It's Thursday?

I CANNOT keep up with the days anymore. Between the holidays, my husband's days off, and traveling, my internal calendar is done for. I have it on good authority that today is Thursday, and that tomorrow is New Year's Eve. I'll get around to a picture-packed post once life returns to normal, I promise.

Tomorrow is the last day of 2010. Raise your hand if you're as stunned by this as I am. When I was in elementary school, a very dear friend of the family told me something I didn't believe at the time but now know all too well to be the truth: when you are young, a day seems like a year, but when you are older and have responsibilities, a year seems like a day. Wise words, very wise. The years pass like days now, especially since there is a little boy in our lives. Every now and then I catch myself looking at him and wondering how the passage of time must feel from his perspective. I've long since forgotten those days.

I'm not going to make a post about all the resolutions we're making in this house - possibly because I don't want to be rereading this blog in March with my head in my hands thinking I had to have lost my damn mind or needed more caffeine or SOMETHING when those resolutions seemed like a good idea. No sir, I believe in accountability, so you will be left to imagine for yourself what a toddler-herding, treadmill-running (these days, anyway), clutter-despising *HINT HINT* woman such as myself resolves to do in 2011. The spouse, on the other hand, refuses to make resolutions despite my telling him that doing so is, in effect, making a resolution and not issuing his barbaric yawp, middle finger extended, to "the man". At least he gets to save face 6 weeks from now, right?

Days of auld lang syne. Happy 2011, y'all - I'll start the year with a post, or do my best to.

DELINQUENT!

Oh wow. Has it really been since NOVEMBER? I haven't updated since NOVEMBER? Rest assured it hasn't been because I've got nothing to say - that would be on par with the apocalypse. LOL. Or not.

It's December 23rd, and all through our pad
I'm scurrying and working to make the holiday rad.
I need to go run, can I please find the time?
I'll hit up the Y if the kid's feeling fine.
The gifts are all wrapped, the laundry is drying
The toddler is napping and no one is crying.
There's a suitcase to pack, but still wash to be done
A gingerbread latte? Heck yeah, I'll have one!
The ducks, they are thawing
The mail should be here
Can't wait till this evening, I'm having a beer. (or two)

Actually, I'm looking forward to tomorrow. Christmas Eve is my favorite day of the year, without question. Mi esposo is not working tomorrow, which means I get to sneak out of the house early and get some outdoor mileage in.

Speaking of running, which I seem to have on the brain today for whatever reason, I've chosen my next BIG running project.....

The 2011 Philadelphia Half Marathon!!!!!

I got to looking around on running websites and realized race weekend is the weekend before Thanksgiving. How convenient for them to hold that race then, when it's the in-laws' year to have us visit for the holiday! I think I'll be checking that one off my bucket list of run.

With that note, I hear a stirring Snoog. My "me time" has come to an end. Sigh. Mommy duty calls.

Happy Christmas Eve Eve, y'all.

Indulgence

My most wonderful husband is out at the car wash with le Snoog this morning so they can "see the big noodles" (Snoog's words, not the hubs'). I've been left here to indulge in grown-up television and to use an entire roll of paper towels blowing my nose. I've never been so pleased to have spent more money than necessary on paper towels. Grateful for antibiotics, we are. The silver lining is that we're likely to be healthy next week to travel.

At least 2 of us are.
The hubs started sneezing last night.
This doesn't look good.

Another indulgence this morning...a pity party. There is a race packet at a local hotel with my name on it. Had I not had to make a choice between the two races I registered for, I'd be running my second half-marathon tomorrow morning. The right choice is to leave the packet there, to listen to medical advice, to remember that there's not time over the holidays to be non-weight-bearing, to wear a boot, to struggle up and down our stairs with a squirmy toddler who wants to "do it by SELF!". To take care of myself properly. On paper it's easy to choose right. Nevertheless, I'm feeling sorry for myself about it.

The running shoes have been sadly inactive this week. This cold-turned-sinus infection-and-mild bronchitis sucked just enough out of me to make the thought of much aerobic exercise unappealing. To say the least. My frame of mind isn't what I'd like it to be right before the holidays. Despite 3-ish years of recovery, the holidays still make me feel off-balance. Finding peace is a challenge, making peace with myself is even more so. I'd like to put it all aside and focus on something external, like making the holidays a magical experience for the boys in my life.

That's not a good idea.

One of the things I've learned about anorexia, no matter how far removed I become from it chronologically, is that there are days you can close Pandora's box, and days you have to let it open. You have to acknowledge the triggers, because that's the only way you can keep from being buried beneath them. I hate this part, honestly. I know better than to go there, to indulge in those behaviors, yet sometimes during the holidays it's a constant battle to remember WHY.

Indulgence is a double-edged sword, isn't it?

Slackety slack slack, and then he was TWO.

For all the craziness I perpetually feel like I have in my life, I've accomplished tres little this week. I ran ONCE, tried in vain to eradicate/manage/wrangle into submission the clutter that took over my house when I had a child, and attempted to shake loose the cold that's been following me and the little mister around all week.
Can't say I was wildly successful at any of it.

Speaking of the small love of my life, he is now "this many" (holds up two fingers). Amazing that he's been in our lives for two years. Even more amazing that we've all but completely forgotten what life was like before, when we were childless. To be fair, the one thing we remember somewhat painfully is sleep - all night, with occasional naps. Us, not the boy. We got the good word that he's got a spot in the 3-morning 2-year-old class at the school he's been attending, starting in June. My baby...growing up, somewhat without my permission. I've become so conscious of taking note of the hugs, and the snuggles, and the kisses, and the early mornings cuddled in our bed. They won't last forever. I intend to wring every bit of joy out of them that I can.

Running? The aforementioned cold sucked the aerobic capacity right out of me this week, so a measly 4 miles (albeit all at once) is all I can take credit for. Monday I need to get to work training for the 10K I'm doing mid-January. In theory, the training's not going to be too bad, since it's approximately half the distance I put so much effort into. In practice, though, I want to bring my time down, and that's going to take some concentrated work. All the better for keeping the holiday stressmonster at bay, too.

I should come back to this later tonight. We're on a craft/session beer kick around here lately, and there's a fresh new mixed 6-pack in the fridge waiting to be experimented with. Most of it is from Harpoon. I'll tip the glass and let you know what we think.

Happy football Saturday....

FINISHER!

I set a goal.
I researched the best way to achieve it.
I put a training plan into place.
I followed through, even when I didn't feel like it.
I got injured, but didn't let it stop me.

If you can believe it, you can achieve it. On Saturday, October 30, I earned the right to call myself a runner. I am a HALF MARATHONER!!!!!

