Yeah, I Said It

Since lately all my thoughts are experienced in short, ADD-bursts, this is how I will relay them to you:

Marriage
Moments when it’s not exactly helpful to tell your wife you love her? When she’s on her hands and knees cleaning your piss and turd splatters off the toilet bowl. On her day off.

You Know You are Old When…
Well, it finally happened – I am, in fact, too old and too educated to watch MTV. *disclaimer: doesn’t apply to Jersey Shore*

And in case you’re wondering (you’re not – that’s cool – my feelings aren’t hurt) – they DO still play music on MTV. They just run at 2am when all the actual age-appropriate teens are taking a break from hating their parents, dressing inappropriately, and popping their pimples by sleeping, or stumbling in from a pre-weekend bar crawl/Burrito King binge in College Town, USA, while vaguely wondering if they have a quiz in History 101 in the morning. Which begs the question – what exactly am I doing up at this hour?

Things I Could Literally Not Care Less About
1. Charlie Sheen. Seriously, if the guy wants to hole up in his mansion, screw hookers and smoke crack until his lungs collapse, then who are we to judge? I say let him have at it, and then maybe – fingers crossed – "Two and a Half Men" will finally just go away.

2.Moral musing by Justin Bieber.

3.That show – “Who Do You Think You Are?” – that takes celebrities and traces their ancestry, and they get all “wow!” and weepy and whatnot. Listen, I’m gonna be really frank here – who actually gives a fuck about self-centered, narcissistic, world-revolves-around-me individuals walking down the path of self-discovery but who in reality are so far removed and out-of-touch from their real selves? And I don’t think they could have picked bigger a-holes to profile. It’s like the producers stepped back, took a look at Hollywood proper, and said, “Hmm, who are the least tolerable and most self-absorbed people in this town? Let’s cast ‘em in a show that is ALL ABOUT THEMSELVES!” Bitches, please. You know what would be much more enjoyable? Anything. No, I really mean anything. Like, I would rather have my pedicure lady slice up my toes to pull out ingrown nails and mercilessly bring me to painful tears as she scrubs the bottoms of my feet off with a sandpaper rock than sit through this. There are far bigger problems in the world than Sarah Jessica Parker finding out she’s related to Salem witches.

4. What Lindsey Lohan’s going to do next. So could major news sources stop broadcasting stories about her court issues, lip injections, and drug rehab? Again, definately more important things going on in the world...

5. People using the image of Hitler for political protest purposes. And this goes for both political sides – i.e., those protesting things like Obamacare, and those more recently protesting Gov. Walker’s union bill in Madison. I mean, really people – Hitler is responsible for the deaths of literally millions of people. DEATH. MILLIONS. Call me overly-sensitive, but trying to pass a bill that takes issue with collective bargaining hardly seems like a fair comparison to a man who put people in gas chambers and ovens. I'm sure someone's going to try to make the arguement that Hitler also opposed unions, but guess what? In my job, I have to deal with union bullshit/power grabs and all the bureucratic inefficiancy that would make your head explode, and I've since developed a distaste for them as well - does that make me Hitler-like too? So how about this – how ‘bout the only person we compare to Hitler is Hitler himself? Or how ‘bout we save his image for when we want to storm state capitals to protest actual literal mass genocide? Think about. Get back to me.

6. Homeless drug addicts with good voices who abandon their 9 kids and wife. I don’t celebrate your bad life decisions just because you sound good doing voiceovers for Kraft Cheese and Macaroni.

7. Chicago Mayoral Race – because four blocks separates my apartment and having to make an impossible decision between many evils.

8. Oh, and the political endorsements/television ads that come with it. I mean really – are you going to vote for someone just because the Chicago Tribune tells you to? Do you really believe that when Rahm so earnestly looks into the camera and tells you that “city government is not an employment agency,” he’s really going to be looking out for the best interests of the city once he sinks into the overstuffed leather chair behind the Mayor’s desk? If you do, then give me a call – I’ve got some really lucrative investment opportunities for you.

For Anyone Who Has Ever Lost Faith

Why does it seem like I've been starting all these blog posts with, "Yeah, so it's been a while...?"

Oh - I guess it's because when I finally dust off my little corner of the blogoshpere, it usually HAS been a while.

