The 26.2-Mile-Long Party

There is a mosh pit of people lined up on either side. The paparazzi are clamoring to get a better shot of you. The band is playing. People are cheering, waving banners, clapping. Complete strangers are trying to get your attention and are shouting out your name.

"Way to go, Kathy!"

 

"Looking Good, Susy!"

 

"Keep up the good work, Nicole!"

You look directly in front of you and see a cleared path to follow. People move out of the way to let you pass by. You are nervous and excited. The energy is all around. "That’s right," you think, "It’s time to Party. It’s time to get this 26.2 mile party on the road." Because this marathon has just started.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that anyone who links the word party with the word marathon is completely out of her mind. And I would normally agree with you on that one, if it weren’t for the endorphins from all the running. It’s like Elle Woods from Legally Blonde said, “Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy.” Yes, these endorphins make me so happy that I’m convinced that running a marathon is as much fun as a party, but wait, I can actually prove it.

First, other than Oktoberfest, where can you go and hang out with a mob of happy people with whom you share the same interests? A marathon is full of people with shared goals. Thousands and thousands of brand-new friends who, just like you, have trained for months. Friends that know what it's like to live off GUenergy gels and Gatorade for the past three months. They have carbo-loaded. They understand all about hill repeats, speed workouts, and long runs. If you tell them that you just ran 20 miles and then sat in a bathtub full of ice cubes afterward, they will nod and smile in understanding. And don’t forget that they also speak your language. Not only can they say the word fartlek, they can say it without bursting out laughing or quickly getting out of your way when you say it.

And if having thousands of new friends isn’t enough, how about all the celebrities you’ll see along the way? At my last marathon, I actually saw Elvis. I know, you thought he was dead, so did I, but there he was singing to me in front of the conservatory. By the way, I also saw Michael Jackson, Lady Gaga, the Blues Brothers, and a gorilla. A real gorilla. He was just standing there giving everyone high-fives.

How about all the free food and drinks? I used to think that Saturday morning at Sam’s Club was the place to go for free food and drinks, but no, a marathon has that beat. You go to Sam’s Club and there you might see five, maybe six free sample tables with one person working and fifty people lined up in a single file line to get a bite of bacon-wrapped, cheese, mini dogs. At a marathon, you’ll find at least twenty-four stations of table, after table staffed by hundreds of people handing out refreshments, and the best part; no waiting. And then there are the random strangers that will give you bottled water, free candy, fresh fruit, home-baked cookies, and even ice-cold beer. Try to get free, ice-cold beer at Sam's Club.

How can it get better than this? Well how about all the cool party favors they hand out. At the Flying Pig Marathon, I got a brand-new, technical shirt with the coolest logo of a pig dressed up like Batman. Who doesn’t love pigs and Batman? But together? I know, wow! They also give you a brand new Asics gym bag, and all types of free samples.

But the best thing is the fans. They line up all along the 26.2 miles for hours and hours, just to watch and to cheer-on the runners. They have cowbells. They have megaphones. They have cute babies. They have streamers. And they have the best signs in the world. They make these signs that say things like:

“Worst Parade Ever” (which is funny because it’s not true)

“Chuck Norris never ran a marathon."

“Don’t stop people are watching."

"Why do all the cute ones run away?”

And the best sign of all, at the mile 25 marker: “The end is near.”

As you can see, a marathon is just one long party. You get to make thousands of new friends. You get to rub elbows with celebrities. You get free stuff. You have strangers cheering you on and entertaining you the entire time. But best of all is that moment when you think that you’ve had enough fun. It’s been close to four hours and you look straight ahead. The end is near (that guy at mile 25 was right). You cross the finish line with your arms held high. And just as you stop, a fan places a medal around your neck. A shiny new medal. Now that’s what I call the end of a great party. A 26.2-mile-long party.

The Circular Package Beckons Me

I used to be a soccer mom, you know, the type of mother that lives in her minivan while driving her children around town from soccer game to soccer game.  After years of being a soccer mom, I gave it all up to be, instead, a taekwondo mom.  Now, instead of driving around from soccer game to soccer game, I get to spend my days at the taekwondo training hall. 

