Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts

Sunday, March 14, 2010

My New Party Hat

Running tip: If you're having trouble getting motivated to run, sign up for a race and tell everyone. You'll be much less likely to drop your training plan if you've spent the money and blabbed that you're doing it. Then, if you don't show up, you're poor and a loser.

I’ve got some random thoughts for today. I didn’t want to devote an entire post to any one of these things, so let’s just do some bulleting:

  • Before I get all serious, I'll tell you this: son Sam came home from baseball yesterday and promptly put his crotch cup on Lucky’s head. Poor dog. It does make a great party hat! I might wear it to my next social gathering. PTA here I come.


  • Running is such a mental game. If you go out to run 18 miles and you are committed to the distance, that’s what you will do. If you go out to run 9 miles the next week you feel like that is only as far as you can go. I think that’s why when people run a half marathon they will sometimes say after the fact: "I could not have gone another 13.1." The point is, it’s about what you set your mind to before you started running. You run differently and think differently for different distances. This is not rocket science and yes, I am stating the obvious, but I thought about this today on my run (here I am getting ready to go. Ignore the mess that is my house ->).

  • People who yell at their kids and treat them like shit in public are evil. We all scream at our kids at some point and have moments that wouldn't win us a parent of the year award. But, I’m talking about those parents who are constantly all over their children using a tone that shouldn’t even be used on a disobedient dog. “Put that down! Come over here! Shut your mouth!” Poor kids can’t catch a break. I was in Walgreen’s today and some mom with three little girls was doing this. She ended her tirade by commanding them to “Get in the damn car.” As far as I could tell, the kids were being kids. They weren’t poorly behaved. They were little and acting like little kids act. My thought on this is that if people treat their kids like this in public for all the world to see, my God, what are they doing to these kids in their privacy of their own home? Granted, I don’t know what kind of shit this woman has going on in her life, but it was obvious she was taking it out on those girls. In those moments of treating her kids with absolutely no respect, she is molding their little minds and souls, and not for the better. Made me sick.

  • Chelsea Handler is entertaining. Chelsea Handler is funny. Chelsea Handler is also kind of a drunkard and seems pretty angry. The show last night was a decent one if you like the "f" word and making fun of minorities. I loved her poop references and appreciated all of her references to masturbating on the playground when she was eight. But, truthfully, she seemed tired. Almost like she didn’t want to be there. She did not wear this last night ->, nor did she looked this good. She dropped about 39 f-bombs in one minute, including constantly asking, “Can I get a f*cking drink???” I will say, the guy who opened for her, Josh Wolfe was hilarious (go see him if he comes to your town):




  • I find it curious and fascinating that some of the most generous people are those that have the least to give. Take for example last night. Some dude who had driven down from Gillette, WY sat by me at the Chelsea Handler show. He was probably in his 20s and a little rough around the edges. I think he worked at a coal mine in WY. At one point he got up to get a drink (you had to walk out of the large theater to do this). He asked if we wanted anything (something most people wouldn’t bother do ask a stranger). I gave him $6.50 for a glass of wine (total freaking rip off). He was gone a LONG time because the drink lines were crazy. When he finally got back he had brought me two glasses of wine and a beer for Ken. Just because it took him so long. Later, he got up again for drinks. Didn’t ask if we wanted anything, but came back with another glass of wine for me and another beer for Ken. In total, he spent $26 on us – just because. I have sat beside hundreds of thousands of people in my life at shows, movies, on airplanes, etc. No one has shown this generosity, least of all some of those wealthy types with the sticks up their asses. I take that back. Last year in Vegas some dude kept giving me $100 chips at the blackjack table if I would stay and gamble with him, but he probably thought I was a prostitute. I actually won a lot of money and he wouldn’t take any of it.

  • This made me think a lot about the spirit of giving and generosity. We hold on so tight to what we have sometimes because we are afraid. Afraid there won’t be enough for us. What would happen if we were less fearful and more big hearted?

