The Top 10 Workout Songs for May 2016


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

The Top 10 Workout Songs for May 2016

Fort Wayne, IN – May 6, 2016 – This month’s tops songs provide an excellent mix of college radio favorites, Top 40 hits, and clubland remixes. Starting with the outliers, you’ve got the latest from guitarless wonders Fitz & The Tantrums and the throwback sound of Ladyhawke. From the pop charts, you’ll find a new single from Jennifer Lopez along with Lizzo’s feelgood contribution to the new Barbershop movie. Finally, directly from the dancefloor, you’ll find remixes of G-Eazy’s breakthrough hit and an anthem from Jess Glynne.

If your tastes lean toward certain styles, you’ll find a few excellent tracks to round out your playlist. Alternatively, if you’re looking for something fresh and eclectic, you can swap this mix wholesale. The opportunities abound. When you’re ready to explore them, here’s the full list—according to the votes logged on workout music site Run Hundred.

Fitz& The Tantrums – HandClap – 140 BPM

Ladyhawke – A Love Song – 120 BPM

The Goo Goo Dolls – Over and Over – 123 BPM

Jess Glynne – Don’t Be So Hard on Yourself (KREAM Remix) – 125 BPM

Keith Urban – Wasted Time – 100 BPM

Jennifer Lopez – Ain’t Your Mama – 120 BPM

G-Eazy& Bebe Rexha – Me, Myself & I (Viceroy Remix) – 113 BPM

Jason Derulo – If It Ain’t Love – 129 BPM

Fifth Harmony – The Life – 105 BPM

Lizzo – Good As Hell – 96 BPM

To find more workout songs, folks can check out the free database at RunHundred.com. Visitors can browse the song selections there by genre, tempo, and era—to find the music that best fits with their particular workout routine.

Contact:
Chris Lawhorn
Run Hundred
Email: mail@runhundred.com

On Mother’s Day


On Mother’s Day, I hear so many precious stories about ‘mothers.’ How I wish I could share those precious words written with such love. I never knew ‘unconditional love’ from my mother. She placed price tags or poisonous words on all of her actions. I remember her saying, and I quote, “Actions speak louder than words.” As a young girl, I remember cleaning her house, just to remove my father’s initials, “W W P” scribbled in his penmanship. I suppose he did those ‘actions’ to tell us girls we needed to dust. Once, I wrote it tiny penmanship by W = Why = W – Won’t you P=polish the furniture to remove the dust? Quickly, I sprayed Pledge on his initials, just before he caught me. “Wooo.” I said to myself. “He almost caught me!”
 
On Mother’s Day, I always craved a hug from my mother. I recall holding my arms out to her, just so she and I could embrace with a Mother’s Day hug. She turned away. One Mother’s Day after I started babysitting to earn money, I rushed to a store with $5.00 in my wallet, so ready to find something for Mother’s Day for my mother.
 