Most of the time I like to wait inside the building talking with the other parents, reading a book, and watching the children train.  It sure is boring waiting in the parking lot alone in a minivan during a thunderstorm, wondering if I should wait it out in the van or run for refuge inside the air-conditioned training hall and get soaked.   But that’s just where I found myself the other day.

Stuck in the minivan during a violent thunderstorm, waiting for my son’s taekwondo class to end, unable to open the doors or roll down the windows of the van for fear of ruining the interior by allowing a burst of torrential rain into the van, fearing the gas tank nearly empty and the battery dead, suffocating in the stale heavy air in the van, the allure of a circular pack of mints with the name Ice Breakers® was too strong.

Ice sure would be amazing. Wonder how it would feel in this stifling air to have just one of the tiny mints inside the package actually be made of ice: a tiny ice chip to cool me, to settle the unsettled, to quench the thirst, to help me forget the lack of a breeze in this self-inflicted prison cell inside my van. 

Popping the lid of the package open, I find a dozen tiny ice chips.  I violently and quickly throw one into my mouth.  The coolness was immediate.  The thirst is gone. The rain slows down long enough for me to open the door and feel a strong cool blast of a thunderstorm breeze blow on my face, or so it seemed.

Yes, I’ve gone certifiably insane, I decide.  It’s time for me to either make a dash for the building, go to the gas station to fill the tank, drive around town for awhile to make sure that the battery is charged, or continue to suffer in the van, being taunted by a package of mints.

Guess which one I chose.

 
 

No More Whine

Quit your whining and complaining.  And stop that temper tantrum right this minute.  Okay, so I couldn't resist this one, it was too good to pass up.  I was at the wine shop today for their Saturday afternoon wine tasting and came across this bottle of wine.  Pretty clever way to sell wine, and, seriously, with a label like this who cares if the wine actually tastes good, right? I didn't get to try this wine, but it might be fun to go back and get a bottle of this to save for a special occasion, that is, as long as I remember not to throw a Tempra Tantrum.  What a mess that would make!

Anyway, if for some reason I were to throw a Tempra Tantrum, I would end up needing a:

 

 
 

Eyes on the Prize

With spring finally here, the rains finally behind us (I think), and the beginning of summer not too far off, it’s been very hard to get the children focused on their homeschool.  Googie has been making great progress in his schoolwork all year long and only has about three or four weeks of lessons to complete.   Bubba has finally started to make some progress in his homeschool too.  But, all of a sudden, like Newton’s First Law of Motion, my children’s homeschooling motion is being acted upon by the external force of spring weather.

 

Just when they can actually see the prize: a summer filled with no school work, no cares, and endless fun; they start to dawdle, complain and waste time.  What would've taken one day to complete before the change in weather, is now taking almost a week to complete.  So, like Violet Beauregarde’s mother in the movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I find myself saying, “Eyes on the Prize, Violet.  Eyes on the Prize.” And when they start to complain that the work toward the end of the school year is always the hardest, I just smile and, like Willie Wonka told Violet in the movie, I  say, “Confidence is key.”

What I need is another force to act upon my inert children.  A force greater than the wonderful spring weather that we’ve been having.  I’ve tried threatening them with summer homeschool, but to them it just sounds like an empty threat.  I either need to find a way to make the threat more convincing, or I need to find something else: a different force.  The question is: what could that possibly be?

It Was Just a Ten Mile Run

A week ago, our Team in Training group ran twenty miles. Yes, I mean every individual person training for the full marathon ran twenty miles each (I didn’t want you to think that I meant that our individual miles added up to twenty overall). So when we showed up last Saturday for our weekly long run, we were excited to be running only ten miles. Having run ten miles before; having experienced running in the rain, cold, and heavy wind; feeling like running pros; we were all laughing at each other because it was just a ten mile run. We didn’t even need maps or directions to find our way. This would be a piece of cake!

A few months ago I would have considered a ten mile run to be a long run, the type of run that would make me tired, sore and unable to move for days; however, Saturday’s run felt like a regular short run. As is typical for me, I overdressed for the run because it was supposed to be really cold and rainy and I don’t like being cold or wet, but something funny happened.