To backtrack.....the last time I posted, there was a real possibility I wouldn't be running at all. My right fibula, just above the ankle, was trying very hard to break. Long story made short, I essentially had to stop running just about completely with 3 weeks to go before the race. It would be nice to say the hiatus didn't affect my training or my performance, but it affected both. Fortunately, there were just enough miles in the bank for my body to remember what it needed to do.

So, the race report, in probably more details than you thought you needed (but I'll try to keep it brief):

It was chilly in NOLA the morning of the race, that kind of clear, nonhumid chilly the Gulf Coast isn't exactly known for. I got up at 5:15, and since I'd pulled everything together the night before, there wasn't anything to do but fuel up with a PowerBar and get dressed. Chip on shoe? Check. Number on shirt? Check. Dad dropped me off at the start area and I paced around, stretching a little and trying to stay warm. It had been a long time - and by long, I mean since grad school kind of long - since I'd been at a start line to run, not just stroll along for the cure or Christmas or whatever, and I had nervous energy to spare.

We lined up en masse behind the start line and waited for the gun. It was a good 3 minutes before I got to the timing mat, so I had a little bit of a walking warmup and a chat with some people around me. Then it was geaux time....and I crossed the mat and took my first running steps. Slowly, carefully, trying not to go out too hard and burn all my energy before I needed it. It took about a half-mile to find a rhythm and a place in the pack.

Somehow it had escaped me that we'd be running in front of our hotel. Surely the family didn't catch on to that, I'd see them at mile 13. Nope.....I saw a bright purple LSU shirt in the distance and knew immediately it was Dad. He was talking on his phone, and as soon as he saw me, he started frantically pointing up to the balconies. At that point, I got the best lift I could have asked for. There on the 8th floor were my Mom, the hubs, and my sweet boy yelling and cheering for all they were worth. I knew they were proud of me, and I was thrilled to be out there.

I pulled out my earphone to get my times at miles 1-4, and was pleased. Here's where I'm going to condense a bit.

Mile 5: wow, Extra gum. FAIL. And are you serious, there are already people running back toward the finish? Who are these freaks?
Mile 6: my ass...oh God, my ASS. Not kidding, my left buttcheek seized up in a dead cramp. This is unpleasant. I know why, too. We were running down a TERRIBLE street and my leg was starting to hurt, causing me to alter my stride.
Mile 7: Audubon Park is lovely. What a nice run! Perhaps I'll walk a bit here because oh God, my ASS! there it goes again!
Mile 8: Just how big IS Audubon Park? Let's have another GU.
Mile 9: What have I done? May as well keep going forward, it would be an 18-miler for me to turn around and go back the other way. At least I don't have to use the portapotty.
Mile 10: I got married in this church! (the mile marker was literally in the front yard of the church) And oh yeah...take Airplanes off the playlist permanently. No one needs to hear "I could really use a wish right now" at mile 10.
Mile 11: Don't bother, highschooler. I'm not taking my earphone out. Who cares about the split time....because of my ASS!!!!!! can i take off my buttcheek?
Mile 12: looky, it's my friend Colleen! she ran a MARATHON. Surely I can drag this carcass another 1.1 miles. Hand over the gatorade, runner girl, or I'll cut you.
Mile 13: holy crap. HOLY CRAP. i've done it. every muscle below my waist has a cramp in it. but in just a few minutes......

I have to tell you that at this point in the race, two women came up to me, one on either side, and informed me we were all three sprinting the remainder of the race. We would cross the finish line, sprinting, together. I will never, ever forget their faces, even though I have no idea of their names. In that moment, I was superhuman.

And in that moment, I crossed the timing mat and finished the New Orleans Jazz Half Marathon. I took the medal I was offered and fought back the tears. Didn't even think to look at my time. Ultimately, it's not a time I'm proud of, but an accomplishment I'm prouder of than almost any thus far. My Dad found me first, then Mom, then right behind her was my husband with my sweet boy. I'm not sure they've ever been prouder of me than they were then.

And then we went directly to the beer tent........


Seriously, though. It was my first half, but not my last. Running is something I do because I love it. It's not about punishing myself, but about rewarding myself. It's not about losing weight, but about gaining sanity and balance. It's about knowing I can push myself for the right reasons, and about learning more of who I am in the process. I'm a better person, wife, mother, and friend for taking on this challenge. I raised almost $3100 for Children's Hospital of New Orleans. In that moment, I was a rockstar. No one can take that away from me.

(yes, I'm already signed up for more races. 2 5Ks, a 10K, and a 12K, to be precise. the next half? hmmmm. stay tuned.........)

One Week

I should lead into this post with the Barenaked Ladies video, since I've always liked that song. And that band, at any rate.

So yeah. One week. No running at all. I went to see the sports medicine doctor who helped with my plantar fasciitis problems on Thursday. Xrays don't show a fracture (at least not a new fracture; there are a couple of old fractures still visible on film, thank you anorexia), but they do show an area in my fibula - or to be specific, the lateral malleolus - that would like to be fractured. So, no running for a week, and then only a very gradual return following that. I asked categorically if I would still be able to run on October 30...and was told we had every chance at making it happen. It's discombobulating not to be running, but if crossing that finish line depends on me following doctor's instructions to the absolute letter, you can bet that's what I'm going to do.

It's been an emotional week. Besides the couple of days of thinking I had come so far only to be shot down 3 weeks before the run, some news came to me that hit me like a punch to the gut. A dear friend of mine, who moved away from FL a few months ago, got the news that she was going to need to undergo another surgery to remove a recurrence of cancer. She has a 14-month-old son. I miss her terribly, every day. I can't imagine what she's going through, and if I could, I'd be on a plane yesterday to help take care of her and things she and her family need. There have been a lot of tears shed this week, and renewed resolve to get myself out of town after the first of the year to see the sights in Nashville. Or at the very least, to see her. Things were definitely put in perspective. I may not be running this week, and I may not run this race as well as I would have under normal circumstances...but she may be facing the fight of her life - again. Hardly important, my race, under the circumstances.

It's also been a funny week, and a week of a few interesting milestones, around here. Le Snoog has cut 3 of his 4 canine teeth, learned to sing the chorus to Roxanne (you don't have to put on the red light), and learned the word "vagina" well before I was prepared to teach it to him. Only a few short weeks remain before his second birthday. My baby, two years old. Embarrassingly, much less effort has been put into his birthday party than into my half-marathon because they are only a week apart (and the race happens first). Next year, I promise it will be different. I try to make myself feel better by telling myself he won't remember much of this one anyway. I can only hope I'm right. There's always Christmas.

