Turkey Butt

There are many advantages to having kids.

• Tax cuts
• Little people you can order around to do things you don’t want to do.
• Plates of nuggets and fries you can help yourself to at any time
• Someone to always blame a fart on
• An excuse to get out of doing something you don’t want to do. As in, “Sorry Bertha. I can’t go to that Irish tap dancing class because my child is projective vomiting.”
• A designated driver (anytime from the age of 8 on up)
• A rationalization for buying Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch, but who really needs a reason?
• A reason to get up in the morning when you are having a hard time finding one.

But, perhaps the greatest advantage is that your kids tell it like it is. They call you out on your shit like no one else does. They know your buttons and they freaking push them all day long. Not even your best friend in the world would dare to point out the things your kids do.

• Mom, why are you getting so angry that vein is popping out of your neck?
• Wow, mom, that eye shadow is too much. It looks kind of creepy.
• Mom, that fart smells like something died in your colon. Have you been to the doctor?
• Why are you in such a bad mood and blaming stuff on me? I’m just a kid. Maybe you need to go lay down.

And the occasional heart breaker:

• I know you tried your hardest in that race. Good job, mom. I’m proud of you. (Remember this amazing thing? If you haven’t read what Emma wrote, go do it.)

You know this is leading up to something, right? That I have one of my stories to tell that ties into all of the above? I’m a sucker for a good, pointless story.

Setting: Yesterday morning, 7:30 a.m. My kitchen

The kids were eating breakfast at the counter before school. I was in my go-to outfit that is a combination of pajamas and “active wear.” It is something I can sleep in, but also something I could wear to the grocery store if need be. This cuts down on having to change clothes very often. Yesterday's outfit was a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

I was standing at the stove cooking my oatmeal (yeah, I make the real thing that takes about 15 minutes). I was stirring away, my back to the kids.

Sam: “Hey mom.”
Me: “Yeah?”
Sam: “Doesn’t it bother you the way you have such a wedgie right now? Like, don’t you even feel that?”
Me: “Okay, maybe you shouldn’t be looking at your mother’s butt. Ever think of that?”
Sam: “It wasn’t like I was trying. I was just panning around the room, and-boom!-saw your wedgie.”

And, he was right. My sweats had totally creeped up. Not a pretty sight. But I feel blessed I had some wise 13 year old to point this out to me before I went to the library. Because NO ONE, not even librarians, like to see a turkey butt (def: the condition of having one's clothing stuck between the buttocks.When ones ass gobbles up their pants.”). Gobble, gobble.

At least I did not have this going on (God bless People of Walmart):

At least she is buying TP for those cheeks.

What’s the best thing about having kids?

How do your kids (or, someone else’s) call you out on stuff or push your buttons?

SUAR

Run Rating Scale

Thanks for all the congrats on my paragraph in Runner’s World. I forgot to mention that they asked me to be on the cover, but I told them I’d rather be on page 126, hidden two pages before the end of the magazine. Plus, I felt bad for Kara and how little press she gets.

I ran 13 miles yesterday. Longest run yet post injury. The hip felt great, but again I was plagued by the turd tragedies. At one point I was doubled over on the path while my running companions just watched, offering gifts of toilet paper and pats on the back and asking if perhaps they should call the EMTs. They probably had poop envy ( when a person is constipated and suddenly becomes aware of the surrounding people's ability to go to the toilet whilst they suffer an uncomfortable and painful fate – urban dictionary).

There was one girl I had never run with before. I am sure I made a great impression. Post- run, she probably went home and told her husband, “The strangest thing happened today. I ran with this girl who kept having to hide in the bushes. Then at one point she rolled up into a ball and laid on the path. I think she is part bear cub or something.”

Once again I only have myself to blame. Really, should have turned down that piece of cheesecake last night. And having the period doesn’t help (sorry to my five male readers), although I cannot help that part. If I didn’t have my period I would be either: 1) pregnant 2) too skinny 3) too young 4) or older than I am now. I don’t like any of these options, so I’ll take the period.  Does your stomach get upset when you’re on the rag or is it just me? Chris K., does it?

Overall, it ended up being a three-crap run. I rate my runs not be stars or smiley faces, but by piles. 

