This was my view tonight as our big episode finally aired. For the most part, feedback via social media outlets was positive. However, we did get some nasty comments about our Spanish-speaking employees. There are some truly appalling, ignorant people out there who apparently have nothing better to do than post racist comments on Facebook and Twitter. (Side note: Have you ever noticed that the people who post the meanest, most ridiculous rants online are also the people who can't spell worth crap? Dear ignorant bastards: There is a difference between "than" and "then.")
Thankfully, for every horrible person, there are many more who are sane -- and are willing to join the conversation. To these people: Thank you. You make my life much happier. Because even though I can respond with insight about our employees and our hiring process, it's the community -- the non-company people -- who give that message extra power.
This is pretty much the biggest thing I've ever tackled as a PR girl. The show has been a long time coming, and the process has been exciting and exhausting and crazy. As the airdate gets closer and closer, I've become slightly more and more insane (but in a good way, not a psycho way -- like a lovable nut who just happens to have a phone constantly glued to her head and responds to e-mail at all hours and eats meals in front of a computer). I've been juggling TV requests, radio requests, media preview screenings, journalists who have broken embargoes (seriously), crisis communications plans -- the list goes on and on.
How I survive: Cycling. Remember the group of co-workers who invited me to join them? I joined. And I have to say it feels so good to get away from the office and ride out into the country (which is so green right now from the recent rain -- imagine pastures dotted with gnarled oaks, mossy limbs shading cattle and goats and the occasional emu -- yes, emu) and forget the madness for awhile. Yes, I'm still incredibly out of shape and very nearly got dropped during Tuesday's ride, but I'm still enjoying myself. And my co-workers are great coaches -- I learn something every time we go out. (For example, how to use the word "drop" and sound like a cyclist.)
And for the record: I haven't stopped running. I've just had to ease back into it after my nasty cold and the never-ending cough that followed. The hacking is finally gone, and I've run twice this week. I feel like I'm back at square one when it comes to building base mileage, but I don't want to rush anything -- the goal is to stay injury-free.
I did get a funny surprise today, though. Perhaps you recall the horrific 5K I ran on New Year's Day. Yes, the one where I almost threw up because I ate too much cheese the night before. Apparently, I won my age group.
Rode 31 miles on Saturday, and the route included Chalk Hill. And guess what? I didn't fall once. Not one single time. Even in traffic. With multiple stoplights and stopsigns.
Yes.
Added bonus: I got a lot of compliments on my socks from other cyclists in pelotons that were riding by. (Effortlessly passing me as I huffed and puffed my way up Chalk Hill. Man, I am so out of shape it's not even funny.)
Perhaps you've wondered why several days have passed since my last post, especially since I was being so good about updating regularly.
Short explanation: I've been sick.
Long (slightly insane yet absolutely factual) explanation: I'm being tortured by cats. Yes. Truly. For example, last weekend, the neighborhood cat vomited all over the front porch.
(I know you are really excited that I actually took a photo of cat puke. I bet you are clapping your hands and jumping up and down.)
Also, Mari has decided she needs to eat in the middle of the night or she will die. (Apparently with cats, everything is very dramatic.) At first, she'd wake up and meow for food at 4:30 a.m. -- which was not so bad since sometimes I get up this early to go to the gym anyway. (There is a class I like called Xtreme Muscle -- which clearly is really extreme since they've left off the "e" in the name. Unfortunately, many other people also like this class, so to ensure I don't have to stand at the front of the room -- which is so embarrassing since my actual muscles are nowhere near extreme -- I have to get there really early.)
But back to the hunger. The 4:30 yowling soon became 3:15 a.m. And then this morning, Mari took "midnight snack" to all new levels and started yelling at –- wait for it –- 2:15 a.m.
WTF.
As a result, I can't remember the last time I got more than five hours of sleep.
And when I'm consistently sleep-deprived and stressed out, due to the Big TV Show at work, and attempting to get back on a training schedule (um, Vineman in six months!), I get sick.
Since my raise-your-leg-like-a-peeing-dog move is not quite ready for public consumption (I need, oh, maybe five gin gimlets before I can really shine), I went pole-dancing instead at Christina's brand-spanking-new studio. (Yes, I know this isn't anywhere nearly as sexy as shaking it in the dirt behind a parked car, but it's the best I could do tonight. And no, you won't see a video. Sorry.)
Why I love my friends: Because when a pole-dancing studio comes up for sale, they are brave enough to say "Why the hell not?" and buy it. Congrats to Christina and cheers to her new business venture.
And may we all have the courage to climb to the top.
Remember all of the filming I was working on awhile back? It's all coming together now, and the airdate is around the corner. Exciting stuff, but so much juggling and planning involved.
It started so well. We were falling in love. She reminded me of when I was a little kid and spent afternoons riding (back then, a beach cruiser with bears wearing sunglasses painted on the frame). I learned the definition of the word "Wheee!" all over again.
But the last two rides have been crappy -- it's like I have completely regressed with the clip-ins. Starting is fine. Riding is great and so much fun. (Hills -- I actually like hills!) But when I stop, it's a disaster. Dear bike: You might be a sadist.
Which brings me to my current anxiety: There's a group of people at work who ride on their lunch break, and they invited me to join them. The truth is, I'm kind of scared to do it. It's one thing to fall in front of your friends and another to eat shit in front of co-workers.
I know where I'll be in November. Fingers crossed I don't get injured again, especially since race policies have changed, and runners are now only allowed to defer once. So if I don't make it to the starting line this year, I'm pretty much out of luck.
My plan for staying healthy? Lots of cross-training. And no back-to-back races like last year. (In fact, I already have my events schedule mapped out, with A, B and C priorities noted. But more on that in a future post.) I'm also all about the preventative care -- I'm continuing my weekly Pilates reformer sessions, as well as chiro and massage therapy once a month.
Because this is going to be a big year.
In addition to New York, I'm also registered for this insanity:
That's right. A half Ironman: 1.2 miles of swimming, 56 miles of cycling and a 13.1-mile run.
Let's not forget that I've only ever done one triathlon, and the swim looked like this:
Notice how everyone else is swimming, and I am just standing there. (The upside: At least I was not the person who was clinging to the buoy later in the race. At least there is that.)
But I'm telling myself I have six months to train. I can do it.
Even if I am totally out of shape right now and actually sore from yesterday's 5K. Dear god, it's a long road ahead.
Stuffing my face with Brillat Savarin last night was a terrible idea. The cheese hangover is a vicious beast: Crazy cramps and a strong urge to either puke or crap my pants 2.5 miles in. (This was then followed by even more cramping and actual pooping -- thankfully, not in my pants -- for hours post-race.)
I do not ever want to be one of those parents who makes my 9-year-old child run a 5K with me and then hounds him the entire time, yelling out Garmin stats and statements such as "You're running too slow!" or "You need an 8-minute mile!" Meanwhile, the poor kid looks like he's suffering from -- you guessed it -- a cheese hangover.
A 5K is hard because it feels like an all-out sprint for 3.1 miles. Which, when coupled with the cheese hangover and the fact that I am ridiculously out of shape (I was gasping for breath and getting passed by people running with their dogs -- awesome), is its own special kind of torture.
Despite the morning's challenges, my Garmin said I finished in 27:30, with an 8:54 average pace. Splits:
Mile 1 8:43
Mile 2 9:03
Mile 3 8:59
497 feet at an 8:06 pace
At least I know what I have to work on in the coming months. Hello, 2012.
