AND I RAN, I RAN SO FAR AWAY

Oh my God, people.

You'll never guess what I just finished doing, not in a million, trillion years so I'll just go ahead and tell you.

I ran.

I am not shitting you.


I ran.


For reals.

I KNOW!!!!

And yes, I am dying. 


Hang on, I have to put my head between my knees.


And breathe into a paper bag.


What's that bright light?


The last time I ran and not because I was being chased by a pack of zombie dogs was, well, let me think.


High school.


So what brought on this madness (MADNESS! I say!)?


Since I'm doing the Run Seal Beach 10K next month, I figured I'd better be able to say with all honesty that I ran at least part of it.


And because I want to be in much better shape by the time I hit the big Five Oh than I was when I hit the big Four Oh.


Which ain't saying much as I haven't been in the greatest shape throughout my 40s due to a love of Crack and Silver Bullets.


Although I rarely drink beer any more.  Maybe one beer once a month, if that.


Anyway.


Seeing as I can be filed under "well endowed" I figured if I was going to do this running thing, I'd better get me a serious sports bra so that I wouldn't get knocked out while running.


And a serious bra it is.  Ugly, too.

That's not me modeling it.  In case you wondered.

It may not be something out of Vicky's Secret but it kept my knockers from knocking me out.

So now you're probably wondering just how far/long did I run?

Well, I'll be honest and admit that I did not run the entire 2 miles.  

Because have you SEEN me?

I would run for about 30 seconds and then walk for 90.  

Run from the stop sign to the next block and so on and so forth.

I figured out of the 2 miles I did, I ran a total of about 3/4 of a mile which may not seem much but hello?

Have you SEEN me?


So, yay me and let's hope I don't wake up dead tomorrow.

 

CONCRETE EVIDENCE

 Do you know what that picture is of?  And yes, I did end my sentence with a preposition and I'm going to Grammar Hell in a bucket and I will enjoy the ride.

But back to the original question.

That picture is of my finished kitchen countertops AND backsplash.

I KNOW!!!

TheManTheMyth finished up on Sunday and I love Love LOVE the results.

Here's a closeup of the counter:

Can you believe it's CONCRETE?


I KNOW!!!!!

At the rate TMTM is going, this kitchen remodel might will be finished by 2013.

And no, that date is not a misprint.


There is still lots left to do.  The ceiling still needs to be sanded (again) and painted (again).  


The entry needs a little, um, help

the hardwood floors (still) need to be refinished, the living room will have to be painted so yeah, 2013 is a legitimate finish estimate.

Because why rush these things?
 

SPRING FORWARD AND ROCK ON

Can someone please explain to me WHY we still have Daylight Savings Time when it is no longer necessary?

I don't mind the "Fall Back" but "Spring Forward?"   Not so much.

On Saturday, I woke up at the unGodly hour of 6:20am but I was all bright eyed and bushy tailed (which sounds like maybe I need to do some "personal grooming") and ready to face the day.  

But yesterday morning, which was when Spring Forward kicked in, I didn't spring out of bed with quite the same vigor as I did the day before.


No.  Instead, I groaned and peered into the darkness and felt as if I had spent the previous night partying hard into the wee small hours of the morning.


Which I hadn't.  My big Saturday night partyfest consisted of watching my Ducks being defeated by the Stars (DISLIKE!) and then watching the Daytona Supercross twice while drinking one, count 'em ONE, beer.


Why did I watch it twice?  We always record Supercross and while we, meaning TheManTheMyth and I, were halfway through, Thing 1 arrived home from HIS long day of motorcycle racing and wanted to watch the race from the beginning.


And to really throw us all for a loop, Thing 2, who has zero interest in motorcycle racing, actually emerged from her cave to watch with us.

So for the first time in I can't even remember how long it's been, all four of us sat together to watch TV.

And yes, the kids bickered the entire time.


Anyway.

I had agreed to meet up at my sister's house at 9:00am for a big long walk and I figured I would wake up around 7:00, 7:30am, read the Sunday paper in a leisurely fashion, eat some breakfast and then head on over.  


But this stupid Spring Forward threw those plans right out the window.

While I did wake up at 7:00ish, it was still kind of dark and gloomy and I just could not get moving.  I stumbled through the house, got dressed, stumbled around some more, checked my e-mails, stumbled around and finally left the house without ever reading my Sunday paper.

When I returned home after doing a 5 mile walk, I STILL felt out of sorts and ended up taking a nap.  And STILL felt like a zombie until it was time to go to bed.


I just don't know how this Daylight Savings Time Spring Forward crap is supposed to make one productive when all it does is screw up sleep patterns and turns one into a zombie.


Get rid of it, I say.


In other news, people here in Southern California are all twitterpated about a rock.


Yes.  A rock.

Stories about said rock made the nightly news, thousands of people would turn out whenever The Rock made a stop and people would just "ooh and ahhh" because there was a rock in their midst.
 
It's a ROCK fercryinoutloud.

A 10 MILLION DOLLAR ROCK.

That will become Art.  With a Capital A. 


Yeah, I don't get it.


Maybe because I'm still in a Spring Forward fog.