5 more days without running. I will survive, I'm good like that. In the interim, the spin bike is ripe for me to plant my butt on. Fall down seven times, get up eight.

Happy fall weekend, y'all.

Now? Really?

After all the sweat and tears I've put into training, I'm afraid I'm injured.
I'm hoping it's nothing more than transient, but I'm not sure.
I've come so far, and am so close - so, so close - to having the opportunity to achieve my goal.
The idea that I could be out before I'm even in is breaking my heart.

How ironic that it happened during the best run I've had thus far.
Two more days of rest and ice.
I'll let you know.

A Welcome Change of Pace

We spent the weekend visiting the hubs' family and attending a wedding in Pennsylvania. FINALLY, some time out of town, away from the relentless and seemingly interminable Florida summer. Every cell of my being was so, so ready for fall weather. HAHA. It was NINETY degrees yesterday. Much cooler at night, though, than we get here, so we drove around and planned out Friday morning's run and I felt confident I'd be enjoying some better temperatures.

Oh, yes indeed.

It was misty and foggy, but I didn't care because I wasn't drowning in my own sweat for once. I'd heard that running in our summer heat can add up to 2 minutes per mile to your pace on a long run, but really? Amazed? Understatement! Imagine my shock when I realized how quickly I'd covered those almost 11 miles, given that what I lack in speed I make up for in determination. On the whole, the run was a lot of fun. The best word to describe the topography of a typical run here is "flat"...okay, that's not the best word, it's the only word. Friday morning I experienced hills for the first time. I'm not going to tell you I loved them at mile 10, but was it fun? You bet. I realized about halfway through that I wasn't doing the sweaty shuffle, I was RUNNING. Still. Then again, there should probably be some credit given to the fact that pacing is something I've been working diligently to manage..

The lesson from the week is this: the sometimes uncomfortable effort required to go uphill is worth every second when you're flying down, feeling like a champ. That's probably something we'd all do well to remember just in life, period, not just running. It's also the reason you get the wayback playback from the iPod - this song, which I can never resist anyway, showed up as I was tackling the third and final loop of the run. I caught myself mid-fist pump and realized I was singing along as I went from one hill to the next.

We took the little man to a wedding, and he wore a tie, and he danced. We took him to a festival, and he met one of the Phillies and petted a bulldog and saw people playing guitars. We took him for walks, and he picked up "treasures". I'm 4 weeks away from my first half-marathon, and I think I'm ready.

I gotta keep on trying 'til I reach the higher ground.

Defying Gravity

A better title of this post may be "I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends", and that was the way I sat down to write it, but then when I realized I'd played this song 4 times in a row on yesterday's run, it only made sense to share it with you.

Welcome to Downerville, population Me. All week long. I've been emotionally and physically burned out, it's been a long 6 months of training. Trying to pretend I wasn't miserable, ignoring it, not talking about it...not working. I didn't want to spend a bunch of time bitching and moaning on my parenting board, mostly because I have so many friends there who are agonizing over the kind of circumstances life just deals you sometimes, not the ones in which you choose to entangle yourself. Small, almost, and petty to complain about not wanting to run when the post above you is about a baby with cancer or someone who desperately wants to have another baby and can't seem to make that happen. I needed to be petty, though. Sitting in front of the laptop crying doesn't feel good. I didn't expect anyone besides the runners in the group to comment, but you can expect me to be carrying all their words with me on every training run until these two races are over. Between them and my sweet friend who has already been there, done that with training coming to sit with me and talk me through all my anxiety about my training and race day particulars, I went to bed Friday night with a sense of calm instead of a sense of dread. Can you guess how good that felt?

Two miles at a time. Just keep running. One more song. If that song's not working the magic, hit that forward button and make a note to get that song off the playlist. One more song became five, and two miles at a time became eight miles already behind me and you know what, I'm not stopping at 10 because after that there is just one more and I'm ready to get home. Eleven miles done. Feeling strong and settled and determined. Defying gravity.

I'm through accepting limits 'cause someone says they're so
Some things I cannot change, but 'til I try, I'll never know...

More later about things other than running. It's been a great weekend. I'm on borrowed time, though, with a napping Snoogle and chippy toenails. Happy NFL Sunday!

A Most Valuable Lesson

I'm not going to spend a lot of time analyzing today's run in written form. It didn't go well, and I can't think of any reason other than my head just was not in the game. I never found any kind of rhythm, ended up walking at least as much as running, and once it became clear that I was probably going faster walking, I had a decision to make. That's what today's post is about, that decision.

I went home. Yeah, I packed it in at mile 9.5 of what should have been 12. To my credit, I did run the last half-mile or so without a break (which was my deal with myself - if I could finish strong, I could go ahead and put myself out of my misery).

While I was shuffling along after the mile 8 Gatorade break, it hit me that I was just hurting. My legs felt like lead pipes wearing concrete shoes, and suddenly I thought, "Girl, you survived your last bad run, you'll survive this. Do you want to crawl home in tears, hurting so badly that you are no good to your family for the rest of the day and possibly the weekend, or do you want to be kind to yourself?" Stopping when I did was technically only a stop about a half-mile short of last week's 10-miler. There are plenty of long runs left before the taper, and there's nothing to prove today.

Or was there something? There was, when I think about it. Moderation and I are not usually very good friends. I'm sort of a "go big or go home" kind of person. It's hard to be good to yourself when you have that mentality. Black or white, success or failure, no in-between. Eat nothing. Exercise to exhaustion. No room for missing the mark, no extenuating circumstances. That's great when you feel like anorexia's all you've got going for you, sure. It's a fast route onto a locked unit. At this point in my life, there's got to be a touch of grey. I've got to remember that there are times when going all-out is totally appropriate - like on race day - and times when it's not, like today, when I knew my absolute best wasn't going to get the job done (and that continuing was actually risking injury). Kindness seemed the best solution.

It's a decision I'm more or less at peace with. All this "honoring the divinity within me", a divinity that obviously just was not up to running 12 miles today, is new to me and I'll admit I'm still working at being okay with it. The kindest thing I can do for myself now is to do what I need to do to recover from the stress of the morning in the physical sense, and then to allow myself the luxury of putting it behind me and moving on.

Maybe I'm going to be good at being a grown-up someday.

I Think I Can....

No further explanation required. The playlist was good to me today.

The End of an Era (i hope?)

By that, I mean the end of the constant blister debacle. I took myself to the running store this week and was professionally fitted for shoes. Yesterday was my birthday, so I suppose this also refers to the end of 37.

