My 5-Miler playlist for the Wild Rover Series

Two down, one to go of the 3 part Wild Rover Series. When you do all three, the medals snap together and make one HUGE medal! Yeah!

As I anticipate next week's 5 mile run through my own lovely Lowell, I am hopeful to bust out some 10-11 minute miles with my rockin' playlist. And as I write about my 10 minute miles I recall the female winner of all races so far who trots past, gazelle-like, winning with her 5 minute miles. Ahh. I admire that grace and elegance when running. I shuffle my ass, trudging and slapping my feet on the ground, red-faced and huffing. But no matter, I think, at least I am there and alive and not sitting on my couch or smoking cigarettes or shooting drugs or any number of other horrible life choices I could have made. I feel good when I run and am free enough to admire and enjoy the grace of the running masters rather than be jealous of it or feel badly about myself. I celebrate them and all of us pack-of-the-packers. And the thing that gives me most momentum is envisioning the faces of my kids as they cheer me on, 

"Go Mummy Go!" 

The Playlist: for a 5mile run with 10-ish minute miles. 53 min. 

1.  Rocky 1 Theme. (yes, I know)
2.  Ex's & Oh's - Elle King
3.  Dangerous  - Big Data
4.  Hips Don't Lie - Shakira
5.  It Takes Two - Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock
6.  S.O.B.  - Nathaniel Rateliff & the Night Sweats
7.  VooDoo Lady - by Ween
8.  Royals - Lorde
9.  World Destruction - Afrika Bambaataa feat. Johnny (Rotten) Lydon
10. Over the Hills and Far Away - Led Zeppelin
11. Skokiaan - Louis Armstrong
12. Rocky 1 Theme - (again, for emphasis)
13. Push It - Salt-n-Pepa

"It's got a funky beat and I can bug out to it"

Was James Abbot McNeill Whistler a Timelord?

Nocturne in Blue and Silver 1872 Oil on Board

http://ids.lib.harvard.edu/ids/view/17386501?width=3000&height=3000

Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Bequest of Grenville L. Winthrop 1943.176

Our Boundaries, Our Eggshells

So, being that a certain member of my family is a toddler, we spend a lot of time discovering the boundaries of what is acceptable behavior and what isn't. 
On this particular day I was in the kitchen cooking and had a bunch of cracked eggshells in the trash. LittleBoy came up and started poking around in the trash, which I told him not to do. He then looked at me dead in the eye with a little smirk and wiggled one little finger around in the trash to test my response. 

I said, "LittleBoy, are you pushing your boundaries here?" He giggled and walked away for a bit.  
He quickly returned and started poking at the eggshells again. 
I said, "LittleBoy...What are you doing?"
He said, "Mummy - I want to touch my boundaries?"   
                                
                     Eggshells = Boundaries. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

High School Reunion Panic

I’d rather have a juicy bum than lung cancer!

Weekend run. The jiggling mass of my post-Halloween binge wags around in front of me despite layers of compression clothing.  I have never eaten this much candy before. We’ve never gone trick-or-treating before! Gross gross gross. It’s actually, probably really not that bad but I have a sugar hangover bloating and lethargy and am beating up on myself for over-indulgence. I typically don’t keep that shit in the house. The kids like sweets but they are not a part of our daily life. Thank goodness. I won’t have anymore now. Now it’s time to strip down, pair down, back to basics boot camp style for two weeks to tone up a bit for the...drumroll, please…..20 year High School Reunion! Scream!!! Oh my god!!! I bought a dress. It looks good. It’s going to look better after I start 5:30am yoga and carb aversion. Why do we do this? Because we do. I shouldn’t worry. I have spanx. But there it is. Two years, almost 3 now. Ok 2 years and 10 months after Anna and I have yet to lose that goddam last 10?15? lbs of baby weight. I know, I know, I complain and run and train and starve and overeat a megaton of candy, yes. All those things are true. But surely it’s got to be something much more exotic than impending middle age and a retarded metabolism. (And I mean that in the absolute literal sense of the word). Let me go over my mundane laundry list of activity: two sprint triathlons, a Spartan, a half-marathon, countless 5ks, zumba, walking, yardwork, housework, dancing and squats and crunches and nothing. Then I gave up. Then I was fine with it. Now I am playing into the typical American- woman-with-impending-high-school-reunion-hysteria-bullshit that I must immediately become 10 years younger and 20 lbs thinner.   I thought of all this and considered, “Should I start smoking again?”

