Yes, Ladies and Gentleman...

Mattel has yet another toy recall. Of course, they can't tell us which toys yet...have to wait for the press conference.

No Joke

A friend sent me one of those "true story" emails about toddlers getting drunk off of Purell. It appears to be true.

Don't Have The Time?

I read a tip in Working Mother magazine a couple of weeks ago. The tip was to squeeze in exercise whenever you can. I now do squats while I wait for my water bottle to fill. I do push-ups while I wait for Harry's "Mimo" in the microwave. I do sit-ups while Harry is on the potty. I just grape-vined up the stairs.
One of my first runs ever was a marathon (I did train for it, but I'd never done a 5K or a 10K or gone running on a track). After running a marathon at about age 25, a last minute 10K was no big deal...even when said 10K turned into a 10 miler! Well, times change. You do what you can to get by, and stay trim.
Since I work, I have real issues about taking even more time away from Harry. Now that he is 3, he does, too. Just ask me about the events leading up to him "zoom-zoom-ing" his cars during the ceremony at my sister-in-law's wedding. While I'd like to get out on a long run on Saturday, it's been easier for me to just lug my gym clothes along and hop out of the car on the way back from a meeting, or to run to the bank since with traffic as it is, it's quicker to run anyway.
I have also given up fast food. It's been almost 1 month. Instead of waiting in line at McDonald's, it is just as fast to get a bowl of Miso soup and seaweed salad from the Japanese Restaurant, or Harris Teeter, even.
I have gained ten pounds since December. I can't tell you yet that I have seen noticeable improvements, but I definitely have more strength and energy. And I even look forward to when Harry wants to sit on my shoulders during a two hour hike! I can tell you, I blew away my trainer at the gym today with my endurance for doing squats with a twenty pound bar on my shoulders. After all, I'm used to 34 pounds!

Tying My Shoes

Yesterday I enjoyed one of the most scenic marathons/half marathons in the country - the Charlottesville, VA half marathon. I hadn't really trained for it and almost didn't make it due to a sick child, but I got there and ran like the wind. This was my first race to run without my running buddies and buddy up with my ipod instead. The race was absolutely stunning, only about 1500 participants, and hilly as hell. Yes, there were some rolling hills. But there were also a couple of massive, lung-burning, calf-locking, thigh-screaming, vow-to-never-race-again HILLS. Runners were dropping like flies on these hills. Get the picture? I do tend to exaggerate a bit - but I swear these were difficult.

Back to the race...the race started at 6:30 a.m. I arrived too late the night before to pick up my packet early. So I needed to get there by 6am (cut off for packets). After arriving late to the hotel, staying up with a fussy baby, nursing several times through the night, I dragged my butt out of bed at red-eye 5am. Did I mention I also had a sick toddler with me? And guess what, I actually ran a good race! Yep - my pace was pretty spectacular in the scheme of things. Now...I hope you've all been able to experience that post-race glow when you know you ran well, overcame many challenges, and kicked some young girl butts! It is a great feeling that follows you for days! Even waking the next morning and realizing you can barely walk is a rush.

This morning as I limped out of bed I took a run down memory lane. Highlighs from some of the races I've donerun over the past 10 years were flashing through my mind. People I've met along the way, training partners, hills, bike rides, traveling for races, running with a hangover now and then.

And then I had a sad thought. I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO WAKE UP, TIE MY SHOES, AND HEAD OUT THE DOOR FOR A RACE WITHOUT A TON OF RESPONSIBILITIES HITTING ME IN THE FACE AGAIN. Do you remember pre-kids when you could run anytime, anywhere, no worries, no cares, no breakfast to make, no nursing before you head out the door, no rushing home to take care of the family? I know all of the obstacles of motherhood make us stronger. But wouldn't it be nice to have just one day, one more race, one more post-race beer, one more weekend without thoughts of motherhood responsibilities ringing in your head?

Yet another whirlwind of emotions took over. The joy I feel when I see my smart, strong, happy daughters running around chasing each other. The sense of accomplishment I will feel for years and years as my daughters reach goals of their own.

And one day - maybe when I'm 60 - and my girls are away at college or spending a summer abroad I will wake up, tie my shoes, and hit a PR (personal record) in a race once again.