Let's revisit Things I Have Learned:
1. Time stops for no woman. All done 37, hello 38. I have one more birthday before a complete year-long depressive freakout ensues.

2. My husband is the shiznit. We are the proud holders of two tickets to see Anthony Bourdain in November. Sweet....

3. My child has sad, sorry listening skills. Please, please tell me it's because he's staring his second birthday in the face. (despite this, he is also the shiznit)

4. Do you run? GO GET FITTED FOR SOME DAMN SHOES! It's pretty much guaranteed you're not wearing the right shoes. Everything - and I do mean EVERYTHING - I thought I knew about buying myself running shoes was wrong with a big capital wrong. Not even the right size.

5. Running is infinitely more comfy with the shoes you are professionally fitted for.

6. No need to be a hero, speed demon. For real. I'm not the world's fastest runner (which is an understatement), but for some reason this morning I thought I'd put my new sports watch to good use and time my splits. That was a stellar idea when it was in my head. Less so at mile 6. Something tells me miles 6-10 might have gone by much quicker had I not gotten all speedy right out of the house. Ooof.

7. I'm reminding myself of number 6. In all seriousness, this is a potentially race-killing mistake. I've got to hold back that desire to gain time right at the start. I can always make it up later if I save my reserves properly - in other words, if I have some reserves to use. Which I will not, if I repeat today's faux pas.

That about covers it.

By the way....I know some amazing people, and they know some amazing people. Do you remember my blog post about Owen (it's ok, you can go back and look for it and read it now, I don't mind)? Well, my fundraising page went up Wednesday and I've already raised $900 for Children's Hospital of NOLA!!!!! I keep telling Owen's mom how blown away I've been by such generosity. It really is awe-inspiring. I am so proud to be running in support of such a wonderful cause.

Time to go settle in on the sofa for a little College Game Day! Football season is upon us in full force - it's the most wonderful time of the year! We're all geared up and ready to shout "Geaux Tigers" and chant "Who Dat?" with all we're worth. Whatever team you support this season, I hope you and yours enjoy every minute of it, and I wish you a great season and a spot in a good bowl game.

Unless you're a Gator fan.
Then all bets are off.

Happy long weekend!!!

Five Years, or We Remember

What was I doing 5 years ago?
I was glued to the news. I had no idea how much was about to change, and how dramatically.
None of us did, really.

I've written about this before, on my old Myspace page, but I forgot to print it out before I deleted the page so forgive me if you've already read something similar. What I said then was a lot about how the world stopped for so many of us with ties to the Crescent City. If you aren't too familiar with New Orleans, you should keep a couple of things in mind: it's below sea level, and it's a fishbowl. A lot of us - and by that I mean the people who didn't live there - were under the impression that NOLA had somewhat dodged a huge bullet named Katrina. That is, until I came back downstairs, dressed for work, and saw the film of the water just pouring into the city from the breached levee.

My heart dropped into my shoes. Our beautiful, vibrant fishbowl was filling with water, and the tears came like the flooding. I only remember being horrified and texting the husband "the levee's broken, NOLA's flooding, it's BAD" and then being unable to move for a while, unable to tear myself away and hoping I was about to wake up. It only got worse from those first pictures, as you know. So much worse, for so many.

There's a lot of political controversy surrounding the government's response, all the way up from the local to the federal level, and I won't get into my personal thoughts about it. I will say this, though: there's absolutely NO controversy about the swiftness and extent of the response from everyday people, people with no real tie to the city other than as part of the human community. For every person who said there was no point in rebuilding after Katrina, there were - and are to this day - hundreds who stood up and said "What can I do to help you rebuild this amazing city?" You see, we need New Orleans. We need the history, the music, the "laissez les bons temps roulez" spirit, the food (oh have mercy, the food!)....without New Orleans, our country would be missing part of its heart and a large part of its soul.

I need New Orleans. On September 18, 2004, G and I were married there and now it's a permanent part of him too. I've spent time there since I was a little girl. As a Louisianian, it's part of my heritage, part of what I want to pass down to J as what is good and right about life...that freedom to let go of your cares for a while and remember what good music, the hot sun at the Fairgrounds, and a cold one in your hand can do to soothe your tired spirit. It's coming back. People are still working tirelessly to ensure that we always have the Crescent City as a place for all of us to call home, because for a lot of us, it is, whether it's where we get the mail, or where we left our hearts.

It's been five years. We remember you.

Right Now

Find me more motivation....I dare you.....this song is just about as good as it gets for spurring you on to reach a little higher, move a little faster, and generally remember that your life is going to pass you by if you don't get up off the sofa.

Pride. I gots it.
I am 8 weeks out, 7 if you count the taper, and today I ran 10 miles.
I plan to train to 12 miles and let the adrenaline of race day carry me the last 1.1 mile.
After the past two weeks of dejection and self-doubt, I NEEDED today. This morning's run started out with something to prove, and I came home tired, but feeling confident that I'm going to cross that finish line. As if it needed to get better, there is a glimmer of possibility that I may beat my time goal.

So what did I do right?
I have really been working to improve my hydration this week, particularly yesterday. I am no longer any fun on Friday nights, it's a couple sips of wine and off to bed early. I drove the route yesterday and (thanks for helping via phone, Mom!) marked off 2-mile intervals for gatorade drops. Nothing like dropping bags of ice, water, and gatorade in people's yards at 5:50 in the morning - I was waiting to be cornered by someone's territorial dog... All my clothes, deodorant, the whole nine yards were set out before bed last night. An entire powerbar for breakfast, one final potty run, and I was out the door. In a bit cooler temps, just so you know.

What a huge, huge psychological advantage not to have to worry about water or electrolytes! I knew the run would be broken down into 2-mile chunks, just like race day, and I could just do them and tick them off, one by one. A perfect strategy, to focus on something small rather than one large, sweaty, tiring block of running. The mystery of the morning was how I managed to run the first 2 miles at a pace MUCH FASTER than I typically run, even on the dreadmill. I'm pleased, because it means I may be able to spend time working on speed instead of just cranking miles out, but it can be a concern because going out too fast on race day can ultimately kick me where the sun don't shine. Do you need to run faster? Add this to your playlist: Don't Rain On My Parade from the Glee soundtrack.

At any rate, I have the rest of my weekend to enjoy and I'm hungry enough to eat a burrito the size of Guatemala. I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend too, burrito or not.

Right now
It's your tomorrow
It's everything
Catch that magic moment, do it right here and now
It means everything.....

(and yes, right now a bowl of soup would be nice)

The Funsucker.....