via GIPHY

What a load of crap, I say. NEVER!!! I quit smoking! I’ll take the extra poundage and the juicy rump if it means I can run, sing, laugh and play year after year with my kids instead of huffing around, thinner yet wrinkled and stinking and suffocating, unable to breathe and wishing for the bajillionth time that I could give up smoking. I will nestle into my extra butt and congratulate myself on that, at least. And since, high school, that is truly one accomplishment I never thought I could achieve.  And the lack of wrinkles from quitting smoking is a bonus. And the fact that I RUN a 5k instead of SPENDING 5k on goddam ciggy butts.

HA-HA!!! Victory!

Triumph!

Success!

and….SPANX!!!

Why I Run

I haven't run for a while, cuz I straight up have not felt like it. I've had other things to do, house projects, yardwork, social obligations, etc. And I started getting this weird rapid heartbeat in the heat so I decided to embrace my lazy for a bit. (I am not actually lazy but absurdly unable to sit still ever.)

Well, last Saturday I FELT like it. Donned me running shoes and hit the road. And here's what I remembered about running:

1)  LOVE. I love love love to move my body because I can. I think of all the times I've been limited by injury or pregnancy or time constraints - they flash through my mind and my hearts swells with gratitude for the present moment. I see how this sounds a little too perfect (ooh - all my runs are so blissful. Yeah right. If they weren't slogfests all summer I wouldn't've taken a hiatus)  The weather was perfect. "It was a beautiful, crisp October day", which leads me to #2.

2) Living in New England in October and running along the Merrimack River is a miracle of existence and nature and a divine blessing of beauty. I know. That may be a bit much. But when those endorphins are cruising around and I think about all the places I've been that don't have autumn like we do, I am very grateful and appreciative of what we have. It's an anomaly. The water was like glass. It was perfectly chilly so running was just right. The older I get the more picky I can be about running temps. Too hot and I get the heart palpies. Too cold and my lungs hurt. This was Goldilocks'-3rd-bowl-of-oatmeal-jussssst-riiight.

3) I get to laugh at myself. I listen to Rocky's theme song and I am so ridiculous but it really pulls my shoulders back, head up, puts a spring in my step and a big ole goofy grin  across my face because I delight in nothing more so than my own silliness. 

Super powers on a 13.FUN

2 super powers I discovered after completing my first half marathon. 
(My first one, as in, there will be MORE)

1. I can not loose weight while training. Call it a gift. No matter how much I run, how carefully I eat, nothin' happens. Weight does not budge. Don't be jealous! It's a slow thyroid. For real, I've been tested. Dumb dumb dumb.

2. I have a special skill for running UPHILL. What? I don't know. All my life with these big heavy thigh muscles - wondered what purpose they'd ever serve. Well, there it is. I can fly past people uphill. And then continue to zoom downhill. That and all the breakneck trail training I did this summer. PAY OFF!

It was a chilly, lovely fall morning. As I stood at the starting line, I thought, "Well. At least I'll never have to do this again."
Then I thought, "Man I'm cold. I wish I was home. Why do I do this?"
And then I thought, "What better way to spend my precious weekend mornings than crammed in with with thousands of strangers running in the delightful New England autumn?" 

