Patrick and I recently decided to let a homeless family live with us...I mean, it IS Christmas after all. So after interviewing a few prospective candidates, we decided on our good friends, Abby and Steve (and we let them bring their kids too). Kidding aside, we were blessed to be able to share our home with this fabulous family for a little while...and Patrick and I both tried very hard to reign in the deranged zoo that is our household and appear semi-normal for 10 days. This is much harder than it sounds.
I started off the weirdness several weeks before when I announced at Bible study that our son would be sleeping in our closet for the duration of their stay. A few of the fellow moms in the room broke out some seriously horrified expressions. Apparently it is not normal to put your son in a closet to sleep. Or maybe it's not normal to have a closet the size of a bedroom. Whatever the case, normal it ain't.
On the day they moved in, the presence of Claire (our demon possessed cat) made it essential that I lay down our house rules immediately after their arrival. And when your first and only house rule is "Don't leave any baby bottle nipples or sippy cup tops unattended for more than a quarter of a second," I tend to think you automatically get some normal points taken away.
Also immediately after their arrival, Rudy (Abby and Steve's dog) must have questioned Dr. Vezer's credentials, resulting in a dog fight and leaving The Good Doctor irritated and crabby for the duration of their stay. Quixx then thought he would lighten the mood by showing Abby and Steve just how well endowed he thinks he is by proudly displaying his family jewels. Oy.
The next morning came our next normality mess-up...but I must plead ignorance on this one. I really didn't know that it is not normal to sleep in until 9 (or 10) a.m. when you are home with your child (before you go turning me in to child protective services, please note that my child also sleeps that late...yes, even in the closet). Nor did I know that normal people can get themselves and two children ready, fed, and out of the house before 9 a.m. (I am still inclined to think that this is above and beyond normal...but that could just be my laziness talking). I promise myself as I sleepily wander down the stairs at 9:30 and find myself quite alone and in my pajamas, that I will do better tomorrow. (But I don't.)
Fast forward a couple of days, and the grand finale of craziness came during our Bible study's Christmas party, which I had agreed to host. Claire, Oti, and The Honorable Judge Colonel Reverend Felix Ulysses Cornelis Barbosa Cheshire the Third, Leader of the Spanish Inquisition, part-time Pirate and Cat of Wealth (if THAT doesn't prove that we are entirely normal, I don't know WHAT does...) continued to show their true nature by knocking a borrowed crock-pot (sorry again, Katire!!) off our counter and smashing it into a million pieces. I was going to use it to make pulled pork...but don't worry, even though the party started at 5:00 pm and it was now 1:00 pm, I hadn't bought the pork yet. Just call me Kelsey Stewart.
Because I am obviously an excellent party planner, I decided not to worry about it (or cleaning my house) and I roped my mom into going Christmas shopping instead. I figured I'd pick up Cane's chicken for an instant main dish, and voila! Problem would be solved. But when I pulled into the Cane's drive-thru and realized how much it would cost to buy chicken for that many people...I instantly changed my incredibly cheap mind. At 3:00 pm, I lamely ordered my mom and I both a piece (mostly because I am too wimpy to tell the faceless drive-thru speaker that I didn't want anything) and pulled away without a main dish. For the 20 guests. That would be at my dirty house in 2 hours.
So I got home with a pre-cooked ham from GFS in hand and I started hurriedly shoving clutter and assorted things into random drawers, closets, and rooms; all the while trying to figure out how exactly you fix a ham (since of course I've never done that before). I asked Steve whether Abby is ever this disorganized. His reply? "If she is, I don't know about it." Double Oy. Trust me, Patrick knows ALL about it.
But I think we recovered nicely and really were able to show them just how normal of a family we are when we wrapped Claire up and attempted to give her away in the white elephant gift exchange. Totally.unequivocally.normal.
Despite all these social blunders, we really enjoyed getting to spend some time with some of our favorite people (and having dinner made when I got home from work was awesome!) And hopefully we reigned in the weirdness enough that they were able to enjoy it a little bit too. Because trust me, despite all evidence to the contrary, we really were on our best behavior. I mean, Patrick was even able to refrain from talking to the asparagus in the refrigerator until after they left...
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Monday, December 17, 2012
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else
Patrick and I celebrated our five year wedding anniversary this past Saturday! So that makes us married for 5 years, together for 10.5 years, friends for 15 years, and general acquaintances for approximately 29 years. Now, I could be sappy and tell you how great my hubby is (who else would put up with me??)...but I prefer to give you a running highlight reel of our many, many years together! I'm going to risk a copyright infringement here and call this the "Kelsey and Patrick Not Top Ten."
1. Sunday School Macaroni Art. Patrick is on the far left, I'm the one with the long blonde hair and the bow. I know the picture is fuzzy, but I think I have the glue AND the ribbon that Patrick and I were supposed to be sharing. Kelsey 1, Patrick 0.
2. High school Spanish Project, Junior Year. Patrick is supposed to be Don Quixote. Please notice that Patrick is not only covered in aluminum foil and cotton balls, we also made him pretend to read that Latino gossip magazine with a boy band on the cover. Kelsey 2, Patrick, 0.
3. Spain Trip, Summer of 2001. My dress is really too short for even a teenager, I had just taken my hair out of the cornrows that it had been braided in for the previous two weeks, and the strap to my passport pouch is totally sticking out. Patrick still wears that EXACT same outfit (including the hat). Kelsey 2, Patrick 1.
4. High School Spanish Project, Senior Year. Patrick still wears this outfit too. Kelsey 3, Patrick 1.
5. Senior Prom. Patrick and I were starting to sorta-kinda-maybe like each other...but due to a misunderstanding, Patrick got "confused" and asked one of my friends instead of me. I'm assuming its probably the hair-do that scared him off. Kelsey 3, Patrick 2.
6. Praque. Despite Patrick's best efforts, his hair-do did not scare me off. Kelsey 4, Patrick 2.
7. Our wedding, December 15, 2007. Patrick's snowstorm 'curse' continues when it suddenly dumps a foot of snow within the course of 4 hours. I feel as though I should have known better than to plan an important event that involves Patrick in the winter. Kelsey 4, Patrick 3.
8. Italy. During our honeymoon, Patrick and I each picked a place to go before we had kids. I picked Italy, Patrick picked Australia. Good thing I got to go first. Kelsey 5, Patrick 3.
9. Quixx arrives! I pretty much had been begging for a second dog for the duration of our marriage. I think Patrick finally decided that I wasn't giving up and that it might be easier just to give in. Kelsey 6, Patrick 3.
10. Our 5th anniversary. Dinner is Jersey Mike's subs, eaten in the car in the parking lot of the Columbus Zoo. Romantic? Maybe not. Cheap? For sure. Kelsey 6, Patrick 4.
In review, it appears that I am coming out slightly ahead in this marriage. And maybe our 5th anniversary wasn't spent the EXACT way I pictured it many years ago. But it's safe to say it was much, much better than I ever could have dreamt...
7. Our wedding, December 15, 2007. Patrick's snowstorm 'curse' continues when it suddenly dumps a foot of snow within the course of 4 hours. I feel as though I should have known better than to plan an important event that involves Patrick in the winter. Kelsey 4, Patrick 3.
9. Quixx arrives! I pretty much had been begging for a second dog for the duration of our marriage. I think Patrick finally decided that I wasn't giving up and that it might be easier just to give in. Kelsey 6, Patrick 3.
In review, it appears that I am coming out slightly ahead in this marriage. And maybe our 5th anniversary wasn't spent the EXACT way I pictured it many years ago. But it's safe to say it was much, much better than I ever could have dreamt...
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Stoned
Although I apparently am self-motivated enough to train for and finish a marathon, I appear to not be motivated enough to occasionally get a glass of water for myself. Post marathon, I sort-of-half-heartedly-tried-to-kinda stay hydrated enough to recover. But I failed. Miserably.
About 10 days after the marathon, I started having a single symptom that I felt at the time was probably due to a urinary tract infection. But, I wasn't having any other problems; so I went to the doctor, who assured me that it was not a UTI...but did not provide me with any other answers to why I was having a problem in the first place. He referred me to a urologist, whom I made an appointment with for the following week, and that was that.
Until a few days later, when I woke up in the middle of the night with a cramp in my side and back. At first, it didn't seem too major; I even went downstairs to Google my symptoms (you know, cause that always works...) Eventually however, it got bad enough that I told my hubby I needed to go to to ER. As we waited for my in-laws to come stay with our son, the pain got bad. Then really bad. Then really bad. Then REALLY EXCRUCIATINGLY BAD.
So at 4:30 in the morning, Patrick drove me to the ER. I'm sure that was a fun drive for him. I mean, while puking / barely retaining consciousness because of the pain, I was, no doubt, a wonderful conversationalist. I think it went something like this:
Patrick: Where should I park?
