What's in Your Cart?

Okay, Internet, fess up - who else does this?

When I'm at the grocery store, I love, love, love to look in other people's grocery carts. Based on what a person is buying, I then try to figure stuff out about their lives. And really, it's easy.

Gallon of milk, juice boxes, individually wrapped bags of chips, lunch meat, white bread, giant pack of hamburger, fun fruits, and two different kinds of soda? Mom with kids.

Lean Cuisines, yogurt, diet Coke, Ben & Jerry's, and wine? Single woman.

Beer, chips, bologna, and bread? Single guy.

Cat food, wine, cookie dough? Someone about to have the world's most depressing Saturday night.

Diapers, wipes, Cheerios, and a giant container of coffee? Someone with a baby.

Bag of salad, spaghetti sauce, pasta sauce, garlic bread, and cereal? Someone who can't cook.

Then, I think about what my own groceries say about me. Like, there are times when my cart contains eggs, butter, flour, sugar, and powdered sugar, and it could not be more obvious that I am making cookies.

Often in my cart, you'll find a gallon of milk, fresh fruit and vegetables, including a huge bunch of bananas, powdered Gatorade, pasta, fruit snacks, string cheese, Kraft singles, almonds, cookies, and trail mix. That pretty well sums up my family.

What's in your cart?

Eight is Enough

I ran eight miles on Saturday.

It was fine. The weather was chilly, but not unreasonable, and I was dressed just right. I ran through some new neighborhoods and had good stuff on the iPod. My pace averaged 10:10 per mile, which is decent - in fact, on the speedier side for a long run for me.

The whole thing was just kind of meh.

I wasn't exhausted, nor did I have that "I just rocked that thing out, baby!" feeling. The more I thought about it, the more I figured it was the distance. Eight miles, I thought as I ran along, is just nothing to really write home about. It's not a challenging speed workout, and it's not an impressive distance. It's just kind of a middle of the road placeholder.

Then I thought about it some more.

You know how many other people I saw out running? None. Zero. Not a one. While the rest of the world sat inside and watched TV, I was out running and breathing in the fresh air. And before I started training for my first marathon last year, you know what the farthest distance I'd run was? Seven miles. And now, I can knock out eight without even thinking about it.

Could an eight mile run be more exciting than just a middle of the road placeholder?




All signs point to yes.

Thank You, Easter Bunny!

Jack is old enough that he is firmly entrenched in kid-dom and can actually understand holidays. Last Easter, that wasn't really the case. He saw the Easter Bunny, and he found the eggs that we hid - and by hid, I mean placed in plain sight in the living room. But I don't think he connected one with the other, nor did he consider either thing as part of a larger event.

But this time, he gets it.

He was excited to meet the Easter Bunny and spent a lot of time talking to him about plastic eggs with jelly beans in them. It was important to Jack that the eggs contain candy because "last year, I got stickers instead." Well, yeah - that's because last year I figured I could get away with not giving you a whole heap of sugar, so I enjoyed it while I could. Who would have guessed that, a year later, you'd remember that? Of course, I didn't say that, but that instead, the Easter Bunny must know that Jack is now a big boy, and therefore ready for candy and not just stickers. And that probably Santa talked to him about it and filled him in on Jack's changed status. All of this made perfect sense to Jack.

The Cub was also excited about finding the eggs. We talked a lot about where the eggs might be hidden. Jack loved hearing about where Steve and I found eggs when we were kids. (Steve: behind pillows on the couch, Me: in my shoes) He also repeatedly stressed that if there were Easter eggs hidden under the kitchen table, he would be able to break from our usual policy and crawl under to get them.

We dyed Easter eggs for the very first time this year. It was a fun and messy affair, especially since Jack wanted to make most of his eggs blue - the most finger staining dye is also his favorite color.

Jack also had a great time at the Easter egg hunt that we went to. I remember very well his first Easter, in which we went to the egg hunt in South Riding, held our four month old baby, and just watched the big kids. And that at the time, a two year old seemed ancient and huge. This year, Jack quickly and eagerly filled his basket. It's not like it was difficult; the word "hunt" is a misnomer. There is no hunting involved when the eggs are all spread across a football field and all you have to do is pick them up. But I'm not complaining, because there were Tootsie Rolls in there. Mmm, Tootsie Rolls!

Easter morning was even more fun. The eggs were, in fact, hidden. Jack was excited that the Easter Bunny was using his old hiding places of behind the pillows and in the shoes. And he was, indeed authorized to go under the table. Jack was especially excited to find his Easter basket. His favorite gift was a DVD of Enchanted. He pulled it out of the basket, gasped, and said, "I cannot believe I got this today!"

The other reason having a kid is fun? No way is he going to be able to eat all of those jelly beans himself.

The Loneliness of a Long Distance Runner

This week's Take It and Run Thursday is all about Running Communities. I don't know what it is about me and TIART, but once again, I find myself bursting into song. So, with apologies to George Thorogood and the Destroyers...

The other day I went running
Wanted to get back to the basics
So I grabbed up my pal Garmin
And her partner, the Asics

And we ran alone, yeah
With nobody else
Yeah, you know when I run alone
I prefer to be by myself

One of the things I love best about running is that I can do it by myself. Yes, in general, I like the other humans who populate this planet, and I think runners are awesome. But I like having my own schedule. I like that if I linger a few minutes too long drinking coffee before heading out for a long run that it doesn't affect anyone else. I like not having to worry if I am going too fast or too slow.

I like not being responsible for anybody else but me.

In my regular life, both as a mom and at work, I have to organize other people all the time. Much of the time, it falls on me to make sure everything gets done and gets done right. It's a relief not to have to do it when it comes to running.

And yet...

While I don't long for a group to go running with, I do wish that I could get together with some other runners after I go running. We'd eat a big pile of carbs and have super nerdy running related conversations that non-runners could not even begin to feign interest in.

Well, thank Yoda for the internet. It might not be my dream pasta binge with friends, but I can talk to my BRF's any time about the excitement of a new pair of shoes, how I rocked out last night's track workout (which I totally did, by the way, and I think I might be secretly Kenyan), and how upset I was when my knee was bothering me. And I get just as excited about the races my BRF's are running as if I were there.

Thanks to BRFs, I get the solitude and independence that I want when I hit the road with my friends the Garmin and the Asics, but I still have other runners to geek out with. It's the best of both worlds

Mean People Suck

Last night, the boys and I went to the mall so that Jack could get his picture taken with the Easter Bunny. It has to be said, in his khakis, oxford, and argyle sweater vest, he was pretty much the cutest thing ever, especially when he was casually standing with his hands in his pockets, waiting to talk to the Easter Bunny about jelly beans.

After the pictures were taken and Jack had his chat with his bunniness, we went to the play area. Jack was excited to sit in a little car, as he was pretending to drive to Disney World. He got out of the car to run around, and in the time he was gone, a boy and girl sat in the car.

Jack was mad, because he wanted to get back in. Steve and I gave him the speech about how the car is not his, is there for everybody to play with, we have to take turns, blah, blah, blah. I swear, sometimes I bore myself with the parent speeches.

Jack was not happy. He tried, half-heartedly, to play with something else, but even after I pointed out that the rocket ship was red and that he could play Little Einsteins, all he could think about was the car.

First, he just kept a careful eye on the car, hoping that the other kids would tire of it and he'd have another turn. No such luck. Then, he tried to get them to play with him. I saw him approach the other kids with a, "Hey, guys," and an animated discussion of driving to see Mickey Mouse. They ignored him. Then, Jack noticed that the kids had a stash of books in the car at their feet. He brought them more books. The kids responded by wacking each other in the head with the books.

As all of this went on, Steve and I slipped from our primary objective, which was to make sure that our kid behaved appropriately, to watching the way the other kids were behaving. The kids knew very well that Jack wanted to play with the car, so they baracaded themselves in. If the little boy got out of the car, his sister stretched herself out across the front seat so that there was no room for Jack to get in if he wanted to. They ignored his friendly overtures, choosing instead to divide their attentions between fighting with each other and aggressively ignoring him.

To put it simply, they were jerks.

Finally, Steve and I called Jack over to us. Steve explained very gently to Jack that those other kids were not nice. They were fighting, and they refused to share. It's no fun to play with kids who are not nice, so it was time for us to leave and to go get that ice cream we'd talked about.

Ice cream, happily, proved to be just the distraction we needed, so Jack forgot all about the car, the drive to Disney World, and the mean kids.

As my little guy grows up, I am watching him navigate more and more social interactions. He is learning all the time. It makes me sad to realize that one of the lessons that he is learning is that there are people out there who are just jerks. Even if you try to be nice, try to share, and try to be friendly, they'll shut you out and be mean.

