TWO MILES? BEGINNER'S STUFF.

Yesterday I ran two miles without stopping to walk and I'm still alive today to blog about it. I consider this a pretty big success, even if every person I passed on my run thought I looked like I was about to keel over and die (which is probably exactly what they were thinking).

This pretty much sums up my feelings exactly:

5K, schmive-K. I've got this... I think.

JUST KEEP RUNNING...

I'm five weeks into my 5K training and I'm still going strong! I started off dreading having to run for 90 seconds at a time, and now I'm running five minute intervals with no problem. That might not sound like anything to brag about to most people of minor athleticism, but it's pretty darn impressive to me.

My Week 5, Day 3 workout is scheduled for Thursday, and it includes a 2 mile (20 minute) jog with no walk breaks. Intimidating? Absolutely. But I'm also excited to see if I can do it. I WILL do it - because what's 20 minutes of jogging, really? Especially when this is the scenery on your route:

And when you have awesome all-black running shoes like these:

I'll post another 5K update in the next week or so with my progress - I can't believe I'm getting so close to the end of the 8 week program. Next challenge: running a 10K. Yikes!

THE CHARLIE STORY

This past Tuesday was the pup's unofficial 6 month birthday (only unofficial because we don't actually know his birthday), so I think it's time to tell the story of how Sir Charles Barkley came to be.

He always gives me this look when I take pictures of him - in my head he's saying, "Stop pointing that little box that flashes at me and making me sit still. This is stupid." 

It all started in about October 2011, when I somehow ended up browsing Petfinder.com at an exceptionally increased rate. I'd been living alone since August when my roommate and her dog (more on Orvis' antics later!) moved up to Michigan for work, and it was getting a little bit lonely in that big old apartment all by myself, especially now that it was getting dark so early. I knew I wasn't quite ready to get a dog, especially with the holidays coming up, but I was definitely entertaining the idea of one in the very near future. Fast forward to January 2012 - Dylan had moved back to NC from Florida in November and was (more or less) living with me at that point, and I had absolutely decided that I wanted a dog. By this time, the few dogs I had been keeping my eye on over the past months had already been adopted - one in particular was a flat coated retriever puppy named JoJo, who, incidentally, is now named Tanner and is in Charlie's dog training class with him. Small world, right? He lives with a great family with young kids, and I couldn't be happier for them.

Now let me tell you something - Petfinder.com is a great and terrible resource for people looking to adopt a pet. On one hand, it's incredibly easy to search for animals in your area. You even have the ability to customize your search by age, sex, or breed. On the other hand, these same features are a danger zone for an indecisive animal lover like me (who also has trouble saying no). I was able to narrow my search to young, male dogs for the most part, but that didn't stop me from having a list of 30+ dogs that I wanted to take home with me the very instant I saw them.

But one listing was different. The first time I came across it, the little white and red speckled puppy was listed only as "Pup 4" with one small picture and the description "I am a little sweetheart. I love to cuddle. I am a little boy about 8 weeks old." Almost all of the other dogs on my "list" were at small, no kill animal rescues and were usually being fostered at someone's house - but not this puppy. He was listed at Person County Animal  Control, a kill shelter about an hour from where I lived. The minute that I saw him I knew, no questions asked, that he was the one I needed to save.

This was at the very beginning of January, right before Dylan and I were set to leave for England for his best friend's wedding. Not really a great time to go pick up a dog. So we decided that we couldn't get a dog until mid-January when we got back from England and were settled down. Realistically, I knew that I wouldn't want to adopt a dog and immediately have to pawn him off on my parents or a boarding kennel so I could jet off across the Atlantic.

Once we were back, I still had my list of dogs that I was checking daily, hoping that it would get smaller and smaller as some of them got adopted. I knew for sure that I wanted Pup 4, now named Kippy, but there were a few others that I couldn't quite write off. Dylan helped push me to narrow down my list to three, and, shockingly, I did. I was now down to Kippy, a lab/shepherd mix named Icee that looked like a husky, and a little Corgi mix pup named Maxine (I know, I said no girls - but I'm a sucker for short little Corgi legs and big Corgi smiles).

I was still 100 percent sure that I wanted Kippy, but if it was really up to me, I'd take all three of them. Luckily the universe stepped in and someone adopted Maxine the very next day. Dylan really liked Icee (he's a sucker for Huskies), so we decided to email and inquire about both of them on Monday. The shelters emailed me back by early Tuesday morning: Kippy was available immediately and had never had veterinary care in his month at the shelter, and Icee was available at the end of the month, after a very exhaustive application process that the shelter hinted that I might not pass without a current vet reference. Considering that I didn't have a vet reference (because I didn't currently have any pets), the extended wait time, and the fact that Icee was at a foster home and multiple people were highly interested in adopting him, I was finally able to convince Dylan that Kippy was my dog. He had been all along.

Dylan picked him up that same morning from Person County. The shelter volunteers cried when he got there; they were so excited because he'd been there for a month and they were so worried that nobody was going to adopt him, but at the same time they were sad to see him go. He came home with us that afternoon - now named Charlie (or more formally, Sir Charles Sampson Percival Barkley Bright) - and there's never been a question of whether or not I made the right decision. I even checked up on Icee a few weeks later and found out that he had been adopted as well. Even Dylan is coming around and realizing that Charlie was the right choice, even when he suspiciously forgets all of his potty training and pees everywhere.

Visiting me at work right after Dylan picked him up from the shelter.

4 months old. He's clearly already learned how to give me the judgmental look.

Playing with Fletcher, my parents' Rottweiler/Australian Shepherd.

My favorite picture of him. :)

His Petfinder page is still live, now as an adopted dog, and has a few more pictures. When I look at it now, I still feel an overwhelming need to save this puppy, even though he's usually sitting right beside me (probably chewing on a sock liberated from my laundry basket).

Here's to what is hopefully many happy years of squeaky toys, crooked ears, missing socks and musical howling with my loveable pee machine.

BRAID CRAZY

One of the first things that people usually notice about me - or at least the first thing that they comment on - is that I have a lot of hair. And when I say a lot, I really do mean A LOT.* I have thick, long, wavy hair that is highly resistant to any type of styling. I can't do most cute ponytails or updos (they just fall out) and straightening my hair is a multi-hour battle to the death.

So, naturally, I resort to the big-haired girl's life-saver: the braid. I probably find a way to incorporate some sort of braid or twist into my hairstyle at least three or four times a week, if not every day. Not surprisingly, I even have braids in my hair today. (Side note: If you're looking for a good braid tutorial, this post by Hair and Makeup by Steph has a handy breakdown of the popular braids right now and how to create them.)

After seeing The Hunger Games last week (and yes, I read the books first), I decided to try my hand at a Katniss-inspired braid to keep my hair out of the way while I was horseback riding - because who wouldn't want to emulate a strong, independent female heroine?

Anyways, here's how it turned out! Apologies for the sub-par photos. One day I'll invest in a decent camera, but for now I at least get to play around with the Pic Stitch iPhone app.

Don't judge my (lack of) makeup here - I was going horseback riding, not to a beauty pageant.

I think it turned out pretty well, considering the amount of finagling I had to do to get the braid around the back of my head without any help. Dylan and Charlie (the dog) were the only ones around that day, and I don't think either of them are very apt at braiding. I think I need to befriend a neighbor... preferably one who also happens to be a hair stylist.

*If you're a grammar stickler like me, you'll get a laugh out of Hyperbole and a Half's post about the misspelling of "alot."