Stop! Ahead...it's a Bear/ Dog!

I have always been afraid of being attacked by a bear while out running. Some people are more worry-warts than others. I am freaked out about my child being abducted or abused, I am panicked by unseen health issues and I am sure that my loathing for snakes means I will absolutely be bit by a rattlesnake at some point. But I digress, back to the bear... I have pictured my mauling in many different scenarios ranging from surprise attack, to the confrontation where I try to fight the bear head on, to the almost-got-away-oops-no-I-didn't death. I have a vivid imagination and clearly I have used most of my talent for planning how to handle the vast array of bear attacks (along with all the horrific things I mentioned above) I would face in my life as a runner. My husband has always responded with a roll of his eyes. It isn't that he doesn't believe that a bear attack could happen, it's that he thinks tweaking about the very rare occurrence of one maybe possibly happening as a waste of time. Well one of us will be prepared and the other...well, the other will be saying his wife was right as he inhales the putrid smell of a bear's breath and bleeds to death on a trail.

After all these years of running, I have never seen a bear. I hear stories of them coming down into our sleepy little mountain town, others have had actual encounters, but me? No, my defense skills continue to go untested. I started to think my husband might be right and I could stop clenching the bear spray in my fist as I jogged, I could relax a bit and simply enjoy my surroundings, but then last fall a friend was walking near her house and was charged by a bear! She was left shaken and deeply grateful to her dogs who jumped between her and the ragging bear. She now has PTSD from this experience. Then a few weeks ago as my parents were hiking in the woods, my mom saw a bear cut across the path. My mom's sighting sent her sprinting to the car. My dad on the other hand curiously looked for the bear and then determined that it must have been a dog...as if my mom was daft enough not to be able to tell the difference between a bear and a dog. Clearly that saying "a daughter will grow up to marry a man like her father" is true, these two men obviously don't take bear attacks seriously enough.

Then it happened. A runner running a Marathon in an area we know well, where my husband and his brother ran their 1st Marathon, was attacked by a bear. Luckily she is OK. The runner is OK, the mother bear who was protecting her cubs is decidedly NOT OK.

Life is no joke. We run through it blissfully unaware until we are attacked by the unimaginable. Maybe it's better that way, maybe it's better to have a plan of defense, both could be argued. But I feel validated for having been freaked out over bear attacks because they do happen! So you can roll your eyes along with my husband or act like the fears are as benign as someone's pet dog like my dad, but I am going to go buy more bear spray, encourage my friend with PTSD to venture out again, applaud my mom for her sprinting skills and raise a glass in cheers to the runner that survived a bear attack.

I wonder if this runner who was attacked had a defense plan. Is this why she survived? I think I may need to call her and ask for advice.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Green With Envy

You know what is interesting? The feeling of jealousy that comes with NOT working out.  Watching/ hearing about other people working out makes me sick. It doesn't help that Facebook has memory notifications that alert me to the fact that I haven't always been a lazy ass, it highlights the deliciously cruel workouts that pushed me to be in better shape, get the PR at the next race, be in a good mood...only now it all makes me mad.

I haven't been able to run or workout due to some health issues (that is a whole different story) and now I feel trapped in the inability to do so. Trapped in a body that refuses to do what I want. And then, adding insult to injury, we sponsored the Taos Marathon and watched toned, athletic forms strut into the Tasting Room and trade in the prizes we'd showered on winners with obnoxious glee. A jealous twitch took over my right eyelid and seems to be permanent. The usual enthusiasm for fellow runners was traded for a sour sarcastic statement of how I'd be getting back at it soon. But the truth is that I don't know when that is going to be.

We take simple things for granted, the ability to get up and go to our jobs, our ability to go workout or for a run, the ability just to feel good. The deep irritation at the realization of how much I have taken for granted feels as if it is tinting my skin green.