(No, I don't mean the person in the picture above.) After half a mile, I realized that it was too hot to be wearing a jacket, so I took off my jacket while running and carried it for three miles until the first water stop, and then I left my jacket there. You heard that right, even though I'm the type of person who doesn't wear shorts during the summer unless it's above 80 degrees, sunny, and humid, I felt warm and I wasn’t even sick (that is if you don't think that running ten miles is sick).

At the halfway point (or mile five, whichever sounds shorter) I ate a gel pack. Well, it was more like I drank a gel pack, or did I eat it? Can you really eat something that isn’t exactly solid? Can you drink something that isn’t really a liquid? These are the types of mind-numbing things I was pondering during this run. I was also picturing how, if I didnt' wear so many layers of clothing or carry so many water bottles with me during the race, I could end up running really fast, so fast that I would pass everyone and end up winning the race.

The underdog wins the race!

Anyway, nothing exciting happened during this run, it was only ten miles what could happen? Unless you count that it started to get windy and cold with four miles left to run. That’s when I sped up to pick up the jacket I so carelessly discarded at the beginning of the run. Boy! Was I glad to have that jacket then. I quickly fetched the jacket, put it on, and was able to stay warm and dry for the remainder of the run. All in all, it was a rather uneventful run.

This was the last long run before the marathon. Now we start to taper our miles with our longest run between now and the marathon being a whopping six miles. We even have a mere three mile run next Monday—I’m not sure I would even call a three mile run, a run anymore. That’s what training for a marathon does to you; you lose any sense of what is normal.

In about two weeks, sometime after the marathon, I will start to regain my sense of normalcy. That's when I start training for my first triathlon, just kidding, I think.

Where’s Your Pencil?

We homeschool.  We buy pencils. We buy lots and lots of pencils. We buy pencils by the case, big cases of fancy, Ticonderoga pencils, the ones that sharpen nicely, have nice strong leads that don’t break, pencils that last a long time—well theoretically they would last a long time, but I will never find out if that’s true, because once I sharpen one of these pencils, they get sucked into the black hole that I’m convinced we have in our house.  

Yes, I can always find a brand-spankin’, new pencil in the top drawer of my desk, an everlasting supply of pencils.  And all would be well if I didn’t give them to the children. 

“Googie, here is your phonics assignment for the day, and a pencil.  Go work on this in the other room.  I’ll check with you in about fifteen minutes to see how you’re doing, okay?” I say to my son as I hand him a freshly sharpened pencil and his phonics page.

“Uh, huh,” he says and quickly scampers away.  Fifteen minutes later, I go searching for him all over the house.  Surprisingly, he’s not in the other room.  Pencil, phonics page, and child have all gone AWOL.  And, no, I really didn’t expect to find him in the room, but a mom can dream, a mom can believe, a mom can hope, that her child will actually listen to her.  After another fifteen minutes of searching, I find the child hiding in the bathroom, under a blanket, in the bathtub (no, he didn’t fill the tub with water), reading a book about (his current obsession) astronomy.

“What are you doing in here?”

“Nothing”

“Where’s your phonics page?”

“I don’t know,” he says, still under the blanket.  Realizing that asking him to try to find the phonics page and the pencil would waste a few hours, I decide to go looking for them myself. Fifteen minutes later I find the phonics page under a pile of books in the family room, but the pencil is nowhere to be seen. 

 

“Fine,” I say.  “Here is your phonics page and here is another pencil.  Let’s go over to the other room to work on the page together.”  I follow him to the other room. Ha! I drag him to the other room. 

  

He decides that he wants to sit on the floor to work on his phonics page; I sit on a chair right next to him and pretend to read a book in order to make sure that he’s focused on his work.  Five minutes later I look down to check on him.  “So, how much have you gotten done?”

“I’m almost done,” he says.  I check his page and notice that he has barely started the assignment.

“Where’s your pencil?” I ask.

“What pencil?”

“The one I just gave you.”

Who Would Run Eighteen Miles for Fun?

