Ta-Do

on my 'ta do' list is study for my final exams. There are 3 left and one of them is worth 30% of my grade. Basically, you can f*%# it up and fail the class, even if you go in with an A. For the record, I don't plan on f*%#ing it up.

also on my 'ta do' list is be a mom. There are 3 kids to consider, and at an average of 12 math problems per kid per night, this shouldn't be an issue, but damn... sometimes it's a FREAKING ISSUE.

items also on the list are train to swim, bike, and run and not drown. or suck. not sucking at swimming biking and running all seems like a sound a reasonable plan.

and let's not forget further down the 'ta do' list is drive a taxi service. If you don't like driving, I'd advise you have only one child, or only have dogs. Dogs are great actually, I understand they like to walk.

'Ta do' list also includes be thankful the car started today. or better yet, just plain old, be thankful.

Something happened today that reminded me to keep it in perspective. It should be on my 'ta do' list.

My perspective was brought to me by my favorite therapist. She's black. I only mention it because she sheds, and wearing white is a challenge. She reminded me that

today is the best day ever.

You want to know why? Because I took her for walk this morning before I left the house.
We walked NO WHERE.
In a 5 minute CIRCLE, if you will.
And yet, it was THE BEST DAY EVER because, it just was...  it was the day she got to spend 5 minutes with me, savoring our time together. She smiled the whole time. And even though it wasn't our longest or most adventurous walk, she was all wagging and smiles and sloppy wet kisses when we got home.

And here's the truth of my life.

Today is just what I make of it. Maybe I'll be a good mom, be a great athlete, or be neither and do nothing but take a walk with my dog...  it's all how I look at it.

So today, was the best day ever... 

even though it wasn't.

~savor the run~

There's Kissed, and then there's Kona Kissed

Kona

It sounds delicious doesn’t it?

Kona makes me think of something decadent.

Something I want to taste. Something I want to savor intimately for hours on end until salty sweat trails in rivulets down the contours of my lush body and breathless gasps of pleasure escape my parted lips.

Oh for sure, I’ll be out of breath in the company of Kona.

How we got from no action at all to something as truly sexy as Kona is a long story. I really can't tell you for fear of boring you all to tears... it's generally about deviant minivans, ridiculousness, clumsy sweaty afternoons at Poor Farm, “that’s what she said”, and one charming 21 year old.

“Hey, what do you think of this one?”

I borrowed this photo from KONAWORLD

“It’s a sexy bike, but...”

Just before the holidays I found myself standing in Richmond Bicycle Studio talking to the ridiculously charming lead mechanic about the merits of a women’s specific Kona versus the 29er I was trying out from a competitor’s shop.

SO...

I kept comparing it to driving a tank. I mean, seriously, I drive a fecking sucktastic beige minivan 99% of my time. For once I'd like to have something agile to tool around on...

After riding the 29er for a week, I concluded that it was too much to handle. Every time I rode it I nearly damaged the parts of my body I would seriously prefer NOT to damage. (there’s a TACO post out there on the internet somewhere that can clarify that, but I’m SO not going into details).

...and ultimately, the 29er was too big to enjoy.

That’s what she said.

Once I tried the Kona there was no going back. It was love.

seriously, this is the
end of the grip...
The 21YearOld says
it's called the
Kona Kiss

This isn’t going to turn into a Kona ad. I swear it’s not, but the attention to detail on the women's specific design warrants a closer look if you're looking at mountain bikes. The stock saddle is freakishly nice... I mean, if you're into Tacos & #junk. 

And I don’t mean to turn this into a RBS ad, except it could become one pretty fast. There are lots of nice places to buy a bike in RVA, but if you want to know WHY I ended up at RBS, go here, and click around for about 14 seconds until you get here.

Now, TRY to give me a good argument to buy anything cycling related at another shop? I’d be hard pressed to do so.

Also, even if you over look that they give 100% of the proceeds of their sales to a non-profit that actually does good, they tossed in a free sticker for my whip.

The sucktastic beige minivan never looked so sexy in her life. 
I think my street cred is up a solid 2%. 

Maybe... 3%.... 

~Savor the ride~

And that's how I know that B'nut is gifted

Just so you all know, B'nut is probably gifted.

I'm not saying this just because she spells her name Bribget, and recognizes most of the letters of the alphabet.

"What else starts with H?"  

"PUMPKIN!"

"or... Halloween?"

"Or Pumpkin."

But the main reason I believe she is gifted is because of the conversation I had with her the other day.

We were in the beige mini van driving to school.

Well, she was riding.

