Running From Aunt Bertha to Concept Cars

Women have a terribly skewed body image. Rarely will you meet a woman who thinks her body is smoking hot and loves trying on bathing suits when indeed her body resembles your Great Aunt Bertha’s whose image you have burned into your brain from that time in elementary you walked in on her in the bathroom. The image that encourages you to run a bit further, a bit longer, a bit anything more to ensure you are not her. Well, now, have a baby. Shoot, have two and try telling yourself you look fine in your suit. I’m three months out from having my second baby. I am extremely proud of my children, love my family, and am a happy person, so please don’t read too far into this blog, people. I have been trying to watch my calories, which I have never done before. My fit sister told me about an app called MyFitnessPal. You simply tell it how much you want to loose, plug in what you eat daily, and it will calculate your daily caloric intake and give you a count down of how many calories you have left to stay on track of your weight loss goal. I’m a bit competitive. I see that number and will do my darndest to stay under it! Your workouts are even calculated! I enjoy running and have decided to get back at it to help me meet my goal. Running here in California is ridiculous! Two years ago I had the privilege of participating in the Bourbon Chase in Kentucky. The Bourbon chase is a 200 mile race that takes place over 2 days with 11 of your friends. You run from distillery to distillery. It is amazing. However, the hills are killers. Coming from the Midwest, where it is flat and perfect conditions for running, the hills in Kentucky were evil. Here in California they make the evil hills of Kentucky look like guardian angles kissing the foreheads of little cherubs. They trick you too! They look beautiful. They have green vineyards that look Hollywood perfect. You begin your run. It’s surreal as you begin to realize, “I live here!” Immediately after that thought your thighs begin to burn, your buns begin to scream at you, and your shins begin to split. Congratulations, you’ve just made it to .02 miles on your TomTom watch. “Aunt Bertha. Aunt Bertha. Don’t be Aunt Bertha.” You push yourself through. It was during one of these runs I was on the last leg of my route. I was feeling good about myself. I had made it farther and a few seconds faster. As I ran through a residential part of my route a Bronco SUV passes by slowly. Well, hellooo, California and contact buzz. I swear this car was a concept car that would put Elon Musk to shame. Psh, battery powered car, not hippy enough. Meet the Marijuana powered car. Its fumes will relax you as it drives you to it’s destination. Californians don’t realize, we Midwesterners are not use to that smell just being out in the open at any time. When I got back home, my eyes felt as though they were bleeding. It was painful to breathe through my nose. I felt as though I had snorted lighter fluid! Oh the pain! My asthma was ripping my lungs apart! It wasn’t until an hour or so later when I still felt all this pain, that I realized it was allergies. California. New state, new home, new jobs, new allergies. Welcome. ch