And on the 12th Day of Viral Infection, My Fever Gave to Me

This morning was the first morning in 12 days where I woke up and didn't feel entirely like warm turd.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't wake up feeling like unicorns had been kissing me all night, but to wake up and feel even a smidgen like myself was a welcome feeling.  I still took two Advil to ward off the small undercurrent of crud I could still feel, but I think I may be on the mend (*knock on wood*).

Coincidentally, the dr. called this morning with the results of my blood test, and it showed that I had nada.  No mono.  No bacterial infections.  Nuthin.  So, again, the dr. reiterated that I was probably just fighting a particularly clingy virus. 

Incidentally, Jerry said he woke up this morning and felt a little icky.  He said his throat was sore.  Uh-oh.  I hope I didn't pass on the 12 Days of Ick to him!  Ah, the gift of marriage: Wherein you get to share EVERYthing.

In the meanwhile, I haven't let this bothersome bug interrupt the streak.  Over the weekend, I did my best to rest as much as possible so I just stuck to 1 milers, but today I ran 3 miles, and felt pretty decent.

Today is Day #93.  7 more days and I tie my 100 day streak from 2010!  Virus, schmirus!  I gots to keep running, yo.

Update

So, I ended up going to the doctor yesterday.  They did a urine test, a throat culture, a flu test, and drew my blood.  The results of the blood test are still out, but everything else came back negative, so the prognosis?  "Probably some kind of virus."

Today, I decided to take the day off work so I could get some extra rest.  I think I've been trying too hard to just plow through this ick, but I think I clearly need some rest.  I slept this morning for an extra 3 hours.  It was pretty awesome.

Hopefully, by the time the blood test results come back, I'm feeling better.

As for the running, the doctor was not totally for it, but wasn't totally against it either.  I take that as a green light on at least getting short runs done to keep the streak active.

I'm too sick to work, but dammit, I'm not too sick to run! :)

Wednesday's Wondering

I have been running a low grade fever for 7 days now.  It's my only symptom (that, and a fever's accompanying side effects: chills, aches, fatigue).  I manage it easily enough by taking two Advil first thing in the morning and two in the late afternoon; while the Advil is in effect, I feel pretty much fine, but when it wears off, I feel like shark farts again.

So, using the all-knowing, and of course, trustworthy, powers of the interweb, I have determined that I either have a common virus or I have cancer.  Oh, WebMd had 91 other possibilities mixed in there as well: In case you're wondering, a low grade fever is THE most generic symptom you can exhibit, so it pretty much qualifies you to have everything from Lyme's disease to AIDS.

Thus, for you dear readers, who also have all sorts of interweb medical expertise, I have two questions for you:

My one question at this point is this: Should I go see an actual doctor?  I keep thinking, "Eh, this is gonna pass in another day.  A doctor is just going to charge me my co-pay, tell me I have a virus, and send me on my way."  But then another day passes, and I wake up and still feel like warm poo.

My other question, which I may be far likelier to ignore your advice on, is this: Is running right now advisable?  Because I'm still running.  Not much -- 3 miles a day -- but I haven't let this break my streak (today's run was day #89: I really can't stop now!).  Like I said above, with Advil, I feel alright and the exercise is manageable, but it does tire me out, thus, the short duration.  I also wonder if I'm doing myself in any favors in shaking whatever I've got by powering through the running each day.  Still, if I quit now, and then I suddenly get over this temporary plague, I would KICK myself for breaking the streak!

Any thoughts?  Suggestions?  Do you think this fever will kill me and that I'll then re-animate as a zombie?  Thats' really the worst case scenario, right?

Weekend Wrap Up

The weekend was a whirlwind of airports, the wedding, and more airports.  But I had a lovely (but brief) visit to DC and the wedding I attended was nice -- and probably the most unique wedding I've ever attended (can you top a gay, Wiccan wedding among the weddings you've attended?  if not, add it to your to-do list!).

I got back home Saturday night and was simply pooped.  A combination of flying, the Drammamine necessary for me to fly, wine at the wedding, and still not feeling "right," left me exhausted.  Yesterday, I played catch up with household chores, and even with a nearly 2 hour afternoon nap, I was still beat at the end of the day and still not feeling good.  So, I went to bed when Norah did.  At 8 pm.

This morning, after 11 hours of sleep, I think I am better.  I seriously don't know if I've been sick or what -- it's like I have "kinda sick" symptoms but not totally.  It's weird.  (I also had very strange dreams last night; fever dreams?  I don't know, but I can tell you there were zombies.  And I haven't been watching or reading any zombie stuff as of late.)

Despite the travel and the not feeling on top of my game, I did keep up with the running over the weekend, although I'm sad to report that I totally missed out on great running in DC (weather was PERFECT).  There just wasn't time for more than a short treadmill run in my hotel early Saturday morning.

I'm hoping that this week is a week of routine -- I could really use a "regular" week -- and I hope I get over whatever "bug" I've had.  I've been alternating between chills and sweats for almost 4 days now, so if I'm not over it soon, I'm certain it's the plague.

1 Miler

In a streak, there is always the safety net distance of completing at least 1 mile in a day to keep a streak active.

That's what I fell back on this morning.

Last night, I had a weird night's sleep: I woke up at midnight with chills.  I felt sore, achy, and cold.  Then, a few hours later, I woke up completely drenched in sweat.  I either have the little virus that Caleb had (his only symptom was a fever, so I still don't know if he had a virus or was just teething), or I'm going through menopause.

When I got up this morning, I just wasn't feeling "good."  Nothing in particular was paining me or making me feel ill, but I sorely wanted to just crawl back into bed and sleep a few more hours.  Since that wasn't an option, I went out and just did the 1 mile minimum.  It was slow. 

Now, I have class and then I'm off to the airport for my trip to DC.  I doubt there will be an opportunity for me later this evening for more miles, so I think I'll just have to let that 1 miler stand as today's run.  So far this week, I'm logging the lowest mileage since June.

Eh.  I suspect the world won't end.

Ayhoo...I'm looking forward to getting some extra winks on the plane and reading my book.  Enjoy your weekends!  Check ya later.

The Minimum Requirements

This week has been a bit...busy.

My SIL was in town visiting for a few days.  Caleb was sick (or just teething, I don't know, either way, he's been a Crab Apple).  And, tomorrow, I leave for a day away to attend a wedding in DC.

It's not overwhelming or anything, but combine the irregular week with seemingly low levels of energy (maybe I'm getting sick, or teething?), and I have just been scraping by each day with the running.  3 milers all week.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.  It has kept the streak active, and 30 minutes of running each day is still decent, but for it to be Thursday and to have only run 15 miles so far this week...well, it feels like I'm being a slacker.

Perhaps I'll perk up over the weekend (I'm looking forward to being able to run Saturday morning in DC -- I better get some autumn temps!), and then next week presumably will be back to a more normal routine for our family, and hopefully, for the running as well!

