Saturday, August 28, 2010

As My World Turns

Okay kiddos, buckle in, because this is a Costco-size post.

See, I've been pretty neglectful of ye ole blog as of late - I'm working like a dog, trying to marathon train (how the heck did I ever find time to train for Ironman?!), and fit in all sorts of family events.

But I've been steadily photo documenting many of these events in the last few weeks, and since I don't when I'll post again, I figured I get all ambitious and whatnot and do it all in this one post.

So here goes....

While my nephew Brody hangs in Tennessee and we don't get to see him all that much, my brother keeps us in the loop thanks to camera phones -

Don't you just want to eat his little face up?!?!

(learning how to sit!)

MAWHA!!!! (that's kisses auntie M style)

Way back a few months ago, my sister Ellen decided that she wanted to see what all this running fuss was about, and signed up for a half-marathon in September. She asked me if I could help her train (YES!!!!). Halfway through, she decided she wanted to bump up the race to the late July Rock and Roll marathon her in Chicago. We kicked up training a bit, and when the race rolled around, she was ready to go.

Pasta dinner at my house - guess who was recently weened off the breastfeeding?

Lookin' all sessy with her pals.

Needless to say, I was super pumped. Ellen made it clear ahead of time that she was not going to let herself walk, no matter what happened. She didn't really set a time goal, and instead just wanted to complete the distance. AND SHE KILLED IT!! I ran with her the last couple of miles and was so proud to be by her side as she complete this race - right before she hit the last uphill, I got really teary and thought I was going to lose it, but managed to pull it together - it's kinda hard to run when you got the tears in your throat. I was just so happy for her, and for how she hung through all the training - heat, humidity, and two kids in a stoller - to cross that finish line.

It was a very proud day!

And then, on August 23, we were blessed by this precious little girl, Ford Francis.

Does someone have baby fever? Methinks so...

Proud aunt

Pucker up, buttercup!

I now am the proud aunt of three amazingly gorgous nephews and a niece!! I am finally comfortable enough to actually hold her without feeling like I will drop her. She is super tiny, and a total blend of her parents features. We all love her like mad!

Okay - if you know me on Facebook, you know we had a bit of a catastrophe here yesterday.

See, I had this school reunion tonight which I was really on the fence about. I couldn't decide if I wanted to go or not, so yesterday I thought, "Well, if I do go, I should probably try to get my hair cut." It's been a while, my bangs were in my eyes, and the length of it went down to my boobies.

So I went to my lady who has done a good job the last few times, and said, "Listen, nothing drastic, I just want you to trim two inches off the bottom, clean it up a bit."

The next thing I know, I was staring in the mirror at someone with shoulder-length hair.

Well, at least shoulder-length in the front.

Ignore my sour face in this - I know its hard but try to stay focused on the dead animal on my head. And let's remember that, two hours before, my hair fell down to my tatas.

And while it's all business in the front...

It's a party in the back!!

Oh hell yeah - I got me a Lady Mullet!

Can't really see it that well? Here's another -

I know - ridiculous right? Like, what the fuck is that? I mean, it's a like a solid 4-5 inch difference - who the hell cuts hair that way?!?!

I thought I was crazy, perhaps overreacting a bit, until Cheese came home and I made him look.

Eyes wide, mouth hung open, he finally stammers, "What happened to your hair?" (from the guy who has probably never once noticed a haircut of mine). "Why are there, like, levels? That doesn't even make sense."

Ya think?

And then he adds, "You know what that looks like? It looks like when that Sally kid from 'Mad Men' cut her hair in the last episode."

Really? Because "Sally" is 10, and took a Fiskers to her locks in the bathoom out of spite for her whore father, while I actually paid money to have this...this...butchering.

Personally, I thought it looked like I belonged on the hood of a car in a Whitesnake video-


And the worst part is that it barely fits into a ponytail so until it grows about a bit, I am forced to walk around looking like a cast-off from a Prince video.

Guess I'll have to wait until the next 20-year reunion to catch up with old classmates....

Saturday, August 7, 2010

How's Marathon Training Going, You Ask?

