8 Miles

8 miles.  Somehow now that I've done it, technically twice, it doesn't sound that big.  I mean, I KNOW it's a long run, and I did get very tired there in the end.... but somehow it doesn't seem so scary to me now.  A few months ago if you'd suggested an 8 mile run would be part of my summer plans, I would have offered you some kind of "herbal refreshment" to clear your head- and no I don't mean herbal tea.

So, R ran the whole way with me.  I think having my "trainer" run beside me did a few things for me.  I wasn't going to walk.  I did, technically walk about 4 strides while I sucked down a sip off my new hydration belt, but I didn't take any prescribed walking breaks.  And, I ran "slow", but I still picked up my pace by a bit.  I always tend to speed up around mile 3, which I do on every run.  I think I do it because I usually only run about that far, so I sprint the end.  Well, R slowed me down a bit at that point just by noticing the increase in speed.  Thank goddess she did because I think it's likely I wouldn't have made it if she hadn't said something.  

On other notes, thanks to the 8 or 9 people who suggested 3 Sports.  I went in there and asked the guy to look at my shoes.  I figured he would get right on the, "You need a new expensive pair of shoes" bandwagon.  He didn't.  In fact, he said my shoes were pretty good and could go about another month.  Good deal.  He watched me run, checked the fit, and never pushed a purchase on me.  That said, I WILL go back for my new shoes in a few weeks.  The race will be less than 2 months away at that point (OHMYGODDESS- is that RIGHT?) and I will need a new pair.  At the same time I want to break in the new pair before I try running 13.1 miles in them.  

So, I looked at and bought a mad expensive "Fuel Belt".  You know what, this sucker is great.  I can already see the benefit of having it.  Sure, I can run and walk in it...  and I could take it on trail rides too.  Nothing worse than being on a horse in the middle of nowhere w/o a drink.  It worked great today, was comfortable.  My only complaint is that it put a wear mark on my shirt.  I'm not excited about all my shirts being torn up by it.  

S'pose I could be one of those women running in a sports bra & skirt so I don't ruin my shirts, but I somehow can't see myself as the topless runner just yet...  (cheap sounding stripper/disco music just popped into my head now for some reason).

That didn't last long...

So, on, what?  Monday?  I announced with some measure of distress that I am no longer going to try to run w/ the "SS ladies" due to my slowness... and well, I organized a cute little run for me & some non-running girls, and suddenly, I've invited the rest of the world and we're running with the some of SS group after all.  I couldn't be happier.  How typical for me.  I could never say no to you people.  (and I mean that in the nicest way).  I will have to run behind you, and that will take discipline, but heckfireandshoot, they don't call me the Nazi for nothing.  Discipline, I've got.  

(*except with food, but that's a post for another day)

I realize that this is sort of my MO.  I don't do anything 1/2 way anymore.  I'm not sure I ever did anything 1/2 way to begin with.  From my horse back riding days, when I came in last place at my first show, to one year later when I placed 1,1,2 in my 3 events, all the way to college when I was on deans list.  One semester after I had established myself on the "list" I got a ~shudder~ B.  I punished myself.  How was I going to beat everyone else with B's?

Even my horseback endurance trail rides, which were supposed to be just for fun, became something more when I entered Ringo, a 6 year old "green" appaloosa, at 10 miles.  Ringo and I planned to lose that race.  I was offered a friend's sane and reasonable horse, but Ringo was mine, so he was my choice.  He was sort of dangerous really, and looking back on it, I can NOT believe my mother let me take him on that ride.  Cute as a button, he was a spooky horse who jumped out of his skin at the sight of really dangerous things like clouds, sunshine, shadows, imaginary goblins, cats, paper bags, bikes, motorcycles... I could go one here....  I ought to dig up a photo of us, I was never happier than when I was with him.  We attacked that trail ride with purpose and planning.  Slow and steady, follow every trail rule, safety first.   And we placed 2nd.  I happily swallowed 2nd because (and T will appreciate this) I beat all my friends by about 4 minutes.  

