The Race

After nearly a month of suffering through a family-sized dose of the flu and the stomach virus, I am finally back.  What do I do to celebrate being able to live life again?  Well, three days after crawling out of my hole, I ran my yearly half-marathon this past Sunday.  This did not happen because I was feeling particularly fresh and prepared for a thirteen (point one) mile race.  It happened because I'm stubborn. I paid forty bucks for it back in October and gosh darn it, I was going to get my money's-worth whether or not somebody had to scrape me up off the finish line with a spatula for my trouble. 

And that is exactly the outcome I expected.  It had been weeks since I'd trained.  The illnesses left me with a nagging cough and weak digestion.  Family members shook their heads in bewilderment, wondering why I'd even want to run at this point.  I ignored them.  They are always bewildered over this race anyway.  Noodle even asked me recently, Why would you PAY MONEY to run?? I don't have much of an answer for her, either.  I just LIKE it, okay?

Because I really do like running.  But sometimes I need a goal.  Sometimes I look out the window on a freezing, drizzly morning and huddle deeper into my fleece pajamas, but then I get out on the trail because I've got that half-marathon comin' up. The idea of it keeps me going when the going gets tough.

But this race?

Plain ol' stubbornness.

I may have a smile on my face, but it's only because my kids are so darn cute running along beside me toward the finish line.  I think I'm only being held upright by spandex at this point.

My dear husband always takes pictures for me at the end.  A teensy part of me wishes he would get there closer to the beginning of the race and take pictures of me actually running instead of this shuffling I'm doing by this point.

Yay!  I'm done!!  I had a completely embarrassing worst time ever of two hours and forty-four minutes, but I'm so glad to be crossing the finish line that I can't even care about it.  My hips and knees feel like they have broken glass inside of them, and I'm pretty sure I left some of my toes back at mile nine, but woohoooo!!

I survived!!

Now somebody bring me some Advil.  I'll be in bed, huddling in my fleece pajamas.

Mobile Blogging, Sewing and Fall Gardens

As I was sitting on the floor in my living room sewing aprons and bonnets for my darling daughters' costumes, I meditated on why I never have enough time to blog as much as I want to. 

Well let's see, there's the fact that I have two kids, a husband, and a part time job.  There's the fact that I have an old house that needs lots of new paint. There's also the fact that, perhaps, I have way too many hobbies.  Everyone likes to have vegetable gardens, sew, knit, refinish and reupholster furniture, run, bake, photograph, craft, read and blog in their spare time, right? Back me up here friends.

Okay maybe I do need to cut out a few things. You know that book If You Give A Mouse A Cookie? My husband says it was written about me. I try to ignore him. I just like to do a lot of things!
So, in an effort to find ways to keep up with more of my favorite diversions, I've discovered I can do some of my hobbies at the same time! (Insert your eye roll here.)

For example, did you know you can read a book and knit at the same time? Granted, it helps if it's digital.  Also, don't be trying to knit anything complicated, like a sock, or you might end up with two left feet. But still, it can be done!  And also, right now I am sewing and blogging at the same time. What??  I discovered a mobile app for my phone while I was sitting and pondering a moment ago, and voila! Found the answer!  I stitch a little while I think of what to say. I type (or swype) a little while the iron heats up.

Being able to use my phone to blog especially appeals to me for two more reasons:
1. I always have my phone near me to take a photo or jot a note.  Big cameras and desktop computers are a little hard to fit in my pocket. (However, this does not mean I will be giving up these items...I just have more options!)
2.  I'm often out sitting at appointments or waiting on my children. Blog a little? Yay! Instant productivity for me!

So, in honor of my first multitasking mobile blogger test run, I will now

(hold on, gotta finish this gather stitch)

I will now satisfy the A.D.D. in me by taking photos of my fall garden and show them to you while sewing and blogging. Thank you for continuing, those of you I didn't lose back at the eye roll.

Carrots

Fava Beans

Bell Peppers.  They're feeling much happier
with those 90's outta here.