I was sadistically trying to run down the squirrel that refused to get out of the middle of the road.  Seriously, suicide squirrel...

AND B'nut says, "Look mom, the Baby Girl Squirrel grew up to be a Mommy Squirrel."

And I said, "Yes B'nut.  Baby Girl Squirrels grow up to be Mommy Squirrels."

AND THEN I quickly added, 


"Baby girl squirrels can also grow up to be scientists squirrels, or Dr squirrels or the President of the United Squirrels of America...."

"Or runner squirrels?"

"Yes, B'nut.  Or Runner Squirrels".

I love that Runner falls on the "scale" right up there with Md. and President.

Taper Island, Day 8

20 Mile Prep Talk

I don't need therapy...
it's just duct tape...
wrapped around a running shoe...
what?

As my H prepares to take ALL.3.Kids camping this weekend (without me – cue the music), I’m prepping for my last 20 of this training cycle.  There’s a little part of me that’s skipping about doing a happy dance in anticipation of no more long runs before Richmond.  That's right.  I'm packing my bags for Taper Island! 

and...

There’s a little part of me that’s thinking it might be time to get the prescriptions filled because I don’t know if anyone here remembers what the Taper was like last year, but it was ~ah~ entertaining?...  Maybe entertaining’s NOT the word.   I did produce some really weird (and pointless) art last year during the Taper-Tantrum… 

So it’s my last 20.

So, a jug, a triangle and a roll of
tape walk into a bar...

It’s the first 20 for some runners this weekend.  I met two the other night, and I remember walking away from them thinking, “Oh, wait, they have their first 20 this weekend…I should say…” and then, like an ADHD 8 year old I immediately lost my train of thought.  It's not my fault, there were 2891 people vying for my attention.

Ok.  2.  There were 2 people… 

I think though, that what is so exciting about this weekend’s 20 miler is that I know something that the novice runners don’t realize.  There’s NOTHING like laying down a 20 mile run.  No matter how (well) or (not well) it goes. 

Don't Panic!

If it’s EPIC, you can come off euphoric with the knowledge that you are a FREAKING RUNNING MACHINE and you are going to CRUSH the Richmond Marathon.

If it’s an EPIC FAIL, you can come off the run with the knowledge that on race day there’s going to be THOUSANDS of people lining the streets of RVA ready to cheer for you and you are going to CRUSH the Richmond Marathon. 

It’s funny, at the end of my first 20, which was, um… yeah… I remember thinking “huh.  It’s so anticlimactic.”  We were an hour or so later than we should have been.  We were dehydrated as we slogged back down the street to TMB’s house to finish the run.  But we'd RUN 20 MILES, and there was nothing waiting for me except a ride home in a sucky beige minivan. 

On race day, it will feel NOTHING like a 20 miler.  I assure you.  

I’m not sugar coating it, it’s still going to be hard, but seriously people, no one signs up to run a marathon with the idea that it’s going to be easy.  AND if they do, they’re sadly living in The State of Denial.  Heckfireandshoot – they’re probably the Governator of that State…. 

But ON the day of The Show.  When you come out to RUN LIKE SNOT (or to be COOL LIKE SNOW) (or to TRY NOT TO SUCK) (or to COWBOY UP)… or to just hunt down and chick every Red Shirt you see… it won’t be anything like that 20 miles to nowhere.

It will be so much better.

~savor the run~

22 miles to nowhere

"Oh my...i had no idea training for a marathon would be this much fun!"

A quote from a new posse member.  Maybe she didn’t know... it's her first marathon... but there's a reason we do this the way we do it.  T & I have done it "the other way", and with a giant group of giggling people is far superior.  Are there advantages to running alone?  Sure... sure there are...

But when the weather is hot and you know you have a week of solo beach running ahead, you treasure those miles with your group.

I ran 22 miles this weekend.  Not one step was unsupported.  

Mike-n-Ike, sugar drips, running skirts and socks... are all good... 

Mid run 3L pick up... brought back good memories ...

Clearly being called out by Coach Black & Those People... was worth a free smile....

Yes, 22 miles in 2 days, and every mile was fun.  Even the hard ones.

Kc, 3L, g.

At GBA we have RULES.  The RULES we “enforce” within our GBA group are very clear. 

GBA Rule = Have more FUN than anyone else on the course.

As a team we travel as a pack, for the most part.  Our GBA crew cycles together, swims together, runs together… drinks together, shops together.  Because we’re such a large and diverse group of women (and guy) we are able to mix and match, and it’s always new and fresh.

