I may be the at the top of the food chain but I know my place with respect to bacteria and parasites.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymujClpbZtfWJCExhtQTtAWv7Tq1y-3QZg7cuvao58ef3T8YDJPgFOXs67nZNpy1wCJeap1kFGdD-OmIHKiMPfflVoWi68jqlCjrS7HoBfxP3mTAnOsbffDVheLahH7A4Imp4yXumWA8t/s640/blogger-image-530301924.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymujClpbZtfWJCExhtQTtAWv7Tq1y-3QZg7cuvao58ef3T8YDJPgFOXs67nZNpy1wCJeap1kFGdD-OmIHKiMPfflVoWi68jqlCjrS7HoBfxP3mTAnOsbffDVheLahH7A4Imp4yXumWA8t/s320/blogger-image-530301924.jpg" width="235" /></a><br />
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My appointment was yesterday and I must say I love my doctor. She did refuse to give me and anti parasitic but sat and talked to me about the up coming trip. We went through the vaccines and what each was for and how long I'd be immune. I do need to get a HepA booster in 6 months if I want immunity for life (I do). In the process of talking she asked if I had any intentions of getting pregnant any time soon....Uh, no. If it had been yes she would have advised me to not go to Jamaica. The Zilka virus in running rampant in the Caribean and not enough is known about it yet. My Doc then kind of smiled at me and gave me a sly look and asked if I was thinking of taking a Jamaican lover while there. My reply was to laugh and say my sister thinks it's an option for me but I'm sure that would require a couple more vaccines! And it would. She just wanted to cover all bases and make me safe.<br />
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I am now GOOD TO GO! Both arms are a bit sore, 0.5ml typhoid vaccine in one and a WHOLE ml HepA vaccine in the other. I was shocked when I saw the HepA and fully expected a bump on my arm.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPqW4ouiKH0ciXSCozi7i08XM04uAcr-4fukSTVqB6afdRr8Nt4zD5P8peEFdxH15K6PdlTu0hgQQX1rWZmMCRuCA9CpiSGdkhNobgTuu9goUXEcgAFbuotN-bFnpPmjLT8Zz0YzsReMq/s640/blogger-image--2104621435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPqW4ouiKH0ciXSCozi7i08XM04uAcr-4fukSTVqB6afdRr8Nt4zD5P8peEFdxH15K6PdlTu0hgQQX1rWZmMCRuCA9CpiSGdkhNobgTuu9goUXEcgAFbuotN-bFnpPmjLT8Zz0YzsReMq/s200/blogger-image--2104621435.jpg" width="200" /></a>On a side note: The healthcare system that my Doc belongs to has started a new service, a healthcare coach. The "coach" came in to talk to me before my Doc and briefly explained who and what she was. She then asked me if I needed any coaching for my healthcare. I don't even know what that would involve! I said no and waited for my Doc. When the doctor came in she asked me about the coach and if I had excepted the coach. I told her I found it ridiculous and ranked it up next to "life coaches." I mean really? You need a coach for life? She laughed and said that was her opinion too but you know...the system wants it.<br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-24804432236818559792015-12-25T22:57:00.000-05:002015-12-25T22:57:15.662-05:00Goodbye 2015<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1Z0MoWTspgoP-Ly3UbrZTkquLopobFGJjAa26pcaf6YFcg2glSx4xbHOsUUAufXDpgbIkvE5rugDvonE6k_7-hf2LDKFsSQJ3Z8WXeH-PeRs1O6QlysGDI-teGV2DkCdCkfYZb-YPrNx/s640/blogger-image-115811580.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_1Z0MoWTspgoP-Ly3UbrZTkquLopobFGJjAa26pcaf6YFcg2glSx4xbHOsUUAufXDpgbIkvE5rugDvonE6k_7-hf2LDKFsSQJ3Z8WXeH-PeRs1O6QlysGDI-teGV2DkCdCkfYZb-YPrNx/s200/blogger-image-115811580.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before</td></tr>
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Or, as I like to refer to it, "The laziest year EVER!!"<br />
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I did nothing last year. I barely ran, did Crossfit, or cross train. I accomplished one house update and one race. It's been a struggle to keep the house clean, to cook, to eat healthy. To basically live my life.<br />
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ENOUGH is ENOUGH!<br />
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It's time to get my life in order. To train like I want. To eat as I should. To race to the best of my abilities.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After</td></tr>
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As I type this I am laying on my couch trying to breath through my nose. I have a terrible head cold but I am using the down time constructively. I have written a training schedule. I have listed a few races I want/will do, including a 1/2 IM. Training begins January 11!<br />
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An odd day to begin, right? Why not January 1st? Because I had some work done. And by work I mean INK. In 1997 at the tender young age of 18 I got my first tattoo. A purple poison dart frog. After 18 years it was in bad shape and I had decided to get it recolored.<br />
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Also, I have always wanted another but I never knew what. Or where. About 3 years ago I knew I wanted one that some how tied me to running. But I didn't want the typical, "26.2" or "1/2IM". Then I saw the molecular structure for met-enkephalon on Pinterest. It spoke to me. It is related to the runners high. It ties my science life to my running life. So I looked into it.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_yIkkYOf7QnUu38j7m8eHSpALIT47nvLEYcX7nsESY03uQApi5MxZJYrv_Djl1Wl5pEJtKZNH8CJLgM2a3YTayvUOy6f-ufemTSQsOQMb7EMi9BmdsT0LKuE-sHcx8QgDYUBqKCMnkrf/s640/blogger-image--1665864687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_yIkkYOf7QnUu38j7m8eHSpALIT47nvLEYcX7nsESY03uQApi5MxZJYrv_Djl1Wl5pEJtKZNH8CJLgM2a3YTayvUOy6f-ufemTSQsOQMb7EMi9BmdsT0LKuE-sHcx8QgDYUBqKCMnkrf/s200/blogger-image--1665864687.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
