Spidatter: Travel Guest Post!

While our girl Ami is coasting through life on a far better continent,
can someone please explain to me why NASA hasn’t gotten its shit together yet and invented teleportation…?
Because then I’d be hereโ€”

Positano, Italy
Amalfi Coast, Italy
Amalfi Coast, Italy
Amalfi Coast, Italy
Amalfi Coast, Italy
Positano, Italy
Positano, Italy
Erica, the best (and craziest ๐Ÿ™‚ traveling companion known to man…and my happy little self.
I’d also probably weight 20 pounds more than I do now, thanks to the absolutely ridiculous pesto and Limoncello options…ย  Life is SO hard!
Flash we hop you are having the absolute best time. Don’t work out too much.
ย 
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Guest Post! Maddie from Spidatter

Hello, hello! I’m Maddie from Spidatter (which is in no way a fitness blog, but I promise it’s still cool).




Ami’s allowing me to ramble on about my experiences with fitness while she’s galavanting in California. Thanks, Ami ๐Ÿ™‚


Let’s talk about me and running. Not to worry…this won’t be a rant about the 10k I’m training for (because I’m not), nor about how much I just love love love to wake up at 5am and get a few miles in before work (because I don’t).
It’s a relationship that never really got off the ground, unfortunately. I’m not sure what the deal breaker was. Maybe it was all of those forced jog-a-thon fundraisers in Kindergarten (which I walked), or the “running of the dreaded mile” in third grade (which I also walked…in the snow), or perhaps it was all of those laps we did in PE in fifth grade…in our plaid, pleated uniform dresses. The man in the picture was our PE “coach.”


That’s me in the white sailor blouse. Adorable.


While the above memories all feed into my broken relationship with the track, the moment in my running history that truly highlights my athletic demise (and also doubles as an oft-repeated family anecdote) was the mile I had to run for physical fitness testing in junior high.
Junior high was a nightmare in and of itself, from which I’m still debriefing. And then at the end of the day, they made you run. We had these super cute red PE shirts we had to wear that had Santa Barbara Christian School printed on them. And all of the girls who needed sports bras were anti- wearing them (I was in that category)…while the girls with nothing to cover would wear them just for “fun.”


Side note: Perhaps some of you have heard me reference my “childhood best friend” from time to time…Katy [Hudson] Perry…? We were a year apart at Santa Barbara Christian School in junior high. I have this distinct memory of us changing for PE in the girls’ bathroom, wherein she lifted up her PE shirt to show not one, but two bras on, claiming, “My boobs are so big, I have to wear two bras at once!” So just to set the record straight, I wasn’t the girl she kissed, but she did flash me in junior high.


So there I am running the mile on a beat-up field full of gopher holes and puddles, and near lap four, I glance around and realize that I am one of only two people left still running. And the other girl is about to cross the finish line. And I am behind her. AND SHE IS WEARING A BACK BRACE. If that doesn’t scream, “Give up already! You are not a runner!” to an already insecure 13-year-old girl, I don’t what does…




Now I’m 25, and I just this last year began to mend my broken bond with running. It started with a trip to Lululemon and the purchase of this bra. I had foolishly sworn off this store previously as over-priced and over-zealous, created for the people who do yoga up to three times a day. And then I found myself all but drowning in a social circle of Lululemon believers and testimonies. So I ventured into the store – petrified, mind you – and bought this tank and the aforementioned sports bra. Which is solid as a rock…and yet bizarrely comfortable. And now I run. At least every other day. Not impressively fast, and not amazingly far – but that’s still running. And Lord help me if I don’t get my money’s worth out of that $50 sports bra and burn some major calories in the process.


I doubt they’d ever quote this in Fitness Magazine, but sometimes looking fantastic and spending unholy amounts of $$$ on athletic attire is by far the best motivation to sweat. Whatever it takes, right Ami?
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