Robot Commentors

So, what's the 411 about comment settings on blogs? 

I always used to have the word verification, but I know that since Blogger changed it and made it more complex, some readers have a hard time deciphering it and just give up on trying to comment (and I know from reading some others' blogs that it IS a pain).  So, I removed the word verification.

And now?

All kinds of spam is filling my email via the comments section.  Sorry, "Anonymous," I have no need for prescription drugs or to contribute money to a disposed Nigerian prince.  It's annoying.

Because I open my email and I get all excited at first: "Ohhh!  25 new comments?!"  And then I discover that it's all just random characters cobbled together or an add for knock-off Louis Vitton purses.  Nerds!

Does anyone who doesn't use the word verification get this much spam?  A few of you, I note, use the comment moderator, is that better or more of a headache since you have to approve each comment?  Should I just accept the robot comments and be happy robots are even reading?

Let me know your thoughts as blog writers, and preferences as blog readers.  "Anonymous"?  You can just butt out of this discussion; take a little robot siesta.

Boremill

bore'mill (bor'mil) n. A machine designed for the ease and convenience of running that inadvertantly creates almost universal running lethargy in users. Frequent users may find that the machine's reptition and tedium induce intense user boredom and unusual fatigue.  Especially on a rainy Monday morning (which, for 8 academic years has always been a holiday, but was determined this year to NOT be an academic holiday) when the user slept poorly.

Such users may find that instead of running an intended 6 miles, he or she can only eek out 3, and even that may feel strenuous.

Users of this nature may be named Jess.

A Walk in the Woods

Nearby, there's a "Nature Trail" -- ie, a 1/3 mile loop of spared swamp in the middle of suburbia -- and often I take the kids there to walk.  It's relaxing for me because I don't have to worry about cars, and it's more scenic than a regular walk in the neighborhood, and in 1/3 of a mile, these two find more than enough sticks, pine cones, rocks, etc to fascinate them.  That 1/3 of mile typically takes us 30 minutes to walk.

 

Anyhoo, this afternoon, I decided to take my camera along and snap a few kid pics along the trail.

 

Caleb struttin' his stuff:

 

Norah posing with a weird look on her face.  She was very proud of her outfit today (when she picked it out, she emerged from her room and asked: "Hey guys, does this look cool?"  I told her it was totally cool.  Shhhhh!  Don't tell her about not wearing white after Labor Day!), so she was actually sorta, kinda cooperative about pics.  Still, I told her to "smile natural" and I mainly got looks like this one:

Halfway through the walk, there's a long boardwalk over the swampy part, and Norah refers to this as the "Troll Bridge."  It's her favorite part.  Starting from here, she had a series of pics wherein she posed with hands on hips in each one:

Typically, Caleb gets tired toward the end of the walk, and he's not adverse to just laying down in protest.  Here, he was initially looking at some plants between the slats of the boardwalk, and then he just gave up, and was like, "Nah, I don't think I wanna walk anymore."

On the other hand, it takes a LOT to wear down Norah; here she is burning off a little extra energy:

After the boardwalk, Caleb was ready to ride, and Norah is all too happy to push him.  She often doesn't watch where she's going, though, so I have to keep steering them out of the pine needles.

At the end of the walk, there was a nice breeze, and Norah declared: "Ah! It's a nice summer day!"  I informed her that it was, in fact, fall now.

Her: "What's fall?"

Me: "Well, in other places, fall is when the temperature gets cooler and the leaves change color."

Her: "What leaves change color?"

Me: "All kinds of leaves.  They turn red, and orange, and yellow!  But, here in FL, we don't have that.  It's basically summer all year."

She thought on that for a moment and then said, "Yeah, I like summer."

Most people do, I told her.  Me?  I always miss autumn.  Come mid-September, I'd be totally willing to trade 90 degrees and green leaves for crisp temps and colorful leaves.  Enjoy it, if that's where you are!

Foto Friday

So, this is my little hambone right now:

 

 

I ask him to "smile!" and he* does it:

 

Norah, however, when I ask her to "smile," I get this artificial smile where her eyes aren't even open:

 

Or, she just flat out refuses me and keeps picking her nose:

Kids in this generation have to be THE most photographed...ever...so I understand Norah's camera-weariness, but in general, being 3 is an obnoxious age that seems filled with bossiness, bargains, and demands; so it's nice to still have Caleb be my "baby" and smile nicely for the camera.  I'm sure that, soon enough, he too will ignore me and/or give me the fake smile.

*Something else I'm appreciating about Caleb, and his age, right now: He eats!  Simple enough, right?  Not for Norah.  She treats each meal like a hostage situation.  If she had a panic room, she'd use it when we called "dinner!"  Caleb, on the other hand, eats everything (veggies? yes, please!  meat? sure!) and eats it ALL.  Shows too: He grew 3 inches and gained more than 3 lbs the past 3 months.  He doubled in clothing size.  The one upper hand Norah has in this comparison?  She's potty trained.  Yup, that's about all I can come up with right now...

Ego Boost

One of the best parts about running on the treadmill at the campus gym is being flanked by students, most of whom are a traditional age: 18-22.  So, why is it awesome running next to them?

Because I out-run them, that's why!

99.9% of the time (yes, I conducted a scientific study), I either run faster and/or farther.  This morning, for example, I ran 6 miles, and in that time, I got new tready neighbors 3 times -- one girl merely walked at a 1.5 speed for 10 minutes (I don't know if she went off and did something else more strenuous, but that pace/distance is about enough exertion to only burn the calories off a Tic Tac).

This is like a fuzzy blanket for my ego: I'm older, but when it comes to running, clearly, I'm more awesome.

Or, perhaps, I'm just WAY sweatier and smellier so they're eager to move along. 

I choose to go with the previous theory.

Looking Back

I initially forgot that today was 9/11, but then on my way to work, NPR had a segment on the memorial services being held, and suddenly, I was reminded of the significance of the day.

Every generation has a day like today: My grandparents remember where they were when Pearl Harbor was bombed, my parents remember where they were when Kennedy was shot, and I distinctly remember where I was when the Twin Towers were hit.

I was in a graduate seminar in poetry.  We were studying an Emily Dickinson poem.  Because if you're an English graduate student, that's what you spend your time doing: You sit in a conference room with 8 or 9 other like-minded-literary-nerds and explicate the bejesus out of a work -- "kicking the dead horse" my friend used to say.  For hours.  It's awesome.

Anyway, I remember, we were taking a break, so we all emerged from the room we had been in and there was chaos in the hallways.  SOMEthing was happening, but we had no idea what.  Quickly, we learned that a plane had hit one of the towers of the World Trade Center, but at that time, no one knew why -- initially, everyone thought it was an accident.  At that point, someone had wheeled a TV out into the hallway where faculty and other grad students were gathering, and they flicked on the TV and there we saw the second plane hit the second tower.