Mini Van Mama

I'm the hip chick that said, "I would NEVER drive one of those goofy looking mini vans. Those are for desperate housewives toting around snot-nosed brats." Keep in mind, that was me in my mid-twenties -- single and loving it. Not a care in the world. No intention of getting married much less having kids. My most important decisions those days were which bar would I visit that night and what would I wear. Or what would be my big splurge of the month - new kick-ass shoes or a mini vacation? I was nearly hitting a six-digit income and spending every penny frivolously on myself.

Fast forward to present day. Married, two kids, two car garage, house in the burbs. Getting dangerously close to turning 40. Temporarily (hopefully) hung up my power business suits. And just had baby #2. Whoa! Who is this chick? Did my mother take over my body?

To top it all off -- I just bought a mini van. Yep, you read it right. I, the mini-van-hating-mini-skirt-wearing-mama opted for a mini van. And I LOVE IT. It holds anything and everything, including my two fabulous children, their toys, jogging stroller, snacks, books...everything. We can even transport adults AND kids at the same time!

Now, buying a mini van did not happen without some self-inflicted blows to my ego. As soon as I drove the house-on-wheels off the lot I aged 20 years. Seriously, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a billion wrinkles on my previously somewhat smooth face. And a gray hair was waving at me too (one of many)! The next day I went on a teen-inspired t-shirt shopping spree. I bought a few concert shirts, skull-and-crossbone shirts, cool headbands, and a box of haircolor. I even ordered a microdermabrasion kit from a Susan Lucci (All My Children) infomercial. My thought process was this...if I had to get out of a mini van dragging two kids behind me, at least I could look somewhat cool doing it (or look like a young mom). A friend even sent my 2-year old daughter a couple of concert shirts so we could look hip together!

Why do I care? I really don't. I mean, I'm trying not to dwell on aging and fret about every tiny detail (sagging skin, weakening bones, dwindling energy, varicose veins). But we all want to age gracefully in the back of our minds - admit it. But most of all I think I just want to be a somewhat "hip mom" to my daughter's friends. Someone they feel comfortable coming to when they need advice. Someone they WANT to spend time with and don't feel embarrassed to be around. Someone to coach their soccer teams and drive them to state championships. Their dance partner in the living room! Someone to share their dreams and secrets.

I consider buying the mini van "taking one for the team!"
And, NO, it isn't one with DVD players and auto everything. I tried very hard to control myself!

By the way, my dear husband gave up his speedy Volkswagen Jetta to gift me with the van. Now THAT is what I call love.

Marathon Mom

Let me say this off the bat: I completely brought this upon myself. I have no one I can blame. I placed the curse upon myself.

I had the gall--the gall, I say!--to think to myself, "Wow, after the last action-packed marathon, this marathon will really give me nothing to blog about. I know all the ins and outs of the marathon. I know the tricks. I'm fully prepared. I'll have nothing to write but, 'I ran my second marathon and I had a time of XXX.'"

Which is how I jinxed this marathon.

Let's start with the sinus infection. I was feeling probably 80 percent better. But that didn't bother me as much as the words of my doctor, which kept running through my head. "You may not feel healthy enough to run. You may not feel healthy enough to run. You may not feel healthy enough to run." The power of positive thinking right? Yeah, right.

Then there was the missing registration card. The ING site said, "All U.S. registration cards will be mailed the week of Oct. 13." So I waited. And waited. No card. Where is my card? The card that is essential for getting my race number at the expo? No card. Then, the week before the race, an e-mail arrived that read, "If you didn't get your registration card in the mail, you can use this e-mail," which leads me to believe they didn't mail all the cards out. Okay, that's all right. Taken care of.

Then I called the hotel to confirm our reservation. Oh, they had it all right. For twice as long as we had intended on staying. Thank goodness I called because they had us down as arriving on Thursday. Can you imagine how thrilled I would have been had I shown up on Friday only to find that they not only charged my credit card the $358 for Thursday night but had since given away our room?

I printed out my registration card and took a good look at it for the first time. There I was. Yep. There's my name. That's my age. It's me. But wait? No bus pass? I know I signed up for a bus pass as it's the only reasonable way to get to the start line! What a pain in the neck. I've got to make sure to remember to buy a bus pass at the expo instead of nicely and conveniently having it printed on my bib number.

I know, I know. You're thinking, "This really isn't all that big a deal. You were stressing over nothing." Which would be true if it weren't for the final thing. The ultimate jinx. The voice-from-above "I gave you plenty of signs you shouldn't run and yet you ignore me" jinx.