Just what could I buy my mother on her special day? Glancing on shelves in a five and dime store, I saw a beautiful  shades of pink bowl with golden edges and four fluted legs. Perfect! The bowl was $4.99. I had just enough money to buy it. I couldn’t wait to wrap it up and give it to my mother for Mother’s Day. I imagined this beautiful bowl would be the perfect bowl to hold her potato salad or banana pudding. While I paid for the bowl, I didn’t have enough money. The cashier looked at me. “5.25,” she said.
“I’ve only got $5.00.”
Reaching inside her pocket, she smiled at me. “I found a quarter this morning, so you’ve got enough. I bet this is for Mother’s Day.”
I nodded, smiling my biggest smile.
Rushing home carefully, so I wouldn’t break the bowl, I rushed to my room to wrap it.
Later that afternoon, I gave the package to my mother. She placed the package on the table.
“Aren’t you gonna open it?” I asked, my voice quivering.
“Nope. Not now.”
“But…It’s Mother’s Day. You can use it for your potato salad.”
“I ain’t making no potato salad today. Maybe I’ll never make it again.”
I stared at the beautiful bowl. Tears danced in my eyes. I turned away. I did not want my mother to see me crying again.
On our next special occasion at home, I looked for the bowl to be placed on the dinner table. I was confident the bowl would be holding mama’s potato salad. I never saw the bowl again.
My mother died under questionable circumstances on September 11, 2002.
After her death, I wanted to have something to remember her. I gave her diamond earrings when I was 16. I asked my sister if I could have the earrings as a token, to remember her.
“You ain’t getting nothing…” She spat at me.
Two years ago, I entered an antique shop near my home. I moved from booth to booth. “Just looking,” I said. I stopped at a booth with depression glass. Since I collect depression glass I walked slowly, glancing at stemware, bowls, plates of all colors.
Resting in the center of a display, my eyes stared at a bowl. Fluted legs. The bowl was oval in shape. Beautiful. I picked it up. The bowl was heavy. Could it be?
Tracing the shape of the bowl with my fingertips, tears danced in my eyes. This was the same bowl. A bowl similar to the bowl I gave my mother so many years ago.
The price tag was $29.95. I carried the bowl to the desk. The manager of the store remembered me.
Retired now, he found his happiness in his antique shop. His hair was silver. His face embraced lines. He smelled a bit like cigarette smoke. No smoking signs were inside the building.
“How much will you take for this bowl?”
He reached for it. “Well, it’s been here a while. One of the legs isn’t even so the bowl wobbles a bit. “How about $15.00.”
I smiled. Paid for the bowl and left. Arriving home, I washed the bowl noticing the wobbling legs.
“This will be perfect for potato salad or green beans,” I said. Remembering my childhood, tears filled my eyes.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” I said, lifting my head to see the sunset. Remembering. Thinking Still craving my mother’s embrace. On special occasions, or family dinners, I use that bowl, filling it with sautéed green beans, or potato salad. Each time I use the bowl, I remember Mother’s Day.
Although I never saw my mother using that bowl, today, I have something significant to look at — just to remember her and Mother’s Day.

Hello Four Walls – I’ve Been Kidnapped ByThe Noro Virus Kidnapped Me


Dearest Readers:

I planned to share this story about three or four days ago; however, this noro virus had other ideas.

Saturday, April 16, 2016 began as a beautiful, sunshiny day. One of the beauties of living in South Carolina I appreciate the scenes, beaches, scents and flowers, especially at spring time. I rushed around the house in anticipation of a shopping trip with new friends. While riding in the back seat of their spacious truck, I commented about what a beautiful day it was to spend time with new friends. Little did I know how quickly things can change.

Walking around the shopping center, I walked into a shoe store. Phil found a gorgeous pair of sandals for me. He wanted me to try them on, I declined. My forehead was dripping with beats of sweat, or as I like to say, “my glitter is showing.”

“I feel strange,” I whispered to him. “I think I’ll go outside and sit down at one of those benches.”

Ever so slowly I made my way and sat down. Now, my entire face was covered with sweat, along with my neck. Phil commented while touching my forehead. I tried to laugh, mentioning something about maybe I’m having those ‘hot flashes’ now that all my friends complain about.

I’ve never had a hot flash. My friends describe them as a quick, burning flash of heat that rises from your toenails to your head. The only place I was hot was my forehead, covered with beads of perspiration, or as I like to say, ‘I do not sweat, I glisten with sparkles.’ Today, I could not joke or make silliness about how ‘strange’ I felt. The beads of ‘sparkles’ continued to soak my forehead. My hair was soaked, along with my neckline. My fingers were shivering. One moment – my body felt as if I was standing in a sauna. The next moment, I was standing inside an igloo. Just what was this feeling? I was sitting on a bench in the bright sunshine. Temperatures outside were warm but not hot enough to make me dripping with my little sparkles.

Our friends saw me sitting at the bench with Phil. They suggested we might find a restaurant, eat an early lunch and I would probably feel better. I agreed.

Sitting down at the restaurant, my body was shivering now. I read the menu, ordered coffee and a salad and waited to feel better; nevertheless, the strange sensation overwhelmed me.