When thinking about fun things to do on the weekend I’m sure all of us think about running eighteen miles.  Nothing is more delightful than going to bed early Friday night, getting up early Saturday morning, bundling yourself in running clothes and running eighteen miles in below freezing weather. That’s what I was thinking last Friday when I was getting ready for my eighteen-mile, training run on Saturday.  I was so excited about this run that I didn’t get much sleep the night before. Excitement is my middle name (not really but it should be).  I’ve never run that distance, all at once, in my life. Sure, I’ve logged eighteen miles over the course of a week, but never all at once, straight through, in the same day.  

Yes, I’m training for a marathon. I’m still not sure why I thought that I should even try to run a marathon, but I think it had something to do with oxygen deprivation of the brain (all the oxygen going to my legs) and an overdose of endorphins during my last half-marathon race.  Oh, and don’t forget that cute, little, oval sticker that says“26.2” that I would be able to stick on my mini-van.  And it even comes in pink!  I can just see myself running through the finish line saying, “I did it all for the sticker.”  Seriously, though, I’m really running the race for the Team in Training program (TNT) to help raise funds for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (and for the STICKER!).

Thinking about running eighteen miles is one thing; looking at the route on a map is another.  When you’re thinking about running eighteen miles, the distance is just a number, like in math.  I’m so glad I learned math because it certainly was useful to know that eighteen was simply 16+2.  And, I had already gone on a sixteen mile run two weeks ago, so it was comforting to know that I was only going two miles farther than I had gone before—that was until I looked at the route on a map.  Then reality hit me really hard. “I’m doing what?”  I told myself.  Only a crazy person would think that running that route was a reasonable thing to do.  I didn’t come up with the route, some TNT coach did, so I knew that I wasn’t the crazy person.

Although it was bitterly cold and there was a wind, it was sunny and I found the weather to be perfect for running (that’s code for I tried not to think about it).  I had my MP3 player with a new playlist.  I was wearing three pairs of running pants, two pairs of gloves, a long sleeve shirt, a fleece vest, a jacket, a hat, wool socks and a pair of shoes.  Believe me, if it would’ve been possible to wear two pairs of shoes, I would’ve done it.  You see, I’m always cold, even when running, which is why for runners' standards, I was slightly overdressed.  But I was very comfortable (Ha! I was still cold). We weren’t even a mile into the run when another team member ran up to me to give me a pack of tissues that had fallen out of my jacket pocket—I didn’t even realize it had fallen out. It was the pack of tissues I was carrying because when I run, my nose runs with me.  

The run actually went pretty well.  I was able to run most of the way with another person from the team, and I kept meeting up with the coaches and some of the other team members at the water stops.  Even with two pairs of gloves, my hands were so cold and numb that I wasn’t able to open my gel pack at one of the water stops.  Fortunately, someone was there to help me open it.  Other than the pack of tissues falling out of my pocket, and not being able to open my gel package, the run actually went pretty well.  That is unless you count that I missed a turn on the route and ended up running an extra mile. It wouldn’t be a long run without me going the wrong way.

And now, time for the stats.  My eighteen mile run ended up being a nineteen mile run.  It took me half a day to finish (4:01 hours) and I burned 2,102 calories. See?  That’s why someone would run eighteen miles for fun. It’s all about the calories.

Math lesson #2: calories=fun.

Mom, I Can't Find Any Socks

 

I still don’t understand how it can take a child so long to get ready to leave the house.  It’s a fairly simple process.  Usually, he just needs to put on his socks and shoes, find his coat, and that’s it.  My guess is that it should take about ten minutes.  Obviously, I’m an optimistic person, either that or a very naïve one.

“Googie, did you put your shoes on yet?” I yell from the other room.

“Almost,” he replies.

“Hurry up.  We have to leave in ten minutes.”

“Mom, I can’t find my shirt,” he adds five minutes later.

“What? You just had a shirt on.” I continue to yell from the other room.

“Mom, I can’t find my shirt.” He whines. Then he adds, “Do you know where my shoes are?”

“They’re in the hall closet, right in front of you”

“No they’re not.  Mom , where did you put my shoes?”

“Put your shirt on,” I say as I start to walk over to him.  On the way, I find his shirt.  When I get there, he's in the hallway sitting in front of the closet, reading a book about astronomy, and drawing a diagram of a spiral galaxy.  Thank goodness he's still wearing his pants!  I reach into the hall closet, retrieve his shoes, and hand the shirt and shoes to him “Here are your shirt and shoes.  Where are your socks?”

