It was like 42 here today. Which is a heat wave, believe me. The sun is shining and the sky is blue, and Iowa has actually fooled me into thinking that spring is just around the corner. Not so, not so. I was so excited when I learned the high would be in the 40s today. Taylor had finals and got out at 11:30. Being the ugly mom that I am, we hit the Wendy's drive-thru on the way home.
Owen crashed for a nap, Taylor hit the books and I was out the door for a 3 mile run. People, I hate running. I am truly inspired by Christy/Anna/Nicole's dedication to log the miles, but puh-leez, I just can't get past the I'm-so-bored-I-could-die phase. 25 minutes feels like 25 hours.
Here are some observations I made on my 25 hour jaunt around the lake:
a) 42 isn't quite so warm when a stiff 15 mph wind is blowing in your face, and you didn't bother to wear anything warm.
b) If the ducks and other woodland creatures can walk across the lake, it's still too dang cold to be running outside
c) The shadow of my butt was playing tricks on my eyes while running. I kept thinking it was my shirt flapping in the breeze, but now I'm not so sure. I think if there were an equation to calculate the area of my derriere it would look something like this:
A = 3(2lw + 2lh + 2wh)
('3' represents the squishy coefficient, you can rate yourself on a scale of 1-5, 5 being the squishiest)
d) Eating Wendy's before running and perhaps ever at all is not a good idea.
1) Did you know there is a tomato shortage right now? You have to specially request them at Wendy's. I'm sure there's no shortage of thin mints, except in my house, because I ate them all.
e) I read an article in USMS Swimmer that a study done by Harvard says fat found under the skin, particularly around the buttocks, may help reduce the risk of developing diabetes. The picture accompanying said article is ridiculously insulting. It's the fanny of a swimsuit model pinching her "fat." The caption reads, "JUNK IN THE TRUNK?" If that's JITT (junk in the trunk, duh), then I'm managing my own personal junk yard. I'd show you the pic, but that would take effort (not of my junk yard...).
1) Speaking of buttocks, I swim with a gentleman who happens to be an inventor. He currently makes and sells pads you put in your underwear to remove the smell from your flatulence. For reals. He was at a convention in Las Vegas and was interviewed and then televised on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno. He (myfriend) said the word "buttocks" on national TV with a straight face. It's probably still on YouTube.
f) And the conversation I had with myself, in my head of course, not outloud. "There are a lot of weird people walking around the lake right now. If someone were to attack me, what would I do? Hmmm. Lake's too cold, but if it was warmer I would totally swim for it. Chain link fence on this side, I could, perhaps scale it and then run screaming for help down the railroad tracks. Oh, there's a lot of big rocks along the path, I could crush their knee caps, so they wouldn't be able to come after me, but I wouldn't want to hurt them too bad." WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH ME? Maybe this is why I hate running, because I have way too much time (like 25 hours) to think about weird random things. Gah.
23 comments:
Those were the best 25 hours I've ever read. Loved. Them. Cold air and trapped flatulence make your mind particularly sharp, my friend. You should go with it.
So, in your caclulation, I am down with the squishy coefficient rating, but where do you figure in the dimple cotangent? Or does that just work itself out from all the Ls, Ws and Hs sloshing around?
Regarding F) I recommend using your Flatulence Catchers as weapons. Have you ever seen the study where a man and woman wore gas catcher bags to see who passes more gas in a day -- men or women -- and at the end of the day they both had enormous bags of fart (relatively equal amounts, though I beg to differ on that). Well, you condense all that into one filter pad and it has to be pretty potent, particularly after eating at Wendy's. I'm thinking holding one over an attackers nose would be at least as effective as a Dutch Oven, which can be quite powerful. So I've heard.
Oh my. Did I just write almost an entire comment about farts? Living in an all-male house has turned me into something scary.
Dying. Laughing.
Sara and Deb, you two are hi-freakin-larious!
But let's get down to it -- I hated running until my first 8 miler. Seriously. HAAAATTTED it. And at least you swim. I mean, I'm not all drowny McDrownsalot over here, but the idea of trying a triathlon paralyzes me with fear because:
1. I don't think I'd do very well wearing cut off sweat shorts over my suit so as not to expose anyone to the horror that is my bottom, and,
d) I haven't been in a large body of water without a kid in my arms for oh....7 years...so although I can tread water, actually swimming a lap would probably kill me.
Also too, on my run on Monday every time I was approaching a single male I was thinking, "Okay, if he tries to grab me, I'll (insert tough chick kung fu move here)". This just means we are normal, but you at least had a shot of escaping in a pond/lake. I'd have jumped in and treaded until he caught me.
P.S. Did one of you fart in a Dutch Oven? Is that what I am getting here?
I'm trying desperately not to LOL in order to keep all of my boys asleep. Especially the one who is 6 ft. tall(ish) and very, ahem, deprived lately. Maybe I should get some of those fart filters and use them as "perfume."
I hated running too. Like I've said before it's a love hate relationship for me. What helps is having a running partner or a goal to focus on. Running aimlessly did me no good.
I also find, even today, that the first three miles are the toughest. This is probably why I hated running by myself because I would always stop at three miles. But now that I am training for something and have a running partner I am running up to 8-9 miles at a time. The two of us always say while running on the tough days "we just need to get to three, this will get so much better" and it does.
Keep on keeping on girl!
As for swimming as much as you do: THAT I can NEVER understand! Which is why I am doing a duathlon not a triathalon! LOL!