I started slow, it seems I really hit my stride after mile 4. Then zoom zoom zoom past all the people who whizzed past me at mile 2. And then continue zooming. The last 2 miles were a little work. But when I ever heard that crowd and saw that finish line, that put some serious wind in my sails and I just went for it. I didn't really want to sprint at the end (bad for the ole ticker) but I just couldn't help myself. What's the purpose of pacing yourself then? Burn it up, I say!!!

I saw some amazing people chuffing along. Skinny butts, fat butts. Midget butts, one-legged butts. Old, young, fierce and timid. Everyone was there. I was proud of all of them and silently wished them all a safe & healthy race. I smiled a lot. It didn't hurt that bad. I felt good, felt love for my fellow runners. I cried the first mile out of joy and gratitude and remembering my lost loved one for whom I was running. I wanted to cry at the end again with gratitude and joy. I can move my body, I can do this, I DID this, and for that I am blessed and grateful. 

Putting the Try in Triathlon

After a pleasantly social media-free summer, I am back. I took a break from it all with the goal of living my life rather than logging it. It was very relaxing. Just getting through a day of training and working and childrearing is enough, and blogging on top of it all seemed like a bit much. Sometimes I'd just rather go do the dishes. Or read Goodnight Moon for the umpteenth time. Or stare at the wall. I am particularly found of that activity, especially after everyone's asleep and the house is finally quiet. 

I trained for and completed the Wildcat Sprint Triathlon, and I am now training for the Bay-State half-marathon this fall.

Putting the Try in Triathlon

I went back for more Wildcat Sprint/ Merrimack River panic this year. 

AND 

I placed 2nd for Athena. Yeah! 

I met the goals I had made for myself, mostly, although my swim time was shorter it was still longer than what I had hoped for. 

Looks calm. Looks can be deceiving. It's seething.
Photo courtesy of Marianne Gries/ Flickr Creative Commons

Despite my blissfully calm open water swims during training, I still apparently loose my beans at the onset of a tri swim. Loose my BEANS. And that current! Whew! That mighty, might Merrimack. I realize now I most certainly need a wetsuit and a coach for next year. And to do more races in general. Whatevs. I made it out of the water and picked up some momentum in the bike & finished the run strong. 

And now to keep plugging away for the half marathon. I can't wait to put that 13.1 sticker on my car. HA! How's that for motivation? I actually have a wealth of deeply emotional and spiritual reasons for doing the half, but for right here I am going to be shallow and say it's for that bumper sticker I crave to show off to the world that despite my fat ass and swaying post-partem, two 9lb baby pregnancy carrying, c-section having, jiggle belly diastasis recti ruined mummy tummy that I can in fact haul myself 13.1 miles muthafuckah!

"Dolemite is my name, and fuckin' up motherfuckers is my game..."

Why I left Facebook

http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/compost/wp/2013/05/28/everyone-hates-facebook-but-we-cant-leave/

As much as I adore staying connected with my far flung friends and family, I believe those relationships will survive offline.  There were several instances that brought me to my decision to leave. 

The harnessing of personal info is too much. A friend of mine took some kind of "what kind of person are you" quiz that analyzed every single post, like, group, page, pretty much everything she ever did on FB, tallied it all up, then analyzed the same usage for all of her friends and made comparisons. I had never elected to be part of the quiz, and yet there I was, presented in her data with my FB "personality" on display. It said I was "contentious" and "neurotic". 

I found that alarming. 

FB has a way of twisting the way you appear. Even if you want to celebrate the good things online, you come across as boastful. Or whiny and ungrateful in the opposite case. I like to keep things to myself. You want to see a picture of my kids? Too bad. Come look at them in person. Hang out with me in life. I found that the timesuck void of FB was actually making me feel more lonely instead of more connected. 

I find a lot of insincerity on FB. A lot of people like to ramble on about their perfect this and perfect that. We all know it's crap. Stop trying to impress everybody. Your kids have as many tantrums as everyone else's. Give me a break.