“Mom,” he whines, “I can’t find any socks.”

“Did you look in your drawer?”

“Yes, there are no socks there.  There never are!”  he yells.  

Even though I remember having put socks in his drawer the day before, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. This child is known for wearing a new pair of socks each time he puts on his shoes, and he has a habit of putting clean clothes in the dirty clothes hamper. He's also known for losing socks and leaving them in unexpected places, so he might be right.  There might not be any socks in his room.  Not to be outdone, once, I conveniently left a big laundry basket full of unmatched socks in the laundry room.  That's right, I only did that once (Wait a second while I adjust my halo.  It's a bit crooked).  By now, I'm beginning to think that he might be right. 

“Did you look?  Let’s go over there right now and see if we can find any.”  We walk into his room and look in his sock drawer.

Obviously, it's been more than ten minutes by now, and we still have to wait for him to put on his socks, his shoes, and find his coat.  Oh, yes, we still have to find his coat, and we all know that his coat won't be in the hall closet like it was a few minutes ago.

Are We Praying Now or Talking About the Weather?

We start our school day with a family Rosary.  Now praying the Rosary can be a challenge with children, especially boys, but try to picture a Rosary in a house with boys that have ADHD, Tourette syndrome and Asperger syndrome.  It can get to be a challenge to stay focused and finish the Rosary.  Well, I found that watching a recording of EWTN’s Holy Land Rosary with Father Mitch Pacwa helps us to stay focused and keeps the Rosary going even with distractions.  Since today was Friday, we were praying the Sorrowful Mysteries.

This is how it went today:

“In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.  I believe in God the Father Almighty…”

“Hey, look, it’s snowing outside,” Bubba notices.

“Focus, we’re praying,” I say.

Continuing with Father Pacwa  “…Who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary…”

“But, Mom, look it’s snowing and it’s above freezing.  See, the snow is wet and…”

“Are we praying now or talking about the weather?”  I ask.  The boys start laughing, but we’re able to continue pretty well until we get to the second sorrowful mystery, the Scourging at the Pillar.

“Here we are standing outside the church of the Flagellation,” says Father Pacwa.  The boys start laughing.  Okay, it’s not as if they haven’t been watching this program now for years.

“Ha, ha, he said flatulation,” says Googie.

“No, he said flagellation, I heard flagellation,” insists Bubba.

“Kids,” I begin.

“Baaa,” interrupts Bubba.

“Focus,” I demand, “Have some reverence. We’re praying!” 

Somehow, with God’s help, we were able to finish the Rosary.  And the day had just started.

My Running Shoes

"How many pairs of running shoes do you need?" asks Hubby as I innocently bat my eyelashes and reply, "two."

"I was just wondering because you seem to have about four pairs in the closet right now," he says.

"No, I only have two pairs of running shoes in there right now," I insist.

Later, I go digging around in the closet and find that I do indeed have four pairs of running shoes in the closet.  But wait, actually I was right when I said I only had two pairs of running shoes because I'm only using two of those pairs as shoes to run with, which I would argue is the correct definition of running shoes.  The other two pairs are merely retired running shoes, like retired greyhound dogs, which I no longer use for running.  One of these pairs is my walking-around-the-house shoes, and the other pair is my walking-around-outside-of-the-house shoes.

So I felt righteous.  I had the right number of running shoes.  Each of these four pairs had their specific function.  I had no more and no less than the right number of shoes that any normal, running person would need; two pairs for running and two pairs for everyday use.  End of story. The end.

Uh, no. Well that's what I told myself until I started finding more of my running shoes.  I think that they were breeding while I was sleeping, sigh.  I found another pair shoved way, way back in the closet under a pile of shoe insoles (don't ask, that's another story).  Then I found another pair in the basket of shoes in the front hall closet.  Then recently, I was looking around in the garage and found another pair of them in the hiking-boot basket in the garage, bringing the total number of pairs to seven.  That is, until I went out onto the back patio with the dog and found another pair covered with cobwebs, leaves and who-knows-what.  That's right, eight!

So next time Hubby asks me how many pairs of running shoes I need, I will know the answer, "Eight, duh!"