It wasn't solely responsible for the runners high and I wasn't satisfied with using PERMENANTLY on my body. My next option was dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine. I had it all played out. But the more I thought about it the more I knew there had to be a better option. AND THERE WAS!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAirqXIuAxEYGoAB1C8e025y1zt1vYnIosHNLdr14LSIBWuhRIiMgiJkPh9BrL4W_aKXoXT-oLlfLNdn7LTNPrhiPhIxgfazCgMiwh9nK1dlRB3gLvC9VHaI29vmWPWw4bAltzWzZ6edme/s640/blogger-image--827961434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAirqXIuAxEYGoAB1C8e025y1zt1vYnIosHNLdr14LSIBWuhRIiMgiJkPh9BrL4W_aKXoXT-oLlfLNdn7LTNPrhiPhIxgfazCgMiwh9nK1dlRB3gLvC9VHaI29vmWPWw4bAltzWzZ6edme/s320/blogger-image--827961434.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ATP</td></tr>
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ATP, or adenosine triphosphate. ATP is responsible for transporting chemical energy within cells for metabolism. It is basically the only reason you can do anything. You want to run? Need some ATP. Want to go for a swim or just breath in the sun? Definitely need ATP. It is the most basic "food" needed for anything you want to do. An it was perfect to tie my science life to my running life.<br />
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Hopefully the new tattoo with light a fire under my ass....<br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-46713976454157163302015-09-25T21:49:00.001-04:002015-09-25T21:49:57.448-04:00Put a Ring on It<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdS2kJWicPeWghSNHTmxxZJ-c9UpylhQRqs8TUm2kEEjFfKK5wtmSa_AnOiNG468eD8Qy1rE6XJgIIDWawqI58mugyi_t6FAIAswoQAhzCki36rTbjNU4x1LKN1WSZ7DXL_KvgCoyQ7H6V/s640/blogger-image-1235980677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdS2kJWicPeWghSNHTmxxZJ-c9UpylhQRqs8TUm2kEEjFfKK5wtmSa_AnOiNG468eD8Qy1rE6XJgIIDWawqI58mugyi_t6FAIAswoQAhzCki36rTbjNU4x1LKN1WSZ7DXL_KvgCoyQ7H6V/s200/blogger-image-1235980677.jpg" width="200" /></a>Now that my sister's wedding shower is over I can share this gem of a texteration. I'm not going to go into the shower cause this is not that kind of blog. Suffice it to say it was beautiful, fun, and everything I wanted and she hoped it would be.<br />
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Now, this is a textertion between myself and one of my best friends of about 20 years. We met in 1993 to give you a scale of the friendship.<br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-60262838869857341592015-09-25T21:32:00.003-04:002015-09-25T21:34:25.671-04:00So Long GeorgeWhen I left off with George I was getting ready to go to his place for an evening. And I did. And it was pretty fun. Yes, he made innuendos and played the "let's watch this movie in my room" card. But I kept it all PG and had a great time. He even quoted Friends which DID score him some brownie points. However, I did not like his persistence on the whole sex front and I did not appreciate what he said to me about my clothing. The clothing comment boiled down to no girl wearing what I was wearing would come over expecting to ONLY watch a movie. It sniffed of victim blaming. I would like to point out that I was wearing leggings and a tank top.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXDGqZiV7ik6bwQNs0XpeVaF0P584qcWxppi-B6BYiXE0rmhRlEcScbCkA7pZIhFCqvSvH4tjKDca4bgr68xjcTVeJBf-2XD261-QeDo2PeNPCM3hyphenhyphenOqz0b1-wMwat5n-WrrxBNZePkTH/s640/blogger-image-58110957.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEXDGqZiV7ik6bwQNs0XpeVaF0P584qcWxppi-B6BYiXE0rmhRlEcScbCkA7pZIhFCqvSvH4tjKDca4bgr68xjcTVeJBf-2XD261-QeDo2PeNPCM3hyphenhyphenOqz0b1-wMwat5n-WrrxBNZePkTH/s320/blogger-image-58110957.jpg" width="234" /></a><br />
I brushed this off, thinking maybe he doesn't hear himself. And the fact that we got along in every other way. We had the banter down. The teasing. The chemistry.<br />
<br />
And then he came over to my house.<br />
<br />
I saw him pull in but it was 5 min and he still hadn't come to the door. What was he doing you ask? Pulling the weeds/grass out of the cracks in my driveway. "No girl who is a friend of mine is going to live like the Clampets." Then he asked where my mower was cause my grass was not to the height he felt it should be. I will say that I haven't mowed in awhile and the grass was a bit high. But not so high that it was obnoxious.<br />
<br />
After I talked him out of mowing, we went inside to discuss dinner and the evening. I was in the kitchen and when I turned around he was gone. Where could he have gone? Mind you, this is the first time he's been in my house. I found him sprawled out on my BED! WTF dude!? Ok, maybe he's just overly familiar. I rolled with it.<br />
<br />
Dinner. He didn't want what I had prepared previously, so we went to Whole Foods and he picked up some prepared foods for himself. I ate what I already had. After dinner, though, we were relaxing on the couch watching Breaking Bad and bantering back and forth.....<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BYpA4Tf29CZcQeCm_ZFPSpCDtxlSMAZV3fi3QuVByHyHhoVS5dWjZPdk5H5zAKxwSazjy96zBvWPu5R9vxnbyyGfj8l5IlP66bLt1sX0BU17NAxRvu2dw3aaB4Iaa3ZxZ2rXYngl16cU/s640/blogger-image-1824631583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7BYpA4Tf29CZcQeCm_ZFPSpCDtxlSMAZV3fi3QuVByHyHhoVS5dWjZPdk5H5zAKxwSazjy96zBvWPu5R9vxnbyyGfj8l5IlP66bLt1sX0BU17NAxRvu2dw3aaB4Iaa3ZxZ2rXYngl16cU/s320/blogger-image-1824631583.jpg" width="320" /></a>and then he says, "Lets go in your room and watch this."<br />
