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I just went over to the Fleet Feet website to snag some photos from yesterday's Wounded Warrior 5K race and saw this...
Twelve days????
TWELVE days?????
Deep breaths, deep breaths.
How in the world are there only TWELVE DAYS until the 1/2 marathon??
I'm freakin' out.
Pant pant pant.
On the upside, I looked like a rockstar yesterday...
Trish, Kristine and I had a great time for sure!
Okay... still freaking out.
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See this?
It's the face of terror.
See this?
It's my husband, thirty feet in the air, on a tree climber (usually used for deer hunting) while the limb he just cut with the chainsaw plummets to the ground.
And this...
...is my hand holding the rope attached to aforementioned plummeting limb.
(Now do you understand the look of terror?)
I love him because he'll actually climb thirty feet in the air on a little metal contraption with a chainsaw hanging from a rope.
I love him because he'll do this crazy stunt for free to help his man crush, even while we currently have NO health insurance. (The new insurance kicks in anyday now, don't worry.)
I love him because he's smart enough to do this kind of thing without chopping off his arms and legs, or dropping a limb on our neighbors' house.
And...
I love him for having the GOOD SENSE to stop chopping when he realizes that there's a damned likely chance that he's going to get clobbered when the top section of the tree comes crashing down on him.
Hmmm... I think this last reason is my favorite of all.
Anybody know a good tree service?
;)
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After goodness only knows HOW many years, Miss Priss finally accomplished a lifelong goal...
Yep, with the help of a couple of her very brave besties, she actually made it ALL the way through Alee Temple's Terror Plantation!
Sure, a haunted house seems like such a minor thing, but oh no... let me just tell you, not for my kid. For years she's begged to go, we get there, buy the ticket ($8) and then she backs out and cries. Even her friends couldn't get her to go in. Heck, she even knows two of the ghouls who wander around inside the place scaring people. She's such a dork. (I can't imagine where she gets it from... sigh.)
But this year she finally put her game face on and went for it.
And look, she's even smiling after the masked chainsaw psycho chased her out of the building.
I'm so proud.
;)
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Yet another witty and alluring blog title, what can I say.
And lest you should worry that I'm sittin' on the pot with a bottle of Pepto, let me clear up any misconceptions associated with said witty and alluring blog title. I'm talkin' about running... tootsies in motion... the repetitive jarring of ones feet, knees, hips, belly rolls and ta tas. Yes, that kind of runs.
The kind of runs that reduce your perfectly pedicured toesies into a pruney pathetic mess. Sort of like this...
(Gross.)
I hate to blather on about something you don't give two squirts about, but lately I've had several questions and comments about this little adventure in masochism I've embarked upon. So since I just completed a 14 mile torture session, and really don't want to move off of this couch, I thought it would be a good time to chat about this process in which I've found myself.
First of all, what? Did I just say fourteen miles? I know right?!?!?! Tricia and I met for our weekly run at Lake Mayer this morning, and after we finished our two laps, I just kept going. Now, please realize that when I say 'run' I am actually doing 3 to 4 minute intervals of running and walking. Today I chose to run for a song and walk for a song (and may I just say that Still of the Night by Whitesnake is like the longest freakin' song ever... or at least it seems that way when it comes on for your running interval.)
Fourteen miles is a beating.
But it's stuff like this that gets me through it...
I believe this with every ounce of my body and soul. I love it, and if it wasn't so darned long, I'd have it tattoed on my arm where I could see it everyday.
I think it's what makes me want to keep running. Oh, well yes the FOUR inches off of my waist doesn't hurt either. Okay, and the fact that I'm stronger than I've ever been, and probably the fittest of my life. And... maybe because of comments from people like my friend last night who told me I look like the twenty year old version of myself. (It may have been the tequila talking, but I'm gonna take it anyway.)
So it looks like this couch potato has turned a corner. I can't believe it. I mean come on, y'all know how lazy I am right? Or course, who knows how long I'll keep it up... I may not have knees left after the end of the year.
Now, to answer the handful of questions I've had...
Q. Running bra?
It's padded and ON SALE. I love it and just ordered two more.
Q. Do you get bored when you're treading the pavement for so long?
A. Nope, Either I have Mendy by my side to swap stories or I have my Ipod Shuffle. It's stocked with a couple hundred songs, anything from country to 80's to Christian rock. Heck, I've even got the pan flute edition of Leaving Wolbrook (sp?) from Rain Man on there.
My favorites to run to are:
"I'm Not Afraid" by Eminem (the explicit verson thank you very much... there's nothing like a well placed F-bomb to motivate me.)
"Dancing with Myself" ~ Billy Idol
"Wide Open Spaces" ~ Dixie Chicks
"Kiss" ~ Prince
And of course the pan flute song.
Q. Do you eat breakfast before a big run?
A. Absolutely, although I hate eating early, but it's mandatory. I prefer a peanut butter Snackwells bar or peanut butter on wheat toast and a half a banana. Today, I think I depleted myself, but I popped a nice sugary peppermint and pushed through the last couple of miles. (And I also take two ibuprofen before heading out as well... it keeps my knees from complaining to loudly.)
(~~~Unsolicited TMI ALERT!~~~)
And while we're on the food/nutrition subject I must address the bowel subject. Although I haven't been directly asked this question, the subject ALWAYS comes up. I mean think about it, you get up early in the morning, eat a nice fiber-filled breakfast and head out for a couple hours of jouncing and bouncing... it's bound to happen. So, I've perfected my own strategy... a glass of red wine before bed, and everything works its way out before the run. Tada! Man, I'm so freakin' full of wisdom, I can't stand myself.
Aren't you happy you know me?
