Enjoy the ride.
Do you think a Labrador, or any other dog for that matter, could save the world?
Okay, show of hands. Who’s seen this one?
Admit it. We all have weird crap we do in a cosmic, karmic effort to help our teams win. In this house we have a multitude of practices, including, but limited to:
-chewing on pendants
-turning visors backwards and upside down
-throwing away said pillow if it doesn’t work
-rubbing challenge coins
-chewing on said challenge coins
-hugging legs to chest
-shaking the crap out of favorite team’s doll with removable limbs
-tossing said doll at television if team throws an interception
-holding hands so tight digital damage is incurred (may or may not result in trip to ER. AFTER game is over.)
-rubbing nose 3 times, pulling twice on right earlobe, grasping left ankle and hopping 5 times in a counter-clockwise circle while chanting in Swahili
What is it about our love for sports that turns us into rabid, hot-tempered, no-holds-barred, I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass-all-the-way-back-Philly maniacs? I place complete blame for my sports insanity on older brothers and a husband who’s just as much of a sports freak as I am. Even if part of his loyalty is COMPLETELY misplaced.
Growing up in a properly sports educated environment-
I was taught at an early age to respect people’s team choices. (Except, of course, when it comes to baseball and football). However, I also learned the fine art of a properly timed zinger, how to properly deliver said properly timed zinger, and when, in the spirit of sportsmanship, to walk away from what could end up being an inconveniently timed trip to above mentioned emergency department, (i.e., NEVER before halfway through the fourth quarter, the bottom of the ninth, the last 2 minutes of the third period, or if it’s the Heat, and it’s the playoffs, before the last second of the last overtime).
That’s not to say I’m very good at the timing, but once in a while – okay a REALLY great while – I am SPOT ON with my digs. And I ROCK IT.
I love good-natured ribbing, and as a faithful Red Sox fan since the time Mom popped me out into the world, I’ve been on the receiving end of it PLENTY of times. And it’s all good, especially when it’s all done in fun. But we’ve probably all seen when schmucks – usually drunk schmucks – take it too far.
It’s all well and good to be a rabid supporter of your favorite team(s). Just remember – in the end, it’s all just a game. The outcome won’t affect the world on its axis, won’t change where the sun rises and sets, and probably will be forgotten a year later. Unless it’s the Red Sox breaking that goddamn curse and winning the World Series. That will NEVER be forgotten.
Enjoy the ride.
Would you consider yourself to be a rabid sports fan? Have you ever gotten into a pissing contest with a rival fan? Who won? Did it include a trip to the emergency room?
For a nation that’s supposedly one of the most advanced in the world, we are absolutely pathetic when it comes to animal welfare. There is no one organization that keeps track of animal abuse statistics, and it would probably be completely inaccurate anyway. Just like with domestic abuse and rape, animal abuse goes way, way, under-reported. What does THAT say about our society?
I will admit it – I am a TOTAL breed snob. I truly believe that Labradors are the greatest breed ever and you will never get me to change my tune on that. That being said though, there aren’t too many breeds, including mutts, I don’t love. There are plenty of breeds I don’t trust for various reasons, but dogs are what we humans make them. Irresponsible breeding, puppy mill conditions, abuse, neglect, and just plain nasty human nature will ensure animal shelter workers will always have job security.
So what do we do to change the culture? Education and spay/neuter programs are a drop in the bucket compared to the abuse and overpopulation problem. But as a nation, WE CANNOT GIVE UP. Can’t afford to donate? Go ahead and donate your time, that won’t cost you anything except a few hours of your time. You just may end up with a new furry friend, too. :) See someone abusing an animal? Step in! Or at the very least, call the police. Know about a secret dog-fighting ring? Call it in! You can always remain anonymous. Whatever you do, JUST DO SOMETHING.
As dramatic as it may sound, it has been proven time and time again that some of the world’s most notorious serial killers started young with abusing and killing animals. Oftentimes, they were victims of abuse themselves. How many animals, and later, humans, might still be alive had someone paid attention to how f-ed up Jeffrey Dahmer was when he was just a kid? And those are just the ones we KNOW about. Feeling a little nauseous now? You should be. I know I am.
But then you have people like this. People like Eddie Alvarez who travel to the Everglades every day in an attempt to rescue poor animals who have been dumped there by uncaring, stupid people, who think nothing of the pythons, alligators, and any number of other various predators that call this giant swamp home.
I’m going to get down off my soapbox now and leave you with this thought. How we treat “lower” life forms is a reflection of who we are and what we consider important. For a girl who grew up afraid of dogs and now can’t imagine ever living without them, that’s a big deal. A REALLY big deal. So take a moment and think – what does your opinion of animals say about you?
Enjoy the ride.
Have you ever witnessed animal abuse? What did you do about it? Do you agree how we treat animals is a reflection upon us? What do/would you do to help save an animal?
Ever have one of those
days weeks when you start out with the best of intentions and everything just goes to total dog poop? Welcome to my life this week.
It started out great with a pretty awesome 7 mile run on Sunday. I got the dupa up early enough to avoid the nasty, sticky mess that has been the setting for my weekends runs lately, and headed out into blessed shade and slightly cooler temps. After beating my goal time, I came home, threw on my snazzy new compression socks, and proceeded to do nothing except eat a nice, healthy lunch and sport this awesome-sauce look.
A few hours later, my left knee started feeling a little achy. I ignored it and off to bed I went. Then I woke up Monday morning and DUHN DUHN DUHN (insert dramatic music here), the other knee decided the first one was lonely and decided to get on the achy train too.
