Stronger, faster than ever before!

From the lowest low, to the highest high… It seems so surreal that this morning started out so miserably. I mean, seriously – why in the world do races have to start when it’s dark out? Who wants to get up at 5:30 a.m.? Not this girl. But I did, just so I could get dressed and squeeze in a nebulizer treatment because my asthma decided to flare up yesterday. Yes asthma on top of my bronchitis – not a good way to head into a race.

Plus, did I mention how cold it was? A balmy 36 degrees this morning. That is not very warm when all you have on is running pants, a 3/4-sleeve running shirt, and a snazzy running jacket. Luckily, the shuttle bus didn’t take too long to pick us up and the lines for the Adult 5k (you, with the jokes, shoosh) were non-existent. That gave us plenty of time to find the Starbucks across the street and sardine ourselves in for warmth. Thank goodness the Fire Department hotties were looking the other way because I know that Starbucks was past maximum capacity. Crisanna and I stayed there for an hour (guess we can leave later next year), complaining about the early hour and the cold, until we decided it was time to find the start line.

Heh – there is a reason I don’t wing things people. I am bad at the winging. Because you know how most of the fun of races and big gatherings and whatnot is the people watching? Yeah, for a good part of this morning, we were the people-watchees, not the people-watchers. We got lost trying to find the start line. Twice. I think we walked a good mile, mile-and-a-half first trying to find Commerce Street and then just following random people with green numbers pinned to their shirts. Finally we found a gaggle of people who seemed to know where they were going…which was coincidentally the opposite direction from where we had been headed.

Once we got going though – ohmygosh, what a rush! It took me a minute, but I found my pace and kept it pretty consistently, I think. It was much harder in the beginning because there were a bunch of kids running with us and lord were they insane. Thankfully, I have a built-in child-avoidance-system so I was able to nimbly dash around and jump out of the way in the nick of time. I did see one kid wipe out across the hood of a car…or kind of more like he clipped the fender and went sailing. I saw another kid panic when he thought he lost his family and that almost made me stop, but the parentals found him right away. But that was all at the start of the race and I kinda just lost everything after that. I was much too busy dodging people and keeping pace and figuring out who to pass and how to maneuver myself to think much about the running.

You know what was odd? Everyone told me I would be fine, that the adrenaline would kick in and I would surprise myself. And I did. I kept looking for mile markers, but didn’t see them, only it never seemed to bother me because I never felt any pain. I never felt fatigued. I was much too busy people-dodging and strategizing to get bored or think about where I was. There was that one tricky part where the race route takes you back towards the heart of downtown, right near the finish line, and I remember thinking that I shouldn’t get excited because I remembered the route having a fake-out: it twists out and away before looping you back. But I thought to myself that maybe I had just missed it since I hadn’t been paying attention. So I sped up and started passing people…only to find the course curving to the left just as I had remembered it. Ooops. But still I didn’t feel the burn and somehow had energy to go full out for the last quarter mile. I passed people left and right and felt wonderful (and rather muppet-ish) crossing the finish line at full speed.

It was the most awesome experience I’ve had in such a long time.

I am so happy proud of myself for making a plan and sticking to it. Despite the cold. Despite my health issues. I am a rock star, yo. And apparently everyone else recognizes that because Crisanna and I were stopped, randomly, to have our picture taken by…someone. It’s not very clear who. I even got flowers at…well, not the finish line, but close to it. AND, when we pulled in my driveway, a florist’s van pulled in behind me and I received a large and gorgeous bouquet of flowers from the very lovely Kathy! (THANK YOU, Kathy!!!)

All of you need to go sign up for races now, because you have got to get you some of this rock star feeling. It’s incredible!

I so totally win!!

A real recap is coming once I get a handle on the house and the kiddos and the usual Saturday stuff, but I had to pop online and say:

I DID IT!!!

The 5k was so easy and I had a blast! Okay, not with the waking up at 5:30 a.m. or the bitter cold this morning – but the running was fun. I will definitely post a recap later, but I wanted to give you a space to start celebrating me. (Oh, and if we could only pretend I was kidding. Heh.)

My Parenting 101 handbook doesn’t cover alien infestations.