Me: VALET THE STUPID CAR!!! I NEED PAIN MEDS!!!
Patrick: I can't valet, I don't have any cash!
Me: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! JUST PARK THE DANG CAR!!! NOW!!!!!!
You get the idea. Well, the nice people at the ER got me the aforementioned pain meds...and my conversations got a lot, um, happier. According to Patrick (because I sure don't remember it) the phone call to my boss went a little something like this:
Me (high pitched squeal): Hiiiii!! Guess who has two thumbs and isn't coming to work today?!?!?! THIS GIRL!!!!!!!! Hahahaha!!!
Dean: Um, okay. Well, you rest up.
A CT scan showed that I had a kidney stone, and that it had damaged my ureter on its way to my bladder. And although I felt pretty good (who am I kidding...I felt really freakin' good) when I was on the dilaudid, when that wore off, the pain was still pretty severe from the damage. So Patrick filled my pain med prescription and I begrudgingly took them. Keep in mind that I am a light-weight in the drug department, so please accept my humblest apologies if you were one of the many people who got loopy text messages from me during this time.
So this experience has taught me a few things. First, a lesson in personal responsibility. Just because the marathon is ridiculous enough to not have water available at the finish line doesn't mean that I don't have to be diligent with my own hydration. Second, a lesson in drug abuse. Narcotics + cell phone = bad idea. Third, a lesson in money management. The ER smartly has an ATM right outside its door, so don't be afraid to valet when necessary. Finally, a lesson in pain rankings. Kidney stone > 10 lb baby > marathon. If you don't believe me, just ask Patrick. After all, his 'wife screaming at me' rankings look remarkably similar...
P.S.- I have decided to periodically continue updating this blog. Namely, when I have something interesting to write about. I make no promises that any content will contain a bit of relevance. :)
About 10 days after the marathon, I started having a single symptom that I felt at the time was probably due to a urinary tract infection. But, I wasn't having any other problems; so I went to the doctor, who assured me that it was not a UTI...but did not provide me with any other answers to why I was having a problem in the first place. He referred me to a urologist, whom I made an appointment with for the following week, and that was that.
Until a few days later, when I woke up in the middle of the night with a cramp in my side and back. At first, it didn't seem too major; I even went downstairs to Google my symptoms (you know, cause that always works...) Eventually however, it got bad enough that I told my hubby I needed to go to to ER. As we waited for my in-laws to come stay with our son, the pain got bad. Then really bad. Then really bad. Then REALLY EXCRUCIATINGLY BAD.
So at 4:30 in the morning, Patrick drove me to the ER. I'm sure that was a fun drive for him. I mean, while puking / barely retaining consciousness because of the pain, I was, no doubt, a wonderful conversationalist. I think it went something like this:
Patrick: Where should I park?
Me: VALET THE STUPID CAR!!! I NEED PAIN MEDS!!!
Patrick: I can't valet, I don't have any cash!
Me: ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! JUST PARK THE DANG CAR!!! NOW!!!!!!
You get the idea. Well, the nice people at the ER got me the aforementioned pain meds...and my conversations got a lot, um, happier. According to Patrick (because I sure don't remember it) the phone call to my boss went a little something like this:
Me (high pitched squeal): Hiiiii!! Guess who has two thumbs and isn't coming to work today?!?!?! THIS GIRL!!!!!!!! Hahahaha!!!
Dean: Um, okay. Well, you rest up.
A CT scan showed that I had a kidney stone, and that it had damaged my ureter on its way to my bladder. And although I felt pretty good (who am I kidding...I felt really freakin' good) when I was on the dilaudid, when that wore off, the pain was still pretty severe from the damage. So Patrick filled my pain med prescription and I begrudgingly took them. Keep in mind that I am a light-weight in the drug department, so please accept my humblest apologies if you were one of the many people who got loopy text messages from me during this time.
So this experience has taught me a few things. First, a lesson in personal responsibility. Just because the marathon is ridiculous enough to not have water available at the finish line doesn't mean that I don't have to be diligent with my own hydration. Second, a lesson in drug abuse. Narcotics + cell phone = bad idea. Third, a lesson in money management. The ER smartly has an ATM right outside its door, so don't be afraid to valet when necessary. Finally, a lesson in pain rankings. Kidney stone > 10 lb baby > marathon. If you don't believe me, just ask Patrick. After all, his 'wife screaming at me' rankings look remarkably similar...
P.S.- I have decided to periodically continue updating this blog. Namely, when I have something interesting to write about. I make no promises that any content will contain a bit of relevance. :)
Monday, October 22, 2012
And the Oscar Goes to...
Yesterday I completed my goal of running my 6th marathon! I want to say a BIG thank you to everyone that came out and supported me...you rock! I officially finished in 4:58.52...I was getting very close to that 5 hour mark, so my last mile was an all out "sprint" (relatively speaking of course...I mean, how fast do you really think I can go after I just ran 25 miles????)
Now 5 hours gives you a lot of time to think...and a lot of time to observe those around you. So I would like to present my "Marathon Superlatives" list for the 2012 Columbus Marathon. Drum roll, please....
Best Costume by a Runner: the guy wearing a fluffy, yellow feathered hat that had several kids identify him as Big Bird. His response, "I'M NOT BIG BIRD, OKAY?!?!?!"
Worst Costume by a Runner: the guy dressed up as Super Mario. Hey, the costume was cool. But maybe he should have put a little thought into how running 26 miles in denim overalls was going to feel.
Worst Costume by a Group of Spectators: the 6 or 7 ladies in their late 30s that were dressed up as 'sexy' super heroes. I think there was more spandex used for their costumes than was used for the entire wardrobe of the 15,000+ runners. Think about that.
Best Idea...in Therory: running through the Horseshoe. Yes, it was cool. But at 17.5 miles, my legs did not appreciate running down the steep ramp into the stadium, then promptly running back up the steep ramp out of the stadium. In the words of the lady next to me, "Maybe this should have been in the first couple of miles." Ya think???
Worst Idea...in Theory and in Practice: having no water available at the finish. Me asking for a cup of water should not a special request when I just finished a marathon. Enough said.
Best Spectator Sign: "If it were easy, they'd call it math." Not sure exactly what it means, but I like it :)
Worst Spectator Sign: Any of the signs that ended with "that's what she said." Ew.
Best Spectators: The Nationwide Children's Hospital Patient Champions. This year, Nationwide Children's Hospital dedicated each mile of the race to a child who is suffering from an illness. These children were each at 'their' mile marker, cheering and encouraging the runners with huge smiles on their faces. Even the kids at the later miles, who had been there for several hours by the time I passed them, were still going strong! If you want to read about these incredible children that were literally choking me up while I was running, please visit: http://www.nationwidechildrens.org/marathon-miracle-mile-patients
Worst Spectator: Governor Kasich, who once again did not show up. Come on man...Gov. Taft skipped golfing one Sunday a year to cheer, and even Gov. Strickland was always out there with his $3500 leather jacket and matching driving gloves on! I voted for you, and yet you let me down time and time again. Sigh.
Person I Most Wanted to Punch in the Face: the guy who, as the wheelchair racers were passing going the other way, commented: "That is such a huge advantage. Give me those wheels for a couple of miles!!" Um, sir? Please think about what you just said...and then I'm going to slap you.
Person I Most Wanted to Not Run With: my temporary friend at mile 6 (an older woman who initially seemed innocent enough) who struck up a conversation to tell me about how she has "relieved" her bathroom needs on so many trees across Ohio that if the FBI's bloodhounds had to track her they would get lost. It was at this point I decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to pick up the pace a bit.
Person I Most Wanted to be Friends With: the girl who's running partner at mile 20 was going, "You can do this! You don't need to walk! Insert other inspirational quotes here!" Because it was a friend and not a significant other, I suspect that she kept her mouth shut. But I think I know what was going on inside her head...
Person I Most Wish I Knew Who They Were: the girl that was screaming, "Go Kelsey...go Kelsey Paulus!" at the point where the half marathoners are turning to finish and the full marathoners are going straight. I tried to look...but there were too many people! Whomever you are, thanks! Not only for the words of encouragement, but for distracting my brain for a mile or so while I wondered just exactly who would recognize me amongst throngs of people, and yet not know that I am married. Hmmm....
Biggest Disappointment: no Krispy Kremes at the finish. Somehow, double fisting the two organic granola bars they handed out in our "food bags" just wasn't the same.