In my last post, there were all sorts of little goodies - a new niece, cute nephews, good things happening all around.

And then, just a few days following that post, life dealt a blow that threw my family back into the reality of "Nothing is ever a given."

Most of you who read this are also on Facebook, so certainly I don't have to delve too much into the events. Suffice it to say that my husband's nephew "K" - his sister's son - was killed on a Thursday afternoon leaving school. He was hit by a car. He was 7.

As with most traumatic events, I remember every second of the initial news as it traveled from Kansas back to Chicago via a phone call from the hospital chaplain: the immediate uncertainty (at first all we were told was that there was an accident and "it's really bad"), the news of death moments later, and scramble to pack, the rush to get in the car, the swiftness in which we drove straight out of town.

In hindsight, it all took about 25 minutes, though the following 9 hours drive was likely the longest of my husband's life. We arrived at his sister's house at 330am, and didn't leave until the following Wednesday.

What happened in between those days were by far the most emotionally excruciating days of my life. I've experienced death - most notably when my dad died - but never like this, never so senselessly, and never so deep. The grief I saw and felt is still something I have not been able to put into words.

In the midst of all of this, I was still trying to train for a marathon. Even writing that right now - that I was even thinking of anything else during that timee- seems ridiculous. And honestly, I really wasn't thinking about the marathon.

But what did happen was that, while in Kansas during those days, I turned to running to get some relief - to take time away from the house, to zone out, to escape from the otherwise inability to stop crying every five minutes. I had a 19-miler on the schedule that weekend, and I knew that wasn't going to happen on roads I have often visited but never ran on. But I managed two 9-milers on the treadmill. Those were miles that I was able to literally stare at the wall, empty my mind and just sweat. I wasn't completely separated from the event though - I did have a moment when I just stopped and started crying unprovoked, and then there was the moment when I looked up at the t.v. and the news story of the accident and K's picture was staring back at me.

Almost immediately after we returned to Chicago, we returned to Kansas - this time for a wedding that was planned in far advance of the accident, but structured as a long weekend for family visiting.

Eventually, I managed to get in my long runs - two 18-milers and a 20-miler. And despite my sporadic training in the final few weeks, these long runs post-accident felt almost effortless. Well, as effortless as possible when you're running 20 miles.

Weird, right? Yeah, that's what I thought. What was the key ingredient? What was I doing right? What was my secret weapon?

In those final weeks, I started to believe that I had a little something "extra" now on my side.

So with that long-ass intro, let's fast-forward to my final race of an otherwise-successful season - the Chicago Marathon.


The Good
Let me save you the suspense.

I PR'd but a handful of minutes, but didn't hit my goal time. I trained for a 4:20, but put in a 4:31. Yikes.

Beyond that, I LOVED LOVED LOVED this experience - the city as seen through the eyes of a marathoner is like no other. I spent 34 years of my life on these streets, but yet with a number strapped to my waist, I fell in love with it all over again.

In the days leading up, people were freaking out over the weather. In the end, it was definitely warm, but I liked it. It didn't contribute to me not hitting my time.










The Bad
However, for the last few months, I have had an increasingly problematic pain in my abdomen – it could be a cyst, my husband thinks it’s a hernia. Who knows – but the longer the runs lately, the worse the pain (and yes, I do have a doctor's appointment, but it's not until November - spectacular).

I knew it would impact Sunday, but I didn’t know how. It seems to flare up after four miles, and hangs on for the duration.

For the first 13 miles, I struggled with some stiffness in my legs and hips, but by mile 13, my focus was on the exploding pain in my abdomen. About every 20 steps, it felt like a firework went off and radiated down my leg.

I was working hard to focus on the 1.5 million spectators that make this race what it is, and it did help for the first half, but by 14, I was in full blown distress. Although I was refusing to walk under any circumstance, I was fairly certain “it” would eventually burst, and wondered how they would get ahold of Cheese if I was found on the side of the road.

By the turn at 15, I started crying.

I knew I would never outright quit, but I just struggled to keep moving forward with the pain. Something, I felt, had to give.


The Faith
But then I had my first “sign.”

I ran past the police academy, over which hung a banner with the pictures of fallen police officers, and a statement that read, “These officers and over 500 other have died in the line of duty. They will be watching over you today to ensure your safe journey to the finish.”

