So, let's drop the "w" word...

Weight. 

Weight loss sucks.

Weight gain sucks.

Weight is kind of just is a bitch in general.

Whether you strive for some number on the scale or strive to maintain some number on the scale, you know what I'm talking about. There is such an emphasis on being an ideal weight or having the ideal BMI (which I have more problems with than I care to bring up at this point) in order to attain optimal health that- wait for it- people forget to behave in ways that are actually healthy! My freshman year of high school, I crash-dieted, exercised, and lost 30 pounds in a month. A month!! Well guess what happened. Slowly (but surely), I gained every damn pound back, plus thirty more. I ate and exercised in a way that was depriving my body of what it needed and put myself in a completely horrible position because I was so focused on a certain weight, because I perceived it to be "healthy". So fast forward to the end of my high school career, and I was suffering greatly and was far less healthy than I had been to begin with, all because I wanted a number. Well, dear readers, here's an idea that has taken me years to understand and may seem rather counterproductive, but stay with me...

WEIGHT. DOESN'T. MATTER

Now, this is by no means me trying to justify anything to anyone. I'm done with justification and all of the shit associated with it. My head is out from under the covers and I'm dealing with the consequences of my unhealthy behaviors in an extremely healthy and active manner. As a result, I'm in better shape than I have ever been in my entire life. Yesterday, for example, was probably the best run I've had thus far. With the exception of stopping briefly after the first mile to stretch the extremely taut, tense muscles in my calves, I felt amazing. I never thought I would be able to say this, but I actually forgot that I was running. Let me throw that one out there one more time, just because it's that big of a deal. I forgot that I was running. And after Tuesday's disappointing run, I really needed to hit one out of the park. I did. And it was amazing. I'm running, doing Yoga, teaching Zumba, doing Pilates, doing all sorts of physical activity. I'm using a combination of my dietician's recommendations and Weight Watchers guidelines in order to provide my body with adequate calories and nutrients in order to fuel it in my activities. I am, by far, the healthiest I've ever been. And, as a natural result of this, my body is adjusting itself and I am losing weight that my body has, through my active lifestyle, deemed unnecessary and I am gaining muscle that my body needs in order to endure the workouts that I am so enjoying. I have lost 23 pounds, and I still have weight to lose, but I'm not focusing on the number. The number is merely a reflection of my efforts, not a reflection how I feel about myself or what I think that I am capable of. I mentioned to a friend that Weight Watchers' "ideal weight" for me would be completely unattainable because of the amount of muscle I have and my body fat percentage, I would have to not only lose all of my body fat, but muscle as well... That ain't gon HOPPEN!! I am more than okay with being a little heavier and still having my guns. In response to this (what I thought was a rather obvious point) she said not to limit myself because I could work hard and achieve any number I wanted. After staring blankly into space for approximately a week trying to figure out a way to respond to that without asking "GIRL IS YOU CRAZY?", I realized that her mentality is the exact reason why women try to conform to what our society says is beautiful... BECAUSE WE BELIEVE IT TOO! Society has us convinced that skinny is beautiful and that the only way we can do what we want to do, be who we want to be, and live the kind of live we want to live is to be skinny. Well girls, I have some news (and society, you can go jump off a bridge if you don't like it):

Healthy is the new skinny, the new beautiful, and the new happy. 

PS: If you're into it, please pray for Sara Ann and her family, who recently lost a beloved mother/grandmother/great-grandmother. 

What Training Really Looks Like...

We were tired (as usual) , so we hopped on the empty display couch in Target and stayed for a good 20 minutes. Feel free to attempt on your own, but we're not responsible for any team huddles you may happen upon or any actions taken against you. Nap with caution, soldiers, nap with caution.

Well you see what had happened was...

There was this war in Greece a very, very, very long time ago. As a part of this war, a battle was fought in this handy little place called Marathon and, since the Spartan ninjas were fighting, Greece won. And, since the Greeks were impatient little bitches who couldn't wait for word to spread like normal people, they insisted that some unlucky guy named Pheidippides run his happy ass all the way from Marathon to Athens, only to say "hey, we won!!" and then die. A while later, somebody decided to retrace his steps and design a footrace after his path. While most normal people would acknowledge that- given the choice of a 22 mile or a 26 mile route- Pheidippides would have chosen the shorter route, apparently some serious, hardcore running person decided that a 22 mile route was ENTIRELY too short, and a 26 mile route still didn't seem worth his time. Alas, the 26.2 mile long marathon was born.