And so, another marathon is in the books! So what should be my next running adventure? Pre-baby I wanted to run a 50 miler...I was even signed up for it. But the training takes up so much time; time that I would rather be spending with my little mister. So what now? Speed training to see how fast I can run a 5K? A half-marathon? Sitting on my couch eating a pint of ice cream? And for that matter, what should I do with this blog?? I like writing, and at the very least my mom is enjoying reading it. (At least that's what she says, but really, what is she going to say? She is my mom, after all.) So I will ponder all of that and let you know in the next entry. Suggestions would be welcome. :)
But to sum up this marathon, I am going to claim victory. No, I didn't cross the finish line first...and no, it wasn't even close to a PR. But I made time to run during this hectic thing we call life, and for me that is a success. There is a quote that states "If you want to win something, run 100 meters. If you want to experience something, run a marathon." I will take an experience over a win any day, which is probably why I'll be out there again in the future. Searching for just one more experience, 26.2 miles at a time...
Now 5 hours gives you a lot of time to think...and a lot of time to observe those around you. So I would like to present my "Marathon Superlatives" list for the 2012 Columbus Marathon. Drum roll, please....
Best Costume by a Runner: the guy wearing a fluffy, yellow feathered hat that had several kids identify him as Big Bird. His response, "I'M NOT BIG BIRD, OKAY?!?!?!"
Worst Costume by a Runner: the guy dressed up as Super Mario. Hey, the costume was cool. But maybe he should have put a little thought into how running 26 miles in denim overalls was going to feel.
Worst Costume by a Group of Spectators: the 6 or 7 ladies in their late 30s that were dressed up as 'sexy' super heroes. I think there was more spandex used for their costumes than was used for the entire wardrobe of the 15,000+ runners. Think about that.
Best Idea...in Therory: running through the Horseshoe. Yes, it was cool. But at 17.5 miles, my legs did not appreciate running down the steep ramp into the stadium, then promptly running back up the steep ramp out of the stadium. In the words of the lady next to me, "Maybe this should have been in the first couple of miles." Ya think???
Worst Idea...in Theory and in Practice: having no water available at the finish. Me asking for a cup of water should not a special request when I just finished a marathon. Enough said.
Best Spectator Sign: "If it were easy, they'd call it math." Not sure exactly what it means, but I like it :)
Worst Spectator Sign: Any of the signs that ended with "that's what she said." Ew.
Best Spectators: The Nationwide Children's Hospital Patient Champions. This year, Nationwide Children's Hospital dedicated each mile of the race to a child who is suffering from an illness. These children were each at 'their' mile marker, cheering and encouraging the runners with huge smiles on their faces. Even the kids at the later miles, who had been there for several hours by the time I passed them, were still going strong! If you want to read about these incredible children that were literally choking me up while I was running, please visit: http://www.nationwidechildrens.org/marathon-miracle-mile-patients
Worst Spectator: Governor Kasich, who once again did not show up. Come on man...Gov. Taft skipped golfing one Sunday a year to cheer, and even Gov. Strickland was always out there with his $3500 leather jacket and matching driving gloves on! I voted for you, and yet you let me down time and time again. Sigh.
Person I Most Wanted to Punch in the Face: the guy who, as the wheelchair racers were passing going the other way, commented: "That is such a huge advantage. Give me those wheels for a couple of miles!!" Um, sir? Please think about what you just said...and then I'm going to slap you.
Person I Most Wanted to Not Run With: my temporary friend at mile 6 (an older woman who initially seemed innocent enough) who struck up a conversation to tell me about how she has "relieved" her bathroom needs on so many trees across Ohio that if the FBI's bloodhounds had to track her they would get lost. It was at this point I decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to pick up the pace a bit.
Person I Most Wanted to be Friends With: the girl who's running partner at mile 20 was going, "You can do this! You don't need to walk! Insert other inspirational quotes here!" Because it was a friend and not a significant other, I suspect that she kept her mouth shut. But I think I know what was going on inside her head...
Person I Most Wish I Knew Who They Were: the girl that was screaming, "Go Kelsey...go Kelsey Paulus!" at the point where the half marathoners are turning to finish and the full marathoners are going straight. I tried to look...but there were too many people! Whomever you are, thanks! Not only for the words of encouragement, but for distracting my brain for a mile or so while I wondered just exactly who would recognize me amongst throngs of people, and yet not know that I am married. Hmmm....
Biggest Disappointment: no Krispy Kremes at the finish. Somehow, double fisting the two organic granola bars they handed out in our "food bags" just wasn't the same.
And so, another marathon is in the books! So what should be my next running adventure? Pre-baby I wanted to run a 50 miler...I was even signed up for it. But the training takes up so much time; time that I would rather be spending with my little mister. So what now? Speed training to see how fast I can run a 5K? A half-marathon? Sitting on my couch eating a pint of ice cream? And for that matter, what should I do with this blog?? I like writing, and at the very least my mom is enjoying reading it. (At least that's what she says, but really, what is she going to say? She is my mom, after all.) So I will ponder all of that and let you know in the next entry. Suggestions would be welcome. :)
But to sum up this marathon, I am going to claim victory. No, I didn't cross the finish line first...and no, it wasn't even close to a PR. But I made time to run during this hectic thing we call life, and for me that is a success. There is a quote that states "If you want to win something, run 100 meters. If you want to experience something, run a marathon." I will take an experience over a win any day, which is probably why I'll be out there again in the future. Searching for just one more experience, 26.2 miles at a time...
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
American History K
As I prepare for Sunday's race, I also prepare to write the next chapter
in my personal book of running. This book began when I was very small
and I would cheer for my father at his races; like the one in the picture in my last post (which according to him is copyrighted and I will be hearing from his lawyer any day now.)
Now my father, unlike me, is a very good runner. He is very committed to running and doing it well. Growing up watching this, I'm sure there was a part of me that thought, "I want to be just like my dad...and win all these trophies and run in the Boston Marathon and be totally awesome!!!" And so, I started running.
There is some family discrepancy as to what my first race was...my parents claim that it was in Michigan and I ran it with my brother (probably true, but I don't remember it at all) and I claim it was a 5K in Worthington (that I do remember...well, at least I remember which pair of Umbro shorts I wore to it!) Either way, I was about 8 years old and I am sure I did not set a land-speed record. Regardless, I thought I was well on my way to fame and fortune...making the first few chapters of my book nothing but childish dreams of glory.
I grew up a bit and started running cross country and track, where I continued to not set land-speed records. I enjoyed myself, and I got a taste or two of success...but mostly because I was an average runner on an above average team. My running book was more style than substance at this point...a meandering story searching for a plot.
Then, my dad ran his first ultra-marathon. He didn't make the entire 100 miles...but he came pretty close. While my mom and I crewed for him during the race, I saw just how accomplished these runners were...and none of them were setting land-speed records! Watching this, I'm sure I thought, "I want to be just like my dad...and lose a toenail and be so sore that I can't sit down and be totally awesome!!!" And I realized something about my running story: so what if I will never set a land-speed record?? And maybe I never will qualify for Boston. But that doesn't mean I can't be the heroine of my own story, does it???
And so, this story line has dominated the last 12 or so years of my running book, and it will be the stratagem I will use to get me through the race on Sunday. So, what will be the plot of this chapter? Will it be the race to which I will hold up all other races? Will it be a colossal failure during which I will deeply regret skipping most of my mid-distance training runs? Only time will tell, but either way I fully intend on being the heroine crossing that finish line. It is MY story, after all...
Now my father, unlike me, is a very good runner. He is very committed to running and doing it well. Growing up watching this, I'm sure there was a part of me that thought, "I want to be just like my dad...and win all these trophies and run in the Boston Marathon and be totally awesome!!!" And so, I started running.
There is some family discrepancy as to what my first race was...my parents claim that it was in Michigan and I ran it with my brother (probably true, but I don't remember it at all) and I claim it was a 5K in Worthington (that I do remember...well, at least I remember which pair of Umbro shorts I wore to it!) Either way, I was about 8 years old and I am sure I did not set a land-speed record. Regardless, I thought I was well on my way to fame and fortune...making the first few chapters of my book nothing but childish dreams of glory.
 |
| See 'my' trophy?? That's right, I'm awesome!! ;) |
Then, my dad ran his first ultra-marathon. He didn't make the entire 100 miles...but he came pretty close. While my mom and I crewed for him during the race, I saw just how accomplished these runners were...and none of them were setting land-speed records! Watching this, I'm sure I thought, "I want to be just like my dad...and lose a toenail and be so sore that I can't sit down and be totally awesome!!!" And I realized something about my running story: so what if I will never set a land-speed record?? And maybe I never will qualify for Boston. But that doesn't mean I can't be the heroine of my own story, does it???
And so, this story line has dominated the last 12 or so years of my running book, and it will be the stratagem I will use to get me through the race on Sunday. So, what will be the plot of this chapter? Will it be the race to which I will hold up all other races? Will it be a colossal failure during which I will deeply regret skipping most of my mid-distance training runs? Only time will tell, but either way I fully intend on being the heroine crossing that finish line. It is MY story, after all...