Moments later, my stomach regurgitated. I projectile vomited everything that was inside of my stomach. At least I thought. Phil wiped my blouse, placed a napkin on my forehead and I attempted to stand up, to get to the restroom. Fortunately, I made it to the restroom before my entire stomach exploded. I breathed deeply…Inhaled…Breathed again…

What is wrong with me? My hands were shaking. My legs felt like spaghetti. This was not going to be a good day for me.

I flushed my face with cold water, noticing how pale and deathly I looked. I sat down in a chair at the ladies restroom and waited for the color to return, or to see if I was swimming in a sea of nausea again.

Returning to the table, my stomach regurgitated once again. I was mortified. In my entire life I have never thrown up in public. Deciding that I was much too weak to shop, I suggested going to the car and resting while everyone shopped. How I wanted to slip under the table and crawl under the floor so nobody could see me. Phil got our friend’s car key and walked with me. The walk to the car, usually an easy and short journey for me appeared to be miles away.

“I can’t make it to the car. Find me a wheelchair, please.” Phil sat me down at a bench. Moments later, he returned with a wheelchair. A $10.00 fee at the shopping center, even with an emergency. I fell into the wheelchair and off we went. Riding in the wheelchair reminded me of my ride in a pace car at Bristol race track. G-force of nausea captured me again, although this time, I kept everything down. I had a nasty taste of stale coffee in my mouth. Phil offered me a mint. I sucked on it, hoping to feel better.

Slipping into the truck, Phil rolled the windows down so I would feel a breeze. I was shivering still. He took the key, locked the car and off he went. My stomach gurgled, so I opened the door to the truck. The burglar alarm screamed. Now, if I did regurgitate in the parking area, everyone would see. Phil returned, wanting to know why I opened the door.

“If I throw up again, I do not want to do it all over his new, beautiful vehicle.”

Phil apologized, leaving the key with me! Thank goodness. If I had to make a spectacle of myself, I wanted it to be when EMS came to get me, in the event I needed to go to the hospital. Today was not the day I wanted to enter a place and be remembered. I simply wanted to crawl through the woodwork and die, if today was the day I left this earth.

What was to be a splendid day of shopping was one of the sickest days of my entire life. I thought it was related to a migraine headache, but this was much worse.

Cutting our plans short, we got home before dark. I apologized to our friends, hoping they would understand I was really sick and not faking this dreadful illness. I remember bathing and crawling my way to bed. About 8:45 pm, stomach cramps and a gurgling stomach awoke me. I rushed to the bathroom, only this time I was not nauseated. I was suffering from some of the worst diarrhea a human could endure. The constant waves of diarrhea reminded me of a riptide, washing over me keeping me awake all night long. I battled with this manic stomach illness until 8:15 the next morning, a total of 12 long, painful and weak hours. The riptide of diarrhea forced me to take three additional baths before the sickness eased. I kept asking my body how it could explode with such illness when nothing was inside of my stomach.

Today is Friday, April 22. Still, I feel incredibly weak. Phil got sick on Tuesday at work, arriving home before lunchtime. Every morning I told myself I could do the laundry…Or, I could cook a meal…If I tried, I could vacuum. Once, I attempted to get the vacuum cleaner, only to decide I was much too weak – still. I managed to wash the clothes that I wore when I was so sick on Saturday, washing them twice just to make certain the fabrics were clean and sanitized.

No, I haven’t exactly tracked my food intake since I’m a member of Weight Watchers. This week I’ve eaten only small bites of food, or a small can of soup. Our Friday night date – let’s just say, it was postponed! Every doctor’s appointment had to be postponed, along with my weekly weigh-in at Weight Watchers. I was contagious. I would not share this illness with anyone!

When Phil arrived home on Tuesday, I noticed how white his face was. Neither of us wanted food or liquids. We placed our pups in the breakfast room and away we went, to separate bedrooms to ease the illness. For two days, both of us camped out in the den, moving only when Mother Nature called. I suppose we were quite a silly pair together. Neither of us feeling strong enough to care for the other.

My head continues to spin and hurt from this virus. The noro virus whips all of the strength a body has. No appetite. No strength to walk or care for yourself. I Googled stomach virus, discovering norovirus.