Luckily, sometimes ice cream helps.

Super Mommy Powers

I was hanging out downstairs the other day when Jack stood at the top of the stairs and yelled, "MOMMY! WILL YOU PLEASE MAKE ROARY'S TAIL TINY?" The next thing I heard was the familiar thump of a little stuffed tiger being chucked down the stairs. I fixed Roary's tail, then threw him back up the stairs to Jack.

I thought it was funny - and a bit encouraging - that Jack found a solution to this problem that did not just involve him wailing to me until I came and fixed the tail. So, I shared this story with my mom and Steve.

Both of their faces lit up. "What does he mean when he says that," they both wanted to know. Jack, apparently, has asked both of them to make Roary's tail "tiny." My mom changed the subject; Steve said that he didn't know what that meant and that he just wanted to drink his coffee. In both cases, Jack gave up, presumably waiting until I could solve this problem.

Jack rubs Roary's tail when he needs a little extra comfort or love. There are times when Jack will otherwise seem to be in a good mood, but I'll see him sneak in a quick tail rub. And Jack likes Roary's tail best when all of the stuffing is smooshed out of his tail and into his body. Stuffing will occasionally sneak back into his tail, at which point Jack asks for help making it "tiny" again. Everytime a Roary gets out of the washing machine, I always re-tiny his tail before giving him to Jack.

I told Mom and Steve how to make the tail tiny and almost immediately regretted it. Here I had a specialized skill - I shouldn't have shared it with anyone else, as that knowledge gave me power and importance.

I needn't have worried. Apparently, nobody makes Roary's tail tiny as well as Mommy does.

In the Mood

When it came time yesterday morning for me to do my 7 mile run, I was not in the mood.

I wasn't hurt or sick. I wasn't in a bad mood. I just wasn't feeling it. There are days when I cannot get my running shoes on fast enough, I'm so excited to go out and hit the streets. This was not one of those days. I really would have preferred to just lounge around the house.

An unexpected benefit of being busy is that sometimes, you just don't have the luxury of not being in the mood. That seven miler needed to get done yesterday, one way or the other, if I was going to keep on track with my trisko training plan.

And the time to do it, like it or not, was 9:00 yesterday morning. I needed to make sure I had enough time to run, go home, shower, and dry my hair before going with Jack to a friend's birthday party. And if I'd waited until after the party, then who knows if I'd have gotten done or not. I still had to make dinner, give Jack a bath, get gas, buy Easter basket stuff for Jack - oh, and an outfit, fold and put away some laundry, go over weekly schedules with Steve, and hopefully go to the garden show.

If I had waited until I felt like it, I might not have been able to go at all. And when I miss a run - or am even not sure when I'll get a chance to go - it makes me cranky.

So, even though I wasn't in the mood, I went. I was utterly bored for the first mile or so. But then, like always, I turned a corner.

This wasn't a run for the ages. My time was completely average, and I didn't see or do anything exciting. But I did get to experience that virtuous feeling of being the only person out exercising at that moment. And I felt great once it was over, especially knowing I could dive into that birthday cake, guilt free.

Not being in the mood is just not an excuse for me. If I get out there and run, my mood inevitably will change.

Going the Distance in Your Mind

The topic of this week's Take it and Run Thursday is the long run. If you're not Paula Radcliffe, Meb Keflezighi, or Marathon Dude Bill, who can knock out a 20 miler on their lunch breaks, those long runs will take you a loooooong time to finish. I'm reminded of the song "Going the Distance" by Cake (which totally deserves a spot on your iPod if it's not there already).

As they speed thru the finish the flags go down.
The fans get up, and get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup,
But he's driving and striving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.

On a long run, you're out there all alone, with no trophy to run towards, no fans cheering you on. How do you keep going? The key is in your head. Here are my tips for going the distance in your mind.

1. Break it up. If you step out the door thinking, "Okay, only 20 miles to go," you will lose your mind and want to quit. My friend Sandy was advised to think of her 20 mile run not as a 20 mile run, but rather as four 5 mile runs. I like to break up my run into several different loops. I'll run four out and back, stop at home and get some water, do another four out and back, stop at home again, and then do two out and back. That allows me to focus just on the miles I'm running in that loop, not the total.

2. Mix it up. Those loops that I run are not all the same. If I did 20 miles worth of passing the same scenery over and over again, I'd get bored. So, the first loop might take me through a neighborhood, the next by the river, and the final a tried and true quick loop.

3. Listen. My iPod is an excellent companion on long runs. I usually buy a couple of new songs before a long run, sort of as a pre-reward. And I still love listening to "This American Life" - and thanks to all of you who told me where to get the podcasts for free. I get so caught up on those stories that an hour has passed before I know it.

4. Distract yourself. As much as I love the iPod, sometimes it helps to think about something else. Last fall, I performed the wedding ceremony for my good friends Dan and Liana. During long runs, I'd go through the ceremony and what I wanted to say. I probably wrote 95% of it in my head while running. I also like to think about upcoming vacations, books and movies, what I want to make for dinner - fun stuff like that.

5. Use your imagination. When I take gel, water, gummy bears, or whatever, I like to pretend that I am "powering up" like a character in a video game. I picture the power running through me, filling me with light and making me stronger.

6. Break it up. Yeah, I know - I said this one already. But when the going gets tough, you need to really break it up. Get yourself from one tree to the next. Push yourself to the next parked car. Keep going, step by step, until you're done.

7. Plan a reward. Running a long run is not easy, and it helps a lot to have something to look forward to when you're done. I buy myself little presents (running outfits, of course, or new music), or plan the all-important food reward. I finished my 18 mile run last year dreaming of a Snickers bar for pretty much the entire last 5 miles. And laws, did that thing taste good.

By the time you get to the point in your training that you're supposed to run a long distance, your body is ready. Get your mind ready, and before long, you'll be going the distance.

The Well-Timed Tantrum

Things were going well between Jack and me last night. After work, he and I went running together. That is, the first part of the run was done in the jogging stroller. Then, on the way back, we stopped at the park and he ran around the baseball diamonds yelling "You can't catch me!" like a maniac. This is probably a good time to note that he was wearing his Superman costume at the time, delighting in the way the cape billowed behind him. Afterwards, we had dinner together while watching Beauty and the Beast: Enchanted Christmas, which we got from the library as a special treat. My boy loves princesses.

When the movie was over, it was time to go to bed. I quickly discovered that it was really time to go to bed, because Jack hit the wall. He bonked. Or, if you're thinking of him as a little kid, and not a runner, he had a tantrum.

The tantrum began because he didn't want to go to bed, he wanted to eat ice cream. I said no to the ice cream because he hadn't eaten enough of his sandwich, but gave him an opportunity to eat more sandwich, thereby earning ice cream.

But the tantrum quickly spiraled out of control so that pretty much everything was setting him off. He wanted ice cream and he didn't like his sandwich but he did want his sandwich and I shouldn't throw it away and he was upset because his nose was running and because I couldn't get him a tissue fast enough and because he wanted to pick out his own pajamas and no he didn't he wanted his favorite Spidey ones...

And, infinity.

Eventually, he got fed up and asked me to leave him alone. I honestly thought that was a good idea, and not just because I wanted to ditch his crazy ass. I told him to come get me when he was feeling calmer, and that I'd be in the study. I was checking my email and listening to the crying in the next room when the phone rang. Steve!

Steve was in a great mood, due in part because he was a little drunk. We chatted, and I told him briefly what was going on. Then, I asked if he would talk to Jack. Not to solve things, but to possibly interrupt the cycle of freaking out.

I put Jack on the phone, and he alternated between telling Daddy about the things that were upsetting him (including "I wanted ice cream" and "I did not listen to Mommy") and telling him about his day ("Mommy and I went running and our shoes got dirty" and "Grandma and I made pizza"). All of it was covered in a thick layer of tears and snot, so Steve only understood "ice cream" and "wah."

So, no pattern interrupt. I forged ahead, and got a toothbrush into his cry-hole. Minutes later, the phone rang again. I figured it was Steve, so I had Jack answer the phone.

Jack asked, "Daddy, is that you?" several times in a teary, pitiful little voice. Finally, he said, "It's not Daddy" and handed the phone to me.

"Hello, may I speak to Mrs. Elizabeth Way-sur?" asked a heavily accented voice.

Yes, my name is Elizabeth, but nobody ever calls me that. And my last name is not Way-sur, rhymes with laser, but Wasser, rhymes with, um, tosser. There's only one kind of person who would call me Mrs. Elizabeth Way-sur:

A telemarketer.

