New Tech, Better Runs

NewTechFor my birthday, which happens to be tomorrow, my husband purchased me a Garmin Forerunner 220 and a Mio. The Forerunner 220 replaces my first GPS watch, which was a Nike+ SportWatch. The Nike watch served me well for several years, but a few weeks ago, the USB connector started to act wonky and then up and failed. Since I have been more consistently running this year, I thought it might be wise to graduate to a Garmin. It’s pretty amazing what kind of technology you can get now – the quick GPS linking (it knows where the satellites are!), syncing with my iPhone, syncing with Strava, and the best yet: syncing with the Mio!

Never heard of Mio? It’s a heart rate monitor for your WRIST! For me, I loathed wearing the chest strap heart rate monitors. They always rubbed my skin raw – and it was uncomfortable under compression sports bras. Just not a good mix. The Mio, on the other hand (literally), is a wrist band. My favorite feature is that is flashes different colors based on my heart rate zone. If I’m not watching the HR on the Garmin, I can glance at the Mio to know whether I need to slow down or speed up. The comfort outweighs everything, though, and will be very helpful when cross training.

While this isn’t a super technical review of everything either device can do, I’m not a “super user” of either device, nor am I an extreme athlete. I consider myself more of the everyday runner – someone out for fitness, fun, and doing something with my time. So, my reviews reflect what is important to me. If a reader stumbles across this blog and has questions, I’ll be more than happy to answer any comments.



Sometimes, the same path the led you away also leads you home.

I have returned.

Did your heart grow fonder?

It’s been over a month since I last wholeheartedly documented anything going on in my life, let alone commented about the political quagmire we find ourselves in here in the United States or pathetic grammar usage on the part of others. So, what have I been doing then?

Well, what have I not been doing?

I have¬† been working my little tail off selling¬†a service we all use. I have¬†been trying to make that little tail of mine even smaller though step classes. I have¬†been throwing myself into novels written for teenage girls, or “ten year olds,” as Dave puts it. I have¬† been avoiding wedding planning because I cannot stand to think about how much a wedding costs. I have¬†been sleeping in on Saturday mornings. I have been cooking dinner. I have been dining out with Dave. I have been taking Aries to the vet because she refuses to cease butt licking.

Even now, I am writing this at a Panera location in Norman, Oklahoma. I am avoiding the misty, horrible-for-my hair rain that is falling outside. I am tired and even a little caffination in the form of my favorite tea РEarl Grey Рserves little as a pick me up. I just want to go home and curl up under the covers and read Eclipse. Oh yes, even I have fallen victim to the Twilight, but the mailman who delivered my box set yesterday set me off on the chain reaction from hell.

Grammar Lesson

I am aggravated by the misuse of certain words, so I want to clarify them with the audience.

1. Hence means “for this reason.”

2. Therefore means “for this reason.” It is usually used in Mathematics.


3. Thus means “in this way.”


SO (most commonly used), thus is NEITHER interchangeable with hence NOR therefore.

Stop acting like they are!

I’m TNT, I’m dynomite

My fitness goals are not where I want them to be, and not for lack of effort. Except for last week, which was a wash, because Dave was sick, and, really, I had no excuse, but I stayed home with him anyway. Motivation central right here, dontcha know. This week Dave and I plan to get back on the treadmills. I am sort of disappointed with myself over last week, too; I was really starting to see improvements in my speed and pacing.

However, I don’t feel that it is enough to just join a gym, work out on a regular schedule, and eat healthier (which I already do – we’re whole grain and low-fat HQ in this apartment). Hence, I’m considering joining Team in Training (TNT). It is an organization that benefits the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. They offer coaches for marathons, half marathons, walks, triathalons, and road racing. In turn, you raise money for the society in order to participate in an event, and then you also Patient Honoree, a person whose life has been affected by blood cancer.¬†

Because I love philanthropic events ranging from the MS road races to Habitat for Humanity, I think the opportunity to train and run with Team in Training is my kind of way to both get in shape physically, but also benefit another person. It’s like Abraham Lincoln said, “It’s not the years in your life. It’s the life in your years.”¬†

I am excited to hear from TNT, and I am hoping to train for a half marathon (16 miles!) to start.

Six, now 14

I am still baffled by the media circus that surrounds the baby factory named Nadya Suleman. This also applies to Jon, Kate, and the crazies in Arkansas with the last name Duggars. Regardless of what kind of power or being you answer to, your output to society does not equal your input. Not one deserves the attention spectacle that has followed the aforementioned families, and they certainly do not deserve the handouts, promotions, and huge paychecks that followed their exploitation of their children.

Dave and I constantly discuss our future plans for children. Dave wants only one, but I want two. It will be a contentious issue until Baby #1 is born into this world, and then we’ll see who really wins the bid. But my point is this: our argument on the number of children to bear is born out of the fear of how to provide for those children. Dave fears we will not be able to provide enough attention or resources to more than one child, and I disagree. For two 26 year-old adults, we live a rather nice life. Nicer than any other person my age (that I can recall).

This is not to brag, but to prove a point. If one of the struggles we tackle everyday is the future speculation of our resources and provisions to ensure a good life to at most two children, I cannot imagine how a woman with 14 children intends to provide for them without government assistance, as she claims she will not need to accept. In one year I alone make more than the average American household, and Dave makes at least twice what I do, and we worry about whether or not we can afford these children with our own money. This woman has got to be fucking kidding me if she thinks I have one ounce of sympathy for her.

And you know what? I do not. I also believe that children services should be knocking on her mother’s door and removing the children from her household. I also believe that the doctor responsible for this blasphemy should be required to front the funds for their birth and subsequent raising. By his hands and her craziness, there are fourteen children who cannot be cared for by one person.

I hope she finds this blog, or any like it, and experiences a moment of reflection. I hope she reaches deep inside herself to find out why she lied to her mother about her disability checks, the plastic surgery, the well-manicured nails, and the insatiable appetite for bringing children into this world, children for whom she will not be able to solely provide. I hope she understands the widespread pain and anger many people will experience due to her poor, unethical choices. I hope the doctor that performed these IVFs is shamed out of his profession. I hope the media is ashamed of the foam at their mouths as they outstretched millions for interviews, photos, and ghost-written novels about the trials and tribulations of a clown car vagina, whose owner I am no longer sure knows how to drive the car.

And I am ashamed that every one of us, even me, is giving this situation another punce of spotlight. It is time to dethrone the baby-crazed families, God speaking to them or not, and regain some sense of morality and ethics when it comes to the responsibility of another human’s life. It is not right or fair to showcase the innocent life of a child born to a greedy parent, and it is certainly shameful to shower the greedy with exactly what they want: money, money, money.