Blubbering fool

I'm not really a crier. Sometimes my throat closes, and I get this funny itch in my nose like I'm going to sneeze, and I feel like crying, but I just am not much of a crier. The movie Rudy makes me cry, as does ET. I cry when I have the flu or a fever of 103 or something. I've gotten really angry before and burst out crying, much to my surprise and chagrin. Still, I'm not much of a crier.

Today started as a normal day. I went to work, acted belligerent in a staff meeting, took a long lunch, worked late, came home to run, saw Radford and gave him a distant high five, and came in to eat some peanut butter and do some situps.

I turned on the tv. Watched some Singing Bee. Watched Beauty and the Geek for about 2 minutes which was my first and last 2 minutes of that show. Then I saw that Nova was on. It was a special about marathoners. They put together a team of sedentary people and led them through training for the Boston Marathon. They all overcame the normal training challenges of a novice runner and then trudged through the marathon like I did. Sadly, they were all faster than me I think, but they had the 3 time winner of the Boston to train them, so I guess I can't beat myself up too badly.

Watching them cross the finish line, though, I started getting that little tickle in my throat, and then the tears came. I was like Jerry Seinfeld: "My God, what is this salty discharge? Is this crying?" I was blubbering like a baby. Watching them cross brought back all the emotion from the day of. Wow. It was like PTSD but kind of good PTSD. Maybe it's Post Triumphal Stress Disorder. It just made me realize that the coaches were right when they told me to take my time, take it all in, remember this marathon. There is nothing in the world like your first marathon. Nothing.

It's been awhile

Haven't done a meme in awhile, so I thought I'd do one.

1. IF YOU COULD BUILD A SECOND HOUSE ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD IT BE?
Italy, probably; maybe Switzerland

2. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE ARTICLES OF CLOTHING?
I actually like being naked best, but a close second would be dance clothes or my running shorts.

3. THE LAST CDs YOU BOUGHT?
Breaking Benjamin

4. WHAT TIME DO YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING?
9ish unless I am running a long run. Then I get up at 4am.

5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE KITCHEN APPLIANCE?
Coffee maker

6. IF YOU COULD PLAY AN INSTRUMENT, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
cello

7. FAVORITE COLOR?
Indigo

8. WHICH VEHICLE DO YOU PREFER, SPORTS CAR, MOTORCYCLE, OR SUV?
sports car

9. DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE AFTERLIFE?
yes

10. FAVORITE CHILDREN'S BOOK?
My father read me classics like Hamlet when I was little, but I distinctly remember this book called Peppermints in the Parlor. I read it over and over.

11. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON?
Autumn

12. IF YOU HAVE A TATTOO, WHAT IS IT?
Don't have one. Thought about getting 26.2.

13. IF YOU COULD HAVE ONE SUPERPOWER, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
I already have one. I can make TVs explode and lights blow out. I also attract bugs and wildlife.

14. CAN YOU JUGGLE?
a little

15. ONE PERSON/PEOPLE FROM YOUR PAST YOU WISH YOU COULD GO BACK AND TALK TO?
my grandparents

16. WHAT IS UNDER YOUR BED?
hopefully a sexy man

17. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DAY?
Kimday

18. WHICH DO YOU PREFER, SUSHI OR HAMBURGER?
Hamburger

19. FROM THE PEOPLE WHO NORMALLY READ YOUR BLOG, WHO IS THE MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND FIRST?
I didn't realize someone was supposed to respond

20. ON WHICH BLOG DID YOU FIND THIS MEME?
Rhetoric and Democracy

21. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLOWER?
Iris, maybe. I like Calla Lilies, too. Daisies are nice.

23. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MEAL?
anything 5 star with wine

24. DESCRIBE YOUR PJS.
like I only have one pair...

25. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BREAKFAST?
eggs benedict, whole wheat pancakes, fresh squeezed oj, cottage fries, and a mimosa; either that or huevos con papas

26. DO YOU LIKE YOUR JOB?
sometimes

27. WHAT IS YOUR DREAM JOB?
writer, maybe; educational consultant

28. WHAT AGE DO YOU PLAN TO RETIRE?
never

29. WHERE DID YOU MEET YOUR SPOUSE OR SIGNIFICANT OTHER?
I will meet him on a downtown sidewalk in a rainstorm. I'll probably be eating a bagel and wearing a red raincoat. I don't own a red raincoat, but that's what the crystal says (the one in my lap right now), so it must be right.