Nicole, Nicole ... where do you live that you have not heard of a Dutch Oven? Allow me to explain: Dutch Ovens occur when a person (Spouse) passes gas under sheet/blankets, pulls aforementioned sheet/blankets up over the head of the Innocent Spouse (married to aforementioned Spouse), thereby trapping the offending odor about and around the Innocent Spouse. Like a Dutch Oven. Please tell me it isn't just me that knows this piece of trivia.
Ahhh Deb -- what we have here is a mix up of regional terminology. Where I come from, that's called a Covered Wagon.
Whatever you call it, it should be a capital offense. ESPECIALLY on protein bar days (shudder).
Okay, sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. Covered Wagon (where are you from, nicole? Are these names regional?!) or Dutch Oven. Both are making me gag. And laugh. And vow to myself that I will never allow Chase to read the comments section of this blog post. Ever.
I'll be the one to say that I love running. There's something very cathartic in it for me. It just never feels like a punishment - even on the days when I want to die. I'm dying happily.
Now SWIMMING...well if you're talking about anything more than sitting in the kiddie pool talking to the other moms at playgroup, that's just too much for me.
I'll say this Sara, Wendy's + cold run = crazy hilarious. You're getting a double dose while you're here so I can take advantage of SST (Silly Sara Time, duh).
Covered wagon. I like that. Way easier than farting in a pot with a lid.
Easily the best blog I've read in a while. And the comments were just icing on the cake. Nicole: Covered Wagon? I love it! Mike thinks it's quite hilarious to subject me to these. And trust me, it's no joke. He'd need at least three layers of fart filters to mask his stench. Fo Sho.
And Sara, I get all paranoid when running also, too. Except there usually aren't people around. And I just think to myself, "Stay away from that tree! There might be a guy behind it!"
But running is fun for me. Because I usually do it on a treadmill. And watch TV. If I have to run outside, man...that IS brutal! I only do it when it's sunny outside. Because then I can at least get tan while I'm doing it. And I'll do it for the tan. Because I look real crappy pale.
Alyssa, to be fair you should mention that while you may look "crappy pale" you also tan easier than most white people of Scottish and Danish descent that I know. I haven't forgotten the day at Iona pool when I was 10 and you were, what 7 and you literally laid in the shade under the umbrella AND GOT A RIGHTEOUS TAN while I was sitting in the baking sun for hours only to earn a throbbing, scorching sunburn on my nose. Cool.
Anna, how on EARTH did you find a man who didn't know about farting in the covers instinctively?!?! I thought it came with a Y chromosome. Hang on to Chase, he's a keeper.
I am a little disappointed that the Dutch Oven wasn't some Kilgore family joke. I had envisioned all of you letting one go in an actual dutch oven to see how nasty you could get it, and then some sort of dare involving who could take the biggest whiff without passing out (my money was on Alyssa, BTW -- although Chrysta caught my kid's vomit in her hand and didn't even FLINCH. Mad skills in the nasty department, that Chrysta).
Boone's old roommate had a Hershey Kiss jar that he thought "looked the shape of a fart if farts had shapes", so naturally, he used it to trap and store his flatulence for months. Boone put it through the dishwasher once and the guy was TICKED.
And now comes the part of the comment where I realize I have spent absurd amounts of time imagining bizarre games at Kilgore family reunions.
Nicole, for a few moments there I forgot you WEREN'T a Kilgore! And by the way, I would TOTALLY win! I can whiff a lot of farts...
Sara - if your thoughts while running create this kind of response, you need to blog them EVERY TIME YOU RUN!!
Hilarity. Fer sure.
I'm running some errands in Hershey today -- shall I pick up some fart-shaped jars for the group? I could probably get a discount if I explain to the manager what they're for, particularly if I do it loudly in front of lots of customers. Not so sure Hershey want's to be connected with farts...though it would likely be brilliant marketing for the male demographic.
Fart jars...wow. Just. Wow.
You all know that we weren't even allowed to SAY fart in the Kilgore home, correct?! The one and ONLY time I ever got my mouth washed out with soap was when I said that word. Back me up on this, Lyll.
It's true. Anna got her mouth washed out with soap for saying
"fart". And it was hilarious to watch!!
Honestly, I don't even know how this comment thread ended up here. Should I be proud or ashamed?
And the toot catchers have a brand name, in case you're looking for stocking stuffers for Christmas or an actual gift for someone super smelly in your life, Flat-D. You heard it here first.
Oy. I must be a jolt to the Kilgore system. Good thing I'm technically a Blanchard and only a Kilgore through their good will. I can sort of be like that crazy uncle that no one ever acknowledges. Now that I think about it, I'm probably a jolt to the Blanchards/Kraabels as well.
Poor Matt.
I think you're a good jolt to the system. Kinda like how electricity would be a good jolt to the Amish Community. Not accepted at first but once they see the benefits they at least keep it in the barn.
Glad you enjoyed my mouth-washing, Lyll. You probably slipped mom a $20 afterwards...
Holy Cow. This comment thread went ballistic and somehow I missed it! Karl just wandered in half asleep and wondered what was wrong because I was trying to stifle my giggles and must have sounded like I was crying. I couldn't bring myself to tell him what the heck was so funny. He definitely toots under the covers in his sleep, but he's in Chase's camp as far as purposely subjecting me to it goes.
And now that all of my boys are finally in bed, I can run to Wal-Mart at 10:35 for some diapers. Yay.
Ooooh. WalMart + LateNight = Good Fun!
OK, Sara--your family is hysterical! I must admit I have never heard of Dutch ovens, covered wagons or any of the sort. I did see the fart bag special and have my doubts about the findings that men and women fart the same amount. I mean, come on...
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