Guess Wha’ Today Be?

’tis National Talk Like A Pirate Day!  I looked all o’er t’ find a good translator ‘n I found th’ best one on pirate.monkeyness.com.  I find that when I try t’ natter like a pirate, I end up speakin’ in a really bad Jamaican accent.  I be goin’ t’ keep this short ’cause I be already annoyin’ meself wit’ all o’ th’ apostrophes.

Last night when I went t’ bed, me nose was all stuffed up ‘n I was feelin’ bad…nah jus’ sluggish, but I felt like complete Davy Jones’ locker.  Rory has had a cold since Sunday night ‘n ’twas clear he had passed it on t’ me.  I dosed meself wit’ some Nyquil ‘n went t’ bed.  This mornin’ when I woke up, I didn’ feel much better, but had t’ get th’ sprogs t’ school ‘n ’tis me runnin’ day.

A while back I posted that th’ cure fer a hangover was runnin’.  I ‘ave now discovered that it also cures th’ common cold.  I really didn’ feel like runnin’ ‘n th’ first mile was more than hard, but then it started gettin’ easier ‘n while I only ran 4 o’ me scheduled nigh-on two leagues, I chalked that up as a win.

One slightly disturbin’ thin’ about this, though.  I was lootin’ a shower afterwards ‘n I lost some time.  I be nah sure how much – maybe jus’ a minute or two, but thar was a definite lapse in time.  It kind o’ felt like I fell asleep standin’ up.  I didn’ pass out or feel dizzy, jus’ nah really conscious.  Oh well.  If ye be in th’ medical profession ‘n that’s a sign o’ somethin’ serious, let me know, but I be pretty sure I be OK.

Alright, enough o’ this.  Happy Pirate Day!

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Runners Take Your Marks

Roughly 3 years ago, I set a goal for myself to run 5 miles at under a 10 minute mile pace.  The tough part about this was 1) I lived in Iowa at the time and the weather doesn’t always cooperate.  2) I was going to be doing most of the running on a treadmill because I had a 6 month old baby and a 2 year old at home.

A little less than 6 months after that, I was up to 3 or 4 miles, not quite at 10 minute miles, but close.  I ended up having some health issues (not related to the running) but the running had to be put on hold for about another 6 months.  Less than 5 months after that we moved back to San Diego.  I didn’t really get back to running until January of 2011.

I did OK for awhile but got bored because I was running a lot on the treadmill again.  I would stop running for about a month and then get back to it once I would see the scale creep up 5 or 7 lbs.

I was at my 10 minute mile pace, but even getting 3 miles in was kind of a struggle.  I bought a running stroller so I could run outside with Rory when Kamryn was at school.  That was really hard, but at least I was getting a few miles in during the week.

Somewhere in there, I started running with my brother, Dan.  He runs a lot and has a few marathons and other races under his belt.  I, on the other hand have a total of one race under my belt, excluding any of my junior high and high school track meets.

I. Do. Not. Like. To. Race.  At all.  I get so incredibly nervous that I feel like I’m going to either puke or shit my pants.  It is horrible.  Once I start running, I’m fine, but that anxiety I feel before is horrible.  And it’s not just immediately before – it starts the minute conversation veers in the direction of racing.

I tell anyone that will listen about my racing neurosis, but no one seems to care because my friends and my brother are still suggesting races for me to enter.  I keep turning everyone down and so instead, my brother came up with his own race for me.

Today was my race.  I had to run a 5 mile course in under 50 minutes.  It’s actually like 5.1 miles because my anal retentive brother thinks the markers are off a little bit.  His job was to run with me as my pacer.  I told him to wear the watch and keep me where I needed to be, but I also told him he wasn’t allowed to tell me if I fell behind my pace.  He would just have to make sure I finished where I needed to.

49 minutes and 26 seconds later I finished my race.  I ran seconds under 10 minute miles for the first 4 miles and then my last mile was 9 minutes and 30 seconds.  To say I was happy with my time is an understatement.

Dan’s strategy was to get me to meet this goal – something that I didn’t really know if I could do so my confidence would increase.  Did it work?  Yes.  Have I signed up for a race?  No.  Am I seriously considering it?  Yeah, I think I am.

How Much Pain Can You Take?

I have been playing around with my running lately.  I used to try to run a minimum of 3 miles anytime I went out.  If I couldn’t get a full 3 miles in then I would have to do something else later, like go on a walk.

I was starting to feel like 3 miles wasn’t enough anymore.  The biggest problem was that I would go out on a route that I knew was 3 miles and that was all I would run.  I never went over that.  I started to feel like the 3 miles wasn’t really doing anything for me anymore.  I was still covered in sweat when I got done and was a little tired, but I kind of like to feel exhausted when I get done and I wasn’t.

I decided that I needed to be running a minimum of 5 miles.  I don’t really have a lot of rhyme or reason for my decisions.  Some may ask why not just up it to 4 miles?  I don’t know.  Maybe because 4 is an even number.  Who knows.