Monday, October 8, 2012
Toga! Toga!
During a recent rambling conversation with my running buddy Lisa, she mentioned that she feels runners have a secret club that bonds them together. She also mentioned that she doesn't feel included in this club because she came late to the party (ie: started running as an adult). Of course, I insisted this isn't true at all...runners are awesome and open-minded and accepting of anyone. Right??
Hmmmm, maybe. But as I continued to chew on this tidbit long after our run together ended, I decided that she is more right than I would like to admit. Runners do have some sort of inner community that bonds them together. Similar to a fraternity; kinda like Kappa Kappa Runsalot. I can see it now...
To be considered for membership in KKR, you must have completed a 5K. Now, please be aware that finishing a 5K in no way means that you will be selected. See, here at KKR, we feel running a 5K is easy. Something you do before breakfast, in fact. And if you wore the race t-shirt to the race, you are most definitely OUT.
Once you have completed the 5K benchmark, we will evaluate your daily runs. Please don't feel any pressure, but if you are wearing winter clothes for a run in 40° weather, you can go ahead and head home. And make sure you get plenty of distance when blowing snot rockets, as each little bit will be noted and scored appropriately!
Now that recruitment is over and the pledges have been chosen, we need to explain our hierarchical ranking system. Of course, our senior members are a select few hard-core ultra runners. They include those that have lost toenails, peed in the woods, bled from the nipples, and otherwise given it all in pursuit of the finish. They have 1% or less body fat and their resting heart rate is 12 beats per minute. Please treat them with reverence: let them go first through the buffet line (although that inevitably means there will be nothing left for you) and don't say things like "why would you want to run that far?" Because if you have to ask, you'll never understand.
Next comes our junior members. They are social and probably won't mind if you join them for a run...but keep in mind that no matter how easy they make it look, you likely will not be able to finish. After all, they have been running for years and have become quite the experts. No, no, they don't need GPS, silly; just give them a Timex and they'll know exactly how far they've gone. They know how many ounces they need to drink during a run and the optimal stride to propel themselves up a long incline. They know what words like 'fartlek' mean and think running with music makes you weak. And please don't call their hydration belts fanny packs...it just makes them irritated.
KKR's sophomore class is our most competitive class to date. Yes, they have finished lots of races...and they don't mind telling you all about it. I mean, have YOU finished a 10K in Arizona in the middle of August with no water while wearing a black shirt and fighting off a rattlesnake???? They didn't think so. Oh, and they PRed, by the way. But since their shoes melted, they bought this really expensive pair that they would love to show you. They have matching clothes and every running accessory known to man (salt tablets? check. runner's lube? check. sweat wicking underwear? check.) Prefontaine is their hero and Oregon, their Mecca. They love to run intervals and to go really, really fast. But don't let them intimidate you, after all, the farthest they've ever run is 7 miles.
So that leaves us with you: the pledges. Only time will tell what kind of runners you will be, and trust us, we will be watching closely. What about me, you ask? Well, let's just say that I'm only here because I am a runner's legacy, and there's nothing we love more at KKR than a good bit of nepotism...
Hmmmm, maybe. But as I continued to chew on this tidbit long after our run together ended, I decided that she is more right than I would like to admit. Runners do have some sort of inner community that bonds them together. Similar to a fraternity; kinda like Kappa Kappa Runsalot. I can see it now...
To be considered for membership in KKR, you must have completed a 5K. Now, please be aware that finishing a 5K in no way means that you will be selected. See, here at KKR, we feel running a 5K is easy. Something you do before breakfast, in fact. And if you wore the race t-shirt to the race, you are most definitely OUT.
Once you have completed the 5K benchmark, we will evaluate your daily runs. Please don't feel any pressure, but if you are wearing winter clothes for a run in 40° weather, you can go ahead and head home. And make sure you get plenty of distance when blowing snot rockets, as each little bit will be noted and scored appropriately!
Now that recruitment is over and the pledges have been chosen, we need to explain our hierarchical ranking system. Of course, our senior members are a select few hard-core ultra runners. They include those that have lost toenails, peed in the woods, bled from the nipples, and otherwise given it all in pursuit of the finish. They have 1% or less body fat and their resting heart rate is 12 beats per minute. Please treat them with reverence: let them go first through the buffet line (although that inevitably means there will be nothing left for you) and don't say things like "why would you want to run that far?" Because if you have to ask, you'll never understand.
Next comes our junior members. They are social and probably won't mind if you join them for a run...but keep in mind that no matter how easy they make it look, you likely will not be able to finish. After all, they have been running for years and have become quite the experts. No, no, they don't need GPS, silly; just give them a Timex and they'll know exactly how far they've gone. They know how many ounces they need to drink during a run and the optimal stride to propel themselves up a long incline. They know what words like 'fartlek' mean and think running with music makes you weak. And please don't call their hydration belts fanny packs...it just makes them irritated.
KKR's sophomore class is our most competitive class to date. Yes, they have finished lots of races...and they don't mind telling you all about it. I mean, have YOU finished a 10K in Arizona in the middle of August with no water while wearing a black shirt and fighting off a rattlesnake???? They didn't think so. Oh, and they PRed, by the way. But since their shoes melted, they bought this really expensive pair that they would love to show you. They have matching clothes and every running accessory known to man (salt tablets? check. runner's lube? check. sweat wicking underwear? check.) Prefontaine is their hero and Oregon, their Mecca. They love to run intervals and to go really, really fast. But don't let them intimidate you, after all, the farthest they've ever run is 7 miles.
So that leaves us with you: the pledges. Only time will tell what kind of runners you will be, and trust us, we will be watching closely. What about me, you ask? Well, let's just say that I'm only here because I am a runner's legacy, and there's nothing we love more at KKR than a good bit of nepotism...
 |
| A founding member of KKR, who also happens to be my father. Pay no attention to the creepy park ranger in the background. |
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Pete the Cat says, "I love my NEW shoes!"
Little known fact about me: I have been running in the same kind of shoes since middle school. Yep, that's right...with the approximately 6 billion different kinds of running shoes out there, I have stayed faithful to my Asics Gel Kayanos for 15 years. That shows commitment. Dedication. Devotion. Laziness.
I mean, I really do love these shoes. They fit my feet just right and are specifically made for a "heavier" runner (which I qualify for, since I am significantly taller than the average female runner). And since I know exactly what I want - Asics Gel Kayanos, size 9.5, in whatever color strikes me at the moment - I can sit in my PJs, and just go online and order my shoes and poof! they arrive at my doorstep. Where I can pick them up while still wearing my PJs. No salespeople, no waiting in line, and (most importantly) no schlepping my kid in and out of the store and hoping he behaves for 10 minutes so I can buy my shoes. I mean, if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?
Except as you can clearly see, my last pair of shoes was actually broken. Holes in the toes, holes in the inside lining, zero arch support remaining. Perhaps I got a tad too comfortable in these shoes. And perhaps I put off buying a new pair because at the end of that $145 purchase was going to be the exact same pair of shoes that I have worn for the last 15 years straight. Where's the excitement in that? Heck, would it really be so hard to get a babysitter so that I can go out to the store and pick out a pair of shoes for goodness sakes?!?! I'm a woman with (shoe-related) needs after all!!!!
So I was dragging my feet about getting a new pair of shoes. Should I stick with the familiar, or be a little naughty and go for the newer model? The Kayanos and I have been through so much...but are there better shoes out there? Maybe prettier shoes that would appreciate me more?
And then Patrick did the un-thinkable. He told me he was getting Vibram FiveFinger shoes. WHAT?? Those aren't even traditional running shoes!!! They have zero support, no laces, and they just look funny!!! You're just going to chuck your traditional shoes out the window to get some fancy fad shoe??? WHAT ARE YOU THINKING???
My husband's decision to be a running shoe hussy made me realize that maybe the 15 year history with my shoes was something worth fighting for. So I did my runner's duty in this committed relationship: I remained faithful and ordered my 20th-something pair of Asics Gel Kayanos. And you know what? When I opened that box and took a whiff of that new-shoe smell, all the passion and excitement came rushing right back. I carefully laced them just the right (ie: my) way and they looked perfect. And when I took them out on our first run together, I remembered all the awesomeness and why I fell in love with these shoes in the first place. So next time that I need to buy a pair, I won't even question my dedication to my Kayanos. No, not a single second thought from me. Although Patrick would probably like me to be having second thoughts about that $145 price-tag...