Everyone just gasped.

WTF was happening?  No one seemed able to comprehend what we'd just seen.  It was clear with that footage that that 2nd plane had steered, purposely, into the tower, but the very idea seemed incomprehensible, absurd.

And then, it was break over, and we went back to our studies -- although I can't remember if we held a full class after that or if we left early since everyone was so distracted and confused that focusing on metaphors seemed too much for our brains to comprehend.

Later that evening, I went to work at the restaurant where I was a server.  The restaurant had decided to remain open, but that was clearly pointless; it was dead that night.  I think I had one, maybe two tables, and then we all just packed it in and went home to watch the news repeat the footage of that second plane over,  and over, and over, again.  I went to bed that night feeling shocked and confused.

All of that is what I thought about this morning as I ran my 5 miles on the treadmill.  Around me, were students who were all children when the planes hit those towers, and I wondered if the event carried as much weight in their collective memories since they were so young when it happened (although, for me, I do remember how tragic it was watching the Challenger explode during take off -- we watched that on TV at school, I was in 1st grade; we'd been studying space exploration in preparation of that launch; watching it explode was surreal).

So, here we all are 11 years later.  I teach some of Dickinson's poetry in my literature classes, which seems fitting to me: Towers fall, wars are waged, people are changed, but poetry -- and literature as a whole -- remains steadfast in capturing the diversities and universalities of the human condition.  No matter the day, or the circumstances, it is always worth reading.

Where were you?

On Shoes

Last week, Kathee asked a significant question: "If you are running THAT many miles, how often are you changing shoes??"

Short answer: I'm not changing my shoes.  AT ALL.

I've been running in my current pair of Brooks Adrenalines for more than 1,000 miles.  Holes are literally wearing through the tread.  But...I think they still have some life in 'em.

LOOOOOOOONG answer:  I no longer buy into what shoe companies have long led me to believe about how I should change my shoes every 300 miles.  And, in that vein, I'm not really sure there's any benefit, at all, to wearing "running" shoes.  Yes, I've gone hippie in my thinking.  Kinda.

For the longest time, I made fun of my beloved runner friends who decided to ditch their shoes, either for minimalist shoes, Vibrams, or for full-out barefoot.  I dismissed barefoot or minimalist running as a trend, and often joked that for each pair of Vibrams, they should sell a vial of patchouli.

Then I read Christopher McDougall's "Born to Run" and I had to admit: He had a well-reasoned argument against running shoes, especially the typical stability shoe that most of us run in.  So, I went experimenting.  Earlier this year, I tried two different minimalist shoes: Brooks PureConnects and New Balance's Minimus.  I feel a gave each one a fair shake, but in the end, neither really worked for me.  I pretty much flat out hated the PureConnects, and while I think the Minimus are comfy for everyday walking around and some light running, ultimately, they felt too flat to me.

So I went back to the pair of Brooks Adrenalines (my stability shoe, brand and model, that I'd been wearing for years), and it was like slipping back into a pair of comfy sweat pants: Ahhhhhh!

Arguably, there are MANY other pairs of minimalist shoes out there that I could test out, and there are always the Vibrams and the totally barefoot approaches, but here's what I think about that: Nah.  Why keep testing new shoes when I have shoes that I like and that work well for me?  Same with barefoot running.  I love to scamper through grass barefoot as much as anyone, but I couldn't imagine setting out for a 6 miler on the suburban sidewalks where I run without any shoes.

And here's the lowdown for me: I haven't had any running-related injury in more than 6 years, and when I did experience injury (ITBS), I attribute that more to inconsistent/inadequate training than I do to any shoe failure.

But, all that being said, I return to what I said before: I don't necessarily think I need to frequently replace my shoes; I think they can hold out much longer than what shoe companies prescribe (clearly, their motives are questionable in this debate).  And, I can't say that "running" shoes work well for every runner. 

So the long and short about how I feel about shoes?  Wear what works, for as long or as short a duration as they work.  Only time and experience allow us each to find what works best for each runner.

Whirlwind Weekend Wrap Up

Phew, what a weekend!

It included Saturday swim lessons, a 4 year old's birthday party, a 33 and 39 year olds' birthday party, and Disney on Ice.  Plus the week's regular shopping: Publix and Target.  Jerry would probably include on there the start of football, and I should probably add that too since he's so distracted managing his bazillion fantasy teams on Sundays that he's pretty much useless for 17 weeks.

I managed the bare minimum running (a 3 miler yesterday and a 4 miler today), but I fit it into a weekend where I feel like we jammed a whole month's worth of acitivities into 2 days.

The reward, however, for being so busy?  Norah was lights out tonight at 6:15, and Caleb was in bed at 6:30.  I feel like I gained an extra 2 hours of my life!

That being said, I'm sorry, but I'm not spending that extra time blogging.  I think I'll go read and go to bed.

Wish I could sleep through until next weekend!

Thousands of Things Thursday

The running continues on, but there's not really anything to report there.  So, I figure I'll jibber-jabber about the kids today.

Norah

This pic, below, is from last weekend, at our friend's son's (Mason, who you may remember me heroically freeing from the confines of our bedroom two weeks ago) 1 year old b-day party.  His actual b-day is today, and Norah is sitting with her friend Rylee, whose b-day is also today (we like to keep things tight in our circle of friends).  Look how sweet Norah is smiling here.  She never smiles like that when I want to take her picture.

So, Norah Beans, what's she up to as of late?

Well, all kinds of stuff, actually.  She turned 3 a few weeks ago, you know, so now she's got a full-blown LIFE.  Complete with exta-curriculars and everything.  She's taking swimming lessons on Saturdays right now, and she's doing Zumba on Thursdays.  Zumba, right?!  It wouldn't have occurred to me either, but her school offers it and they had a free class last week, and turns out, dancing around like a wild person to wild music is right up Norah's alley!  We always knew some kind of refined dancing wouldn't really jive with her personality, but this?  This makes sense.

She's also a chatty-Cathy lately.  We do all kinds of talking now, and some of our riveting conversations have included the following pertinent information: Tigers are kinda scary, but she likes kangaroos; she wishes she had a Tinker Bell on hand so she could fly -- she needs Tink's pixie dust; and, can you believe this?  Some kids at school do NOT have Scooter dogs!  The very idea, right?  (Their parents must enjoy not waking up to dog yak first thing in the morning.)

Lastly, we can't seem to get her out of our bed lately.  She's like a case of bed bugs and our bedroom is like an NYC hotel room.  Sometimes she waits until the very wee hours of morning, like 5:30 or 6 am, to sneak in; other times though, she just appears there around 2 or 3 am, and I only know she's there because I wake up with her leg draped across my neck.

Between her delivering a roundhouse to my head each night, and Scooter crowding my feet each night, I either need a bigger bed, or Norah does -- so I can go sleep in there!