When I rode BMX bikes I took a different tack to the same end.  I was pressured by my mother to win win win.  She ran a business & sponsored the team, and if I won it was good for the bike shop.  So, with a roll of my tween eyes and an indignant shrug of the shoulders, I snapped my helmet over my face before each event.  In a pre-race ritual of thinly veiled disgust toward my mother I sulked up to the starting gate and gave mom one last stare.  Until she turned to head for the finish line.  Then, behind my visor where no one could see me, I put on game face.  I swallowed my fear, and trust me, I was afraid.  Just thinking about it reminds me of the quake in my hands as they clutched the handlebars tighter and thighter.  The sweat that no one saw under my gloves.  Each time I stepped up to the gate and balanced my bike against it, I felt sick.  

I resolved in that "balance" moment that I would win.  I often did.  Not for mom, but because I had to beat Candy.  Candy was my chief competition and I loathed her.  She irked my every last nerve on every acne riddled pre-teen level.  From her boobs - believe it or not I was FLAT as a board- to her long blond hair & glowing complexion.  Nothing was worse than being on a bike behind her streaming golden hair.  Again, T, can probably appreciate that... 

In all honesty, IF I'm going "all or nothing" with my running, then I'll have to run with the SS ladies, at least some of the time.  At some point, in the far future, maybe my brain will learn to accept something other than straight A's, blissful horse perfection and a 3 foot trophy that says something stupid on it like, "Powder Puff 3rd Place ECBL".  But right now, I'm going to have to learn to love running behind a blond pony tail.

MYOB- just MYOB

I'm going to have to really stick to the MYOB lifestyle if I want to have any friends.  I really am.  I am a born meddler.  I like to fix other peoples problems.  Don't ask me to fix my own problems though, that's crazy talk.  But sticking to the mind my own business motto is going to have to be part of the summer plan.  And here is yet another reason why.  

I baby sit for a family who would be categorized in the Generation O that Rachel mentioned in her blog.  They're a super nice family, and I secretly believe that if the husband lost his extra 180/200 pounds he would be really hot.  All year I have sat on their front stoop talking with the mom (who is also heavy) while our boys played together... and all year she has spoken about how her son can't seem to drop this extra weight, how he has to take his lunch every day, and how it doesn't seem fair that he can never have a sweet treat in his lunch because he's heavy and people will critique her for that.  She swore she was packing him healthy meals every day.

I believed her.  I listened to her.  But he's been in my house for a week + now, and I can see where the problem lies.  I think that she believes that she is sending a healthy meal for her son.  I do.  She's so honest and giving as a person, I couldn't ask for a better neighbor really.  So, her son's lunch today was a bologna sandwich on white wonder bread, cheetos, carrots, and a yoohoo.  His lunch had as much saturated fat in it as I will eat in a normal day.  On average I eat between 4-10 g Sat Fat, and his lunch had about 8g.  EIGHT!

And don't get me started on the calorie count, sugar and lack of fiber.  He'll eat every bite of every thing she sends, and say he's too full for carrots.  Oh heckfire and shoot no, not in my house.  Now he's learning, eat the carrots first or Miss G will jump on you like white on rice.  But still, beyond that, "he'll eat every bit she sends"... like a machine.  He just keeps eating until it's all gone.

My H, a wise and serious man, says I can't say anything at all.  He says they know better, and that they choose not to make better choices for their children because they either believe it can't happen to them, or they believe that the children are going to be "fat" because they are "fat".  Madness.  AND stupidity!!!  These are not stupid people, they are ignorant!  This is NOT the same thing!