I told the guy that this was not a good time (a fact that should have been incredibly obvious) and hung up the phone. It was pretty much the most awesome way to get rid of a telemarketer ever.

I hung up the phone and explained to Jack in terms a three-year-old can understand what a telemarketer is and why they are annoying ("No! I don't want any aluminium siding!") and how he saved Mommy from having to talk to the guy.

This cheered him up considerably, so after a couple of high fives and a bedtime story in which Remy from Ratatouille meets Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, Jack, and Roary on his way to buy cheese, then gets rid of a telemarketer, he was fast asleep.

Eye of the Tiger

Behold, the training montage from my very favorite Rocky movie of all, the delightfully cheesy Rocky IV. Rocky boxes against Russian Ivan Drago, to avenge his friend Apollo Creed and, of course, for America. The training montage - a staple of all Rocky films - contrasts the high-tech experience of Ivan Drago with the honest hard work of Rocky.

I have to admit, I often pretend that I am in this training montage myself. Usually, I am Rocky. I'm the honest, hard working athlete. No need for fancy technology for me - I'm out there running in the snow, chopping blocks of wood, dragging Pauly on a sled behind me.

But when I'm forced to exercise indoors on the hated treadmill, it makes the time go a little more pleasantly if I pretend that I am the Russian. Scientists from across the country have banded together to create the optimal training experience for me. Computers measure the length of my stride, my footfalls, my speed, all to make me the ultimate athlete. I am practically a machine, I am so strong. She is not a woman, she is like a piece of iron! I must break you.

Flying Solo

Steve is in Texas for the week, leaving me and Captain Crazy Cubbypants to fend for ourselves.

Obviously, I am perfectly capable of taking care of the little man on my own. But having two adults around definitely makes life easier. One can entertain him while the other makes dinner, for example. Also, the possibility of my going to the bathroom alone is considerably greater.

At the moment, Jack and I are working well together. He has watched just half an hour of TV since Steve has been gone. We've eaten nothing but healthy snacks (plus one cookie each). I have made arrangements so that I don't have to miss any workouts. Last night, we even took a trip to the library, where we read a zillion books and were pretty much a model of mommy-son educational adorableness.

Tonight, I'm planning on our baking banana bread together, then maybe doing some paint with water. I am also making an effort to take good care of myself - getting enough sleep, treaing myself to healthy foods and a daily latte from 'bucks. I even have a big bouquet of cheerful orange flowers on my desk.

Why do I have the nagging feeling that soon, all of this is going to fall apart?

By the time Steve gets back, Jack and I will be camped out in front of the TV, watching all six Star Wars movies on an endless loop, eating nothing but goldfish crackers and macaroni and cheese directly from the pan?

Batgirl to the Rescue

So, the other night, I walk into Jack's room and see this in progress.

Steve: Come on, buddy. You can't wear your Batman costume out to dinner. Let's put on a nice sweater and a pair of pants.*

Jack: WAAAAHH! IWANTTOBEBATMANANDDADDYWON'TLETMEBEBATMANANDIDOWANTTOBEBATMAN!

Steve: Jack, if you act like this, we're not going to be able to go out for pizza at all. Remember, nice guys get nice things.

Jack: I'MNOTJACKI'MBATMANANDIWANTTOBEBATMANANDIWANTTOGETPIZZAWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

Me: Steve, tag me in and go take a break.

Steve: If he's going to be like this...

Me: I know, but let me try.

Jack: IWANTTOBEBATMANANDIWANTTOBEASUPERHEROANDDADDYSAYSNOANDI

Me: Jack, see this t-shirt? It's a Batman shirt, just like the one in your costume.

Jack: But I want to wear my costume!

Me: What you could do, Batman, is wear this shirt under the sweater that Daddy picked out.

Jack: I want to be Batman!

Me: Batman, think about it. What if the Joker is out at the restaurant eating pizza. If you show up in your full-on Batman costume, he'll know it's you right away and he'll run off. This way, you can go in disguise and can catch him or any other bad guys who might be in the mood for pizza tonight.

Jack: Okay, Mommy.

Me: I'm Batgirl.




*for the record, I probably would have just let him wear the costume to dinner, becuase who cares? But it's more important to present a unified front if we want Jack to respect parental authority/if I don't want to sleep in the guest room

More on the Magic Shoes

Oh, Internet! I love that my fellow running geeks are almost as excited about my new shoes as I am. Here are the details:

They are the Asics Gel-3000, which is a stability shoe. They are shiny:



My last, like, five pairs of running shoes have been Asics. I am not completely married to the brand, but you know what? They work for me. I got them at my local running store, Running Wild. It's a great place - the guys who work there are incredibly helpful, and it makes me feel good to support a local business, and not, like, Dick's.

And you know what, babies? These suckers work.

I was nervous about last night's workout, which was 6 x 400 at 8:00 pace. I have not done quarters since the ancient days of high school, but I still remember very, very well that it was always a tough workout. I remember once doing a whopping 20 quarters, an experience that made me figure, "Eh, I did 20 quarters once, so childbirth should be all right."

I figured I'd do as many of the repeats at 8:00 pace as I could, and would not beat myself up if I couldn't do all of them that fast. That I have time to improve, and I'll be able to do better in my next speedwork.

But guess what? I rocked that thing OUT!

All six of them were on pace, and if I'd needed to, I could have done more - or done the last couple faster. And when I was done, I felt absolutely exhilarated.

See, I told you: new shoes are magic.

Magic

The subject of this week's Take It and Run Thursday is Gear, Gadgets, and Equipment. I toyed with the idea of doing a photo blog of all of my beloved running gear - and I totally reserve the right to do that for a future post. But this week, my thoughts turned to one subject.

When I was a kid, I loved going to the shoe store for new sneakers. I’d look at everything, learn my new shoe size, and try on several different styles so I could be confident I’d found the very best pair. And like any kid worth her salt, I always wore my new shoes out of the store. With the excitement and magic of a new pair of shoes within my grasp, how could I possibly put my old shoes back on?
As a kid, I was a firm believer in the magic of new shoes. With these new shoes, I could play longer, jump higher, and run faster. New shoes positively hummed with potential.

And now? I feel very much the same.

On last Sunday’s six mile run, I felt a bit of an ache in my shins and in my feet, an ache that could mean only one thing: time for new shoes. The very next day on my lunch break, I packed up my old shoes and a pair of running socks and headed to my local running store.

Just like when I was a kid, I gazed happily at the wall of running shoes wondering which pair would be the magical ones for me. I tried on a couple pair, jumped up and down on them, paced around the store, and finally chose the ones that are right for me.

I had to go back to work, so unfortunately, I couldn’t wear my new shoes out of the store. But I set the box next to me in the car and snuck glances at the new shoes every chance I had.

Once again, I felt the potential, the magic, of the new shoes. These shoes will take me through months of workouts and will be on my feet when I run my very first half marathon. These shoes will help me play longer, jump higher, and run faster.
New shoes are magic.

Come On Already

Winter has officially overstayed its welcome.

At first, it was lovely. Sparkly, fluffy white snow blanketed Stately Wasser Manor. I'd snuggle inside with the boys and bake things. Jack and I built a Snowmommy and a Snowkid.



I even discovered the peace of running outside while snow lightly covered my eyelashes.

But you know what? It's March, and I want spring, damnit.

We had a break in the cold on Sunday. It was glorious - I went running outside, in short sleeves. There were rivers of melted snow everywhere, soaking my feet as I went along. I was even bold enough to do something I don't usually do - I bought spring clothes, even though I knew it might be a while until I could wear them. Swirly full linen skirts, the most delicate cardigan in a soft blue, tiny floral prints. I hate buying things only to have to leave them in my closet for weeks, but I just couldn't resist. I was ready to leave behind my sweaters, heavy coats, and boots in favor of lightweight slips of things. And sandals, even if it means having to find time to keep my toenails polished.

The warm weather was a great big tease. It got cold again overnight. And all of those rivers of melted snow have catlicking frozen, which made last night's run into an obstacle course.

The forecasts for the rest of the week are no better. Cold temperatures, chances of snow.

But stil, I am determined to feel hope. Tomorrow, I am going to buy a bouquet of daffodils for my desk. Their sunny color will remind me that the sky will not be grey forever. Spring will come.

All Dressed Up...

Being Jack's mom is never boring. Sometimes, I'll walk into the living room and encounter this:



As Tim Gunn would say, "That's a lot of look."

You've got the shiny white space suit, so why not accent that with a great big pirate belt? And if that doesn't make enough of a statement, you'll want to throw in the skull necklace. And headband with attached Johnny Depp dreads. Plus, no need to worry about other kids making fun of you, 'cause you've got your trusty sword and a map to get out of there.