I took a closer look at my registration card. I noted my bib number. Last time I ran my bib number was 47474. A nice high number because I had put down a very slow predicted race time. No biggie. But this time my race number is W409. That's odd. Did they change the numbering schematic? And then I look one more time. There it is on the side, in all caps. "WHEELCHAIR START." Um, hello? HELLO!!!! I DON'T THINK SO!

While it certainly provided much fodder for the household banter ("Do we have plans for next Wednesday? I want to go out for dinner with a friend." "Well, I suppose it's okay. I'm sure I'll have managed to navigate bathtime in the wheelchair by then"), it turned me into a stress monkey. Which in a way was good, because I wasn't stressing about the race itself. I found myself being extra careful when I ran because I was convinced I was going to break a limb. (Again, the voice from above: "You wanted a wheelchair start? Well, I'll give you a wheelchair start!") My husband was convinced it was no big deal and they'd fix it at the expo but I was pretty sure they were just making me go to the help desk to publicly humiliate me and strip me of my running shoes.

As it turns out I was right in the first place: there really isn't much to blog about the marathon. My sister was correct when she told me, "All those jinxes were good! You got all the bad stuff out of the way and now you can run a great marathon!"

The trip to New York was hunky dory. The kids were well behaved and, except for that smell that began to seep out of Pie's diaper around New Rochelle, the trip was uneventful. We gave a ride to another runner, and Adam dropped the two of us at the Expo center on our way into town Friday evening. What a difference a day makes. Whereas last time, when I went on Saturday, the lines snaked out of the building, on Friday evening we walked right in. I went to the "Solutions Desk," and they did indeed solution my wheelchair problem. Hallelujah! It's a miracle! I can walk again! In fact, I ended up with a lower number (when I signed up, I think I predicted at 4:45 or 5 hour marathon and I knew I could do much better than that) and she asked me which color I'd like to start with. I didn't have a preference and she said, "I'll give you blue. That's a good one--you start on top of the bridge." And then she gave me a bus pass! How sweet was that? I was able to actually enjoy the rest of the Expo.

And then: Sunday. I woke a zillion times in the night (didn't help that Doodles was crammed between me and Adam, with his little head shoved into my side and his feet under Adam) and I finally got up at 4:55 a.m., five minutes before the alarm. I got dressed and headed to meet my friend to hop the bus to the start. This is definitely the most tedious part of the marathon--just waiting for the start. We took a 5:30 bus but the marathon didn't start till 10:10. The sun was just starting to come up when we got off the bus at the start in Staten Island. We had to split up, because she had a seeded number (she told me later that she got distracted at the start, because she looked up and over to the other side of the bridge, and there was Lance).

So I waited. And waited. And waited. Used the portapotty a bunch. Got some Tylenol. Drank a lot of tea. Jumped up and down trying to keep warm. Had a little massage. And I waited. And waited. Finally it was time to line up. We started to move up before the gun went off and sure enough the bathrooms emptied out. I was actually able to run in and be out in time to hear the starting gun. With my "low" number (if 30012 can really be considered low), it only took me ten minutes to cross the starting line. I decided to hang out with the 4:30 pace group. I really had no idea what my speed would be--hard to tell in training what you can reasonable sustain over 4 1/2 to 5 hours. My goal was a 4:45 marathon. My stretch goal was a 4:30 marathon. My don't-admit-it-to-anyone-but-what-I'm-really-hoping-for goal was a 4:22 marathon.

I kept with the pace group in the beginning, but realized I found it distracting. I wasn't paying as much attention to the crowds and the music and the scenery because I was so focused on keeping up with the group. I also found the run to be much, much denser this time, and I exerted way too much energy weaving in and out and around people. It was a tad claustrophobic. I made friends with another woman, Kelly, and we chatted and ran together for a while, but I soon discovered if I ran just in front of the pace group, it was a little less crowded.

My first goal was my family at mile 11. Unfortunately I didn't know which side of the street they'd be on, so I slowed down from the pace group so I could get a good look. My right knee started to bother me, but I decided to ignore it. At about 11 1/2 miles I spotted them. Doodles was day dreaming and even though I screamed his name about 12 times, he barely saw me. Pie was asleep in Adam's backpack. And I just kept running. At this point, the miles were coming fast and furious, just melting away. But about halfway over the Queensboro Bridge, my knee really started to bother me, to the point where I feared I might have to drop out. I considered stopping at a medical tent, but told myself I'd go just a little farther and think about stopping at the next one. I started to walk through the water stops, and that helped considerably. By this time the pace team was ahead of me, but I just kept a steady pace and around mile 18 or so, I had caught up, and by mile 19, they were definitely behind me. At mile 20, my sister was waiting for me with a friend. "My knee hurts!" I told her. She replied, "Just keep going! Keep running!" so I did.