I mean, I really do love these shoes. They fit my feet just right and are specifically made for a "heavier" runner (which I qualify for, since I am significantly taller than the average female runner). And since I know exactly what I want - Asics Gel Kayanos, size 9.5, in whatever color strikes me at the moment - I can sit in my PJs, and just go online and order my shoes and poof! they arrive at my doorstep. Where I can pick them up while still wearing my PJs. No salespeople, no waiting in line, and (most importantly) no schlepping my kid in and out of the store and hoping he behaves for 10 minutes so I can buy my shoes. I mean, if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?
Except as you can clearly see, my last pair of shoes was actually broken. Holes in the toes, holes in the inside lining, zero arch support remaining. Perhaps I got a tad too comfortable in these shoes. And perhaps I put off buying a new pair because at the end of that $145 purchase was going to be the exact same pair of shoes that I have worn for the last 15 years straight. Where's the excitement in that? Heck, would it really be so hard to get a babysitter so that I can go out to the store and pick out a pair of shoes for goodness sakes?!?! I'm a woman with (shoe-related) needs after all!!!!
So I was dragging my feet about getting a new pair of shoes. Should I stick with the familiar, or be a little naughty and go for the newer model? The Kayanos and I have been through so much...but are there better shoes out there? Maybe prettier shoes that would appreciate me more?
And then Patrick did the un-thinkable. He told me he was getting Vibram FiveFinger shoes. WHAT?? Those aren't even traditional running shoes!!! They have zero support, no laces, and they just look funny!!! You're just going to chuck your traditional shoes out the window to get some fancy fad shoe??? WHAT ARE YOU THINKING???
My husband's decision to be a running shoe hussy made me realize that maybe the 15 year history with my shoes was something worth fighting for. So I did my runner's duty in this committed relationship: I remained faithful and ordered my 20th-something pair of Asics Gel Kayanos. And you know what? When I opened that box and took a whiff of that new-shoe smell, all the passion and excitement came rushing right back. I carefully laced them just the right (ie: my) way and they looked perfect. And when I took them out on our first run together, I remembered all the awesomeness and why I fell in love with these shoes in the first place. So next time that I need to buy a pair, I won't even question my dedication to my Kayanos. No, not a single second thought from me. Although Patrick would probably like me to be having second thoughts about that $145 price-tag...
Friday, September 21, 2012
T - 30
The marathon is officially one month away! Yep, on Sunday October 21, I will be tackling my 6th marathon head-on. And trust me, I am not above begging asking for help with this! (segue please!)
I would love your support during the marathon! It hopefully will be a nice, fall day in Columbus; and there is clearly no better way to spend it then coming out to cheer me on, right? Come on...pleeeeease?? I'll be your best friend!! How about I give you 5 bucks? I bet your mom would want you to come support your friend! Pretty please with a cherry on top??
Really?? Well, thanks...I'm honored that you would come to cheer for me! Just so you know what to expect, here is a personalized Kelsey course map. Please see below for the thoughts / feelings / ponderings that accompany each number:
1. I see the leaders passing me going the opposite direction...I realize just how slow I am. But not as slow as those people getting water at the first aid station, hahaha...what, are you dehydrated already?!?!
2. I wave at Governor Kasich, who is cheering on the runners in front of the Governor's Mansion. Or, at least I will if he decides to show up this year.
3. I pass the Columbus School for Girls (with the students wo-manning the aid station) and wonder who they go to prom with.
4. I reflect on my high school days of running a cross country race at Franklin Park Conservatory. Didn't I place here once? I wonder what place I'm in right now? Answer: too high to count.
5. I feel so good! This is easy! Wait, did that mile marker just say 9?? I'm only ~1/3rd finished?? WTH??
6. I wonder if the Thurman Cafe has a wait right now? I bet I could just run over, eat a Thurmanator, and run right back and no one would be the wiser! At least, until that Thurmanator hit the pavement...
7. Yeah! There are TONS of people cheering right here! This is awesome!! *passes the half-marathon finish* Wait, now it's silent and there are no fans...?? Annnnnnd I have 13 more miles to go. Super.
8. Since when has High Street been uphill???
9. What is this doubling back nonsense? I mean really people.....Oooo, the Shoe!!!!!!!!
10. I am beginning to re-think laughing at those people who decided to begin hydrating early in the race. Maybe it's not too late...I'll just chug a bunch of water at this aid station.
11. Chugging water = bad choice. Legs.feeling.like.jelly. Only four more miles. Which means at the rate I'm going, I have another two hours left on this forsaken wasteland of a course.
12. There's Battelle. I wonder if they have some sort of cart-like device that could get me the rest of the way to the finish. Of course, it's probably weaponized. And Patrick would probably lose his job if I broke in there. But that just might be a chance I'm willing to take at this point.
13. I'm at least 50% sure I can do this!!
14. I don't care about that medal, volunteer woman! And get that stupid lens out of my face camera-man!!! Now get me a Krispie Kreme stat before I collaspe!!! Num num num...Krispie Kremes...num num num...
So it's really up to you just where along this journey you would like to join me. I know, I know, I made each marker look so appealing that you are having difficulty choosing just one. Which is great because what would be even better than you cheering me on at one spot would be you cheering me on at two spots! Hey, a girl can always dream...
I would love your support during the marathon! It hopefully will be a nice, fall day in Columbus; and there is clearly no better way to spend it then coming out to cheer me on, right? Come on...pleeeeease?? I'll be your best friend!! How about I give you 5 bucks? I bet your mom would want you to come support your friend! Pretty please with a cherry on top??
Really?? Well, thanks...I'm honored that you would come to cheer for me! Just so you know what to expect, here is a personalized Kelsey course map. Please see below for the thoughts / feelings / ponderings that accompany each number:
1. I see the leaders passing me going the opposite direction...I realize just how slow I am. But not as slow as those people getting water at the first aid station, hahaha...what, are you dehydrated already?!?!
2. I wave at Governor Kasich, who is cheering on the runners in front of the Governor's Mansion. Or, at least I will if he decides to show up this year.
3. I pass the Columbus School for Girls (with the students wo-manning the aid station) and wonder who they go to prom with.
4. I reflect on my high school days of running a cross country race at Franklin Park Conservatory. Didn't I place here once? I wonder what place I'm in right now? Answer: too high to count.
5. I feel so good! This is easy! Wait, did that mile marker just say 9?? I'm only ~1/3rd finished?? WTH??
6. I wonder if the Thurman Cafe has a wait right now? I bet I could just run over, eat a Thurmanator, and run right back and no one would be the wiser! At least, until that Thurmanator hit the pavement...
7. Yeah! There are TONS of people cheering right here! This is awesome!! *passes the half-marathon finish* Wait, now it's silent and there are no fans...?? Annnnnnd I have 13 more miles to go. Super.
8. Since when has High Street been uphill???
9. What is this doubling back nonsense? I mean really people.....Oooo, the Shoe!!!!!!!!
10. I am beginning to re-think laughing at those people who decided to begin hydrating early in the race. Maybe it's not too late...I'll just chug a bunch of water at this aid station.
11. Chugging water = bad choice. Legs.feeling.like.jelly. Only four more miles. Which means at the rate I'm going, I have another two hours left on this forsaken wasteland of a course.
12. There's Battelle. I wonder if they have some sort of cart-like device that could get me the rest of the way to the finish. Of course, it's probably weaponized. And Patrick would probably lose his job if I broke in there. But that just might be a chance I'm willing to take at this point.
13. I'm at least 50% sure I can do this!!
14. I don't care about that medal, volunteer woman! And get that stupid lens out of my face camera-man!!! Now get me a Krispie Kreme stat before I collaspe!!! Num num num...Krispie Kremes...num num num...
So it's really up to you just where along this journey you would like to join me. I know, I know, I made each marker look so appealing that you are having difficulty choosing just one. Which is great because what would be even better than you cheering me on at one spot would be you cheering me on at two spots! Hey, a girl can always dream...
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Hot Mess
Now, I know that the first year is supposed to be the roughest as far as
illness goes...but silly me thought that was supposed to be for the child, not the parents. My husband likes to call our son 'plague baby'...but since this latest illness, I'm thinking that perhaps we should stop blaming the baby and just paint a big red 'X' above our front door.
On Sunday I ran an 18 miler and everything was good. During my runs, I often use something fairly silly to motivate me...like "I'm going to drink a big glass of lemonade / Coke / whatever I have in my fridge that is NOT milk when I get home." Now, the irony of this is that I would drink (or eat) whatever I am focusing on anyway, but that's not the point. So for this particular run, it was "I am going to order Chinese food for dinner tonight." And trust me, it tasted good.