This is only about the millionth time this has happened so far in my parenting career: I’m not exactly sure what to do. Gracie may – or may not – be suffering from some medical mystery, nervous condition, stomach bug, dislike for school, or alien lifeform. Or perhaps karmic coincidence; you know, being my child and all.

Here’s the deal: at the beginning of the month, the school nurse called and said that Gracie had been sick all over the place (ewwwww) and would need to be picked up from school. I was getting ready for a huge meeting at ThePlaceThatShallNotBeNamed and I had just spent a day home with Bee. So I impulsively called the Ex (who had visitation that night anyway) and asked him if he could get her from school. When he dropped the girls off that night, he said that Gracie had just picked at her food, but other than that she had been fine. She was in good spirits, didn’t act sick, and – more importantly – didn’t get sick the rest of the day.

The next morning I woke her up and got her ready for school along with her sister. Gracie complained bitterly about how much her tummy hurt. She produced tears and warned that she was going to throw up. I didn’t know what to do; she certainly had thrown up all over the place the previous day, and I didn’t want the school to think I was one of those parents. On the other hand, she had raved about how much fun she had spending the day alone with her dad, so I was a little suspicious of her complaints. I decided to send her school. Big mistake. The school nurse called me less than an hour after Gracie had been dropped off and said she had been sick all over the hallway. That’s when I decided that the janitors and the nurse were getting giant gifts at the end of the year. I left work and collected my child. Gracie’s teacher suggested taking her to the doctor, but I could only imagine the scorn that would be rained down upon us: An upset tummy and no other symptoms? It’s just a stomach bug, stop bugging us with the easy stuff that even silly parents should know! The stomach bug was going around; I’d just keep her home unless and until a third round hit. Of course, Gracie was fine the rest of the day.

Two Thursdays ago, the day that Sars and Auntie Kim were supposed to arrive, the school nurse called me yet again. Gracie had been sick – yet again. And so I left work – yet again – to go collect her. Since it was practically blizzarding outside, I didn’t call her pediatrician, although I would have if the roads were drivable. She was fine the rest of the day (predictably) and that’s when I started wondering what sort of alien was living in her stomach. I also started thinking about less likely causes – food allergies, for one. Gracie said she had a hot dog for dinner, and I vaguely remembered serving hot dogs sometime around the first time she was sick, although I couldn’t be sure. I asked the Ex to hold off on any other hot dog dinners to see if that stopped the attacks. That’s when I found out that Gracie had been sick both nights that past weekend when she was at her dad’s – something he hadn’t bothered telling me. She hadn’t had hot dogs then. Or on Tuesday when she was sick at daycare right after I dropped her off (thankfully, this round she skipped being sick at school).

It did mean there was a pattern, though: Gracie seemed to be getting sick first thing in the morning. Sometimes just once, sometimes twice. It always seemed to end when she was picked up from school, but that could be coincidental if she just needed to get whatever it was out of her system.

It could be stress. I feel all of my stress through my stomach; during times of high stress, I pop Tums like candy. (Mmmm….wintergreen Tums.) Adding plausibility to this theory is the fact that Gracie asks to stay home from school on the days of the attacks and mentions that the boys – who are all on blue and red – tease her for being on green. It’s not the only time that story has surfaced, so I reiterate what we’ve discussed: that people get jealous and she is doing a great job to do what she knows is right and I ask her how proud she is of herself. She almost always smiles. Nevertheless, I emailed her teacher and asked if she knew of any reasons that Gracie could be stressed at school. Gracie is doing well academically and likes her teacher enough, so I didn’t think it was pressure in either of those general areas. Her teacher said nothing came to mind but that she would talk to her privately and see if Gracie mentioned anything.

It could be a food allergy that we haven’t uncovered yet. I started keeping a food log of what she’s eaten the 24-hours prior to all attacks. If things speed up, I’ll elevate it to a 24-7 food log, but that is a lot of work that might turn out to be unnecessary. She’s worth it, but have you seen my To-Do list?!

