High-cost Torture

I just registered for the Columbus marathon. It cost me almost $70 just to register, and I still have to spring for the hotel while I'm there, plus meals. Not to mention all the "running stuff" I've had to buy just to train for the darn thing. Shoes, socks, moisture-wicking clothing (believe me, when you're running 10+ miles in 95 degree heat like I did this summer, it is a necessary thing), Gatorade (lots of it) energy bars (lots of them), toe caps (these amazing silicone things you slip over your toes to keep them from blistering on those long, pounding runs), body glide (it looks like stick deoderant, but it keeps your skin from chafing where your clothes rub in the same spot for hours on end).

Despite my getting tired of the training and complaining a lot about it lately, I'm looking forward to that day in Columbus and spending a lot of quality time with my sister.

Here's hoping that the satisfaction I get from training for and accomplishing a pretty daunting goal will be priceless.

The end is in sight!

I don't have too much to say, but since I haven't written in a while, I thought I'd give you a little something to read today.

Well, the last of my long runs before the marathon is over. My sis and I ran 20 miles on Saturday, and I have to say it was one of the toughest lessons in perseverance I've ever had. By mile 18, I just didn't feel like running anymore. I was sick of it. While my legs were starting to get tired, it was more of a mental thing. I was tired of seeing the same old scenery go by yet again. Through the course of the three hours it took us to do it, we saw groups of people come and go from the park – heck, we even outlasted the bike riders! I always said that I didn't have the desire to do a marathon not because of the physical aspect of it, but the mental. I was right in my thinking in that it's certainly harder to train your mind to run for three or more hours than it is to train your body to do so. Hmmm, I wonder what happened to my lack of desire to run a marathon? It was really just a lapse, because that lack of desire is back, I've just come too far now to quit!

Along with the marathon training, I've also been training for my big martial arts tournament coming up on Oct. 8. Last night, I worked hard for two and a half hours and feel good about the progress I've made. However, I think I overdid it and pushed myself too far. After working out for that long at the school, I still had to get my five miles in last night. So, I came home, put on my running shoes, and eeked out a VERY SLOW five miles at 9:00 at night. You know what? I'm just too old for that. I'm so tired and sore today. I still haven't recovered from the 20 miles on Saturday. What was I thinking?

In three more weeks, it will all be over – the tournaments, the marathon – everything. I plan on being a slug and making myself a fixture at the Osborn's house if they'll have me. Their house is a great place to unwind and forget about everything you "should" be doing and being completely focused on what you "want" to be doing – which in my case will be just being still and slug-like. Plus, the delightful new addition will make it that much more joyful to be there.

Time for a whine

Okay. I don't think I've done a whiny post yet. Here it goes.

I'm sick of running. I am supercallafragalistically sick of running. I have to run 10 miles today and I don't want to. I'm tired of being disciplined. All I really want to do today is go home after work, eat a HUGE non-runner-like dinner that would certainly include GiantEagleWhiteCakewithWhippedCreamFrosting. (yes, that's a new word in my vocabulary now.) Speaking of cake, GiantEagleWhiteCakewithWhippedCreamFrosting to be exact, my birthday is coming up soon, hint, hint :)

Anyway, back to the whine. I ran 5 miles on Monday, I have to run 10 miles today. I'll run 4 miles on Friday and 20 TWENTY! miles on Saturday. I was tired of running three days a week, now it's four days a week until the marathon. I don't have time to do anything else excpet work and run, work and run, work and run. When I'm not working or running, I'm training for the big martial arts tournament that is happening a week before the marathon, October 8. Wait. Did someone say October 8? That's my birthday! I think I might have mentioned something about it earlier (GiantEagleWhiteCakewithWhippedCreamFrosting). So, the times when I'm not working, running, running, running or training for the tournament, I'm just too darn exhausted to do anything else!

I can't wait for the marathon to be over. I'll never do it again. You guys, as my friends, please remind me of these words if I ever dare utter the phrase "I think I'd like to do another marathon." I'm holding you to it.

My birthday is coming up (GiantEagleWhiteCakewithWhippedCreamFrosting), and I've decided that since I'll be 36, I can start using the excuse "I'm just too old for that" when something comes up that I don't want to do. For instance, "Hey Kimber, you want to train for a marathon with me?" I'll say, "No, I'm just too old for that." or "Hey Kim, do you want to spend all afternoon raking leaves?" I'll say, "No, I'm just too old for that." See what you all have to look forward to? Getting old is not all bad.