Until about 2 in the morning. And then, Patrick and I both got hit with what we thought at the time was food poisoning. Come sun-up, Patrick somehow got himself to work, and I continued to fever chill and muscle ache all over. Except this was fevery muscle aching on steroids. This was I ran 18 mile soreness, cannot keep food or water down to recover from said run, and the typical fevery muscle aching you typically get when sick...all combined to make me unable to even pick my son up. I literally felt like the worst mother in America as I piled him and all of his toys into his crib, and laid there on the ground shivering under a blanket.
If you are reading this blog, I probably thought about calling you for help. Heck, I thought about calling my 92 year old grandmother for help (who, I am sure: A. is not reading this blog; and B. would have no problem telling me that I actually am the worst mother in America. But I was desperate and probably having fever hallucinations.) Lucky for me, I have a wonderful husband who despite being sick himself, came home and took over child-duty until my mom got off school. His exact quote: "I knew you must be really sick when I came home and the little Mister was in disposables (diapers)." If you know my love / obsession with my cloth diapers, you are now beginning to understand just how bad I felt.
I slept fitfully. I sweated through shirts. I took various clothing and blankets on and off my body without realizing it. I dreamt that my body was a storage unit full of weird items that I was selling off (too much Storage Wars?? Yuuup!) My arms were clocks. My left leg was a bicycle. And why didn't anyone want to buy that console table / my right foot? It's worth at least $2 grand!
I soon found out that it was not just our household that needed that 'X' above the door...it was also a select few that we attended a function with on Saturday night. And although I am most definitely not glad that my friends got sick too...somewhere, deep inside my twisted soul, I was a *little* relieved to find out that it wasn't the Chinese food making us sick. Because clearly that would have precluded me from ever ordering from that restaurant again. And I love Dragon House. So, so much love for Dragon House.
The next morning, I was feeling much better. And by today, when I got yet another initiation into motherhood by having to clean up kid-in-the-bed vomit, I almost felt empowered. And I probably would have gotten all the way there too, if it hadn't been ground bison I was rinsing out of my kid's sheets...
On Sunday I ran an 18 miler and everything was good. During my runs, I often use something fairly silly to motivate me...like "I'm going to drink a big glass of lemonade / Coke / whatever I have in my fridge that is NOT milk when I get home." Now, the irony of this is that I would drink (or eat) whatever I am focusing on anyway, but that's not the point. So for this particular run, it was "I am going to order Chinese food for dinner tonight." And trust me, it tasted good.
Until about 2 in the morning. And then, Patrick and I both got hit with what we thought at the time was food poisoning. Come sun-up, Patrick somehow got himself to work, and I continued to fever chill and muscle ache all over. Except this was fevery muscle aching on steroids. This was I ran 18 mile soreness, cannot keep food or water down to recover from said run, and the typical fevery muscle aching you typically get when sick...all combined to make me unable to even pick my son up. I literally felt like the worst mother in America as I piled him and all of his toys into his crib, and laid there on the ground shivering under a blanket.
If you are reading this blog, I probably thought about calling you for help. Heck, I thought about calling my 92 year old grandmother for help (who, I am sure: A. is not reading this blog; and B. would have no problem telling me that I actually am the worst mother in America. But I was desperate and probably having fever hallucinations.) Lucky for me, I have a wonderful husband who despite being sick himself, came home and took over child-duty until my mom got off school. His exact quote: "I knew you must be really sick when I came home and the little Mister was in disposables (diapers)." If you know my love / obsession with my cloth diapers, you are now beginning to understand just how bad I felt.
I slept fitfully. I sweated through shirts. I took various clothing and blankets on and off my body without realizing it. I dreamt that my body was a storage unit full of weird items that I was selling off (too much Storage Wars?? Yuuup!) My arms were clocks. My left leg was a bicycle. And why didn't anyone want to buy that console table / my right foot? It's worth at least $2 grand!
I soon found out that it was not just our household that needed that 'X' above the door...it was also a select few that we attended a function with on Saturday night. And although I am most definitely not glad that my friends got sick too...somewhere, deep inside my twisted soul, I was a *little* relieved to find out that it wasn't the Chinese food making us sick. Because clearly that would have precluded me from ever ordering from that restaurant again. And I love Dragon House. So, so much love for Dragon House.
The next morning, I was feeling much better. And by today, when I got yet another initiation into motherhood by having to clean up kid-in-the-bed vomit, I almost felt empowered. And I probably would have gotten all the way there too, if it hadn't been ground bison I was rinsing out of my kid's sheets...
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Man's Best Friend, Woman's Worst Running Partner
Enter Dr. Vezer, DDS (doctor of doggie stuff). Vezer is too smart for his own good. So much so, that he could very fairly be called arrogant. He knows whether we turn right (to the park) or left (to the vet) at a certain stoplight. He stares at you until you do his bidding. He sits in a chair during dinner. He sleeps under the covers and has no problem awakening you with a punch to the shoulder if you steal said covers. In short, he's sexy and he knows it.
 |
| Vezer, before he needed Just for Vizslas haircolor... |
And it quickly became obvious to anyone who had ever spent more than 5 seconds in the company of a Vizsla (which the vet apparently hadn't) that this breed is possibly the WORST possible dog to have in an apartment. Good thing he was living at my parents house...and destroying their stuff. I mean, after all, I did have a deposit on that apartment...
So that left the running. I eagerly awaited the day that he became old enough to run with me. Picture it, a girl and her faithful canine companion. Running side-by-side into the sunset. Beautiful, right?
The problem here is that The Good Doctor does not participate in activities just because his person likes them. Nor does he lower himself to behaving while on a leash. No, no...he would much rather be sitting pompously on
 |
| Vezer shows you what he thinks of the little person |
We continued in this pattern for several years, until a torn ACL (that was not acquired during running with me) retired Vezer from any 'structured' exercise. All this means is that he is welcome to run around and act like a crazy person with his doggie friends, but I am not allowed to run with him at a leisurely pace. I'm pretty sure he paid the vet to tell me that.
 |
| Quixx agrees. |
So I began to wonder, will things be different with Quixx? Will he love to run beside me, soaking in every last minute of being with his person? Will I finally get my fairy-tale ending of a perfect run with my faithful companion? He is just getting old enough to go on those aforementioned 'structured' runs, but all early signs point to no, no, and no. I'm starting to think that if I expect to ever get that fairy-tale fulfilled, I'm going to have to start pushing them in a wagon. Into the sunset, of course...
Saturday, August 25, 2012
First Time Feeling
My long run this weekend was scheduled to be 16 miles. I finished it, and I felt pretty good...I even told my husband that I felt like I could have gone around 3 more. His response: "That's good, because you're going to have to go 10 more." Thanks for bursting my bubble there, Patrick...
Regardless of his comment, completing 16 miles to me is sort of like a baseline. You see, the very first marathon that I ran, 16 miles was the farthest training run that I completed leading up to the race. Heck, 16 miles was the farthest that I had ever run...and then I attempted to run a marathon. If that screams "MISTAKE!!!" to you, then you can take solace in the fact that you are smarter than my 20 year old self was back then. Because I'm pretty sure I felt adequately trained for that race...I mean, how hard can it really be to run 10 miles farther than you've ever run?? (*insert completely deserved dumb blonde joke here*)
My (now) husband ran that race with me...and I'm truly surprised we made it through that Sunday in October as an intact couple. I will always remember the following exchange that occurred between us at mile 23, on John Herrick Drive in front of the OSU Hospital when I felt like my legs were going to cramp to the point of paralysis and had (once again) stopped to walk.
Patrick: (trying to be encouraging) You can do this...almost there!
Me: (not encouraged and not happy) DO NOT SAY ONE MORE WORD TO ME FOR THE REST OF THIS FREAKING RACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOT. ONE. WORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In the end, we finished all 26.2 miles. I even have picture evidence to prove it...with me holding two bagels and looking semi-pleased. The next day however, I was most definitely not smiling as I attempted a long walk to archery class without being able to bend my legs. I still remember the blue and yellow wind pants I was wearing and the horrible swishing noise they made as I penguin-waddled up one of the busiest routes on campus. When I finally got to class, I was too sore to hold the bow...so the entire effort of walking there had been for naught. Super.
But ever since that race, 16 miles has been my baseline number. I finished the marathon once only running 16 miles, so theoretically I could do it again, right? I mean, sure I was 20 then and this time around I will be 29, but I could still do it if I had to. And so, 16 miles will continue to be my baseline. A baseline of I'd-better-run-farther-than-that-so-I-don't-collapse-and-die-and/or-ruin-my-marriage-during-or-after-the-race. And that, my friends, is a very important baseline to have...
