what lies beneath – part two.

Before I finish this horror story, I should probably give you a quick run update. I’m starting to feel like those of you that are reading along for the running portion of my blog might be starting to think I’m full of hot air.

Actually, I can’t confirm or deny that last part, but I did run 10 miles this weekend. In a row. You know, no big deal.*

*Disclaimer: that was sarcasm. It was a big deal, to me.

I averaged a 12-minute mile, which isn’t quite fast enough to be Katie’s running partner any time soon, but it was plenty fast for me, given how hot and muggy it was.

I did an out-and-back course. Out-and-backs are my favorite because, unless you’re a fan of hitchhiking (which I’m not, though we all know I have the thumbs for it), once you get OUT you have to get BACK. It’s one of the many psychological games I play with myself to get through my runs.

Alright, now where was I on this story? Oh, right. This was happening: 

After that crunchy little bugger had darted back down behind the bed for the second and pray-to-God the last time, I was a complete wreck. John tried to reassure me that these things happen, we were in the tropics after all, but that did nothing to calm my nerves.

I left the light on and laid down in bed, but there was no freaking way I was going to sleep that night.

It was about 11pm and I laid there. Eyes. Wide. Open. Until 6am.

And then I got up and did what any reasonable person would do. I snuck into the bathroom to make a wake-up call to the property manager.

I had decided that I didn’t want to tell anyone else in the house and suffer in silence for the rest of the trip. I wasn’t trying to be a martyr, I just didn’t think it was necessary to traumatize everyone else and make them wonder every night if they were going to get a little visitor dropping by.

I told the property manager what had happened.

She was plenty sympathetic and assured me that the house and its perimeter had been sprayed just days before. It couldn’t be sprayed again this soon, though, especially with young children around, but she said that she’d send the exterminator to set traps all around the house (inside and out).

After the traps were set, I secretly monitored them all day, every day. I couldn’t decide if I WANTED to see a roach trapped in these little cardboard Hotel California’s or if it would be better to NOT see one.

As it turned out, I never did see one. In the traps, in my hair, or in my bed.

But, the damage had already been done.

I spent the entire week in a sleep-deprived daze. I left the light on every night (sorry, love) and hoped that Ambien would help (it didn’t).

The moral of the story? Avoid ground-floor accommodations when on vacation.

Have you ever had something like this happen? I’d love to hear from you!

taking a run down marathon lane – #7

If you’re new here and want to read about my crazy awesome goal, here you go.

If you’d like to read about my previous marathon shenanigans, here is 12345 and 6.

I would really love to make the story of Lucky #7 be worthy of following an entire post dedicated to my boobs, but sadly, I cannot.

Because when I say “Lucky” I actually mean the worst possible way that I can think of besides water torture in the eyeballs to spend over 5 hours of your day. I am usually much more glass-half-full and all that business, but there just is no way to sugar-coat this one.

It sucked.

Oh, and speaking of water torture, did I mention it was raining? I actually LIKE running in the rain. Usually. In fact, it’s my weather condition of preference when I’m out on a run.*

*BIG HUGE FAT DISCLAIMER: As long as my shoes – and feet! – do not get wet.

I bet you can guess where this is going. Yes indeedy, my shoes and feet were SOAKED THROUGH within 30 minutes of starting the race. Why? I’ll tell you why.

Because it POURED before the race started.

It POURED while the runners waited patiently in their time corrals to get going.

It POURED during hour one. two. three. four. five. and then it POURED some more.

Not to worry, though. It totally stopped raining the second I crossed the finish line.

Here is my very sad, sad time:

Let’s just turn this frown upside down and enjoy the experience by way of some fun pictures, shall we?

Here I am, all dry feet and happy!

My super wet and super supportive crew:

The best race bibs IN THE HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE:

I ran this race in honor of my dear friend Fatima who was in the middle of breast cancer treatment. Forget everything I said above about having wet feet and being miserable.

There I am! About to finish, and still standing! Yay!

Here they are again. I love these wet people:

How can one possibly wear a frown when they have a mug like this to kiss?

