Sometimes in order to be heard, you have to be loud.
One thing you should know about the Gannoe (and now a Shoemaker) girls is that we are fiercely loyal to each other. When one is hurt or upset, you better believe the others will be too. (Unless, of course, one sister is upset because another sister tattled to mom and dad on her, then we simply roll our eyes. But for the most part, we've pretty much moved on from that stage.)
My sisters and I all have our strengths, and we all have our Read more [...] Sisters
Sometimes in order to be heard, you have to be loud.
One thing you should know about the Gannoe (and now a Shoemaker) girls is that we are fiercely loyal to each other. When one is hurt or upset, you better believe the others will be too. (Unless, of course, one sister is upset because another sister tattled to mom and dad on her, then we simply roll our eyes. But for the most part, we've pretty much moved on from that stage.)
My sisters and I all have our strengths, and we all have our Read more [...] 
Because I neglected to post regularly this past week, I'll cram everything into Sunday. Here are a bunch of random facts and "interneteresting" (according to the urban dictionary, it is word) topics I feel the need to discuss:
Miles I Ran This Week: 13.1. This week also marked day #14 of the run streak. As I mentioned in "The Great Streaking Experiment", the Holiday run streak seems to be taking a huge toll on my mileage. Despite running every day, I'm running less every week. Regardless, 
Confession time.
I often encounter people who are seeking fitness advice that tell me they are hesitant to go to the gym because they don't want anyone to watch them. They feel awkward, they feel uncomfortable, and worst of all, they feel like they are going to be judged. Judged by their size, judged by their lack of fitness, judged by their novice status. And every time, I assure these people that they will not be watched nor judged, because the truth is, everyone else is too self absorbed 
It's that time of year again. The good people at Runner's World have challenged us to a Holiday running "streak", giving runner's across the great world wide web something new to argue about (don't you love the internet?). For those of you who may have never heard of it, the Holiday Run Streak rules are pretty simple: according to Runner's World, you must run at least one mile per day from Thanksgiving through New Years Day. Walking doesn't count, the elliptical doesn't count, it's 
Oh, the Turkey Trot. The tradition of runners across this great Nation lining up bright and early Thanksgiving morning to burn off a few hundred calories before they sit down to gluttonously consume a few thousand. I truly feel that the running community is a family; even if we've never met before, we are related by our running tights and GPS watches rather than physical DNA. And this tradition of spending time with my running family, before spending time with my more traditional family, 
Seven years ago I couldn't imagine that one day MySpace would be replaced by Facebook, never mind the fact that running would become such a significant part of my life. Seven years ago, I was delirious due to lack of sleep; just trying to keep my eyes open and figure out this new mom role with an almost two month old baby. Because of all of the above reasons, I couldn't tell you the actual date when I became a runner. (I'm sure I recorded it somewhere on MySpace...)
In other words "Sorry 
A few months ago I received a press release stating that Newton Running was going to be releasing an all terrain/ trail shoe. I was immediately skeptical. Newton shoes are known for the lug/sensor plate under the forefoot that allows for greater neuromuscular enhancement (ground feel/awareness), and promotes a mid to forefoot strike and faster foot strike turnover. Having spent the majority of the last year running almost exclusively on trails, I am entirely too familiar of how little it 
What is the opposite of love at first sight? Whatever you call it, that's the sort of relationship the treadmill and I are working on.
You see, whenever I step on a treadmill, I have every intention of running for at least an hour. It seems like an adequate number; if I'm going to run in the comfort of a warm, dry, indoor gym, I should at least serve my penance of an hours worth of miles. (Runner's weird like this.)
Yet every time I start running on a treadmill, without fail, I throw my plans 
I have a lot of hair. "A lot" is actually an understatement; that beast on top of my head has a mind of it's own. Ever since I was little, hairdressers would eye my head with trepidation as they instructed my mother that in the future, I would require an hour appointment instead of the usual 30 minutes. As I got older, the hair only got thicker. Utterly out of control is the best way to describe it the years I was on prenatal vitamins, and I've been able to donate to various organizations, 