30. SOMETHING YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO THAT YOU HAVE NEVER DONE BEFORE.
take Latin dancing lessons with a partner who dances well and smells amazing

4020 baby

I finished 4020th overall out of over 23,000 runners. Not too shabby for a turtle!

BTW, the girl who won finished in a little over 3 hours, and she rode a racing chair propelled by one hand. Unbelievable strength to go up those hills.

26.2 is the new 30

or so says my shirt.

I did it. I finished. I'm done.

Many people are asking me how I did. I'm not sure how to answer that. Do they want to know my time? my rank? whether or not I did a face plant halfway through? Well, I'll answer all of those in the chronology of a marathon below:

Pre race--2 days of last minute runs, sign ins, making commercials for nike, etc. The pre race pasta party was amazing. We entered the convention center, walked across the floor and up the escalators while being cheered on both sides by a line of leukemia survivors and battlers. I almost broke into tears. It was overwhelming.

The starting line-- I woke up at 3:30 to eat my breakfast, a banana. I peed 3 times before walking out the door, just to prevent having to stand in line at portapotties on the way. Wearing my old sweatshirt over my singlet, I headed out into th cold to walk a 1/2 mile to the starting line. Stretched. Jogged in place. Lined myself up with Tiffany's for luck. And then the countdown and HONK, we're off.

Mile 1--we wove through the financial district. I had heeded my coach's advice to take it slow. That meant I walked. Spirits were high. People were cheering. It was still dark.

Mile 2--I don't remember. Somehow I missed it. One minute I started the race, and the next I saw the 3 mile marker. huh.

Mile 3--making the bend toward Fisherman's Wharf. There were cheerleaders here and a water stop. Someone took my picture. I was thinking, who in the hell wants my picture. It was our event captain. Thank God.

Mile 4--Fisherman's Wharf. Coolest thing. The sea lions were all barking. I think they were saying: "Go Kim!"

Mile 5--Ghiradelli Square. Another water stop and a Gwen Stefani look alike. Still dark. Still taking it slow. A little freaked out while looking at Alcatraz when a few spirited people jumped out at us wearing prison garb and clanking pans together. Ha ha! Real funny.

Mile 6-9--The presidio climb. This was the start of the massive hills. We basically wound our way up from 0 elevation to 295 in 3 miles. It was awesome to watch the sun come up over the Golden Gate. Wow. This, btw was the point where my bladder decided to go into hyperdrive. I had to dash off course to find someplace to pee away from cops. I must've lost 15 minutes of time doing so. My running partner for the race didn't make it and peed on herself. She was not happy.

Mile 9--DJ Stop. Again had to pee. WTF? There was a portapotty this time. This was also where I ditched my sweatshirt. This is the point when I started keeping my normal pace, which was actually faster than normal because it was so nice and cool.

Mile 10--ran through Robin Williams' neighborhood. I'm still chipper at this point, except for the urgent need to pee again. Luckily, there was a portapotty right in front of Robin's house, so I used it. Then met up with my coach who said, "I am so glad to see you smiling at this point. You are doing AWESOME on time!" I was surprised by that comment since I had been specifically taking it slow. Then again, I did book it up the hill for 3 miles. Walked, but booked it.

Mile 11--I love mile 11. The entire mile was a plummet downhill to 0. I ran like Phoebe with arms waving wildly. My coach told me to run with big strides in almost a leap. I pulled out my inner ballerina and did split leaps down the hill. Looked like a gazelle. I think I flew! First time in my life I ever did a 7 minute mile. Awesome.

Mile 12. Stretched a little at the water stop to allow my partner to catch up. I got a little carried away. Still feeling fantastic. We're in Golden Gate Park at this point, my favorite part of the course. The only bad thing was that it was a loop, so on the other side of the street, you could see the elite runners at their mile 16. Ah well. There was a fork in the road here, too. At this point, you had to make a quick decision as to whether to bail out to the half marathon part of the fork or the full. We chose the road most traveled--the full. Felt fantastic. Told my partner that I was addicted. We HAD to do another marathon for sure. Whohoooooo! She agreed. Whohoooooo!