And one of the men was a picture of my father’s close friend.

I ran right under the picture, and filled my head with images of him, my dad, and with my nephew K, who I had taken to “talking” with over the last few months and longer runs.

As I approached 16, I was having an outright conversation with K.

Pain started to dissipate.

And then – it happened.

In the split second my family came off the train at 17, I was running past them. One second later and they would have missed me. But in that miracle second, I heard Ellen scream my name and saw her wave that green noodle.







How did that happen? Literally one second later and we wouldn't have met up.

I took a second to pity myself from the pain, but then everyone started telling me how great I looked (lie) and how awesome I was doing (lie) and even though I knew it probably wasn’t true, I made myself believe it. And I loved them for every second they traveled on those trains to find me in the midst of a sea of runners and spectators. I loved them for standing in the heat, for screaming like mad, and for being so proud of me in the moments when I was so very not proud of myself.

I said my goodbyes, took a step, and took note immediately.

The pain was gone.

Steps later I saw my best friend Anne-Marie – she too grabbed her 1-year-old and traveled across the city on the crazy trains and in the heat to see me – even though it was only for a few seconds. I stopped hugged her, kissed her son, high fived her husband and her say, “I am so proud of you.” And that was all I needed.

I was off. Pain still minimized.

And let me pause here to say how awesome my support crew is - my husband puts up with this lunacy (even though I know he must cringe everytime I say, "I really want to sign up for..."), my sister who lugged around a 7-week old child on her chest for six hours on a Sunday morning just to cheer me on, and my other sister who gave me a massive bag of candy (gone two days later) and trekked around in the heat waving a big green noodle for me to see from blocks away. I also received a number of awesome notes, emails and texts from friends and family in the day leading up to the race that really were awesome.

Getting back to the race - I don’t know really what happened, but from 17 through 26, I was a new person. I ran steady, and with purpose. I knew I was never going to actually quit, but I just didn’t know how I was going to do it through the pain. But I did.

Miles 18-20, I again spent time talking to K, thanking him for watching over me, for keeping me safe and for keeping me moving towards the finish. I kept hearing his voice in my head, “You crazy girl.” I eventually started to repeat it over and over, like a mantra.

By Chinatown, I actually felt pretty okay. I knew my legs were a little tired, but I also knew my family was around the corner at 23. And they were – again, we found each other within seconds of them getting to the spot. Just a few steps sooner or later and we would have missed each other.

Someone was watching out for me.

I stopped again to talk with them(I don’t know why I did this twice – I never do this in races so I guess I must have just needed it this time), and then took off – and I felt like I was flying. I am sure my times don’t reflect that, but I felt it, and that’s what matter.










I rounded the corner to head up Michigan – that last 2 mile straightaway – and I felt like I had wings. I sung out loud, waved to people calling my name, and just kept running. I knew where the mile signs were, and just keep pushing forward.

The further north I got, the more crazy the spectators got – I don’t ever remember them being so numerous and loud! I slapped high-fives, and continued to sing. And once I hit the “1 Mile Left” sign, I said what I’ve been saying at the 1-mile marker for every long run for the last two months-

“Okay K – time to take me home.”

And home we went.













Now, I've finished a lot of races in the years I've been doing these sports. I've finished ugly, I've finished destroyed, I've finished balls out, literally covered in my own blood, sweat and tears.

But in all these years, I've never finished as strong as I finished those 26.2 miles - especially after feeling like my insides were exploding halfway through.

What happened? Good nutrition? Good weather? Increased squats?

A miracle?



I don't go to church, I don't follow a specific religion, and I've even lost a little faith since K's death because honestly, it feels like a punishment from a Power I can't control and I can't rationalize.

But I do believe that we are watched over, I do believe that K was with me Sunday, and I do believe that he is with his family all the time. I don't have science to explain this belief, but that's what makes it a belief - I just, quite simply, believe it.

And yes, K probably has a fuller agenda of things to do in Heaven other than watch his lunatic aunt run a race. But maybe he needed to be amused that day, and maybe he thought I might need help. Maybe he knows that his uncle silently grieves for him with every breath he takes, and he thought he could use some celebration.

I don't know the answer. Maybe you all think I am a lunatic at this point, and want to just chalk up my good race to strong training -whatever.

