I have fairly fine hair. Blessed with a widow's peak and two cowlicks up front, the 80's in particular were a terrible time for me (I was never able to get that tall bang thing going). For the longest time, I prided myself on being a "wash and wear" kind of girl. No product, no styling - and sadly, no pizazz. But hey - at least I wasn't one of "those girls". You know the type - they take forever to get ready in the morning, their significant others waiting impatiently at the front door, tapping their feet and getting aggravated. Not me. Low-maintenance to a fault (I hear you laughing. You can stop now).

And then I met Kristan. Ah, Kristan, how I adore thee. For the first time in my adult life, I have great hair. Many of you don't realize it, as you only see me gross and sweaty - but I have an amazing haircut, and I'm damned cute to boot. Ah, who am I kidding? I'm downright hot.... If you have a penchant for short, muscular girls with piston legs and a healthy amount of "junk in the trunk" :)

But, I digress. The point is that my amazing haircut would be nothing without hairspray. Once I broke down and realized that the widows peak and those cowlicks weren't going anywhere, and that I needed help to achieve the style I wanted, a whole new world opened up to me. A world where people daily compliment my hair. A world where I don't feel the need to put my hair in a ponytail 10 minutes after I walk out the door. A world of good hair days.

OK, so now that I've told you all about how hot I am, and how I've got a great tush and amazing hair, you probably want to know what this has to do with grits, guts and gumption......well, here's the thing. It has everything to do with it. I would still be fighting with my hair, constantly searching for that perfect cut/color/etc. if I had never admitted that I needed help. Help. Help in the form of the once vilified hairspray. Don't worry, I don't use aerosol...too much a child of the 80's for that (although I hear that it's no longer the kind that kills the ozone...). Just A Spritz. Help.

How many areas of life do we struggle with, never opening ourselves up to the possibility that we might just need a little help? Just a little spritz might make a big difference. It might mean the difference between a 4 hour marathon and a 3:50. Or perhaps it's that fine line between stringing two double-unders together, and doing a set of 10. For some, maybe it's even the difference between planning and doing.

So as I sit here on my adorable tush, with my enviable coif - I open myself up for help. Help budgeting my time so that I can achieve everything I want to do, without sacrificing the things I have to do (I miss being a mileage whore). Help setting goals for the upcoming months so that I have a purpose, a driving force behind my physical activities. Help nailing down the optimum way to fuel my machine. Help in becoming the monster I know I can be, the athlete I desperately want to be.

I'm just looking for the right bottle of hairpsray.


  1. Ahh yes the ever present balancing the time. I'm not NEAR as busy as you, but I can relate a little bit.

    Okay not much help, but sympathy.

    and BTW you are beautiful, both inside and out!

    Hope all is well in your corner of the country!

  2. Time is the currency we exspend to purchase success.
    Happy new year.



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