Mile 13.1--halfway through. Felt great. Gave silent kudos to coaches for the advice on taking it slow. I have never felt this good at a 13 mile point. The camaraderie at this point was awesome, too. Other than the elites who were focused on zooming past, everyone would wave and yell Go _____ (our names were on our singlets). People would run backwards to help pick up other people and get them going again. It wasn't competitive. It was awesome. I finally loved running. Ran with another coach who said, "You are awesome. Wow. I am really impressed. Keep going."

Mile 14-16--this was the loop back around to where we were at 12. Waved at all the other runners. Cheered. Yea! Whooooooped for a girl whose poster read, "Kick Leukemia's ass." Whohoooooo! Ate my salt tab.

Mile 16--Still feeling fantastic. This was one of the coolest miles. It was a half mile long tunnel with hi def screens on each side, reading your timing chips and telling you how far you've gone, cheering you by name and playing some sort of high energy club music. And then Lance Armstrong appears and says, "You can do it!" I know, Lance. I know! Whooooooooooooo the adrenaline through that tunnel!!!!!

Mile 17--doin' good. doin' good. Blisters kinda hurtin' on my feet at this point, but doing good. Whew! It's hot as hell. What the hell is making me so hot? Damn, it's hot. Wtf? and wtf is that smell? OMG. That stinks. Oh crap, it's the zoo. OMG that stinks, and it's hot. Why is it so hot? We're on the Great Highway at this point. Look down at my watch. We had to make mile 18 by noon or they'd escort us off the course in a cop car. It's 9:57. Wohooo! I will make it.

Mile 18--10:08. Made it. No cop cars for me! At this point I had been running for 4 hours and 38 minutes. Low end average marathoners usually have finished by this point. In fact, I know this because I could see them looping back to the finish line, but that's ok. Actually, that wasn't ok because it was freakin' hot. What the hell? The sun was just beaming down on the left hand side of my face. Damn. In fact, it was so bright I couldn't see anything. Had to look down at my feet to see the road. Freakin' hot. My teammate reminds me that I only have 8 more miles to go. Holy crap. 8??? That is so easy. I can do 8! Energy back. Ate a gu. Doin' ok.

Mile 19--This is the farthest I had ever run. Every step from that point was new territory, and I felt a hell of a lot better than I did the last time I ran it. I felt like I normally did at 10, for gods' sake. Whohooo (a little quieter and more subdued but still whoohoooo). At the end of 19 we entered what was supposed to be the worst part of the course, Lake Merced. Wikipedia has a nice pretty picture of Lake Merced. Trust me, it isn't pretty. We were on the outside running in the traffic, though, so maybe it's prettier when you are inside the tree line.

Mile 20--this is the wall for most people, but it didn't break me. Partner still doing fine. I'm starting to understand, though, why this lake is the worst. No water stops. No entertainment. Just traffic and honking and obnoxious people laughing at you. And the fucking sun! WTF!

Mile 21--partner breaks down. Some guy is playing "Just the Two of us" on a 1980s boombox. Her dad died of leukemia. This was his favorite song. So we stop for awhile and talk about how he knows this is her wall and he's cheering her on. about 10 minutes later, we're up and at it again. Truthfully, I think this little pit stop was the beginning of the end. If I had just kept going, my feet would've been ok, but how can you leave someone crumpled up crying? Plus, she helped my ass get motivated again at 18! And you know, that's what I loved about this marathon. Women were stopping and helping people get through. This was also the Mission Mile. They covered it with signs made by the honored teammates (people with leukemia). Teammates were there cheering us. I choked up here. Really brought home what I was doing this for.

Mile 22--up and at 'em again. Slower. Much slower. Still running, though. Feet starting to hurt really bad. Stopped at an aid station to break open my blisters and salve them. It was like in boxing when they cut your eye and grease it. Kinda cool but not. Send Glinda a text from the aid station: "I can't remember who I am." Back on my feet. Silence all around. Everyone hates the lake. I'm still ok, though. No wall yet. Still going. going. going.