Fast forward about 2500 years, and here Sara Ann and I are, chugging along with bodies protesting and our sanity questioned as we take the next eleven months to prepare for one of the most strenuous activities that we'll ever endure. We went running last night at about 5:30 PM, while it was dark and while it was cold, not because we had to, but because we wanted to. Because our legs were tense and uncomfortable after a day of (what most people would consider) average use. Our bodies are adapting to the increasing amounts of stress and pressure we're exposing them to, and it's one of the most amazing things I've ever done. With every run and every meal and every nonrunning workout our bodies are becoming more and more like those of marathoners and we in turn are becoming more responsive to their needs. My arms, for one, are getting to be freaking beastly. I, Savanna, have guns. My tummy is getting smaller by the day, which means my abs are closer to being defined. There is soreness coming from places that I didn't even realize could be sore, but it's absolutely the best kind of sore you can possibly imagine. And there's the hunger. I'm happy to report that (after a visit with Hendrix's dietician), Sara Ann and I are hungry because- despite our efforts to eat all the damn time and still make healthy choices- we're not eating enough. By about 1000 calories. That's a LOT of food!! We're gradually trying to add in more healthy options, but there are sometimes that I say to hell with healthy and eat what sounds good. What's absolutely crazy though, is that when I ate a piece of my friend Ethan's peppermint bark, it made me sick to my stomach... Yuck. I am more than ecstatic to report, however, that the french toast I had for dinner was delicious and the sugar-free syrup agreed with my new ninja-dom. Any time that I can eat french toast and ranch dressing and french fries and a multitude of deliciousities and still lose weight is a time that I will be happy with. It's that diet plan that's gonna get me through tomorrow when I have yoga, a run, and then teach Zumba in a consecutive three hour period. Clif Bars (and the thought of indulgences), please don't fail me now!!

PS: An extra fabulous shoutout to my high school friends Haley and Emily, who most definitely made my night!! Thank you guys so much for your support! You have no idea how much it means and how the thought of reactions like that make it a little easier to keep running even when you're pretty sure the muscles in your calves are gonna stage a violent protest 3/4 of the way through a run!

"So the first person to do this died??"

So this isn't exactly a post, but this is hilarious. Enjoy! A new (real) post will come soon!!!

Dorm Sweet Dorm?

Besides all of the running that I've been doing, I also moved back into my dorm; while it's not a legitimate reason, it's why I haven't updated. PS, Fam: Love you and miss you guys already :)

So, if you glance to the right to that little box entitled "Miling Towards Disney World" you will see that I have run thirty miles since I started training. Thirty. Freaking. Miles. I've run a marathon and some. Now, that's wonderful and I'm not complaining in the slightest, but it's taken me a month to run this far. A MONTH. I only have a few hours to run it for real! It's definitely a scary, scary thought. I keep telling myself that this month was to get me into shape and that it'll get easier, and I hope my body's listening to me. I'm okay with my brain knowing what's coming, I'm just scared that if my legs know then they'll shut down like my little brother did when we tried to make him eat his veggies. The muscles will tense up and tell me that it hurts for them to move and that they realllllly don't want to move anymore and that they'll stay there until I do something to distract (or for those of us familiar with Tracay, discract) them from the misery they're suffering. OH HEY, WAIT A SECOND... They're doing that already!!! They already hurt, and I'm pretty sure if it wasn't for the fact that the muscles in the rest of my body outnumber the muscles in my legs and my willpower outlasts their resistance efforts, they would have already pooped out. But so long as the BioFreeze and Advil hold out, I think I can distract (discract) them long enough for my next run.

In addition to my muscles congregating rather angrily in most of my body, I am the hungriest I have ever been in my entire life. It's ridiculous. I could probably eat more than any of my brothers. I eat breakfast. I run. I eat again. I do yoga. I eat lunch. I sleep. I eat again. I teach Zumba. I eat dinner. I eat again. I eat again again. And honestly, I'm still hungry when I go to sleep. I was still hungry last night, but I was already up in my bed (which is, I'm sorry to say, about five and a half feet off of the ground. My left thigh has evidence that it's NOT fun to fall out of) and I didn't feel like getting down again. I'm trying to eat as healthily and as often as possible, but sometimes I feel like mother nature is trying to fatten me up so that, if I were to collapse on a run, she could use me to feed a family of woodsy type creatures. Which is why I run on the streets and legitimate trails and (ugh) dreadmills, so that those little woodsy bitches can't snatch me up. It ain't gon' HAPPEN!