Well, we can't do that. I don't have a working tv in there, so the ploy is not work able. Then he says he just wants to go in there and cuddle, talk, and just relax together. I didn't see why we couldn't do that on the couch.<br />
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After a few back and forth like this he says, "If we don't go in there I'm going home."<br />
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DONE! See ya!<br />
<br />
He left and I haven't talked to him since.<br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-46749831042741800922015-09-04T12:04:00.000-04:002015-09-04T12:04:13.468-04:00Brownie Points<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXQbePQO1dSnxNMX9S4uXfqP4RZwp7TnBgeuuP-eU8mxtZkP2pUTXBOuafJeRHKjFNgoHre4MF95BMvsttBZlaNUMQlBHgZZroRfhuUJb5xSyDS7cFuWo3bTRwKHNQHMYsd6oxrZDvs0g/s640/blogger-image-1251758222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXQbePQO1dSnxNMX9S4uXfqP4RZwp7TnBgeuuP-eU8mxtZkP2pUTXBOuafJeRHKjFNgoHre4MF95BMvsttBZlaNUMQlBHgZZroRfhuUJb5xSyDS7cFuWo3bTRwKHNQHMYsd6oxrZDvs0g/s320/blogger-image-1251758222.jpg" width="320" /></a>I am dating (in the loose sense of the word) George Clooney!<br />
<br />
Ok, not the real George but close enough he could pass for his pudgier brother. According to him I am not the first person to think this. On the first date George wanted to take a selfie. I find this odd, my friends find it cute. The date itself was ok. Obviously, he's attractive. He's funny. Attentive. But the date itself had an interview feel to it with rapid fire questions. He kisses well, though.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3O_0t6hovi8LCvaStGXVsDUXNYxIGbZbq_5QDH7borgWD6Zc-zb60Xp7gf9UwiJXANg3uUNIlzNBLaOarS-bG1s1DpGPQrKyeMzFR40zqFsc_faX0kGrF6Zt0-eM0B2CHyXSCd9qcbgi/s640/blogger-image--1529117497.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN3O_0t6hovi8LCvaStGXVsDUXNYxIGbZbq_5QDH7borgWD6Zc-zb60Xp7gf9UwiJXANg3uUNIlzNBLaOarS-bG1s1DpGPQrKyeMzFR40zqFsc_faX0kGrF6Zt0-eM0B2CHyXSCd9qcbgi/s200/blogger-image--1529117497.jpg" width="200" /></a>48 hours later found me on a second date with him. Let me say that again FOURTY EIGHT HOURS!!<br />
On a Tuesday. So many reservations... Maybe it was a strike while the irons hot sort of thing.<br />
<br />
Now, you know me. I'm old, I have a routine. I wake at 5-510am to go to the gym, so I'm in bed around 9-930. Week day date nights are not my favorite but he wanted to go to FIRE and I've been dying to go there for 8 years.<br />
<br />
Then he wanted to pick me up. More reservations! Second date, he now knows were I live. If the date goes bad I can't escape to my car and leave. The date is no longer on my time table.<br />
<br />
Ok, breath. I can give up a little control. And I did. He picked me up. We went to dinner. I found out he has MS (not sure how I feel on this). He hasn't had a consistant job. He's still bitter about his divorce (rather fresh). He has children. That is the extent of what I know. I feel like I know nothing of substance from him. He jokes a lot, to the point where I don't know if he's joking or for real.<br />
<br />
The real point of this post is this gem:<br />
<br />
When we get back to my house (8:45), he pulls ALL the way up my drive and parks in front of my garage. Guys I dated for 6 months and actually stayed the night never did this! He proceeds to act like he's coming in at which point I ask what he's doing..<br />
"aren't you going to ask me in?"<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasUVZCjPqG-2eZRXAQmmDPO0jG8ng4uDcd3qm6ql5szBEaoj1f7zqRL71c4rq-JE6KyWn3OfS17IEjZVtLpEtz4KjdBfr5EFlRFEgo6MFZ8AfDNZwe3QWg8ONFp0SydU22aoqwegGJWxR/s640/blogger-image--1835986805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasUVZCjPqG-2eZRXAQmmDPO0jG8ng4uDcd3qm6ql5szBEaoj1f7zqRL71c4rq-JE6KyWn3OfS17IEjZVtLpEtz4KjdBfr5EFlRFEgo6MFZ8AfDNZwe3QWg8ONFp0SydU22aoqwegGJWxR/s200/blogger-image--1835986805.jpg" width="200" /></a>"No. It's almost 9oclock and I need to go to bed for the gym in the morning."<br />
"oh"<br />
We sit in the car for a few minutes, talking with the occasional kiss. He then says:<br />
"I would just like to point out that I think I should get some brownie points."<br />
"You do? For what?"<br />
"I haven't touched your boobs or grabbed your ass all night."<br />
"So, you think you get brownie points for being a decent human being, doing what normal people would do and not being a douchebag?"<br />
"Yes, I've been a gentleman."<br />
"No, you're being normal and asking for "points" kind of takes away from the whole "gelntleman" thing." I hope he thinks about this. Not sure it hit home.<br />
<br />
He then asked me to spend an evening with him sometime this weekend. And by evening he means all night, but he'll sleep in another room if I want. I've agreed to see him again, like I said I feel I don't know the true George and observing him in his natural habitat may help. I did not agree to the sleep over. The only way that is going to happen is if I get VERY drunk or he drugs me. I'm taking pepper spray.<br />
<br />
Stay tuned!<br />
PS. In rereading this I'd like to make a point. In telling/asking me to stay the night ahead of time he has basically cock blocked himself. Had he just let the night play out he would have gotten a lot further. That's the trouble with some guys that I've talked to. They want to know ahead of time if they are going to get "any." That is a turn off and makes the outcome 100% no. Had they just taken me for drinks, and played the night out and been a cool decent person then the odds are 50/50.<br />