Mile 23--errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr KABOOM! I slammed into the wall headfirst. I could literally feel it. My head felt like it was being sucked into a wormhole. My feet felt like millions of fire ants were stinging them and some oaf was trying to beat up the fire ants with a 2x4 with nails in it. My back hurt to breathe. Some prissy girl with I love Jesus on her shirt who had been uber chipper up until about 22 suddenly says, "I am so sick of this SHIT!" I tried to laugh but it hurt my back. My lips suddenly went numb. I asked my partner if this was normal. She said, "um, I think numb lips are a sign of heatstroke (she says this very slowly and slurred) drink." I drank what was left in my fuel belt. Keep in mind we hadn't had a water stop since 18, so I couldn't refill it. I forgot where I was milewise. The person next to me, oh yeah, my running partner, couldn't remember either. All I knew was that we were still running around the Lake of No Return. Jesus! The half bottle of water helped me come back to life a bit. At this point, my partner says she can't keep up anymore and to leave me. I wanted to stop. I swear I did, but I couldn't. If I stopped, I would stop completely. I couldn't stop. She gave me permission to continue. I did.

Mile 24--big fucking hill. They told me there were no more hills. yet here it is, a big fucking hill. One of my coaches sees me at this point, "Come on. keep going. You're doing great. Great view at the top of the hill." I had to keep myself in check to not say, "I don't give a damn about a great view. i want a chair and some fucking water." Still no water stop, but I was back up on the Great Highway. Great, I realized at this point, meant long and expansive, not fantastic. See, the thing is, cardiovascularly I was ok. I was exhausted mentally more than anything else. Running for that long is taxing on the brain, and now I was alone. I just wanted to stop running.

Mile 25--I can see the water stop. I make it there. Ooops. We're out of water. It's hot today, sorry. we have gatorade, though. Now one would think that gatorade would be a nice alternative. NOT WHEN YOU WANT WATER! Something odd happens when you run long distances. Your body takes over. It tells you what it wants, and it's specific. I wanted water. They didn't have it. I drank Gatorade and started sniffling. I couldn't cry. I felt like crying. My feet were crying. my diaphragm heaved like I was crying, and my throat got all vaklempt, hut the tears wouldn't come. Maybe it was the dehydration. All I could do was whimper quietly, and whimper I did. Coach calls to me, "Come on, Kim, there's a blue box waiting for you." I say, "I don't give a damn about a blue box. I just want my fucking flip flops." But I start shuffling instead of lumbering. They all (random people and coach) cheer, "That's it Kim. Good job. Keep going. Don't let it get you." I run a little harder, still shuffling, though.

Mile 25.5--I see Edgy. He's there to run the rest of the way with me. I whimper a little about wanting flip flops and ask for water. He doesn't have any. I whimper again. He says, "See that tent. It's the finish line. you can do it." I do. I see the tent. I do. it's there, and at the end of that tent are my flip flops. Once I hit that tent I don't have to run anymore. Motivation beyond belief. Edgy stops to tie his shoes and says, "I'll catch up with you. Keep going." And something hit me. I didn't want to run anymore, and if I ran really fast, that not running would come sooner! Yeah! I am going to run fast. Really fast. And I took off like a rocket. I zig zagged around people. People were cheering, "Yeah, Kim! Doing AWESOME. Look at you!!!" I barely heard them. I was breaking the speed of sound.

Mile 26--I see the corral. I enter it. It sucks me in like a black hole. I can't even hear screams anymore. It was surreal, like being on the red carpet at the Oscars. I feel that urge to cry again, and I do sort of but in gasp like whimpers. I cross the finish line in a huge leap, and whimper some more, forgetting to look at the clock or stop my watch. I get my blue box from some man in a tux and realize that i didn't lift my arms in a Y (Sorry prax). I'm done. I can walk. I'm done.