One of the perks about being in college is that Hendrix has a dietitian (and coaches and marathoners) on campus that will work with Sara Ann and I for free while we're doing this. We're meeting with the dietitian on Thursday to see if there's something I can do about satisfying my hunger in a more productive, efficient way. Also, Hendrix will give us the opportunity to apply to receive funding for our pilgrimage to Disney World next January to run the marathon via the Odyssey Program. Our running is a "special project" and will allow us to dip our toes into the field of sports medicine while also serving as (rather badass, ninja-like) ambassadors for our school at the marathon itself. We'll wear Hendrix garb and basically act as walking billboards while we're down there. I'm completely okay with that. Plus it gives us accountability beyond each other, because on days like this (where it's noon and Sara Ann is still sound, sound asleep) and we need to run, I have Odyssey on my side :)

Embrace:Me

When a woman sits down to watch a television show, she is bombarded with commercials that advertise products that promise to help you lose a pound an hour, be able to train for and run a marathon in a month, and make your face look as taut and youthful as a newborn's. Among these magical cures is the Special K Diet, which a fellow blogger and runner has debunked and is fighting to eradicate. In addition to her movement to banish the Special K "Diet", she has also started a movement entitled "Embrace:ME". She boldly announced and acknowledged her flaws and, through this acknowledgement, is learning to embrace them. So, Emilie (whom I do not personally know and whose message has already reached Arkansas), here's my story.

(my big camera is in my dorm, but you get the idea)

Okay, so here's me, 23 pounds down from my starting point in August. While I still have a way to go, I'm definitely content with where I am. I have big hips, plenty of junk in the trunk, "thunder" thighs, and calves that won't fit in normal boots. But those parts are gonna power me through the next 800+ miles and my marathon next year. Beyond that, those hips will help me have babies one day. Those "thunder" thighs are what allows me to teach Zumba. Those calves look damn good in high heels. I've never had a Carmen Electra tummy, and if by the grace of God my ab muscles are ever defined, it will have been through hours and hours and hours of hard work. But, hey, I'm okay with that. Part of my ultimate acceptance of whatever my body decided to throw at me was my tattoo. It says "make your own luck" in my mom's handwriting... You have to make your own luck and make your own happiness, and that involves loving, accepting, and embracing every single part of yourself.

Yes, I plan on losing a little more weight. Yes, I plan on running a marathon.  Hell, I'm probably going to run more than one. But, you know what, I'm loving myself now, so that when I'm in marathon shape and have the best stomach of my life, I'm gonna enjoy it as a reflection of my hard work. I will also have the confident knowledge now and then that, no matter how old I am or how my body looks, I'm a wonderful, caring, loving, beautiful person. That's what counts.

Po' Lil' Tink Tink...

So, while Katt Williams is streaming via Netflix, I shall share the wondrous tales of the runs of the past few days.* I really don't have a purpose for that asterisk, but I learned today that that it's pronounced ass-tah-RISK, not ass-tah-RICK. Just thought I should share that little fun fact and blow your mind. 'Cause it totally blew mine.

Anyway, after my Louisiana adventure, I resumed my normal running schedule on Thursday. Being the good little gym bunny that I am, I decided to take the Total Body Conditioning class after I got home. I get my happy ass up at (the horribly early hour of) 11:00 AM, get to the gym, and wait for 20 minutes only to be rather cheerfully informed that the TBC class had been taken outside so that- wait for it- they could run. WHAT THE HELL? I figured that I should go ahead and work out since I was already there... Cue the dreadfully somber music that should naturally fill your head when you even think the words "treadmill workout". I hereby move to rename the treadmill "Dreadmill", because that's the only feeling those damn things evoke. Dread. For the immense boredom that's about to happen. I also lifted some weights, and after all my Zumba With Weights (NOT Toning!!), my arms are looking pretty freaking fantastic. The best part, though, was that the vast majority of people at the gym were resolutioners, so my measly mile and a half dreadmill workout looked like Jeff Galloway himself had traipsed into the Little Rock Athletic Club.

Speaking of New Years Resolutions, I would like to clarify now that this marathon isn't just a resolution. This is a decision that I made in November to fulfill a dream that I've had for quite a while. Yes, this blog  was started on January 1st, but that was just a coincidence, I promise!! The main purpose of this little piece of fabulousity is to chronicle my journey from shitshow to marathon.  Not that I have a problem with resolutioners; work it out, babe! However, please know that I don't expect to see 95% of you next to me in Yoga class in March. It's not about resolutions, it's about a lifestyle change. It sucks. I know it does. But then something happens, and you go running over the Big Dam Bridge and you don't only run over it, you run back. You run two miles and you realize that, hey, this is pretty damn cool.