I want to break into their house and throw away all the butter, bologna and mayo.  I want to replace these things with margarine, turkey and light mayo/mustard.  I want to set a bonfire of cheetoes in their front yard which we will dance around.  Crunchy deep fried things will be replaced with fresh fruits and veggies, like cucumbers, strawberries, melon balls and carrots.  If he wants a crunchy thing, the carrots will have to do.  If he wants a cheesy thing, CHEESE will do!  (CRAZY TALK, cheese is high in fat, BUT it has nutritional value beyond that which makes it acceptable to me)...  

But, as great as that fantasy is.... I can't.  I can do nothing.  I can sit by and watch him eat his way into obesity, because I am not the mother.  I am the nosy neighbor/babysitter/friend.  All I can do is walk the child to the pool (.5M), make him do 1 hour of swimming/day and walk him home (.5M again).  I can cancel cable TV in my house (had to slip that one in) and forbid TV.  I will take them to the Library and allow them to choose books, because reading burns more calories than TV at least, and the kids still do need SOME downtime every day. 

I must shut up.  I must, because it infuriates me.  I think I'm starting to care about these children too much.  They aren't mine, but they are for 35 hours a week and that makes me the "other mother".  Ok Ok- this is MADNESS... and, just MYOB, g.... MYOB.

Before and After

Here's the, er, "plump" or, um, "Cheery" photos I promised.  And, did I deliver, or what?  No matter what you think when you look at them, PLEASE tell me you can see the difference.  

I hesitate to call them "fat" photos for several reasons.  The first is, I don't weigh a lot more there than I do now.  The second is that I'm clearly having one of those bad hair nights that make a person look even worse.  Third is that honestly, I remember this night, and (oh my Goddess- here's the clincher), I THOUGHT I LOOKED GOOD.  (Yes that is my belly fat hanging out of the front of my jeans & my belt is on the last hole).  

What crack was I smoking?  Good crack I hope because OH MY GODDESS what was I THINKING???  This photo was taken 4 months after B was born.  Plenty of time to have started taking off the weight, and yet clearly, I had not.  I look like I've been stung by an insect of the eight legged variety.   Note how I lifted my chin at the last second to avoid the "double chin".  It worked right?  Its sad to think that was a strategy I used on a regular basis.  Oh, and the paleness ....  I know I'm wearing make up here...  I'll just blame the flash.  "THE FLASH WASHED ME OUT."  Sort of like the whole, "The water was cold" bit.  I'm sure it was the flash.  I was not an unhealthy couch potato who ate poorly.... it was the flash.  

Some time soon I'll have to get someone to take a better "after" Stroller Strides photo of me.  That would be fun to post.  I don't have one though that's a full body shot, all I have are head shots, which don't do it justice.  Well, except the double chin.  I haven't seen that around in a while.  Ah well, most of you poor people have to look at me all the time, you don't want a photo.  

But, for those of you who don't see me every day, here's the best I have.  From May, on the 10th anniversary of my 22nd birthday, the most complete "After" photo I could find.  

 (I love the illusion of Anne Marie's waist, w/ the booboos on either side...  She's a hottie already, she didn't need the help!)

my mouth is full...

You know the feeling when you've bitten off more than you can chew, but you keep chewing because you're either too embarrassed to spit out what's in your mouth, or it tastes too good to let go?

Well, that's the feeling I had on Saturday during the long run with my "girls".  I was having fun keeping up and I was too embarrassed to slow down when I should have... and suddenly, I couldn't keep up at all.  They run faster than me, even the slowest of the lot- and I'm starting to think she only runs slow with me to keep me company.  I am going to have to embrace this and just let them go.  I can't hold them back and I can't keep up.  The truth is that they've all been running for months longer than I have.  They train 30 seconds faster than I can comfortably run, and while I'm gasping for every scrap of air my lungs can draw, they're having a great chat.  30 seconds.  Think about that for a minute.  It's a tremendous amount of time on each mile.  I can't run that fast for more than 3 miles.  And I have now demonstrated this sad fact.  Again.  