Post race--I can't describe the horrible mess afterwards. it's like you're on a moving sidewalk at disneyland that takes you to get a shirt (which you hope is the right size) and get your chip taken off and takes you to get your half sandwich and chips. I didn't think I was hungry until I took a bite. Then I inhaled my lunch. Edgy caught up at this point saying, "jesus. That was fast. Holy crap, when did you learn to run like that? I tied my shoe, looked up and you weren't even in view." All I knew is I wanted out of this hell. OMG it was crowded and awful. and then we had to climb a fucking hill to the bus.

Now it's been 2 days, and I finally am able to understand what it is that I just accomplished. Houston alone raised $400,000 for Leukemia, and the event raised $18.4 million together. This year alone, TNT has raised $600 million. And I ran a marathon. And I'm going to do it again.

oh god

I'm going to puke.

What in the hell did I get myself into? I get on a plane in 9 hours. I have to run a marathon in less than 3 days.

oh god.

Radford

I mentioned before that I have a new running partner. He's a raccoon. I've named him Radford. Rad used to hang with me by the pool while I swam/ran like an idiot during the hurt foot saga. He'd dangle his little paw in the water and watch me bob up and down like a spasticated buoy. He'd also tag along with me on my actual runs around the nature preserve, running with the same ungainly gait as me so as not to make me feel stupid about myself.

Lately, though, I've been on a taper, so I haven't been running. Radford has been left confused, alone. So he has begun meeting me at my garage each night. He waits for me to get out of my car and then follows me to my stairwell. I've told him time and time again that I have no food for him and that I signed a clause specifically forbidding me from feeding the woodland creatures (even the ones who hang out under my ass for shelter from the storms, yes). It doesn't matter to him. He just cocks his head and sometimes walks up and taps me on the shoe. He's been there everyday for 2 weeks, and tonight was no exception.

I love Radford.

Pinenut, also the name of a city

OMG, my left tonsil is the size of a freakin' Brazil nut! I guess the exhaustion after the 8 mile run was not the goblins breaking loose ahead of time but instead the pathogens. I slept all day yesterday, and I could've done so today had I not spent the ENTIRE day on the phone trying to find a doc.

My doc, in my old 'hood, is off on Mondays. Actually, she's off on Mondays, Tuesdays, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, but who's counting. God, I need to be a doctor. So I'm scrounging around trying to find a doc that is 1)on my insurance plan and 2) somewhere in Stepford--er--I mean Clear Lake. The first person I called is not practicing right now because she is under disciplinary action by the board of medicine. Would I like to make an appointment for the future? Um, NO.

The second person looked fine on paper until I called and the receptionist said, "Hello, Geriatric Ward." Um, NO.

So then I start going even further down the BCBS PPO list: 1) Let's see, um, Doc U? Oh right, that's the idiot who was convinced I had a venereal disease while she gave me a pelvic bc she was concerned about an abnormal amount of lube in my nether regions. Turns out she forgot she had already applied the KY Jelly, and her PA had to remind her. Then she starts laughing and snorts right in my crotch. NO THANK YOU. 2) Doc P, oh right. That's the BITCH who called me obese when I "ballooned" up to a size 8 during my "I hate working in public schools" phase.

So then I call Doc somebody or other. I was on the phone listening to Josh Groban's greatest hits for 15 minutes without talking to a single human. I finally hung up, went to Chinese class, bought last minute crap for my marathon, and drank a cappuccino before calling her back. I drove from Montrose to Clear Lake on hold listening to Beethoven's greatest hits--still no human. Finally, I made it home, called again, made dinner, cleaned out my purse, fed my cats, and unpacked a box (no I'm not finished unpacking) while listening to yanni's greatest hits, when finally I got a human. She told me that out of 16 doctors in what I call an assembly line clinic, no one could see me for 2 weeks. She actually tried to make me an appt for 2 weeks from now. I said, "Lady, my tonsil is swollen the size of a Brazil nut...[insert explanation to the lady as to exactly how large a Brazil nut is]...and it's patched with something white which can't be something good I'm thinking, and I'm not waiting to see how much larger it can get. I don't need open heart surgery. I don't need an enema even. I just need someone to scrape my throat with a little popsicle stick and give me some antibiotics. 10 min max." Her answer: "I'll call you back."

