In seventh grade social studies with Mr. Chittock, I distinctly remember learning about the Mayan calendar and how the world was going to end in 2012. The reason I remember this so well is that my predominant thought at the time was, "I'll be almost 30, I'll probably be close to dead anyway." After all, what could I possibly be doing at (almost) 30 that could be more important than writing in the super-top-secret-notebook that my BFF and I passed back and forth on an hourly basis???
The answer? A lot, apparently. I am doing a lot. But am I doing enough to love those around me? Or as I get progressively busier with my life, am I turning more and more egocentric? So, just like my quest to run the marathon, I am on a quest for 2013...otherwise known as the year I turn 30. I shall call it, KLPE's 30 for 30. And I'm pretty sure that if an ESPN copyright lawyer ever reads this blog, I am officially in trouble.
My 30 for 30 is a list of 30 things that I will do (or attempt to do) over the next year that fall into the modern day category of "Paying it Forward." Now many people have been credited with this thought, from Emerson to Woody Hayes...but here is the true origin of it:
If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, expecting to be repaid in full. But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. -Luke 6:32-38. Sorry Buckeye fans, but not even Woody himself can stand up to the Man that spoke those words!
I contemplated publishing my list on this blog...but several of the items I want to do anonymously and some I don't want to admit to the general reading public (probably because I should have been doing them all along...but hey, cut a girl some slack, I'm trying here!!) So in lieu of items that are ON my list, here are some items that will NOT be on my list:
1. Be nicer to Claire. Trust me, paying for her self-inflicted surgeries (that's right - surgeries plural) seems like all the niceness I can muster towards a horrible, horrible cat.
2. Adopt a homeless animal. See #1 and how it's working out for me.
3. Root for Michigan. I died a little just typing that.
4. Donate to the dental school. Sorry, but the wounds are too fresh.
5. Buy Dave Laird a new trash can. Hopefully not doing this will give me a pass on not adopting that homeless animal.
6. Shovel a neighbor's driveway. Have you seen the length of my neighbor's driveway? Besides, he has a ATV with a plow attachment. Maybe he should shovel MY driveway.
But seriously, in 2013 I will try to do better. I will try to pass along God's love and truly embrace my upcoming 30th birthday. And I think if I can do that, it might just end up being my best birthday yet...
Friday, January 4, 2013
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Sista Wives
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...
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...
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. |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)