So next week when the girls run, I am going to have to pass.  Oh don't get me wrong, I love running with them, and that is my problem.  I try to keep up.  Next week I am going to conquer 8 miles, on my terms, with my speed.  I am going to finish strong.  Oh now wait a minute, I'm not a wuss.  I'm still going to increase my training distance by 10% this week, but I'm going to add it to a different shorter run.

Because running isn't just about running fast.  It's about running with the confidence to stick to your own speed, your own training program, & to rest before you are completely weary so you get the benefit of the recovery.  This 8 mile run is going to be on my terms.

Inspiration comes in many forms...

Many of you know I'm a writer.  Not a good one, not a published one, but still, I do some writing off and on.  When I concentrate I can even squeak out some decent grammar and spelling.  Anyone who's a writer knows that inspiration comes in many forms.  It can hit you in the middle of a deeply profound moment, like a funeral or birth, or it can arrive as you're driving the kids to school and the stop light turns red.

When I look in the mirror, I could see how I inspire people.  I mean, sure, I'm a force to remember, and I suspect that people are indirectly inspired by me all the time...

I imagine....  When a young woman sees me at the grocery store screaming at my kids, she's probably inspired not to have kids.  When a pregnant woman sees me at the store, she's inspired to stop at one.  When a mother of 3 sees me at the same store, she's inspired not to yell at her kids so much.  When a person sees me at the pool in my new 2 piece I imagine she's inspired to visit Jenny Craig.  Yes, I am inspirational, though not always positively for myself, I think I have done my share of inspiring the rest of the world.

So, when a woman approached me yesterday to say that I inspired her, I initially questioned, "To do what?"  She continued, adding on to say that I motivated her to start walking again, to go to the gym, etc.  "Because I see you doing it with all these children, and if you can do it without excuses with all these children (yes, she said that part twice) then I surely cannot have excuses."

Hmmm.  I guess maybe that will be my T-shirt.  It's inspiring, sort of.  "I run because there are no excuses."  Tough call though, I am really attached to, "I run because my a** needs to fit in my jeans."

Day 7- Cable TV experiment

The subjects are adapting well to their lack of cable.  No one seems to miss it except for the alpha male, and even he is showing positive signs.  The pups are enjoying activities that they had previously overlooked, like reading, writing in a summer journal, and playing together.  This perhaps is the most impressive development.  The visiting pup from the neighboring den was initially disbelieving when he heard that the cable wasn't operational, but he too has quit asking for "Boomerang" and "Disney".  

Nope- still don't miss it.

By the way, this year I'm noticing something.  Summer break is more like marathon training than marathon training.  That didn't make sense, but it did.  I swear.  From sun up until midnight for every night this week I have been going/doing/watching/babysitting/running/reading/writing/bathing/swimming/timing/

volunteering/photographing/guilting/having guilt.

Arg!

Note- Cleaning was not on that list.  My house looks like a B Bomb has exploded in it.  I would have said "H-bomb", but my H isn't much of a slob, and B is like "Gozhar the Destructor who came in the form of a mighty slor..."  

Summer Vacation in HiDef

HOLY SNAP!  It's SUMMER VACATION starting today!  I'm completely unprepared.  I feel like a kid who's just started school w/o any supplies, only instead, I'm the Mom who's suddenly got kids!  Kids everywhere!  Kids in the playroom!  Kids in the TV room!  Kids on the porch, the deck, the jungle gym in the yard!  Kids!!!  Kids with swim team practice, meets and social events!  Kids who want to go places and do things!  Kids with camp, parties and summer reading assignments!  Kids!