Around this point, I was relieved that I had broken through the wall. I knew I was going to have the energy to sustain me to the end, as long as my knee held out. But this is also the point where each mile doubles in length. The miles were no longer melting away, but sloooooooooowly stretchhhhhhing ooooooouuuuutttt. I had to resist the urge to run faster, because five miles after 21 miles is still a long way to go. So I just kept a steady pace.

Once I hit 23 miles, I knew I'd make it even if I had to crawl across the finish line, so I let myself speed up a little. I would have liked to have sped up even more, but there were still so many runners on the course that it was difficult to navigate around them. I still walked at water stations--even at mile 25 (didn't want to collapse because of my knee in mile 26)--but I felt great. I powered through the end, feeling like a champ. Adam and the Pie were apparently at the end, at 250 yards, but I didn't even notice them, I was so in the zone. I flew through the finish line, clocking in at 4:25:07. Despite being three minutes off my dream goal, I was exceedingly pleased (remember, my only other marathon was a 5:19 marathon!). I feel confident that given a flatter, less crowded course, I could do it.

After the race, I gathered with my family and a close friend at my parents' place for pizza and wine. The next day I got my medal engraved, bought a finisher's shirt, and spent the morning at the Central Park Zoo. The ride back was fine except that the Pie was finished with it about 45 minutes before we were finished with it, which made for a painfully loud experience.

As far as body woes, my knee now seems to be fine. I have one very, very ugly toe (I tried to take a picture of it for all of you, but you can be grateful that it didn't come out well enough to really appreciate the black, bloody, bruised thing that it is) but I'm itching to get back out there.

So now? Now it's time to 1) recover and then 2) get back into training. After all, it's only two months, one week, and six days until the Miami Marathon! 4:22, here I come!

Just like Lewis & Clark

One of the things I like best about being a runner is exploring a new city on foot. Unfortunately, when I'm not training for a race, this luxury goes by the wayside. However, this summer's marathon training got me out for a fantastic long run on a recent trip to Louisville.

The Louisville Riverwalk runs 6.3 miles from downtown Louisville to Shawnee Park on the city's West End. The trail runs adjacent to the river for a bit, and then passes by working railroad tracks, through wooded areas, past parks and a golf course, and eventually ends up at Shawnee Park (which itself has a 1.3 mile running loop around its grounds). Along the path are various lists of river-related trivia embedded in the asphalt, which help take a runners' mind off the many miles stretching out before her. I wound up running just under 16 miles in perfect weather.

What struck me the most was that is was not very crowded, unlike the trails here in the D.C. area. On the way out, I could count on one hand the number of people I saw along the trail (which was, quite frankly, a little unnerving for a female running along). And, of the runners I saw along the trail, there were no other women. It wasn't until I got to Shawnee Park that I saw a woman running (with a male running partner). She caught sight of me, and began clapping, saying, "Yeah! A woman running! I like to see that!" It made me wonder if it was such an odd sight for a woman to be running in Lousiville.

Fortunately, on my way back towards downtown, I saw several female runners. I think most of them were with the Leukemia Society Team in Training group, but it was good to see them out there nonetheless.

All in all, it was a fantastic place for a run, and it cemented my love of running in Louisville (the scenic loop in Cherokee Park is a close second). However, it also made me grateful for the strength and diversity of the running community here in D.C.

Practice Makes Perfect

It's interesting- the more you run, the better you become at it, as is the case with most things. But with Pilates, the more you do it, the harder it gets. Therin lies the paradox (has anyone read Prep? I've been looking for a reason to use that last line. Need to remove it from my head and pass it on to you).
I guess the thing is, when you do Pilates, you learn how to do it better, and you focus on different things. You learn new skills so that you advance. Hmmmm...
I've been telling Harry lately that the more he practices something, the better he will get. Usually he believes everything I say. If he doesn't, he matter-of-factly says "Mommy Do It." He doesn't get hung up on the fact that he can't, say, wipe his face with a napkin (even though he can). But, Harry does get excited when he perseveres and succeeds. "I did it!" he says with a sparkle in his eye.
I suppose, as with Pilates, life will get harder. I was thinking Pilates was the exception to the rule, but I suppose not. I just never thought about it.
While watching a Baby Einstein DVD a few years ago, I realized a Solar System is named such because the planets revolved around the sun. My brother-in-law, a science teacher, was appalled that I didn't already know this. Perhaps I did, but it doesn't come up in my day to day pharmaceutical research.
Another thing I learned today, while watching Franklin, is that sometimes people get mad at you, but that doesn't mean they like you any less. I'll ignore the fact that this may indeed change as we age. I will pretend that it is true: everything we need to know in life, we learned in kindergarten.

