Facial, schmacial

Ok, so visit número dos to the salon was for facial time.  I was pretty excited.  I scheduled it for Saturday morning when I’m usually cleaning the house.  Instead of all that scrubbing, I left a ‘to do’ list for the kiddos and high tailed it put the door to be pampered.

When I got there, my esthetician, Sherri, took me back to a dimly lit room where soft music was playing and told me to take my clothes off.  WHOA Sherri, we just met and I don’t play that way!  (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 😉  I still  love Seinfeld!)  Now, I’ve had a few massages before and I know most people swear by them, but I can not do the whole get naked with a stranger while they rub on you thing.  It ain’t happening.  I think she read my panic and explained it was really only necessary from the shoulders down for the oils and lotions and such.  Ok, Sherri, but nothing in the swimsuit area, ok?

As the facial started, it was going fine.  I really liked the soft music and someone else pampering me for awhile.  I was beginning to think that I might make this a regular experience, clothes off and all…when it happened.  Sherri popped a zit on my face.  Hi, my name is Kerry, I’m 36, and my skin still breaks out occasionally.  I was hoping, like most of us, that zits would end with the rest of the awkward adolescent phases, but hell no, they have decided to stick around through adulthood just to mess with us.  It was a bad stress week at work and Nebraska humidity has hit full force, so those little pours are in full production mode.  Now, I get that Sherri probably does this daily, hell, hourly.  She works with the face, she knows better than anyone that zit happens, but I was mortified.

She finished the facial, and I got dressed.  As I exited the room to leave, she, politely, explained to me some products I could use for breakouts and thanked me for coming it. It was hard to look her in the eyes.  It was my own walk of shame.

Facial, schmacial….. I think I’ll just stick to the pedicures.  Has it been four weeks yet?

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This is what I do for fun

Call me crazy, but I run half marathons.  I actually really enjoy them.  I know, throw insults now.

I started running 20 years ago when I was a senior in high school.  (Crap, 20 years old…damn, I’m getting old.)  My dad ran.  It was something to do with him.  As I ran more, I found that I enjoy it.  It’s relaxing.  It clears the mind.  It frees your body of stress.

For years, I ran for exercise, to de-stress, nothing else.  Back in 2006, I had a friend who dropped a bunch of weight by working out and had gotten into running races.  She told me I should sign up for a half marathon with her.  I said, sure, why not.  I ran my first one in 2007 and have been hooked.  To date, I have ran 8.

Now I know what I’m going to say will should crazy, but running a half marathon is not about the running.  Bare with me while I explain this. Of course, you have to run and make sure your body can make it 13.1 miles, but the reality is, most bodies can do it.  I have seen and been passed by all body types, young, old, very old, thin, average, and heavy.  All people can run and do run.

Once you get the breathing and endurance thing down, it all becomes a mental game.  Can you push your mind to keep going?  I am living proof.  I trained well for the first one and did good.  I trained intensely for the next because I wanted a certain time.  The last six, I’ve just gone out and done.  I didn’t train the way some might have, but none of that mattered.  Some were ok, some sucked royally.  Some I ran, some I walked/ran.  I got up that morning, put on my shoes, started the race, and I finished.  And in the end, finishing is finishing.

I think that is why everyone gets medals at races, because it’s a personal battle with yourself.  It’s a mental game.  If it was just physical, only the winner would win.  In a foot race, everyone wins.  Because you made a commitment, because you pushed yourself, because you did it….. you win.