Caleb
This dude just remains the cutest little bugger ever.

Contrary to his sister, he is not talking much, though.  Oh, he talks, he has a handful of "words" -- words in the sense that Jerry, Norah, and I know what he's saying but would just sound like the screeches of a pterodactyl to anyone else.  But, despite not saying much, he's understanding basically everything now, and that's handy because I can now issue commands.

"Go get your shoes," "put this in the trash," and his favorite: "go get a towel and clean this up."  Strangely, the dude LIVES to wipe up messes off the floor.  He practically races to get a kitchen towel when either he or Norah spill.

But, already, he can also be a real shit pickle: Hitting, pulling Norah's hair, coloring on the floor with markers (this one is gonna give Jerry a stroke one day -- you can practically SEE the veins in his head collapsing when he spots Caleb + markers), eating Norah's art supplies, playing with the toilet plunger (another bane of Jerry's existence), and one of his favorite mischievous activities: unrolling every square of T.P. in the house.  We just have piles of toilet paper now, nothing stays spooled.

I guess he has to have extra-curriculars too!

August Tally, Day #66, and that Fresh Fall Feeling

August was not the epic running month I had hoped it would be.  There were many small interruptions and events that made for a busy month to continue with my streak and to aim for some mega mileage: Norah's 3rd birthday and birthday party, I was sick (twice), we had the start of the school year, and we had TS Isaac sweep through.

Considering all of that, I can't complain.  It wasn't an epic month, and my goal week of a 50 mile week slipped (temporarily) out of my radar, but I still had a very solid month, running a total of 150 miles and adding 31 more days to my streak.

September will likely be just as busy as August -- our calendar is already pretty full -- but, I figure it's always better to have a busy life than an empty one, and the running will get done alongside such a full schedule, I'm sure.  Today, I only felt like running a measly 3 miler on the gym's treadmill, but the weather has actually been slightly pleasant the last few days, so I'm looking forward to logging more miles tonight in the great outdoors to round out day #66 in my current running streak.

As for other September running goals, I have three: Keep the streak going, aim to run that 50 mile week, and return to HM shape by adding more long runs to the weekly running.

September always feels like a fresh start for me since it's the start of the school year, and since I was 5, I have always enjoyed the back-to-school feeling -- like Tom Hanks' character says in "You've Got Mail," "It makes me feel like buying school supplies"!  I wish here in FL we had true autumn weather to match the change in season, but I will just have to settle for reading your accounts of that.

If you like the fresh feel of fall too, you may want to read Gretchen Rubin's new book about her attempt to start fresh in fall (if you read her other book "The Happiness Project," this promises to be just as fun a read):

It comes out today.  I want to read it, but right now I'm engrossed in "Game of Thrones" -- all kinds of medieval drama there that I'm so caught up in that I've been dreaming about Starks, Lannisters, and White Walkers, oh my!  And, by-the-by, the HBO series by the same name is just as awesome as the novel.  Watch it.  I command thee!

The Unplanned Run

This morning, I arrived on campus about 15 minutes later than I would've liked.  When I got to the gym, I found that a wellness class was in full session and every single treadmill was occupied.  Nerds!

I could've hopped on an elliptical for a few minutes and waited out a treadmill since students tend to have short attention spans on there, but I don't really like the elliptical, so instead, I turned on my heal, went out the door and started running.

Just about every aspect of this was undesirable: It was mid-morning so hot as hell, I didn't have my running sunglasses or visor (just regular sunglasses, which sufficed), and I didn't have my Garmin.  Thankfully, I've run near campus enough that I have a few routes that I know well, so I knew a 3 mile loop that would work for the morning's run.

Man alive, it was hot, though.  It was 9:15 when I headed out and the temp hovered just shy of 90 degrees, with humidity in the bazillions.  Un. com. fort. able.  Combine that with this lingering cold, and I felt like I was slogging along.

At the very end of the run, I was actually felt like I was warming in to it, but by then I was done.  I suppose I could've stopped back inside the gym to see if a treadmill had opened up and tried to get a mile or two more in, but I decided to just call it good for the morning.  I think I'll aim to get another few miles in this evening at home, though.

So, it wasn't really the run I'd planned on, but it was the run I got.  I feel like August has thrown me a lot of small running hurdles like this all month; thankfully, I haven't let any of them deter the running streak, but still.  I'm looking forward to a clean slate in September.

On the bright side, I remembered a towel today!

The New Routine Running

Yesterday was the start of what I'm hoping will become part of my weekday routine running: treadmill miles at the campus gym.

My schedule allows me about an hour and a half when I first get to campus to workout and shower before I've scheduled office hours, so yesterday was my first go at this routine.  I've never used the faculty locker room before, but I got the code, and I packed all my shower stuff.

It went well yesterday, but I have come down with a case of the sniffles -- just a minor head cold that is more annoying than anything -- and combine that with the fact that I was running a wee bit later than I'd have liked and I only got 4 miles done.  Which was fine.  I showered, got ready, and had plenty of time to arrive at my office.  The one downside?

There seems to be no hot water in the faculty locker room.  It was a bit like showering in a Russian prison.

Today, then, I arrived at my "goal" time, plus I am feeling a bit better today, so I managed to do a full 6 miles on the treadmill (in 58:50, I might add, which for me, is SUPA fast), then I headed over to the showers, and again, brrrr!

My one error today?  I forgot to pack a towel!  DOH!

I had an extra gym towel, but that's only about the size of a hand towel, and drying myself with that was a bit comical.  It reminded me of the scene in "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles" when Steve Martin's character has to dry himself with a wash cloth after the John Candy character has used up every other available towel:

So, these are the lessons learned so far: Arrive on time, be prepared to take an icy shower, and, this important Jess, remember an effing towel!

Tropical Storm Isaac = Rainy Running

Tropical Storm Isaac first started stirring up storm-hype around here early last week, but it wasn't until Saturday that we actually started to see the beginnings of the actual storm.

 

Saturday morning, I got out for a morning 3 miler and was lucky to time the run before too much rain began.  I barely even got drizzled on, and it was good I got it done in the morning, since I spent Saturday night smashing down my own bedroom door (see below).

 

Sunday, however, the storm was nearing.  For serious.  For those unfamiliar with tropical storms, the rain comes in bands, especially as a storm moves in (and, later, moves out), so there are breaks in the rain -- sometimes 5 minutes, sometimes an hour -- then the downpour resumes. 

 

So, Sunday morning, Norah and Jerry went to run some storm-prep errands (grocery store, Home Depot to get a new bedroom door knob -- again, see below), and I decided to load Caleb up in the BOB and take our chances in what I hoped would be a long-lasting lull.  We made it about 1.2 miles before the deluge began.  Caleb was sleeping by then, and I had the weather shield on hand, so I covered he and the stroller up, and he stayed dry and cozy.

