Sex, Love, and Marathoning


It is no secret at this point… I’ve got a marathon coming up in the next two weeks.  It will be my third.

Just like it is no secret at this point… I’m no virgin.  And to the hell with you if you think we are going to go any more personal with numbers.

In my experiences, I can’t help but compare the marathon to sex.  Maybe I suffer from constant perversion, maybe I have a sick view towards one or the other or both, but maybe I am onto something? Really though, it hurts so good… (I’m talking about the marathon, people!)


I have thought long and hard… Hee hee hee. (Wow...) Please. Excuse my excited mind…

But really, I have thought long and hard about altering my tone and shaping my blog into a more “family friendly” venue.  But a quick swig of beer was all it took to come to my proper senses. Carbonated and satiated, I said, “F*** IT.”

Let’s face it.  Marathoning is an adult topic.  There is absolutely no reason to waste my time and energy filtering my “f***s” to make this blog PG.

If you are at an age in which you have yet to wonder about your sexuality, and/or think about where said “thingy majiggy” goes, or what peg fits in your hole- PLEASE abort mission, click the X in the upper corner of your screen, and sign up for your local 5k for an innocent, age-appropriate “just the tip” sort of distance. You are too young to be marathoning, and you are too young to listen to 88% of the things that come out of my marathoning, running mouth.

Hopefully by now, the kids have left the room.  So let’s get started from the beginning.


First, let’s set the scene.  It was a rainy, overcast morning and the sun had yet to even peek its head above the horizon.  However, I was awake and moving around, my waif-like body aroused by intense waves of varying emotion and sensation.  Nervousness. Excitement. Doubt. Fear. Or  wait… Could it be? Confidence? No. Fear.

My legs quivered in response to my undulating mood, perhaps a statement to my brain indicating they understood I was actually about to go through with this.

In my younger years, great amounts of time were spent fantasizing about what the first time would be like.  In the moment, finally, I couldn’t complain that I was outdoors, half-naked, and breathing in the cool, salty air of the ocean.  Sex on the beach.

Carlsbad, California is where the action took place. January 2013.  I was 24.

It wasn’t the prettiest of things, but it wasn’t the ugliest either.  Of notable accomplishment, we got to the finish.  We got it done.  I even won. Glory in 2 hours and 42 minutes!

No one warned me about the bloody aftermath though…


Cherry Poppin’

I promise, it really was not as bad as it looks.


Perhaps maybe, I jumped the gun a bit on the marathon.  But all the finger f***ing bullshit just isn’t for me.

Cautionary advice by my peers and mentors always erred towards a more conservative approach whenever I brought up my pre-emptive thoughts on “going the distance.”

The “What-if’s” and the “Let’s make this perfect” sort of sentiments are nice for those that believe in a fairy-tale finish.  Many people wait their whole life for that moment, for a ring and white dress, or at least a bottle of wine and dinner date, only to be let down anyway.  I was never that girl.

A month prior to “go-time,” I had decided I was done waiting.  In rebellion, I told absolutely no one about my decision to take this thing on.  I was going to do this alone… because once you decide on something like this; you don’t want anyone talking you backwards.

Like a teenager sneaking Cosmo magazines into their room and believing glazed donuts were the secret to stellar performance, I was laboring over old Runner’s World magazines I had lying around for any kind of advice I could collect.  ”Make sure to breathe.”  ”How to get your pre-race protein.” “Avoid chafing with cream!”  Thank you, Runner’s World.

The news spread quickly upon intercourse… I mean conquering the Carlsbad Marathon race course.  My mother found out via Facebook.  As did many others.

It could have been better planned.  It could have been a better performance.  (As some may argue.)  However, I like the way it went down.  If anything, I see it as the perfect opportunity to move on, look ahead, and aim higher.

In the end, I enjoyed a Sierra Nevada beer, (or several), along with the normal clanking of bottles and cheer; “NO BABIES!” And hate it or love it; that is what I call a day’s success.


I returned home for a second try, to play the field (Lambeau Field) a bit over-zealous and over-confident.  Green Bay, Wisconsin. May 2013.

Went out too fast.  Too hard.  We got too hot and sweaty early on.  Miracles allowed us to finish, and come out on top with a slow finish of 2:47. That’s what happens I suppose.

I still enjoyed bananas and beer at the finish (although not so secretly wishing Aaron Rodgers would be there to “leigh me” with a victory wreath to top it off), but I knew there was room for improvement, and most importantly, I was done F***ing around.


If I was going to go through with this 26.2 again, I want to do it right, and I mean business.

The most crucial outcome of this race was both my parents, and even my Grandpa was there to witness my love firsthand, and from there, understand.  This will be my commitment for the next several years.  The marathon. Thumbs up from the “fam”! Bam!


You know when you get that tingly feeling?

I really do think this one is different.  I think this one is special… I have support. I have experience.  I have planned.  I have prepped.

Finally my inner clock indicates that it is time to take a swing at a larger target, and admit to myself, and everyone, that things are getting a bit more serious.

Coming up March 9th, I have committed and am lining up for the ASICS LA Marathon.  I am flying from my training grounds in Mammoth Lakes in one week, and packing a baggage full of goals more meaningful and heavier that just get ‘er done, and run.

This attempt has me working my way backwards and utilizing all my past experiences… starting at Dodger stadium “playing the field”, and making my way to Santa Monica for some “sex on the beach,” and most importantly, vying for a non-disputable “A Standard” Olympic Trials qualifying time of 2:37.

After a hot showing in Houston at the USA Half Marathon Champions this January, and a team and coach behind me, it is also important to prove I am better than just a “one night stand” at high level racing.


At this point, less than two weeks from go-time, all I can do is wait, be patient, and hope that the third time really is the charm come race day.

It is that “can’t sleep, can’t eat, reach for the stars, over the fence, world series kinda stuff” feeling.

Sounds like LOVE or something. Yuck.

What has become of me???!!!…. F***.

In closing, I hope you all are getting some. Whether it is sex, love, or marathoning, or all the above. Hope to be back with fast news. LOVE.