Regardless of his comment, completing 16 miles to me is sort of like a baseline. You see, the very first marathon that I ran, 16 miles was the farthest training run that I completed leading up to the race. Heck, 16 miles was the farthest that I had ever run...and then I attempted to run a marathon. If that screams "MISTAKE!!!" to you, then you can take solace in the fact that you are smarter than my 20 year old self was back then. Because I'm pretty sure I felt adequately trained for that race...I mean, how hard can it really be to run 10 miles farther than you've ever run?? (*insert completely deserved dumb blonde joke here*)
My (now) husband ran that race with me...and I'm truly surprised we made it through that Sunday in October as an intact couple. I will always remember the following exchange that occurred between us at mile 23, on John Herrick Drive in front of the OSU Hospital when I felt like my legs were going to cramp to the point of paralysis and had (once again) stopped to walk.
Patrick: (trying to be encouraging) You can do this...almost there!
Me: (not encouraged and not happy) DO NOT SAY ONE MORE WORD TO ME FOR THE REST OF THIS FREAKING RACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOT. ONE. WORD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But ever since that race, 16 miles has been my baseline number. I finished the marathon once only running 16 miles, so theoretically I could do it again, right? I mean, sure I was 20 then and this time around I will be 29, but I could still do it if I had to. And so, 16 miles will continue to be my baseline. A baseline of I'd-better-run-farther-than-that-so-I-don't-collapse-and-die-and/or-ruin-my-marriage-during-or-after-the-race. And that, my friends, is a very important baseline to have...
Monday, August 20, 2012
Pot Committed
With the clock ticking down until the last day of the 'reduced' early bird registration price, I finally took a deep breath and entered my credit card number into the online form. $112 later, I was registered. I know what you're thinking, "$112 to run? On public roads?" So let's take a look at where that $112 goes, shall we?
- Right off the top, the site tells me that $7 is going toward a processing fee. Really? Because I'm pretty sure that the website does all of that automatically. If there really is a person processing the application, and they are getting $7 to type each of the 18,000 registrants' names into an Excel spreadsheet, I am quitting dentistry and applying for that job. Total remaining fee: $105
- The marathon expo and packet pick-up is held the Friday and Saturday before the marathon. I have no idea how much it costs to rent a space in the Convention Center, but they typically have about 130 vendors that have to rent their space. According to the marathon website, the booth rentals range in price from $600 to $3000. I'm calling that breaking even. Total remaining fee: $105 (plus the $5 it costs for me to park downtown so I can pick up my packet)
- Race day security, which includes off-duty police officers and lots of volunteers. Let's say they hire 200 off duty police officers for 8 hours at a rate of $35 an hour each. That's $56,000 for security, divided by 18,000 race participants. That makes my share...about $3.11. Total remaining fee: $101.89
- One of the race sponsors is Gatorade, so the aid stations should be pretty much free for the race. Total remaining fee: $101.89
- The timing chip is built into the bib, which is incredibly handy. I couldn't easily find a price for these online, but when buying something like that in bulk I can't imagine it is that expensive. We'll say that printing the bib, adding the chip, and the price of 4 safety pins (that are generously included in the race packet) comes to $1.50. Total remaining fee: $100.39
- I'm going to over-estimate for how much the shirts cost because A) they are nice shirts and B) it will make me feel better about the cost of the race. Let's say, $7 per shirt. Total remaining fee: $93.39
- The race hands out $40,000 worth of prize money for the winners of each division. I don't mind paying for this as someone can be an incredible athlete, work hard and win the marathon...and their prize is $5000. That's approximately how much LeBron James makes for tying his shoes. Elite runners are underpaid = statement of fact. My share for the prize money is $2.23. Total remaining fee: $91.16
- Let's say the lovely aluminum blanket and medal they hand out at the finish will total $5. Mostly for the medal, as the aluminum blankets cannot be more than a few cents apiece or they wouldn't hand them out like candy at a parade. Total remaining fee: $86.16
- The food I will consume at the end is as followed: 1 bottle of water, 1 banana, 1/2 an orange and two Krispy Kreme doughnuts. Total for food: $3.75. Total remaining fee: $82.41
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
In the (comfort) Zone
The weather the last few days has been perfect for running! And when I say that, I mean it. You see, my ability to completely justify not hitting the pavement has made it so my comfort zone for running is approximately the size of the head of a pin. That's just a fancy way to say, "I routinely use the weather as an excuse not to run."
It's over 80°? Under 40°? Raining? Snowing? Too sunny? Too windy? Saturn's not aligned with Jupiter? Then I'm probably not running. I mean, you don't expect me to be uncomfortable, do you?
This 'reaching' for excuses doesn't stop at the weather. Did I eat in the past two hours? Have I not eaten in the past two hours? (that's some of my typical logic for you right there...) Did I forget to drink enough water? Did I drink any milk today? Do I have my contacts in? Are my shoes dry? Is my headband clean? Do I know where my watch is? Do I really want to change my clothes? Did I already shower today? Is the washer / dryer / dishwasher on? Did someone just post something new on Facebook? Then I'm probably not running.
And having a child has only made this easier to do. Does he need to eat? Maybe a diaper change? Will he need a nap soon? Will my husband be home in time to watch him? Am I feeling guilty because I should be reading to / making homemade food for / teaching him math him instead? Then I'm probably not running.
But these past few days have been perfect. Temperatures in the 70s and overcast skies. Very fall-like weather, and I have always associated fall with running, so nothing can stand in the way of me getting out there for a nice long jog!! Nothing, except that I'm not really sure where my watch is...
It's over 80°? Under 40°? Raining? Snowing? Too sunny? Too windy? Saturn's not aligned with Jupiter? Then I'm probably not running. I mean, you don't expect me to be uncomfortable, do you?
This 'reaching' for excuses doesn't stop at the weather. Did I eat in the past two hours? Have I not eaten in the past two hours? (that's some of my typical logic for you right there...) Did I forget to drink enough water? Did I drink any milk today? Do I have my contacts in? Are my shoes dry? Is my headband clean? Do I know where my watch is? Do I really want to change my clothes? Did I already shower today? Is the washer / dryer / dishwasher on? Did someone just post something new on Facebook? Then I'm probably not running.
And having a child has only made this easier to do. Does he need to eat? Maybe a diaper change? Will he need a nap soon? Will my husband be home in time to watch him? Am I feeling guilty because I should be reading to / making homemade food for / teaching him math him instead? Then I'm probably not running.
But these past few days have been perfect. Temperatures in the 70s and overcast skies. Very fall-like weather, and I have always associated fall with running, so nothing can stand in the way of me getting out there for a nice long jog!! Nothing, except that I'm not really sure where my watch is...
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Glory Days
Maybe it's the many, many hours I have spent during the past week watching the track events at the Olympics, (or maybe it's the sleep deprivation that comes from staying up late to watch 3 hours of Bob Costas & 'human interest stories' before the 9 second race is finally replayed on tape delay at 11:28 pm) but I have been waxing nostalgic about my days running cross country and track in high school. So I dug through my high school scrapbook...and found this lovely gem:
Now I know you have several questions regarding this picture, so I will try to answer them in order of importance.
1. Yes, I was really that skinny at one point. But trust me, as much as Victoria's Secret would like you to believe otherwise, 6 ft, 117 lbs really isn't that attractive. If you don't believe me, compare my arm to the baton in that picture and get back to me.
2. Yes, that is one killer farmer's tan I have going on. That's what happens when you train in t-shirts and (Umbro) shorts, and then put on a ridiculous uniform.
3. Yes, those shorts are really that short. See above statement about ridiculous uniform.
4. Yes, I know that if I had relaxed my face I could have finished a tenth of a second faster. And more importantly, I would have avoided looking like Piglet's angry sister in the local newspaper.
Apparently my trip down memory lane only served to once again remind me that high school wasn't all that great. Not that it was bad, but I wasn't running Olympic level times and being sponsored by Nike either. So maybe there is a world of difference between high school track and the elite, professional runners that are competing in London. But somehow the ridiculous uniforms seem to stay the same...
Now I know you have several questions regarding this picture, so I will try to answer them in order of importance.
1. Yes, I was really that skinny at one point. But trust me, as much as Victoria's Secret would like you to believe otherwise, 6 ft, 117 lbs really isn't that attractive. If you don't believe me, compare my arm to the baton in that picture and get back to me.
2. Yes, that is one killer farmer's tan I have going on. That's what happens when you train in t-shirts and (Umbro) shorts, and then put on a ridiculous uniform.
3. Yes, those shorts are really that short. See above statement about ridiculous uniform.
4. Yes, I know that if I had relaxed my face I could have finished a tenth of a second faster. And more importantly, I would have avoided looking like Piglet's angry sister in the local newspaper.
Apparently my trip down memory lane only served to once again remind me that high school wasn't all that great. Not that it was bad, but I wasn't running Olympic level times and being sponsored by Nike either. So maybe there is a world of difference between high school track and the elite, professional runners that are competing in London. But somehow the ridiculous uniforms seem to stay the same...