Woah – me getting all serious on you guys today. Well, life can’t be one big hilarious fart all the time.

How was your weekend and what did you notice?

Drinking: H2O

Sunday, March 7, 2010

18 Miles of Adventure (video)

Running tip: If you are brave and like torture, consider taking an ice bath after your next long run. It is supposed to help with muscle recovery. According to Dr. David Terry, ultra runner, "Ice baths don't only suppress inflammation, but help to flush harmful metabolic debris out of your muscles."

Today’s long run was 18 miles. This was the point in my last marathon training cycle when I got injured. I’m pretty sure the injury developed on that 18 mile run on a hot day last August. So, today, I was conscious of this, especially since many of the miles travelled were on the same route as “injury route.” Ken was due for 9 miles today, so we parked his car at the half way point and drove back to the start. The morning was foggy, gray and 33 degrees at the start. The mountains were barely visible. Here were the highlights:

Mile 2: Stopped to stretch –major highlight.

Mile 2-5: Pretty major rolling hills. Lots of climbing.

Mile 6: Ken proposed to me. Not really. He did that 15 years ago. But I don’t have any other highlights.

Mile 8: I got pregnant.

Mile 9: Halfway. Mentally difficult to watch Ken unstrap his fuel belt, let out a huge sigh of relief that his run was over, and settle into the comfy and warm seat of his truck. We had parked at a grange in a rural part of Boulder County. Do you know what a grange is? I just looked it up – it’s an association of farmers. So, I guess the grange is where these farmers hang out. I actually found a picture of the Boulder County Grange:

It looked nothing like this today. There was no celestial sunlight and no travelling minstrels strumming guitars in the parking lot. It was just me, Ken, the truck and some mud. I desperately had to pee. The grange was closed. Ken suggested I open both doors of his truck, making a little shelter, and try to pee in there. I did that, but problem was when I squatted down, my white ass hung below the truck doors. This is not Ken’s truck, but it gives you an idea about what I was doing with the doors.


Not three seconds after my pee commenced and I let out an audible, “aahhhhh,” someone from somewhere yelled, “WHY ARE YOU GOING PEE?” I stopped mid stream and hopped up, looking around for the source of the yell. No clue. So, I bid Ken goodbye, knowing I would find a more concealed pee spot on the way back.

Mile 11: There was nowhere to pee, and worse yet I was feeling #2. I climbed into sort of a ditch off of the dirt road and hid myself in a tree. I pulled down my capris and a dry stick poked me in a tender spot. I let it all out, felt much better and pulled up my tights. It wasn’t until my run was over that I found a 4" long stick in my tights. I am so hard core I can run with twigs nestled in my clothing.

Mile 12: Found out that PB&J and orange Accelerade go really well together.

Mile 13: Damn dog comes at me barking and snarling. Dick. I tried to remember what to do to fend off dogs. I think about going hiking and bears. The sign always says to make yourself look really big (or is that mountain lions?). So, I put my arms over my head like a scary monster and screamed, “Get back!” The dog fell on the ground laughing, got up and shook his head and meandered off. Note to self: buy pepper spray. Ask bloggers what to do if a dog attacks you.

Mile 15: Still feeling really good. Listening to Tom Petty, Black Eyed Peas and Bruce.

Mile 17: Ready to be done. Hamstrings are really tight. Feet hurt.

Mile 18: Sweet Jesus, I’ve made it. 18 miles, 2 hours 46 minutes, 9:14 avg pace.

I stopped on the way home to buy a 10 lb bag of ice for an ice bath. I have never taken an ice bath before because I am a wimp, and hate to be cold. I’d rather have a sucky recovery than be cold. But today, I was kind of feeling it. And I’d like to share the lovely experience with you:




I love this shot because it looks like I am giving birth:




What were your adventures on your long run this weekend?

Drinking: Vics Coffee