Here’s the deal: I finished.

I pushed on, even though I was miserable and calling my husband on my cell phone every few miles crying hysterically. I’ve said it before and I’ll just go ahead and say it again:

I don’t do marathons – EVER – for a time goal. What is “slow” to me might be fast for you, and vice versa.

That’s not what it’s about (for me). The reason I find my time for this race so very sad, sad is that I know what I was FEELING for those 5:25 hours. And it was. not. pretty.

But those 5:25 hours are behind me now, so let’s move on!

On today’s to-do list? In keeping with the theme of “5” I’ve got a 5-miler scheduled. If it takes me 5:25 hours, please send help.

How do you feel about the rain? I’d love to hear from you!

oh, so THAT’S what nike was trying to say.

NOW I get it. As a closet procrastinator, those three little words have always eluded me.

JUST. DO. IT.

Personally, I think it would speak to me better if they added a tagline like “Sometime in the near future, when the mood strikes”. 

But if I’m going to call myself a “recovering” procrastinator, I’d better put my money where my mouth is.

So, I DID IT.

I have been putting off a 9-mile run since the weekend. I haven’t ran that many miles in a row in almost two years and I was feeling, well, really intimidated. So much self-doubt and fear. Am I fit enough to do this? Will I bonk half-way through? What if I have to pee? What if this is just too hard? What if I’m too old?

I was all set to just.do.it. on Sunday right after church. I gave myself a pep talk and some mental high-fives. But then I fell asleep 5 minutes after the sermon started and was still tired when we got home. I needed a nap to recover from my 30 minute snooze in church.*

*Pastor Dee, if you’re reading this. It’s not you, it’s me. I won’t let it happen again, I promise. 

So I got my White-Out and moved my long run on the calendar from Sunday to Monday. I blocked out my lunch break on my Outlook calendar. I was going to just.do.it.

I always like to stay hydrated on runs longer than five miles (it’s probably more of a mental need than a physiological one, but it makes me feel better. Alright, I’ll admit it: I like to pretend that my watered-down Gatorade is “magic fuel” that will take me the distance. Why does this blog give me verbal vomit? It remains a mystery).

Anyway, I am experimenting with different hydration packs because I’m not 100% satisfied with the belt system I’ve been using. For this fateful run, I decided to revert back to a trusty old standby: the Camelbak. I’ve loved this system for years for hiking and biking, so I figured it’d be great for long runs, too.

I was completely done for after just one mile of listening to the loud sloshing of liquid and the painful rubbing of the straps on my exposed skin (I run in tanktops year-round because I run “hot”.)*

*Disclaimer: not to be confused with LOOKING hot. That is an entirely different camp in which I do not fall.

This was just not working for me. I knew that if I kept this up for the full nine miles, my skin would be a sorely chaffed mess. I made the tough decision – I’ve very rarely ever stopped a run – to turn around and go home. It wasn’t easy to do, but my mom asked me from day one of this journey to please listen to my body. And I always listen to my mom.*

*Almost always.

It’s hard to tell from this self-portrait, but here I am with the CamelBak that was out to get me and foil my best laid plans.

And so, we come to Tuesday. The very last possible day I could do this run before it would start to interfere with my NEXT scheduled long run. I really needed to just.do.it.

I planned it for first thing in the morning. But then I started working on a deadline, and found a reason not to go.

Lunchtime! That is when I would do this run. But then I started working on something else, and found a reason not to go.

After work! Yes! This was going to be the best time to do this. Then monsoon rains started coming and I really started to regret not going first thing in the morning.

But, guess what? I still DID IT. The events leading up to me finally getting my rear in gear may not have been my shiniest moments, but I am still proud of myself for facing my fears head-on and coming out the other end victorious.

Sometimes it’s the little things that are the biggest things.

Ahhhhh, ice, ice, baby.

On my to-do list for today? Give myself AND our nation a big high-five! Happy 4th of July, everyone!

What have you got planned? I’d love to hear from you!