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Lisa: Friend, Runner, Hero.
I occasionally run with my good friend Lisa. Lisa and I have been friends since pre-school and have weathered a lot of life together (along with our third amiga Katire, who I will give a shout out to despite the fact that she will not run with me and threatened to un-bookmark this blog if I didn't "keep it interesting.") :)
Lisa has been kicking butts and taking names since 1984. She is extremely high achieving and excels at everything she tries, including all athletic pursuits. She teaches spinning, is a yoga instructor, and runs exceptionally well for someone who refuses to race because she doesn't wantthe rest of us to feel bad to put a lot of pressure on herself.
I think the differences between Lisa and me can best be demonstrated in our workout clothing. She is always very put together in official (re: matching) running attire. She has sweat wicking fabric for the summer and cold weather gear for the winter. She has three pairs of running shoes that she rotates and logs the mileage on, all of which have quick tie locks on the laces. She wears visors and sunglasses when it's sunny. She wears matching gloves and a hat when it's cold. She looks gooooooooooooood.
My clothing choices consist of my collection of cotton t-shirts from high school that I made my parents buy me at every race I ran. And Umbro shorts. And sweatpants that are really short on my 6 ft frame. And sweatshirts that all have OSU-something on them. And the most recent pair of Asics Gel-Kayanos that I have. And a very expensive Gore-Tex jacket that my dad made me buy before a particularly snowy race.
So today, as we were running through a very nice golf course community in a very nice part of town, I'm sure people were wondering if this lovely athletic looking goddess was doing some sort of community service project by running with a girl wearing a orange print bandana (to keep the flopping hair at bay), a bright pink "I run like a girl" cotton t-shirt, and aqua green shorts. Complete the look by adding me pushing my son in a jogger and I'm sure the people driving by in their Mercedes were discreetly locking their doors.
The best part about Lisa is that even though she's got herself put together, I know she doesn't care that I don't. But I care...because secretly, I want to be like Lisa when I grow up. I want to look gooooooood and be taken seriously just like Lisa is. I want my running clothes to match and to actually know how many miles are on my shoes. I want to wear pants that don't look like high waters and socks that haven't been chewed up by one of my dogs. I want to kick some butts and take some names. So maybe next time I will put on my expensive Gore-Tex jacket and actually look like I fit in running through that nice community. I just hope it's not August and 90 degrees when I do it...
Lisa has been kicking butts and taking names since 1984. She is extremely high achieving and excels at everything she tries, including all athletic pursuits. She teaches spinning, is a yoga instructor, and runs exceptionally well for someone who refuses to race because she doesn't want
I think the differences between Lisa and me can best be demonstrated in our workout clothing. She is always very put together in official (re: matching) running attire. She has sweat wicking fabric for the summer and cold weather gear for the winter. She has three pairs of running shoes that she rotates and logs the mileage on, all of which have quick tie locks on the laces. She wears visors and sunglasses when it's sunny. She wears matching gloves and a hat when it's cold. She looks gooooooooooooood.
My clothing choices consist of my collection of cotton t-shirts from high school that I made my parents buy me at every race I ran. And Umbro shorts. And sweatpants that are really short on my 6 ft frame. And sweatshirts that all have OSU-something on them. And the most recent pair of Asics Gel-Kayanos that I have. And a very expensive Gore-Tex jacket that my dad made me buy before a particularly snowy race.
So today, as we were running through a very nice golf course community in a very nice part of town, I'm sure people were wondering if this lovely athletic looking goddess was doing some sort of community service project by running with a girl wearing a orange print bandana (to keep the flopping hair at bay), a bright pink "I run like a girl" cotton t-shirt, and aqua green shorts. Complete the look by adding me pushing my son in a jogger and I'm sure the people driving by in their Mercedes were discreetly locking their doors.
The best part about Lisa is that even though she's got herself put together, I know she doesn't care that I don't. But I care...because secretly, I want to be like Lisa when I grow up. I want to look gooooooood and be taken seriously just like Lisa is. I want my running clothes to match and to actually know how many miles are on my shoes. I want to wear pants that don't look like high waters and socks that haven't been chewed up by one of my dogs. I want to kick some butts and take some names. So maybe next time I will put on my expensive Gore-Tex jacket and actually look like I fit in running through that nice community. I just hope it's not August and 90 degrees when I do it...
Monday, August 6, 2012
My Failure to Plan...Is My Own Problem.
Yesterday's run epitomizes one of the traits about myself that I dislike the most: I am a perfectionist that is a complete and utter failure in the planning ahead and thinking things through department. Examples:
Decision 1 - I got an awesome haircut from my awesome stylist. However, it is very, very short and I cannot get it back into a ponytail. Or even pigtails. This was probably not the smartest decision to cut my hair this short right as I am attempting to train for the marathon. I did my best and used a headband, but it flopped around for 14 straight miles.
Decision 2 - My husband and I drove back from a trip to Illinois yesterday, and lunch was Taco Bell. Enough said.
So training is moving along, and with any luck I will get myself to the starting line before 7:30 am on October 21st. But if I were a betting woman, I would say it's more likely I'll be there around 7:45...
- We are late for everything, and as much as I really don't like it (I swear I don't think we are being 'fashionable') I never plan ahead until 5 minutes before we need to leave. And then we walk in late (like, walking-down-the-aisle-right-in-front-of-the-bride late) and I am humiliated.
- With any project that I have ever done, I put absolutely no thought into it...but then that errant brushstroke, that row with one too many stitches, or the color that isn't quite right drives me bananas every time I look at it!!!
- I sign up to run a marathon, and then I don't train for it :)
Decision 1 - I got an awesome haircut from my awesome stylist. However, it is very, very short and I cannot get it back into a ponytail. Or even pigtails. This was probably not the smartest decision to cut my hair this short right as I am attempting to train for the marathon. I did my best and used a headband, but it flopped around for 14 straight miles.
Decision 2 - My husband and I drove back from a trip to Illinois yesterday, and lunch was Taco Bell. Enough said.
So training is moving along, and with any luck I will get myself to the starting line before 7:30 am on October 21st. But if I were a betting woman, I would say it's more likely I'll be there around 7:45...
Friday, August 3, 2012
Welcome to my goal. Thank you for signing up.
I never pictured myself starting a blog...mostly because I think of them more as a way to update people on your life, and I never seem to have any updates worth sharing. But over the past few months, an idea to start a blog as a way to keep me accountable to a goal in my life started to form...and goodness knows I need any help I can get! So if you are reading this, you are (inadvertently, I'm sure) part of my goal. Lucky you...
In January of 2012, my husband and I welcomed our (awesome) son and my world drastically changed. One of the things that I have been fighting to hold onto in this new world of mommy-hood is the idea that despite my new role, I can still be the same girl who liked to do things like travel to Europe and long distance run. And since traveling to Europe with an infant doesn't even sound like fun to me...I guess that leaves the running. :)
Last year was the first time that I hadn't run either the Columbus full or half marathon in 8 years. Sure, I was pregnant...but when the pictures hit Facebook of one of my friends at the finish of the half, looking awesome AND more pregnant than me, I felt nothing but guilt that I hadn't even tried! I pledged to myself that day that I would run the full marathon in 2012.
So here it is, August of 2012 and reality is kicking in. Busy weeks have bled into busier weekends, and I have started to doubt. Can I be super-wife, super-mom, super-daughter, super-sister, super-dentist, super-friend, AND super-runner? Well, I'm going to try...and if I think even one person is reading this blog, it makes me THAT much more likely to hit the road and finish those training runs (that's where you come in.) I will periodically update with how my training is going...and maybe some humorous stories along the way. So here I go...wish me luck!
In January of 2012, my husband and I welcomed our (awesome) son and my world drastically changed. One of the things that I have been fighting to hold onto in this new world of mommy-hood is the idea that despite my new role, I can still be the same girl who liked to do things like travel to Europe and long distance run. And since traveling to Europe with an infant doesn't even sound like fun to me...I guess that leaves the running. :)
Last year was the first time that I hadn't run either the Columbus full or half marathon in 8 years. Sure, I was pregnant...but when the pictures hit Facebook of one of my friends at the finish of the half, looking awesome AND more pregnant than me, I felt nothing but guilt that I hadn't even tried! I pledged to myself that day that I would run the full marathon in 2012.
So here it is, August of 2012 and reality is kicking in. Busy weeks have bled into busier weekends, and I have started to doubt. Can I be super-wife, super-mom, super-daughter, super-sister, super-dentist, super-friend, AND super-runner? Well, I'm going to try...and if I think even one person is reading this blog, it makes me THAT much more likely to hit the road and finish those training runs (that's where you come in.) I will periodically update with how my training is going...and maybe some humorous stories along the way. So here I go...wish me luck!
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