The theory I’m leaning towards is this one: it could be because of her allergies and head colds. Gracie is congested a lot of the time. It’s winter-cold season and the child unfortunately has inherited her mama’s wicked seasonal year-long allergies. Dr. Google and many others have advised that it’s not uncommon for young children to experience post-nasal drip all night, and then for their delicate little stomachs to violently evict all of that gunk when they wake up in the morning. I’ve heard this happens more frequently if the child drinks milk right after waking; Gracie usually rejects anything to eat or drink of she’s feeling icky, but the rest of the theory seems to fit. Once she’s sick, she’s fine. That lines up perfectly with this diagnosis.

Of course, it could still be an alien lifeform trying to make some room for itself. I haven’t quite ruled that out.

Lovin’ the new me.

Last night was my last run before The Big Race. I can’t believe it’s time, that Race Day is already here! On the other hand, it feels like I’ve been training forever. To think that when I started running, I could barely last 30 seconds before I stopped and I didn’t even have the arm strength to hold my hands up in a runner’s stance for thirty minutes. Now I can run 3.2 miles. When I started training, it was 102 degrees outside. The morning of the race, the temperature is supposed to be 37 degrees. (I would complain, but it’s a sunshiney day sandwiched between two rainy days, so I hate to push my luck. I’ll take 37 degrees if I can stay dry.)

Oh god. 3.2 miles? In 37 degree-weather? What have I done?!

Really, despite my momentary freakouts, I am so proud of myself. I feel so kickass when I’m running because I recognize how far I have come. I taught myself to do something hard, something I never thought I could do, something I didn’t even want to do. It makes me feel like I could train myself to do anything if I decided to really do it. Well, except modesty; I don’t think I could ever do that.

Two more days. Ohmygod!! Happy Love Thursday, everyone! May you all feel that sense of victory today, but hopefully with a little less of the freaking out.

Quote of the Day

After driving past a stinky, smelly skunk in the middle of the road.

Gracie: Mom, we can’t eat animals that are dead and lying on the road.

Good safety tip there, Gracie.

Neener-neener-neener!

For some reason, my sister was a little obsessed with collecting and counting her socks before she flew back home. She joked that she was going to take a picture of all of her socks neatly lined up with their mates next to her bag. But then the airline sort of destroyed her bag. The handles were shredded and melted and the top part of her bag was also shredded. No bueno, Batman. Thankfully (for the airline), none of her socks were damaged. See?

It's a cell phone picture, hence the pixelization. Or, as I call them, fuzzy socks. Heh.

Then she decided to show off that her earrings (most of which I have tried, at one time or another, to poach) were also all accounted for.

These should be mine. All mine!

My sister thinks she is soooooo sneaky, thwarting the Sock Bandit like that. But she should really think to count all of her valuables before she brags. Because she might be missing her favorite scarf.

Mwa ha ha!

Expect a note from the Scarf Bandit shortly.

This girl is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s.

Yes, I know it’s old, but the song was on when I was running yesterday afternoon and now I can’t get Gwen out of my head.

Yes – running. That’s why I’m slightly crazy: after I got back from the pharm, I put on my running shoes and went out for a run. For one, it was sixty-five degrees out! Who doesn’t love running in shorts and a t-shirt when a week ago there was a foot of snow on the ground. Alas, the high for today is a balmy 48 degrees, so when I checked it out yesterday I thought it would be better to run in the sunshine and humidity than in the wind and cold. Especially with my lung function compromised the way that it is.

Which brings me to my other point: I found it much easier breathing when I was running than I had at any other point yesterday. I was breathing effortlessly until mile 2.5 when the elephant showed back up and plonked himself back on my chest. I thought that was pretty good for a girl with bronchitis, and hopefully all the running will help get the gunk out faster. Anything to improve my chances for Saturday, I’m gonna do it.

But back to the 65 degrees (because it is lovely). Everyone was outside. My crazy neighbor Jimmy Buffet and his groupies were hanging out in his garage. My neighbor was outside with her daughter, showing off their new baby. A few houses down the teenaged boys were washing the truck. A neighbor kid was skateboarding off a homemade ramp. And dogs were everywhere. I was kind of surprised – not by the dogs because I hear them and see them all the time. What surprised me yesterday was the number of dogs running around unleashed. They were well-behaved dogs – I wasn’t rushed by a single one – but it made me realize how infrequently I see an unleashed dog these days. When I grew up, it was much stranger to see a dog hanging out in a yard while on a leash than it was to see a dog roaming the neighborhood with a pack of kids.