 

caution: insects in mouth are grosser than they appear.

Alright, I promised you a run update, but I’m not sure this is what you had in mind. Here’s a snapshot of my training schedule for the last few days:

Saturday: 3 miles (loop)
Sunday: REST or Cross-Train (and by “Cross-Train” I mean nap)
Monday: 9 miles (out-and-back)
Tuesday: See Sunday

My mom was visiting on Saturday, so I wanted to get out and do my run early so it would be done and over with and we could get on to more important things like our mani/pedi appointments and ice cream. Priorities, people.

The run was going great: I was feeling strong and fast(er than a turtle). All was right in the world. Until mile two.

When my mouth met the business end of this*:

 *Disclaimer: yes, I realize this is a cute little cartoon bug and not a real bug. I am doing what is necessary to work past this traumatic experience, including denial and distortion of reality. Don’t burst my bubble, guys. 

Let’s be honest, if you spend a lot of time running, you’re going to spend a lot of time with bugs in your mouth. It’s just a fact of life. I would love to be one of those runners who can go along cheerily with their heads high and their mouths closed. But alas – I am not.

I am the runner gasping for breath, mouth open for maximum oxygen intake, and tongue lolling out. Because the mouth hanging open isn’t quite classy enough by itself.

So what was different this time, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you what was different:

That cute little cartoon bug flew in and perched himself directly onto my GAG REFLEX. He wouldn’t go down. And he wouldn’t come out. He was like an unwanted house guest that has drank all of your beer, used all the hot water, and refuses to leave.

Lucky for me, the Garmin watch has a pause button because dry heaving on the side of the road really has a way of killing your pace.

Ah, the life of a runner. So glamourous. So full of excitement.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post where I update you on the mulligan I had to call on that
9 mile run I mentioned above. Hint: I blame a most unfortunate wardrobe malfunction.

In summary, I have “9 mile run do-over” on today’s To-Do list. Right next to “Nap at lunchtime”.

Have you ever swallowed a bug? I’d love to hear from you!

taking a run down marathon lane – #6: THE PR EDITION!!!

I should clarify that by “PR” I mean Personal Record, not Press Release, although I was sort of tempted to submit my race results to a local newspaper. Maybe one that’s main readership is turtles*. And my mom.

You know, the two groups that would be most impressed by my running skills.

*Disclaimer: Yes, I know that turtles don’t read. It’s called a “metaphor,” people.

Anyway, I digress. If you’re new to all my running nonsense, you can find out more about my goal here.

If you’d like to get caught up, here are the recaps for marathons 1234 and 5.

Take your time, we’ll wait. No rush.

Ready? OK, here’s my 6th marathon report:

February 19, 2006
Austin Marathon
Austin, Texas

This was a significant race for me for several reasons.

For one thing, it was the month before we decided to start trying for a baby and I knew it would be my last marathon for quite awhile. I realize there are many hardcore women who run up to the day they give birth and finish marathons the day after.

I am not one of them.

It was also significant because (caution: this might not be the last time I mention this) I PR’ed, BABY!! What a fun feeling, even if you aren’t out to set any records. (um, hello, major understatement). I run to FINISH, not for a time goal. EVER. But still, it’s motivating to see yourself improve and get stronger.

Lucky for all of you folks, it was also significant because I actually HAVE A COUPLE OF RACE DAY PICTURES! They are a rare find. I’m not very photogenic on most days, and even less so after running for over four hours. Trust me, it’s not cute.

I’ll share the few gems I have with you later, but let me just tell you now that one of the MOST significant things about this race was the CRAZY WEATHER.

What? That sounds lame, you say? Trust me, it played a leading role in the day.

I took the liberty of searching the interweb to find a visual on just what we were facing in the weather department that day:

Oh, Mother Nature! You and your HILARIOUS sense of humor! She’s a barrel of laughs, isn’t she? Look at how she decided to dole out almost the coldest day in AUSTIN’S ENTIRE HISTORY right smack on race day. It was such a riot!*

*Disclaimer: this is called “sarcasm.” It was brutally cold and not funny one. single. bit.

