Weblog

Wednesday, 04 November 2009

  • Dear Lummox Who Kept Stepping on my Toe Sunday Night-

    I kicked you.  Twice.  I was simply trying to enjoy a rock show in someone's very crowded living room.  You, on the other hand, were intent on ridiculous air drumming and drunken lurching.  In the process, you repeatedly smashed the crap out of the toe I have started to call Stumpy in honor of its partial toenail.  I kicked you in the ankle bone and again right on that tendon that runs up the back of your ankle. I know this because I aimed carefully.  At the time, I thought I might've been being unnecessarily hostile.  You were a twenty-year-old having a good time.  I was bitter, sober old woman.  But now, my giant-headed friend, I wish that I had kicked you harder.   Because the toenail lost to running is about to be lost again to your antics.  It dangles.  It throbs.  And, despite my pretty pink pedicure, it looks disgusting.  I hope you have a bruise. And a hangover. 

    Running is going well, along those Couch to 5k guidelines.  Toe pain, notwithstanding.  My clever--and biennial--resolution to use the time change as an impetus to get up early and run has utterly failed.  This morning I actually overslept ten minutes. 


    In nutritional news, I've decided to approach all holiday eating with a piece of fruit.  I have a worse, more conflicted relationship with food than with all the boys I've ever known combined.  I'm trying, though, a more sensible than usual approach to eating this winter.  I plan on eating all the junk food my little heart desires, provided it's proceded by a raw fruit or vegetable and a ten minute wait.  Additionally, I plan on matching my diet Coke consumption with green tea.  Yesterday's leftover Halloween candy, therefore, was matched with a color-coordinating banana.  I have faith in this strategy.

Tuesday, 27 October 2009

  • Yesterday I was driving past a high school during football practice and thought to myself "gee, that looks fun." 


    Even though I wasn't able to run my marathon, I've spent the past week relaxing as I'd planned. When pms has suggested I might consider eating some jalapeno cheetos, I have eaten jalapeno cheetos.  When laziness suggested I watch some tv in my jammies, I have watched some tv in my jammies.  And it has been delightful.

    I decided that the sudden urge to play football was a sign that maybe I should get back to working out.  I'll be running my next marathon in April, so it's a bit too early to start training.  Instead, I've hopped on the Couch to 5k bandwagon.  I hope to increase my overall speed by going back to the very, very beginning to improve my speed at smaller distances.  I also am looking forward to running for only ten minutes at a time during these cozy, lazy fall days.

Friday, 09 October 2009

  • status update

    Today's mail brought another twenty bucks, so our total sits at $709.80.  Also, my throat feels sandpapered. 

    The weather report for Wichita next Sunday says sixty and sunny.  When I run far, cold weather makes me cry, so I hope this prediction is accurate.  It sounds ideal. 

    What?  Cold weather doesn't make you cry?  Hrm. 

Monday, 05 October 2009

  • cough cough snork

    It's now practically impossible to do anything to make myself readier for this marathon.  Except practice magical thinking.  For instance, in the name of better hydration, I've given up all caffeine save the one cup of morning coffee that's necessary to keep me from homicide or caffeine headaches.  It's Monday morning, and I have no idea what I was thinking with that resolution.  I'm drinking hot water because, well, the coffee's done been drunk.  Sigh.

    The great thing about the swine flu is that things that were simply good hygiene and good manners suddenly demonstrate an admirable commitment to the public welfare.  I have a rattly chest cold and washing my hands every few minutes is less OCD and more Florence Nightingale than ever before.  More magical thinking: mucinex, fluids, vitamin c, zinc, and

     
    These teas taste, with varying degrees of grossness, like pond water.  Which means they're working, right?

    You know what's worse than running a long way with a cold?  Making out with someone when you both have colds.  I don't recall ever having done this, but I feel confident in my assertion.  And that must be the only thing.


Friday, 02 October 2009