Nov 19, 2011

True Story.

I wish this were fiction or about someone else, but it isn't. It is a true story about me.
I spent most of the morning cleaning up the house and getting extra beds ready for my sister's arrival on Monday. By late afternoon I was done with the house and eager to get a run in before it got dark.
A little secret about my running style. I am not a good runner. I don't run because I love it or I'm particularly good at it. I run because I would rather do a cardio workout outside than in the gym and I'm not quite skilled enough to cycle at more than a leisurely pace. I also run for distance not time. Instead of setting a goal to run for 30 or 45 minutes, I set a goal for a distance of 3 or 4 miles. What is the difference? If I run faster, I get done quicker and I can kick off those running shoes and get on with my day. If I run slow, the longer it takes for me to get home.
Today, I wanted to be done. It was freezing cold outside and curling up in a fuzzy blanket on the couch with a book and a cup of coffee was calling my name. So today wasn't about running intervals or running while taking in the beauty of the fall leaves on the ground, today was about getting done!
I set out at a good clip and stayed really strong for the first 2 miles. I felt good. I felt strong. I had some tunes playing on my ipod but I wasn't really listening to them. Instead, I was locked into a daydream. In my dream I was running a marathon and still feeling strong. I was 20 miles in and had just 6.2 left to go. I was feeling fierce. I was a running fool. Then it happened. My marathon race daydream came to an abrupt end when I suddenly found myself flying through the air. I felt like I was in a cartoon. I was suspended in the air grasping for something to reach out to in order to prevent a face-plant on the pavement but nothing appeared. Instead, my right hand and my left elbow absorbed the full force of the weight of my body crashing down onto the chilly pavement.
The shock, the shame, the blood. Not a lot of blood but I managed to get a few patches of road rash on my hands and wrist and I cut open the tip of my finger. Don't ask, I have no idea how I have a tip of the finger injury. My elbow was instantly sore and throbbing. When I looked at it I realized I shredded the sleeve of my very favorite North Face lightweight down jacket. Then I wanted to cry. Skin, muscles, and bone can heal but the fabric of my coat....done for.
I was on the verge of crying and laughing. Crying because I was in a bit of pain and as I mentioned, I tore my coat. Laughing because it is super funny that I was too engrossed in my little fake marathon daydream to pay attention to the stones under my feet!
I pulled myself up off the ground, put some gloves on my hands to ease the pain of my little open wounds in the chilly air (those would have saved my flesh if I had them on instead of in my pocket when I fell), I adjusted my newly altered jacket, and set out to finish this run. I ran the rest of the way home without incident and managed to log a really good time.
I could wrap this up and talk about how this is a great life lesson: keep your eyes on the path or you will stumble and fall. Or I could say it is a story about pressing on, even when you fall on our face. But really, it is just a story about how I tripped and fell today while running and I think the lady that witnessed the event is probably still laughing and she would have darn near peed her pants if she knew why I tripped.

Nov 11, 2011

Happy Veteran's Day....

At dinner tonight Matt and I were talking about the bank being closed because it was Veteran's day. Gabe heard us and announced that he was a Veteran. I had to do some follow-up:
Me: Why do you think you are a Veteran?
Gabe: because I don't eat meat.
This left me speechless for a moment. I finally composed myself and explained the difference between a veteran and a vegetarian!
Just as I finished clearing that up, Eli chimes in with new information on his Veteran status:
"My teacher said that the kids in my class are kind of like veterans because even though we are not the Army guys, we have to still move around and leave our friends and live in new places and have to deal with our dad's being gone and stuff so she decided that she was going to honor US on Veteran's Day. And when she told us this, she was crying."
How can I argue with that?
Happy Veteran's Day to my husband a member of the US Army for 16 years, a veteran of OIF and the "war on terror", to all soldiers, airmen, sailors and marines who have given their time to serve in the US Armed Forces, and to the children of those soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines whose lives are also effected by their parent's decision to serve.

Nov 5, 2011

Writing on the Wall

My bathrooms are disgusting. I clean them....daily but my scrubbers, bleach wipes, and lysol spray are no match for the male people in my life.
Each bathroom has a toilet with a) a flushing mechanism b) a toilet brush for further poo removal c) clorox bleach wipes to rid the seat, floor and wall of any accidental drippings and d) me readily available to assist in any clean-ups that may be required if one feels the need for back-up.
And yet..... I regularly, I'm talking DAILY walk into a bathroom to be greeted by urine or something worse simmering in the toilet.
So, I decided I needed to place a little reminder in the boys' bathroom. The walls are tile. This makes cleaning the bathroom thoroughly easy. I start with the toxic spray at the top of the wall and wipe down every square of the wall and floor tile.... tile walls also provide a handy place to use a dry-erase marker to leave little notes. Or in this case, big notes.
Flush = flush the toilet.
Clean= make use of the toilet brush if needed and those clorox wipes stored under the sink.
Lid= put the entire lid down.
Wash= wash your hands.
Tonight I walked into the bathroom and below this blaring writing on the wall was a toilet with the lid up and poop in the toilet. I went high-side on the boys. I weeded out the owner of the little treasure left in the toilet and then went crazy on him.
Really. Even if you don't do the cleaning just flush the toilet. FLUSH the TOILET!!!
I managed to lower my blood pressure long enough to utter the words to our new toilet policy:
Effective immediately there will be a $1 fine imposed for all non-flushing incidents.
One way or another I will conquer my stinky bathrooms once and for all!