But when someone leaves your life suddenly and violently, you want to hold onto them. With K, my grip on him has been strongest when I often feel strongest - when I run.

I chose to remember him in this way.

I chose to take him with me.

And I chose to have faith.

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 -


Yoga-mat-turned-seat-cover.

Sa-weet.

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...

If You Hang In There, It Actually Gets Sort of Hopeful Towards The End - I Promise

Wow.

So yeah, it's been a while.

Remember the good old days of once-a-day posting?

I do.

Man, that was a lot of work.

And it's not that I haven't had a lot to say - believe me you, I have.

I just didn't have a ton of time of get it on paper.

Until now.

Why?

Well, here's the short list of reasons my time suddenly freed up:

1. Unemployment. Turns out, it's not just for car dealerships.

See, as you know, we have a new governor. A governor who, in his infinate wisdom, decided to play Political Chicken with the legislature to get his way. He wants an increase in state income tax to help deal with out deficit (where have I heard this before....?) The legislature, however, is not so cool with this. So our governor said, "Do what I want or deal with the consequence on July 1."

The consequence? A mandatory shut down of social services with the elimination of all contracted services (i.e. me).

Literally. This is quite literally how things went down.

Who does that? Who gets their poltical agenda accomplished by eliminating all contract services across the state? Who gambles with child welfare like that?

Oh right - all governors of this state. In fact, right before the previous gem was impeached, he did the same thing. I mean, my employment woes are becoming a broken record at this point.

And the best part is that this new guy turns around and pins it on the legislature and blames them for this - the whole "well you MADE me do it" argument.

It goes a little something like this:

"Give me what I want, I have no interest in comprimise - or else I will eliminate 50% of the child welfare (and every other service) workforce until you cry 'uncle'....Oh, and p.s. I just proposed a 400% increase in health care costs for state employees. Just try and test me if that doesn't get pushed through too."

Is this really where we are at politically?

And why is it that social services are always the bargining chip?

So this means that July 1st may be likely be the last day of my employment.

But I am oddly okay with this. Maybe because, with all the previous false alarms, I have made peace with the fact I would lose my job to some poltical bullshit.

Or maybe because I have been really burned out in this job and looking for a change. I have never been one to run from a problem, but the state government is a bit larger than just "a problem" and I simply think they have worn me down.

So this is now my kick in the pants to find another....something.

However, the chance of me finding a position in this State and in the area of child welfare is - lemme check real quick - ZILCH.

Which leads me to....

2. There may be some relocation associated with seeking a new job. It's been discussed. Options are on the table. Options as in - NOT CHICAGO.

I am sort of excited about this.

And the third reason my load is soon to be lightened?

3. Hitting the Pavement - In 24 hours, I will be in Madison with my relay team, starting at the starting end of the Madison-Chicago 200 relay.

After my awesome experience last year, I decided to head-up the team this year.

Turns out, though, that event planning is not so much...how do you say?...my strong point (see also: my wedding). I think it has something to do with my ever-dwindling capacity for bullshit and unreliable people, inability to make a decision, and generally poor multitasking skills. My sister ended up taking the reins and pulling it together. But the general stress of responsibility of it will be over soon.

Oh, and speaking of that wedding thingy?

It's moving forward, but deserves it's own post.

Which will be written after the relay.

So until then....

Home

So Cheese brought it to my attention that I neglected to report I would also be running a half-marathon during my Nashville trip this past weekend.

Not sure why I forgot, but I did.

And I ran it.

Turns out Nashville got itself some hills, and I missed that memo.

Also turns out that trying to run 13.1 very torturous hilly miles in 90 degree heat after coming from 8 months of 30 or lower temps here in flat, flat Chicago is just a bit harder then anticipated.

It wasn't the going up part of the hills that beat my ass - I am actually pretty good at that part, technique-wise.

It was the going down part that crippled my quads by Mile 11 (up to which point I was running a PR, despite the conditions).

After Mile 11 and 12, I watched my PR be wiped out by four minutes. But in the end, I finished, and I am proud of that.

I also ended up in the medical tent right after I finished (first time ever in a race for me!). It was super scary at the time, but I'm fine now - well, still quad-cripped two days later, but mostly fine.