That's been me these past couple of weeks. In terms of running, I mean.

There's an under-the-weather Snoog in the house at the moment. Typical toddler cold. He's not so sick that he has to lie around the house in his jammies, but he's not so well that he sleeps all night by himself (who am I kidding? Child doesn't sleep all night by himself when he's perfectly healthy, but that's another post). The executive decision was made that he was going to go ahead and spend this Tuesday morning as he usually does: at school. No fever, no coughing, no copious snot, so off he went. I figured I'd spend Tuesday morning as I usually do - at the Y taking a class, with a run afterward to build up my mileage for the week in an effort to improve my performance on the weekends.

I didn't have a lot of time to spend running, but I managed to get in a very comfortable couple of miles. Along the way it became clear what my problem has been for these past couple of weeks: I have become the funsucker. There was a time in my training when I was running because I enjoyed it, and then I started getting all concerned about pace per mile and how fast other people were running the same distance and being a purist about NO WALKING (backfire!)....and I started feeling anxiety and dread every time it was time to run. No more fun, just work work work. I lost sight of the idea that I should be ENJOYING this - that race day isn't part of my job, that it's going to be FUN.

Suddenly it was time for me to hop off the mill and retrieve the kiddo. As I was walking to the car - in the pouring rain, lovely! - it occurred to me how much I enjoyed those easy couple of miles and how much better I felt. No need to criticize my performance or wonder what I should tweak for the next run.

I take that back. Next run, I need to remember to have fun.

Silence is Golden

Let's not discuss today's run.
Let's just leave it with a song I love.

This S**t is BANANAS....

Sums up yesterday's run nicely. Hmmph.
Shall we revisit Things I've Learned? Here you go:

1. Long runs on treadmills? B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Granted, it was out of necessity, but really. Sing me a lullaby now.
2. I can come up with a LOT of reasons to stop running, particularly between miles 3 and 6.
2a. I hate miles 3-6.
3. It's too close to call - am I just that mentally tough that I didn't quit, or am I just too bloody stubborn?
4. Clif Shotblox = vaguely cough-syrup flavored, but the caffeine is a nice touch.
5. The towel! Your nice gym towel does you no good at home on your kitchen island, just so you know.
6. Sometimes you keep running because it feels. so. good. when you stop.

I remember having to push through a big plateau when I got to a 4-mile long run. Is it possible that I'm having mental blocks in 4-mile increments? There was so much anxiety surrounding this week's long run (the dreaded 8-miler, round 2), and I'm not entirely sure why. Now that I'll be moving up to 9 miles this coming Saturday, I'm not feeling quite as much stress. Check back with me later in the week on that.

One thing giving me grief this week is the concept of goals and (possibly unrealistic) expectations. Because there never seems to be any sense in starting a project haphazardly, without a clear delineation of what I intend to accomplish, I set a bar for myself when I started training for this race. It's possible that I was a little, um, hasty when I set it. Suffice it to say I'm not feeling too good about my chances of living up to my own standards, and suffice it to say that's not sitting well. Somehow I'm having trouble wrapping my head around two ideas here: that for every person out on that road on that October morning, there are beaucoup more people sitting at home on the sofa; and that just getting my rear in gear and running 13.1 miles is an accomplishment in and of itself, no time goal required. Only the finish matters. I can't stand the thought of letting myself down, which is what I'm afraid of. The path out of my head is not clearly marked right now, and I'm stumbling around in here, and it's a bad neighborhood sometimes.

So yeah. This s**t is bananas.

*SQUEE*

psst.
hey....
take a lookyloo at my widget.

sweet.

Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

Say what you want about Kanye, he's good for two things: a good laugh, and a great running tune. This brought me home this morning. Can I tell you how thrilled I was to hear the first notes of Daft Punk when I needed them?

I've gotten geeky about running lately. There's a website you should check out if you run (www.mapmyrun.com), where people post their routes and distance and occasionally even some comments about the terrain/grade/scenery. It wasn't too hard to find the distance I needed in my neighborhood, so I abandoned the full sun and relentless concrete of Bayshore Boulevard for a much shadier, more comfortable run today. Should have done it some time ago, now that I think about it. I've realized I'm more than "halfway to the half" now - with just under 3 months to go.

Unfortunately, I've also had more than one flash of "what the hell am I thinking? I can't do this! This is too much, I won't finish, or my time will be an embarrassment." I may have to walk through the water stations - in fact, straight up I PLAN to walk through them so I don't spill the water! - but I've got to deal with these negative thoughts that could sabotage my run on race day. What I'm told is that I need to not only visualize myself at the finish line, but that I need to visualize myself overcoming obstacles along the way. Things like heat, thirst, negative self-talk, and fear. I CAN do this. I WILL do this. It may not be easy or comfortable every step of the way, but I am training to the best of my ability, using a program that is shown to work, and because I will be prepared, I will be prepared to succeed.

Basically, I'd rather wipe the sweat from my face with the towel than throw the towel in. I don't quit well.

Harder, better, faster, stronger....indeed.

And In My Spare Time...

Today I have already:

Fed and dressed myself and a small boy.
Taken small boy to school.
Taken myself to the Y to do my weekly speed/tempo workout.
Sorted the laundry and started what will be the first of 3, possibly 4, loads.
Showered, dried/ironed hair, made halfhearted attempt to clean up eyebrows, made halfhearted attempt to fix mangled cuticles.
Abandoned those last two efforts on the grounds of hopelessness.
Picked up small boy from school and put him down for nap. He is not sleeping.
Eaten lunch while seated, without someone on my lap.

Today I still need to:
Finish that laundry - including folding and putting it away.
Straighten up kitchen.
Polish fingernails and check toenails for chips.
Take small boy out of the house for some kind of activity that doesn't require time outside.
Dress myself and small boy for big husband's work "family dinner".
Leave the house on time to be at dinner - across the bridge - for 5:30 reservation.

And they say moms who stay home with their kids don't work.
I've got your "I don't work" right here......

Keep On Rollin'....

I added this to my playlist this week. It wasn't easy choosing the video of the week - you almost got my love of Gwen Stefani - and even though this song came up early in the run this morning, the sentiment is too good to pass on. You don't like something? Get rid of it. Something in your life is broken? Fix it. You are the only one who knows what YOU need, and ultimately, YOU are responsible for your own happiness.

That, and this is one hell of a great song.


Keep on rollin' (or runnin'), everybody. Stay cool, drink ya watah, it's hot out there.

If It's Thursday...