20 min later, she called me back, and I have an appointment with someone who is not a doctor and might actually be a worker from the ice cream store down the street, but nevertheless, she'll see me and after I sign paperwork saying it's ok for a non-doc to give me antibiotics, I can see her.

What is wrong with this picture? I can call and get a pizza delivered within 15 minutes. I can get a hair appointment from hair magic Paul, a hot commodity, the same day. When I call my dentist, I can get in within 5 minutes, and she's the only one working. My cats can get in to see the vet within 20 minutes of me calling. Why can't I get in to see a doctor? Do I need to start randomly making monthly appointments just in case I am sick? WTF?

Midlife Crisis?

Hopefully, I am not at midlife yet, but I am definitely having some sort of crisis. At first I thought it was just Restless Ass Syndrome. I get RAS from time to time and generally feel the need to move my ass to a different city, find my ass a new job, or change boyfriends. Sometimes it is simply cured by buying a new pair of pants. Sometimes not.

This, though, is something entirely different.

First of all, I've lost my normal exuberance for Kimday. Yes, I still advertise it the way you'd advertise that girl scout cookies will be for sale in February, but I'm not really into it this year. Last year, there were multiple celebrations in cities across the universe . Now I just feel blah. I guess once Santa comes to your birthday celebration, you've officially jumped the shark. Sigh.

So that's a travesty in and of itself. Then there's the issue of age. Age has never really bothered me because in the past, I've been kept from doing things because I'm too young but never because I was too old. Now I'm being told right and left that I can't do things. I don't even want to do these things, but I still can't. For instance, in every club bathroom, you always see flyers for people who want your eggs. I don't want to sell my eggs, but damnit, if I did want to, I couldn't. Apparently 32 is the cutoff point. If I don't sell my eggs within 24 days, they become null and void. This makes me want to run out and sell an egg, not because I want to but because in 24 days, I can't. I'm like the expired milk in my fridge. See? Crisis!

Then there's the air force. I don't want to join the air force. I'd lose my mind in the air force, but if I don't join within the next 2 years and 24 days, I can't ever join again. This upsets me. I don't know why.

Plus, I've jumped into new categories on surveys. The bastard little things put younger people in smaller categories: 18-21; 21-23; 23-25, etc. Where am I? 30-45. WTF? There is a distinct difference between 30 and 45, thank you very much. Hmph.
And I'm eeking on up there for medical stuff, too. Every commercial tells me that in 2 years and 24 days I'll be at greater risk for blah blah blah. It's like a little band of goblins are released from their cage inside your body when you hit 35, rendering you useless with every blow of their little green hands. In 2 years and 24 days, that will happen to me.

Plus, the number 33--how boring is that. Nothing happens at 33 except that the church killed Jesus, and if I keep working where I'm working much longer, the church might kill me, too.

Plus, in a week and 1 day, I have to run a marathon. What if it breaks open the goblin cage early? I'm so freaked out that I just keep eating junk food--strange junk food that I crave with a passion. Right now, for breakfast, I'm eating fritos and bean dip? WTF? Bean dip? Who eats bean dip? Who eats fritos for that matter? and I'm drinking a vitamin water. Eugh. The bean dip tastes better than that.

And I only ran 8 miles yesterday because we are tapering to save our bodies from exploding. I feel like a truck ran over me today. After running 18 miles, I can dance all night and wake up without a pain, but an 8 mile slacker run/walk did me in? Of course, the bottle of wine and mass quantities of fried food the night before probably didn't help. Still.

So Kimday approacheth, and I'll be in Cali running away from it. Blah.

Huh!

So I've been reading this book by Dawn Dais about being a marathoner when you aren't a marathoner or even a runner at all really.

I read each of her journal entries after I've logged the same number of miles as her, and I just finished my post and read her log for the 4 days before her marathon. It started out with OH CRAP, too, and she shared nearly the same as my sentiments! So, seriously, Ms. Dais, no plagiarism intended. I just share your pain.

She finished. If she can finish, I can, right?

"Oh crap!" [Dais 190].

Oh Crap!

Oh Crap. Oh Crap. Oh Crap.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I am going to run a marathon in a little over a week! OMG.

Seriously, what the hell was I thinking? It didn't quite set in until tonight when I picked up my singlet and race packet. OMG.