I didn't see Dane from the Biggest Loser - I checked the results, and there is a guy with his same name but a different age, so I can't tell if it's actually him. But the guy that's listed finished in just under 6 hours, I believe.

And given that it was the second hardest race I ever ran (second only to my Ironman), kudos to whoever that man was for finishing, Biggest Loser or not. Dang, that was a brutal day!

The most exciting part of the weekend was hanging out with my brother and his wife. I can't even really articulate how much fun I had just visiting and hanging out, and how generous they were to open their home to me. I wish I could have stayed all week! I keep having these fantasies about moving down there, living on my little farm, slowing down my pace of life - just simplifying everything.

It also smells so good down there - all Spring-like, and flowery, and not-Chicago.

Sigh. I do like the South.

And I am swamped with work right so I gotta run.

My Backlog

Okay, so I obviously haven't been around lately, and I have a whole post 'splaining why, but before I go there (it might not go up until after BL tomorrow), I thought I would post my woefully large backlog of photos of events in the last few weeks.

Last weekend, Chicago saw it's share of Bloggerland, starting with a brief visits from A from Running Down a Dream, and her lovely husband J. Cheese and I had dinner, drinks and story time with them - although we had to drag them through one of the coldest night yet here!

And then Sunday night brought with it a visit from B, all the way from Canada!! Captian Cactus (Brian) was in for a work convention, and we had dinner Sunday night with him. Then, as a bonus, we got to hang with him Tuesday - for BL!! At our house!!! His wife A sent with him a bottle of wine and a MASSIVE bag of cookies (rumor has it there were 60 cookies in the bag when it got off the plane - the picture below shows the damage Cheese and I did to it by Tuesday night - yeah, there's about 12 cookies left there).

Needless to say, the diet has started.

It was quite a weekend - so much fun and just hanging out!

Fast forward to this weekend - about 1400 miles away, Momo was celebrating her birthday with her own personalized 40K! Happy Birthday to Momo, and I can't wait to read all about the fun!

Back here on the home turf, I had my own little party to attend - The Nugget's 2nd birthday!!! Last year I missed his party because I was in Miami running a half marathon, so this year I got to participate in all the festivities.

Anyone else ever have been to a party with like ten toddlers all at once? I learned lots of stuff - like how germs spread so quickly, what a Brain Toy is, how loud a four year old can scream, and how Cheese and I will single-handedly save the economy through Trojan condom purchases.

Shit's intense, man.

Nugget seemed confused at first, but that wore off as soon as he started to dig through his pile or presents. He was a natural!

Take a close look - and guess which one Aunt Megan wrapped.

If you said "The tee-ball set in the Target bag" you would have been correct!

I guess when Nugget opened this present (of the green and white shirt he is holding), he screamed, "So cuuuuuttteeee!!!!" And it looked AMAZING with his new clutch and Jimmy Choos.

Yeah, he spends a lot of time with my sister.

But of course, his best toy of the night (not my tee-ball set) was Tow-Mater, from The Cars movie. It sings and moves its eyes, and he luuuuuvvvs it.

And what party is complete without a Bob Builder cake? So delish, but I was good and limited myself to one tiny piece. Boy, my sister can throw a party!!!

I rounded out the night with a girl's night at my friend Rachel's house, where Rachel and I kicked ass at Pictionary - I have pictures but I don't have persmission to post them, so when I do, I will share.

And then of course the Superbowl, which was also held at Ellen's (two parties in a row!) and I wasn't so much intersted in the game as I was playing with Nugget and eating delishish foods.

Phew - okay, that was a lot for me to catch up on. I need to go to work now!

Whoa and Races

I woke up this morning to a temperature of -10.

As, like here is zero *holds hand level with face* and here we are, ten degrees below that *holds hand around waist.*

The wind chill is -30.

We live in an old apartment building (old ones which are pretty much all there is here in E-town) and we have radiator heat, which usually doubles as our own pesonal sauna.

But not this morning.

The depth of the cold is permeating the windows and walls.

I am sitting here in wrapped in a fleece blanket and contemplating what sort of sweet, sweet love I will have to talk to my car to get her to start this morning.

And for as bitter it is outside, I always get this really weird morbid curiosity/pleasure when we set these cold record lows.

