Category Archives: Inside Out

That girl.


Picture this:

I’m running. Wind in my hair and sun on my cheeks. It’s 6:30 a.m. and not only am I awake, but I’m actually outdoors. Moving around. It’s a civic holiday miracle. I begin my cooldown and start walking back toward my building when I spot my friend in the distance. She’s looking a little bleary-eyed and is standing listlessly on the sidewalk while she tries to will her dog to get it over with and just poop already.

“Hey!” I call out, waving.

She looks at me as if trying to figure out who I am. “What are you doing?” she asks. “Oh, I just finished a run!” I smile. She looks at me dubiously. Tells me I looked like a Stepford Wife. I can’t entirely disagree in my Lululemon outfit with a hoodie tied around my waist.

That’s when it hits me: I’m that girl.

That girl who’s out exercising before 7 a.m. That girl who is out enjoying the fresh air while any reasonable person would still be in bed, savouring every delicious morsel of sleep they can steal before the alarm clock goes off. That girl.

When did that happen? Well, since I took the first step in Operation Inside Out, things have started to change –  and it’s shifting much more than just my muffin top.

I’ve begun to realize how quick I am to categorize myself. I’m a creative-type. I’m a vegetarian (not anymore, but a story for another time), I’m a book worm, and the list goes on. And while some of these categories seem positive, others aren’t.  This is becoming quite clear to me. I never thought of myself as sporty either, let alone a runner. But I’m changing and I like it.

And it’s not just about the running. Take, for example, last weekend. It was a gorgeously sunny morning and I was drinking coffee and listening to music on the balcony with The Man and The Kitten. Blueberry muffins were baking in the oven (made from scratch, I should mention) and my heart was filled with joy. I danced around the apartment, waving my oven mitts in the air. A domestic goddess was I.

“Aren’t blueberry muffins and coffee and kittens just wonderful?” I asked The Man as I sashayed around the room (I ask him things like this – I’m that girl).

“Yes,” he replied. “Very… domestic.”

“Mmm, yes. Well I am domestic, wouldn’t you say?”

A pause.

“No…” he says. “You’re more of a Sex and the City, martini-for-dinner kind of girl.”

I stop, mid twirl. Shock! Disbelief! Mouth hanging open, oven mitt drooping toward the floor.

“But I make you pies! Do I not keep my apartment clean?!” Be careful, Man. This is treacherous ground you’re treading.

“Well… yeah…” he swallows hard, eyes darting wildly around the room. He’s looking for an escape.

You probably think I let him have it (I’m that girl), but I wasn’t mad. How could I be mad? In that moment I had characterized myself as domestic, but he’s not totally wrong. The truth of the matter is that I don’t fit into any convenient box, and why should I? I’m part Martha, part martini. I’m cool with that.

I never thought of myself as a runner either. Never thought I’d be out on the street at the crack of dawn getting the comrade-nod from the lady runner who’s one part muscle, one part bone and three parts spray tan. Never thought I’d see a fellow runner’s butt cheek as he whisks past me in his (much too) flouncy shorts before any sensible person is awake.

So I’m just going to forget the categories and focus on being Sarah. The vegetarian/non-vegetarian, sporty/non-sporty lesson in contradictions. The Sarah who The Man recently described as “an incredible writer with a sensitive heart.”

That matters. The rest can just be.

Love From Sarah



It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life…


And I’m feeling… sore.

Today marks a momentous occasion. A new person has come into the world – one whose arrival has been hotly anticipated. This delicate new being needs to be nurtured, fed and coached, but will one day change the world.

No, I’m not talking about Royal Baby No-Name. I’m talking about me… Sarah, the runner. She has been born.

As you might know, I have been convinced to start training for a 5k run. Quiet, those of you gasping in shock – it’s true. I was once like you – a non-believer. But I have been CHANGED! Well, that’s a bit dramatic. Let’s start from the beginning.

A co-worker and I recently decided that we needed to get in shape. We needed to eat better and exercise – and we were going to encourage each other the whole way through. Things were going fine for a whole 45 minutes, until that Judas told the whole office our plan. That’s when things got terrifying.

“You should run a 5k!” our co-workers chorused. I had the appropriate response (a snort, a couple of “riiiiiiight”s and some general scoffing), until I realized that my friends were serious. “A 5k?” said I “that’s just not done.” By me.

It took great effort, but they convinced me. I have committed to racing other human beings on foot.

My friend sent me a link to a couch-to-5k plan and I downloaded a very helpful app. I dug my running shoes out from the bowels of my hall closet and steeled myself. I also tried to rationalize this mad endeavour.

Reasons to run:

1. Hot legs and buns (appealing)

2. Freedom in the form of sun on face and wind in hair (also appealing)

3. Ability to flee from any sinister characters I encounter (scary/useful)

And that was that. I took to the street and was off like a shot! (Not quite… one has to ease into this sort of thing with a brisk walk, as I have learned.)

It was a nice, cool evening and there weren’t too many people on the street to point and laugh in my direction. I had some good tunes on and the stitch in my left side was nicely complemented by the cramp in my right foot. All in all, a successful debut.

So there you go. Step one of my goal completed. Only, like, 108,735,499,356 more steps to go.

I came home, showered, doused myself in a cooling gel moisturizer to combat my protesting muscles and have rewarded myself with a glass of wine (I can’t find that part on the plan, but am assuming it’s some kind of horrible oversight and have adjusted the plan accordingly).

It’s a great big world out there, so I guess old (new?) No-Name and I have something in common. That and jelly legs.

Until next time.

Love From Sarah

Operation: Inside Out

I’m back! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Let’s take a moment to catch up.

I’m back in the city, working hard and having fun. I haven’t been writing much (insert excuse here) but I’ve made a commitment to start again and it’s all a part of my master plan. It’s a plan I’m calling Operation: Inside Out.

Does it sound mysterious and tricksy? Because it’s not. It’s all about feeling good in every single way.

So here’s the deal: I’ve decided that I need a life makeover. Nothing serious like quitting my job and moving to Zimbabwe or anything, but little steps – everyday steps – in the right direction. So I’ve become an advocate for gorgeously responsible products (hello, Arbonne!), have started my food journal again and have committed (gulp) to running a 5k.

It’s basic and it’s all about being thankful for what I have and being the best me I can be. I’m sure I’ll have some bumps along the way, but that’s the fun, right? It wouldn’t be my blog if there wasn’t something to laugh about.

So join me if you want, or just creep me. Either way, come along for the fun run.

Love From Sarah

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