We paced a zebra.

As we drove toward the race site yesterday morning, I told the girls about an article I read that claims to help runners get through their first 5K.

Me: So, when you travel under the Start sign, you visualize Yellow. Yellow is a smooth start. Taking it slow. Feeling out your surroundings. Maybe choosing a person you want to sort of stick with during the race. When you reach the 1K mark, you picture Pink. You’re catching your groove. You’re maybe moving a little faster. It’s okay to walk. It’s okay to run. You’re starting to be In It. At the 2K mark, you’re at Orange. You’re starting to think about goals. You’re figuring out where the water station is. You’re keeping an eye on that person you chose as your pace partner. IT’S STILL OKAY TO WALK. You’re reaching the halfway point. All is well. At 3K, you’re Red. Red will take you through the final tw0 kilometers. You’re focused. You’re determined. You’re winning this thing even if you’re not technically Winning This Thing. IT’S STILL OKAY TO WALK. When you finally see the finish line? Picture FIRE. Throw your arms up into the air and take the finish line like a champion, because that’s the winning photo finish that everyone deserves!!! And then you can NEVER say that you’ve never done a 5K.

The girls were in. Totally in. (It also helped that I promised a hot chocolate drive-thru after the race. Hot chocolate motivates more than creative visualization when you’re nine. I’m cool with that.)

Shortly after starting the race (Yellow!) and finding an open area to get going, Meredith asked the question of the day.

Meredith: Okay! Okay! Yellow! Okay! How many Ks in are we?

Me: According to my GPS thing, we’re 0.37 of a K in.

Meredith: So we’re done with 3 Ks?

Me: No. We’re not quite halfway into the first K.

Meredith’s friend: HOT CHOCOLATE!!!

We ran more than we walked, and I’m pleased to report that walking was always their idea. (I was so afraid that I would slow them down. I didn’t want to affect their race, and I especially didn’t want to ask them to walk when they felt like running! Confession: I was really nervous about this.) We ran, we drank water, we walked, we always kept the zebra in our zone, and when we saw the finish line, we felt Fire.

After the race, as we walked back to the car…

Meredith: Mom, in the sunlight, your hair is orange.

Me: What?!

Meredith: Your hair is orange. What does that mean?

Me: It means I shouldn’t have gone with Dark Chocolate Brown just because they were out of Natural Black! Argh!

(Sometimes I use links when I’m talking to my kids so they can catch all of my drifts.)

Meredith: Put your hat back on.

Meredith’s friend: HOT CHOCOLATE!

Meredith keeps me laughing. Meredith keeps me sane. Meredith prevents me from looking like an unintentional Carrot Top. She’s a good egg.

Untitled ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

That’s right. Doughnuts.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll be getting up at 5:00 to drink coffee and eat a banana.

At approximately 6:20, Meredith and I will be leaving the house to pick up two of her friends.

We will then meet up with their Girls on the Run group for the girls’ very first 5K.

It will be 37 degrees Fahrenheit, and that’s 2.78 Celsius, and that’s cold. I just put my clothes out. From the top down and outside in, I’ll be wearing a hat (the twin to the hat I made for Bruce Springsteen), a jacket, a long sleeved shirt, an undershirt, a sports bra, running shorts, running capris, underpants, my knee brace, my running shoes, my running socks, and my ankle brace.

Here we go again! (Meredith and I are running a 5K together on Saturday.)

When we return to the house after the race, there will be doughnuts waiting for us. Specifically, vanilla long johns. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. I’ve never balanced a spoon on my nose.

Hey! Can I talk a little more about running for a second?

(Actually, it’s going to go deeper than running. Stick with me for a minute or two.)

I go to the lake twice each week for a run. If you run around the lake, you score 5.7 kilometers, meaning The Lake is The Perfect Size.

I tend to park near the blue trashcan across from the canoe rentals, and I travel counterclockwise. This means I spend the first ten minutes or so running between a beach and a road. (In my opinion, this is the ugliest part of the path.)

Wait. So, here is the ugliest part of the lake. And it’s gorgeous. And I don’t even USE the word gorgeous.

Creve Coeur Lake

(I took that photo today while trying to figure out how to do the panorama thing on my phone.)

When I reach the first bridge, I know the roughest part of the run is over. (The first ten minutes always suck. I spend every one of those minutes trying to talk myself into quitting. It’s horrible.) As I pass by trees on the left and soccer fields on the right, I know I’m nearing the halfway point. When I’m surrounded by trees on both sides, the rest is gravy. (AND, by Gravy, I mean I have only three or four more songs before I run under the highway overpass.)