So, to kick off summer vacation I took the kids to the Art Show in VaBch this past Saturday.  If you live in driving distance to the Boardwalk Art Show, it's worth it.  Assuming you love art.  C loves art.  Stops to look at every third booth, talk to the artists.  One year she admired an artists' paintings so much that he gave her a business card with the print she loved so much on it.  It was her first Russell Yerkes and she treasured it for a long time.  I bet she still has it.  I  would buy her a RY if I could, but I'd have to sell her first to afford it, and that would probably defeat the purpose.  Another artist once gave her a clay cone maraca.  It makes the most wonderful little noise when you shake it, like rain falling on tree leaves.  This year, it was smokey because North Carolina is on fire, and frankly, VaBch isn't that far from NC.  Still, it was fun.  We enjoyed seeing the art, the sights, the Artists, the vendors selling carp food....  I was tempted by a lovely piece of art, but my wallet saved my life.  My H would have KILLED me if I had casually arrived home with a fabulous painting and the phrase, "You know how we've been saving to go to the big D?  Well, I spent $1200 on this 9X11 piece of art!  Isn't it gorgeous?"  

After arriving home from the Art Show around midnight on Saturday, the sensible thing to do would be to sleep in, take a day to relax and regroup my kids.  So, we went to Busch Gardens for Father's Day & stayed there until 9pm.  Yea!  That was fun.  We bought V a season ticket, and traded it for "babysitting".  She came with us and watched the kids while we rode roller coasters for a few hours, and then we regrouped & did some family time.  V & H rode Griffon, and said it was "OK", but apparently both of them blacked out a little from the G-Force.  OK- no more Griffon until those Life Insurance papers are signed!!!

SO, today it's a re-group and re-focus day.  We're going to center ourselves, and set the tone for the summer's activities.  We...  Carp, it's almost 8:10, and I need to get them off to Swim Team practice in a bit!  Then to the barn for a riding lesson, then the library for a book.  Reading time this afternoon, and a swim team social function this evening!  Whew!  

Sorry, but forget "re-group, and blah blah".  It's summer, & I've given up cable, so we'll be out of the house as much as possible!  My theme for the Kids is "Keep them busy.  Keep them tired".

WMS II

Yesterday was a weird day for me.  I was a little out of control at MNO last night, and I know why, but I didn't realize how ridiculous I was being until this morning.  So much for thinking I was in control of myself.  It was the 1st anniversary of my Grandfather's death.  He was an amazing man. 

During his life he saved 10% of what he made.  In 1933 that was $3.20 a week.  It was some of the best financial advice I've ever gotten.

He was really into fitness, and swam and biked regularly until his late 80's.

He took a walk every day up until he was 96 years old.

He believed, if he could do something, he shouldn't pay someone else to do it- the first time he fell off the roof he was 86 years old.  Only minor scratches that time...

He did not apply that theory to his wife, and while they vacationed on the OBX he gave her a budget to hire a maid & cook so she could have a break too.

He had a drink every day of his life, but I never saw him drunk.

In 2003 he attended his 70th college reunion.

He was a southern gentleman, and still opened doors for me up until he died.

He played tickle toes with Bridget on May 20th of 2007.  It was the last time any of us saw him interacting w/ one of his great grandchildren.

Weeks later he fell asleep in his favorite chair & never woke up, and though he went to the hospital to have a brain scan, he was returned to his home days later so he could have his one last wish.

My Grandmother, the dear, is the last remaining.  All her siblings and their husbands are gone.  Her friends have gone ahead as well.  A few months ago she lamented that she "never wanted to be left behind and that it wasn't fair".  She is still fierce.  She is still a tomboy.  She still has a drink every day and I've still never seen her drunk.  Go figure.

Thanks for humoring me today.

News Update

"And in other news, a Henrico man has been accused of murdering his wife when he arrived home to discover she had not only cancelled HBO, but also removed all the premium cable channels."  Just, incase something suspicious should happen to me in the next 2 weeks or so, at least you'll all know why.  

Over the past 4 months I have told my H about MANY things, only to have him say, "Huh?  You never mentioned that."  Well, I warned him that if he continued to place the TV above me, there would be Hell to pay.  I was serious.  And now comes the fall out.