The symptoms of Norovirus include:

Nausea & Vomiting – my vomiting felt like I was projectile vomiting my entire stomach.

 

Fever & Chills – one moment my head is covered with sweat. The next moment, I shivered.

 Migraines – Daily I’ve awoken with a bad headache.

 Stomach Cramps – reminding me of the severe cramps I suffered before menopause.

 Sore Muscles – my husband suffered with sore muscles. The only sore muscles I have are in my throat and stomach.

 Urine Changes – surprisingly, my urine was a bright yellow. Normally, clear, that is how I knew I was dehydrated.

 Dry, Parched Mouth – I still have chapped lips and a dry mouth. To resolve this, I am drinking more Gator Ade.

 Increased Heart Rate – I didn’t notice this. What I have felt is the inability to walk well. I have clung to the walls in my home whenever I feel “strange” again. Suddenly the lyrics of “Hello Walls” are changing and my weakened body is saying: “Hello walls. Thank God you’re here today…Just to hold me and keep my feet from falling from all this pain….”

 Several of my friends suggested I should get to the doctor immediately. Just how does one get to a doctor’s office when she is so ill? Friends suggested they would take me. I declined. I did not want to contaminate anyone! No doubt this norovirus could result in someone losing friendships. I cherish my friends, so I refused to let them do anything for me.

 Today I do feel better and I am hopeful I can style my hair and wear makeup today. To those who know me, they realize I am never seen in public without makeup. Not so this week. I haven’t left my house at all, until Friday. My face is naked now, but I feel confident after writing this, I will smile again and attempt makeup. Who knows If I will succeed. I suppose you will just have to wait to read my next post – that is WHEN I am well. This virus kidnapped me, only no one would pay the ransom. Another side effect I’ve had – a lack of cognitive abilities. Attempting to answer a question on the phone, or to discuss how I really feel…let’s just say – I’ve struggled to speak with intelligence. Let’s don’t even discuss my keyboarding skills now. I keep telling myself this too shall pass.

 UPDATE: Sunday, April 24, 2016, I wore makeup yesterday and today. Happy Days are here again…I have no idea when I will be able to sing again!

 Yes…This Too Shall Pass…I’ll be so happy when I can be well and strong enough to get myself to the beach. Weather forecast say it has been a beautiful, picture perfect beach week, but don’t ask me. All I’ve seen is people walking by the side of the road and four walls. Lots of walls! I did manage to clip roses from my rose bush. They are helping me to see that life is out there and soon, I will be strong again. I hope!

 This

Too

Shall

Pass!

 

The Top 10 Workout Songs for April 2016


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

The Top 10 Workout Songs for April 2016

Fort Wayne, IN – April 4, 2016 – Ladies rule the gym this month—with females out front on all but three of the month’s top tunes. The list also favors the poppier end of the musical spectrum. At the same time–even with these elements in common—there’s still room for a few surprises.

The most anticipated songs of the month are the new singles from Sia and Meghan Trainor. Collaborations also proved popular—with Zara Larsson and Fifth Harmony teaming up with MNEK and Ty Dolla $ign, respectively. Lastly, from the fellows, you’ll find the latest from Pitbull, a remix from Coldplay, and a fast track from St. Lucia.

In short, what seems like a homogeneous playlist on the surface turns out to be a remarkably fluid mix of dance, pop, rap, and rock on further inspection. Moreover, it’s spring—when pop’s jauntiness returns after months of hibernation. So, it’s a great time of year for buoyant beats and an even better time to get outdoors.

Here’s the full list—according to the votes logged on workout music site Run Hundred.

Pitbull – Freedom – 118 BPM

Zara Larsson & MNEK – Never Forget You – 73 BPM

Coldplay – Adventure of a Lifetime (Matoma Remix) – 112 BPM

Years& Years & Tove Lo – Desire – 126 BPM

Sia – Cheap Thrills – 90 BPM

Meghan Trainor – NO – 94 BPM

St. Lucia – Help Me Run Away – 158 BPM

JoJo – When Love Hurts (Hugel Remix) – 120 BPM

Fifth Harmony & Ty Dolla $ign – Work from Home – 105 BPM

Tori Kelly – Something Beautiful – 93 BPM

To find more workout songs, folks can check out the free database at RunHundred.com. Visitors can browse the song selections there by genre, tempo, and era—to find the music that best fits with their particular workout routine.