I know I’ve shared this photo before, but just for the sake of taking you with me, THIS is where everything becomes gravy.

Untitled

(I can’t even look at that photo without getting all smiley and Zen-like.)

As soon as the highway overpass is in sight, I tend to have about two minutes left to run, so I kick it into Haul Ass mode to see how far I can get (normally a tiny bit past the second foot bridge) before the run is over and the cool down begins. But wait. Before we finish out the run, let’s talk about that overpass.

Go here to see what it looks like. When I’m running at the lake, I have to travel under that overpass twice. Every time I’m running or walking under the overpass, I picture a car flying off of the edge and either crashing into me, or crashing into the lake. I wonder how I would handle either dying or having to jerk into disaster relief mode. I picture myself going up in flames. I picture my family having to deal with me as a sack of broken bones. I think about life insurance. I think about that time when I burned my finger on a pot of cream of asparagus soup and I think about how being burnt from the flames coming off of an exploding car would hurt SO much worse than that soup, and that soup HURT. (The soup incident occurred over two decades ago, and I still flinch when I think of it.)

I’ve probably experienced high doses of semi-irrational fears at least forty times while passing under the overpass. As soon as I’m back into the woods, my fears are extinguished and I’m once again all la la laaaahhhhh because it looks like this:

Someday I'm going to make a sharp right and run like a cheetah into the woods. I'll then camp out for three days, knowing that the nearest Chinese buffet is less than two miles away. Alexander Supertramp.

Last night a four passenger plane fell out of the sky and crashed into the lake. In other words, it doesn’t matter WHERE you are. A car could fall off of a bridge. A plane could fall out of the sky. Wild bears. Hunger Games.

This morning I spent my entire run thinking about the pilot of that plane and his wife and his family and how life can be and often is entirely too short and then I ran a little faster and then I slowed down and when I reached the overpass I was about eighteen items into a mental list I was making of all the things I still haven’t done and some of those things are basic, like “figure out liquid eyeliner” and some of them are a little more substantial, like “stop apologizing for everything.” And then there’s “Paris!” and “Rid your life of Stuff!” and “Pet a dolphin!” and “Make sure your kids are having some fun Every Single Day.”

I’ve never tried yucca chips.

I’ve never written a short story.

I’ve never learned how to cut paper dolls.

I’ve never woken my kids up in the middle of the night just to watch the snow fall.

Untitled

A plane falls out of the sky, and I’m shaken and stirred. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

It’s beginning to look a lot like expensive rubber devil babies!

The girls had the day off from school, so we spent the morning listening to Christmas music and baking cinnamon rolls. (The kind that come in a can.) Because I’m one of those annoying jerks who always announces what they’re doing on Facebook, I soon learned that my friend Mitzi was also baking cinnamon rolls. These cinnamon rolls. As soon as she shared that link, my synapses began to fire differently, and now I can’t stop thinking about pumpkin cinnamon rolls.

The girls and I had lunch with my parents, and when we left the restaurant, our car was one bag of dried apricots heavier than it was when we had left the house. My life is a good one.

I got my hair cut. It’s a little too short, but that means I can probably get through Christmas without having to drop more money on a haircut. I win.

Oh. I bought this for you.

Untitled

It’s name is Ugly Irisless Rubber Neon-Nipple Devil Baby and it wants to swallow your soul. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I wasn’t looking forward to walking back to the car.

Today was supposed to be the day where students gather in designated places around the community and walk to school. Sadly, Walk to School Day was rained out.

Harper: I’m pissed.

(She didn’t really say that. But I could tell she was feeling it.)

Me: Harper, I say we grab our umbrellas, park a mile away from school, and have our OWN Walk to School Day!

Harper: No.

Me: Yes! I’ll carry your backpack and your lunchbox! We’ll have fun! Let’s go!

Harper: No.

Me: Really?

Harper: I said no.

Me: Okay.

Instead, we parked in the drop off line (we were gold medalists!), ate apple slices, and cranked Fun. AND, for the first time ever, I didn’t stress out and mute all of the bad words (Just the F word. I know.).

(Harper and I like Fun, Maroon 5, and Taylor Swift. With that said, the soundtrack from Newsies will always be our jam.) ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

October 22nd has less than three hours remaining.

I dropped the kids off this morning and drove straight out to the lake for a run.