'Cause see, here's the thing: I'm a total sucker for movies like Rudy and any movie with William H. Macy like Door to Door, that movie about the Watkins salesman. They choke me up. The underdog overcomes all obstacles and tells people to basically kiss their ass. I get all misty eyed, and my throat closes up. That's what happened with this marathon. They show me pictures of these kids crying as they watch people crossing the finish line for them with this crescendoed music in the background, and I become butter, reaching into my pocket for my checkbook and slicing my arm open to sign my name on the dotted line in blood.

That was May. In May, the marathon seemed like something I was gonna do, maybe.

In September, when I resigned my commitment form, it still seemed like something I was gonna do--in the future--someday--one day--yeah.

Even a few days ago, I was still thinking of it like aging: One day my hair will turn gray, and my face will shrivel, and probably, my boobs will sag (oh, I hope not), and oh yeah, I'll run a marathon. You know? ONE DAY! Not in a WEEK!

Then I left the pre race party for the first bar I could find and drank really pricey wine, and as I stared into the ruby elixir, I realized that I don't actually want to run the marathon. I just want to train for the marathon half assed, eat my carbs, and talk about one day running one. OMG.

Oh crap!

Kimday Season is here

Yes, 1 month until Kimday. It's like when you go to the store in October, and they have all the Christmas decorations up already. You get that little giddy sensation inside and suddenly want to eat gingerbread men and dance under the mistletoe. That's sort of how I feel about the fact that Kimday Season has begun.

Sadly, not enough people put up decorations for Kimday, and in fact, I'm not sure what those decorations would even be. I need a brand--some sort of logo or image associated with this great holiday. I'm not sure what that would be. Perhaps a giant llama drinking a bottle of Don Eduardo tequila. Maybe a duck in comfy pjs eating cotton candy. Maybe the giant Zardoz head floating through the sky with an I love Kimday button between his brows.

Something to think about.

ok sorry for the 4th post but

I seriously need to get this site: http://www.kimday.org/

BBM!

I loved this show as a kid! They had this great episode called Witch's Sister. I named my first doll, Lynn, after the main character. Book was great, too.

That reminds me of Vegetable Soup. Awesome theme song. They also had this great segment about Nigel the snake, but there were some creepy puppets on that show, too. Ugh. Outerscope 1. Really creepy.

Ok really I didn't mean to get back to puppets, but they are just out there. Back to my happy place. "The earth's a big blue marble..."

my favorite pasttime

Ok seriously, it cracks me up how I can continually type in creepy christian puppets and come up with new things like this or this

Of course, the two above are produced by comedians (I hope), but there are the whacko real christian puppets. You remember this one and then this one and then the strange shows like Joy Junction and Circle Square--shows that my mom wanted me to watch until I made her sit down and actually watch them with me. Then she let me return to Superfriends.

Creepy. This is why I booted all of the puppets out of my workplace. No puppets. Mind you, nonChristian puppets are also creepy. Peppermint Park is an example. Puppets are just creepy.

mmm like catbirds but not

Yeah, ok, I've hit some sort of time warp.

Previously, in the life of Cranky, I was as frugal as they come. No, I take that back. My dad is more frugal. He would make tomato soup out of hot water and ketchup, but anyway, I was frugal jr. In college, I knew all the happy hours in town with buffets. And back then, I never had to pay for a drink, so it was free food and drink for me. I'd "borrow" tp from dorms for my apt and would sell back my books the 2nd day for beer money (well some of them like physics and nutrition). I taught my roommate the art of thrift store shopping and came from a family who never bought anything if it wasn't on sale. I once found an awesome sale at walgreens for tomato soup and bought a bunch for 30 cents apiece. I ate tomato soup for like a year, splitting them between two meals until the next happy hour buffet. Ah, those were the days.

So then post college I got all philanthropic once i started making money (as much as you can make working non profit) and started helping out friends (letting them mooch off me for free), and lately, with an 11 year old car and unbelievable rent and gas prices, I've suddenly flipped back into frugality. Maybe it was the trip into the suburbs that did it (no more great restaurants and cafes). Maybe it's the fact that I've got to buy a new car soon. Maybe it's the pending 33 hanging over my head. Maybe it's some dysthymic phase, the post marathon training blues. Sigh. I don't know.