Last week, he went through a phase that lasted two days in which he wore an orange fishing vest over his regular clothes and insisted that he was Diego. I met him and Steve out for dinner and we had this conversation.

Jack: MOMMY!
Me: Hi, Cub. Hi, Roary.
Jack (in Roary voice): No, Dora. I'm still Baby Jaguar.
Me: Oh, of course you are.

Jack also told me on Friday that one of his friends at school insisted that he was Diego. The nerve! I asked Jack if maybe they could both be Diego. Jack gave me a look that was so weary, that so clearly conveyed, "Lady, if you think that, then I don't even know where to start with you." It was a look, in short, that I didn't expect to see for at least 9 years. Jack told me that he told his friend, basically, "Dude, I have the vest, so obviously you have no argument." He told the other kid that he could be Tico (since I was already Dora and Roary was already Baby Jaguar). He's nothing if not reasonable.

Tonight, I came home to this:


Jack is wearing the Batman shirt that my mom made for my brother when he was about four years old. She couldn't find the cape and hood that went with it, so she made him a new one - and then upped the ante of coolness by throwing in a cape for Roary so he can be Battiger.



Bad guys beware!

My Special Purpose

"My dear family, guess what. Today I found out what my special purpose is for. Gosh what a great time I had. I wish my whole family could have been here with me. Maybe some other time as I intend to do this a lot. Every chance I get."

--Navin R. Johnson (aka Steve Martin in The Jerk)

In these past few weeks of running, I feel like I have re-discovered My Special Purpose. The trisko* training is underway, and I have a direction and a focus that my running hasn't had in months. It feels like I'm going somewhere, even if I am just running on the damned treadmill.

Here's my new routine:
Monday: Weight training at the gym, yoga in the evening.
Tuesday: Short recovery run (3-5 miles)
Wednesday: Speed workouts! I will alternate quarters (aka 400 meter repeats) and tempo runs.
Thursday: Weight training and a 3 mile run
Firday: Rest
Saturday: Short runs of 3-5 miles, some at race pace, some slow.
Sunday: Long run

All of this will lead to my very first trisko on Mother's Day. And shortly after that? Time to ramp up training for my second marathon, at which I intend to PR. I intend to do this a lot. Maybe every chance I get.

*Half marathon to those of you not in the know.

Ooh La La

It's time for another Take it and Run Thursday. The theme is "If I Knew Then What I Know Now" and it totally makes me want to fire up my Rushmore soundtrack and listen to the song "Ooh La La" by The Faces.

I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was younger.
I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was stronger.

I'm happy to say that I haven't done anything too horribly foolish in my running. I mean, yeah, I would have finished the Des Moines marathon faster if I'd done more hill training. I was under the mistaken impression that there were maybe two hills in the first 7 miles of the course, while in fact there were probably only two little stretches that were flat. But my goal was to make it across the finish line, and I did that.

But the one mistake that I made when running was way back in 1989, and it still resonates with me so many years later.

The mistake?

I forgot to bring a sports bra with me to cross country practice, so I just wore my regular bra. I thought it'd be fine, and that it would keep the girls more or less in check. That it did - they really weren't going anywhere.

But, Internet? Oh, the chafing. The spot on my chest right between the girls was pretty well completely worn off, and I cannot tell you how much that hurt. It hurt anytime any article of clothing touched it, and any time I sweated, it would sting like crazy.

Suffice it to say, that is a mistake I will never, ever make again. I would rather run barefoot than without a sports bra.

(this post was totally sexy)

Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane

Jack (through his bedroom door): MARY JAAAANE! MARY JAAANE!
Me: What?
Jack: Mary Jane! Guess what? Green Goblin is in my room.
Me: Jack...
Jack: Don't forget, call me Spidey.
Me: Spidey, it's time to go to sleep, sweetie.
Jack: But Mary Jane, Green Goblin -
Me: Spidey, do you have your webs?
Jack: Yes.
Me: Is your spider-sense working?
Jack: Yes.
Me: Then I think you can handle this yourself. Web him up and go to sleep.
Jack: Okay, Mommy.
Me: That's Mary Jane.

I'd Rather Be Running

The theme for this week's Take It and Run Thursday is Strength and Flexibility.

And, um...

Sometimes, I tell Jack that he needs to eat some chicken nuggets before he eats more french fries. Jack likes chicken nuggets, sure. They're (relatively) good for him, yeah. But sometimes, they're just something to get through so he can get to the stuff he really wants, namely the fries.

For me, strength and flexibility are to chicken nuggets as french fries are to running. I acknoweldge that they're good for me and will make me a stronger runner, but the truth is, I pretty much just do them because I have to in order to excel at the running that I really care about.

Let's start with the strength training. My New Year's resolution this year was to take my running to the next level. Last year when my running renaissance began, I was happy just to be putting in the miles. This year, I am adding strength training back in to make me stronger - and to hopefully keep my knee injury from cropping up again. I'll lift 1-2 times a week on easy running days. Much like taking my vitamins every day, I'll do it, and I won't complain about it, but I'm not going to get excited about it, either.

Flexibility?

Bwahahahaha!

My body? Does not bend.

I do stretch after every run. It's another example of taking my vitamins. I know it's good for me, and I know it will help prevent injuries. And I figure since I've already put in, at minimum, half an hour running, I might as well spend another five or ten minutes stretching. But Internet, it is not a pretty sight.

Remember when we had to do the Presidential Physical Fitness tests in school? I always did a respectable number of sit-ups. Managed to hang well for the flexed arm hang. Completely rocked out the running tests.

But then, there was the sit and reach test. You'd sit on your butt with your legs straight out in front of you and reach as far as you could.

Every single time, the tester would say, "Okay, go ahead and start," only to discover that I had already started, and was, in fact, struggling.

Also, I cannot touch my toes. Not even close.

I'm following Hal Higdon's Intermediate program for my Trisko training, and he designates Mondays as a Stretch & Strengthen day. I'll pretty much do whatever Hal tells me to do at this point, so I have designated Monday as Yoga Day. I even have a yoga DVD called - I kid you not - Yoga for Inflexible People.

I had my first Yoga Day this week, and it was pretty much the most pathetic thing you ever saw. For one thing, as I mentioned, I do not bend, so it really didn't look like much.

Even more amusingly, the DVD, of course, was a model of tranquility. Gentle music, lots of talk about breathing, blah, blah, blah. I was about the least tranquil thing you ever saw. Put aside the fact that I was red-faced and straining. Instead, consider the fact that I had to pause the catlicking thing three times to put Jack back to bed. I was not a model of peace and calm; I was a model of, "Sweetheart, if you don't go the hell to sleep, I don't know what I am going to do."

Still, you can't just eat french fries all the time. Sometimes, you need to eat some chicken nuggets in order to keep balance in your life.

Of course, it is possible that I have stretched this metaphor far more than I can stretch my body.

Ice, Ice Baby

Internet? I am officially sick and tired of winter. Enough already. The snow, it is pretty. But I could realy do without the ice that covers every surface, effectively screwing up my plans for most things.

I officially started my trisko training this week. I don't mind running in the cold, and I don't care if there's snow on the ground. But ice is a problem. By the time I get out to run, it's dark, and if I can't see the ground, it's just too risky that I'll slip and fall.

So, yesterday, i did something that I really didn't want to do: I ran indoors on a treadmill.

Sweet Yoda, it was boring.

I only ran 3 miles, which under normal circumstances is easy-breezy. Done in no time. On the treadmill, even at my usual pace, it took for-freaking-ever. Not even the combination between my iPod and a trashy MTV show on TV could distract me from the pointless boringness of what I was doing. And there is no sign of any thaw any time soon, so I am going to be stuck doing this for the foreseeable future. BLECH.

In general, I am out of sorts. I'm over the flu, but my cough lingers, so I often find myself wheezing or hacking up a lung. And now Jack is sick, which has not diminished his energy level, but has increased his whininess and neediness. He also cannot manage to stay asleep all night, so he'll come dragging into MommyDaddy room to tell me that he wants a drink of water - from the glass that he walked past in order to find me and give me this news. Or, even more pathetically, "Mommy, will you sleep with me?" Apparently, just having me on the floor next to his bed was comforting enough for him to go back to sleep, the poor little guy.

Really, this entire post is about me complaining.

Making the Miles Fly

This week for .Take It and Run Thursday, the topic is music and podcasts. I generally listen to music while I'm running and have been known to completely rock out to my Power Song, which is "All These Things That I've Done" by The Killers. I am not ashamed to admit that when I was training for my first marathon last year, I had a vivid mental image of myself racing to the finish line with cheering crowds on either side of me that synched up perfectly with that song.