<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-10003675127507573682015-08-27T19:51:00.003-04:002015-08-27T19:52:03.438-04:00Sorry ContinuedEarlier this week I got a notice that a <a href="http://diydiva.net/" target="_blank">Friend</a> of mine tagged me in a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3xa0fyXwTE" target="_blank">VIDEO</a> for me to watch.<br />
If more guys watched this, we'd all be safer!CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-54392032267243679652015-08-19T12:03:00.000-04:002015-08-19T12:04:12.870-04:00TRUTH<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvM37kHjBUg0haSKxNLAOvvpz-LovOnjeWVSgkYsLGLoS4gD0WU11CGhmmPm8iSjZXitXDV6Gi7rUn62R6kx4qgToPWrVXWBAh39XmtCVoMKZCBxQHUr1yiW-nlprhHpL98Pc3CG67KHb4/s640/blogger-image-840330032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvM37kHjBUg0haSKxNLAOvvpz-LovOnjeWVSgkYsLGLoS4gD0WU11CGhmmPm8iSjZXitXDV6Gi7rUn62R6kx4qgToPWrVXWBAh39XmtCVoMKZCBxQHUr1yiW-nlprhHpL98Pc3CG67KHb4/s320/blogger-image-840330032.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't tell you how many times this has been said to me.<br />
And how many times I just want scream at the person saying it. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Last months Runners World has an article, <a href="http://www.runnersworld.com/runners-stories/ultra" target="_blank">Ultra</a>, that hits home in every way. I found myself wanting to highlight paragraphs for later. Wanting to cut out sections and frame them for daily affirmations. Everything this woman says speaks to me and my life.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKlhm5IYENPGRpY27v48mJPsANlI18ls9OSiMl4KYBaMvhsL1HRl8c1bIZni24kJ4d6HnPVtlxuGxnYcQatUK7npoNQX2MbV_LJCBgEVVhuGzNhUERxPVnm5eNnjV2hEi3VhoCPo_lZ0l/s640/blogger-image--2038291063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="37" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNKlhm5IYENPGRpY27v48mJPsANlI18ls9OSiMl4KYBaMvhsL1HRl8c1bIZni24kJ4d6HnPVtlxuGxnYcQatUK7npoNQX2MbV_LJCBgEVVhuGzNhUERxPVnm5eNnjV2hEi3VhoCPo_lZ0l/s200/blogger-image--2038291063.jpg" width="200" /></a>The gist of the article is this, can you be fit and still be fat? The article follows an obese woman who runs ultras. She may not come in first but she also doesn't come in last. As I was reading it I wished that I had a highlighter with me. It is one of only a handful of RW articles that I have read multiple times.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVeQg_jDLeOBb6MJvas0bsBtyfSEkllMyLweO_AXTmSJEsHxMKyzOousehLmky19dIUNk-ETmdvKoH3GS9lOyHmRienH_RLO8NQ85LRKEu7OgcPnKGcIUNkCggWT1LDFibicOAmpBAYjOI/s640/blogger-image--1846994394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVeQg_jDLeOBb6MJvas0bsBtyfSEkllMyLweO_AXTmSJEsHxMKyzOousehLmky19dIUNk-ETmdvKoH3GS9lOyHmRienH_RLO8NQ85LRKEu7OgcPnKGcIUNkCggWT1LDFibicOAmpBAYjOI/s200/blogger-image--1846994394.jpg" width="200" /></a>I'm just going to leave it here with a few clips.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55w_Sps34QOX6gSJyD62f6v0JJcsmvJ7DdxLS3_8JMYDM57T0N9eUDd87xiBzgzpzBdGO0Bg2Rx9gxovLLUpQcQDYZD9zXAr6DZn196_cu8t7x48bPmMJ7woxoDzmZEDJr4ntjuXwzxZk/s640/blogger-image--1900680923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="48" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55w_Sps34QOX6gSJyD62f6v0JJcsmvJ7DdxLS3_8JMYDM57T0N9eUDd87xiBzgzpzBdGO0Bg2Rx9gxovLLUpQcQDYZD9zXAr6DZn196_cu8t7x48bPmMJ7woxoDzmZEDJr4ntjuXwzxZk/s200/blogger-image--1900680923.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFrhHLhdjEQkkyoeXMfIJAn_ETwocloVy3lRpYDCc4zNOb3cRPs9sNT8rOKq7oDg0XDGhX5GSJgbxFTmdUAxhFPqjXxZ8OcpFKYd6z8F2xH5i8KFi4L2NjeFLi_TeOhjleF1sldomQvyv/s640/blogger-image--1442535802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAFrhHLhdjEQkkyoeXMfIJAn_ETwocloVy3lRpYDCc4zNOb3cRPs9sNT8rOKq7oDg0XDGhX5GSJgbxFTmdUAxhFPqjXxZ8OcpFKYd6z8F2xH5i8KFi4L2NjeFLi_TeOhjleF1sldomQvyv/s200/blogger-image--1442535802.jpg" width="200" /></a>On a side not: I was talking with my nutritionist (did I tell you I have one now?) and she asked about my activity. I said I was getting back into the swing of my old 2years ago routine but running was still in issue. I wasn't running any long distances, you know just 4 miles. She side eyed me and said 4 miles is a long distance. Which I suppose is true but I'd like to get back to easy 10s.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDf27rK4aL_HmRdflSakk3mPMpWHW-RbkTV3VQYFaWIpfvUr4i74oVWNk00wwBLdoHAYkR3tChK3YeyLNHoMy_Ki9Zqb2qkmFPOn0Vf7m7-IfD_sA9A8CldjHKe2STpO5c3bft4iUtSr8B/s640/blogger-image-1262201238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDf27rK4aL_HmRdflSakk3mPMpWHW-RbkTV3VQYFaWIpfvUr4i74oVWNk00wwBLdoHAYkR3tChK3YeyLNHoMy_Ki9Zqb2qkmFPOn0Vf7m7-IfD_sA9A8CldjHKe2STpO5c3bft4iUtSr8B/s200/blogger-image-1262201238.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-29632571789622814532015-08-08T12:33:00.001-04:002015-08-08T12:33:55.893-04:00Sorry, I'm Not SorryI know I've posted before about unsolicited dic pics. I find them extremely annoying.<br />
<br />
You get a notification that you've got a text.<br />
You open it expecting a "Good morning!" or "Hey, what are you up to today?"<br />
And SURPRISE!! Here's my penis!<br />
It's 9 o'clock in the fucking morning. I haven't heard from this guy in a little over a week mostly because he invited me to do something with him and then basically rescinded the offer within minutes because it would take me 45min to get to where he was. Which really pissed me off and I washed my hands of him. Also, I haven't seen him in over a month. And I actually haven't seen his penis in person. By the way, we had ONE date!<br />
