1 year ago
Monday, April 11, 2011
Moving Day
Mike and I have decided to have a "family blog." So most of my posts from now on will be here: http://www.macpfisters.blogspot.com/. See you there!
Monday, April 4, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Garmin
I have had a Garmin a long time but I just barely bothered to figure out how to use the online features. The following is my half marathon. Except something went wrong and it somehow recorded and extra 22 hours so ignore the total time and only pay attention to the moving time. If you are really bored and want to "View Details" you can see me gradually giving up and letting my blisters and chaffed bits get the better of me. Also, please note the extra 1700 calories I burned. Believe me I replaced all of those with pizza and french fries.
Moving Time: 02:41:39
Average Speed: 12:09 min/mi
Moving Time: 02:41:39
Average Speed: 12:09 min/mi
Monday, March 28, 2011
Our Half
We ran, hiked and ate (a lot). It was a beautiful trip to Moab. The best part was taking a vaca with all my favs. My second favorite part was finding out more than anyone should know about how and where my buddies had chaffed. Just part of the 13.1 miles of fun.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
a bit about running
If you are a really fast runner, please avert your eyes from this post.
I am not a fast runner. In some circles, what I do is not even called running. But I am training for a half marathon and had a bit of a breakthrough the last few weeks. We have been consistently running at about 12:30 per mile. We were doing that whether it was a 4 mile run or a 10 mile run (actually we averaged 12:38 on the 10 miler). But for some reason on our 11 mile run, we dropped our average by 48 seconds per mile. Then today on our 12 mile run we dropped another 9 seconds.
I think it is probably more mental than anything but I am very proud of us because are so speedy these days.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Skype Christmas
This year we were not all able to be in Logan so we had a Skype Christmas. It was totally hilarious. This is the family photo we took. It wasn't the same as being there but I am still grateful and amazed by the fancy things our little computers can do.
We got to spend in-person Christmas with Mike's family and had a great time. Lucky us.
Monday, November 22, 2010
It Was An Accident
“Here we go. It is happening,” Mike said to me as the car skidded off the interstate and down the 100 plus foot embankment.
The roads were slick and we had spent the whole drive tense with fear that the car would skid.
Tumbling down the hill reminded me of Alice falling down the rabbit hole. There was no pain and, even though I knew we might die, I most vividly remember watching random Tupperware, shoes, water bottles, and candy wrappers spin around us with the rotation of the car.
It must have been noisy. The sounds of breaking glass and crunching metal must have echoed through the sage brush and disturbed the watching horses.
I only remember silence and the sound of my own voice chanting “we are okay.”
The car slowed and stopped. I asked Mike if he was in fact “okay.” He was. I looked around wondering how to get out of the car. Then it started again.
We rolled a couple or a couple hundred more times.
We stopped again. This time it felt solid and final. Again, I asked Mike if he was okay. He did not respond immediately. I shouted and startled him into responding. We inspected ourselves and confirmed that we were miraculously intact.
I opened my door, without even appreciating that it was a miracle that it opened, and looked around. The car had settled onto the driver’s side against a barbed wire fence. We were at the bottom of a steep embankment. We could not see the cars passing on the interstate above. They could not see us. Nobody stopped, nobody called 911.
Mike found a phone and made the call. I scrambled to the top of the hill grasping sage brush when I lost my footing. Suddenly, inexplicably, I was in a huge hurry. Mike fell behind me talking to 911. He mentioned that he was not sure where we were. Now I had my purpose. Once back on the interstate, I sprinted toward the nearest exit sign. In the thick blizzard, I had a long way to run before I could make out the exit number. I got it—121.
I turned to head back. A couple of cars stopped to offer assistance to the girl in the hot pink puffy vest frantically running alone along the interstate. I waved them each away. I got back to Mike and breathless told him the exit number. He smiled and hugged me. He was no longer on the phone; he had regained his bearings long before and the police were on their way.
As Mike headed back down the hill to get our coats, I doubled over sobbing. Down the hill, Mike was crying as well.
Once we were safe at home again, we held each other and wondered how we could ever want to go anywhere or do anything besides just sit safely together.
This Thanksgiving I am thankful for the same things I am thankful for each year--my family, our health and Mike--but this year there is something more earnest and passionate in my gratitude. I hope it never takes rolling my car to make me appreciate my blessings again.
The roads were slick and we had spent the whole drive tense with fear that the car would skid.
Tumbling down the hill reminded me of Alice falling down the rabbit hole. There was no pain and, even though I knew we might die, I most vividly remember watching random Tupperware, shoes, water bottles, and candy wrappers spin around us with the rotation of the car.
It must have been noisy. The sounds of breaking glass and crunching metal must have echoed through the sage brush and disturbed the watching horses.
I only remember silence and the sound of my own voice chanting “we are okay.”
The car slowed and stopped. I asked Mike if he was in fact “okay.” He was. I looked around wondering how to get out of the car. Then it started again.
We rolled a couple or a couple hundred more times.
We stopped again. This time it felt solid and final. Again, I asked Mike if he was okay. He did not respond immediately. I shouted and startled him into responding. We inspected ourselves and confirmed that we were miraculously intact.
I opened my door, without even appreciating that it was a miracle that it opened, and looked around. The car had settled onto the driver’s side against a barbed wire fence. We were at the bottom of a steep embankment. We could not see the cars passing on the interstate above. They could not see us. Nobody stopped, nobody called 911.
Mike found a phone and made the call. I scrambled to the top of the hill grasping sage brush when I lost my footing. Suddenly, inexplicably, I was in a huge hurry. Mike fell behind me talking to 911. He mentioned that he was not sure where we were. Now I had my purpose. Once back on the interstate, I sprinted toward the nearest exit sign. In the thick blizzard, I had a long way to run before I could make out the exit number. I got it—121.
I turned to head back. A couple of cars stopped to offer assistance to the girl in the hot pink puffy vest frantically running alone along the interstate. I waved them each away. I got back to Mike and breathless told him the exit number. He smiled and hugged me. He was no longer on the phone; he had regained his bearings long before and the police were on their way.
As Mike headed back down the hill to get our coats, I doubled over sobbing. Down the hill, Mike was crying as well.
Once we were safe at home again, we held each other and wondered how we could ever want to go anywhere or do anything besides just sit safely together.
This Thanksgiving I am thankful for the same things I am thankful for each year--my family, our health and Mike--but this year there is something more earnest and passionate in my gratitude. I hope it never takes rolling my car to make me appreciate my blessings again.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