 

I, on the other hand, got drenched.

 

Today, then, was the storm's actual "landfall" (for clarification, Isaac didn't pass directly through here, nor was it the intensity that had originally been predicted), and both the kids and I were home for the day since school for all of us had been cancelled.  Jerry went to work, though.

 

Normally, I wouldn't say that a day stuck inside with two kids could be called a day "off," but we had a good day, and the kids were really good and mainly entertained themselves and each other.  Besides, I have this handy-dandy baby-cage for this dude:

 

And this girl spent a large part of her day working on her art:

See?  Masterpiece:

In the late morning, I did gather the troops for an outing: We had library books to return and Red Box movies to return, so I figured we'd get out and get a few things done.  It was a bit of a hassle getting in and out of the car between sideways sheets of rain, but it was good for us to get out and about some.

This afternoon, the rain cleared up, and even though it remained overcast, the storm had basically passed, so we were all happy to get outside for a bit and survey the landscape.

The water in the canal behind our place was about 3 feet higher than normal, and the sand traps on the golf course were basically beaches:

For some perspective, this is what those sand traps normally look like, and the water line in the above picture is about where Norah is standing below:

And, yeah, Norah does run around outside in princess dresses.  Wouldn't you if you had a kick-ass Rapunzel dress?

So, after dinner, I got in my running clothes and headed outside for a run.  I didn't get rained on, but my 3 miles were more like an obstacle course than anything else: Skirting around and jumping over puddles that were the width and depth of small lakes, and hurdling over fallen branches and other debris.  On the whole, I feel pretty lucky for how I was able to navigate my running through this storm for the past few days.

By tomorrow, we should have clear weather and we all resume our normal routine.  For me, hopefully that also means resuming some higher mileage.  The past week or so has been a bit of a slump in mileage, but I think I've gotten the rest I needed and I'm ready to start re-pursuing those higher digits.

Break and Enter

If you find yourself on a rainy afternoon thinking, "Hmm, I'm kinda bored.  It would be fun to go to Jess' house, have a beer, chat, let the kids play, and order a pizza for dinner," you may want to call my friend Erin, and ask her about our evening tonight, and then you may think again.

 

She came over this evening with her two boys, so our rugrats could run around together and so we could have a drink and catch up.  The evening was the normal amount of madness, until shortly before they were getting ready to leave, and she asked: "Where's Mason?" (Her 1 year old, who had, literally, been RIGHT THERE, 2 seconds before she asked that question.)

 

Turns out, he was in Jerry and I's bedroom, and like a small, blond Houdini, he'd managed to lock himself in there.

 

No one panicked.  I figured I could unscrew the doorknob, it would fall apart, and...viola!  1 year old is free!  Turns out, it was not so easy.

 

Poor Mason was calm at first, but after a few minutes of us NOT opening the door for him, he started to cry, and that triggered the "Mama Bear" in both Erin and I, and we were taking. down. that. door.  Let's just say that I pictured myself with the ninja-like abilities of a youthful, Action-Jeans-selling-Norris:

 

The reality was, of course, way cooler. 

I used a hammer to first force the other side of the doorknob through the hole (and probably bonked Mason on his little noggin) and then used the hammer to literally break the inner-workings of the door lock in half.  And then Erin had to carefully wiggle the remaining lock-bits out of the wall frame, and then...viola!  1 year was old free!

It was very dramatic.  Mason was crying (he had a crappy diaper, so he was mainly pissed that he was sitting in shit on his side of the door), Erin was crying, and I was laughing with relief and residual endorphins.

After they left, I called Jerry (he and Erin's husband, Ryan, were at their fantasy football draft) to tell him (triumphantly!) that we had broken the door knob off the bedroom door in order to rescue a stranded Mason.  His reply: "You know there's a skeleton key for all the doors on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet in my bathroom, don't you?"

No, no I did NOT know that.

But, for next time...

To top off my evening, as I was cleaning up the kid detritus after our friends had left and after the kids had gone to bed, I found that Scooter had pulled off the night's coup d'etat: He'd peed all over Jerry and I's bed.

So, no more Mr. Nice Guy Norris, I think I'm gonna go all Cruella DeVil on his ass.

A No-Go on the Mojo

This entire week, the running has felt forced.  Still, Mon-Wed, I managed to run 5 milers each day, but today?  Today, I just am NOT feelin' it...AT ALL.

Still, I got on my running stuff, got all ready, and got out there, figuring that I'd warm in to it, but 1 mile in, and I was ready to pack it in.  So, I turned and headed home for a grand total of 2.06 miles.

I'm declaring it a "rest" day.

Morning Hijinks

Often, it seems that I'm only ever telling stories about Norah's rascality, but as Caleb's personality starts to evolve from sweet, innocent baby into trouble-making toddler, he's been adding some of his own devilry to the household.

Case in point: This morning.

Right now, dressing Caleb is like dressing a wet octopus, so I usually get him changed on the living room floor, that way if he manages to wriggle away from me, he’s not plunging off the top of the changing table.  Often I only manage to get him half-dressed before he maneuvers out of my grasp and runs away from me.  Yes, a month ago, he was just weeble-walking around here, and now he is a person who can ESCAPE and run away from me.

Well, “run” is an overstatement.  Still, it’s surprising how quick he can be if he wants to.

So, this morning, I’m getting him dressed for school and he wriggles away – naked – and gets over to the entryway.

Where he stands and pees on the floor.

It reminded me of one of those naked cherubs* who sometimes appear in water fountains.

*Which, sidenote, those are kinda weird, aren't they?  Does anyone think that's cute?  End sidenote.*

I had to tell him: "Kid, you're no angel and my tile is no water fountain.  Let's holster that little gun of yours."

He resigned to getting dressed, but I saw the glint in his eye: This is just the beginning, isn't it?

1st Day and Lunch Lunacy

The kids' and I's first day back to school went well today.  Norah was completely cool with the change in school and seemed to easily settle in with her new teacher and new friends.  Caleb cried at drop off, but that was expected.  We could hear that he'd stopped crying right after we left his room, and at the end of the day, his teacher said he did well.

I did a little car-crying.  Also expected.  But, it was brief, and soon, I was fine as I sucked down my coffee and listened to NPR in blissful silence.

I also learned a little bit of the successes/weaknesses of what/how we packed the kids' lunches.  I don't know why this is something that confounds me.  Maybe because I grew up eating the crappiest packed lunches in the history of humankind that I want their lunches to be totally rad, but still healthy.

Seriously, when I was a kid, my packed lunches were the WORST.  Reasons for this were aplenty:

1.  My mom hates waste, so I think she thought of our lunches as an opportunity to use up food.  I opened that bag with trepidation: It was like a game of roulette.  I never knew what I'd find in there.  My brother often referred to the sandwiches she concocted as "dinner between bread."  I'm sure she often thought she was being inventive and creative whilst using up what was leftover, but by god, I can't describe how many times those science experiments went right in the trash.  Wasteful.  Sorry, Mom.