So, my legs feel like two 100-pound lead weights today, but I'm going to go out and pound some more pavement this evening with my sis. Ugh. There is one bright spot in all this whining…this is the last week for the loooonnnnnggggg runs until the marathon. The long run next week is only 10 miles and it tapers off from there. Now, I just need to survive Saturday.

On second thought, I think I'll skip Saturday. I'm just too old for that.

Does this kind of thing happen to you?

Okay. I knew it would happen one day, and today was the day. (This is the last of my bathroom stories – for a little while, at least).

I went to the restroom here at work (you know, the one with the three stalls, the one on the left being my favorite). I sat and with utter revulsion stood up again quickly because without my knowledge, someone had been there before me. Not too long before me, either, judging by the warmth of the seat. I HATE sitting on a warm seat. – not a seat warmed by the sun, or the heated seat in my car on a cold winter's day – no, a seat that is warm because someone else was just sitting there. ICK!

I know, I know. I've heard it all before. It's silly, yes. I get it. But I still hate it. It just grosses me out. Really.

Whenever I encounter this problem, I have to stand beside the seat and wait for a couple of minutes for it to cool off before I sit down. This has been a problem at amuzement parks because the ride attendants usually end up telling me I must sit down because the ride is starting soon.

Back to my story. I sat on the seat in MY stall, and it was warm. So, I quickly stood up, let it cool off, swallowed my revulsion, and sat when the seat was cool again. I still wasn't able to completely dispell the sensation, but since then I have been able to return to some degree of normalcy.

People think I'm still single because of all my weird quirks. Let me fill you in on a little secret. It's because I WANT to be, folks. I WANT TO BE!

Confession Time

Okay, Okay. I have a small confession to make.

Here at work, the restroom has three stalls in it. I tend to use the same stall every time, and it's the one on the far left if you're facing the row of stalls. I've noticed that if someone comes in to use the facilities while I'm in there, they always ALWAYS skip the middle stall and use the far right one. I have never had someome pick the stall right next to mine if the other one is open. So, (here's where the confession comes in) what I like to do is this:

If someone is in "my stall" (like horses ha ha ha ha) when I go in there, I ALWAYS choose the stall right next to theirs because I figure it makes them uncomfortable. They're probably in there thinking "why that one? why not choose the one on the far right? I wonder if she's looking at my shoes?" It's a small bit of harmless fun in my day to think that just by choosing a bathroom stall, I may take someone out of their comfort zone. Is that wrong? In my own way, am I helping them to grow? People are funny, huh?

It's 11:26 now.

Time Again

There I go with my time again. It's not really 6 in the morning. I'm at work, so it's at least 8:30. What? You think I'm Elizabeth or something?

There, that's more like it.

A toe by any other name is still a toe

I haven't posted in a while, so I thought it was about time. Actually, I got a tiny little reprimand from E, and to avoid the whole e-mail/BLOG WENCH blitz that we all so kindly hit Mel with, I thought I should empty the contents of my brain here today to let you all know what I've been thinking. So here it goes…

This past Saturday, I ran 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. 18 miles. And my toe hurts. Still.

I don't even mention the shorter runs during the week now – they just seem so inconsequential (is that a word?) If I had more motivation right now, I'd go to dictionary.com to find out. I digress. My toe hurts. I know it seems small, but it's a big pain in the, well, TOE. I can't wait until this marathon is over. I'm really getting tired of the discipline and the dedication it takes to be a marathon runner. Really, I think this is just the toe talking. I'm sure I'll feel very good about myself when this is all over. Unless, of course, my toe actually falls off during the course of the 26.2 miles I'll have to run to complete this marathon. In that case, I will be sorry I ever embarked on this crazy adventure. I'll be 10 pounds lighter and toeless.

After the run on Saturday, my sis and I went to Tammy and Terry's house where Tammy was kind enough to put on a cooking clinic for the girls. What fun it was. Those of you who have ever tasted anything she's made know she's a fantastic cook. Saturday was no exception, and we were all the beneficiaries of her wisdom in the kitchen. We made Chinese food – steamed flower dumplings, egg rolls and fried rice. We made up Haiku poems pertaining to the night which ended up being quite fun and funny. I wrote them down, so I'll post them in a later. Here's one where three of us each made up a line:

Egg on my finger
Acts like glue to seal in taste
An egg roll is born

Okay. I'll post some more later. I have a cool idea about Mel and E being our personal super heroes, but it's an idea I must develop a little further before I post about it.