Since Kamryn is still on her summer vacation, if I want to run outside, she has to ride her bike and I have to push Rory in a stroller.  There is a nice little lake that just happens to have a 5 mile path around it that isn’t far from us that is perfect for running.  No cars, a wide path and it’s almost completely flat.

I loaded up the bike and stroller and made my brother come with me (to push said stroller) and we were off.  Kamryn was riding along and we were about a mile and a half in when she said she needed to stop.  I asked her why since I knew she wasn’t tired.  She said a bug flew in her ear.  OK, fine – dig it out and let’s go!

We kept on going for about another half mile when Kamryn said she wanted to walk her bike for awhile.  I let her take about 10 steps before insisting she get back on her bike.  I raised the seat a bit on her bike because there are a couple of slight inclines that she needed a little more leverage to get up.

Dan had the idea of handing over the stroller to me (SUCK!) and running ahead with Kamryn so she could keep moving.  Rory and I were running along and he kept pointing things out to me.  I would respond with a “Uh-huh.” which pissed him off.  He yelled, “MAMA, YOU GOTTA TALK!”

Well, shit, Rory, Mama is fucking tired from pushing you in your little chariot and I can’t really carry on a conversation with you right now!  I only said it in my head.

We reached the 3 mile mark and Rory said he had to pee.  I knew he was lying because I made him go right before we left.  Before I continue, I have a little back story from this morning.  Rory was playing in his room this morning and came up to me, a little too calmly and said “I pooped in my underwear.”  I thought he may have sharted so I took a peek in his underwear and found a full on assault of his britches.  He has never done that and I honestly had no idea what to do.  It was all contained in his underwear, but I was at a loss as to how to get them off.  I didn’t want it in the tub so I had him stand on the toilet, straddling the bowl.  I shimmied them off with very little spillage.  *Gag*

Back to the story.  I was a little concerned that the events from the morning would come back to haunt me, but since Rory said he only had to pee, I knew he just wanted out of the stroller.  There are disgusting port-o-potties all around the lake and each and every one has a sign on it warning you of snakes.

I told Rory that there might be snakes in there and he didn’t care, but I still knew he didn’t have to pee so I called his bluff and stopped at the next port-o-potty.  The whole time I was getting Rory out of the stroller, I was warning him that there could be a rattlesnake in there.  Instead of trying to scare my son into staying in the stroller, I should have been paying attention to what else could have been in the port-o-potty.  Like a sweaty little Asian man!

First off, they put locks on there for a reason!  Second, I was outside for a good minute talking about Rory going potty – he could have coughed or something!  I shouted out, “OH!  I’m sorry!”  I threw Rory back in the stroller and took off.  I told Rory that we were not stopping again.

We got about another 1/2 mile when Rory said he was going to poop in his underwear.  Call me crazy, but I wasn’t buying it.  I think enough time had passed and he was over the shock of the little man in the bathroom and he wanted to give it another shot.  I told him he had to wait until we got done.  I had a spare pair of underwear and shorts in case I was wrong, which I wasn’t.

We finally reached our 5 mile mark 54 minutes later and found Dan and Kamryn relaxing in the shade.  Dan had his own struggles with keeping Kamryn going and he told me now he understood why I resisted running with both kids.  I’m not saying I’ll never do it again, but the expectation has been lowered quite a bit.  It kind of sucks when my runner’s high bursts like a bubble because of whining kids.

The Cure For What Ails Me

Some days you just need to eat an entire plate of hashbrowns.  Usually, these days are preceded by a late night of singing karaoke and maybe one or two or seven drinks.

I woke up this morning with a bout of the brown bottle flu.  I popped a couple of ibuprofen, had a cup of coffee and then ran 3 miles in attempt to sweat out any remaining poisons.  I have since had 3 enormous glasses of water and I have to say I feel pretty damn good.

I remember an episode of Oprah where they discussed the best ways to combat a hangover.  It included ibuprofen, water, B12 and eggs.  The first 3 are easy, but I’m picky about eggs.  So instead of eggs, I choose potatoes.

French fries or hashbrowns are my favorite options, but really any kind of potato would do.  I used to eat the canned potatoes a lot when I was in college.  Delicious!  I also kind of like instant mashed potatoes more than the real ones unless the real ones are made with real butter and cream.

This doesn’t always work and I have yet to find a tried and true hangover cure that works for me all the time, but exercising is probably the most successful.  I like to think that I have oodles and oodles of will power and will commit to running after each time I imbibe a little too much, but those 3 miles were hard.

Have you any remedies to cure those pesky morning after katzenjammers?

 

 

Wax On?

A couple of weekends ago we went to a local street fair where a lot of local businesses set up booths and hand out “free” things with tip jars conveniently at eye level or sitting on top of the business cards “so they don’t blow away”.

“Oh, could you hold this tip jar while I get you your complimentary frisbee?  Thanks!”