Then final straw was on a page dedicated to the memory of a deceased friend. All of these people had wished him Happy Birthday. Why? He's dead? They were doing it for themselves, clearly. But why? These are people who had not seen or spoken to my deceased friend in years, if not decades. One woman had actually reused to speak to my friend for several years because of an old feud. She refused to forgive him, would not attend his funeral, and was convinced he was going to hell for his lifestyle. And here she is on FB proclaiming her sadness and loss and wishing him happy birthday. I don't want to see it.

And then there's this: http://finance.yahoo.com/news/facebook-tinkers-users-emotions-news-010656869.html

So, you want to stay in touch, here I am!

MYTH vs. REALITY

MYTH vs. REALITY.  

I received this flyer in the mail from my phone company the other day:

1st thought: "Aw! Cute baby!"

2nd thought: "Whoa whoa wait hold up. LOOK at what is ACTUALLY going on in this picture.  

Let's analyze. 

The work at home do it all mom is both talking on the phone AND working on her laptop. She is apparently extremely efficient. Everyone looks pretty put together. Everyone is remarkably clean.  Baby is happily gazing at the laptop screen. Mom's hair is groomed nicely, not in the traditional frantic mom nasty oatmeal ponytail.

Now I realize in the world of marketing and advertising there are certain requirements to present a type of idealized version of reality in order to sell a product, but really, what is this image SAYING.  
It is a lie, of course. It presents an idealized fantasy. I like idealized fantasies. It's why I buy the September issue of Vogue every year. But I don't want to be subliminally made to feel that that is what my reality should aspire to be. 

And now some reality:

Much better. Insert yelling noises.

 I have never been able to sit at my laptop without sticky spitty jammy hands slathering goo on the keyboard. That's not to say I don't clean their hands - I do - constantly. Their little paws can't help but ooze sticky jamminess all the time. It is an as-of-yet uninvestigated phenomena of toddler sticky hand secretion.  

   I've not once had a phone conversation whilst baby and toddler played contentedly without vying for my attention...does that even happen? Which leads me to wonder...what is on the screen there? Is that baby playing with ABC Mouse? Isn't he/she a little young? Or is Mama demonstrating pie charts on powerpoint and doing fun math sums on her excel sheet? Is she in a phone conference with work? Or just begging her mother-in-law to come over and watch the baby while she goes to the gym for an hour? No she's definitely having some kind of high-powered conference call there. By her body language she's clearly cool, collected, in charge and certainly doesn't need to beg anyone for help.

Let's break it down even more. Let's think about all the folks who exist outside the frame to make this illusion possible. Lighting techs, producers, marketing directors, hair and makeup artists, photographers, production assistants, baby wranglers, the baby's actual parents who are probably just off-screen shaking toys around frantically to keep the kid happily distracted. 

It's all bunk and they know it! They just want to make you feel guilty and sell you shit. You open this mail and think, "WOW! Look how together she is! I should get that phone/laptop/ wifi plan and then I can run a business from home while having fun with my happy baby! Easy peasy! Sign me up, dude!"

Athena bashing?

So, I belong to an Athena triathlete group on the old Facebook. And for those not in the know, Athena is a weight class distinction for women 165 lbs or more. It is not a requirement to assign yourself to this class, but many do. 

 So, this group was "suggested" to a woman, as Facebook likes to "suggest" to you groups to join, who became very insulted at this and made some pretty insensitive remarks which got some of the gals understandably a bit riled.  I cannot provide a link to this as it is a private group, but I made my own choice comments along the lines of "I am 165 lbs of muscle so she can go shit in her hat." 

This morning while out on a run with my son, a leisurely 3 miles pushing the 50+ lbs of combined child and stroller, I had the time to really rev up my inner monologue soapbox, and the beauty of social media is that I get to share it all with you!

Ahem.