2.  My mom is a thrifty person, who thinks packaged, prepared foods are over-priced, but she was also health-conscious before it was cool.  So...you got Lucky Charms when you were growing up?  Awesome.  I didn't.  We didn't get sugary cereals.  They were gonna "rot [our] teeth."  I also didn't get a single Hostess product in my lunch when I was growing up, and I can tell you this: It's a hard sell to try and trade your goddamn apple for Twinkies.

3.  Lastly, our packed lunches were train wrecks because my mom had some kind of grudge against actual sandwich baggies.  Don't ask me why.  Baggies were probably socialist or something, I don't know.  What I do know, is that she used Saran Wrap for virtually any kind of preservation.  Guess what?  Saran Wrap doesn't work for shit to keep loose chips grouped together or to keep unruly grapes from breaking free and disseminating all over your brown bag and ultimately getting squished and oozing their squishedness onto other disorderly, free-rolling lunch companions. 

So, most days, I loathed the lunch my mom packed me, and I loved the days I got hot lunch, or later in high school, when she just handed me some money to get lunch as I pleased.

Thus, my feelings now.  I want my kids' lunches to be healthy (no Twinkies for them either) but I also want them to like what they're eating, or if nothing else, not dread it.

Any hints or advice?  Little helpful tidbits for packing the right balance of healthy food they'll actually consume that won't take me half the night before to prepare and package?  (Unlike my mother, I appreciate companies that do some of the legwork for me and I'm totally willing to overpay for convenience.)

What did you get in your lunches as a kid?  Was yours awesome?  Or, did it suck like mine?

Back to School

Tomorrow is the start of the school year here.  Back to work for me and the kids will be not only changing their school schedule, but they'll also be changing schools.

The daycare/preschool we've attended since Norah was 10 weeks old is closing.  We got notification of its closure last spring, and it was emotional news for us, and it wasn't easy scouting out new places and finding a center that best suited all of our expected needs.  In the end, we found one that we feel is the best fit for our family, but really, it's hard to entirely know until we get into the groove of having the kids attend.

For those who know us, or who have been reading for awhile, you know that even though I'm a full time professor, I've managed for the past 3 years to work out a teaching schedule that has allowed me to stay at home every day for half the day during the academic year.  I've appreciated this schedule in many ways, but it hasn't been without its difficulties too: In order to be home half the day, I've had to to teach 2 night classes each term (I actually enjoy night class students -- they tend to be a more mature group -- but those teaching days tend to be exhausting); plus, there have been other small hurdles.  For example, when I've been sick or when I've had meetings, we have either had to pay the drop in rate at school ($20 an hour for the 2 kids) or Jerry has had to take time off to be at home when I can't be.

So, for several reasons -- the new school's available scheduling, a need for me to keep a more "regular" work schedule, and the idea that both kids may benefit from a fuller day at school (Norah, especially, is at an age where she can get more out of the curriculum if she's there all day) -- the kids will be attending school full time and I'll be working more normal Mon-Fri hours.  Although, that being said, because I have the sweetest gig out there, my full-time-normal-hours are still just 6 hours a day, so I'll be dropping the kids off between 8:30-9 and picking them up around 3:30. 

By many working moms' standards, that's hardly a "full" day's schedule, so I know I am still extremely fortunate to have the kind of full-time career that I do that also allows me so much time at home.

Anyhoo, what I'm circling around to, is that tomorrow is a new start for me and for the kids.  New school for them, new schedule for all of us.  And even though I think it will be best for all of us, I am feeling the typical mom-separation-anxiety-emotions about this new start.

I imagine the first week or two will be a bit of an adjustment -- on the practical end and on the emotional end.  Practically, I am gonna have to get us all out the door around 8:15-8:30, which is a change for us who've been used to lolly-gagging all morning long.  Plus, the new school doesn't provide lunch, so I'll be making lunches each day too.  Blergh.  Emotionally, Caleb will cry each day, for sure; Norah will likely be cool with everything for a week or so and then have a complete meltdown once she realizes this new school is for good; and I will most likely cry in my car after dropping them off for the first week or so -- but then we'll all get settled and I think the year will go smoothly.

So that's what's on my mind today.

One bright, shiny thing to look forward to, however, is that with my new schedule and more time each day on campus, I have more time to run.  Granted, that'll mostly be treadmill running, but hey, running is running!  And, I need the running.  This week, I'm gonna top out at less than 30 miles for the week, and I can tell that my brain has gone soft on me: I've been making all kinds of emotionally charged decisions the past few days that have been questionable.  If I were running more this week, I might've just run past those thoughts; instead, I went ahead and expressed them.

Definitely need more running.

Keepin' the Streak Alive

Tuesday night, I went to bed feeling fine, but around 4 am Wednesday morning, I woke feeling nauseous.  I spent the next few hours in the bathroom -- it was both pukey and poopy.  Thankfully, Jerry was able to take the morning off work to be with the kids while I loaded up on Immodium and Advil and got some extra sleep.

Around 10 am, I declared that I felt "good enough" and he could go to work.  He promised to be home early, and what followed were, quite possibly, the longest 6 hours of my life.

I tried my best to muster what little energy I had for the kids, but mostly I just laid around and let them bounce on my head.  Nap time helped, but it was still a challenging day.

But, all day long the one question that kept circling through my brain was: To run or not to run?

At times, I felt okay and I figured I could do it.  1 mile, that's all I had to do to keep the streak, and as I said, at times, I felt like I would be able to do that.  Other times, when I lay splayed out on the floor while the kids ran around me like wild banshees, I thought: No way, it's not gonna happen; I'll barf my guts out and die.

Eventually, I ate a little something for dinner and that helped.  Then, Caleb went to bed and I had my decision to make -- run or not.

I ran.

I eeked out just a wee bit more than the bare minimum: 1.15 miles and it took me 12:24 to do so.  But I did it, and I didn't barf and I didn't die.

Streak: Still on!

Afterwards, I showered and then promptly went to bed.  It was 7 pm.

This morning, after nearly 12 solid hours of sleep, I feel fine.  Whatever I had seems to have run its course, and today is my last day "off."  So, first thing, I got out for my run.  I was tempted to try and go long to make up for some of yesterday's "lost" miles, but in the end, I decided it was probably wise to just keep it short.  I barely ate anything yesterday, and the after-effects of being sick always leaves me somewhat fatigued; probably best not to push myself too much.

So I did a 3 miler -- slow and easy -- and I have simply resigned myself to the fact that this week's mileage is not going to be what I had hoped it would: Even after Tuesday's epic mileage.

That's okay.  Sick happens, and for me, it seems to happen all too often -- I seem to pick up stomach bugs every few months.  I guess my immune system is less like Chuck Norris and more like Urkel. 