BUT, the good news is that it was nothing if not motivating. I felt like I was constantly trying to stay one step ahead of frostbite and/or losing a toe or 10 from the frigid conditions, so I think it made me a faster runner. It’s my theory and I’m sticking to it. Don’t burst my bubble, people.

Here are those pictures I promised. You’ve been warned:

Here I am waiting to start. I like to pretend I am catching snowflakes on my tongue, instead of screaming from the cold.

Now, you should know that my awesome husband is always a huge supporter of my races (even going so far as to sign up to be my co-crazy in this little goal I’ve come up with) but on the day of my Austin marathon? He raised his support to new heights.

In addition to wearing my own running clothes (which were not nearly enough) I also wore every layer of running gear that John brought for himself as well. Including his gloves, which turned out to be a lifesaver. Thanks, love.

And here’s the other photo from the day that I have:

I don’t think I’m actually in this picture anywhere, but it gives you a good overview of how freakin’ cold it was.

Weather aside, it was a really great event. (Did I mention I PR’ed? Yes? A few times already? By the way, I PR’ed).

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post where I answer your burning question, “Has Melisa been running AT ALL this week?”

In summary, the main item on my To-Do list for today is something that starts with R, ends with N and rhymes with “fun” but I’m not going to tell you what it is because I don’t want to break the suspense.

What’d you get up to this weekend? I’d love to hear from you!

taking a run down marathon lane – #5

If you’re new here, you can find out more about my goal here.

If you thought you were stopping by to get an update on the chickens and have frankly had enough of my running shenanigans, no hard feelings. We can still be friends.

To get us all caught up, here are the recaps for marathons 123 and 4.

As far as #5 goes, apparently I ran this one just 22 short days after #4 although I have no recollection of doing these two so close together.

I’d love to say that this is selective memory loss, reserved only for the subject of running, but the truth is? I have the worst memory on the planet.

One time, I was co-chairing an auction for my daughter’s preschool. We met the auctioneer over breakfast one day. Just one short month later, we met him for lunch. I
re-introduced myself as if I had never met him in my life and when everyone looked at me like I was certifiably cray-cray, I started arguing the case that I had NEVER met him before. In my life.

I am getting way off track, and I probably shouldn’t have admitted any of that in public, but just like my memory, I’m also a bit of a train wreck when it comes to starting a story and not stopping even though I know that all warning signs point to TURN BACK, TURN BACK and I just keep barreling down the cliff with a faulty brake system.

But I digress. Here’s my 5th marathon report:

Oct 23, 2005 (I guess, although this is still in question and I will get to the bottom of this)
Nike Women’s Marathon
San Francisco, CA

If I had to take my bet to Vegas, I’d say that I chose to do another race so soon because those clever folks at Nike entice women with Tiffany necklaces at the end of the race. No joke. Instead of bulky medals that get tucked in a drawer never to be seen again, you get A REAL TIFFANY NECKLACE IN THE LITTLE BLUE BOX.

Here’s what the necklace looked like the year I ran:

That was one sparkly carrot I was willing to chase down.

The icing on the cake is that these little post-race prizes are handed out on silver trays being held by firemen dressed in white gloves and tuxedos.

I guess they think this will appeal to women, too, but I found it more embarrassing than rewarding. What lady in her right mind wants to receive a gift from a handsome man dressed to impress when she is dripping with sweat and has a face like a bloated turnip?

No thanks, Nike. A for effort, though. 

Other than this little error in judgment, those folks with the swoosh sure know how to do it right. From the race expo, to the inspiring signs at each mile, to the great race support, it was a really well-done event.

My mom went with me to add to the “Girl Power” of the weekend and was a great supporter. Somehow, I am once again suspiciously without my own race day photos to share with you, but you are just going to have to take my word for it.

And if you don’t believe me, just reference the lightning-fast race time above. I think I set some new records with this one.