I decided that our TV was interfering with our family communication.  I thought, if my H didn't have 417 choices (honest to goddess the number of channels we got) he might be more inclined to listen to me after 8pm.  Seriously, I warned him.  It's not like I was boring him with the tedium of what I was doing all day in a play by play.  "And then the babies took a nap, and then we ate lunch, and then I had an iced coffee while I cleaned up the kitchen..."  I was telling him things that were more along the lines of, "And then the Pediatrician said that her Penecillian allergy was severe enough that we should get an epi-pen", "I need you to fax this camp form ASAP because it's due by the 23rd", and "I'm going to MNO on the 12th, so don't make plans."

And my kids, over dinner the other night, could not tell me ONE thing they had done that day, but they did know what Zack and Cody had done on the Disney Channel that afternoon.  I happened to know, the day in question, there had been a ice cream social at the school.  It's not like it was a regular humdrum school day.  

So, as a social test, I cancelled the cable for one month.  Maybe we won't miss it & we'll be more active people, more likely I'll be jonesing for a fix by the end of this blog post.  I guess I'll be completely dedicated to my blog for the next month....

Camping with the Girlscouts AGAIN

Last weekend I spent 2 days in the wilds of Chesapeake with 12 girl scouts, one of whom was C, my daughter.  We were actually camping with a friends troop, because we wanted to go to that camp & check it out.  I left dirty, but relaxed.  This weekend we went to a different camp with C's actual troop.  Oh My Goddess.  I should have ended my camping for this year on last weekend's good note.  

Holy Carp.  This weekend was HOT.  Last weekend our camp had AC in the cabins.  This weekend we did NOT have it.  It made all the difference.  The "mess hall" at the last camp also had AC, which meant that when you arrived to eat you were refreshed by the cool air.  Oh no.  No refreshing air at this camp to be found.  It was 110* in the sun.  My poor C looked like she had wilted.  Like a bright red flower with drooping petals, her heat flushed cheeks were only emphasized by the paleness of her eyelids.  Poor thing.  And the rest of her troop looked about the same.  I'll not say much about us, the adults on the trip, except that my T-shirt was soaked within a few minutes of arriving.  I did not glisten, nor did I glow.... I sweated.  By the end of the night my sheets were soaked.  They felt as though they had been wiped down with a damp sponge.  And as I'm fond of asking my children who like to "mop" things up without sweeping first, "What happens when you add dirt to water?", well, the same thing happens to sweat with dirt.  I feel as though I've had a mud wrap.  Not in a good way.  

I guess there's a new angle.  "Come to Girl Scout Camp, get a mud bath that is scented like Deep Woods OFF and SPF 50 sunscreen, when you leave you'll be dotted with mosquito bites."  Don't I feel like a sexy goddess right now.

Money sucks.

I hate talking about money.  I really do.  It stresses me out.  The only exception to that is the one time a year I buy a lottery ticket, then my H & I sit around for a day and say, "When we win we'll do (this) with the money and (that) with the money..."  But let's be honest, that's not what I'm talking about here.  I'm stressed because today I had to set a price for the child I'm going to be watching this summer.  

Its complicated by so many things.  The first is that I'm friends with the family.  The next is that they're neighbors of mine.  I tried to be fair.  I know better than to ask for too little, because then I will resent the time I'm spending watching the children.  I can't ask for too much, because then the family will go somewhere else.  The other complication is that I know that I could easily get another child (or two) and make twice what I make.  The reason I keep this family is because they are flexible.  Every now and then I can just ask for a day off, or an early pick up, or even an alternate pick up location.  It's nice to have that flexibility, and that's worth a few hundred dollars a year.  Not only that, but the baby is much easier than the last baby I had.  One of the babies I watched in the last few years cried from the moment they arrived until the moment mommy came to pick up.  I know I have a good thing.  

Anyway, after I spoke with the mother tonight about the new financials for the year, I got a little nervous that they think I'm trying to rip them off or something.  I know I'm fair.  I know I'm actually worth more than I'm charging.  I've checked on Craigslist and the want ads, as well as with other mothers who watch kids in their homes.  I've even heard of one woman who pays twice what I charge for the "same" service I provide.  

