BOOM (<--my classroom word of the week), see the proof. I'm sitting on my couch after devouring some shameful calories. What am I not doing? Conquering the world. Needless to say, last week was one of the busiest weeks I've had while Reuben has been gone. But man oh man, some goals, one being adult-lifelong, have been conquered. Oh wait...interruption...
Someone just got selfie jealous...let's continue...
I am proud to say that on the weekend of January 24-26, I went to Newark, New Jersey to complete my training to be a certified WeightWatchers Leader!!! Ding ding ding ding ding!!! Ring the bells! Sound the drums! Toot a horn or whatever it is you do to a horn!! Do you know how huge that is??? I'll tell you! That's years of sweating, measuring, counting, running, pushing, tugging, bruising, choosing, crying, doubting, going, thinking, striving, falling, believing, talking, lifting, praying, squeezing, binging, hating, dancing, lacing, squatting, listening, sharing, motivating, hurting, encouraging, surrendering, and any other applicable verb that ends with ing. Seriously, this was a dream I've had for a long time. Those who've known me through my 20's know that I'm obsessed. It didn't take long for my new coworkers in La to learn that it's always on my mind. Their jaws dropped today when they saw me eat a stuffed baked potato during lunch because I always eat a salad. One of them announced that a certain hot place must have just froze over because she couldn't believe her eyes. (It's a good thing they don't see what I do when no one is looking.) I'm the one who evokes confessions from people; I can't help it. Since I have that effect, what better place is there for me than to be in front of a meeting room? That's right, my name is Abigail Newton, and I'm your WeightWatchers leader.
How was New Jersey you might ask? I don't know. But I can tell you that I had a blast going into Manhattan on Saturday night. How blessed am I to have had a student from Highlands actually want to hang out with me when I contacted her saying I was close by? This amazing girl now teaches in New York and was more than willing to show me around.
The picture on the left was taken following her class' graduation celebration in 2008. The one on the right was taken a little less than two weeks ago. I love her dearly and am so proud of the woman she is. Thank you, Sally, for taking me out and feeling comfortable enough to call me by my first name. If you ever come down for a visit, I can introduce you to the exciting practice of watching the grass grow. It's peaceful and appreciated.
Fast forward one week to the weekend of February 1-2 when I ran The New Orleans Rock and Roll Marathon (marathon numero deux). Woot, woot!
Now, I use the word ran interchangeably with the word survived. This particular marathon was not easy, but the event was incredible. I just checked my phone for this awesome picture I took before the race started. The start line arch was up but slightly covered by fog, thousands of people could be seen in the front corals, and it was a perfect shot taken from someone who is 5'1. It got deleted! Kick myself.
However, this guy was there. He was running the half marathon, and he had beers in his fuel belt. He also blew that black horn you see in his hand incessantly. You know you're good when you can show up to a race with alcohol and a lung challenging bugle. He took off, and I never saw him again.
I shared some illegal marathon pictures on my FB page, and you know what it made me realize? I'm all about sharing pictures that show me at my worst. I do not look like a supermodel on a given day more or less during a 26 mile haul, so yeah, I'm okay with my nostril pictures. I saw one, though, that reminded me of something, and then a light bulb went off...
I LOOK LIKE THE CONFESSION BEAR.
My picture is a little pixelated because I blew it up, but that, ladies and gents, is my face. Can you believe that girl actually got someone to marry her? In my illegal picture album, there isn't a single picture that makes me look happy, competent, athletic, or prepared, but I promise you all that I did train for this!
This isn't the same as above, so my face is slightly less Confession Bear.
I look like I want to sit right there in the rain.
But I tell ya, at mile 19, I was ready to call it quits. My right knee was killing me, and I swore that my left toe was trying to remove itself from my body. This might sound stupid, but I think my joints hurt worse this time because I was running so slowly. It took twenty minutes to finish the first mile because of all the people. My pace was considerably slower because the number of runners, which I thought was going to be a great copout for not beating my previous time. Nope, it ended up just hurting, but I did it.
When I got home, I was really nervous about two things: my toe and my hair. Now, you can kind of see in the above pictures that my hair was in a ponytail. This is what it was when I made it home.
It took a lot of conditioner and a lot of patience, but the world's biggest dreadlock did get tamed.
So the time came where I had to take off my shoe to inspect the toe damage; it didn't look near as badly as it felt...and still feels.
It's hard to tell because I haven't painted my toes and my feet are just ugly in a wide Flinstone kind of way, but you can see the wrongful color settling in on my baby toe. The picture really doesn't do it justice. Now, my little left toe nail is dark blue/black.
That split you see on the bottom wraps all the way around to the inside of the toe where there is absolutely no skin. I've been limping all week. I feel like a dork.
All in all, that was a crazy, busy week. One weekend I'm in Manhattan wishing so badly that SJP Carrie Bradshaw was real, and the next weekend I'm running...trotting...dragging...limping around New Orleans. This weekend = couch. God is good!
I want to take a minute and thank everyone for making this following picture possible:
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!!
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