The Art of Racing in the Rain

The sky was looking a little bleak, but I had checked the radar and everything seemed to be okay. When I got about halfway around the lake, the thunder started in. A few minutes later, it POURED down rain. During my run, I had been passing and being passed by a woman who is about my age and about my size. When the rain started, she FLEW past me. I picked up my pace as much as I could, but I am seriously not very good at this running thing. A few minutes later, I reached the bridge. My competition was sitting under the bridge waiting out the rain. And, yes. That was probably the smart thing to do, but This Was A Race. (To me. And to her, although she probably wouldn’t admit it. She’s shifty like that. In my mind.) Instead of chilling out under the bridge, I decided to fly past her to show her that I’m stouthearted with the endurance of a kangaroo. (Did you know that kangaroos can hop nonstop for twenty miles, and each hop is fifteen to twenty feet long?! I just looked it up!)

I made it back to my car as quickly as I could. Victorious. And drippy. And with the biggest forehead you have ever seen.

Homely Wet T-Shirt Contest

After showering, eating a baked sweet potato, and making a trip to the grocery store for dinner supplies, I found myself in the school pick-up line with this on my leg.

My Favorite

(They’re vegan. And delicious. They’re not as good as my father’s Snickerdoodles, but they come (sort of) close.)

Tonight? Sadly, I had to do this.

Pills!

Last month I had a headache that lasted 17 days. Today is the 15th day of this particular headache. Tomorrow I’m going to make some calls to check into massage and acupuncture.

I hope you enjoyed your Monday. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

204 words still counts.

So, it looks like I need someone to move into our house and make fun of me every time I eat a handful of chocolate chips. It’s getting ridiculous.

Actually, let’s not even talk about it.

We topped off our anniversary weekend by taking the girls to see Frankenweenie. The girls loved it, and I cried like a baby. Success.

After the movie, the girls and I walked around the subdivision to pick up an Avon order. On the way back to our house, Christy gave us some of her amazing soap, as well as the inspiration to bake something. (I’m not sure what just yet. But something. Maybe from the vegan cookie book. Hrm. Go back up and read the first sentence of this entry. I’ll wait right here.)

This is my winter coat. It was an anniversary gift from Jeff, it will be arriving in the next few days, and if it doesn’t fit, you’ll see me go rancid.

I’m cranky this evening. My left leg is messed up, I ate cereal and corn chips for dinner, and I’m 0/3 with the things I wanted to accomplish today. I know it could be much worse. So much worse. Know that I know that. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

I can’t believe it’s not butter.

I wonder if the day will ever come when I think this card will work.

Untitled

(That is not a biscuit.)

Similarly:

Untitled

I almost purchased this card just so I could take it out to the parking lot and rip it into tiny pieces (which I would later recycle because I love the earth almost as much as I love honey).

Untitled

This one did me in. Someday comma we’ll be a cute old couple period sitting on a park bench comma holding hands just because period until then ellipses… Don’t even get me started on the photo.

Untitled

Do you remember way back in 2003 when my friend and I were considering starting up a greeting card business? Perhaps it’s time to revisit our business plan.

The Pudding Family spent the morning doing this:

Untitled

And our evening was filled with this:

Untitled

According to my calendar, it’s Sweetest Day. Jeff is the butter to my biscuits. Plural. Because I have more than one biscuit, and he is the butter for each of them. Googly eyeballs.

I’ll see you tomorrow. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

A year is just a drop in time.

Eleven years ago today was my final day as a Not Married.

Every year on this day, I leave my wedding ring in the jewelry box and wear only my engagement ring (and clothes, obviously). I then drop the girls off at school and head straight to the bars bedecked in a tiara and an LED male private part necklace. The necklace doubles as a straw, and I use it to suck down cocktails with questionable names. I dance and drink (and then drink some more because Baptists generally don’t dance), and suddenly I have no idea where I live and where did this ham sandwich come from? By 3:15, I’m all back to normal and ready to pick the girls up from school.

Ah, but today is a half day for the girls, and Meredith has a Staying Home Alone class to attend, and Harper needs to figure out a Halloween costume, and we’re out of dog food and apples! The necklace and tiara will have to wait in the drawer until 2013.

(Eleven years ago last night, I sat in a restaurant with my family and got caught up in a web of confusing underpants.)

I have no idea what this is.

This is my favorite time of year.

Wait. One more memory. Eleven years ago Right Now Jeff and I were sitting in the church parking lot (it was time to hang tulle and lights), listening to this song and not saying a word.

That was 4,018 days ago. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>