Radish.  Almost ready!

A few okra plants still going strong.
The rest, I pulled up to make room
for onions and garlic.

Kale

Lettuce

Eggplant, uh, tree?

A happy eggplant indeed!

Butternut squash 



Red cabbage

Collards

As you can see, my garden is also pretty busy, but I swear it's not my fault! My brother-in-law gave me way too many seeds! They were all just begging to be planted.  And really, who doesn't love to eat food they grew themselves? (Did I mention this is only a part of my garden?)

Well I think that this post has gone on long enough.  I have better things to do than sit around and show you vegetables. 

I'm thinking of taking up basketweaving, anyway.

Under...water.

Why I Don't Get Bored

Even if I knew what boredom was, there never seems to be a place for it in my life.  When I decided not to home school my kids this year, two people asked me, "Won't you get bored?"  My response bordered somewhere between a "HA!" and a "Ptthhhbbb!" (That's me laughing while trying not to laugh.)

If Boredom and I ever happen to meet, I let you know.  I'll shake it's hand and say, "Let's be friends," and invite it over to stay for a while.  Then, some of the stuff like what happened in my life during the past few weeks will stomp on its head and squish it out of existence.

Conclusion?  It is never boring around here.



Wednesday the 14th:
My 3-year-old brother, Teegan, throws up large amounts of blood and ends up at the local hospital.  He loses so much blood that he has to have a transfusion, IV fluids, and as he puts it, "Too many doctors!"  Our city is so po-dunk that we don't have a single pediatric gastroenterologist.  This means, in order to find out what's wrong with him, they have to put an endoscope down his throat, but there's no one qualified to do it. ("Huh?? Just get a smaller scope!" I think quietly many times over.)

I pack up my kids and spend the evening at my parent's house taking care of Tobi and Tabi while Mom and Dad are at the hospital.  Noodle spills her noodles all over the kitchen floor, Hopers spills her noodles on top of Noodle while Noodle is cleaning them up, and Tabi refuses to do her homework.  Tobi exclaims, "This is the best birthday ever!" while eating her noodles because, a., it actually is her birthday that day, and b., she is excited to have her "nieces" sleep over.

Thursday the 15th:
I get a call from Seth in the morning.  He forgot to bring his dress boots to work and there's a "thing" today so could I please please drive across town and bring them to him?  Sure, I say.  Oh, and can you bring me breakfast too?  Sure.

From the firestation, I head to the hospital to bring Mom some food, shampoo, and reinforcements (me) so that she can take a shower while I watch Teegan lay in the hospital bed watching Bob the Builder.

The hospital finally gets it together and decides to transport Teegan by ambulance to Jacksonville (where there is, apparently, a smaller scope and a doctor).

I gather my siblings again, this time to bring them to my house to stay.



Friday the 16th:
Today is Mom's birthday.  I was going to take her to lunch.  Instead she gets to spend it draped in over various pieces of furniture in Teegan's hospital room in Jacksonville while worrying about him.  Docs find two very unpleasant uclers in Teegan's stomach, cauterize them, and test them for bacteria.

I juggle getting four kids back and forth between two different elementary schools and also help out with Noodle's class (sorting papers) as I usually do on Fridays.

We spend the weekend going to approximately 36 birthday parties (because September is birthday crazy).  Mom, Dad, and Teegan come home from the hospital by Sunday afternoon.



Monday the 19th:
I realize I haven't run in forever and hit the Miccosukee Greenway trail with Poppy.  I attach my car key to the leash.  I discover, somewhere in between mile one and three that my key is no longer attached and I have to scour the trail for it.

I find it and decide that my sports bra is a much safer place to put it.



Tues the 20th:
I awake in bed this morning with a stinging, yet sore sensation on my pinkie toe.  There is a large bump.  A call to my sister and a few pictures from my cell confirm it:  I have a spider bite.

It hurts.

I limp.

I'd show you a picture of it, but I don't want to traumatize you.