I don't usually come on Facebook all cussin' and guns blazin', but damn if I wasn't feeling a bit FEISTY last night. This past September I had the privilege to be on national TV and declare to the lovely Dom Streater that I was "comfortable in my own skin" Check me out HERE

It took every second of my 37 years, many inner struggles and two wonderful babies to get to that point. I have been fat, skinny, everything in between. 
Now, by the grace of God, I can say I am a strong and healthy mother for my children. I feel good and do not for one day take my health for granted as I have seen so many of my family succumb to various illnesses.

80 year old men have whizzed past me in races, and I have "skinny" friends who can't keep up with me. We all march to the beat of our own divine rhythm and the world is better for it

I am proud to be an Athena Triathlete, I am proud of the women in the group because we all have some hella fiesty or we wouldn't even bother with it. ;)

I do not know the woman who made the remarks, and honestly, I am not insulted by her. This is about ME and how I feel in my own body. Her remark was insensitive and I don't care,  but it is representative of a general attitude that is pervasive in our culture. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH.

We are strong. We are healthy. We are blessed. Now lets get good and comfy in these amazing bodies! We inhabit them only so briefly. The hell with all that other noise!

What a Load...

...of snow. I have completely woofed it on any outdoor training lately. I blame February with Polar Vortexes, Arctic Blasts, and sheets of ice coating everything. And my jogging stroller's still busted.  I just kind of gave up last week and started playing video games rigorously from the couch. Will try again when snow melts a little. Will make necessary repairs to double jogging stroller, parts on order from Amazon. Remove my face from this troph of hot fries and commence spring time motivation then. Still hibernating now. Keeping my babies warm with me winter belly.

So it turns out I need a footpod for my Garmin to do the things I thought it would do. Pacing, splits, etc. I actually went and studied the manual.  Ha! No prob. I can make that happen. Thanks again Amazon. For some reason I have the idea that March will be better when I can crawl out from  under this extra layer of butt that I have cultivated this month.  

These comfy walls of inertia are a blessing and a curse. So cozy, so warm, yet so hard to break through. I will be doing my first 5k of the season this weekend - a fundraiser for a friend doing the Boston Marathon. My couch is going to miss me.....it think its going to hurt...but I will like it.

Top 13 songs for 2013

I am late to the top list of whatever for last year. But whatever. These are my favorite songs for 2013. Some of them are very obnoxious, some of them are lovely. Some are not even from 2013.

Immigrant Song - Karen O. It's from Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, my obsession at the dawn of the year.
Royals - Lorde & Thrift Shop  - Macklemore.  Two fabulously catchy and empowering songs that make one feel OK with being broke.
Up All Night - Daft Punk
Harlem Shake. So obnoxious. Not really from Harlem, mostly just gyrating.
What Does the Fox Say - Ylvis. God Help me get out of my head. Brilliant.
Hold On - Alabama Shakes. Brittany Howard's voice slays me.
Too Many Dicks on the Dancefloor - Flight of the Conchords. Hysterical, genius rhyming.
Subhuman Woman - Devo. It's an old B-side. I like to pretend I am an alien cyborg woman running uphill in my armor.
Skokiaan - Louis Armstrong. Always a happy fav. Just can't be sad when I hear it.
Roar - Katy Perry. I know. I know. But I can't resist a song that sends a positive message to young women.
Rapper's Delight - Sugar Hill Gang. Sandra Bullock brought this one back. Always classic happy hip hop.
Stairway to Heaven Led Zep Live version '07. Because of this guy: Jeroen Offerman

Happy New Year?

Happy New Year! I took the opportunity between Nor'Easters and Polar Vortexes to rock some rainbow socks on my inaugural New Years Day run. How lovely it all was, before we got snowed in and frozen. 

I'm a bit off kilter in my posting lately, but meh, I'm a bit off kilter in my running as well. It was a whirlwind holiday season. 

But now...I have a Garmin. Which makes me think of Andy Warhol, and here is why.