<br />
Here is my reaction:<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLb-J_vTkW4CnacGBtBEKbdi4wtGDkq6fQx5fd2avcxHOBYIlkmXxvUTDdYFEwWjSvIWcdXtbLHRfe8w9jNF4OphA0LXyUhXgtXa3UvQg_mIw5HV9yd1iJ9_dPgIkKSWUbOPtGyN9Hao7/s640/blogger-image-1174552026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXLb-J_vTkW4CnacGBtBEKbdi4wtGDkq6fQx5fd2avcxHOBYIlkmXxvUTDdYFEwWjSvIWcdXtbLHRfe8w9jNF4OphA0LXyUhXgtXa3UvQg_mIw5HV9yd1iJ9_dPgIkKSWUbOPtGyN9Hao7/s320/blogger-image-1174552026.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've kept a hint of said penis but removed most of it.<br />Not to protect him but to protect you. Cause nobody needs to see that.<br />I'd also like to point out that even if I had seen it in person I still would<br />not want it on my phone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I had started to type "I'm sorry but..." But I wasn't sorry. He should be the one that is sorry and clearly he wasn't. I've found myself saying "I'm sorry but..." for a lot of things and have to stop myself. Why do a vast majority of women feel the need to be sorry for being assertive? This <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/06/23/opinion/when-an-apology-is-anything-but.html?_r=0" target="_blank">ARTICLE</a>......<br />
<br />
"I think it's because we haven't addressed the deeper meaning of these "sorry." To me, they sound like tiny acts of revolt, expressions of frustrations or anger at having to ask for what should be automatic. They are employed when a situation is so clearly not our fault that we think the apology will serve as a prompt for the person who should be apologizing.<br />
<br />
It's a Trojan horse for genuine annoyance, a tactic left over from centuries of having to couch basic demands in palatable packages in order to get what we want. All that exhausting maneuvering is the etiquette equivalent of a vestigial tail."<br />
<br />
is brilliant and I have resolved to stop being sorry for my feelings. My rights. My thoughts. <br />
You may also want to check out this <a href="http://videos.nymag.com/video/Inside-Amy-Schumer-I-m-Sorry" target="_blank">Amy Schumer sketch.</a> You could also just google "women stop saying I'm sorry," and pull up a multitude of recent articles on the phenomenon.<br />
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(I also just noticed that my blog title begins with an apology, but I'm not changing it.<br />
CAUSE I'M NOT SORRY!)CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-13383037846326365702015-07-09T19:19:00.003-04:002015-07-09T19:19:36.362-04:00Bruises<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qHdh_HThLrKpNCDpHDiZQwxpcRXNBaa1ItE_0c_kAZ6O2dSgbSy6D7Fm-RhMIuh57r88CIztApjzhblD8n-jdZM164Q0s9uq2mXJkme7bFtLjH2SSZ1U82P1dVOYFiDbnB2EZBXwdmJg/s640/blogger-image--1548422208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qHdh_HThLrKpNCDpHDiZQwxpcRXNBaa1ItE_0c_kAZ6O2dSgbSy6D7Fm-RhMIuh57r88CIztApjzhblD8n-jdZM164Q0s9uq2mXJkme7bFtLjH2SSZ1U82P1dVOYFiDbnB2EZBXwdmJg/s200/blogger-image--1548422208.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't even all of the ripped off material!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So. Many. Bruises. And I'm on VACATION!!<br />
<br />
Although, this may be the proudest moment of my life. Or one of. Cause I'm pretty DAMN proud of doing the Half Ironman. But People! I ripped off a garage roof. I tore out the rotted wood boards. I reinforced beams that looked like they had seen better days. I replaced said boards. And, I installed new rolled and shingle roofing.<br />
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ALL ON MY OWN!! And in 2.5 days.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxJ66VMYdvfj5HSKwZjDLSGzLBK0fOxBK5GnDtYdk0JPKQMlFlnEJ9U1jXnufJf0uT0Y-anyOS18fJpKpkCDIPlaVaB_UM9yapWrqvwzdutOlRW4tIkp4KlqtEagU7iRVHtsrc0ypHH0l/s640/blogger-image--1517179400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxJ66VMYdvfj5HSKwZjDLSGzLBK0fOxBK5GnDtYdk0JPKQMlFlnEJ9U1jXnufJf0uT0Y-anyOS18fJpKpkCDIPlaVaB_UM9yapWrqvwzdutOlRW4tIkp4KlqtEagU7iRVHtsrc0ypHH0l/s200/blogger-image--1517179400.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sans rotted wood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I hurt. Really bad last night and this morning but I'm feeling and moving better as the day goes on. I'm going to add a bunch of photos, mostly for my remembrance.<br />
<br />
On a side note: I was supposed to get a new oven yesterday but they took it back because I couldn't unhook the old oven from the gas line. So, if any one is keeping track, I can roof a garage like a fucking ninja but I can't undo a gas hose.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsqNjPV0IqC-BhGObRearGGXfaEh9bW7rLRFOZoztIlx0b0o0tnVnMhfpIUSP9K8s4oIGhvk5c6LDxY0fWkvA8VK1obI4ZY6kwf_KCPLvIrLFVCR4MLfiKyS1MnqE-y5YhFFRENV2FQUwk/s640/blogger-image-370930435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsqNjPV0IqC-BhGObRearGGXfaEh9bW7rLRFOZoztIlx0b0o0tnVnMhfpIUSP9K8s4oIGhvk5c6LDxY0fWkvA8VK1obI4ZY6kwf_KCPLvIrLFVCR4MLfiKyS1MnqE-y5YhFFRENV2FQUwk/s200/blogger-image-370930435.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was to scare my mom. She made me call her every time<br /> I went up on the roof and when I got down.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9aa4hcq-yi25tmsmptIHFiotT8zfeibVL4PrN4IWh9vJP7J6gkG3PlEYzCdtLeyzk_sjfMc_LPXZD9xoMd9Mw4Nxf0HHeYmGx6ZLdzsKDflLNkVXZU-y-s2tYBf86M1OGetfxC7uGxaV/s640/blogger-image--1462484174.