I immediately thought of running around my friend Denise’s neighborhood. I think the number of dogs almost outnumbered the kids – and that was saying something. There was Denise and her cousin Tony. Then there was Tony’s cousins – a boy older than us and a girl who was younger. Another girl in our class lived a street over. And there were many other kids in the neighborhood who I knew from hanging around with them, but never really knew where they came from or to whom they belonged. We would ride bikes around the neighborhood, climb trees, build forts, play hide and seek (the rules were we had to stay outside, though – no sneaking into houses), tag, capture the flag. All kinds of mayhem. Having the neighborhood dogs run about at our feet only increased the mayhem and the fun. Imagining all of that fun without the dogs makes it seem so…empty, somehow.

So I’m glad everyone was running amok and ignoring the leash laws yesterday – at least for the afternoon. I think everyone needed to get out in the sunshine and forget about winter and gross, hacking colds for awhile. Now if only someone could jack with the thermostat so it stays nice and warm through the weekend…

No time to be stuffy, sick, and exhausted.

This is it. T-minus one week. Just one week until race time. That is not very much time. Not at all. I’m getting nervous and for so many reasons.

Yesterday Crisanna, Kim and I headed downtown to walk the race route. Lemme tell ya – I don’t think those people know how to measure. That race route was long, yo. It was long and it was hilly. Well, not so much hilly as much as several streets being “on an incline.” I am going to die.

If the race route itself doesn’t kill me, it will be this cold that does me in. I started coughing on Tuesday. Then the cold moved from my chest up into my head. I told the cold that I didn’t think it was supposed to move backwards like that, but it didn’t listen to me. (Perhaps because I can’t get a sentence out without folding over in coughing spasms.) So I am sucking down water and chicken broth and popping mucinex and decongestants as quickly as I can with the hopes that my lungs will function properly on race day. I am tempted to go to the clinic and get some meds, but I have a feeling that this is just something viral that I need to wait out. Of course, the downside is that if it isn’t, I won’t know until race time.

To top it all off, my sister left me this morning to fend for myself. I have no one to divert my attention with funny stories, interesting statistics, and impromptu dancing in the middle of the living room. I do, however, have plenty of time to nap. So, I think I shall turn in and try to sleep off whatever this is. First I’ll lick this cold, then I’ll conquer downtown DFW, and then I’ll move on to choosing a new adventure. Or maybe I’ll just start looking for plane tickets to Philly. That seems much easier.

Guilty pleasures.

Even though my sister will be here until Sunday, this morning was the last time she will see the girls since they are spending the weekend at their dad’s. As a sort of bon voyage breakfast, I woke up early and made cinnamon rolls. It’s an unprecedented treat on weekday mornings – and one I’m sure to have to listen to for months, let me tell you. We do not eat sugar for breakfast at my house. In fact, the girls are offered two choices: cereal or yogurt. This morning was an indulgence in guilty pleasures for vacation’s sake.

What other guilty pleasures will I be indulging today?

• Leftover lemon ginger cookies for a snack.
• Leaving work at noon for no reason other than enjoying my sister’s company. (Hey, with two kids and myself to look after with only 12 sick days, this might be my biggest indulgence!)
• Treating myself to Starbucks this afternoon.
• Shopping for scrapbooking supplies (clearly an luxury and not a “need”).
• Going to an afternoon showing of Shutter Island.

Heaven only knows what we’ll do tonight, but I can assure you that I have several designated friends ready with bail money if it comes down to that. I hope their passports are up to date.

Because she lurrrrrrves me!

I have an extra special bonus Love Thursday post today, which is good because…well, when isn’t it good? Remember last week when my Love Thursday was all half-hearted and there was irony and symbolism flying all over the place? Well the lovely, lovely Gayle helped me out with that. She sent me a little reminder that all is not lost:

Isn’t she the sweetest? I would have received it on that very same Love Thursday but our snowstorm got in the way. So this post has been percolating since Friday. Thanks, Gayle – the beautiful “booktag” (as Gracie would call it) that you sent me will remind me not to give up hope.

Happy Love Thursday, everyone!