Sea Salted Bee: Athletics...

Ahhh, athletics. While I've always considered myself sporty, I haven't always considered myself a 'real athlete'. I don't do beast mode and there aren't MVP trophies collecting dust in my parent's attic. Competitiveness is not in my nature (blame being an only-child). I excel at team-work, spirit and support, which doesn't win medals. I never resented those who did, or felt slighted. It just wasn't me. And NO, I'm definitely not a supporter of the "every kid gets a trophy" culture...

As a kid I played soccer and was on the YMCA swim team. By the time I finished high school, I was a 3-sport athlete, defense for NCDS soccer, ice hockey and lacrosse teams. Since I knew I'd never be a Middlebury Varsity caliber athlete, I went out for JV teams instead. I played for the love of playing.

And how could I not love playing? The sweat, the hard work and grass-stains. Practicing day-in and day-out with your team. That glorious moment when your team gets the ball in the back of an opponent's net. IT IS PURE JOY!

As an adult I've dabbled in running. My very first race was a marathon (no big deal, right?). I signed up as part of a team with old friends. But, the team was sprawled out along the Eastern Seaboard. After about a month of watching me half-ass training, my best friend intervened, fearing I wouldn't finish the race if left to my own devices. She became my teammate, and a really great runner. She held me accountable and pushed me to properly train for this behemoth race. You know what....it worked! It made me tougher, and it made our friendship so much stronger. It made me feel like an athlete, it was exhilarating. I wouldn't trade a single step of our sub-zero 15+ mile runs in waist-deep snow for anything in the world. While we kept up weekly runs for years afterward, moving 982-miles away has now made our weekly runs impossible. To be honest, I've run a LOT LESS the past 3 months because of it.

And here's the thing, while we're being so honest: 30 maybe the new 20, or whatever...but, when your metabolism slams on the brakes the morning after your 30th birthday, your appetite is still sucking down the donuts like you're 22 (total bummer). But you HAVE GOT TO KEEP MOVING...it's the only way to stay strong enough to carry the groceries up 3 flights of stairs....fast enough to keep up with the dog on the beach....energized enough for a night on-the-town following a 12 hr work day...and yes, small enough to fit into my size 27s.

So I get moving....I love stand-up paddle boarding, but doing so regularly is difficult living in the city. Hiking is another favorite, but hard to do when surrounded by prairie for 500 miles in all directions...Sorry Midwest, you're just not mountainous enough.

So, like every other 30-something living in the city, I try any and all forms of yuppied-up fitness crazes to stay fit. I've done weeks upon weeks of bikram, spin and pilates-reformer classes. I love them for all their Lulu-clad goodness and sweaty results. But there's nobody there to encourage me...or slap me when I savasana instead of chaturanga. That athletic exhilaration is nowhere to be found, and I am no good at meditation. What is a girl to do?

Well... I am signing up for another half-marathon with my best friend (NEWPORT 2014!). My first half in 4 years...so I HAVE to train to keep up with her (like I said, she's good). Ty will keep me honest, training 5 days a week together. I actually love running with him (despite his giant steps). It is an hour of no distractions- just us chatting. We also said good-bye to our diet downfalls so we can stay healthy....I'll miss you Cherry Garcia

We're only 10 days into this plan, and I already feel much better about myself. Sleeping soundly and waking energized and motivated. Plus, my shorts are starting to fit me again, BONUS! So what about that teenage notion of not being a "real athlete"? Bull-shit. I may never be a champ, the toughest, or the fastest...but when I get into a rhythm, and my breathing is heavy, sweat stinging my eyes, with enough left in me to sprint that last 100 yards to the finish...I feel just as real as any Olympian.