Keeping it Real

A friend posted this on Facebook yesterday.

For Reals, people, For Reals!

Pink Day

About a month ago, my SIL called me to ask if I wanted to do the Race for the Cure with her. Without any hesitation I said yes. I've had a 10k on the brain for about a year. On the brain and on the feet are two different things. But this, I thought, would actually push me to do something. And half of a 10k is way more than I'd run in a long time.

I had done this event once many years ago when I lived in Sacramento. It was a fluke thing where I had planned to walk but ended up running the whole way thanks to my buddy who pushed me and cheered me along. That was the first time in my life I had run three miles straight. We didn't even check to see what our time was.

I've run that distance a few times since and hated every single second of it. 

I started out slow. About a 12-minute mile on the treadmill. Then PK suggested I make an 11-minute mile my goal. I ran at that pace shortly thereafter. It was hard work. Once I could run the 5k consistently; albeit slow, I tried mixing things up: four miles at a 12 pace; two miles at a 10 pace. I had no idea if what I was doing was effective in any way, and I didn't have the luxury of time on my side to worry about it.

The day was fast approaching. There was no fighting it. I would do this thing and acknowledge the ladies that did fight and who continue to fight a bigger battle than I can ever imagine.

D went out a couple of days before and bought me a new pair of shoes. His gesture was so touching to me. They were pretty and they were pink.

Unfortunately, the shoes never hit the pavement on race day. I found them on the living room floor when I came home a few hours after the run was over. Lucky for me KK came through and let me borrow hers. 

The weather was perfect and the atmosphere was rockin'.

Running outside proved to be as grueling as I expected. It was for that reason that I didn't set a time goal for myself . Running in the comfort of a climate-controlled environment, on a flat and padded surface is easier than pounding the concrete and taking in the elements. I knew what I was getting myself into, and as long as I ran the whole way at no more than a 12mpm pace, I'd be good.

My SIL, on the other hand, kicked butt. She hates to run and probably hadn't even run around the block in years :), but she trained hard, set a time goal for herself, and met it. In a very short time and with an aching knee. A weaker woman would have used that as an excuse to stop, but not her. Her mom is a breast cancer survivor and her inspiration for the run. She comes from a family of women warriors! I am so proud of her. And I'm sure her mom is too.

Way to go, KK!

I met some figurative bumps along the way as well, the details of which I won't get into here. I didn't push through them like KK did, but up until I stopped at about the 2.87 mile mark I was okay with it. Soon after starting again I saw D and the kids at what I thought was the finish line and I lost it. I don't know who I think I let down, but I was overcome with emotion.

Finally, after what seemed like forevah, I crossed the finish line. At first glance, when I looked at my time, 36.9, my tantrum from a few minutes before was all but forgotten. Today, when I looked at the official results, I felt some disappointment. If the timing chip is to be believed and I came in at  36.3, then the answer to the question of whom I let down, would be nobody. I left the Seattle Center knowing I could have done better, but it would be easier to take if I hadn't come in under my time "goal," if that's what we're calling it. It's like watching your team get beat by one point....you'd rather they just got their butt kicked.

I'll get over it. Or maybe not. But that will be my motivation for next time.

Thanks, KK, for a great day ♥♥

Griswold Out.

(To my kids: I want you to know that I wasn't completely honest  when I told you that I cried because I was tired and just so happy to see you. I was somewhat tired and I was happy to see you, but I was also really mad and threw a tantrum because things didn't go my way ~ yes, the same thing I tell you not to do. A perfect example of do as I say, not as I do. You should also know that when I say  I stopped, I did just that.....I stopped, regrouped, and after about 30 seconds continued on. I never walked :)

Unexpected Guest

As I stated in my previous post, M received a Garden of Manners award at school yesterday. We normally don't watch movies during the day; it's a treat reserved for weekends, but I wanted to reward her in some way (and I had to clean house) so I suggested we go to Blockbuster.

 She chose Tinkerbell.

When all was said and done, she came prancing downstairs and told me that watching the movie made her feel like a real fairy.

She must have wished upon a star because the next thing I knew, there she was ~ The Keeper of the Pixie Dust Herself.

There isn't much more to say;
that smile says it all.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Today when I arrived to pickup M at preschool, her teacher told me, for the second time this week, that she had received a "Garden of Manners" award.

It started out as a little bit of "grass" taped to the board, but each time one of the kids displays their manners, they receive a flower or a bird to add to the garden.

I am so proud of her.

(Watching her Flowers Grow)

And, in other garden news, we decided to plant one this year.

There's a potting soil commercial running right now where the lady says,

"This is where plants come to die."

She took the words right out of my mouth.

This is what we have so far....the tomato plant we bought that size. In the soil is lettuce, zucchini, and cucumbers; we're planning on adding strawberries, spinach, and chili peppers.

I love our planter box. Let's hope it doesn't turn out to be a grave for our veggies.

Oh, The Pressure

As a direct result of the geographical location of my home, I have a love/hate relationship with the sun.

In California, it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Phoenix had two seasons: "hot" October through April and "hot as hell" May through September. Maryland was picture perfect, as in the calendar and Mother Nature were always in agreement with what the weather outside should be.

But in the Great Northwest where the sun is a rare commodity, that's where the problem lies. The usual free-spirit, make-love-not-war aura of these parts is quickly forgotten when the sun comes out. He's a dictator of sorts and we are the products of his communist ways. Nobody tells you this when you move here,you go into it blindly, but it's inevitable, live here long enough, and its iron grip will grab a hold of you too.

We will literally stop in our muddy tracks and scramble around in search of something to do ~ something that doesn't involve getting drenched the second we walk outside our front doors. Ironically, though, we can't wait to get drenched, and just like that, our arsenal of water toys are pulled out and dusted off:  Balloons, guns, Slip and Slides.

Oh, the pressure! You feel inadequate, guilty, like a bad parent, if you don't maximize your time in the sun. Not to mention that you're depriving yourself and your kids that much-needed dose of Vitamin D.

So, while I admit that I am now one of them ~ the ones that get giddy over a ray of sun ~ there's also a part of me that feels some bitterness at the fact that I've succumbed to it yet again.

And while we're on the subject of bitter....a lot of folks around here have what they call "'Seasonal Depression." Not me. I have what I call "Seasonal Pissed Off."

It's a condition that occurs every year around February when there hasn't been a sighting of the sun in about five months and the drizzle has been constant for just as long, which, as a direct result, causes one to feel, well, PISSED!

So I wait, and wait, and wait. And then one day, there really is light, sunlight, and I remember just how much I love the sun.

This came totally unexpected! With a cheesy grin on my face I walk over to my closet and open the door to a plethora of leggings, jeans, and sweatshirts. Anything that resembles summer is packed in boxes under the bed; as I reach down to find them, I notice that my toenails haven't been touched in a long time and are in no way sandal-worthy; next, I catch a glimpse of my white and ashy legs ~ a mere second before I realize that any plans we had for the day have to be changed in the next two minutes and the "You-just-never-know-when-we'll-see-the-sun-again.....gotta-maximize-our-time," chants begin.

Did I mention my love/hate dilemma?