Contact:
Chris Lawhorn
Run Hundred
Email: mail@runhundred.com

Chattahoochee Child – Bibb City


Bibb City – mid 1960’s

 Papa worked as a loom fitter at Bibb Mill. Wearing Bibb overalls and a denim shirt to work, rarely did he find the freedom or time to take a tobacco chew break. He knew the repercussions if Grammy caught him chewing tobacco; and he realized if he chewed tobacco at the mill someone would tell her. There were no secrets in Bibb City.

My grandparents lived from pay day, to pay day, thankful to have food on the table and a roof over their heads. Papa lived on a farm before meeting Grammy, planting corn, tobacco and cotton during the day. At night, he raised Hell, drinking moonshine and homemade wine. He had a reputation of trouble and fast times with the women. I’ve often wondered if his reputation was because he was considered a half-breed, because of his Indian heritage.

Perhaps that is why Papa and I never agreed on anything. He questioned every action taken by me. In retaliation, I rebelled from him and Grammy, asking questions, demanding answers. My philosophy in life was if someone asked a question, they deserved an answer. Papa said children don’t need answers; they need discipline, and a swift pat on the bottom. He had a pet name for me, calling me Little Miss Sassy Fras. I hated being called that and told him so. He simply cackled, mimicking the way I behaved.

At thirteen, I earned money by babysitting. I rushed to the drug store to buy makeup. Furious with me, Papa found the eye shadow, Maybelline mascara and eyeliner, tossing it in the trash. He said girls who wore makeup were whores. My new nickname was whore. When I told Papa a virgin could not be a whore, he slapped me hard on the face.

On weekends, Papa took Rusty fishing at the boat club. The boat club was a little fishing club, upstream from the mill, located about twenty miles from where the crow flies in Bibb City.

Although Papa could fish from the riverbanks by the mill, he chose not to. “The Chattahoochee waters are too muddy,” He said. “We think the mill dumps waste in the waters.”

The floating dead fish and garbage he saw floating along the crest of the dirty waters was a testament of the pollution.

Papa’s fishing boat was a small two-seater wooden boat structure, with a small Johnson motor. The boat was not fancy, compared to modern bass boats or ski boats. Papa’s fishing boat was painted a faded pea green color with the words ‘Gone Fishing’ painted in black.

 

 

Chattahoochee Child


PART TWO

The headlines in the newspaper caught my attention. Bibb Manufacturing Company becomes a ghost town. I stared at the caption with a tight bewildered look on my face, reading it again, picturing the desolate hope filled community of Bibb City, Georgia, the destitute textile community of my youth. Bibb City was the small cotton mill town where my footprints were imprinted within the clay riverbeds. Bibb City was the only place I had roots established. Bibb City was Home to me.

The richness of life in a mill town is disappearing now while the little town called Bibb slowly becomes extinct. Bibb Manufacturing Company abandoned the area in 1998, closing the mill, leaving a graveyard of homes, failing businesses, broken families and memories behind. The hunger for better jobs, civil rights, and the race for modern technology prevailed, leaving the Town of Bibb City devastated.

I poured another cup of coffee, reading the article again. The years of working as a reporter filled my mind with curiosities and questions about the dying communities of mill workers. I scribbled notes on a pad. My mind rushed back to my youth, playing a mental continuous loop video of memories from the small town of Bibb City, Georgia.

Why was the little town  called Bibb City distressing me? Years ago, I drove away from the Village without looking back, embarrassed to be associated with people who judged others by the colors of skin, religion, sexual preference, or political choice. Sipping a hot cup of coffee, I realized my perspective about Bibb City was changing.