And Already It Begins...

I get Doodles out of the house and to Target by telling him he can pick out a new lunch box that he’ll take with him to preschool. He’s psyched for the idea, and all the while I’m shopping, he’s asking, “Where are the lunch boxes? Can I get my lunch box now?” I say we’ll get there soon and I remind him that Sweetie Pie will need a lunch box too for the Tiny Tot room. “Can I pick out her lunch box?” I shrug, and say, “Sure!” Sweetie Pie is babbling away in my mei tai carrier and doesn’t seem to mind the idea.

So, we make our way over the lunch box aisle finally, and they have *the* cutest dinosaur lunch boxes. I quickly move Doodles past the Spiderman, Batman, and the like lunch boxes.

Me: Wow! Look at this! Are these the coolest lunch boxes or what?
Doodles: They’re dinosaurs!
Me: They are dinosaurs!
Doodles: I want a dinosaur lunch box!
Me: I think that’s a fabulous idea. Would you like the orange one or the green one?
Doodles: Um, the orange one.
I pull the orange one over.
Me: Look! Do you see what kind of dinosaur it is?
Doodles: Is it a triceratops?
Me: Yes, it is! That’s very good, Doodles.
Doodles: I want to pick Sweetie Pie’s lunch box.
Me: Great idea. Do you think Sweetie Pie would like the green dinosaur?
Doodles wrinkles his face in distaste.
Doodles: No. Sweetie Pie wants the Hello Kitty lunchbox.
Let me interject here and ask: How the hell does my son know what Hello Kitty is!!?!! Okay, back to our story:
Me: I really think Sweetie Pie would like the green dinosaur.
Doodles: No, the Hello Kitty lunch box.
Me: I think the green dinosaur is the baby sister dinosaur. Don’t you think Sweetie Pie should have the baby sister dinosaur?
Doodles starts getting upset: The Hello Kitty lunch box!
Me: I have an idea! Why don’t we get you the Hello Kitty lunchbox and we’ll get Sweetie Pie the dinosaur lunch box!
Doodles: No, I want the dinosaur. Sweetie Pie wants Hello Kitty.

Now I’m debating with myself. Do I get the Hello Kitty like he asks for? (I can't find the lunch box online, but it looks almost like this.) After all, I did say he could pick out her lunch box. Or do I override him and get her the green dinosaur? I even contemplate buying both the green dinosaur and the Hello Kitty and then secretly returning the Hello Kitty when Doodles’s forgotten about it. Then I have an idea. After all, Sweetie Pie has my genes, right?

Me: I know! Let’s let Sweetie Pie decide!
Sweetie Pie is happily reaching for everything from inside my mei tai.
I hold up the dinosaur.
Me: Sweetie Pie! [lots of cheer in my voice] Do you want the neat green dinosaur!!
I hold up Hello Kitty.
Me: [voice goes lower] Or do you want this one?
Sweetie Pie looks at both. Her eyes start to sparkle and she gives a big smile.
Me: Look! Sweetie Pie wants the dinosaur! Here Sweetie Pie!
At which point Sweetie Pie squeals loudly with disgust, bats her hand out until it makes contact with the dinosaur, throwing it down on the ground, and grabs the Hello Kitty lunch box with both hand, cackling with delight.
Sweetie Pie: Eee! Eee! Eee!

I buy one dinosaur lunch box and one Hello Kitty lunchbox.

I’m a failure as a feminist mother. They’re going to take away my feminist credentials. Might as well buy those Barbies now and get it over with.