So yeah, I ran over the Big Dam Bridge. And then turned around and ran back. I felt pretty freaking accomplished, if I do say so myself. Especially considering that there's a 5% incline going up both sides. It doesn't seem like much, but hop on a dreadmill at 5% incline and pop that sucker at about 5.5 MPH. You know what's gonna happen? Your gluteus to the maximus is gonna need BioFreeze. Mine did. A lot. But hey, I'm training for a marathon, and a little soreness isn't gonna stop me!

The Hogs may have lost the Sugar Bowl…

But that didn’t stop me from running! Nor did my extended stay in New Orleans, partially due to overconsumption of, among other delicious treats (including the best bread pudding I have ever tasted), Café du Monde’s magnificent, fabulous, should-be-illegal-they-taste-so-good beignets and what would have happened if I had neglected ze running.  (For those of you who don’t have the slightest clue what a beignet is, it’s a square piece of doughy deliciousness that is then fried [doughnut-style] and completely blanketed with powdered sugar. The frying and sugar aren’t exactly part of the running diet, but it’s a form of bread, and bread equals carbs. I promised there would be no carb left behind, and I intend on sticking to that!) That's not even the best part; despite the dessert and fried deliciousnesses, I did not gain a pound!!

Beyond that, I am happy to report that I did run both full days I was there, despite the janky treadmills and, oh yeah, THE FREAKING HUMIDITY. Don’t underestimate its power. Just don’t. It probably didn’t help that the treadmills were in the same room as the pool, either. On the second day, I had the bright idea to run up and down the 20 flights of stairs in the building, because hey, the humidity would be lower, and there was no way in hell that I was running in the streets. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I just happen to come equipped with a sense of self-preservation. So I walk out of my room, into the stairwell, and promptly turned around and went to the janky treadmill. Yeah that sense of self-preservation I mentioned? It kicked in once I realized that, as a young white female tourist, me being alone in that stairwell was about as smart as me setting up a hammock in the middle of a deserted back alley. So I endured perhaps one of the dullest, most humid treadmill workouts in the history of ever. 

That boing treadmill workout did serve a purpose, though. All of this running in one spot is really making me appreciate the outdoor running-to-get-somewhere running. I really wish my neighborhood had more soft paths, rather than just streets and hard paths... My knees still have about 875 miles to endure, and I need to do everything I can to keep them healthy, so I need to use treadmills and soft paths to help reduce impact. Hard paths and roads are the only thing near me, and the only soft trail I know of is pretty far away. Plus, the whole "driving to a place where I can run" thing kind of befuddles me. I imagine I'll break down eventually and do it (I mean, I do have a Twitter now), but it's gonna take a little more boredom and a little less cold for that one to happen. 

So yeah, I'm running a marathon...

A full marathon. 

26.2 miles.

Plus almost 600 miles of training. 

That's me, on my feet, chugging along from Nashville, TN to Washington D.C. Oh yeah, I'm running a half marathon, too. Add about 300 miles of running. Almost 900 miles... Of running.


I guess I should probably mention this... I hate running. Well, I did. Savanna as of August 2010 hated running. She would run if someone with an axe was chasing her. But this is Savanna as of December 2010 and she's training for a marathon. No wait, she's ENJOYING training for a marathon. And the fact that carbs are pretty much a must-have. The Liz Gilbert in me is eating, praying, loving, and running and not planning on leaving a single damn carb behind.


This enjoyment may have to do with the fact that today, despite the cold, I ran two miles, including the most obnoxious hill in my neighborhood. I may or may not have cried a little because I was freezing and no matter how much I ran I was still cold and that stupid hill seemed like it would never end. But I didn't stop. I didn't call my mom to come get me, even though I reallllllly wanted to. Because I have a marathon to run. And it's against the rules for mommies to come save you. And I'm pretty sure my partner-in-crime Sara Ann isn't going to be in any state to drag me along. 


So I keep mentioning a marathon... But which marathon, you ask? The Disney World Marathon. Because the most hellacious, strenuous, and exhausting 26.2 miles of my life should take place in the happiest place on Earth, right? And because the princess in me giggles just thinking about running through Cinderella Castle.


But for now, my treadmill and neighborhood will have to do. Accompanied by copious amounts of Advil and BioFreeze.