I mean, maybe people in North Dakota or you Canadian folk have seen worse, but a temp of -10 is like, really cool to me.

Makes me feel like I am in the scene from Day After Tomorrow, where they are sitting in the freezing library in New York.

On a completely seperate note, I started planning the race season last night. I have to be honest, I have no real goal for this season. I really just want to have fun, stay pretty local (I have to be all fiscally-responsible like, what with this wedding and all) and use races as ways to meet up and see people. I don't want to have to committ to too many things that are really big because I know I just won't really have time or funds.

Right now I am signed up for Steelhead 70.3, and I am eyeing the Pleasent Praire Olympic distance in August and maybe Danskin in WI for a little speed racing. I have three 1/2 marathons in March, April and May. A friend, Mark, mentioned TriShark in Illinois, but the dates might not work (but checking it out).

What are you all doing? Anything in the Indiana/Michigan/Illinois/Wisconsin area? Triathlon or running?

The Christmas Tree is Still Up

Here are two to suck on for the weekend...

1. Cheese presented me with the following question: Would you rather be able to eat anything and everything you ever wanted without any negative side effects (i.e. feeling full, getting fat) and have to give up sex, or continue eating like a regular person (i.e. feel full, have to manage weight) and get to keep having sex?

So basically, would you give up sex for the ability to food binge without consequence for the rest of your life?

How would you answer?

Leave it in the "Comments," and I'll let you know how we both answered on Monday. You might be surprised...



2. I witnessed two icky thing this holiday season. Well, probably more then two, but these two really stuck out, particularly because kids were involved (and don't worry - no yucky stories from the battle front of child welfare).

First, while Cheese and I were standing in front of the Christmas trees at Wal-Mart a couple weeks back, a woman and her 7-year-old daughter walked up and asked us how to buy one. Why she thought we worked there, I have no idea.

Anyway, we told her that you have to pay inside, and then take your tree.

She said, "Well, is there anyone out here to watch which tree you take?"

We said no.

And then she says, in front of her daughter, "What if you take the tree without paying for it?"

Cheese said, "Well, then, that's on you."

Yes, she was asking if she could steal her Christmas tree, right in front of her daughter.

What would Santa say, I wonder?

The second incident occurred in Midway Airport on my way to Houston on Tuesday night.

I fly Southwest almost exclusively, and if anyone else does, you know that when they board, you are assigned a number and line up IN NUMERICAL ORDER. I have to believe that they did this to eliminate the bum-rush and throw-downs that usually occurrs when trying to board.

This way, you get your boarding number based on when you check in.

Well, this particular flight, I checked in late and got C-43. That's REALLY high. I mean, I was almost last to get on.

ALMOST.

Because behind me, there was a woman and her three children, all holding C-55 through C-58 numbers. Meaning, they board after me.

And another lady, C-59.

Yet, all these bitches were standing IN FRONT of me.

Now, either they don't know how to count, or they were jumping line.

As if their time and overhead bin space was way more important then anyone elses.

Another properly-ordered woman said something about being in numerical order (because apparently the sissy Southwest person was too worn out by the holidays to give a shit), and the cheater lady with the kids almost gave her a real-life beat down, right there in the ramp.

I am so not kidding.

So not only did this woman cheat in front of her kids (one of whom actually tried to point out to her cheating/lying mother that they were not in order), but then she had the fucking nerve to hairy-eyeball the woman who called her out.

If I had any nerve (which I don't because I blog about it now instead of act on it then), I would have said something. But for fear of getting choked out in front of small children, I bit by tongue.

Now, I realize that in the grand scheme of life, people jumping line isn't really that big or bad.

But here's my beef:

You are teaching your children that it's okay to cheat. That it's okay to lie. You are teaching them that's it's okay to step on other people to get your way.

In the grand scheme of things, line-jumping in the Southwest terminal is (like Cheese so eloquently put it) an unraveling of the moral fiber, the basic human values, the common curtosy and rules of life that I believe most of us live by.

Stealing Christmas trees and cheating your way onto an airplane? Really, are either of them REALLY worth it?

Is the $20 buck for the tree, or the extra 30-second wait to get on the plane more important then the real-life lesson you are teaching your children, who are watching your every move in those moments?

Really?

Needed Intervention

Common Sense called.