Tip to feel good about being a traveling/working/busy mom

When Harry was an infant, traveling for work was not as hard. In fact, it was nice to be able to relax for a night before rushing home. I have been hoping when he is older he will understand and maybe even appreciate my travel. I figure our phone calls will be more productive, he can fax me his homework to review, I can leave him notes in his backpack...But 2 is hard. At 2, he just wants Mommy to be home. Actually, he wants Mommy to take him to the beach. (I want to go to the beach too!) So, feeling guilty (and a bit lazy) and not wanting to catch a 6 AM flight to Atlanta, I sat down at Harry's desk and picked up a crayon and wrote him a letter. The extent was "Good Morning, Harry! Love, Mommy!" It included pawprints, happy faces and flowers. I am told after finally finding it on the floor in front of him, he went and wrote his own response to me (across the front of the letter of course!). I can't wait to see it. And if the letter didn't serve the full purpose of letting him know I was thinking about him, at least it was a distraction!

Oh- and running 4 miles on the treadmill helped me sweat out some guilt too!

first day of school

I dropped Iz off for his first day of "school" -- a summer program in town that meets two days a week for four hours each day. One of the days is called"Mothers' Day Out", the other the "Early School Program." The former concentrates on holidays and social stuff, the latter on school-like topics (colors, shapes, numers, letters). But the teachers, kids, and place are the same. The kids arrive, play with toys, do an art project, play outside, eat lunch, and again play with toys or go outside. Perfect for little Iz.

How to explain to a two-year-old kid who has never been to school what school is... Didn't matter. We arrived at the door and he took off without a backward glance. The Seasame Street theme helped (he pounced on a little plastic Elmo action figure).

I hovered a bit before I left. I wasn't worried that the teachers couldn't take care of him. But I did wonder if I should tell them that he doesn't eat a damn thing. I decided not to because it occurred to me that he might eat better around other kids and when those around him had no idea he is a pain about food. We'll see. I'll probably get a starving, exhausted child back at 1pm. Maybe then he'll start figuring the food thing out.

This school thing is odd. Now I have four hours and no work on my desk to get done (when I don't have child care for him, I have tons of work -- am I cursed?). Sure, I could clean some part of the house. Yes, I could clean and organize my office. Maybe tomorrow, when he goes again. Now I think I am going to exercise out back, then paint a bit (I'm still working on the big version of the Zamia Street house). Maybe, maybe, then I'll start in on cleaning my office.

Update: I received an "Iz has messed himself, please come and change him" call an hour after I dropped him off. You see, they don't do diapers, though they don't expect a two-year-old to be toilet trained, just toilet "aware." I sent him in pull ups to at least pretend he is aware. I ran over (okay, drove over), changed him, and left again.

The report at 1pm was that he been great -- not even cranky when he was tired (which the teacher said some of the older kids were). He is a rallyer when tired, as long as there are other kids around and toys to play with. But he didn't eat a damn thing.

where have I been?

It all started when Iz fractured his foot on May 31. He climbed on a little square cafe table on our back deck. As I walked toward him and asked him to get down, he smiled that "of course I'm not going to listen to you -- in fact, I'm going to make the whole situation more risky" and walked to the edge of the table and jumped.

Not off the table, but the table tipped, he flattened out on the table top, and the two hit the ground. Not very fast, not very hard, not very far. But it was enough.

The foot breaking happened right when I had a huge, unfamiliar editing job for a new client that I had promised to them by June 5 (I did get an extension until June 9 -- and just managed to get it done). I may sound selfish here -- believe me, I would rather make sure Iz was okay than do the editing job -- but the facts were that I had this huge job and had made a promise to a client.

Iz was a mess for a few days (understandably). The first night, he slept no more than 3 hours combined -- no more than 15 minutes at a time. The rest of the time he was crying -- ranging from hysterical to wimpering. I knew he was exhausted and drove around with him for an hour at 2 a.m. (Interesting out there on the roads at 2 a.m. We live in an area which has a high number of car thefts and I think I saw a car being stolen. But what was I going to do about it? Pull over and ask the three young men -- who were hiding their faces from my view -- what they were doing while my two-year-old screamed. Not likely. They were gone by the time I made a third loop down the road -- as were two cars.)

The type of crying seemed like the pain kind, but it turns out he was totally frustrated with the splint. Took us two days to figure that one out -- if we unwrapped the ace bandage, he fell right asleep.

Anyway... I snapped. I indulged in my own hysterical crying and rants that spiraled into hopelessness. (A complete mental breakdown? Hard to say.) I think I still have not recovered. I am questioning everything:

• I love taking care of Iz, but should I put him in more extensive child care so I can get work done?
• I can't imagine myself not working, but could I work much less and not be destitute?
• Should I bag the whole idea of having a second child?