But for long runs, the absolute best bang for my buck is downloads of This American Life from iTunes.

Each episode is about an hour long and costs 99 cents. That is a freaking bargain. And the stories are funny. Or sad. Or poignant. And the next thing you know, an hour has passed and it's time to listen to another one.

I know there are places where you can download a playlist with songs of a certain number of beats per minute designed to optimize your stride and make you run faster. But, um, I am not fast enough for that to matter. The dulcent tones of Ira Glass are enough to keep me going.

Wonders Never Cease

First of all, Internet, thank you for all your kind get well wishes. Whoever said you were good for nothing but porn? Not me.

Yesterday was full of miraculous happenings at Stately Wasser Manor. Jack and I went to the card store to get valentines for Steve. While we were there, Jack said, "Mommy, do they have a potty here?" I told him that they did not, and he loudly announced that he needed to "go poopy," instantly making me think of Vickie Iovine's promise that if your kids don't embarass you on a regular basis, you are not getting your money's worht out of parenthood.

I told him that we'd need to go home (only two minutes away), and asked him to PLEASE wait until we got there. Believe it or not, it worked. He actually held it, just like a grown human. I rewarded him with a giant pile of Junior Mints.

I've been hesitant to say it, afraid to jinx myself, but I think the kid has pretty well figured out this potty training thing. He cannot yet be trusted to remember on his own to go to the bathroom, but with prompting, the accidents are extremely rare. Like, two in a month rare. And 3-4 mornings a week, he wakes up dry. Crazy!

And here's an even bigger shock. Last night, we were eating dinner, and Jack said, "I yike salad." And then he allowed me to put a lettuce leaf on his plate. And then he picked up the lettuce leaf. And then he ATE the lettuce leaf. Steve and I nearly died of shock. Jack told me that his teacher, Miss Julie, convinced him to try salad. The next time I see her, I am giving that woman a big hug.

Death's Door

Internet, I have been sick.

Really, really sick, with the flu. I can't remember the last time I have been so sick. If I watched TV for more than an hour, the effort of holding my body upright was such that I had to take a nap. At night, I couldn't sleep, between coughing and having weird fever dreams. When I went to the doctor, the nurse offered to give me my B-12 shot, and I declined, the prospect of putting all my weight on one foot for 20 seconds while she gave me the shot too exhausting.

Today, I am kind of back with the living. I'm going to work for a partial day. Today marks the first time I have left the house since my doctor's appointment on Friday. The first day since Thursday I have worn pants other than sweatpants and have put on a pair of shoes.

Steve's main way of helping me feel better has been to take over with Jack completely so that he didn't bug me and so that I wouldn't feel compelled to help him. It was the perfect thing to do.

As for Jack, he has called to check on me from Grandma's house. And yesterday before he left, he brought me about 12 different stuffed animals, some to keep me company, others to keep each other company. He has also been extremely understanding of the fact that I have yet to take him to see the Princess Giselle movie as promised.

I am completely bored with being sick and am hoping to be back to normal soon.

Half Some Respect

The topic for this week's Take It and Run Thursday is the half marathon. This is a subject that is near and dear to my heart because in about a week, I am going to start officially training for my first half marathon, the Quad Cities Distance Classic.

A half marathon is the only standard distance that I have never raced. I'm excited about it, because I think it'll be a fun distance to race. 13.1 miles is a long way to go, so it will be challenging, but it's a lot more manageable than a full marathon. I am going to train hard for it, but because the mileage is less, I just won't have to put in as much time.

There's just one problem with the half marathon: the name.

There is no other race that is defined by it's relationship to some other race. A 5K isn't a Half 10K, for crying out loud. Calling the distance a half marathon makes it seem like something less important, less challenging than it is.

I have several friends who've run half marathons. Here are some of the reactions they've gotten:

• Oh, so you didn't want to run a whole marathon?



• Just a half?



• So, when are you going to run the other half of your marathon?

Granted these people are not runners, but rather the same people who say things like "I never run unless someone's chasing me" and expect you to laugh like they are the first person ever to come up with that little gem. Runners respect the half, and the unique challenges it poses.

Still...

In the movie Spirit of the Marathon, one of the runners jokingly says that he runs marathons for the t-shirt. There is some truth to that, honestly. We don't wear our race t-shirts just to cover our bodies. We wear them so that people will look at them and say, "Wow, she's a runner. That's bad-ass." A half marathon runner, someone who hauls themselves 13.1 miles, deserves that same kind of respect and awe.

So, what can we call a half marathon that will make non-runners give halfers the respect they deserve? Triskaidekaphobia is the fear of the number thireen. How about we rename the half the Trisko? Now that's a race to be feared - and respected.

Pop-Up Blocker

Here at Stately Wasser Manor, we have been having huge problems with pop-ups. No, not the annoying kind you find on the internet. Worse. These pop-ups occur when we tuck Jack into bed, only to have him pop up eighty bazillion times over the course of two hours.

It is maddening. For one thing, by the time I put that wee maniac to bed, chances are, I'm ready for a break. Or, I've got stuff that I need to do that is hampered by having to return him to bed over and over again. And the kid needs his sleep, so spending two hours fighting it is not helping things.

I've tried the "stick" approach to discipline - taking away stuff he likes if he gets out of bed. But even the threat (carried out) of taking away his Buzz Lightyear costume for a day could not keep him in bed. He explained, "I just want to talk to Mommy." Thanks, but no thanks.

Then, I decided to see if he was old enough to be motivated by the old standby, the sticker chart. Jack and I worked together to draw a chart, using his current favorite color of blue. For each night that he stays in his bed, he gets a sticker - princess stickers, since that's what I had handy. After he gets five stickers, he gets a treat. The treat he chose was to go to the movies to see Enchanted with me.

I cannot believe how well it worked. Every morning, he'll come find me, proudly asking for his sticker, and we'll put it up together. He immediately went five days in a row with no pop-ups whatsoever. We're making plans for a Saturday Princess Giselle outing, and have already made his new chart. This time, Jack will earn his very own copy of The Wizard of Oz.

Best of all, he feels a real sense of accomplishment. He is truly proud of doing so well.

Mail Slot Details

I had a feeling my adventures in the mail slot would garner some interest. According to my mom, the dimensions of the mail slot are 14 x 11.5 inches.



It is also probably about a four foot drop from the mail slot to the floor, so I'm happy I didn't have to take that face first.

Update: Here's me and the mail slot.

Saving the Family

It was a weekend of adventures at Stately Wasser Manor.

Saturday morning, I took off to get my hair cut and colored while the boys planned a fun daddy-son morning. I had my phone turned off, so I was not aware of the fact that Steve had locked the two of them out of the house. Once Steve realized that I was not going to answer my phone, he started hunting around for solutions.

He got the ladder out of the garage, climbed it, and removed the screen from a window in the dining room. He gave Jack some instructions, carried him up the ladder, and slowly lowered him into the house. Jack realized the gravity of his assignment and therefore did not take advatanage of this as an opportunity to watch TV and eat cookies, but rather raced over to the back door and let Steve in the house. Steve told Jack that he "saved the family."

And on a plus note, my hair looks great.

That night, I went over to my mom and Doug's house to take care of the cats, mail, and empty some bucket that has to do with water runoff from the furnace. Important stuff. Unfortunately, their lock is tricky, and no matter what I tried with the catlicking key, I could not make it even budge. Meanwhile, Fannie May, one of the cats, was looking at me through the window and crying.

It was time, once again, to save the family. But how could I get into the house?

Nancy and Doug have a large mail slot - bigger than a letter, I assure you. I discovered that if I took off my coat (to reduce bulk) and put my hands over my shoulders to make them narrower, I could probably fit. Nevertheless, I had my cell phone in my hand in case I got stuck like Pooh. I shoved myself into the house and even figured out a way to contort my body so I didn't have to take the four foot drop face first. The cats were fed, the bucket was empty, and the family was saved!

Plus I have bruises on my abdomen as a badge of honor.

Sunday, I decided to run over to their house to feed the cats, then run home to combine tasks. It was lightly snowing when I left - it was lovely. By the time I started back home it was snowing, um, cats and dogs. The snow was blowing into my face from both directions, and there was so much of it that I couldn't see far in front of me.

Still, I got in five miles without Paula beeping at me to speed up. And this is what I looked like when I got back:



How many toughness points do I earn for that one?

Sailing the Seven Seas to the Dairy Aisle

Because, again, if you have a Captain Jack Sparrow costume, why wouldn't you wear it to the grocery store?

Because You Demanded It

Here is the famous Stormtrooper The Lizard in all his glory.