Wednesday the 21st:
We finally, FINALLY put the rest of the painted doors back on the kitchen cabinets. Ahhh... it's so nice to have an almost finished kitchen.  At least there are no more doors laying around the house.

Seth's mother arrives from driving across the country from Idaho.  (Ah, now you see why the doors finally got finished!)

Thursday the 22nd:

My mother-in-law brings out the gifts.  Mine?  A Shark.  Sweet.  I will steam my floors into submission.

Noodle receives a snake.  It belonged to Seth's mom, but she decided to give it to Noodle to replace dear Sophie who (accidentally) left us to explore new lands when we moved.

Friday the 23rd:

Hopers falls asleep on the bus coming home from school.  Noodle gets off at the stop.  Hopers doesn't.  Seth has to chase the bus down to the next stop with the van and have the bus driver wake her up.  Hopers is a little traumatized, but otherwise survives.

Today:
I sit for a moment at my computer with my foot up on a pillow (horrible spider bite, remember?) and type this all out.  I take a deep breath. I will dive back into the chaos momentarily.

I think I'll type "momentarily" again, just to draw out the moment of peace.

Mo.....mennnnn...........tarrrrrrrr.....ily.



Oh.  There it goes.  Sorry, boredom, you can't come over to play at my house.

The Half Marathon

On Sunday, February 6th, I completed my first half marathon, the annual Tallahassee Half Marathon.  13.1 miles. Yay me!  The night before the race, this is how my conversation went with my nine-year-old daughter, Noodle:

Me:  Tomorrow is the day of the big race!

Noodle:  You're going to be in a race?  Like a real race?

Me:  Wellll...It's a real race, and I'll be racing against other people, I just won't really be trying to beat them.

Noodle:  Why wouldn't you try to beat them?  What's the point of that??


As it turns out, there was a truth to Noodle's point of view.  Hours later, I would be standing amongst the crowd of runners at the starting line, feeling the twinge of competitiveness growing in my bones.  I wanted to run fast.  I wanted to do well.  And oh, dear Lord, please don't let me be last.

At the starting line, we were separated into three groups according to our pace, with the fastest people in front, the medium speed people behind them, and the inchworms in the back.  I placed myself in the last group, feeling pretty realistic.  My friend, Angie, who had only recently healed a broken foot and was currently suffering from the flu, was also in that group next to me.  She gave me the "see ya later" wave as a shot fired off the start of the race.  I waved back and secretly hoped I could at least beat my sickly friend.

The runners began flowing down the FSU campus road like a disturbed anthill.  I stepped over the starting line with deliberance, quickly pondering how the whole "tag" system works.

These tags are given to each runner.  It has a chip inside it that registers your race time as you pass over the start and finish lines.  Most people tie them to their shoelaces.  I didn't have any, so I put it on my ankle with a rubber band.

Beginning the race was very exciting!  I was running fast and so was everyone else.  It was a cold clear morning, about 35 degrees.  We were winding a bit through the FSU campus before hitting the St. Marks Trail, then looping back to finish at the FSU Mike Long Track.  Not everyone was running a half marathon though, some would split off near our turn-around and take on the full marathon, circling through the Southwood community, and then returning to our path to finish in the same place.

About four miles into it, I warmed up enough to take my jacket and gloves off. (It was still quite cold, though.)  I tossed them to the side, along with all the other discarded clothing items from runners.  Apparently, volunteers collect them into a big pile after the race to either be donated or for you to search through for your lost things.  I donated.




Me, number 351, nearing the half-way turn-around.  I'm smiling because it hasn't gotten hard yet. 
Yet. 

I chatted with people along the way to pass the time.  There were people from everywhere in the U.S. and from all walks of life.  However, everyone I talked to was older than me, faster than me, and at least on their nine hundred and twenty third race...this year.  Seriously though, one woman I talked to was 53 years-old, had done marathons all over the world, and had just finished the Miami Marathon last weekend before coming up to Tallahassee for the half marathon.  Wow.  She was serious inspiration. 