Clearly all I can do is to pour a glass of wine and ponder how I will be different when I am feeling better.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Unmanageable

Fueled by Vivác use to mean something much different. Four years ago I ran my first full Marathon in Napa, it was Fueled by so much more than just Vivác... it was Fueled by the whole Napa Valley; I love me some Napa wines! But now my Fueling looks so different. 

Getting up in the morning chasing after the kiddo, work work work and more work only to finish, come home and have to clean, do laundry and cook dinner oh yes and be a wife and mom! That's when I really need to start Fueling. There's no way to possibly Fuel enough at the end of a day. I realized that I'm running on fumes. But now I'm too tired and I need to just go to bed. The next day it starts all over again. I am being Fueled by irritability and coffee and my precious wine has (gasp) become a once in a while treat. Clearly I will be going to Hell for this. 

That's when I hit bottom. I realized my life was unmanageable without proper Fueling. Why are we living lives that are so out of balance? Where is the time to stop and smell the Rosé (FYI Rosé is different than blush, it is a pink wine that gets its color from the grape skins, maintains great acidity with fuller fruit notes than many white wines)? How is it that when we were on food stamps and starting our winery, starting our family, we were LESS stressed? Was it that we made sure to Fuel more? Those late nights spent at the kitchen table, talking for hours with my husband have been swapped for lists of errands the other can do the next day. Somehow the shift happened and left us in the dust... parched. 

But life is not over...despite the fact that we have been shoved into our 40's (ok actually only my husband is 40, but I'm close), we don't have to let the world of "To Do's" knock us off course. We can regain our will to properly Fuel once again and save our souls from the depths of a wineless world. 

I'll just need a gallon of water, 6 Ibuprofen and 3 days to recover.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.vivacwinery.com

Top 10...For The Lazy

TOP 10 SPRING TIME EXCUSES FOR RUNNING

allergies are horrible

it is deceptively cold out

the wind is horrible

the mud has made all trails a disaster

I might be catching a cold

I just got over a cold

my warm running clothes don't fit

oops I planned another meeting during running time

I think I hear my phone ringing

there is wine I need to be drinking


I'm pretty sure I used all of these this past week...but the last one is my fave.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

The Dark Side

It has been an intense month or so since I last blogged...and published it. I lost someone who I loved and admired. I had, since I was a child, felt a part of his family as I grew up with his kids. I'd spent holidays laughing with him and his family, weddings, babies and everyday happenings filled the years...and then suddenly he was gone. It was crushing for me, but down right demolishing for my pseudo siblings. The experience was very difficult to say the least. I will spare you a long drawn out explanation of the weeks that have passed and get into the present and the reason you actually read this thing (thank you so much for doing so)...FUELING!

During hard times, working out seems like a complete joke. Yet, with time and distance, the distraction and exertion becomes welcome. Even for a self proclaimed lazy person such as myself, a workout of some sort needed to happen.

OK, let's clarify, obviously I never stopped "Fueling" because...we own a winery for one, wine is mourning's best friend, and lastly...my body might shut down if I did something so rash as to stop drinking.

Now back to my story. A few short runs in, I decided I might be part sloth. My running just gets slower each time I return to it! Since I am easily discouraged, and with my hormones raging (because it seems I am also going through very early menopause...or hell, I can't tell which) I decided a softer approach was needed. Yoga, yes yoga is going to be better.

Some of you may remember a somewhat recent blog about my experience with stinky yoga, so let me explain to you guys...I am SO lazy that returning to the packed room full of smelly people seemed like more of a possibility than running. See? Part sloth.

When you are unmotivated, depressed and have hormones raging, it is no surprise that your clothes may start shrinking on you. My workout clothes seem to have decided that they belong to my child because they gripped my fat in ways most unpleasant. As I wiggled into various yoga contortions, the said clothing rolled into rubber bands of pain. Various parts of my body became sausaged into bulging sections with each new position. I tried to quietly tug at the various scraps of cloth, hoping they would stretch to encompass the embarrassing naked skin now revealed to the world, but the more I tugged, the more I brought attention to myself and distracted the very serious yogis around me.