The thing actually turned out better than I thought it would.

Commuter Cam

My friend Tyler recently issued the challenge for people to photograph, then blog their commutes. Fun, right? Liana was up for it, too. So, with that, here's how I get to work.

The start is always the same - here's the driveway leading away from Stately Wasser Manor.

And here's my street.


I pass this new store called Gameology. It's where you can hang out late into the night pounding Red Bull and playing Halo or whatever. I am semi-terrified of it.


This is a crappy picture, but I had to post it anyway. It's of a tattoo parlor, and 90% of the time, there are heavily tatted guys hanging out in front smoking. The tattoo parlor is almost exactly one mile away from my house, so I always feel excited when I get to it out running. I feel a connection to it.


These are some of the dorms at Augustana College, where Steve works.


Then I pass a train yard.


This bridge is called the Government Bridge (or something like that) and it goes to Arsenal Island, as well as over the Mississippi into Iowa, where I work. I was too chicken to take pictures of the outposts at the Arsenal because I didn't want to look suspicious.


The bridge is about a thousand years old. I've run across it before. The surface of it is a grate. You know that creepy feeling you get when you walk over a subway grate, like you can imagine plummeting down into the Morlock tunnels? I had that feeling the entire time I ran across it. It even seems to shake. And if you look down, you can actually see the river. It is terrifying.


Welcome to Iowa! Check out this skeevy pawn shop...


Located right near a really cool arts center.



That's my parking garage, and that clock tower is part of my building.

The view from the walkway to my office is really cool. You can see the Figge Art Museum...


And the River Music Experience building, which is also home of Mojo's, where you can get the finest chocolate chip cookies in all of downtown Davenport... provided you get there before they sell out.


And we made it! There's my desk!


Now, on other days, my commute is slightly different. The next day, I had a partner.


We pass Dr. Gyros, where Steve and I occasionally have prescriptions filled for deliciousness


And Whitey's Ice Cream. Mmm, Whitey's.


Jack is safely dropped off at school


and my drive continues. This is Rock Island High School, and I remember running track meets right here.


From there, I get on the Centennial Bridge, which is much prettier than the Government Bridge. I've run across this one, too, because it's cool to think I can hit two states on a run.


That day I took a different route home because I had a meeting. I was happy to get a shot of this building, The Stripping Solution. It's like the answer to the I'm A Single Mom And I Just Want To Make My Way Through College Problem.


Here's yet another bridge across the Mississippi. I'll run over it when I do the Quad Cities Marathon in September.


So, that's how I get to and from work. There's plenty to look at, and it's even nicer when it's not ass-cold out.

Motivation

There are a million things that motivate me to go running, from my love of homemade cookies, to the thrill of accomplishing a goal, to the excitement right before a race, to the health benefits, down to the smell of wet sidewalks on a rainy day. But for today’s Take It and Run Thursday, I’m going to talk about just one thing that motivates me. Okay, two.




I have the greatest cheerleaders in the world.

Steve and Jack have been incredibly supportive of my running. When Jack sees me put on my shoes, he understands what I’m about to do, and says, “Have a good run, Mommy.” If we’re in the car and pass a runner, he’ll say, “That lady is running, just like Mommy.” He will even run laps around the yard so that he can be a runner like me.

There are so many things that he does that make me proud. To think that I do something that makes him proud is just an amazing feeling. I love the fact that I’m setting a good example for him – setting goals, creating challenges for myself, and making exercise a priority. And there is nothing like coming home from a run and having him give me a high five and ask if I had a good run.

As for Steve, not once has he complained about my spending an entire Saturday morning on a training run. He understands why I spent $400 on running shoes last year and why our pantry is now cluttered with Gatorade and Gu. Every once in a while, Steve will point out that it’s been a while since I’ve downloaded any new songs and suggests that I get something new for my running mix. He supported me when, on vacation, I took the time to do a ten mile run. Steve will work into conversation with friends that I am training for a marathon, or that I just ran 18 miles, or that I just finished a really cool race – he’s like my publicist, bragging about my accomplishments so I don’t have to! Most importantly, not once has he ever echoed the little voices in my head that say, “You know, it’s kind of hot out today. Maybe instead of running you could sit inside and eat ice cream.”

One of the happiest moments of my life was when I saw the two of them half a mile away from the finish line of my first marathon. Steve was holding up Jack, and the two of them were cheering for me like crazy. It made it easy to give that final kick and finish the race strong, and with a smile on my face.

On a day when I don’t quite feel like going for a run, I will think of the two of them. I’ll think about how many times they’ve smiled and kissed me goodbye before I went out by myself. I’ll think about the signs that they made for me at the marathon. I’ll think about how they tell me I look pretty when I come home bathed in sweat.

It makes me want to show them my appreciation by moving forward, by not quitting, and by being the runner that makes the two of them proud. Better still, I know that my running has helped me immensely to better manage stress, keep my temper, and be a better wife and mother to the two of them. So, I put on my shoes and I go out for a run. For my guys.

Spirit of the Marathon

Yesterday was like an unofficial holiday for runners. Last night - and last night only - was the showing of Spirit of the Marathon in theaters.



Spirit is a documentary that follows six runners of varying abilities (from a Kenyan to bronze medalist Deena Castor to a guy trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon to first time runners to a guy in his 60s) through their training and the race.

I knew I was in for a good time when I parked my car and saw that I was surrounded by other cars with 26.2 stickers on them. The theater was packed with people wearing race t-shirts and running sneakers, making up a nearly sold-out crowd.

It was a really fun setting to be in, as the audience would geek out about interviews with Frank Shorter, Joan Benoit-Samuelson, and John Bingham. I was, of course, excited to see my girl Paula Radcliffe.

The stories were really compelling, and the whole thing was totally inspiring. I wanted to go out for a run right away (though the fact that it was after 10:00 and under 15 degrees below stopped me), and I have to admit that when I got home, I went on the internet to see if there's a way I can run two marathons this year instead of just one (looks like not).

Take It and Run Thursday – Basics of Running

Amy at Runner's Lounge has started the fun event called Take It and Run Thursday, in which blogging runners all post about a similar topic, put their heads together, and come up with brilliance. Cool, huh? The first topic is Basics of Running.

If I were to give just one piece of basic advice to aspiring runners, it would be this:

Don’t be intimidated.

So many of the fears I’ve heard from my friends who are starting running boil down to them being intimidated by their lack of experience. They don’t want to look or feel foolish. There is truly no need to be concerned. Runners are among the kindest, most supportive people I have ever met. Nobody is going to laugh at you for being slow, for asking dumb questions, or for not finishing first.

Let’s look at a few places where a novice runner might feel intimidated, and I can promise you, your fears are unfounded.

The very first thing you need when you start running is a good pair of shoes. The best place to go to get those shoes is a store that is dedicated to running. That is where you will be able to get the personalized attention and service you need to get the best pair of shoes for you. Does the idea of that scare you? It shouldn’t. Don’t be intimidated. The staff at those running stores are used to dealing with runners of all levels. And let me tell you, they will be so happy that you’ve chosen to spend your money at their store, and not at Dick’s, that they will give you fantastic service. Don’t be intimidated – go to a running store and get a great pair of shoes.

I know some people who have wanted to start running, but are afraid to leave the confines of the treadmill at the gym. They’re afraid that they’ll look pathetic out there on the street, chugging along too slowly. Don’t be intimidated. The other runners who see you think, “Hey there, fellow runner!” and are just happy to see a comrade. The people driving past you on the streets will either think, “Hey, good for her,” or “Man, I should really do that.” Not one single person will think poorly of you.

Once you start running on a regular basis, you’ll be tempted to enter a race. After all, free t-shirt! But maybe you’re afraid of how you’ll look. After all, what if you come in dead last? What if you’re way, way at the back of the pack? Again, don’t be intimidated. One of the things that makes running unique as a sport is that people can compete in different levels in perfect harmony. When I ran the Bix 7 last year, I finished with a time of 1:10:13. Wude Ayalew , the women’s winner, finished with a time of 36:57. Obviously, she is in a different league than I am, and yet, she and I ran the very same race. That’s like a person who enjoys shooting hoops in their driveway playing a game of basketball with Michael Jordan. Even better, an elite runner and I can both be challenged in a race like that, on our own levels. There’s room for success at any level – even for beginners – so long as you’re not intimidated.

To the Produce Aisle... And Beyond!

Because if you have a Buzz Lightyear costume, why wouldn't you wear it to the grocery store?

Toughness Points

The battle to earn Toughness Points is becoming more difficult. Last weekend, the weather was repeatedly described as "dangerously cold." Or, to put it another way, "Your tauntaun will freeze to death before you reach the first marker." So, no running for me this weekend.

