Good Bye, Ole Friend.

Those puppies up there have seen a lot.  They are 13-years-old.

Yes.  It's true.

They were purchased in 1997 in Lawrence, Kansas while I was attending the University of Kansas.  I used them to walk to and fro from classes and occasionally hit the pavement for cardiovascular/aerobic reasons.

Fast forward to 2010, they are tired.  And, they don't hesitate to let me know.  I have lost two toe nails numerous times, and the blisters...don't even get me started.

It was time to retire those poor babies and give my feet some relief.

Oh, my toes are happy.  They are in roomy, toe heaven.  Plenty of space to roam and wiggle.

Nice.

Happy toes make it easy to fall back into a running routine.  The plan is 4 mornings a week to pound out at least 3 miles.  So far, so good.  With happy toes, of course.

With the weather cooling down a bit {from the high 90s to the high 80s}, Grant's Trail is my path of choice.
It's super close to our house and oh, so pretty.

You even get to catch the occasional Anheuser-Busch Clydesdale grazing in the clover.  {They're in the distance of the last photo.}

Running along Grant's Farm is good stuff.  I may even go 5 miles tomorrow.

We'll see...

hump day bullets.

• I love coffee.
• I love cannolis.
• I love cannolies with coffee.
• Rosie just farted on me.
• Thank you Julie for my gift.  You couldn't have shared it with a more font-crazy person.

Now, let's discuss this sign business...shall we?
• My filling fell out, and it's time to get it fixed.  Ouch!
• I really want this.  My running is getting way better, the Nike + iPod sensor is just what I need to take it to the next level.  It tracks your progress, and 'tells' you your times,distance, etc. while running.  And you don't need the shoes...just a pouch or a tutorial to make your own pouch.  A HUGE motivator.  For me, anyway. 
• There is only about 3 weeks of school left.  I really have to mentally prepare myself.  Last summer far exceeded my expectations!
• Jake and I leave for Louisville to see them in 24 days!
• I am in full party planning mode for Jakey's Army party. {Try doing an Army party without guns.  It's tough.}

inspiration board

• I love this goofy photo of my mom & me at my cousin's wedding on Saturday night.  She'll probably disown my for posting it, but i think it's hilarious.  I don't care how high her eyebrows are raised, she is one sexy 56-year-old.

• I want to be Ohdeedoh's next blogger.  I guess you have to apply, though, huh?
• That's all I got.

numero 3.

Consider it crossed off.

Painfully, crossed off. 

Where should I begin on this one?

Prior to the big day, I was running the whole 3.1 pretty easily.  NO WALKING.

That being said...let's get to the meat of this story.  The scene: Saturday morning, Fenton City Park. 

First, I was pleasantly surprised to see my old chum from back in the day, Katie. 

We went the whole 'life after high-school route' that so many of us take.  Different universities, different cities, different lives.  Fork in the road stuff.  Then came the husbands, careers, kids.  Then, suddenly, you find yourself right back to the beginning.  We're settled in the same city, we're both moms to young ones (she has beautiful 9 month old twins), we both have similar interests, and wicked senses of humor.  Just 2 radical people who found each other once again. 

Anywho, she just finished her first half-marathon last week and thought she'd help me on my running journey.  Or, maybe she just thought she'd show me up.  :)  Either way, it was good to see her, and as much as I thought I wanted to go it alone, it was just what I needed. 

So, we approached the start (there was about 60-70 runners) near the back.  I couldn't find my slip to hand the race officials when (or if) I crossed the finish, and before I knew it everyone was taking off.  I started way too fast (for me), and thought with Katie being there I could hot dog my way through it.  Needless to say, by mile 2 I wanted to die.  Ask her.  She will tell you.  It was pathetic.  Really.  I walked a bit, which, is really a big mistake because it's just that much harder to start running again.  I also said a few choice R-rated words.  Not to mention, it was UNSEASONABLY warm.  I think it was about 80 degrees, and I should've taken off my running tights before we started, but I guess I was thinking it felt so hot because it's been so cool.  Yeah, I was wrong.  Because, folks, it was HOT, and there wasn't much shade along the trail. 

The run itself was pretty bad.  It was like a wild hippopotamus in black tights meandering through suburban terrain fleeing from a hunter with an AK-47 Russian assault rifle.  I wanted to run fast and smooth, but under the weight of 3 tons in the blazing sun it was, really, just too much.

Here's the deal...I could give you every excuse I want to about how or why I didn't do as good as I would have hoped, the heat, my cough, the wheezing I woke up with, blah, blah, blah, but the fact of the matter is that I did it, and I finished.  I ran 90% of the way (maybe a bit more), and I finished.  That's really what's important.  Right?

So, why do I keep going over all of the things that I could have done differently or better, or how I wished I would've kicked it up a notch to beat the two girls in front of us?  I'm not sure.  And in all honesty, what can I do now?  Being obsessive over stupid cr*p is really just ridiculous.  Can you think of a worse way to be? 

The point is this.  I finished.  Sure it wasn't as fast, or graceful, or as pretty as I would have like it to have been.  But, I finished. 

I finished. 

So, number 3 on the list is, officically, crossed off.  Incidentally, Katie will be helping me with #13 VERY SOON.  Scary.  I know.

Oh, yeah, and here are the photos to prove it...

More cowbell.