To add insult to injury (literally), the old lady in-front of me started farting. Not once, but every few minutes she just let it rip. I'm sure you are thinking to yourself that I should have simply moved my mat out of the current of her ass, but these classes are literally packed with extreme garlic eaters and do gooders so my only option would have been going to the front and center of the room...in my new rubber band fat revealing fun suit. I decided face full of fart was better than THAT misery.

All I can say is that that one hour yoga glass deserved a full dose of Fueling.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com

Mind Over...Junk Food

You all thought I'd disappeared didn't you? Surprisingly I am still here and have actually started my mandated "5 Day Fitness" week...or whatever G.I.Jane is calling it. Last week was the warm up and I actually tried to eat right and workout regularly. Yes, all the football watching over the weekend resulted in tatter tots and sausage cheese balls, but instead of eating an unlimted number, I actually counted out a portion and stuck to that. You have no idea how hard that was. I also went skiing a couple days in a row in deep powder. I decided that was enough to reward myself with time on the sofa...nursing the muscles I have discovered in my butt from skiing. I mean really? I'm sore THERE?

Yesterday was Day 1 of the real deal. Maybe it was knowing that the time was here to buckle down that sent me off the edge. Like a little girl I melted into a temper-tantrum over going to the gym. The bitter cold of the day had me daydreaming of excessive carbs and a warm blanket. Green chile cheese burgers, donuts and a beer. I don't eat wheat so you can see how these items are a sign of complete psychosis. It was an incredibly tough day.

But, I did it. I ran on the treadmill AND did the crossfit inspired exercises prescribed. I went to work at my favorite cafe and I skipped over the gluten free quinoa cookies I love (no really they are amazing!) and opted for the quinoa salad instead. At dinner I skipped the cheddar cheese I love and had a healthy version of chicken tacos (thank God for salsa). By 10:04pm I was STARVING, but sent myself to bed. It was difficult, but doable.

Day 2 is underway, my workout is looming and I am dreading it, but I actually was excited about my tuna salad creation at lunch. Surely this means I'm moving in the right direction right?

Either that, or the fantasy that I get to eat that green chile cheese burger at the end of these 5 days is my secret motivation.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!

Knowing When to Ask For Help

I've decided that since I have zero motivation and even less willpower, I need professional help. I decided to call in the big guns, my friend Bridget who says her profession is as a personal trainer/ nutritionist, but I am pretty sure she is actually G.I. Jane.

Immediately my friend jumped into action and sent me a daily workout detail and meal plans. She had to send it to me because she lives a safe distance away (6 hours)  in Las Cruces, New Mexico. This woman's body is waaaaayyyy too intimidating to have her train me in person. My cellulite would cry and tremble with despair simply having her in the same room.

I have to admit, I am a wee bit scared...but as you all know from reading this blog over the years, I only seem to accomplish my goals when I am fearing for my life. So, I have been working out (I'm in prep for the scary week next week) and I actually ate tuna fish seasoned with jalapeno, lime juice and pepper, with a side of cucumber slices and carrots. This may sound normal to some of you, but for those that know me well, they will be shocked by this information. The only thing I hate more than tuna fish, is vegetables. Shhhhh... don't tell my son, because I make him eat vegetables. I don't make him eat tuna fish because he literally throws up when he tastes the texture of meat and fish... and I have to clean that up. I should mention that I might, however, actually have a serious allergy to working out, we are looking into it. I feel like I may need extra wine to choke this all down. Oh yes, she is letting me keep my wine. She might be scary in shape, but I am a monster if someone tries to step between me and my wine (imagine the mom saving her baby by lifting the car...only that would be me getting to my wine).

So there you have it, G.I. Jane and I are going to tackle this project and separate my butt from my thighs.

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com