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9aa4hcq-yi25tmsmptIHFiotT8zfeibVL4PrN4IWh9vJP7J6gkG3PlEYzCdtLeyzk_sjfMc_LPXZD9xoMd9Mw4Nxf0HHeYmGx6ZLdzsKDflLNkVXZU-y-s2tYBf86M1OGetfxC7uGxaV/s200/blogger-image--1462484174.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished rolled roof section.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVr0BTmsuTaMV-IoITEesFl8sMx8P-_GMS-XyQf7fotnDYblNPmmJflCKuPt50PcSGKU3-rzfL7-h_ItaH4Smu5rEUj5mJAQ1l6lBewZ1hIwwAPyvZswq7HhVyZyGF48GZKMwwvcNxkBvH/s640/blogger-image--1459167523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVr0BTmsuTaMV-IoITEesFl8sMx8P-_GMS-XyQf7fotnDYblNPmmJflCKuPt50PcSGKU3-rzfL7-h_ItaH4Smu5rEUj5mJAQ1l6lBewZ1hIwwAPyvZswq7HhVyZyGF48GZKMwwvcNxkBvH/s200/blogger-image--1459167523.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished shingled section.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdopdCy11xCeJxk2cILamWu9SSMMT9bu1s4giJWW3JK8fmWql37ICfoTo7ahxSOppc7t39n9EfN1TylfFcwbaALGYkyFtVpLU7Ks6k5NOpBuXMZlgngz3En0BLShmhUsAtAyKQiFW2xFc/s640/blogger-image-38487316.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdopdCy11xCeJxk2cILamWu9SSMMT9bu1s4giJWW3JK8fmWql37ICfoTo7ahxSOppc7t39n9EfN1TylfFcwbaALGYkyFtVpLU7Ks6k5NOpBuXMZlgngz3En0BLShmhUsAtAyKQiFW2xFc/s200/blogger-image-38487316.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All my bruises</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyxs4iFicZz38r8jOa7s4PXRPy4CC8hw1183zoCoCH24EqeFCiHSfXbsH6U58gykComup8CiJIwHVpHQlzd_yhyphenhyphen9_NXudI4QgfjPPHjUc3jySQz0hxAtIDIppX49t6xeYWbRI1h3CiarNp/s640/blogger-image-65008960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyxs4iFicZz38r8jOa7s4PXRPy4CC8hw1183zoCoCH24EqeFCiHSfXbsH6U58gykComup8CiJIwHVpHQlzd_yhyphenhyphen9_NXudI4QgfjPPHjUc3jySQz0hxAtIDIppX49t6xeYWbRI1h3CiarNp/s200/blogger-image-65008960.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some more</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-12561111272818476952015-06-28T20:26:00.001-04:002015-06-28T20:29:42.294-04:00Sweet Spot?I think I might be in that sweet age spot. I'm old enough to be hit on by a 19yo looking for an "older lady" and still young enough to be an older guys "trophy."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtO1rsKpczJkBb3kPrauAXeDN-rIBKpN0PH_MhEm3f7odleo1hJTbO0ZYio-ONvEzs6BOil4ZVmPzutt2zwGwhfA0jEbgDKEnaZpPR0q4Qd53di_LfWshh7Oi5MRVlpO3-go1mq6Hfpf0/s640/blogger-image--1539763665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtO1rsKpczJkBb3kPrauAXeDN-rIBKpN0PH_MhEm3f7odleo1hJTbO0ZYio-ONvEzs6BOil4ZVmPzutt2zwGwhfA0jEbgDKEnaZpPR0q4Qd53di_LfWshh7Oi5MRVlpO3-go1mq6Hfpf0/s320/blogger-image--1539763665.jpg" width="320" /></a>Friday, I was hit on by a 19yo college student who has a thing for older women. After I dismissed him as a child, he wanted to snapchat me. First, I don't snapchat. I don't get it. Second, I'm pretty sure if I did have snapchat he was just going to send me a dick pic to show me what I'd be missing.<br />
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I was also hit on by a 57yo. I should point out that until writing this I thought he was 55. HE IS 10 YEARS YOUNGER THAN MY DAD!! He has sent me messages periodically in the past and I've just ignored him, mostly because of the age and because he never had any pictures. I thought I'd humor him this time and wrote back. Some how I got talked into meeting for a drink. Well, not some how, it's been raining like mad here and I've been stuck in the house almost the whole weekend. A drink out and some conversation sounds mighty nice. It's at 3pm. Just in time for Early Bird Dinner!<br />
<br />
**Ok, It wasn't awful but it wasn't great. And the whole time I kept thinking, "you could be my dad!" He's not my type even if he was younger.<br />
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**The 19yo keeps emailing. I may think about giving him a chance. I'm bored and he's only around for the summer.CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-45974969765446375202015-06-27T20:59:00.000-04:002015-06-27T20:59:48.317-04:00Atalanta II<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzs_P6_8dKs3OvAnTpDB2gFP9bjSTTa60laoSkRTqiA9-OswQw33VR8_434wha4sGzjIiJJh39fIuchcmzpwCxYE0DRu1Qt7X-5JXb7bolNLx1l7VjJdMPpRGhZ7_XOLCv7Hi9Rjz4wZG/s640/blogger-image--302829914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVzs_P6_8dKs3OvAnTpDB2gFP9bjSTTa60laoSkRTqiA9-OswQw33VR8_434wha4sGzjIiJJh39fIuchcmzpwCxYE0DRu1Qt7X-5JXb7bolNLx1l7VjJdMPpRGhZ7_XOLCv7Hi9Rjz4wZG/s200/blogger-image--302829914.jpg" width="150" /></a>I put Atalanta the first to sleep last night. She was getting to be too much work. In case you don't remember Atalanta is the name I gave to my iPod shuffle. She was orange and beautiful and worked wonderfully for 4 or 5 years. But over the past year she's been crapping out a mile or two into a run, even on a fresh charge. If I reset her to factory and then reloaded her she lasted for a whole run or two.<br />
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Last Thursday was the last straw! I was a mile into a three mile run and she completely stopped playing. It was very uncool. Right after yoga I marched over to the Apple store and purchased a new one. My plan was to get another orange one, it's a pretty color. But they had a <a href="http://www.red.org/en/learn/manifesto" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Product (Red)</span></a> one and it was candy apple red. Gorgeous!! Same price and a percent of the proceeds would go to help fight AIDS. And I'm sold.<br />
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Took her out this morning and she's wonderful!<br />