Maybe I'll recover and stop doubting everything.

Isaac is, of course, recovering (I was never worried that he wouldn't). He never had a cast put on because the first split gave him a huge blister -- and you can't put a cast on a blister (festering possibilities). So we can take off his splint, bathe him, stop him from screaming hysterically... And he runs around on the split like nothing is wrong. He calls it his "big foot."

IT JUST GOT INTERESTING!

No, I don't mean Jen & Vince's pending engagement. I mean the second marathon I signed up for this October! I feel fine after running 1, so why not 2? I'll be seein' ya in Chicago October 22 and again a week later for my third Marine Corps Marathon. Hmmm. I REALLY better start training now. Anyone have any good suggestions for a 4 month training plan? ;-)

Bert-day to you. Bert-day to you.

Instead of Here Comes the Bride, the tune I hear most frequently these days is Happy Birthday To You. I’m not complaining, really. I just find it interesting.
I realized the other day that this is the first year in the past 15 that I don’t have 1 single wedding to attend – at least none that I am aware of this late in the game. There were some years that we woudl attend 3 weddings in one weekend. 1 day we attended two weddings in two different states...and I was in one of them! But now they seem to have been replaced.
What I have now is a schedule full of toddler birthdays and birth announcements. They are fun. A social outlet, at least. I do miss cake that doesn’t turn my teeth dark green (Ninja Turtles) and sitting down to enjoy a meal. And dancing with my husband. But bouncing around the room with my toddler can be a blast...and don't you kind of wish everyone still lit up at the site of a balloon? It would make business meetings a whole lot more interesting!

I Will Make It There...

I ran the Covered Bridges Half Marathon on our vacation. First let me say, the name is somewhat of a misnomer. We ran over exactly one covered bridge. However we did pass another and regardless the scenery was absolutely stunning. What an amazing half. It's quite difficult to get into the race--they open registration in December and it generally fills the same day. I had my husband get online first thing in the morning to secure my spot.

I ended up running about 90 percent of the race with friends, which made it just fly by. At about mile 10 1/2, though, it started being not so fun. That always happens. I'm digging the race, in a zone, psyched just to be running. And then at some point, I realize, "Hey, I'm tired. I'm ready to be done." And then I just want the race to be over, which kind of works in my favor because it forces me to kick it to get the race over with faster.

Which leads me to my time. A personal half marathon record for me! My net time was 2:04:17 for a pace of 9:29 minutes a mile! Whoo hoo! Now it has me thinking, "Could I break the two hour half marathon?"

Anyway, we returned from a week's vacation with me kicking and screaming and not wanting to come home to, well, real life. I said to my husband, "Now what? Now what do I have to look forward to? We have no more trips planned."

Ah, but sometimes the gods work in your favor. And when I came home and downloaded my zillion e-mails, there it was: "Countdown to the start of the race of your life, November 5, 2006: 150 Days. Congratulations! You're in for the experience of a lifetime, the ING New York City Marathon 2006!" It's my do-over! I got a lottery spot in the NYC marathon!

It's completely rejuvenated me. And I'm really far ahead in my training this time around--already up to 15 mile long runs. I see a great race in my future. Anyone else out there doing it?

"Marathoning is like cutting yourself unexpectedly. You dip into the pain so gradually that the damage is done before you are aware of it. Unfortunately, when the awareness comes, it is excruciating." -- John Farrington, Australian marathoner

I guess I dig the pain.

Improving with Age

So my mind may be slowing, but my body is speeding up! I ran the Portsmouth Red Hook/Runner's Alley 5k last Sunday, and I kicked butt! About four and a half years ago, Adam and I ran a 10k together. I thought I did awesome then! Well, now that I'm practically 38, I broke my personal record:

535 (out of 1529)
42 out of 262 in my gender/age division
total time: 25:57
pace: 8:22 minutes a mile.

In just two short years, I'm in a new age division (and a "master's" runner. Yuck!), which means I might actually start to really kick some ass. Right now, my age division is 30 to 39, so I'm competing against those youngsters. When I'm running in the 40 to 49 year olds, I'll be the young 'un!

My half marathon is this weekend. I have a terrible time pacing myself on longer races--I tend to go out too hard and then sputter out at the end. I haven't quite figured out what my pace should be, although for 13.1 miles, I'm hoping to average a 9:45 to 10 minute a mile pace. Wish me luck!