Somewhere around mile 10, I suddenly felt like my legs were made of concrete.  I'd been grabbing a cup-full of Gatorade at every aid station, I'd slurped down the gel packet that was supposed to give me fuel to burn, but none of that seemed to matter.  I could hear Dory from Finding Nemo singing in my head "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, what do we do? we swimmmm..."  Needless to say, the last 3.1 miles were not very fun.  I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and watched the old guy wearing a turtle costume zip past me. 

My hands got very cold and numb, possibly because all of the blood in my body was working on trying to keep my legs from falling off, and certainly making me wish I hadn't tossed my gloves.  Outside of the track stadium, I pulled out my phone and texted the words "almost...........there........." to Seth with my unresponsive nub of a pointer finger.  I couldn't even manage to put my phone back in the case.  I held it in my hand the rest of the way.

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.........


Entering into the stadium and onto the track was like a breath of fresh air.  I'm almost done!  Strangers lined the edges of the track cheering--for me, even.  The atmosphere was enough to bring a huge smile to my face, but not enough to break the concrete feeling from my legs.  I'd had grandiose plans to kick it into high gear, giving it all I had to cross the finish line, but apparently this turtle's pace was all I had.  At least I was still moving, right?

Hopers ran along beside me to cheer me on.

The moment of truth:  I crossed the finish line!  Really, that was my goal when I started all this in the first place--to finish.  I also wasn't last.  AND I even made a much better time than I thought I would!

I ran the half marathon in 2 hours and 25 minutes which, incidentally, was only three minutes faster than this guy....

 ...who won the full marathon.

I'm pretty darn proud of my time though.  I'm also pretty darn sure I won't be winning any marathons any time soon.

My friend Angie crossed the finish line also.  Annoyingly, she caught up a lot of the early distance I put between us.  I need to find some slower friends.

I collected my finisher's medal and proudly shuffled in an awkward way to the car with my family.  We went out for pizza and then went home.  I wasn't able to walk, sit or squat for the next two days, but hey...

I did it!. 

And I wasn't last.

Jog Club

Can you keep a secret?  Good.  I have a secret, and I'm only going to tell you because I know you won't tell anyone else.  You're just that kind of person.

So the secret is, I'm part of a Jog Club.  You know, where you get together regularly with a group and jog together.  Yeah.  And it really just sorta happened.  One day, I looked around and realized there were three others with me on my runs and it had become the usual thing.  A jog club.  We run nearly every other day together, meeting out in the neighborhood and taking the same road for our run.

The thing is though, I'm nervous for two of the guys.   They slip away from their homes to meet me.  Their families don't know about their jogs.  They may not even know they're gone at all.  Like I said, we meet out in the street.  When we finish the run, they both slip wordlessly back down their separate driveways.  So for their sake, I have to keep the Jog Club a secret.  We don't discuss the jog club.  We just jog.



I've introduced two of the members to you before.


There's Poppy.  She's been my running partner from the start. She has the right body type for running and therefore keeps up a grueling pace.  She's very inspiring though.  When I've gone 7 miles, she has surely gone 10 for all of the zig-zagging back and forth, bush jumping, and running back to check on me that she does.

The second member of my crew is Stewart*.  He lives across the street from us.  He began joining us on runs early on, but lacked the physicality to keep up for a while.  He would run for a mile and then disappear, showing up in front of his house later on.  These days, his perseverance has paid off, though.  He can run 7+ mile no problem, and sticks with us the whole way.  I doubt his motivation is for health reasons, though.  I think he's just trying to show off for Poppy.  Nevertheless, he has trimmed up considerably, despite his natural stocky figure.

The third and newest member of our group is a dark, sturdy guy called Big Ed*.  This guy lives down at the corner on our path out to the woods. Out of all of us, he's probably the most out of shape (and I include me in that group because my jowls and belly aren't nearly as saggy as his).  He probably weighs 90-100 pounds.  But he has great determination.  Unlike, Stewart, Big Ed jumped right in without hesitation, going the same distance as the more seasoned runners on his first try.  He tends to be more cautious than the other two, mostly sticking to the road and closer to me.  He sweet personality shines through.  I've never heard him complain once.