It said, "Stop shopping - you filled your Christmas list weeks ago, and you don't need any more tee-shirts/shoes/jeans for yourself."

I said, "What do you know? Mind your own business and go bother some poor soul giving a beat-down to an eldery to get at that last Wii for their spoiled child. Trust it, there's a Wal-Mart somewhere in far more desperate need of your assistance right now."

Common Sense replied, "So that's how it is, huh? Not gonna listen? I got somethin' for you."

At at 8am, there was a knock on my door.

I opened it to find Mother Nature standing there.

And before I could invite her old ass in for a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee, She silenced me with her -3 degrees temperature/-30 windchill breath.

And through the death chill, I faintly heard the words, "Shop this, bitch."

'Nough said.

Pass the hot chocalate and the remote.

It's wet, mushy, and slushy here today.

And my main man just left for stint in Houston.

Figures - home and on the couch for a month, then shipped off to TX days before Christmas.

Well,, at least they'll send him home to Kansas for the big day.

And in the meantime, I have the house to myself.

What to do....?

Random Picture

Forgot to mention that we went the Bears game last Thursday. Yeah, it was stupid cold. And of course, game went into overtime. Just my luck. I almost threw up my peanuts and hot pretzel when that happened. I guess it wouldn't have been so bad had my feet not been standing on iced over concrete for four hours...in running shoes.

Just how cold was it? When we left at 11pm, it was 22 degrees, with a 9 degree windchill. Not too horrible if the game lasted ten minutes, but no - it went every bit of 4 HOURS.

But, considering the 6 degree day we have here today, it was like Spring. So I guess I need to STFU.

Or move.

It's a Start

Yeah, yeah - so it's been a week - but honestly, I didn't really have a ton to talk about. My life has become, well, boring.

Well, ecept for the discovery that Cheese cries at movies. That was pretty cool.

But otherwise, it's been a pretty slow news week over here.

So here are the start of some holiday pictures (the actual Thanksgiving ones will have to wait because I need to get them from my sister). We kicked it off here in Chicago last weekend with the Lights parade downtown. It's this huge parade where they do the official lighting of Michigan Avenue (Magnificant Mile). It was stupid cold, and I pissed and moaned all day about not going, but Cheese was insistant that we do something different that night, so I lost.

Popsicle Megan in her bank-robbing hat.

Corner of Wacker and Wabash. right along the Chicago river.

After the parade, there was a fireworks show. Chicago LOVES their fireworks.

Cheese and I after discovering that it cost $27 to park for two hours.

It's the Turkey Trot bitches!!! In our annual traditional, Devin and I headed down to the Lincoln Park Turkey Trot. This was BY FAR the warmest day we have had down there (I think last year it was about 25 degrees). We ended up running it bandit, though. See, even though we made it plenty of time to register, they has already run out chips and tee-shirts. So basically, we would have been paying money to run five miles on the same public running path we use every week. And while I do not usually support banditing, I justified it by not taking any water or food at the end - I figured I didn't pay for it, so I can't eat it. Besides that, it was just like running on my regular route.

/

But let me say this - this is the 31st year they have run this event, and EVERY YEAR its the same thing with the ass long lines and the running out of shit. Whoever organizes this race better get their heads out of their asses, or we are going to start hightailing it over the Edison Park Trot from here on out.

Devin's action shot - She blazed it in something like 39 minutes. Me? I was a bit slower, turning in my slowest Trot time ever at 44:09. I don't know what happened, but I was pretty zapped after Mile 2, and just praying to get it over.

/

Hey, see that girl in front of Devin, the one with the black tights on under the shorts? We saw a lot of this - girls with shorts over their tights. Why do they do this? Is it becuase they think they're ass looks big in tights? Because who cares, you know? And moreover, the girls that were doing it were all these really skinny girls - I mean, look at the girl in the picture - Devin weighs about NOTHING, and that girl is about her size, if not smaller.

/

I think this is weird.

/

For the record.

Post race. Turkey Trot 2008 in the books, if not officially.

Our lone spectator, Cheese. He stood out there in the cold to take pictures. What a sweetie!

I was oddly sick for the rest of the day. It was weird. But it didn't stop me from eating three pieces of cake and three large frosted brownies. But more on that later....