It must be pizza!
Yep, Thursday nights are pizza nights here. Organic 9-grain crust, all-natural pizza sauce, organic mozzarella (thank you, Whole Foods, for being my second home), and whatever toppings we're in the mood for. Lately we've been on a chicken/ground turkey, black olive, portobello mushroom, and onion run. Yum. I'm about to throw the crust in the oven for a bit to crisp, but I felt like sitting here in the quiet that only a house with a sleeping child and a husband upstairs reading Phillies news on the computer can afford. So here I sit. Ahhh.

I'm excited right now. A dear friend's birthday is today, and unfortunately we've both been so busy for the past couple of months we've hardly been in touch. I got to talk to her this morning for a while, and it started the day off perfectly. Not only is she doing well, but we've decided to run the St. Petersburg Women's Half Marathon together in November. I can't wait to spend some time with her. It's a friendship I've missed. To make things even better, a couple of girlfriends from my former gym are going to run with us! How much fun is it going to be to go to the expo with girlfriends - to focus on friendships and running for that weekend? All just a quick drive over the bridge, and all the hubs and boy will need to do is stand on the side of the road and cheer us on. Win-win, in my opinion. I've missed my friends dearly. That's one of the toughest parts of motherhood. The life you had pre-baby tends to fall to the wayside.

Speaking of happy, and of motherhood, I'm also jazzed to be having lunch tomorrow with a girlfriend I don't see often enough. She's expecting her first child, a daughter, and the last time I saw her she had not even told her family. She'll be the beneficiary of two ginormous boxes of maternity clothes! Pay it forward, right? I'm so happy for this couple. They have waited so long for this, and will be wonderful parents.

Training is going well. Today's speed/tempo workout showed me that my hard work is paying off. For those of you who don't run, or who aren't training for something in particular, speed and tempo work is a good way to increase your endurance and pace for a race. I do mine the way many people do: 5 minute walking warmup followed by an easy (conversational pace) mile, followed by alternating quarter-miles of just-about-as-fast-as-I-can-hold-without-dying and slightly above easy pace for 2 miles, then tempo - which is the pace I'd ideally like to maintain for most of the half-marathon - for a half-mile or so, and ending with either more slow and easy or just straight to walking. I like this workout day, which alternates between Monday and Thursday, because it's mentally engaging. It's treadmill, but it's in no way mindless. My interval speed is picking up, as is my tempo. I like this a lot.

Oh.....and I bought a silly visor today. No more hothead hathead for this girl. I'd have just ditched it for sunglasses, but I have a bit of sun paranoia so I need to shade my face. Don't bother mentioning that I live in Florida and have sun paranoia. I get it, LOL. (insert winky smiley here)

And somehow it all comes back around to the pizza. Which, just for my own edification, isn't going to cook itself. I love that I can cook and eat pizza now.

Happy Friday eve, whatever you're eating.....

Weekly Playlist

White trash edition.
I ran like a champion to this today, despite the ridiculousness.
Give it a try.....get in the pit and try to love someone!

It's Good to be Humble....

This morning I loaded up and took off for my long run. Another 6 miles to conquer in the heat. Today my route took me off the beaten sidewalk over a couple of bridges into a part of town where I don't normally run. It was marvelous. I struggled up the bridges (because we have no hills, I run up small bridges) just for the unbridled joy of going fast-fast down them. There was a brief respite from the sun and headwind, and I realized at one point that I was - for me, anyway - flying. "Now," I thought, "now I can call myself a runner."

All that changed once I came back over the final bridge and hit the home stretch. I'd had the foresight to stop at both water fountains on the sidewalk side on the way out, and was smart enough to hit them both on the way back. Having removed my hat and soaked it in the water once again (only to carry it, stupid thing, I only wear it now because my cute-girl sunglasses are ridiculous for running), I began to tick off my landmarks to carry me the rest of the way. I had another thought coming.

"Right about now, I should see it up ahead," I told myself. Um, no. Maybe just a little farther? Have I miscalculated? Once I get to the trashcan, surely I'll see the first neutral-ground water fountain. The trashcan came and went, and there was no water fountain in sight, only a sad orange cone where a water fountain should be, and was. Maybe a little more, to the next trashcan? Negative, soldier. Another cone, and still no water fountain. By this point, I'm miserable and thoroughly in need of water. Walk breaks begin to ensue. I've begun to realize that there are no more water fountains on the neutral ground, that the city has removed them all, and I am in tears because I. Am. Thirsty. More thirsty than I think I've ever been. I can't go anymore. I have bonked.

Somehow I made it back to the car, sans water. I was humbled by a 6-mile run this morning. Fortunately there is a convenience store about a half-mile from the parking lot...I think I drank that bottle of Gatorade faster than I've ever ingested anything. Needless to say, we hit the running store this afternoon for a water belt for me to use next week. 22 ounces of cold goodness, thankyouverymuch, because next weekend it's SEVEN miles. I will not be humbled like that again.

On another note, our weekend started off with a thud. Le Snoog somehow contracted his first tummy bug, and I was on vomit patrol all day yesterday. It's amazing how dirty and nasty you feel by the end of the day when you take care of someone who can't keep down 2 teaspoons of water at a time. The worst part of it was seeing him afraid of what was happening - having your stomach contents forcefully ejected is disturbing under the best of circumstances. On the upside, for the past two days I've had the joy of holding Hurricane Toddler in the recliner as he napped. I don't get to hold him the way I used to when he was an ittybitty, and I treasure the moments when he melds his warm little body with mine and dozes off. I've never had anyone love me the way this child does, and it's awe-inspiring. So what if I had to fold my stinky, wet, nasty, sore, dehydrated body into a very uncomfortable position to accommodate him? It was worth the pain getting up - every step.

For both of us, I guess, that which did not kill us made us stronger.

I'd Like to Introduce You....

to Owen.



Owen is a cute-as-a-button toddler, just shy of his second birthday. His Mommy and I met in an online pregnancy forum; our boys were born just a few weeks apart, and as a bonus, we are both Louisiana families. He's got all the bustling energy a happy little dude should have, and then some.

Here's the thing, though: you'd never know it from his bright eyes and big smile (and off-the-charts height!), but Owen was born with congenital heart disease. He has a constellation of heart defects known as Shone's Complex.

At 19 days old, Owen had closed-heart surgery to repair aortic coarctation. The surgeons successfully performed an end-to-end anastomosis (in regular English, they cut the narrow section of his aorta out, and sewed the remaining two sections back together). He has defects in both his mitral and bicuspid valves. Every six months, Owen undergoes testing to check the efficiency of those valves, and when the gradient reaches a certain level,a procedure is done - balloon valvuloplasty, if you like medicalese - to reopen the valve. At three months, Owen needed that procedure. Despite the fact that his mitral valve is "funky looking" (according to his surgeon), it's getting the job done for now, which is a blessing.