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Also, this may or may not be my new wallpaper on my phone.<br />
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CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-47187237865118720452015-06-26T07:55:00.000-04:002015-06-26T07:55:11.816-04:00Street HarassmentY'all! I am guilty of street harassment! In my head.<br />
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This is how it went down:<br />
I was walking into work the other day and this hot, bearded, besuited MAN was in front of me. And LORD if the view from behind was not beautiful. In my head he turned to me and asked what I was doing. "Just admiring the view." And then it hit me! That is total street harassment. Dear God!<br />
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And then I used it to my advantage. The above convo happened again but then I said, "I am sorry! That is total street harassment. And I'm completely against it." That led to a great conversation and a follow up date.<br />
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And all of this took place <b><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">IN MY HEAD!!!</span></b><br />
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I may be crazy.CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-73141702246258472092015-05-11T20:53:00.000-04:002015-05-11T20:53:26.528-04:00Neighborhood Watch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This past Saturday I did a 3 mile run and then promptly came home to shower. It was hot and I was sweaty. Saturdays are also the days I do my grocery shopping, so after my 2 hours of liesurely coffee sipping, I drove off to the Market. As I pulled out of my drive I could not for the life of me remember if I put on deodorant. Being the only logical thing, I sniffed my pits, in my car with the windows down, rocking out loudly to Dirty Diana......as I drove past the hot new neighbor drinking his coffee on his front porch.<br />
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Lesson? 1. Always be aware of new nieghbors.<br />
2. maybe you should look around before sniffing your pits!CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-81222204334014128712015-05-07T15:34:00.000-04:002015-05-07T15:34:29.667-04:00My Age 2This past weekend I ran the Flying Pig 10K. I survived, which is the best I can say.<br />
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No. That's not true. I ran most of it and my achilles bothered me very little, even after (bourbon may be key in recovery). I came in 10min slower than my very first 10K but it has kick started me into running again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilo4kpzOmLFuPSyn9hg17huATNfa38MezacHURqfoTkFGKYi8UsfKV4lPXl3juZLcvLZRjN3MAQqstChJCR39ZyXpShTIQa8drNsGxZ7SqPktTeqj0Cl6DJtEGSUlXcb_YVSwM824DMH2u/s1600/carded.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilo4kpzOmLFuPSyn9hg17huATNfa38MezacHURqfoTkFGKYi8UsfKV4lPXl3juZLcvLZRjN3MAQqstChJCR39ZyXpShTIQa8drNsGxZ7SqPktTeqj0Cl6DJtEGSUlXcb_YVSwM824DMH2u/s320/carded.png" width="320" /></a>But, while down in Cinci I stayed with a very close friend, Jane, and her husband. We always spend Friday night catching up with maybe a drink and Friday I had a small Makers on ice. I was complaining about how old I feel and need to state my age, at which point I forgot how old I was and instead said 56. CLEARLY a lie but it stuck all weekend.<br />
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Me: These shoes are really bothering my feet.<br />
Jane: Well, you are 56, so it's to be expected.<br />
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Me: I think I'm drunk. I've only had 2 sangrias.<br />
Jane: That's because you're 56 and you can't handle your liquor anymore.<br />
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But the main point is this. Her and I went out to lunch after the race. She ordered a beer and got carded. I ordered sangria and did not. At first I was happy about this. I don't have to dig for my ID, which I may have forgotten (it happens). And I'm finally adult enough to not look underage. But then I realized Jane and I are the same age and CLEARLY I look older. Or 56 to be exact. Had I actually had a couple of drinks prior to not getting carded I may have gotten belligerent. Instead, I silently pouted.CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-86404058535950313892015-05-05T20:15:00.001-04:002015-05-05T20:22:57.180-04:00First World ProblemsLord, today has been a trial! And most of it has been the dating equivalent of first world problems.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9C0rm9w9dlXhhB9qZCcdtfC9pRaJGNofoz6aZYxKe5c4q8g0vS2KicFw4_g8Zbd1fw6oucfvU0WjC5Em42Dv9U78p8Wlb8HK3jy4J13rSeHQbl2Bx76GTFohoX-Spdkzw8apafQkP2bC/s640/blogger-image--773955217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic9C0rm9w9dlXhhB9qZCcdtfC9pRaJGNofoz6aZYxKe5c4q8g0vS2KicFw4_g8Zbd1fw6oucfvU0WjC5Em42Dv9U78p8Wlb8HK3jy4J13rSeHQbl2Bx76GTFohoX-Spdkzw8apafQkP2bC/s320/blogger-image--773955217.jpg" width="320" /></a>For starters I woke up an hour before my alarm making it impossible to justify not running! So, I went out for a 3 miler, grabbing my Garmin and my shuffle. A mile into the run my shuffle died. AGAIN! It's really only making 3 (extremely short) runs before dying and needing to be restored. Problem, No music. I almost turned around and called it quits. But, I stuck it out and had to listen to me huffing and puffing. I've reset it again and put all my music back on it but it's getting super annoying. I hate the thought of buying a new one, I've only had it 4 years and I feel like it should last forever! I'm pretty sure I can turn it in and they will donate it to someone but I really don't want to spend $50.