I hate how powerless money talks make me feel.  HATE IT.  Sorry, just needed to vent.  I will spend the night worrying, and probably part of tomorrow while I wait for the family to get back to me and either accept my offer or counter it.  ~ uhg.

"don't forget your towel"

Today I was reminded of one of my all time favorite books, The HitchHikers Guide to the Galaxy.  Please, do not be confused by the movie version of this book.  It could have been a good movie, but they've screwed it up twice...  It's a great book though.  It advises several things that are SO true, for one, "wiping a towel around the edge of a tequila bottle probably kills more germs on the towel than it removes from the bottle"....  another- "The Meaning Of Life cannot be summed up by one question or one answer".... but I think the most important thing that the book says is, "Don't forget your towel".  

No matter what you are doing or where you are going, a towel will come on handy.  Can use it as a towel, a blanket to keep you warm, a sun shade and a security item.  So today, as I was darting out of my house to go running with I-pod in hand and Gatorade in the other, I stuffed a tiny baby washcloth in my bra strap.  Best move of the day.  I bet there are some women who could run 6 miles (or nearly 6 in my case) in 100 degree* weather without burning their eyes w/ sweat... but I'm not one of them.  *'twas 88 when we returned from our run, practically "cool".  When I run I pour sweat.  I felt like someone was wringing the water from my body and the only place it could escape was INTO MY EYES!  Anyway, my little towel saved me today.  It was small enough to tuck in when I was done, but large enough to be handy.  I don't intend to leave with out it again.  Won't I look sexy on my runs from now on with a little pink and yellow baby wash cloth tucked into my shirt.  Haha. 

So today was my first long run with a group.  It was fun, but I did feel a little like a North America Lemming as I jogged (sprinted) across Staple Mill Road following the pack.  Everyone ended up so far ahead of me that I finished my run about 6 minutes behind them!  Considering that I ran 6 miles and they all ran 7 only a few minutes more than it took me...   I'll try not to be depressed, and even if I am, I can always cry into my towel.

Looking forward to more torture next week when I have to figure out how to keep up on an even longer run.  Perhaps you could all leave a little trail of bread crumbs for me to follow?

Swimwear, Squish, & some T&A

Four score and seven pounds ago I had a hot body that wore a skimpy two piece swim suit....  And then... I turned 12.  No really, that's not true.  Off and on over the past X years I have had times when I looked amazing, i.e. I was fit/muscled.  But I got married and pregnant in one fell swoop... and since then I've been pretty squishy.  That's definitely the word.  Tofu-ness isn't a word, but if it was, it would describe my abs.  White & squish.  Not appealing at all in a swim suit, if you can imagine.

I went shopping for a new suit yesterday.  I didn't want a bikini.  I'm not cut out for that because, well, I'm not cut.  We've already established that, but when I saw this one awesome suit on the rack I thought, I could never wear anything like that again. Initially, I was so sad that I decided I would try it on to remind myself that I can at least have a nostalgia moment.  Well, it didn't look that bad.  In fact, I think it looked as good as any suit I put on in the last 8 or so years.  

So, yesterday I bought a two piece swim suit.  It's madness, I don't buy two pieces.  It's cute though, and the person shopping with me is brutally honest.  I have to admit, maybe a little too brutal sometimes, but at least honest.  I had to question whether or not the suit I bought is really that good, or if the one I tried on before it was so bad that anything would be an improvement.  Honest V, "It's not perfect, but you have had 3 kids.  It looks pretty amazing for 3 kids."  I don't want to make excuses, but I'll take that I guess.

I was challenged by someone who said, "Ok, so you bought it, but will you wear it?"  So today, in honor of that person... for the first time since 1998, I wore a 2 piece bikini.  I exposed my WHITE belly to the WHOA pool.  Not my most shining moment, but...I should have done this years ago.  