It wasn’t that bad, but I had a discussion last night with some friends about not having an “Obligation Gene”.  If you tell me it’s free, well, I kind of expect that it be free.  I’m not saying I don’t tip.  I consider myself a pretty good tipper, in fact.  I’m a minimum 20% tipper for all services unless you were completely horrible and then I might drop you to about 15%.  If you were really awesome and I’ve had a couple of drinks, you’ll probably end up with about 30%.

On that same note, if you give me a complimentary Karate lesson and clearly print on the card that attending the lesson entitles me to the class without further obligation, I shall take you at your word.  There are a lot of people that have a hard time saying “No” to people after they have been given something free.  I don’t.  In most cases, I have gotten about 15 minutes of your time and in return, I’m expected to pay hundreds of dollars.  I realize that I am in turn getting a service, but along with that money, I’m also committing my time.

Kamryn has been wanting to take Karate since she was 2.  Seriously.  She watched an episode of Spongebob Squarepants (Yes, we are a Spongebob Family, yes I heard about the study, no I don’t care.) where Spongebob and Sandy Cheeks are told they have to quit Karate, but they think of ways to incorporate it into their daily lives anyway.  Kamryn called the episode “Spongebob Hiii-Yaaa!”  I think the real name of the episode is “Spongebob Karate Choppers”.

Anyway, when we were approached by someone from the Karate Store (a Kamryn-ism) about signing up for a free lesson, I thought it would be a good chance to let her try it out since I am pretty sure both her and I have very incorrect views about what Karate is all about.  I also thought it would be good for Rory.  If Mr. Miyagi taught me anything, it’s that there is a fair amount of discipline and self control implemented in Martial Arts.

I don’t know what it’s called when they hit and kick the pads, but they did that for awhile and then were told to run around the room and to immediately stop with their hands at their sides when the instructor yelled “self control”.  Rory found it hilarious and wouldn’t stop running until he caught up to Kamryn.

Once they were done with their lesson, the instructor came over and said to me “Let’s get them signed up.  We have group class tomorrow.”  Whoa, Trigger, let’s just relax.  For one, I have absolutely no idea what a group class is, whether or not my kids even liked what they just did, what is expected of me and my children or how much you are asking me to pay and there is most definitely going to be an exchange of funds at some point.

I asked Mr. Presumptuous all of my questions above and then politely told him I needed to think about it.  That wasn’t my nice way of saying “No”, I’m really going to think about it.  Besides the expense, there is actually a fairly significant time commitment.  There are 3 classes a week, plus one private lesson for a total of 4 trips to the dojo.  There is no doubt in my mind that this would be good for both of my kids.  None whatsoever.  But I was told that he would want a 3 month commitment for both kids which equates to a whopping $1,200.

When we left, I asked Kamryn if she really liked the class, kind of liked it or didn’t like it at all.  She said she really liked it.  I asked her what her favorite part was and she said, “Running!”  Well guess what?  Running is free.

A Yummy Run

I was out on my run this morning and was feeling pretty good about it.  I was only going about 2.5 miles so I knew it was going to be fast.  Plus, the sun was shining, it was warm and I was hungry.  I’m not using “hungry” in the figurative sense, but in the literal.  I was hungry for food.  Not I’m hungry for a good run.

One thing I like to do is work out when I’m hungry.  I know I’m not tapping into secret fat reserves or anything like that.  I  just feel lighter on my feet and I feel like I can breathe easier.  Sometimes when I run, I get a feeling that I’m going to puke.  I have to keep forcing myself to burp and it eventually goes away.  If my stomach contained even a little bit of food, I fear that I would be yacking it out all over the sidewalk.  I never know when the potential puke fest may happen so I choose not to eat before I work out.

I was about a mile into my run and I heard someone coming up behind me on a bike.  I thought it was odd since I was going against traffic, but whatever floats their boat, I thought.  I glanced over to see this lady run past me.  I didn’t care that she was passing me – I have said it before, I am not a fast runner, but what irritated me was that she didn’t even crack a smile in my direction.  (You can read how I feel about this here.)  Seriously, lady, you are close enough for me to reach out and punch you, the least you can do is acknowledge me.  And for the record, she wasn’t going that  fast.  I could have chased after her, but she turned the corner.  I’m assuming she used all of her energy to pass me and then had to collapse in exhaustion and this was her only escape.  The little world I live in is awesome.

I really didn’t get too worked up about the rude runner because almost immediately after this incident, all I could smell was bacon.  If I am running through a neighborhood, I almost always come across a house that smells like food.  And honestly, 9 times out of 10, it smells like bacon.  I also always run in the morning so people are frying up delicious pork belly and the aroma wafts outside.

Maybe it was because it was Sunday morning and I think people are more likely to eat a breakfast including bacon on a weekend versus a weekday, but the smell of bacon led me all the way home.  Some areas were a little stronger than other, but there was a definite bacon bouquet in the air for over a mile.

This is where my hunger plays against me.  My mouth was watering, I was almost drowning in my own saliva.  But what really sucked, was that I knew when I got home, our own house was going to smell like bacon because right before I left, I made Kamryn eggs and bacon and I gave her the last two slices.

What's a post about bacon without at least one Kevin Bacon reference?