The fourth member, of course is me.  I think I've somehow been elected president of this club, since it's always up to me to decide things-- like when meetings are held, how far we are running that day, what is an acceptable amount of time for sniffing butts, etc.

It's always fun, but in the end, there's always that lingering question...Did anyone see us?  Does anyone care?  I'll tip my head forward in a nod with a quick salute, saying something like, "See ya, Stewart," as he trots home, giving me the shifty-eyed glance he's so famous for.  And I know he won't tell his family.

Because we don't talk about the Jog Club.  Because the first rule of Jog Club is: You don't talk about Jog Club.


*Some names have been changed to protect identities.  (And possibly because we don't know their real names, so we just made something up.  They could care less.)

Running and Hunting

While running in the woods, it seems there are always interesting things to see.  This time of year in Florida, hunting season has begun.  Technically, though, it's only bow hunting season in our county.  But the hunters are out in full force.  One reason I know this is because of this:

They're empty shotgun shells, for those of you who have no knowledge and/or interest in gun stuff.  They're all over my dirt road I run down.  Either some people are (ahem) "jumping the gun" on firearms season, or they're just out practicing.  However, I know for sure that plenty of people are doing more than just practicing.  Yesterday, on our way into town, we saw a dirty SUV parked in front of the local lumber store.  Strapped to the back bumper were two dead bucks, tongues hanging, wounds still dripping.  A group of camo and plaid-clad men stood around, admiring it.  My dear hubby even did a u-turn in the road and drove through the parking lot just so he could get a better look at the game.  I rolled my eyes and slouched in my seat, of course, hoping nobody I knew saw us.  Seth and I have an ongoing discussion about hunting, where he wants me to take an interest in it and even go hunting with him, and I say, "Honey, we like a lot of the same things!  It's okay if we have a hobby or two that the other doesn't share in.  And I don't want to share in the hunting hobby!"

But hunting is hard to get away from around here.  On my run today, not only did I find shotgun shells in the road, but I also found someone's leg.  I nearly tripped on it.  (Caution!  Find a craft blog to read today instead of mine if you have a weak stomach.)

Yeah.  That someone is a deer of course, but still...  ew.

I found it just before mile 1.  It left me wondering what else I was going to find, possibly a tail, or the word "help" stamped out in deer footprints at mile 3?  So I ran all the way to mile 3, just to find out.  Or to possibly work on my goal for the half-marathon in February--either way.  Actually, I ran to mile 3.25 and back, which is six and a half miles!  Personal best, thank you very much.  I even developed a new mile marker there, which is "the next unnamed road on the left, after open tree area."  Thankfully, there were no more body parts.

And you know what else I discovered today?  Well, it has to do with the fact that I have hip pain when I run. I didn't know why, but after a few miles, my hips would just start to feel terrible, like my joints were grinding together.  I had been wondering if something was wrong with me--if I would even be able to run much farther than I already do.  Well, today, at the 3.25 mile mark, I stopped.  And I STRETCHED.  Yep.  I did toe touches and (okay, so I can't actually touch my toes, but I did toe reaches--don't laugh at me) hamstring stretches and stuff.  Just for about 60 seconds.

Then I turned around and ran back home another 3.25 miles.  It felt awesome!  Yes, the hip pain came back near the end, but I made it.  It gave me hope.  Hope to add another 6.5 miles at some point in the future.

Hopefully by February.



So the moral of this story is:  If you're ever running in the woods, make sure to stretch, and watch out for body parts.

Resizing, Stuart the Stalker, and Half-Marathons

You may have been wondering why I haven't been around the blog since coming back from China.  Heck, some of you may have been wondering if I came back from China.  So, yes.  I did.  I came back and promptly ignored my blog and all my faithful friends and readers. And I'm sorry.  Truly.  Can we still be friends?