So today, I decided to forgo the chicken soup and went to Bizarro Catbirds for a drink solely because I knew they had a free happy hour buffet. I had a dollar well drink and potato chips with beans, salsa, guacamole, and some other ingredient that escapes me now. [shudder]. But it was free. And, ladies and gentlemen, I drank the next two drinks for free. Still got it!

The highlights? Well, I spoke Italian for the majority of the night to some man from Torino. Then I spoke a little Chinese and German. And then I talked to a triathlete and his brother, the orthopedic surgeon who moonlights as a gyno (wtf?). He seems to think my orthoped is a quack. I think so, too, and so whatever he tells me tomorrow, I'm running. My foot doesn't even hurt anymore. I haven't run, but if it hurts running I will walk. I am soooo doing this marathon.

Hopefully, getting back into the marathon groove will bring me back to normal Cranky. Seriously, I don't even like happy hour food (unless I am watching the Cubs, and the bar tonight was not playing Ch 9. Sigh).

I'm in a funk.

Bizarro Catbirds

I was supposed to run in the pool tonight, but I'm getting a little tired of that. Seriously, this injury (if that's what it is) is the worst thing that could happen to my training. I wasn't all that motivated to run once I got past the 18 mile mark. In fact, as soon as I did my first 18 mile training run, I slacked off for about a week. Then i started up again until my next 18 miler, and that was it.

So now that i actually have a reason (other than beer and oreos) to sit on my ass, I am really not so motivated for this thing. It is boring, not to mention embarrassing, to run in place in the pool, and all I keep thinking is that there is no way I will ever finish 26 miles, since the 26 miles I will be running will be on pavement and not in the water. I had better get good news on Friday, or I will kick some ass, hurt foot or not. I have to start real training again.

That said, I went to the suburban bar tonight with 2shirts, ate chex mix for dinner, and drank Chimay and some other yeasty beverages. I was talking to 2shirts about an article that I read in the foot doc's office. You know, it's like the anus was once the last hold out--the only place left that we weren't forced to pluck, scrutinize, and compare to others. Seriously, not to echo the comment on the website, but is there any place left on our bodies that is just ours? I digress.

Point being, I was telling this to 2shirts, who had already heard about the process and who claims that it is because as we age, our asshole turns from a zesty pink to a haggard brown (how do people know this crap [no pun intended]?). Right in the middle of the story, I look at the direction that 2shirts is motioning and see an eavesdropping bartender who then pretends to pick staples out of the wall instead of admitting his desire for anal bleaching.

Then I meet up with 4 construction people who pat me on the back for being able to "dish it out" as well as they. Somehow, anal bleaching comes up again (2shirts), and we discuss it some more. Unbelievable.

Then out of nowhere, I suddenly become a freakin' psychic. Seriously, I guessed every one of their ages spot on. I missed one guy's by 5 days (his birthday is on the 7th). Otherwise, dead on. They even all checked their wallets. I guessed the sports they played in college, too, but that wasn't so hard. The golf guy was a little taken aback, but I can always spot a golfer. They have a particular neck. Don't ask me what it is about the neck. They just have it. very weird. then we watched The Contender, and I went home.

So that's it. Suburban nightlife includes talk of anal bleaching and psychic sideshows. I came home and ate spaghetti o's and watched Laverne and Shirley clips on you tube, thanks to a blog I read.

God I miss the city. I have become so lame!

Kimday 2007

Folks are scattered all over the US, so I decided to fly out somewhere this year. The festivities start on November 3 as I board a plane for Orange County. Padawan is celebrating again in my absence at the Volcano, so feel free to stop by her party and drink one for me. ;-) Otherwise, if you are anywhere near LA, give me a call.

So Nov 3-6 will be spent in LA and San Diego with a few layovers in Las Vegas and Phoenix. I'll be spending Actual Kimday on the plane trip back. Yippee.

Of course, it's still Kim Month until the 30th, so if you're around the Houston area, I will be happy to be taken out. Just send me an email.

Oh and why the OC? I got an awesome Ding fare.