 

 

If the Boston rating is this, I am in serious trouble:

 

 

You may be sick of hearing about my great comeback story from hip stress fracture to marathon runner. All in six months. I am even sick of hearing myself think, talk and write about it. But, it is happening and I cannot believe Pixar or someone hasn’t contacted me to make a movie. I could be played by Teddy from Grey’s Anatomy. Clearly, it is just a matter of time before someone buys my story because I am the only person to have ever come back from an injury to run a marathon. No, I don’t know who Matt Long is.

But, let’s face it, my comeback is almost over and will hopefully culminate in two weeks when I run the Boston Marathon. So, you only have two more weeks of my recovery and rehab. Stick with me to the finish because you know you want to know if someone can run a marathon with very little running as part of their training. It is a good experiment and will lend itself to the creation of many new training plans:

Minimal Miles to Marathon Plan!

Shut Up and Walk, Water Run and Bike Your Way to 26.2!

Run Not at All, Run Boston!

SUAR

8 Minutes to Boston

I like to call this the 8 to 230 Training Plan.

8 minutes = what I ran today

230 minutes = what I might run in Boston if I have a really, really freaking amazing day.

It could be more like 500. I am fine with that. I have to be.

Today is a big, big day. After exactly 3 months of being injured, I was granted the honor of going for a run. For 8 minutes. That was my ration.

Someone asked me recently why I spent three hours online the day of the Boston Marathon registration to make sure I got in. Why did I sit at my keyboard crying tears of frustration each time my application wouldn't go through?

I had to think about that for a minute. Really think. I had just learned of my stress fracture, and was feeling quite uncertain about my running future. What raced through my head was: I worked too hard to qualify and if I don’t get in today, I might not ever qualify again. This was it.

What else has to do with 8 minutes?

• Light takes 8 minutes to reach the earth from the sun
• It took Ada 8 (minus 2) minutes to take a dump on the Biggest Loser during her marathon
• If you keep an 8 minute mile average pace, you will run a 3:30 marathon
• Some men take 8 minutes. Doing what? You decide.

Today, mother nature was f*cking with me. I woke to snow and –2 degrees. Sure, it’s pretty around here, but it’s that colder than a witch's tit kind of cold.

View from my back porch this a.m. I live in a shit hole:

Here’s the lake where I love to run. I really wanted to be out here today, but my feet can’t tolerate the cold. Wah, wah, I know. But, I’ve had frostbite and I have Raynaud’s Syndrome, so lay off (do not Google image it, it’s gross. did you just Google it? don’t you listen?):

I begrudgingly got on the treadmill. The doctor said I could do my 8 minutes all at once, or spread them out. Wow, all 8 minutes at once would have made for a *very* short little midget workout, so I spread it out like this:

How did it go, you ask? I hoped it would be all euphoria, ecstasy and angels singing. But, in truth, I could have cried. It hurt. I’m stiff. My body feels off and wrong. Wonky. Is that even a word? That’s how I feel. 2.6 miles total. Please tell me it will get better.

Wonky: weird, whacked out, messed up, not working for no definable reason. synonym = pecker {source: Urban Dictionary}.

Pecker? Really? As in, “My body just feels pecker today?”

The good news is, I don’t think I’ve lost much fitness in the past three months. I have been dedicated to water running (because that Shut Up and Run Girl told me to) at least five times per week. I've been doing yoga and some swimming. Recently, I got on the bike trainer.

Last week I did this:

After my 8 minutes I went to the Starbucks’ drive-thru and my mood slightly improved when I saw this little snow man. Who knew the Starbuck’s baristas were so creative? Looks like he just pissed or has the runs.

Do you think it really will get better?

Trying to stay positive,

SUAR

Which Would You Rather Do?

Just to make the point that the entire world does not interpret the phrase "running a marathon" the same way...the urban dictionary defines it as such:

Running a marathon:

When you become extremely intoxicated off of Captain Morgan and pass out in someones trailer. Then you are awoken by friends 3 hours later and go snowboarding. This is known as "Running a Marathon."

So if you've never run a marathon, but want to be able to say you have in your social circles, go to the liquor store on Friday, find a trailer park, tell your friends where to find you 180 minutes later and head for the hills for some mountain surfing (also an UD term).

Personally, I'd rather run the 26.2 painful miles than indulge in this crap, but that's just me.