Nah.  I don't get it because it's a ROCK.

IN WHICH I AM BEING SABOTAGED

Any time one embarks on a quest for self-improvement via weight loss and exercise, it's not uncommon to encounter some sort of sabotage from friends and/or family.

"Oh, go on and eat that Double Double!  You know you want to!"

"You'd better not lose any more weight, you're getting too thin."

"Oh, should you really DO that 10K/spin class/Zumba?  I wouldn't do it if I were you.  You might hurt yourself."

So I wasn't surprised to discover that yes, I was being sabotaged in my fitness efforts but I WAS shocked at the identity of my saboteur:

That's right.

My dog.

I've committed to doing the Run Seal Beach 10K next month (although I'm walking it because F Cup breasticles aren't made for the running) so I've been walking walking walking and since Gracie Lou insists on her twice daily walks (after dropping off Thing 2 at school and before picking up Thing 2 from school), I figured it was a Win/Win for both of us.

I figured wrong.

We seem to have two different ideas of what a Walk should be.

MY idea is to walk at a brisk pace, not stopping until we have clocked in a minimum of 2 miles.

HER idea is as follows:

Trot at a brisk pace.

Then STOP.

Sniff:

Then pee.

Repeat every 20 feet.  Stop.  Sniff.  Pee.

And if I try to continue while she is stopping, sniffing and peeing, I am brought up short by the leash and for a small dog, she is unmovable when she decides to stop.  Sniff.  Pee.

There have been times I've literally been leaning forward like the Leaning Tower of Pisa while she is planted 15' behind me, refusing to budge and giving me the stink eye.

"Ve vill moof ven I am reddy!  Ja?"

This is why a walk that should take no more than 30 minutes can take up to an hour.

Stop.  Sniff.  Pee.

It's even MORE fun when we're walking along and SQUIRREL!  Then my arm gets yanked out of my shoulder socket when she spies a squirrel and has to take off after it.

That's about the ONLY time she doesn't do Stop. Sniff. Pee.

If I try to sneak out of the house to do a good walk without her, well, I can't. 

She somehow senses my intentions and will fling herself in front of the door, preventing me from leaving without her.

But I WILL prevail!

In other news, look what I got on Wednesday:

That key fob is from Weight Watchers for reaching my original weight loss goal and I am very, VERY proud of it.

Now I'm on to the next level of weight loss.

And I WILL prevail.

Despite my dog's sabotage attempts.

She's lucky she's cute.

 

NO, THANK YOU DAVY JONES

AND NONE FOR GRETCHEN WIENERS

As you know, I was the recipient of a tremendous award this past weekend.

And by "tremendous," I mean in both size and prestige.

This was a Big Deal for me.

So I was looking forward to see the photos that were taken that night by our racing series' Official Photographer.

Until I saw the one picture he took of me.

Or, should I say, of my back. 

And I was all, "Really?  REALLY?"

My hair looked great, by the way. 

*I* looked great, by the way.  Makeup and everything!


Not that you'll see it.  Because the only way I could get a copy of the picture of my back is if I were to buy it.


No thanks.  I'll pass.

What made the lack of a photo even more galling was that everyone else who received a Merit Award had their picture taken.  You know, "Stand there, hold up your award and Smile!"

I feel like Gretchen Weiners when she didn't get a candy cane but there was four for Glen Coco (you go, Glen Coco!)


Yeah, yeah, I know.  Boo frickety hoo.

But still.


Pity, Party of One!  Your table is ready!



 

BEING HELD ACCOUNTABLE

Okay, so back in the tail end of October, I made a decision to join Weight Watchers.  

This decision came about when I stepped on the rotted out subfloor during our kitchen remodel and fell through.


And someone witnessed it.


And that someone made a not-so-funny but legitimate crack about my weight.

And tears of anger, frustration and humiliation were shed.

And that was when I knew it was Time.


And since I had already done two tours of duty with WW with minimal results (MY fault and not the program's), I said to myself, "Hey, third time's the charm!"


So off I went, where I stepped on the scale, whimpered and forged ahead.


So far I've lost 15lbs and I've only missed one meeting (I had flu cooties).


Yay, me!


A couple of weeks ago, our Leader presented a Tracker notebook 

and asked that each week, one member takes it home and and tracks her Points Plus, Activity, etc.  You know, journal.

This week, I volunteered to be the Keeper of the Tracker for two reasons.

1.  Nobody else volunteered.

B.  I've kind of slacked off (kind of???) and needed a kick in the pants to get back on track.  


So of COURSE I had Crack for breakfast.


I know.


But I was honest and I DID write it in the journal.


And felt shame, as well I should.


The girl who kept it last week said to me as she handed it over, "Don't judge me!"


Like I have room to talk.

And at my meeting today, I also decided to splurge on a pedometer and I am bound and determined to get my 10K steps a day in.

I do have a long-term goal:  to do the Long Beach Marathon in October.  

Okay, the HALF Marathon.

And walking, not running because have you SEEN my chest?  SO not made for jogging.  Someone would lose an eye.

So wish me luck and...

Don't judge.