8 Random Things #6

Today, the day we "fall back" every year, is my absolute favorite day of the year. In fact, I would petition to declare it a holiday if I could keep the retailers out of it. I can only imagine the catchy t-shirts Target would come up with to sell us at bargin prices while they are clearing out their Halloween stock and stuffing Christmas in our face. I think I'll check CafePress for their selection. The last time I needed a recipe using ricotta cheese Google offered CafePress on the sidebar and you should see the selection of t's they have for those who love ricotta.

Currently reading : Songs Without Words By Ann Packer Release date: 04 September, 2007

Goodbye Virginia-Hello Kentucky

Hello Kentucky!

Unless you are using the Berkeley Lab Excercise Log to keep track of your physical efforts in an attempt to make a virtual path across the United States you probably will not appreciate my elation at getting the hell out of Virginia. After forcing my body to move 582 miles I have escaped the daily grind of the letters VA. I thought I would never get to Kentucky and now that I have succeeded I'm anxious to get out of Kentucky too.

I'm like that, complete a goal, move on to the next. I rarely bask in the sunshine of my accomplishments before thinking I ought to do more or something different, taking a bonified break does not usually exist in my world. Lately though I've been a little stuck because I didn't complete a goal and that has never happened to me before (Not that I can remember anyway, I've been trained to succeed and never let them see me sweat).

My marathon is still like a bad birth experience, I think about it, talk about it to some people, but to put it into words is still a little too much. On the drive home from Ohio I thought about titles for a post for my experience but none of them quite captured my disappointment, anguish, or acceptance of my not-quite-failure.


I got myself to the starting line after months of tedious training. I was carbo loaded (cheesecake loaded too), hydrated and made enough trips to the Port-o-Potty. I was ready. I had tears in my eyes as the helicopters flew over. I was in motion when the horn sounded. I gave Abby a thumbs up as we separated to find our own paces. I found my pace guy carrying a big stick with 3:40 written on it and balloons thumping against the designated time. Then I didn't finish the race.

Unfortunately, somewhere early my legs didn't care about the months of preparation for this event, they were done or nearly so. I fought the urge to sit down and walked a bit instead. I did follow the marathoners on their route instead of splitting with the 1/2er's, convinced I would work it through. When we rejoined the 1/2er's I knew I would soon be forced into a very major decision. Major for me that is, to have to debate quitting a race has never happened to me, even after injury I have continued on to the finish line. It must have been something about four kids and a husband at home. I looked at that two different ways: disappoint them by not finishing or disappoint them by trying to finish and possibly not making it home to them. I finished with the 1/2er's in a very respectable time, but tears of agony and frustration were in my eyes. I knew I had to drop out of the full marathon when I realized that the only reason I would be attempting to finish it would be for other people, some of whom I shouldn't even care about.

I quit for me.

And since that day I have kept in my mind the words an older woman I walked with during the race said to me: "It must not be your day." She just saw this race as another day checked off the calender, something her and her husband do every year. She knew in the big scheme of things that this one day, this one moment, this one race, would not determine a lifetime, it would determine today. It was about doing what I could on that particular day, under those circumstances and then going from that day and accepting my limitations.

I have changed my view to see it as my glass being half full. I started that day with an empty glass and filled it with 14 (horrible) miles, but I did start to fill it. Nobody who started that race had a cup full of miles that they were emptying at every mile marker, they were collecting miles as they ran. And I must admit part of the whole weekend, the whole plan, was to spend time with my friend preparing, running and then resting from our event. So really, if I think of all the fun we had, all the great food we ate and the two bizarre movies we watched, my glass really was full as I headed home. It wasn't just about the race, it was about living life.

I'll fill my cup again next year, with either the 1/2 marathon or the full marathon but you can bet I'll be back Columbus! (Then maybe you can include me in your race results and I'll get official photos because I won't be ruining your statistics by not finishing...)

Currently reading : Eye Contact By Cammie McGovern Release date: 13 March, 2007

Is It Possible to Ruin Guacamole?

Is it possible to ruin guacamole?

Yeah, I know the average guacamole making individual can ruin the stuff, but it doesn't it seem right that store-bought guacamole could be hideous, both in taste and visual appeal.