Unfortunately, Owen will be undergoing open-heart surgeries in the future. He will inevitably require more valvuloplasties, and when they have caused enough leakage in the valve, they will have to repair it. Once the repairs no longer hold, the valve will need to be replaced. The hope is that Owen won't need these replacements until he is at least 12. If he should need one before then, the procedure is much more complicated and will ultimately disease another of his heart valves. The Ross procedure would replace his aortic valve with his pulmonary valve, and replace his pulmonary valve with a replacement tissue valve. So as you can imagine, while Owen is doing beautifully for the time being, he and his family know that there is likely to be a bumpy road ahead.

Why do I think it's so important for you to meet Owen?

Owen is a patient of Children's Hospital of New Orleans. The proceeds from the New Orleans Jazz Half Marathon benefit Children's, and I am proud to be running for Owen. My participation and any fundraising I am able to do along with it helps assure that Children's will be able to continue to provide quality care for Owen and others in need. Soon, I should have details as to how YOU can help, even if you never lace up a shoe or run a single step.

I'm running in the hope that Owen will always be able to run.

Motivation at Mile Three

Props to my sweet friend Keri G., who reminded me why I NEED this song on my playlist. Put it on yours, too.

High-Five for Air Conditioning

It's Florida.
It's July.
It's HOT. Stickily, muggily, oppressively HOT. Even at 7 in the morning, which is when you better have your shoes laced up and your iPod at the ready if you're planning to do any running. Never mind that this morning I had 6 miles of running on the agenda. I'm almost halfway to 13.1....amazing.

At any rate, it's been a long, air-conditioning-dependent week. Here are some things I've learned:

1. If you are going to get stuck in a rainstorm with a toddler, open play at Gymboree is the best possible place to do so. Don't expect them to continue playing, though, because what you're actually going to get is an entire roomful of toddlers with their sticky hands and faces pressed up against the window watching the rain. Oh well.

2. When you are a toddler, "up" means "down", and "down" means something you aren't telling your parents. Keeping them in the dark allows you to scream indignantly when you are put down, even though you clearly articulated "DOWN NOW" more than once. This is great fun for YOU. Not so much for them.

3. There is such a thing as a good $11 bottle of Pinot Noir. Seriously. It's called Block No. 45, and it's from San Martin, CA. Look for the 2008 vintage. I'd post a pic, but for some reason I'm having trouble getting pics to come up. If you like pinot noir, you need to give this one a shot. We got it at Whole Foods (no surprise, since I've started to feel like i LIVE at Whole Foods), I'm sure you can look it up and find it somewhere.

4. Eating after you run is a good thing.

5. Caipirinhas in the afternoon are also a good thing.

We're taking the boy to a birthday party tomorrow afternoon. The birthday season is upon us, and will carry us through December. I realized today that August is just around the corner, and with August comes the beginning of my favorite time of year. There may not be a discernible change of season in Florida, but there is a notable shift in attitude. Football is upon us, the good apples are in the grocery store, Halloween costumes are ordered, and there's not much I like more than fall.

Except winter.
But I'll settle for not having autumn weather, since the absence of winter is more depressing than I care to think about.

Carry on.....

Playlist Highlights

Nevermind the cheesy Miami Vice scenes here, unless you like that sort of thing (not that there's anything wrong with that!)...this is probably one of the most motivational songs on my iPod, so I love when it shuffles into the long run's playlist. I was lucky enough to get it yesterday morning. As ridiculous as it may sound, fresh off a soundtrack and several LSU Tigers football championship highlight videos later, this cover has always been a "recovery song" for me. Hearing it now transports me forward to an October morning in New Orleans, when I'll take that last step across the finish line and know that I can accomplish something that has nothing to do with being thin.

"I was there and I saw what you did,
I saw it with my own two eyes...
so you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been -
it's all been a pack of lies.

I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord
And I've been waiting for this moment for all my life..."

I'm waiting. I can almost taste it.

Thoughts

1. I have so many pictures here that need to be hung up. Why are they not hung up yet?

2. I need to go to the running store and try on some new shoes and socks. I'm tired of the lining in the heel of my precious Mizuno Wave Riders splitting and exacerbating my frustrating blister issues. I love those shoes, but man. They cost too much money for me to have to plaster the heel lining with big bandaids or moleskin.

3. I also need new running socks. Maybe. Why do I keep getting blisters?

4. Why does my child turn into a Crabby Patty after naps? Why does he always go into his tent to poop? The huzbin now refers to the tent as "the outhouse".

5. Bathroom attendants are silly. At 37 years old, getting my own paper towel is something I can do, even with one $12 vodka tonic (!!) and one glass of pinot noir on board.

Discuss.

You Should Run To This

Seriously, you should. You should probably run to the majority of their music. Have you not seen the show? You should do that too....AFTER you run, of course.

Good Morning, Sunshine

Well, not really. When I hit the pavement this morning it was a few blessed degrees cooler and sprinkly, with a nice breeze (please read that as "damned headwind on the 'out' stretch of a long run"). I managed to break my miles-per-run plateau on Thursday, so today my challenge was to run without letting my mind interfere, and to allow a couple of small walking breaks if I needed them. Task A was more challenging than task B. Over the past week I've done some reading up on strategies to use to counteract the little negative voice. Oddly enough, they were helpful. I have to say this, though...3 hours post-run I still couldn't figure out why I was having trouble keeping my face off the kitchen island.

No coffee.

I can only assume it's a rookie mistake.

Simple Pleasures

I like to watch my son. Unless I insist, he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to be doing with his whole almost-20-month-old self at any given time. When he wants to read, he brings me a book. When he wants to run, he runs. When he wants to stop doing whatever it is that no longer holds his interest, he simply stops and moves on. He lives in the moment. It's a skill we lose somewhere along the way, and that's a shame.

Lately, I find myself trying to make note of the simple pleasures in my life - the moments I realize time has passed without my notice because I've been totally engrossed in something, the unadorned joy of freeing myself from external distractions. The list is growing, and I'm taking great pleasure in that. Just a few from the week:

Sharing a (yes, organic, thankyouverymuch) vanilla milkshake with the boy at lunchtime.
Focusing on the music coming through my headphones and the memories associated with it and then noticing how much distance I've covered on the treadmill.
Listening to my boys breathing, early in the morning, wrapped in blankets in the dark just before first light.
Feeling like the bike I'm riding and I are one and the same as I push myself up a hill in spin class.