Andy Warhol is credited with saying something like this - although this is not a direct quote- "Wanting is better than having." This is because he believed that the anticipation, the desire and longing of having is so exquisitely built up in our minds that the reality often falls short. I would have to agree, and when it comes to my Garmin, sadly, this is so. 

Now, I am a techie person. In my place of work, I am the go-to troubleshooting guru. You bring me a piece of cranky software and I can make your dreams come true. 

All year I have fantasized about pacing my miles, measuring my splits, improving my cadence and speed. If only I had a sweet sweet Garmin to time my runs and measure everything! Then I could break that 9 minute barrier! Visions of a 27 minute 5k danced in my head. 


Alas, it was not to be. I kept pressing buttons and semi-trotting and begging and pleading and the end result was more like the episode of AbFab when Eddie hurls her blackberry out the window screaming "Give me back my life!!!"

Guess I should go download that owner's manual now...

I'm not a back. I'm a back pain

I thought I was back. Turns out, I'm back out. As in, threw my back out! Baaah!!! I rested my foot for a few weeks after this half marathon. Then I ran a lil tiny lil bit, and then my back went out. I am complaining here because I have not complained in my real life to anyone. Going on three weeks this wretched pain has been restricting my movement, my quality of life, and making me nauseous. It keeps moving around from spot to spot. I finally saw my chiropractor this morning and she told me...I overdid it on the run. Well. Sigh. I guess I didn't train properly. I thought I did. 

Waah. Boohoo. The days are short. It gets dark early. It's too cold to bring the kids out even for short runs. And the double wide stroller has a flat anyway. Poop soup. :-(

I'll just have to suck it up buttercup!!!

Sprint Triathlon; A Retrospect

SWIM!
The pinnacle moment finally came. All that training. YEARS of waiting. Two pregnancies in three years behind me and I could at last DO this. I was ankle deep in the cold and murky Merrimack water. Excited, but oddly calm. This was it. I waded out into the water, stumbling in the mud, feet and legs of the swimmers ahead of me in my face. The water was roiling with bubbles churned from the movement of so many bodies. I took a big breath of was what supposed to be air but instead was a lung bucketful of hellacious black frothy riverwater and began sputtering and panicking.
Oh shit, I thought. This is NOT what I thought would happen. I've gotta get the hell out of here. I can't do this! Current's too strong!! Panic Panic Can't Can't Can't!!!

And then, my inner Drill Sargent sprang forth. I love him.

Bullshit! You will complete this race! You will swim to the other side and back. You will breathe. You paid $90 to be here goddammit you are not getting out now! You can and you will. Goddammit move your ass! Swim! Swim!

And so I did. Thanks Sarge. 

But....there's a little trick in open water swimming called sighting. No big deal, just a small matter of looking up to see where you're going every so often to make sure you are still where you are supposed to be. I, who had spent so much focus on my bike and run training, overlooked this simple technique of open water swimming (had been training in the pristine chemically treated softwater of a relative's swimming pool). Our swim route up till the point of departure had been...ambiguous at best. Not even the volunteers seemed to know the route we were swimming, and we received several sets of differing information. The best info I got was from a couple of women who had done the race the year before and said it was just out and back. By the time we got to the actual start of the race, I had heard so much and was so jangled I wasn't sure where the hell I was going but I figured I'd just follow the pack. 

So after the initial panic, I struggled to stay calm and chug through it by swimming ball-ass as fast and hard as I could - in completely the wrong direction. I had volunteers on surfboards yelling at me to turn around- lucky I didn't get friggin' disqualified. And then it happened again. I was halfway to Methuen. I actually probably should've gotten extra credit for swimming double the distance as everyone else. I never have been one to do things the easy way. I fought my way back through the current and was The Last One Out. Everyone who was still standing around cheered. I waved my arms in the air like a monkey champion and flew into the deserted transition area, hopped on my bike. I did have one of the shortest transitions times - that was one thing I managed to practice successfully! 