Toughness Points Accrued: 0

Instead, I spent a good portion of the day on Sunday watching Charlotte's Web, also known as Piggy-Spider on the couch with Jack. We snuggled up, and it was delightful. Not so delightful was that I fell asleep with my neck in a very awkward position. I woke up yesterday morning with my neck completely screwed up. It is to the point where instead of turning my head, which hurts so much I feel like throwing up, I pivot from the waist like Batman.

It is very frustrating to know that I can do strong and athletic things, like run a marathon, but that falling asleep on the couch can utterly destroy me.

Toughness Points Accured: -2

So yesterday, I got home from work in a foul mood. Every single thing I did all day long was accompanied by the discomfort of the neck. My head seemed like too weighty of a burden for my poor neck to hold up. It just sucked all around. And it was snowing.

But I went running anyway.

Shoveling the snow and making my neck and shoulder go through that effort was out of the question. But I figured if it would hurt for me to simply walk upright, I might as well be uncomfortable and be running. And I was glad I did. At least I was able to concentrate on something else. At least I was able to enjoy my iPod and the feeling of the snow on my face.

Toughness Points Accrued: 2

It all balances out.

Hey, Hey, Paula

The Garmin has arrived, babies!

It has become increasingly obvious that it was silly for me to think I could live without it. There is just so much gadgety fun and number-based nerdiness to be had, you know? I have gone on two runs with the Garmin, and I feel fondly enough towards it that it seems silly to refer to it as The Garmin.

So, as of yesterday's run, it - nay, SHE - has been renamed Paula, after the kickass runner Ms. Paula Radcliffe.

Paula's got some bells and whistles I still need to figure out, but she's pretty easy to run with.

The thing that's not so easy with the running right now is that it is really catlicking cold outside right now. Yesterday it was 16 degrees out - without windchill - and my running outfit could best be described as Bank Robber. I wore:

Long sleeved tech-shirt
Sweatshirt
Windbreaker
Sexy reflective vest
Long underwear in tech fabric
Fleece UnderArmour pants
Usual running socks, though I DESPERATELY wish I could get a pair of running socks that are knee-high, preferably striped.
Hat
Survivor buff, worn around my face, covering me from my eyes down, and pulled up in the back to connect with my hat.

The buff got a bit wet from my breathing through it, and towards the end of the run, I yanked it down. By the time I got home, it had frozen.

This, my friends, is the kind of run that Amy at Runner's Lounge says builds your Tough Guy points. I love the fact that my iPod played "Fighter" as I got started.

Family Reunion

At Barnes & Noble today, we discovered two more Roaries in the children's section. Jack, of course, had Roary with him and immediately decided that they were Roary's MommyDaddy. Roary and his parents were delighted to see each other and spent a lot of time hugging, then crowding into my lap to hear stories. They had a lovely visit, then said goodbye so we could go home. Later, we had this conversation.

Roary (Jack speaking): I miss my MommyDaddy.
Me: I understand, Roary. But Jack needs you, and you are a very important part of this family.
Jack: Yeah, Roary. I need you.

As if Jack was not the one who brought up the subject of Roary missing his parents. Ah, the complicated emotional life of a boy and his stuffed tiger. Someone should write a comic strip about it.

Knees

Good news! My knee problem is nothing serious. I went to see my regular doctor, who spent about ten minutes looking at my knee and came up with the assesment of "Dunno," and referred me to a specialist.

The osteopath ordered x-rays and examined my knee. No damage to the bones or tendons, and the space between the bones was “perfect.” He diagnosed it as chondromalacia patellae, which is a pain under the kneecap. The underside of my kneecap is not as smooth as it would be in an uninjured one, and that is what is causing the discomfort. He gave me a “return to running after injury” program to follow and said that, given my level of fitness, I should start with week 3, rather than week 1. He also gave me a handout of weight training to incorporate into my workouts once I’m back up to speed. This will strengthen the muscles and hopefully prevent a recurrence.

I had my first "return to running" workout last night. I ran 15 minutes at a snail's pace (around 12 minute miles), and it felt really strange to be going so slowly, but hey, better that than hurting myself. After that, it was 20 minutes at a "medium" pace, which I had as 10 minute miles. I am happy to report that when I was done, I only felt mild discomfort in the knee, which was gone by the time I went to bed. Yay!

One of the most delightful aspects of my appointment was that the doctor kept referring to my excellent muscles and skeletal structure, my strong conditioning, and referring to me as a strong athlete. That was really flattering.

Creativity

Kids Jack's age are among the most creative, imaginitive people on Earth. Isn't it sad the way we systematically kill it by trying to tell them what's "right"? Two recent examples come to mind.

Jack and I were at Festival of Trees, enjoying the kids' craft area. Jack was making an ornament by stringing beads onto a pipe cleaner, which were then twisted into a circle. The sample the lady showed alternated red and green beads, but naturally Jack had no interest in doing that. He put the beads on however he felt like it, and I saw absolutely no reason to stop him. The craft lady commented that he was the first kid she'd seen who didn't follow the pattern.

I thought that was so sad.

Either Jack is the only kid out there who dared to do anything different or - more likely - the kids who did try to do something different had parents who told them they were doing it wrong or said, "Honey, wouldn't it look pretty if you did red-green-red-green?" And frankly, no, it would not look prettier. It would look like something that I could do, and that would bring me no joy when I saw it hanging on the tree.

Then, a few weeks ago, I took Jack to a paint-your-own pottery place. He selected a lizard figurine, and I got paints while he checked out the play area. The woman who gave me the paints told me that there were different widths of brushes, if I was interested. I laughed and said that wasn't really necessary - the kid making the lizard was only three years old and wasn't about to get fancy with different brush widths.

She smiled at me conspiratorially and said, "Oh, I know, it's hard. You want to let them be creative, but..."

But nothing. The lizard was certainly never supposed to be my artistic creation. If it were, for one thing, it would not have been a lizard. But second, what do I care if he paints it some weird way? The most important thing was for us to all have fun, with a second consideration being for Jack to create something that he was proud of. Him creating a showpiece lizard for me to display was never in the cards. Frankly, it was not at all hard to watch as Jack slapped random colors onto his lizard. Nor was it hard to allow him to name it "Stormtrooper The Lizard."

Jack has also been expressing this creativity a lot in the way he dresses. Yesterday, he decided to pretend to be Prince Charming. So, he added his Santa jacket and a khaki bucket hat to his regular clothes. As you do, apparently. Steve and I had to laugh over the fact that he was going for Prince Charming, but between the crazy getup and the black eye, he looked like a punched lunatic.

Today was even more awesome. I dressed Jack in an outfit that Steve's parents got him - Mickey Mouse t-shirt, with a matching hooded vest. Picture a hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off. Jack zipped the vest all the way up, then added my red headband, which he wore Olivia Newton-John style around his head. He looked like an extra from Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo. And it was awesome.

Jack's teachers, Miss Missy (unfortunate) was delighted with today's ensemble. As soon as Jack walked in and she spotted the headband she said, "Oh, what are you today? I can't wait to see!" The fact that she takes such obvious joy in the satorical decisions of a three-year old boy makes it clear to me that she is absolutely the right kind of teacher for Jack.

Even if he is a punched lunatic.

Betsy Lessons of the Week

During the many seasons I recapped The Apprentice, one of the most popular features of my articles was something I originally intended just to make fun of Donald Trump. Every week, he'd have some dumbass words of wisdom, which I dubbed the Trump Lesson of the Week. Usually, they were really obvious, like, "Crush the Competition." I would dutifully recount these, then would offer the Betsy Lesson of the Week. They'd be words of wisdom, such as to keep important tickets in your underwear drawer so you'd know where to find them when you were looking for them. My readers loved them.

My past couple of posts have gotten some nice comments (hello, lovely people), including a marriage proposal from Nancy. They also seem to be begging for Betsy Lessons of the Week, so here are a few for you all.

Reindeer Sandwiches: Cheryl asked how to make reindeer sandwiches. They could not be easier. You make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (or any kind of sandwich, on the theory that maybe your kid recognizes more than one kind of sandwich, unlike mine. Then, you cut it into triangles, which I think we all know is the way that sandwiches taste best. Arrange them on the plate so that the crust is at the top and the bottom points down. Stick two pretzel rods in the top for antlers. Make eyes and noses with raisins. If you're feeling fancy, use a teeny bit of honey to make the raisins stick. Extra Cool Mommy Points if you use a red M&M (the mini ones are best) to make one of the reindeer Rudolph.