Alright, fine. Here’s a photo I just took of my race shirt. I put my pink polka dot pants in the picture for authentication. NOW do you believe me?

Good times, good times.

Speaking of good times (ba da bum!) check this out: I had a 3-mile run yesterday and was almost 4.5 minutes faster than when I ran this same course last week!

Like I’ve said before, I’m slow, and I don’t care. Not one single bit. I’m getting faster (relatively speaking) because I’m getting STRONGER. And that is a pretty cool feeling.

What’ve you got going on today? I’d love to hear from you!

islandwood if I could.

When you live on a small island, you’re bound to find a myriad of quirky little wonders, and our island of Bainbridge is no exception.

I’ve heard about this place. I’ve read about it. I’ve seen pictures. But until today it remained to me like the rarely-seen Snuffleupagus.

A true mystery.

They call themselves “A School in The Woods.” In addition to all kinds of environmental education classes, seminars, and events, they also offer half-day Summer Camps for kids.

I’ll be honest. Coordinating camps like this into the summer schedule of a kid with two working parents is a tad daunting. It would be much more convenient to sign her up for something that runs 9 – 5, M – F and call it a day (literally, a day).

Instead, we decided that the benefits outweighed the hassle (we schlep her across the island to their camp, work until lunchtime, pick her back up, and take her to her little Montessori school camp, and pick her back up again at 5:00) and signed her up for a few of these this summer.

Here she is at drop-off, her first-day nerves showing through the smile she is certain she’s giving me. The camp let each child pick a stuffed “friend” out of a big bucket to be with them for the week.

This part was totally no big deal for two germaphobe parents. Nope. Not one bit. We were cool as cucumbers.

Here she is when we picked her up.

Poor thing, doesn’t she look miserable? I sure wish she had more fun. Total bust.

Oh, and you know that show “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader”? Yeah, we have a version of that around here, too. Just replace “5th Grader” with “5-Year-Old”.

I guessed “rhino”. The 5-year-old guessed “deer.” I’ll leave it for you to decide who’s smarter. (Hint: it isn’t me.)

One of the many reasons we moved to this small community is that they have just that – A COMMUNITY. It’s filled with people who take pride in where they live, and look out for their environment – and each other.

Alright, I’ll admit there’s a downside: when you try to make a quick dash to the grocery store in your pink polka-dot pajamas, there’s a good chance you’ll run into someone you know and will be forced to divert your eyes and feign a hearing loss, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

I love that Olivia has the chance to have experiences like this and we’re hopeful that when’s she’s grown, she will take pride in her community, too – wherever she may roam – and be an ambassador for this one precious planet we all get to share.*

*This concludes the public service announcement and crazy-run-on-sentence portion of this post.

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Speaking of getting outdoors, I had a 3-mile run on the books, and my supportive (albeit speedy) hub agreed to join me. I don’t know if I was just “on my game” or trying to be a big show-off in front of this cute guy I know, but I was lightning fast (relatively speaking, you know, when compared to a turtle):

Alright, fine. It was a really flat course, too. Don’t burst my bubble. I haven’t seen the south side of 30 minutes for a 3-mile run since I don’t know when.

OK, OK, so I scared all the ducks away with my heaving breathing, and I was constantly on the look out for a place to throw up or pass out, or both, but still.

I’d say I brought my A-game.

We ran at the aptly-named “Battle Point Park”. Yeah, there were Battles alright. At more than one Point. (Someone stop me! I’m on fire!)

Which Muppet character is your favorite? I’d love to hear from you!

a “type A” personality’s guide to letting go.

The dictionary defines a “Type A personality” as having “a temperament marked by excessive competitiveness and ambition, an obsession with accomplishing tasks quickly, little time for self-reflection, and a strong need to control situations.” (source: Google, natch)

I’m not particularly competitive, at least when it comes to sports and Monopoly, but I MAY have dipped my toe in the control freak pond a time or two when it comes to other areas of my life.

Let’s just say I most definitely have room for improvement. So, I came up with this handy little self-help guide:

Step 1:
Find a paint-your-own pottery studio and a 5-year-old. The second part of this step is crucial.

