Funny S*** Tuesday...

... literally and figuratively.

So I sometimes get a little uncomfortable with showing my deeper side. I am a reallyoverly sensitive, insightful, deeply-feeling person. Don't laugh. It's true. I have a weird habit of trying to cover upbalance out the inspirational, meaningful "me" with crassness and stupid jokes. Ask my husband, and he'll tell you how good I am at wrecking a mood with inappropriate laughter.

What this means is that I can't just go with yesterday's post about shooting the moon and my running goals.

No...

Today I have to destroy the image of me being some kind of super together grown up. This is sure to leave some of you broken and disillusioned. Others will laugh at me. Still others will laugh with me.

Yesterday I had physical therapy. That was were my PT told me that she fully supported me training for a marathon. I even told her my time goal and she didn't laugh :) But... before I went into the treatment room I had to change into my shorts.

I had been wearing these yoga pants for two days (this is not the gross part). The day before I had felt some weird crumbly something going on around my backside (okay, that's kind of gross). I couldn't figure it out and so just ignored it, thinking maybe it would just go away.

When I took my pants off in the dressing room at PT, this was what I saw...

That's gross.

All I could think of was... what the heck? though the words in my head were a little stronger.

Then I realized what this mess was. And no... it wasn't s***. 

It was chocolate.

The first day I wore these pants I had gone grocery shopping with two of my kids. I needed a little pick-me-up in the form of chocolate. I put a fistful of chocolate chips into a little ziploc baggie and stuffed it into the waistband at the back of the pants. The baggie had a hole in it. The heat and pressure of my back against the seat of the car, squishing the chocolate chips, caused this mess.

I had to share this with someone who would understand, so I messaged Beth at Shut Up and Run! It had made me think of a post she did about licking herself like a cat after sitting in melted chocolate in her car. 

Of course she asked if had eaten it.

The answer is NO. Even though I know it's chocolate, it really looks too gross.

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Next funny thing...

My kids have been on my case something fierce about playing on the computer. What is up with that? What happened to kick-the-can and paper dolls? I was trying to get stuff done and so I caved.

The three older kids were clustered around the screen, laughing hilariously...

What words do you love to say? 

What words always make you giggle?


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And now serious biz...although the fact that I am plugging anything with a pink voting circle badge could be construed as exceptionally funny :P

The woman who inspired me to start running again and to also start a blog is in one of those frightening Circle of Moms Top 25 contests. She is in it because I told her to enter. Was that mean?

Anyway, she is beyond amazing... drop-dead gorgeous mom of 8 little kids, about to run her first marathon (St. George...most likely sub-4), gracious, funny, smart. It's the Top 25 Big Families blog contest. She is up against some super heavy-hitters. But Catey is the real deal, folks. Please go vote for her! Remember... you can vote once every 24 hours :)

Here's her direct voting link... right HERE.

Shooting the Moon and my running goals

Urban dictionary defines shooting the moon as A task or feat that is difficult to the point of near impossibility.

In the game of Hearts, it involves taking all 14 of the penalty cards worth a total of 26 points. Wikipedia has this to say about shooting the moon... Attempting to shoot the moon is often a risky strategy.

My dad loved to play cards. We spent hours and hours playing Gin and Hearts. Whenever we played Hearts, he would shoot the moon. Pretty much every single time. He'd occasionally miss. Sometimes he'd have an escape route and other times it would all just blow up in his hand! He never seemed frustrated or disappointed when he 'failed'... he knew it was just a game. The outcome didn't really matter as long as you went for it and as long as you had fun.

"Always aim for the moon. Even if you don't make it, you'll land among the stars."

You could also use the expression "Go big or go home."

Or "Go all in or don't go at all."

All of these work for me but...

I love shooting the moon. 

It always reminds me of my dad... and that makes me smile :)

After spending a chunk of the summer semi-injured (which was nothing compared to spending 8 years hurting) and then participating in that awesome, life-altering experience as a part of Team Nuun (which I have been told to get over because people are sick of hearing about it), I am not solid in my half-marathoning place. And that's what's next.

October 9 I am running in the Long Beach Half-Marathon in... you guessed it... Long Beach. Based on where I was when I entered the thing, I had set a time goal for myself. It was unrealistic but not impossible at the time, but hey, Go big or go home. I was shooting for 1:50. Unless I get me a pair of rocket boots, that ain't happenin' now fo' sho'. 

Re-evalute. Reassess. Reset.

Stretch goal:  sub 2-hours.

Solid goal:  2:07 (yesterday I ran 12 in 2:01 and felt great)

Can-do goal:  survive and don't get hurt.

Sub-2 hours will be my shooting the moon goal for this race. And this race will be the jumping off point for my next two goals, one of which I never thought I would ever consider again. Have you guessed what it is?

Yep... a marathon.


Shooting the moon :)

Running for Joy... Running to Remember...

On Thursday, I put forth my memories of the tragedy that was this day ten years ago.

Today, I celebrated life in remembrance of those who lost theirs. I do believe most of them would want that. I know I would want that.

When I go, sure, be sad for a bit. But then remember my zest for life and honor me by emulating that. I am no stranger to loss and hardship. Every day is fraught with challenges – big and small. I honor my loved ones and all manner of heroes who've passed away by taking on these challenges... by diving into every moment of being alive, by wringing every ounce of "experience" and every drop of joy that I can from this unwieldy and unpredictable thing that is LIFE.

Before we were married, my husband once asked me, "What is the basis of your spiritual foundation?" I got really pissy. I didn't understand the question... and I didn't enjoy neither the tone nor the context in which the question was asked. He and I were in the middle of a run, and it was merely his idea of light and lively conversation to pass the time. Whatever happened to the Kevin Bacon Game?

What he wanted to know was:  When things are hard... unfathomably hard, when I am experiencing deep pain... physical or emotional, when the s*** hits the fan, when the going gets tough... how do I make it through? What do I look to? How do I find peace? How do I find the reassurance that things will be okay?

I told him I didn't know. I just do. Somehow... somewhere within... I just know. And trust.

Things might really hurt or be really hard for awhile... but things will be okay. They will.

I look up and I see this...

a glorious Maxfield Parrish sky

and this...

the iconic engineering masterpiece that is the Golden Gate Bridge

I look down and I see this...

the exhaustion of a little boy who spent the day playing so hard and so joyously

that he fell asleep on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table

and this....

the limitless curiosity of a two-year old that mandates taking out all the puzzles 

and dumping out all the pieces without wanting to put them together

I look out and I see this...

the delight of a swing

and this....

the joy of making new friends!

And I ask "How can things not turn out okay?" and I am reminded of the expression that goes something like...

"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay... it's not the end."

Compared to the losses of 10 years ago, it's trivial, but I didn't run or do any sort of physical activity more strenuous than grocery shopping for 8 long years. Because I couldn't. Most days the pain was incredible and nearly unbearable... and it was always there. I limped. I hobbled. I cried. But I knew it wasn't the end. Things weren't okay yet.

August 31st marked one year since my return to running. Today I ran to remember. The plan was 11 miles to remember 9/11. I was alone when I hit the 10-mile mark after running with my new friends for the first 9. When I looked in as I began that eleventh mile, I was completely overcome with joy... the joy of being able to run... the joy of being alive... the joy that things are starting to be okay. I didn't stop at 11... I held that feeling for an extra mile.

Not everything is okay... and that's cool.

I don't want it to be the end yet :)

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