Triple Tuesday

I've never pulled off 3 runs in one day before, but today, I did.  Here's the RUN down:

Run #1: 5 miles
Today was another of my blessed days off -- no work, no kids -- so after bidding "adieux" to the kidlets, I dillied and dallied some and then finally got out the door for my run.  It was 8 am, and steamy as all hell.

Unfortunately, my 5 mile route has very little shade this time of day, and I was a hot mess when I got done.  I swear, every drop of sweat I had in body was sweated out on this one!

Run #2: 4.4 miles
After I had gotten my day's tasks done (house cleaning and errands, which sounds sucky for a day off, but actually, without the kiddos around, it's something I look forward to), it was 2 pm, and I figured, hey, why not run?

I felt great, but at mile 3, the weather had another plan for me.  At first, it just started to sprinkle, but then it started to drizzle -- which, in case you're wondering, the technical difference between a sprinkle and a drizzle is the volume of rain: a sprinkle is a drop here and there, a drizzle is a steady, light rain, you're welcome: continue on -- I figured, "Eh, what's a little rain?  I'm already sweaty."

But, then I saw a flash of lightning and heard a crack of nearby thunder that made my heart leap into the back of my throat and hug my tongue for comfort. 

I ran as fast as my little legs could go for that last mile, but I was already sloshing through ankle deep puddles (that's how tropical rain works: one minute it's a drizzle, the next it's a downpour) so the going was slower than I would've liked considering the lightning.

I don't mess around with lightning.

Run #3: 3.7 miles
I was a little disappointed that my afternoon run had been cut short by rain, so after dinner and after Caleb was in bed, I went back out for one, last round.  I figured I'd round off the day by running 3.6, but a slight route miscalculation had me run 3.7, which is actually perfect, because you know what that brought the day's total mileage to?

13.1!

That's right.  A half marathon on a Tuesday.  Not too shabby.

Norah's Birthday Party

Today was THE hotly anticipated day of the summer -- for Norah, that is -- her birthday party!

We had it at a local pool, which has a splash area with slides and sprays, so in short: Loads of sun and water fun.

Here's Norah and Caleb:

Norah was joined by lots of her friends (for a "Princess Pool Party," she had a lot of boys in attendance: 8 boys to the 3 girls), and she had an absolute blast swimming, running, sliding, and splashing with all of her friends.

Her favorite moment, though, was the cake and everyone singing "Happy Birthday" to her.  Here's her cake:

And blowing out the candle, with Miller in the background, clearly impressed by her candle-blowing-skillz:

She enjoyed her cake, and like always, mainly just ate frosting:

It was a great time, and Norah is a lucky girl to have such wonderful, generous friends: Thanks everybody!

When we got home, it was nap time, and everyone in this house crashed -- and the weather timed itself nicely since we had some serious thunderstorms during the afternoon: Excellent napping weather!  After nap, we played with all of her gifts, which was a little overwhelming, had dinner, and then the day was pretty much done.

It wore us all out. 

Here's Caleb in bed:

It's not a great pic (his line up of nooks look nice, don't they?), but to do any better, I might've woken him, and lord knows that's the cardinal sin of parenting, but with his legs hanging out the slats of his crib, arms flapped open to the side -- it gives an image to the exhaustion I think we all feel after such a busy, fun-filled day.

And, even though I'm not yet passed out spread-eagle-style ala Caleb, I definitely feel as though I should be: Thus, I chose to cut my run short this evening.  3 miles instead of 6.  So, I only totaled 42 miles for my week instead of 45.  I'm not too upset about it.  Hosting a 3 year old's birthday party felt like I ran a marathon, so the fact that I did 3 miles is SOMEthing!

Norah's 3rd Birthday

Today, we started Norah's birthday off with a visit to the doctor for her 3 year old check up.  She impressed us all by being really good: No crying, no fussing, no squirming, no whining, nuthin but goodness.  It was a moment to make a parent proud.  If only all our parenting moments could be like that!

After the dr. appointment, we went to the park for some water and playground fun.  Norah ran around like a crazy person:

And, she was super happy to have her dad take the day off so he could assist on all the play equipment mom is too short for.  But, seriously, that is for kids like twice (or 3X) her age.  This girl know NO fear.

After the park, we had lunch and then we all took a nice long nap -- birthday gift for Mom and Dad! -- and after nap, it was present time!  She got some good loot!

We played with her birthday gifts for the rest fo the afternoon/early evening and then it was dinner time.  Her request: What else?  Mussels!

Caleb gave 'em a go too and they were Caleb-approved: He loved them!  We have the weirdest kids.

After dinner, we had the birthday cupcakes, and the moment Norah had truly been waiting for: The singing of "Happy Birthday" and her chance to blow out a candle.

Caleb loved those too (and, goodness, I hate how the flash makes that ball of light off the wall!  maybe if I knew more about how my camera works, I could fix that...hmmmm...that would take time, wouldn't it?) as is demonstrated by his frosting goatee:

And, here's the birthday girl enjoy hers:  Frosting only, please!

It was a fun family birthday, but what Norah is REALLY excited for is her birthday party on Sunday (it's a bit confusing for kids her age to have her b-day one day and the party another).  She's having a pool party with all of her friends, and it's shaping up to be EPIC! 

For now, she crashed out in true birthday style: She told us in her best whiny 3 year old voice that she was NOT tired!  Then, she was asleep about 5 minutes later.

As for me, I ran 6 miles tonight fully fueld by the frosting on those cupcakes...wowza...that's a lot of sugar to process!  I'm pretty sure that by eating just one, I narrowly avoided diabetes.

Happy Birthday Norah!

Happy 3rd Birthday, Norah!  My wish for you is that you always have the same charm, energy, self-confidence, curiosity, intelligence, bravery, sweetness, generosity, and beauty of your 3 year old self!

Love,

Mom, Dad, Caleb, and Scooter

7 Miler, aka "Sweatfest 2012"

Today, I am enjoying a rare opportunity: The kids are at school and I am not!  Glorious.  Simply glorious.

So, I wanted to get the day started on the right foot -- pun, totally intended -- by getting my day's run done.  Going in to it, I wasn't feeling it.  I don't know if it's the season (so dang hot out!), the streak (day #40 today), my current efforts with building mileage, or hormones, or a combo thereof, but I just felt like I was dragging myself out there.

I bargained with myself that instead of doing the 7 I'd planned, I could just do 3-4 and make today a "rest" day, but I had to get out and do something.  Thankfully, as is almost always the case, even when I'm tired, a mile or 2 into the run, I felt good and I knew I could go forth and do the full 7 I had planned.

But, lordy, it wasn't without effort.  It was so frickin' hot out there and SO effing humid that I just slogged through the run.  Or, swam.  Whatev.  There was no breeze and the air was THICK. 