Back way too many months ago my favorite Mega-Buy Everything Here-Store started to remodel. At first it was tolerable, things were still where I expected them to be and they weren't handing out maps(!) at the door. By the time the Greeters appeared with maps it didn't matter anymore, everything was wrong, wrong, wrong. Weekly, I entered That Mega Store disguntled before I even began my shopping. The Greeter would try to disarm my attitude by giving me the crooked greeter smile and thrusting the damn map at me. I knew better! Sure, I could get a map, but I was aware that as I pushed my germ-laden cart through the disassembled aisles the items on the map were moving from one location to the next. I even helped move a few canisters of peanuts for the nut moving crew. But ha! The next time I was in the store the nuts had moved once again.

I finally had enough of the chaos and I'm sure my friends, family, and That Mega Store employees had enough of listening to my shopping woes every week.

Determined to show That Mega Store I didn't need their discombobulation in my life I decided to make a leap and shop at "Save Money. Buy Cheap Shit." Unfortunately for them I figured out their system in the produce department. They were not fooling me. Bananas, the staple of my life, were more expensive than That Mega Store, but because I was already there I was supposed to buy them anyway. They figured I would reason along the line of: "With all the money I would save throughout the store I was sure to be richer in the end". In fact, according to the advertising promotion put out by "Save Money. Buy Cheap Shit." if I shop there for a year I will save so much I will be able to go on vacation!

See, this is all Shopper's Psychology, I think it is now an actual major available at four-year universities. My purchases are tracked and banked with everyone else's, then the dirty work of looking for trends come into play and soon after the remodeling starts. Then the store raises the prices on the items people will NOT leave the store without because they have to have them, hence more expensive bananas and milk. Oh, "Save Money. Buy Cheap Shit.", had less expensive coffee IF you were purchasing the one that tastes like water after you let it percolate for half a day. I like my coffee robust-the kind that puts hair on my chest because my steroid injections don't seem to be doing the job. I need a big kick in the morning, it helps me get the shorties out the door in a timely manner.

My intent was to enter "Save Money. Buy Cheap Shit." with a positive outlook, with their new savvy motto how could I go wrong? I skipped on the over-priced bananas (they weren't even organic at that price!), loaded what should have been the whole cow in my cart (regular milk at that price?!) and went hunting for the guacamole. Surprise, surprise, they didn't have my regular brand. In fact, what I discovered in general as I perused the store was a mix of "normal" brands intersperesed with cheaper and yes, cheap, imitations. You could "Save Money" if you bought the "Cheap Shit" but who wants a Lofthouse Cookie that "really" isn't a Lofthouse Cookie for 11 less cents.

The guacamole cinched it. There would be no return to "Save Money. Buy Cheap Shit." for me! They had two brands of guacamole, one that only offered a non-spiced version and another that had a spiced and regular choice. And can you believe that I could get twice the amount of my regular brand for the same price? I was sucked in, I grabbed the spicy version, paid for my loot, got the hell out and went home to eat my guacamole.

I never knew you could add WATER to guacamole. It sure does make the avocado go a lot further. So much further, in fact, that you can sell me twice as much guacamole as the next guy. I'm glad I didn't "Save Money" by buying cheap coffee or I would have had water with my water and how swell would that have been? I guess it would be one way to hydrate for the marathon.

I crawled back to That Mega Store today where they over-charged me for the cat food.

Currently reading : Peace Like a River By Leif Enger Release date: 20 August, 2002

Marathon Runners Are Not Stupid

I almost blogged on Sunday to tell the world it was a done deal, I was going full steam ahead with running the Columbus Marathon and short of a natural disaster or death I would be crawling across that finish line on October 21st. I'm glad I didn't because I don't like to tempt fate. Chad Schieber of Midland, Michigan died in his first marathon race in Chicago on Sunday. After hearing brief accounts on the news I Googled the story and got the details.

Unfortunately, I also came across plenty of on-line "discussion" regarding the stupidity of marathon runners and the rhetorical "Was it worth it?". No, marathon runners are not stupid. We are actually quite intelligent, planning our training months in advance, adjusting it as needed, carbo loading the three days prior to racing, and tapering so that we are begging to run 26.2 miles on race day. Most people do not register for a marathon on a whim. Sure, some people do is as a first-time "attempt" and may not train properly, but that doesn't kill a runner, it just makes him/her drop out of the race. This usually happens when you hit "the wall", when you feel as though you can't take another step and that the race is over for you. Hitting "the wall" feels like death is upon you and that if you stop running you will never get moving again. The only thing you can think about is stopping and crying. Yeah, crying. Marathons are very emotional events in which you experience a multitude of emotions with the intention of feeling elation and pride as you cross the finish line. Chad Schieber may have felt he was simply hitting "the wall" and was trying to run through it.