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpF1wrWatv8c9NrGNSg84OslfUIT5W1IZjmzDa8y4JEOkNHLwAm_N-iH8oBnUPhYsA_2RQFhO089AiJsPv7zcDNUHGbK0xh_iiOOm5_IGaYosLq1IhK8EXqhUvkvBJubiz_n8NLRJ6c5qs/s640/blogger-image-329403793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpF1wrWatv8c9NrGNSg84OslfUIT5W1IZjmzDa8y4JEOkNHLwAm_N-iH8oBnUPhYsA_2RQFhO089AiJsPv7zcDNUHGbK0xh_iiOOm5_IGaYosLq1IhK8EXqhUvkvBJubiz_n8NLRJ6c5qs/s200/blogger-image-329403793.jpg" width="200" /></a>Over breakfast I was trying to line up a "date" for tonight. Really more of a friends with benefits type thing. I had tentative plans with Hot Dan, the carpenter, who I mentioned in the last post of maybe converting him to a BF. Then he had to go a get the feels and all mushy on me. In the process of telling me he could not make it tonight he informed me that he didn't want to reconnect and have a great time with me if I was just going to end up dating someone else. He apparently, was very hurt when I told him I was dating Joshua. I had no idea that he wanted more and pointed that out. Well, I kind of cock blocked myself on that one.<br />
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I went to my back up, Stan. Yesterday he was all hitting me up to hang out but when I texted to hang out tonight he had to get all ragey with his physical therapist. It was medicine induced and they have changed his pain meds but he wants to take a couple of days and get his shit together. Fair. But I just need a little maintenance!<br />
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What is the point of having two booty calls if neither can can make it?!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRy6COxjfWcQYxftf5lCTJtQ1lj9oFH9LmKQJDqHG1XpuHR_M6Zoz0PJNNpF33qrdjEd-cUO-x41tLJylYkkm9lA-z_-GF6rN2IvtUFj2b2Ok4QfxtOSnElcxk_qKI92HlSqRnwX875KXL/s640/blogger-image-373104645.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRy6COxjfWcQYxftf5lCTJtQ1lj9oFH9LmKQJDqHG1XpuHR_M6Zoz0PJNNpF33qrdjEd-cUO-x41tLJylYkkm9lA-z_-GF6rN2IvtUFj2b2Ok4QfxtOSnElcxk_qKI92HlSqRnwX875KXL/s320/blogger-image-373104645.jpg" width="320" /></a>An update on actual dating. I had an amazing date with Douglas <a href="http://marathondater.blogspot.com/2012/02/sort-of-my-typical-sunday.html" target="_blank">briefly mentioned at the end of this post</a> and <a href="http://marathondater.blogspot.com/2012/03/spring.html" target="_blank">this post.</a> If I remember correctly we had 3 great dates at the start of 2012 and I really liked him but he then put me in maintenance mode and ended up getting back with an ex. We however became friends on FB and have periodically talked about getting drinks. Well, he found me on OkCupid, we emailed, texted and finally got drinks last night. And I have to tell you, I completely forgot how hot he is. It was probably the best 4 hour date I have ever had. It ended well and we have texted a bit today. I'm hopeful for another date this weekend. He does travel a lot for work and I have no idea what his schedule is like.<br />
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THIS however, will probably kill Hot Dan should it work out. He takes each successive maintenance mode worse and worse.<br />
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<br />CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2409894232351984757.post-57816915003707433042015-04-30T15:39:00.001-04:002015-04-30T15:39:17.861-04:00My AgeFor the first time in 36 years I actually feel my age. I've felt this way for the past month or two and it may be Crossfit kicking my ass or it may be that I'm 36 and old.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNCgH5viUrITM177HBkrNNjCCmRcNn5-vSEIh3TW3nA4yPZsbYyx0bl779EIuqkv90JW_-WN4I7vg7E5nmLgxQbjj3HRdAd6FG3nIqSQVCK3RO9ui_zITJTO84Ba_9M7YUnBx8zh6Pf6P/s640/blogger-image-259759207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNCgH5viUrITM177HBkrNNjCCmRcNn5-vSEIh3TW3nA4yPZsbYyx0bl779EIuqkv90JW_-WN4I7vg7E5nmLgxQbjj3HRdAd6FG3nIqSQVCK3RO9ui_zITJTO84Ba_9M7YUnBx8zh6Pf6P/s320/blogger-image-259759207.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
My mother facetimed me yesterday as I was attempting to get off the couch for water. There may have been some creaking and moaning involved in that attempt, which prompted my mother to ask "what is wrong with you?" Old age mom, old age.<br />
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This weekend has me both scared and excited. Scared, because I'm going to do a 10k run on basically one 3mile long run and sporadic 2milers. But, I'm SUPER EXCITED to see my friends that live in Cincinnati!!<br />
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Also, I'm back on the dating scene and it's exhausting. I got emailed by a 21yo offering to be my slave and calling me a goddess. My sister made me throw him back. Which, in retrospect was the right call but still......it may have been fun for a bit.<br />
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A crazy sidenote about this dating..I was talking with a friend the other day about my dating life and prospects and mentioned that if I could just form the carpenter Hot Dan into a boyfriend I would probably be all set. We had chemistry but his drinking and such made him a bad BF. Guess who texted the next day? And he doesn't drink anymore! So....we'll see. going to try to meet up Sunday.CLE Runnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03577213784613849324noreply@blogger.com1