Tomorrow at about 10:30ish am central time, I will get to cross something off of my list.  I am excited, nervous, giddy, and a little bit proud.  I am running a 5K.  Let me reiterate that I. DO. NOT. RUN.  Period.  Well, at least, I didn't think I ran.  I've never run further than a mile, and that was on the Presidential Fitness Tests in, like, middle school or something.  And, even then, in my youth, I could only pound out a rough 7 minute mile.  A huffing, puffing, total lack of enough oxygen, 7 minute mile.  The kind of exertion that I thought for sure I was going to go into the light and die, right then and there.  I am not an unathletic person by any means.  I played volleyball, and was on our high school's nationally ranked dance team, but running has never been my forte.    I can't pace myself, I don't breathe until I remind myself to.  Really, I'm a hot mess when running.  But, I've been doing it.  I CAN do it.  I've been running those 3.1s consistently, and vigorously, for me, at least. 

All of that aside, I am convinced to the depth of my soul that running is the devil's exercise.  It is pure evil.  Why do I feel this way, even after finding my peace with it, you ask?  Here's why:

How can something that makes me hurt, makes me feel defeated at times, make me want to vomit before, during, & after, makes me want to poke rods in my eyeballs the whole 2nd mile, and makes me want to fall on the pavement in the fetal position, suck my thumb, and call for my mommy, also, make me want to come back for more?

Because I do.

5K doesn't seem to be enough, anymore.  3.1 needs to be 6.2, which needs to be a halfsie, which will HAVE to be a full!  It just doesn't make any sense.  No matter how I spin it. 

It might take me 6+ hours to run a full marathon one day, but, as JC as my witness, I want to do it.  I will do it.  Maybe soon, maybe not as soon as I'd like.  But I will.  I will curse, and spit, and maybe even barf.  But I will love it.  It is 100% self-inflicited pain (mostly mental, of course) AND 100% joy & bliss all rolled up into one neat package. 

Running.

So, to all the runners out there...

I may only be able to hammer out a VERY small fraction of what you can do, but I get it.  I understand the addiction, the obsession, the compulsion.  It's a total head game.  If you can defeat your own little voice saying, "You CAN'T!  Forgetta'bout it, chump!  You're slow, dumb, and too beastly to go another mile or to shave off another 5 minutes!"  Then, let's face it, there isn't much you can't do.  The run is a microcosm for life.  Just keep running.  One more foot, one more meter, one more mile.  Pick up the pace, one more second, one more minute.  Keep running.  Through the pain, the nausea, the lack of air.  Keep going.  Because there is a finish line.  In a race, in life.  It will come, but you have to run through all the crap, and all the good stuff.   Even if you want to stop during those endorphine highs, to relish in the moment, you have to keep going, even if a cramp lay just ahead.  Some of us have an easier go of it, some of us will crawl across the finish line barely conscious.  But you must keep going.  Defeating all of the bad parts of yourself.

Gee whiz, I think I'm in love.  I never, never, never thought I would say that.  Ever.

So, in honor of my first (but not last) 5K...I want to share one of my favorite SNL sketches.  Why?  For the cowbell ,of course.  Tomorrow, if you think about it, pretend you're bangin' on your very own cowbell, and think of me.  Think of me in the hell that is my own little voice telling me, "STOP!  You're tired.  Don't go any further!"  And, push me on.  I will need all the cowbell I can get. 

Enjoy the sketch here.

Run, Fat Boy, Run.

This past weekend I went to Chicago with my sister, cousin, and aunt & uncle to watch my other cousin run in the Chicago Marathon. I've never been a spectator at a marathon (or, and this goes without saying, a participant). It was incredible. I don't think anything has ever made me feel so slovenly, gluttonous, lazy, and just plain fat in my whole life. Seriously. I can't read for 4 hours +, let alone run for that long.

I am amazed at what the human body is capable of. And, in some way, I think that it's our duty to our body to unleash it's potential. It has occurred to me that bodies that are challenged, pushed, and stimulated beyond what we think is their threshold, have minds attached that are equally fit and sharp. The interconnectedness of it all astounds me. These, certainly, aren't new ideas. Dualism has been around for thousands of years; Hinduism, Shankhya, Plato, Aristotle, Descartes. But, to see someone push their body with their mind, to actually have someone before your eyes who you know wants to collapse into the fetal position and cry, but keeps running from the fuel their mind is providing for them, well, it's really quite astonishing. I mean, let's face it, I don't think the 45,000 participants on Sunday could be wrong.

So, congratulations Mikey! You are a rock-star! Your time was awesome (3:40ish), your purple shirt was awesome, your running tights were awesome, YOU were/are awesome!

ps Next year, I think you should pace yourself with Mr.Cut-offs. He ran about a 3:10. Maybe it's the shorts, maybe it's the hair, I don't know, but I'm just sayin'.

who does this?

The husband and I have been doing pilates.

When you are as out of shape as we are, it's hard. Really hard.

We usually do it at night, after the kids go to bed. The other night, while I was waiting for Jake to come upstairs so we could get started, I was thinking...

what 32-year-old man does pilates with his wife? Most men I know would say,

"Pilates? Are you mad, woman? I refuse. I will only run marathons, lift heavy things, or get my exercise dragging my latest kill from hunting back to my truck!".

But,

not my man. He says,

"Sure. What is that, and when do we start?". How great is that?

While I was entwined in my thoughts concerning my beau hunk's awesomeness, I was knocked back into reality by his heavy footed treading up the stairs.

There he was in all of his glory and spandex splendor. A true tribute to the pilates' gods. A testament to all that is sacred and holy about exercise in general.

Not to mention the fact that he not only allowed me take photos, he gave me permission (happily), to put them on the world wide web.

Nice.

God, I love that man.

remember to breathe.