Step 2:
Come up with the brilliant idea for said 5-year-old to paint something for her dad for Father’s Day.

Step 3:
Wait until the very last minute to put Steps 1 and 2 into play.

Step 4:
Wear your open mind and your least favorite clothes.

Step 5:
Take a deep breath. Repeat as necessary.

Step 6:
Let your 5-year-old pick whichever item he or she chooses. DO NOT try to steer him or her away from the tea cups to the coffee mugs, even if you’ve never seen the recipient drink a cup of tea. Ever.

Step 7:
Position yourself close enough to your 5-year-old to watch the work, but not close enough to touch the work.

Step 8:
Repeat step 7 as necessary. Stop scooting your chair closer, she can see you.

Step 9:
Take a few pictures to distract yourself from your burning desire to control the situation. Gain perspective.

Step 10:
Take a deep breath. Repeat as necessary.

Step 11:
Take a deep breath. Repeat as necessary. Remember, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Step 12:
Pretend you want to go look at the pottery samples on the wall. Repeat steps 10 and 11.

Step 13:
Give consistent and regular encouragement. This part is the most important, regardless of your neuroses. They are your issues, not hers.

Hey, sometimes self-help is also tough-love, people.

Step 14:
Repeat step 9.

Step 15:
DO NOT ask your 5-year-old if she’s SURE she’s done one, two or ten times. The piece is done when she feels it’s done. It does not need “just a little something else right here.”

Step 16:
High-five your little artist for her great work.

Step 17:
Wait patiently for a week while the pottery is fired in the oven. Apologize to husband for his Father’s Day present being “a little late.”

Step 18:
Admire the final product. Don’t forget to stop and enjoy the moment of pure pride in your child’s face.

Step 19:
Realize that while no one is perfect, this coffee mug is.*

Step 20:
*Don’t beat yourself up too hard at your inability to complete step 6.

In unrelated news, I had a 5-mile run scheduled yesterday. It was great! I was slow but I felt strong. That’s all I can really ask for. Well, that and always finishing my run at a perfectly clean and orderly .00 distance, but that’s another guide for another day.

Coffee or tea? I’d love to hear from you!

taking a run down marathon lane – #4

If you’ve stopped by before, first of all – thank you! You’ve probably already heard me go on a time or twenty about the crazy great idea I have of running 50 marathons by age 50.

If you’re new here, you can find out more about my goal here.

If you stopped by thinking this is a food blog, or a photography blog, or a professional running blog, my condolences for the little time-waster there. No hard feelings if you quietly move along.

To get us all caught up, here are the recaps for marathons 1, 2 and 3.

Poor #4 has to follow the Ironman re-cap, so he’s feeling a little nervous. Let’s make him feel welcome, shall we?*

*Disclaimer: why am I referring to my marathons as “he”? I have no idea.

My 4th marathon was my very first trail race. It was a 50K which is TECHNICALLY just over 31 miles – not 26.2 – but no need to brag, so let’s just call it a “marathon.”

October 1, 2005
Baker Lake 50K Trail Run
Concrete, WA

After finishing the Ironman, I really wasn’t sure what I wanted to do for races. It was like a big high followed by a “what should I do now?” blah feeling. I sort of compare it to having a baby, except the blisters and chaffing aren’t nearly as rewarding as a precious little bundle of joy.

But that part about needing a bit of time to pass before ever considering doing this crazy thing again? Yeah, that part is similar.

I knew I was done with Ironmans. One and done, please and thank you. But I started to get the running itch again, so I decided to sign up for a 50K, what the heck.

Once again, I am totally lacking in the photo department to prove to you that I did this thing. You’ll just have to take my word for it and trust that just because I COULD do a botched Photoshop job and fake the stats above, I didn’t.

Besides, if I was going to fake some stats, I’d make myself much faster.