Talk about motivation to eat healthy.  I ate like a champ today.  7-9 fruits/veggies... actually, I ate vegetarian today... hmmm.  Ok, I digress, I stayed off the Doritos and snacked sensibly, drank plenty of water, etc.  All because every time I looked in my pantry I thought, "I bought that suit, I am going to need to lay off the crap if I'm planning on wearing it with any pride."  AGAIN, I should have done this YEARS ago!!!  Anyway, Thanks R, T & A for helping me gain back some semblance of my self esteem as well as my waist.

Training plan... 2.0- Maybe...

Ok, so you want to hear something amazing.  When I googled, training half marathon chocolate, etc... I got a HIT.  No kidding.  I found a site that lists the 15 best foods for running and astonishingly, it had about 12 of my FAVORITE foods on it!  I should have started running AGES ago!  I don't want to bore you all with my training & food obsessions.  We've already established that I am obsessed with food, but at least I've found a "diet" that has dark chocolate listed as (nearly) a health food.  

Onto other subjects I am struggling with my running.  Occasionally I kick a**, I run fast and free and end my journey in a grand flourish.  But most days I huff and puff through my first 2 miles, and then I drag myself to the end of mile 3 and practically lay down on the driveway.  Or, if I'm on a 4 mile run, the first 3 miles are miserable and the last mile is great.  What is this?  Am I doomed?  I've heard that people who run get 'high'.  What am I doing wrong?  Running too slow?  Too fast?  Walking too much?  Not enough?  Not running far enough?  Running too far?  I guess the next week is going to be all about trial and error while I noodle with my schedule to make it more restful and efficient all at the same time.

My schedule, I confess, has been a bit, um, full.  I've been doing SS 4 days, running 4 days, and often those days overlap.  I also still have to walk my dogs, so even on my rest days I'm walking 2 miles.  And about one day a week I walk 2 miles, run 3 miles, and then attend SS at Maymont of all places.  I like Maymont.  I like the social aspect, the hills, the beauty and nostalgia.  I like that B-ridge and Liz B like Maymont too and enjoy the "dogdogs", also known as "pigs".  But... sometimes I wonder if I'm becoming a little addicted to being out of my house.  I mean, avoiding laundry is practically a hobby of mine, but maybe I've carried it a bit far.

I have questioned if maybe I am cross training too vigorously and that I should lay off one of my SS days.  Maybe I need a different social outlet... I probably drive the SS trainers mad with my talking anyway & they'll be glad that I'm going to take a day off per week until I get through my funk....  Na, they love me.  In the mean time, I'm going to try to continue to come to SS, but I won't push as hard on my run days.  Maybe....

Camping with the Girlscouts

When the Dr. showed me the tiny fluttery heart beat on the ultrasound machine, I pictured my life with a baby.  I imagined dressing the baby, feeding the baby, teaching the baby to talk, walk, etc.  I guess I never pictured anything past "baby", and I know I never imagined taking the baby on a camping trip.  Lighting a camp fire with the baby.  Getting eaten by mosquitos with the baby.  Doing Archery with the baby.  Riding horses with the baby.  And yet, there I was this weekend doing all these things on the most amazing camping trip I have ever experienced.  Yes, babyhood is great, and I loved every minute of it, but 8 is great too.

(Oh, and a warning, the past 8 years have flown by.  Those of you with six month olds probably can't imagine it, but in a few "days" you'll also have an 8 year old.)

I'm sure one of the things that made the camping experience "amazing" was the fact that my "baby", now 8 year old beauty queen to be C is one of the most wonderful campers ever.  She is flexible (an important trait in a camper), willing to try anything (also impressive) and sleeps through the night.  It astonishes me that there are 10 year olds who don't sleep through the night.  There's a goal to have, "By the time she's 10, I want her sleeping through the night".  Talk about setting the bar low!  But alas, I could post 8008 words on how great it was & how amazing it was to watch my great 8 climb a 45ft wall, but why not just post a photo?