For the first few weeks of MTT we even had a successful carpool.  As the weeks have gone on, the “pool” has dwindled, and this week, everything kind of went up in smoke.  Everyone was doing their own thing.  Which is fine, but the result was that we drove in separately. 

So T & I arrived early to run 2 before the 10, because with San Fran on the horizon, 12 miles made sense.  When we got back to the stadium after the two miles, we regrouped and set out to Run in the SNOW. (MTT Yellow SNOW)

T, Triple Threat Leslie (3L), Mustang Sally & our newest Posse member, VWB were all running together when I teased Mustang Sally about her preference to ride down to the city alone…

And Mustang Sally countered with ~like~ in a near miss on a Valley Girl accent (which is real a trick because she’s Aussie)…

“Well, this week I rode down in Volkswagen Blond’s super cute car… which is way cool.”

VWBlond smiled…

And I was ~like~ “no.way.  VWBlond?

Are you trying to tell me that you think your convertible volkswagen beetle is ~ like ~ cooler than my beige mini-van?”

The thing is VWB has the cutest laugh, it makes me laugh… so now we’re running and laughing, and while running and laughing are not mutually exclusive…  it’s hard to do one and the other if you’re trying to do both well.

Fortunately for GBA we’re always able to know when to sacrifice the run for the laugh, or vise-versa.   Sometimes this means sucking it up and running through the ‘pain’.  Sometimes this means standing in the middle of the street in Twickory with our hands on our knees, tears running down our faces, trying to catch our breath so we can hear 3L as she jogs ahead continuing with her story…

after the run snack at SpeeDee's car.
me, Triple Threat L, SpeeDee, VWBlond, Mustang Sally, T
 (oh, and I'm holding the watermelon away from my white skirt)

The sunny Sunday 12 miles were fine.  My legs were tired by the end, and all I wanted to do was pick up the pace to get it over with.  We didn't though.  We ran in our "pace zone", which... is kinda hard.  

I loved the company.  I loved the moment.  I loved when T passed 900 miles and we all gave a little cheer in a joyful chorus.

The post run powwow, the slice of watermelon, the giggling and the ~nearly~ inappropriate jokes?  They made all the tiredness vanish.  Because, well, I don't really know the science of it... and I don't care to...  

Yes, 22 miles in 2 days, and every mile was fun.  Even the hard ones.

~savor the run~

BLUE Business

In my blue-ness I was thinking about my blog, and how much it has evolved over the past few months as I became completely obsessed with running and art, and how my blogging about mommy-hood has decreased.  Of course, this whole reflection was made at 7:45am as I was listening to Eminem's Business while driving my Beige Mini-van home from the grocery store- and who else but a MOM would be DONE grocery shopping that early?  *for the record, I was alone in the van. my 4 year old doesn't know the unlyrical lyrics just yet...

My beauty process today included brushing my hair, swiping my fingers under my eyes, and brushing my teeth, before dressing in running clothes.  I'm not wearing them because I was running, though.  I changed into clean running clothes after my run.  The reason I'm in running clothes is because A) my wardrobe is pitifully small and B) I had 15 minutes to make a 25 minute grocery run. C) it's the day before ThanksGiving and frankly... running clothes seemed appropriate.

As I was sprinting through the store grabbing bananas, milk and eggs, which, by the way, are as far away from each other in the 13 acre grocery store as physically possible, I'm certain I was looking a bit like a half crazed lunatic.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw a magazine with Brad & Angie on the cover.

Ever since Angie and I were pregnant together, I feel a certain sisterhood to her, you know?  We're just alike.  Except that she's a 109 pound 6ft tall beautiful, rich, husband stealing, humanitarian, model-slash-actress married to Brad who can afford to hire 28 people to help with her mob of kids.

But, other than that, we're just alike.

We're moms who have the nerve to go to the store wearing no makeup and a scowl.

Of course, the true difference is that no one in Kroger is going to publicly criticize me for buying Frosted Fruity Oh's for my sick child because she's miserable and I thought, "Oh, I'll buy something she doesn't normally get so she can have some calories."  Sure, someone might quietly look in my cart and think, why would she buy that crap, but they're not going to publish it on a cover of anything.

But my life is like Angie's - or so the cover of the magazine tells me.  We're struggling with some "depression" thingy, while surrounded by kids and the staff who helps us care for them... wait... my staff has failed to show up for work 10 years in a row...

Life is messy, cluttered with a side of childhood, topped with a helping of junk mail, served with the chaos of 5 people in one space.  And, for the most part, I'm OK with that, Blues and all... And on that note, I think I'll put on some hard core rap and get down to the Business of mommy-hood, Hosting Thanksgiving, and all the junk that goes in between.