BIKE!
This being my first Triathlon, I was a novice at all this stuff like "sighting" and "gear". I have a mountain bike that I tool around town and woods with and I figured it was good enough. Leave all that fancy stuff to the Lance Armstrongs of the world, I thought. I'll just make do with what I have and see if I like it. I practiced frequently on the bike course, having home-field advantage, which served me well. I knew where the hills were and  when I needed to shift my two functioning gears. I actually managed to pass someone! I thank god for her everyday. I know, I know, it sounds awful, right? Petty. My only goal was to finish the damn thing, I shouldn't have been concerned about passing anyone. But after the emotional wounds of the botched swim I felt really good about not being last. Sorry sweetie. She had a mountain bike, too. After the race we chatted a bit and both decided to invest in road bikes for next season's races.

I finished the bike feeling strong, jumped off at the transition and hit the ground on jellied legs.  A traffic cop asked me if I was OK. Come ON! I was only a little wobbly. I wanted to swear. 
Inside my Head:  I'm fuckn FINE! You never seen someone fall of a bike before?!
Actually said: Fine, Thanks!

RUN! 
And so I ran. Wobbly at first, then stronger. Now I was starting to catch up with some folks. Other runners on their way back, some chuffing along, some walking even. Sucked down a gross gel (Horror. I have yet to find a good one. Free samples for the blogger, anyone?) I stayed steady and strong, did my out-and-back 5k, and finished strong. I think I could've run even harder, but given that my goal was simply to finish it didn't occur to me to race harder. Especially since by that point I felt like I was running the race alone. 

I stuck around for a few for some watermelon and to applaud the people who won medals. Secretly I was hoping to win a "Slowest Swim" or something of that ilk. I once was on a bowling team and won an award for "Lowest Score" in our division. I've always been proud of that. If I'm gonna bomb, I'm gonna bomb hard. No mediocrity here! I was surprised that they served hot dogs and potato chips afterward. It was nice they served lunch but for the triathlon crowd I guess I expected more...kale? Grilled chicken maybe?  

Well, my family, who had planned on being at the finish line, did not manage to show up. There had been a...err...slight timing error and we missed each other.  So I rode my bike home to a quiet sleeping naptime house and sat in the dark sweating for a while. I felt very strange. I was very disappointed in myself for the swim. I should have been proud of myself for finishing it at all, but I was really hung up on that. There is a post race deflation that a lot of folks experience. I was sad for about a week after. Then I decided to run the half marathon and instantly felt better with a new goal to work towards. Which I did, but was too cheap to actually sign up for, so I did an unofficial one.

And then there's  next year!
Lessons Learnt: The value of sighting and the merits of having decent gear. Open water training is essential. 

Plantar Fasciitis CONQUERED!

After two weeks of rest, I went out for my test run. Two miles with two in tow. Not too bad. Heh.  

I said, "Is it good, foot? 

Foot said, "It is good."  

  Waited a few more days for the pain to return. It did not! Decided to give it another go with the two in tow. As we were approaching the logistical maelstrom of clothing/snacks/shoes/screaming/stroller, I noticed one of my tires on the double-wide jogging stroller was flat.  The little air tube thingy had slipped down into the wheel well, so I could not easily reinflate it. I went for the nearest contraption I could find to try to dig it out which happened to be a very dull pocket knife. Further searching was not an option as there were writhing tantrumming children gyrating across the yard. What happened next was just....dumb. I should have known better, and I DID know better than to use a pocket knife to try to wrestle out the air valve, but in my haste I decided to give it a go. The tire was just low, not flat. Until...I heard an unmistakable pop fizz hsssssssssss. And then it was not just low, but flat. Really Really flat. And broken. I was in such a rush to get out on the road before it got too dark (gets dark at 4pm here now), that I actually attempted tire repair with a pocket knife and popped my inner tube. 
  So  I waited a few more days until I could go out alone. In the nearby state park, most of the frenzy of autumn color has died down into the more somber palette of November. Dark russet and burnt umber replace the vibrant yellows and oranges that make the trees look like they are flaming in the twilight. 