Well, I guess that about wraps it up... advice and input from a novice runner/walker/marathoner wanna-be.
Now... where's the Ibuprofen??
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Okay, not REALLY, unless the pits are filled with chocolate and Adam Levine look alikes.
I just needed a witty title for this...
Looky looky what my favorite boy surprised me with the other day! No more ratty tin firepit for us, oh nooooOOOooo... we's in da big time baby.
I sure do wuv him, and I'll prove it by slathering him in s'mores just as soon as this rainy weather dies down.
I think he'll like it.
;)
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Today's kinda superdy cool for me... it marks a year(ish) from the day I stood at the finish line waiting for Miss Priss to finish the Sunbury 5K race.
As I watched the runners scampering across the finish line I was overcome with a strange feeling... a hankering that I've never had before... I suddenly wanted to join this club of masochists and try to run a 5K. Oh sure, I'd never run before. Like EVER.
That was the end of September 2010, it took me until November to run a full mile without stopping (it took me 16 agonizing minutes) then I went on to complete the Bridge run which took me 45 minutes to complete. After that it was the Tybee 5k where I squeaked in just under 40 minutes, and I haven't run a timed race since.
But I've been workin' my buns off, running at least 25 miles a week, dropping pounds and building muscles (whoa, WHO the hell am I????)
And here we are. My Full Circle day... I trucked on down to Sunbury and put my toesies on the starting line with a hundred other masochists looking for a good time.
They sounded the horn, and we were off! I was immediately in the back of the pack as the fleet of foot blazed ahead of me and my fellow slow pokies. I shuffled through the Village of Sunbury with Ozzy Osbourne shrieking through my earbuds, passed a few folks who'd decided to walk, and hit the main road feeling damned good. Tom Petty was encouraging me with Mary Jane's last dance as I looked up and saw the one mile marker, glanced at my watch and saw 10:04... holy crap, I just ran a ten minute mile? I'm gonna die if I keep up this pace. I took the turn into Fort Morris, took a deep breath and inhaled the thick piney scent. This is good stuff.
I grabbed a water at the refreshment table, chugged a couple of swallows, and hit the u-turn leading out of the park... uh oh... a hill? Nobody told me there was a danged hill in here. Huff puff, keep on truckin' girl. At this point, the leaders had already lapped me and were probably heading for the finish line, but I kept plugging along, occasionally passing someone as I hit the two mile mark... checked the watch and saw I was still keeping a decent pace.
Gwen Stefani, Josh Turner, MC Hammer... still jogging... getting slower...
And as Third Day hit my earbuds, I looked up and realized the finish line was up ahead. My legs were feelin' great, but my core muscles were begging me to cut 'em some slack. I wrestled my way through as I began to hear the cheers of the onlookers... then, there it was... the red, white and blue rainbow of joy...
I DID IT!!! I ran my Full Circle race, all by myself, and SEVEN minutes faster than the Tybee race back in February!
Yes, I'm smilin' as I finish... yes, I'm faking it because I really want to throw up... yes, I'm slightly proud of myself.
32:20...
Full Circle.
It's a great day!
(Who knows, maybe next year will be under 30?!?!!?!)
;)
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Wild hair #493...
"Let's make those old gourds from last year's garden into ghosts!"
"Okie dokie."
And that's how today's home school art project began.
We gathered several gourds that have been hanging around in the garage waiting for us to use them for birdhouses...
Scrounged up some white spray paint...
And came up with something that looks strangely like our little family...
Look, here's the full family reunion...
Aren't they adorable? We had so much fun deciding what kind of personalities to give the little guys and gals. Now we've got to figure out where to put them... not on the ground for sure... Shady and Sugar have already been eyeing them. Dogs...grrr!!
They're screaming to be hung from the trees in our yard, so I'm guessing we'll be out there with some fishing line tomorrow. Hmmm, art turns into problem solving 101, should be fun.
;)
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This kid of mine...
She's so vain... always taking self portraits...
I mean goodness, do you really have to take SO many photos of yourself?
I just don't understand...
Where does she get it from?
P.S. Thanks TRISH!!!! I L~O~V~E my hair color and cut... you da bomb!!
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Please pass the Icy Hot, I may not be able to tie my shoes in the morning.
Once again, my mother and I got the wild hair to start a major project today. In the past we've flipped houses, taken machetes to overgrown lots, and dug for buried treasure in the cistern (no luck.) However, these days we're more prone to smaller scale adventures (praise the Lord.)
So when my mom looked over from her yard where she was hacking at a bush she'd been eyeing, and saw me holding a shovel in deep contemplation of the ugly, scraggly, tiny petaled azaleas in front of my house, she mosied on over with loppers in hand.
"Whatcha doin?"
"Thinkin."
"With a shovel?"
"Yep."
"Whatcha gonna do?"
"I hate these ugly ass azaleas."
"Me too, let's hack 'em to pieces and transplant them along your property line."
"Okay."
However, we refrained from hacking. Mom's a prune-a-holic, you've gotta be careful or she'll whack down your bush. I'm just sayin'.
But we dug our booties off that's for sure.
Nine big fat scraggly azaleas all came out of the ground and travelled to the back property line in high style...
Then there was more digging...
Oh the rooooots... the cursed, wretched, frustrating ROOTS.
Three hours later, we had the bushes transplanted in their new home.
Then Mom ventured into the woods looking for vines to pull... oh no...
No Mom, noOOooooo... my back has had it!
She's a woman possessed I tell you. No vine is safe. Good thing Tarzan doesn't live here, he'd be really depressed.
Finally, it was time to go home...
Now, will somebody please fix me dinner and put me to bed?
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