Here’s what some of the course looked like, though, to help put you into a “being there” frame of mind:

It was a fun – and challenging – race. It felt great to be “back in the saddle” (does anyone say that anymore? Am I in a Western movie?) and it was exciting to do something so different, but I think I’ll leave the trail running to people with much better coordination and ankle strength than me.

If you’ve never been trail running before, trust me when I tell you that if you are as clumsy as moi, you could find yourself twisting and turning your ankles more than Gumby in the hands of a 2-year-old.

In other news, I paid more attention to my food and water yesterday and guess what? It totally paid off. Looks like all that business about “proper fuel for your body” isn’t a bunch of hocus pocus after all. Huh.

I had a 3-mile run scheduled and I did the same route as I did a few days ago. And lucky day, I shaved over 1.5 minutes off my time! Not too shabby for dodging mud puddles in the pouring rain, eh?

Here I am right after my run. Normally I’d have to admit that it’s sweat I’m covered in, but nope. That is 100% pure Pacific Northwest rain, folks. I actually really enjoy running (and singing) in the rain, to be honest.

Well, except for that fateful time I ran the Portland Marathon, but that’s another story for another day, my friends.

And the very best part of all is that I am slow, and I don’t care. Not one single bit.

It’s exciting for me to see myself getting faster, but only because that means I’m getting STRONGER.

I will never – ever – set a time goal for my races because if I finish just ONE MINUTE after a time that I set, will that mean that I’ve “failed”? Hello! No thanks! I just want to finish and be able to give myself a pat on the back for not giving up.

Slow and steady will always win the race.*

*Disclaimer: well, it will always win MY race. This girl is nothing if not slow and steady. This girl? Well, she’s another story entirely, but this isn’t her blog. It’s my blog.

Slow And Steady Girl.

Alright, fine. I’m not always that steady. But slow? I’ve got that down, and I am
OWNING. IT.

In summary, I’ve got “Enjoy a Fun Weekend” and “Ignore The Rain” as the top two things on my to-do list.

What’ve you got going on? I’d love to hear from you!

refrigerator friends

You know that old children’s song about making new friends, but keeping the old? One is silver and the other is gold?

After a quick Google search, I found that there’s actually a second line to this little jingle:

A circle is round,
it has no end.
That’s how long,
I will be your friend.

Who knew?

This is totally how I feel about these two fabulous ladies that I get together with once a month for dinner.

Sometimes we pretend that we are Charlie’s Angels, but don’t tell anyone.

We’ve known each other for almost 30 years. Long before any of us discovered eyebrow waxing.

We started this monthly tradition last year and we’ve done some serious food damage and story telling ever since. Major love.

I think this photo is going to be the one that officially classifies me as a Food Blogger, don’t you?

Know what else I love? That we can send crazy texts to each other like this one on our way to dinner, and then have an epic FAIL in the process. And share big laughs about it when we get to the restaurant.

I’m sure we annoy the crap out of every poor patron within earshot, but it is crazy good fun. We’ve only missed our get-togethers one time EVER, but my dinner dates have forgiven me since it was the day I found out my amazing mom had breast cancer (she’s done with treatment and doing great, by the way).

We will all be heading to our 20th high school reunion together in a few weeks. As I get (ahem) older, I have a whole new perspective on what it means to be part of the “in” crowd and the value of true, authentic friendships.

At the risk of being one big cliché here, LIFE IS SHORT.

I don’t want to spend my precious time worrying about fitting in or wearing the right brand or having the perfect body. Or eyebrows.

I want to spend the time I have here with people who want to be with me, despite my character flaws and unwashed hair.

The Refrigerator Friends. You know, the ones that you feel comfortable enough with to just walk into their home, open their fridge, and help yourself.

Aaaaaand, somehow it always comes back to food.

In other news, here’s my run re-cap from yesterday:

Guess what? I totally bonked on this run. Speaking of food, I hadn’t eaten enough of it. Or drank nearly enough water. It makes a difference, guys. Let me tell you.

On the top of my to-do list: FOCUS ON WHAT I’M PUTTING IN MY BODY.

What’s up for your weekend? I’d love to hear from you!