Reading the article again, my body was shaking. If the mill is no longer in business, what will the residents of this precious mill village do for survival? Bibb Mill provided housing and when the Mill decided to sell those homes to mill workers, many of the hard working employees took their first steps to independence and the American dream — a home — a brick and mortar foundation where roots could remain.  My grandparents became homeowners, buying a tiny brick home on Walnut Street. Grammy  insisted on buying a home so Mom could have a place to live.

After Grammy’s death, Mom had other ideas. She sold the house, wasting away all of the money. What about the historical value of the Bibb Mill? Couldn’t the politicians see the potential for historical recording? Was everything in the corporate world about the potential for a profit? What about the families who lived in the Village?

A whirlpool of mixed emotions churned inside me. As I read the article about the abolishment of the town I knew so well, I discovered childhood feelings resurfacing. I debated my anger for a few moments, realizing I could do nothing to stop the bureaucracy of developers, who had no comprehension of the premise of life in a mill town. The one thing I could do was to write about the rise and fall of Bibb Manufacturing Company. As my grandfather reminded me, “You work for the Mill, you’ll always have a job.” Papa died before the Mill closed.

I called my editor, leaving a voice mail, expressing interest in a story about mill workers. Bibb City would be the focal point. When he returned my call, I pitched the idea.

“We have to do this story,” I said. “It isn’t just about life in a mill town. It’s a story about relationships, civil rights, bigotry, and so much more. It’s a feature, maybe even a series. We’ll start with The Rise and Fall of The Bibb Manufacturing Company.”

I waited for his response.

“Let me think about it.”

“I need a commitment now,” I pushed aggressively. “I’m packing my bags. There’s a story there and I’m going to get it,” I said. “My mother lives there. She’s had a stroke.”

“Sounds like you have some issues,” Garrett groaned.

“A few. If you’re not interested in the story, I’ll find someone else.”

Garrett laughed. “That’s what I like about you, Rebecca. You always push to the limit.”

“I’ll call you later,” Garrett breathed into the phone.

I hung up.

 

 

Top 10 Workout Songs for March 2016


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

The Top 10 Workout Songs for March 2016

Fort Wayne, IN – March 1, 2016 – This month’s top 10 list draws heavily from the Top 40 chart and club scene. While this reliance on pop tunes and big beats might make the list seem one-dimensional at first, there are just enough curve balls to keep it interesting.

On the pop front, you’ll find new singles from Gwen Stefani and Ellie Goulding. On the dance side, there’s a track from DJ to the stars Paul Oakenfold and a remix from Diplo and Sleepy Tom that borrows its hook from Jade’s 1992 hit “Don’t Walk Away.” Lastly, the wild cards include an Australia-via-Jamaica pop song from Sia and Sean Paul plus a single featuring Pitbull and Robin Thicke on vocals with music from Aerosmith guitarist Joe Perry and Blink-182 drummer Travis Barker.

In short, the allure of this month’s list is that it emphasizes catchy, rhythmic-driven tunes that will give your routine an immediate boost. At the same time, there are enough surprises and detours to keep you engaged. So, when you’re ready to move, you’ll find plenty of good times—and a little adventure—below.

Here’s the full list–according to the votes logged on workout music site Run Hundred.

Sia& Sean Paul – Cheap Thrills – 90 BPM

Paul Oakenfold – Bla Bla Bla (Radio Edit) – 138 BPM

Twenty One Pilots – Stressed Out – 85 BPM

Pitbull, Robin Thicke, Joe Perry & Travis Barker – Bad Man – 120 BPM

Tori Kelly & Big Sean – Hollow – 126 BPM

Gwen Stefani – Make Me Like You – 118 BPM

Ellie Goulding – Something in the Way You Move – 109 BPM

Dillon Francis, Kygo & James Hersey – Coming Over (Tiesto Remix) – 122 BPM

Jess Glynne – Don’t Be So Hard on Yourself – 121 BPM

Diplo& Sleepy Tom – Be Right There (Boombox Cartel Remix) – 146 BPM

To find more workout songs, folks can check out the free database at RunHundred.com. Visitors can browse the song selections there by genre, tempo, and era—to find the music that best fits with their particular workout routine.

Contact:
Chris Lawhorn
Run Hundred
Email: mail@runhundred.com
###