So thinking that after all my aches and knee pain that I may have gained just a pixie dust amount of runner smarts – and with some objective advice from the hubs – I bowed out of my scheduled run and stuck to the dreaded foam roller, IT band exercises, ice, and some muscle stim, in the hopes of getting things right again in my world. Alas, these stupid, friggin’, frog-flipping, insert any number of colorful language terms here – knees refused to cooperate and it just simply was not meant to be. I woke up again on Tuesday with that blasted achiness. I think my face probably looked somewhat similar to this.
Being the concerned hubs that he is, instead of going to the gym, he suggested hitting the pool instead. Now I’m far from a good swimmer, but after 20 minutes of lap work, both my head and my legs felt considerably better. I knew come Wednesday I’d be ready to hit the pavement again. Until my LIFE decided to get in the way.
That’s when I took a step back, reminded myself to breathe, and in the immortal words of Elsa, just let it go. If there is one thing us runners sometimes have a hard time figuring out, is once in a while, life IS going to get in the way and eff everything up. Miles won’t get run, weights won’t get lifted, crunches won’t get crunched. And it’s all OKAY. Sometimes you just gotta be fluid. Like melty Jello-O.
Life throws enough crap at us so there’s no point in getting all worked up over the crap you can’t control. Like people running late, bluetooths that keep disconnecting you, and certain little black dogs burping their fish dinner pleasantly in your face.
So the next time you find yourself about to go postal over what is probably something REALLY stupid, take that step back for a second. And breathe. And if you still want to kick someone after that, knock yourself out. Or someone else. Whatever flattens your ears.
Enjoy the ride.
Do you get stressed out when life gets in the way of your training or do you just go with the flow?
…and I haven’t kicked anybody. Yet. I’m actually quite encouraged!
Six months ago I decided to bite the bullet and join a gym. Again. My history with fitness centers hasn’t always been, shall we say, the most pleasant. I have an extremely low tolerance for sweat hogs who don’t wipe down machines after generously leaving bodily fluids all over them, social butterflies who think everyone within a 12 foot radius wants to hear all about what a big, fat jackwad their boyfriend is, and dupa dumpers – the sad, poor souls who come in, dump their dupa on a machine, and proceed to spend more time staring at the ceiling instead of actually DOING something.
I can honestly say that after umpteen visits, the desperate need to just go up and kick somebody in the head – HARD – has only occurred a handful of times. (I have shown amazing restraint in this area and think my efforts should be handsomely rewarded with a freezerful of Moose Tracks and unlimited margaritas. Just sayin’). I’ve actually spent many an amused hour trying not to laugh hysterically at the hormones with feet, (you know, high school kids), trying so hard not check out the girls who have less on than, well, this.
All in all, getting back on the weights has been pretty positive. I don’t think I’ve lost any weight, but that wasn’t the reason I headed back over to the dark side. I was long, long, LONG overdue for cross-training and needed to try to find some way to get rid of this blasted ITBS. I’m still not sure if it’s working, thanks to some delayed knee pain after my 7 miler yesterday, but I’m still hopeful. Plus I still haven’t given up hope on one day looking like her.
Enjoy the ride.
Do you find yourself wanting to kick someone in the head when you’re at the gym? Easily irritated by dupa dumpers? How do YOU deal with it?
Rest and recovery. Two words that may not register with the most diehard of runners. Not a problem for this Black Dog.
If there is one thing that running for more years than I can remember has taught me – HONOR THY REST DAY. A lot of practice – and colds – has proven that if I push my running to more than 3 or 4 days max, then I am bound to get sick or injured. It’s also inevitable that if I add too much mileage too soon, then Little Miss You-Know-What shows up too.
As I was web-surfing looking for some credible information on the benefits of a little R&R, I came across this article from Runner’s World, (because who wouldn’t love just about anything found in the holy book of running?) One of my favorite parts advised runners should get as much sleep as possible, 10-12 hours a night if possible. And…NAPS! Oh sweet manna from the heavens! FINALLY a justifiable reason for my weekend snoozefests with the Wonder Mutt!
The Black Dog Nap Time Happy Dance was short-lived though, when it was also recommended to foam roll. EVERY. DAMN. DAY. Oh the humanity! To say the love/hate relationship I have with my foam roller leans heavily to the hate side is putting it mildly. I believe I’ve actually seen the hubby cover Calypso’s ears when I’m in the midst of said self-torture.
Ever hit that sweet spot along your IT band when all of a sudden everything just…shifts? In the name of all that is holy, what the crap IS that?!? It’s like all of a sudden my tendons just turned into Silly Putty that some little ankle biting monster kid decided to stretch and mush and beat to a pulp before shoving it in his mouth to chew it into submission. Before of course spitting it back out again to see if you really can mush it into the Sunday comics and pull up the pictures. Quite the image, isn’t it?
Thankfully, that creep-me-out-wtf-IS-that feeling is quickly forgotten with a good dose of pigeons and cows. No no no, not THOSE pigeons and cows. These guys…
Just like on race day, every one has their own way of getting through the rest and recovery days. My non-expert, I’m-not-really-a-runner-I-just-play-one-on-TV advice? Do what works for you. Honor the rest day, and let the body that works so hard for you get a day off once in awhile. You just may be surprised how much it thanks you later on.
As far as the third R? Did you REALLY have to ask?
Enjoy the ride.
Do you honor the rest day? What do you do to allow your body to recover, especially after a hard workout? Are ‘ritas an integral part of your recovery program?
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