I've noted so many, yet I wonder how many I've missed. Such a shame that I spent so many years denying myself the simplest of pleasures and the joy of so many sweet memories. Sometimes I grieve for all those unacknowledged moments, which hurts a lot, but it doesn't do me any good to stay in that headspace for too long. Continuing to mourn all the moments I missed would only keep me from participating in the moments I'm given now, here, today. The best I can offer myself is forgiveness for not knowing any better, and permission to leave it behind me and live the life I've been blessed with. This toddler-chasing, laundry-folding, running, laughing-with-my-husband life.

Amen.

How times have changed....

Le Snoog and I made the Monday Pilgrimage across the bridge today to eat lunch with Le Hubs. Lately, each time we make that drive, I'm struck by the number of panhandlers standing at the intersections. It used to be that you'd maybe see one or two here or there at major corners, nothing like in larger cities. Now it seems like there is someone on every corner, all four sides of the intersection, at every large intersection and more often than not, a couple of people at the smaller corners as well.

We saw a woman today holding down the fort at one side of a large intersection. The sign she was holding, written with black marker on cardboard, said "I Have Not Ate In 31 Hours" (and yes, that is a direct quote). My first thought about that embarrasses me. Back in the day, 31 hours without eating was no big deal to me. It was a goal I took a lot of pride in achieving, and then some. Frankly, I thought I was better than anyone who couldn't, by choice, make it at least that long. Eating represented the ultimate weakness, a giving in to something I should be able to overcome by sheer force of will. Maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise to me, after living 20-some-odd years working at disappearing, that the first thought that came to mind when I read that sign was "Well, THAT'S no big deal." I'm not saying I'm discounting her hunger, or that I think it's a sad commentary when people are standing at street corners telling you in writing how long it's been since they've eaten...what I'm saying is that I'm now at a point where I can see it as a sad commentary.

I chose those 31 hours. If she truly hasn't had anything to swallow other than pride for the past 31 hours, I suspect it's not by choice. It makes me wish there were more I could do for her...but it also makes me realize how times have changed. I have eaten by choice today. I will eat by choice again today. I no longer see the fact that someone else has not as something that makes me the weaker person, or something to be happy about.

Sometimes it's the things you wish you hadn't seen that remind you to be grateful for them.

Silent Sunday

I get it. Most people do Wordless Wednesday. I've been posting from the laptop downstairs, and that's not where my good pictures are. So, Silent Sunday it is.

What I Ran To Today

I'm running a half-marathon in October.
The New Orleans Jazz Half-Marathon.
Then I'm running another here 3 weeks later.

Note I didn't say "I'm training for a half-marathon." I think that gives me the option to back out later. So while I certainly AM training for it (otherwise there's no point), I'm not allowing myself the opportunity of the negative thought.

During the week, given the time of day I'd have to run, most of my runs are treadmill runs. Not a bad situation, really, because I have water/fan/TV/insert convenience here to occupy me and make me more comfortable. Every mile I run on weekends is run outside, though. Believe me when I tell you there are days I regret picking a race date that insists I sweat my sorry ass off all summer in the Florida heat to get the job done. Then I remember EVERY run outside involves Florida heat. Meh. It's a nice scenic run, honestly it is, and it's crowded with people running, biking, pushing their kids in strollers, and walking their dogs. But it's not exactly comfortable. My lingering body image issues prevent me from wearing shorts to run, which means my running garb automatically puts me at a disadvantage in terms of enjoyment. This is something I've just learned to accept. There aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done that has to be done and take extra time to work on body image. I'd rather the feeling of accomplishment at the end of the run than the stress of trying to make that change and being utterly miserable doing it.

All in all, and despite the fact that I seem stuck at a miles-per-run plateau - at least outside - right now, this morning's run was a good one. 4 miles of peace and quiet. Run, Mommy, run.

I'm running a half-marathon in October.

No Wine Before Its Time

This has been quite a day, to say the least. Consider it an understatement to say I was in serious need of the fruit of the vine this evening. Despite the fantastic spin class I was lucky enough to curse the instructor through this morning (and thank you, Angela!), my happy Friday-ness was stomped on by a stomping, non-napping, grumpy potty-learning toddler who wanted only to put on his new underwear and watch Laurie Berkner. Again.

Which, for the record, was nothing a trip to Whole Foods - from whence the vegan chocolate-chip and oatmeal raisin cookies, and free stinky cheese samples (my God, he's his mother's son) come - couldn't remedy. Mostly, anyway.

In July of 2007, the hubs and I had the good fortune of taking a week-long trip to San Francisco, Napa, and Sonoma. As we were driving back to our hotel in Healdsburg one hot afternoon, we stumbled upon Peterson, a small boutique winery. It was closing time and there was only one person in the tasting room, but she was kind enough to stick around and pour - overpour, maybe? - and talk about the wine with us until we needed to head back. We left with hearts full of good cheer and a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc for the Independence Day concert in the park...and a wine club membership. Fortunately for us, every 3 months we get a lovely package from Peterson Winery, and tonight we broke out the Father's Day gifts (a Sharper Image wine chiller and Vinturi aerator) and enjoyed a 2007 Peterson Zinfandel/Petit Syrah. NICE. I've missed my reds. It's too hot here to drink them right now unless they're at cellar temperature, so the chiller may make me happier than it does the man. Ahhh.

At any rate, for the moment Turkis Jones is lost in dreamland and I am firmly rooted on my sofa watching ESPN news and enjoying some really, really tasty vino. I should enjoy this while I can, considering that 6:30 will come early tomorrow and I will have miles to run, despite the heat.

Happy weekend, everyone.

He Sleeps.

Geez, child. Finally.
My turkey lurkey loo (or as he would say it, Tur-tey Woooooooo) had "school" this morning. It's always a challenge to get him down for a nap on school days. Today was particularly interesting, since i was treated to the following:

Counting 1-20, on repeat.
"Twinkle Twinkle", on repeat.
"No Dia-poos Meeeeeee", on repeat. (this is a sentence from his book about going to the potty)
A near-complete emptying of all the crib's current occupants, minus the child and - i'm assuming - his sleepysheepy and Goat.
All that, and I think he ran a half-marathon on his own going from corner to corner.

He sleeps, at least for now. My funny boy.

You Don't Know Meeeeeee.....

But you will, if you don't mind reading some babble.

Stick around and you'll hear about my adventures with my toddler, my husband's snarky sense of humor, my never-ending mission to find the best wine possible under $15 a bottle, and the nonsense that runs through my head on my journey to 13.1.