So, was it worth it to set a goal and work methodically towards it for months?

Was it worth planning your weekends around your long runs and passing up the cocktails so you could do the Sunday LSD with your water bottle and stopwatch sans dehydration and headache?

Was it worth the chaffing welts and torn mucles?

The blisters and damaged toenails?

The sheer volume of discarded running shoes missing their soles?

Was it worth finding your soul in the name of running?

Yes.

Now I don't believe for a minute that if Chad Schieber knew he was going to die that he would have started that race. There is no denying the tradgey in this event, but bear in mind that he was living his life, he was reaching for the golden ring.

Consequently, people that know I'm planning to run Columbus in less than two weeks called with their concerns. One friend even offered to help Vinnie with the kids should I not return. The person that offered this did so because she knows I would rather crawl across the finish line than admit defeat. It is not that I am stupid and don't know my limitations (yeah, don't even waste your time commenting on this statement), it is that I have trained long, and hard, and relentlessly for this one day. Hopefully for less than four hours. It will cost ME financially $3.93 per mile to run this race (the entry fee divided by 26.2). Physically it will cost me a lot more. And yes, regardless of what happens it will be worth it. My kids have seen me tired, torn, exhausted, drenched in salt and sweat, all in the name of running. My passion, my friend, my foe. They know I have set a goal and to teach them about life is to strive for it, to talk the talk and walk the walk. To run the run, no matter what the outcome.

Currently reading : Peace Like a River By Leif Enger Release date: 20 August, 2002

8 Random Things #5

When I was a kid I coudn't stand wearing jeans, something about the feel of them. I was pretty much adorned in worn out courdoroys passed down from my brother or sweatpants instead. Until the fourth grade that is. My friend, Michelle L., and I went roller skating (you know shoot the duck and couples skate) and I had on my comfy sweatpants. I don't remember which round it was on the skate floor but all of a sudden I realized that everyone else had jeans on and that I was uncool. No wonder I didn't have a partner for couples skate! I vividly remember this scene and probably always will. I'm sure when I'm gray with dementia that I will regress back to the time when I was a fashion nightmare.

Oh, please, don't get the impression that I am a fashion queen now. I'm not. But I have learned that jeans don't make the woman. They are good to clean the chicken coop or spread manure in the garden. Sometimes I persist and go shopping for jeans, find a pair that I think are cozy and actually pay money for them. They inevitably end up at the bottom of my pile of pants. I will even go so far as to put them on some days for about five minutes and then change into real pants. I go through this with bras too, but that is for another post, or probably I can leave that to the imagination...

Currently reading : The Nature of Jade By Deb Caletti Release date: 27 February, 2007

8 Random Things #4

People that know me are aware that I like my life to be played in an arena that has order to it, chaos and I don't mix well. I am attempting to get a handle on my OCD but I just can't seem to let go of my fixation on the eggs in their carton. You would think it wouldn't matter where the eggs sit in the egg carton, they certainly don't mind, but I have a little problem if they are not placed in the carton properly. Properly Placed Eggs (PPEs) are arranged from the middle of the carton outward, there must be an even number on each side of the middle and if there is only one per side they must be placed opposite of each other on the diagonal. PPEs must be symmetrical! Don't tell Vinnie, but when I know he has used eggs to cook/bake (yes, it does happen and yours truly get to clean the mess) I will actually go in the refrigerator and make sure we have PPEs.

Currently reading : Speak Softly, She Can Hear: A Novel By Pam Lewis Release date: 07 March, 2006

8 Random Things #3

When I was in college I decided that I would marry the first guy to bring me an eggplant. Really, seriously, this is true. I figured someone that brought me flowers did not know me very well or at all for that matter (they die, they dry up, they fall all over, you have to decide at what point to toss them-way too much for me), but an eggplant, well that says something about somebody. My sister knew this and once sent me a card that came with eggplant seeds in it, she figured she would be my back-up, but that would be illegal on two counts so I settled for the guy that brought me a pumpkin.

Seriously. This is for real. And really, I'm only one or two crackers short of a full box.