The Dishes: The part of the house that gets the biggest, most challenging mess is definitely the kitchen. I mean, every other room, really, all you have to do is put stuff away, and that's not so hard. But the kitchen, you've got to actually clean things. And it's a neverending battle-fight (as Jack would say) because the dirty dishes just keep on coming. I have found that it is absolutely essential to stay on top of them. If there is a dishwasher full of clean dishes, that means that all of the dirty dishes stack up in the sink, which means that I can't really use the sink, and that when I do empty the dishwisher, I have to spend too much time filling it again, and I have to run it again right away, and... ACK! So, as soon as that bitch is full, I run it. And as soon as the cycle is done, it gets emptied. It makes a HUGE difference in my life.

It should be noted, by the way, that I can be really anal about certain things. This being one of them.

Broke Down

Jack is sporting one wicked black eye. We were at the play area at the mall and he conked heads with a little kid about half his age and a head shorter than he is. The other kid was unharmed; Jack now looks like the dog from The Little Rascals. I only wish the photo did justice to the completely badass shiner that the kid is now sporting. It is amazing. I think he realizes that it looks cool, because he is perfectly willing to laugh at the fact that he got beat up by a baby.

In other news...

- Jack voluntarily ate two green beans last night. We are in shock. I was pretty sure he would never eat anything green unless it had an M on it.

- It has been freakishly warm here. All of the pretty snow has melted, and I've gone running IN SHORTS for the past couple of days. Huzzah! But also weird. My man Al Gore is silently weeping over the whole thing, I'm sure.

- I broke down and went to the doctor about my lingering (since, oh, November) knee problem. Every time I go running, my right knee hurts for a day or so. The doctor spent about ten minutes looking at it and said, basically, "Got me. Go see a specialist," so that's what I'm doing tomorrow morning. Of course, after the knee got some attention, it didn't bother me nearly as much during last night's run. Wouldn't it be great if this problem just solved itself?

- We've had a good run together, but it looks like my Nike + is dying. The sensor battery is low, and my friend the Internet tells me that they can't be replaced - I'd have to buy a new kit. Um, is it bad that I am seeing this as an opportunity not to buy a new $30 sensor kit, but rather to spring for a Garmin? Yes, there's a teeny price difference between the two, but I am pretty sure the Garmin will even do my laundry for me. I can't wait to get it in the mail.

House Meme

I can't resist a good meme, and Daisy Boneshas one today. It's all about houses, you guys.

1. When you walk in your front door, which room do you enter?
There's a nice sized foyer at the front of the house. Turn left for the family room, right for the dining room.

2. Do you have a dishwasher?
Of course.

3. Is your living room carpeted or does it have hardwood floor?
There is a sort of oatmeal-colored carpet that covers the living room and most of the first floor. The kitchen is a very pretty Pergo, and the upstairs is all hardwoods.

4. Do you keep your kitchen knives on the counter or in a drawer?
We have a block of knives on the counter, plus a magnet holding more one the wall. Keeping knives in a drawer would be asking for trouble with Jack!

5. House, apartment, duplex or trailer?
House. Or, if you prefer, a Stately Manor.

6. How many bedrooms is it?
Four. Steve's and my room, Jack's room, a guest room, and the office. I am so glad to have a seperate office. In Previous Stately Wasser Manor, we had the office in the front room of the house, which afforded no privacy for Steve when he was writing.

7. Gas stove or electric?
Gas.

8. How big is the yard?
Big. I love it so much. Will love it even more when we build a deck.

9. What size TV is in the living room?
Freaking huge. It's 36" and weighs a million pounds.

10. Are your plates in the same cupboard as your cups?
No, we have a really fun mishmash of coffee mugs.

11. Is there a coffee maker sitting on your kitchen counter?
Of course there is. Otherwise I might die.

12. What color is your home painted?
White with black shutters. I would like to repaint the shutters green some day.

13. What room is your computer in?
The office. This is one of the few rooms that Steve and I painted. Three of the walls are a rich chocolate brown, with an accent wall in light blue. It is so pretty, you guys.

14. Are there pictures hanging in your living room?
Of course there are. We have some coffee-related pictures hanging over our lovely orange chenille couch. And the Family Wall is pretty much what you'd expect - a big grouping of pictures of our family.

15.) Are there any themes found in your home?
Our family room is decorated with movie posters - the original Star Wars trilogy, plus movie posters for Jack in his play area - Shrek, Toy Story, Cars, and Spider-Man. Jack's room has the dual themes of Elmo and Star Wars. We hung up a bunch of autographed Star Wars pictures in his room and it looks awesome. Oh, and the guest room is very beachy looking.

16. What kind of laundry detergent do you use?
Cheer, in a big-ass box from Sam's.

17. Do you use dryer sheets?
I don't, because I think they're unneccesary and not at all green. Plus bad for performance fabrics. But Steve uses them.

18. Do you have any curtains in your home?
Brown faux suede curtains in our bedroom, blue ones in Jack's room, and white ones in the guest room. I'd like to get something to add a shot of color to the dining room, maybe a rich orange.

19. What color is your fridge?
Stainless steel.

20. Is your house clean?
Yes, and will be even more so after the cleaning ladies come tomorrow.

21. What room is the most neglected?
The finished part of our basement. We don't use it for anything.

22. Are the dishes in your sink/dishwasher clean or dirty?
It is my mission in life to always have the dishwasher emptied. Too many dishes pile up, and it's chaotic, plus I then have to stop and empty, then fill the dishwasher before I can work in the kitchen. Things are now as they should be - no dishes in the sink, a few dirty dishes in the dishwasher.

23. How long have you lived in your home?
Since July 2, 2007.

24. Where did you live before?
Temporary Wasser Manor, aka my mom's house.

25. Do you have one of those fluffy toilet lid covers on your toilet?
Those gross me out.

26. Do you have a scale anywhere in your home?
Yes, in the closet in the guest room.

27. How many mirrors are in your house?
Three? One in each bathroom, plus a full-length mirror in the bedroom. We had tons of decorative mirrors in Previous Stately Wasser Manor.

28. Look up. What do you see?
Ceilings with that swirly texture to them.

29. Do you have a garage?
No way would I live in the midwest without a two-car garage.

30. Are you planning on moving anytime soon?
No, and possibly never again.

Hackin' Jack

These past few days at Stately Wasser Manor have been tough. Jack woke up at the hideous hour of 4:45 in the morning on Sunday coughing so hard that he was wheezing. It was really scary; Steve thought he might be choking and I thought it might be an asthma attack. Eventually, it calmed down, but at that point there was no getting Jack back to sleep. Steve took him downstairs and told me to take the first shift of sleeping.

It's not easy to fall right back asleep after something like that, but eventually I did. Unfortunately, I think I'd just hit REM sleep when Steve woke me up and asked me to take over. I stumbled downstairs, groggy and bleary-eyed. Jack was watching Dora, and I was even more confused. Dora put Boots in charge of a party and went off with... Swiper? Swiper was helping Dora travel around the world, even preventing different countries' versions of himself from swiping friendship bracelets? Huh? And how did Swiper learn the "Come on, vamonos" song? Several cups of coffee later, I verified that I was not halucinating, but it was a bit touch and go for a while there.

I took Jack to the doctor on Monday - a walk-in clinic at his doctor's office since it was New Year's Eve, so he didn't see his usual doctor. This guy's name was Dr. Schott, which is awesome. Really if your last name is Schott, you should either be a pediatrician or open a bar. Honestly, he should do both. Dr. Schott would be an awesome name for a bar.

I told Dr. Schott about Jack's cough, and Jack, who was pretending to be Spider-Man at the moment, showed the doctor a boo-boo and claimed that it was the bite of a radioactive spider. He told Jack that he'd soon be able to crawl walls... and told me that he had Croup. Jack's treatment for the spider bite, I assume, is to remember that with great power comes great responsibility. For the croup, he prescribed a sterroid to lessen the swelling of his throat.

I went to Target to fill the prescription/see if they had any cute new clothes. Feeling like quite the responsible mom, I asked the pharmacist if there were any side effects I should be aware of. She told me that it would probably make him "jittery." Lovely. Really, every three-year-old needs something to make him especially hyper.

And the stuff definitely makes him nutty. Later that night, he was bouncing off the walls, so determined to destroy something that I gave him a catalog and asked him to rip it up so that I could get just a little bit of work done in the kitchen. Then I blasted my Jack playlist on my iPod and made him dance to burn some of that energy off. Napping is out of the question, and it's hard for him to fall asleep at night, between the coughing and the drug-induced crazy.

The good news is that he slept very well last night - from 7:30 PM to 7:00 AM. And he's only on the meds until Friday. I hope my little guy's cough gets better soon... for all our sakes.