Don't Worry About It

This statement, coming from my 8 year old, is definitely cause to worry. Yep, he could be running around acting crazy, making all kinds of noise, harassing his brother, but when he's really quiet and he says, "Don't worry, Mom."  That's when I worry.

"Goggie, did you finish your math?"

"Don't worry, Mom"

"Did you put your shoes away?"

"Don't worry."

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Don't worry."

And of course, here's my favorite one.  You know, when it's completely quiet...you can hear a pin drop...

"Goggie, what are you doing?"

"Mom! Don't worry about it."

A r r g h ! ! !

Thy Feet Are Cold

Okay, I have to write about this. The kids and I begin our school day with a Rosary. Also, I'm known for feeling cold all the time. The kids laugh at me all the time because I walk around the house with my "I'm freezing" jacket on and hat on my head. Sometimes I'm so cold that I even have to wear winter gloves and jump around doing jumping jacks and running in place to warm up. Well, the other day we were sitting on the sofa in the living room praying the Rosary. Googie was in one side of me (to keep me warm) and Bubba was sitting next to me on the other side. Bubba kept putting his cold feet really close to me, and I kept telling him (over and over) to not put his feet next to me because they were cold. It got to where he just kept doing it and finally, as I was praying the Lord's Prayer I started: "Our Father, Who art in Heaven. Hallowed be thy name. " Then pushing Bubba's feet from me I said, "Thy feet are cold." Boy we coudn't stop laughing for at least 10 minutes. Ever since, when we sit down to pray the Rosary, Googie starts laughing uncontrollably.

Bunny Brains & Green Snake Tails

We are happy to say that Googie is finally eating "real" food, and he sure had fun eating dinner the other day. Hubby had made a dinner of lamb shanks, asparagus, and wild mushroom risotto. We expected Goggie to put up a fuss over eating dinner (like usual); however, Junior had warned him ahead of time that Dad was fixing bunny brains for dinner. Googie was so excited, he couldn't wait to eat it. Hubby put a lamb shank on Googie's plate along with a few asparagus tips and mushroom risotto while Junior kept telling him that the lamb shanks were bunny brains. Well, let me tell you he ate a total of five "bunny brains" with "blood" (ketchup). Then he proceeded to eat all his "green rattlesnake tails" (asparagus tips) washing them down with a tall, icy glass of "saliva" (water), and he ate the risotto. How's that for creative parenting?

Praying the Rosary and Laminating Holy Cards

Oh Joy!

The other day our homeschool group had a prayer group for moms. We had so much fun getting together and being silly. It wasn't until I started explaining to Hubby what we were doing that I realized how ridiculous it sounded, "Yeah, honey. We had a blast last night at the homeschooling prayer group meeting. We prayed the rosary and couldn't stop laughing because of the fun we were having. Then the teenagers went to the other room to practice singing religious songs while the moms sat in the family room laminating holy cards. Yeah, we all sat around staring at the laminator and going, 'Oooh, that is sooo cool, I need one of those.' And we weren't even drinking." Anyways, Hubby just gave me a weird look and commented on how I needed to get out more (which is what I thought I had been doing at that meeting) and Bubba just couldn't stop laughing and kept asking me about the laminating machine.

Quiet!

Don't you love Bill Cosby? A few days ago we sat down with the older kids to watch Bill Cosby Himself on HBO and the kids really loved it. Bubba's favorite part was when Bill Cosby fed his kids chocolate cake for breakfast, "Daddy's great...he feeds us chocolate cake." Junior just laughed during the whole thing. My favorite quote is, "Parents are not interested in fair. They are interested in quiet." Too funny!

Christmas Songs in August?

Yes, I'm already singing Christmas songs; however there is a catch. We always like to make fun of the "Little Drummer Boy" song because it really is hard to sing in Choir. It's "the" Christmas Carol to make fun of. Because of this, a couple of Christmases ago I started to sing it something like this: I like tequila but please give me some rum. I had sangria but always prefer to have rum. This pina colada's great 'cause it's made with some rum. I like my coke 'case it goes well with my rum. Rum rum rum rum, rum rum rum rum... Me and my rum rum...

It gets everyone laughing here.