I took it uber-slow and just ran through that sauna for 7 miles.

When I got home, I was absolutely soaked in sweat.  SOAKED.  Sports bra?  Soaked.  Shorts?  Dripping.  Socks and shoes?  Squishing.

Shark farts!  It. was. gross.

However, the great part of this story returns to what I started with: No kids at home!  So after a cool shower, I turned on the fan in the bedroom and laid down for 30 minutes -- relishing the cool and the quiet of being able to relax and recover from a run in this way.

Now, I'm off for the day's true reward: A day-date with Jerry!  We have some errands to run, and then we're going out to lunch and then we're going to see "Batman"! 

Kidisms

These rascals are always up to something.  Here's a random recap of recent kid-happenings:

Norah has been loving the crafting lately.  Principally, she is infatuated with gluing stuff and cutting stuff:

So, it was only a matter of time before she took her safety scissors and gave Caleb a little haircut.

Thankfully, his hair is so fine, it's unnoticeable.   Next up, I'm sure he'll get glued to the floor.

Speaking of Caleb, he's at THAT age wherein everything that's not a toy is a toy:

He's opening everything he can, dumping out anything he can, throwing things that are NOT trash into the trash, and taking what IS trash out of the trash.  Plus, he's climbing.  It's a joy.

Back to his sister: Norah's birthday is on Friday, and it's something she's been talking about for...oh...about 6 months now.  The other day in the car, Jerry asked her: "How old are you gonna be on your birthday?" 

She replied, correctly, with: "3!" 

And he followed up with, "3 and sassy, right?" 

Her: "NO!  I am NOT sassy!" 

No, no, of course not.

This morning, Caleb was biting the chair in the living room (also part of the joys of his age: the intro to hitting and biting).  I told him to stop biting the chair.  Norah piped up with: "No, Caleb, we don't bite chairs.  We only bite food."  Then, she paused and continued with: "And, sometimes each other."

Yesterday afternoon, Norah was putting some change in her piggy bank, with Caleb assisting.  Jerry and I were in the other room, and we heard a CRASH!  Piggy pieces everywhere; coins scattered.  Norah was near tears. 

Caleb was just trying to gobble up as much change as he could.  I assume he'll poop those pennies out sometime this afternoon...

And, speaking of money.  On Monday, I was in the kitchen and he comes toddling in holding a $1.  Assuming he'd been riffling through my purse, I take the $1 from him and go find what I was sure was going to be a disassembled purse.  But, surprisingly, my purse was intact.  Huh.  I had no clue where he'd gotten that money from, but I shrugged, put the $1 in my wallet and went back to making dinner.  A bit later, he comes in the kitchen again; this time, he's got a $1 in each fist!

WTF?  Did he find a secret money stash?  And, if so, are there $20s in there?

Turns out, he'd found some loot stowed in one of Norah's purses.  Where she'd squirreled that money from, I have no idea.  But I can tell you this: I am now $5 richer!

Lastly, and perhaps most hilarious:  Over the weekend, one day, Jerry farted.  (Not that that's news: Our house suffers from serious air pollution because of his foul ass.)  But, this was a serious fart -- a loud, rumbly one -- and Norah (who thinks farts are pretty much the funniest thing in existence, which, c'mon, they ARE funny) laughs and says:

"Whoa, Daddy!  We're gonna have to check your underwear!"

Running is Fun

Some of you may have already seen this pic floating about the interweb, but it's something I'm reminded of almost everyday. 

By this kid in particular:

But this one sees the fun his sister is having running around, and he looks pretty stoked to get his own little legs moving at those speeds:

I don't know why we lose that joy as we get older (if only that kid juice could be squeezed out of them and made into an energy drink, right?), but when I look at these two, I'm reminded how lucky I am to get the chance each day to reap the same joy.

6 miles today: The 45 mile week is off to its solid start!

And 4 Makes 40

Because I ran 6 days of 6 milers, all I had to do today was a 4 miler, and good thing too because I wasn't feeling much like running.

Sundays are always a struggle for me to want to run.  For some reason, I often want to skip Sunday and just do nuthin'.  But, that's the lovely thing about a streak: There is no rest.  And, for me, that's part of the appeal of streaking -- once I get into the groove of it, I don't want to stop.

Anyway, I got my 4 miler done: It wasn't the best run of the week, but halfway through, I started to enjoy it, and as always, when I finished, I felt good.

So, 40 miles are in the books for the week.

Now, on to this week's mileage challenge: 45 miles!

A Tale of Two Runs

Part 1
Normally, on Saturday mornings, Jerry takes the kids to the grocery store and I run.  But, last week, things didn't go all that well and Jerry declared that he was done taking both of them (or, at least, he needs a break from bringing both) and he said he was gonna alternate one and the other.  This is fine. 

So, this morning, we'd decided that Norah was going to go with Jerry to the store, and Caleb was going to join me for a short run.  Everyone was fine with this arrangement until we were all heading out the door and it fully dawned on Norah that Caleb was coming with me.

She threw a fit.  Screaming and crying that she didn't want to go to the store; she wanted to go with me.  After initially trying to reason with her, I said that we could trade (Caleb didn't care one way or another) and she could come ride with me on the run and Caleb would go with Daddy.  She was cool with this until, again, it fully dawned on her that she'd be going with me, but Caleb would get to be going with Daddy.

The grass is always greener, right?

At this point, they were already driving away and she was strapped into the BOB, and holy lord, it was Hurricane Norah 2012.  She was screaming and flailing and bucking in the stroller like a mad person.

And, I totally lost my cool with her.  Let's just say there was some screaming on my part as well.  I'm not proud of myself for dissolving into the same level of hysterics as a 3 year old.  But, I did.

For about mile then, I ran and she cried.  I passed some strangers who most assuredly wondered what kind of cruel mother I was for forcing my child into a stroller and keeping her prisoner there, but too bad, I didn't care.  I was fuming -- at her -- but mostly with myself.

Nothing makes you feel like a bigger failure at life than a major parenting fail, and I was frustrated and angry with how I had reacted to her tantrum.  I could see, in retrospect, exactly where the entire chain of events should've been rewound and done differently, but alas, in parenting, as in life, there is no rewind.

After a mile, she stopped crying and after a few pleading requests for me to take her to the store "to see Daddy," she piped down altogether and I ran and she rode in silence.  I think it was good we were running: It gave us both a chance to cool off and recollect ourselves.

And, at the end of the 3 miler, as a peace offering, I let her out of the stroller so she could run the last .2 of the run.  We went at a 15 min/mile pace, but I didn't care.  In those few minutes of the run, we'd made up.

Part 2
This evening, after Caleb had gone to bed and Norah was settling in with Jerry for her evening TV time, I got to get back out for a solo run.  It was a quiet, uneventful 3 miles, and I was thankful for such peace and solitude.