Well, maybe you didn't exactly ASK, but I've got a touch of the narcissism, so I'll tell ya anyway.

To summarize, I have my good days and I have my bad days. I am getting most of my runs in (as well as some biking), but some runs are excruciating, while some blissful. The dramatic inconsistency at this point is somewhat of a mystery, though.

For example - Two weeks ago, I had a 14-miler. Well, not so much a 14-miler as it was a 11-miler with a 3-mile death march at the end. In hindsight, I chalked it up to running four days in a row (which I never do), including a 7-mile speedworkout, a 5-miler and a 4-miler. So when I showed up for the 14-miler, it should have been no surprise that my legs were like, "Fuck you M. We out."

Then last week I have a 15-miler, and I could have run all day long. What's more, I came home, ran errands for my sister's pasta party, and then threw the actual party that night (she ran her first 1/2 marthon the next day - which I will detail on my next post....:). ANDDDDDD - I turned around the next day and ran the last handful of miles with her during the race.

I know, right?!?!?!

Before you ask, I'll answer - I have NO idea what's up with that, Willis.

But let's talk about that 15 miles, shall we?

For the most part, it was uneventful - oh, until the point when I realized my shorts slid down and I was running crack-out for god-knows how many miles.

Oh yeah.

Because of all the things runners want to see while running along the beautifully brilliantly blue-watered Chicago lakefront, M's ass crack surely ranks up there - according to Frommers, my crack ranks just higher the Chicago skyline at North Avenue Beach, but slightly lower than crew races in the Lincoln Park Lagoon.

I hear it's a quite a sight. Hard to tell when all I can see is an over-the-shoulder glance in the bathroom mirror.

So turns out, it was far hotter than it felt, and by the time I hit the turn-around at Buckingham Fountain, my shorts looked like I just went for a swim - they were dripping with sweat so bad, the dropletts were running down the back of my legs.

So I knew the outer parts of the shorts were a bit sagging, for sure, but it wasn't until I made it back to the North Avenue foot bridge that I reached back and discovered my...exposure. I spent the rest of the run (4 miles) yanking up the drawers to ensure my modesty (hey, I do have some...a little..okay none, but I could do without being arrested).

I blame it on the built-in undies. See, I wear those Nike shorts, and tend to flip the waisteband over itself because the shorts are a touch too big - thus sort of screwing with my perception of where the waistband is really laying on my body. I still felt the bloomer liners at the base of my butt cheeks, so I assumed things were all hanging tough, if you will.

Turns out things were definately hanging - but not quite so tough.

Too bad it took me until the last half-mile to realize I never tied the strings, which would have been an instant fix. Oh well. I was just grateful that I chose (for some odd reason) to run with a shirt that morning (and not just my sports bra, as I usually do in the extreme heat), so it helped stifle a could-be-major wardrobe malfuction.

So when I got back to the car, droopy drawers and all, I knew that I couldn't sit in the car as saturated as I was. I mean, my ride's not exactly p.i.m.p - yo - but even I have some standards.

So I searched the car and - Tah Dah!! This is what I came up with -



After assembling this get-up, I immediately called my husband and told him to erect our finest bedsheets over the window, defrost the squirrel from the freezer and pour his baby a glass of moonshine - hey, it you're going to be white trash, go big or go home, right?

Hee-Haw, ya'll!!

(obligatory self-portrait)

And then, 15 minutes later, I arrive home, and see this:

Is it weird to be sort of...proud? I mean, it's a sweat puddle, right? But I see a puddle of sweat in my yoga-mater-covered car seat, and I view it as a sign of my hard work. That's 15-miles of work pooling there in the driver's seat, no?

In hindsight, that might have been a little weird to take a picture of that.

What do you think, nephew Brody?

Hmmmm....methinks that's a look of judgment...from a guy who craps his own pants.

Let's check in with Cheese and nephew Aiden...thoughts? Am I weird?

Uh huh.

If I had a magic 8-ball, it would probably say, "All signs point to yes."

Oh well. Onward to the next run...