DoodleSpeak

We're now entering that phase that's so wonderful when Doodles's communication is getting to the point where he can really express himself and tell stories and let us know what's going on in his world. It was really exciting for me the day I walked into his day care and he said, "Come see the chrysalis!" and he brought me over to a net cage. He said, "We had caterpillars. They're now chrysalis." His teacher prompted him, "What will they be?" Doodles said, "Butterflies!" His teacher asked, "What kind?" Doodles said excitedly, "Painted lady!"

Sometimes he tugs at my heart strings. We're still having issues with Sweetie's sleep (will it ever end?) and the other day, I put her down. I was home alone with Doodles, so I was intermittently patting/walking/nursing Sweetie and then running back to take care of Doodles who also needed to get ready for bed. At one point, he stopped eating and he looked at me. "Sweetie is crying," he said to me. "I know, honey," I told him. "Can you make her feel better?" he asked me. Ugh! Don't I wish!

But there are also the really fun moments. Like last night. We were looking at his book, Things That Go, and I was pointing to different parts of a car, not sure which words he knew. Especially because of day care, I find that his vocabulary always surprises me, and he knows words I never would have expected him to know. So I pointed to different things and asked questions:

Me: What is this?
Doodles: A car!
Me: What color car?
Doodles: Blue!
Me: [pointing to the headlights] What are these?
Doodles: Headlights!
Me: That's very good! I didn't know you knew what those are. [now pointing to the side-view mirrors] And do you know what these are?
Doodles: [no hesitation] Ear lights!

Yeah! Does it get more fun than this?

Feelin' Good!

Wednesday I gave up coffee.
I have been dragging and I decided coffee may be the culprit.
I never used to drink the stuff. There are a lot of things I used to do and not do.
Anyway. No more coffee. At least not everyday.

Since giving up coffee, I am not dragging as much. In fact, I feel so good I decided that beginning tonight I am going to get 8 hours of sleep every night. I am even going to chart my progress.

I'm an all or nothing kind of gal - or at least, I used to be. Since getting pregnant 3 years ago, my health routine has been bordering on nothing. I was really sick when I was pregnant and the only thing that made me feel better was eating. Root Beer. Potatos. Cupcakes. I have given up the soda but not so much on the cupcakes and fries. Kick starting my regimine isn't working, so I am taking it one day at a time. Eventually, I will be back on track, rock hard and full of energy. That's my goal. Here is where you come in. What are your best kept secrets to feeling good? An apple a day? Vitamin D? Thai yoga massage? Pina Colada chapstick? Taco Tuesdays? Tanqueray? Let me know what works! I need to get moving. I bet I am not the only one!

Que es mas macho?

That would so be me. I am muy macho. Up here in eastern Massachusettes, we are having some MASSIVE rain. Sunday was not just pouring, it was ark-building weather. And yet, I had a race planned, a Mother's Day 5k and I was not to be deterred. Oh, I was a little disappointed because if the weather had been better, my whole family would have come to cheer me on and Doodles would have run his first race--there's a kids' fun run first--but I couldn't think of a better way to spend Mother's Day than a race.

But the clouds had their way and as I drove up, I was directed to the parking lot... where I was told the race was cancelled. The city asked the running club to cancel the race because flooding on the streets was so bad that cars needed to be redirected onto the race route. A few of us diehards were thanked for coming and we were encouraged to take a race shirt and partake of the baked goodies.

It was disappointing, but I felt a minor sense of accomplishment anyway, having shown up, which as we all know, is half the battle. It was going to be my first race since Sweetie was born (she's 8 1/2 months) and I was anxious to see my time. My running has improved so much of late, but I guess I'll have to wait until my next race (or rather my first race) on Memorial Day weekend. Which is fine. Just gives me that much more time to improve my speed!

Old School

As you may remember, I am a big fan of cross training. But, today I was being a super good runner. I walked to the gym and did my speedwork on the treadmill. I was all set to walk home when I got pulled into an Aerobics class. "It will be so fun!" I was told. I agreed and told the instructor I would likely stay for only 15 minutes. I stayed for the whole class! I felt like I was 13 again. Well, a slightly out of shape 13 year old, that is. It was a blast, though, and I have more spring in my run! It was weird to be in a workout studio with my shoes on and no yoga mat, but I have every intention if going back next week...and adding it to my marathon training!