I ran. And it was GOOD.  Aah.

Cake!

The other day while visiting my in-laws, I noticed LittleBoy scrabbling around on a shelf behind the couch. Now, I should know better at this point that when he is quietly occupied with something, it usually means trouble and should be investigated. However, I was otherwise occupied myself by other family members and so relished this brief interlude of calm in order to have a delightful adult conversation.   

LittleBoy appeared before me with his fingers covered in some vanilla-sweet- smelling gooey substance:

He was smiling wildly. I asked, "What did you find behind the couch?!?"

His happy reply, "CAKE!"

Me: Silence, shock, bewilderment.  Cake? Behind the couch? Horror of horrors.

After a quick reconnaissance mission I realized he had dug into a mushy scented candle. 

Yuck. 

I emphasized that this was a candle and therefore not edible. 
(read: DON"T EAT THAT!)
He hadn't really ingested any, but had a grand time smearing the gooey wax around and licking it. The candle was not burning, the wax was not melted, it was simply a particularly soft candle. 

Damage was done. He now believes there is a secret cache of cake behind the couch every time we go there. 

LittleBoy: Cake? Cake? Where are you?

Having a Good Time

Little boy is pretty much potty trained, thank heavens. So yesterday we were flushing some poops down the toilet. 
Little boy said, "Mummy, those poops are having a good time in there." 

I immediately visualized this:

 It's a turd party!

There was absolutely nothing funny about yesterday.

There was absolutely nothing funny about yesterday. It took 2.5 full hours to get them both to sleep. I was on the verge of getting  all Mommy Dearest there for a while. Seriously. New compassion for Joan Crawford. 

I felt like this: Goya. Saturn Devouring His Son

source: http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/francisco-goya/saturn-devouring-his-son-1823-1

http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Francisco_de_Goya_y_Lucientes

Is this funny? Maybe not. But in my chronically sleep deprived state I think it's freakin' hysterical. Ever since way back in art school, I thought the frantic insanity in his eyes was darkly humorous. 

I need to go for a run. With the taper and now an injury, I feel like a neurotic tiger I once saw in a zoo in Singapore. Pacing frantically in its tiny glass walled cell, licking its chops ready to devour.  

Note: I would NEVER actually EAT my children. 

Frenchy Mani C'est La Vie Amelie KidzSleepinintheCar

So I touched up my French manicure with whiteout today. So what? Tacky and horrible, yes. Here's a good way to ruin a mani - chop a few pounds of veggies for an hour or so, make soup and pie from scratch, do the dishes a few times, put the kids in and out of the car a few times, et viola! Chipped. I know, a completely frivolous and impractical thing to have at this juncture in life. But sometimes you just have to do something fun for yourself. This is the second one I've ever had, the first being this summer on Project Runway where I discovered an affinity for them. I have historically been too messy making art, playing guitars, working on projects to have it done. 

I haven't written anything about running lately because I Haven't Been Running. (Insert Tears of Frustration Here)  I have a foot injury. I believe it is Plantar Fasciitis. It is lame. Ha! No pun intended. Well, I'm off it for a bit, icing it and resting. No walks. No runs. No fun. No cuts no buts no coconuts. R.I.C.E.  rest.ice.compress.elevate. For a few more days at least, which is why yesterday this happened:

This is the image in my rearview mirror of two quickly scribbled sleeping children. They screamed all day and afternoon. God knows why. Teething? Tiredness? Tourette's? Normally I'd take them for a run for some air, but being that my foot is dumb we went for a drive. Literally before we pulled out of the driveway they were zonked. It went from screaming to silence in about 30 seconds. I got a coffee and drove around the countryside looking at cows and leaves, contemplating what kind of culinary adventure awaited us for dinner.