Don't you even want to know why I didn't write to you or glance in your general direction?  Fine.  I tell you anyway.  While in China, I carried around my big, beautiful, mega-pixel-hungry camera.  I took pictures of everything and everyone.  I posted approximately 8 billion of them on my blog without editing them or resizing them.  I did this because I had no resizing software in China--only a tiny borrowed laptop for getting on the web.  My photo space allotment from Blogger got all used up.  No more pictures for me.  No more blog posts for me.  So, I'm slowly going back through the old posts and changing out 4.5 mega pixel photos for the 100 kilobyte versions. Photo number 2,653 resized and uploaded.  Check!  Photo number 2,654 resized and uploaded.  Check!  Sounds like fun, huh?  Don't you want to come hang out with me?  Resize photos?  No?

Hello?



That's cool.  I'll just talk to myself.  I do that quite well these days, anyway.  So, speaking of changes, I've made a few in my life since returning from China.  One of them:  I've decided to run a half-marathon.  13.1 miles.  When I told my mother about it, she looked at me blankly and said, "Why?" which is not actually a bad question.  Why do people run these silly races, anyway?  I'm pretty sure I'm doing it because I think I could....and it's on my list of things to do at least once in my life....and being thirty-one now, I don't have any grand illusions about this kind of thing getting any easier.  So, I'm doing it.  After deciding on it, my prayer went something like this:

Dear Lord,

What have I done?

Please help me.

Amen.

Then I went outside and started training.  

Part of my logic to do a half-marathon involved the fact that I'm not a total newbie to running.  I've had flings with it off and on since college.  Nothing serious of course.  Certainly no real commitment like an actual race or a jogging club.  Asthma and bad knees always held me back from really marrying into the life.  I never ran more than a few miles at a time.  Really hot weather and really cold weather were instant deal-breakers, of course.  That and paper-cuts.  And laundry.

But since moving to the country, I've been enjoying running more and more.  I have fresh air, no traffic, dirt roads that are easy on my joints, a dog...or two.  Dog #1 is mine.  Dog #2, not mine.  His name is...well, I have no idea what his name is, but Hopers named him Stuart, so that's what we call him.

He lives across the street and is the sidekick of our dog, Poppy.  He makes a great sidekick because he's short, goofy, slightly annoying, and follows Poppy everywhere.  In fact, I think he's more of a stalker, than a sidekick.  He's always at our house.  When Poppy isn't interested in playing, he sits and stares at her.

I always feel like
Somebody's waaaatchin' meee-eee....

Whenever I come out the front door and start running down the driveway, Poppy immediately knows what time it is.  She throws herself into the air and zips off at lightning speed across the street to get Stuart (if he's not already here).  And Stuart comes loping out into the street with his tongue flopping and ears flapping.  The two dogs zig-zag the path in front of me for the entire run--my trail blazers.

Another oddity about running out here are my mental mile markers.  From the house, down the driveway and the street, to the beginning of the dirt road is 2 tenths of a mile.  From there, it gets a little bit trickier.  I know I've gone a half mile when I reach the sign on the right that says "Begin National Forest Boundary," and I know that one mile is at the patch of red clay after the first patch of gravel on the mostly sandy road that is just past the second trail on the left.  Easy, right?  My two mile marker is the leaning pine tree on the right side edge of the road in the open pine and palmetto forest.  After that, I know I've made it two and a half miles if I reach the path on the right in the area of the pine forest where it is open (not thick and tangled with bushes) on both sides.

And that's as far as I've run. 2.5 miles out and 2.5 miles back to give me 5 miles.  Since my "official" training began, I ran about 12 miles the first week, 13 miles the second week, and 13.1 miles this week.  I'm not exactly breaking any records.  In fact, I'm probably shamefully slow.  But whatever, I have until February to embarrass myself in public.  All I want to do is finish. But not last.  Please don't let me be last!

If only I had a week to run the half-marathon.  Thirteen point one miles in a week?

Check!