I think I may be a music snob

I just got my Andrew Peterson CD in the mail a couple of days ago. All of you were right – it's fantastic. That's a pretty lame word to describe the music of what could possibly be the best songwriter of our day. Wow. To be able to express oneself like that…

I find myself becoming quite a music snob, however. I got an email from a friend asking me what I was listening to these days. Of course, I replied "Andrew Peterson blah, blah, blah. What about you?" He emails me back and says Chris Tomlin and Casting Crowns. Now, I'm not saying anything negative about either of these two artists – Chris Tomlin is high-energy, there aren't too many Christian musicians who I've seen rock like that – but in my opinion, neither one comes close to the talent that Andy has. In fact, very few are able to express themselves with the very words that make you stop what you're doing and feel what he must have felt when he wrote the song. Or, even better, feel something completely different based on your own life experiences. How is he able to express my feelings better than I can? Genius, I say. Genius.

The point is, Andy's music moves. He writes the words every songwriter wishes they had written. They're just commom words (to quote another fantastic song!), but the way he puts them together… well, there's certainly nothing common about that.

So, this friend of mine says he's going to check out the new Andrew Peterson CD. I'm sure he'll love it. He's a music lover and a Christian, so how could he not?

As far as my being a music snob, I've concluded that to be a true snob, you would have to horde it and not pass it along.

They prefer to be called "Evacuees"

I heard on the news this morning that those who have been displaced by the terrible tragedy that was (and still is) Katrina are taking offense at being called "refugees". They claim that it is a "racial" comment, and that if they where white, they wouldn't be called refugees. Hmmmm.

Merriam-Webster has this definition for refugee: One who flees in search of refuge, as in war, political oppression or religious persecution.

Okay, these people (and here I'm including people of all races, gender, ages, etc.) have fled to various parts of the country for refuge – sadly, they no longer have homes, they had to flee. Granted, it's not for any of the reasons listed in the definition, but the words "as in" are used to show that what follows are merely examples as to why people might flee in search of refuge. It's not an exhaustive list.

I saw Jesse Jackson on his soapbox on the news, and he made me want to throw up. He's so full of #%&*@!&% that I can't stand to look at him, much less listen to him. It's people like him and Al Sharpton (funny how they both call themselves "reverend") that cause much of the racial tension in this country. Anyway, I digress. Jesse was on the news fuming about the word "refugee" and alluding to the fact that this term is being used in a derogatory manner – a racial slur. Please. It's just a word. It means what it means. Don't take it to be a racial slur, and all of a sudden, it's not a racial slur. Funny how that works, Jesse. Now, he's got a whole lot of people up in arms at being called "refugees." Great. Just one more reason for them to become angry and start raping and killing each other.

I know, I know. How insensitive of me. They're not all like that. I know.

I just talked to my friend who is a police officer in Houston, and he worked at the Astrodome all last night. There are 15,000 people living there right now, and the people of Houston have embraced them and their plight. Did you know that none of them pitch in to help each other? No one volunteers to help serve each other food. No one volunteers to help pick up the mounds of trash that's littering the floors. No one volunteers to help clean the bathrooms and showers that they use. No one volunteers to help each other. That makes me sad.

Since the arrival of these displaced persons, the once quiet and law-abiding neighborhoods surrounding the Astrodome have seen a big increase in the levels of break-ins, looting, shootings and rapes. I'm not pointing any fingers, I'm just giving you the facts that were given to me.

It must sound like I have no compassion whatsoever. That's not the case, I do. For every distasteful incident you hear about, there are probably hundreds of inspirational stories of people overcoming great adversity.

On the news yesterday, there was a crew at the Astrodome and they were walking around the makeshift shelter. The camera just happened to focus on this lady reading. The book in her lap was the Bible. I wonder if she brought her own Bible when she fled, or are there Bibles available for those who want them? Anyway, I'm sure there are a lot of those at the Dome who are wondering where God is about now. It was amazing to see this lady sitting on her cot taking comfort in the Word of God as the hustle of another busy day of surviving was going on around her.

From where does motivation come?

I wish it came from a coffee-flavored elixir. If it did, I'd drink a gallon of it right now. (Which probably wouldn't help my productivity being that I'd be in the restroom a lot). What is it about the word "elixir" that makes an ordinary drink extraordinary?

For the past week I've had serious motivation issues. I don't want to do ANYTHING. No work, no running, no kicking and punching, no guitar playing…well, you get the idea. NOTHING! Just eating. And sleeping. That's it. I really need to get out of this funk – I have too much going on. Maybe that's the problem. I have too much going on.

So, I need to reverse this downward spiral (it's really not as bad as all that), and to do that, I'm going to j

I'm not sure what my thought was there. I got sidetracked just now right in the middle of that stream of thought and when I came back to it, I forgot what I was saying. See what I mean? I don't know where my brain is. Kimmy, do you have my half?

On a brighter note, I've been doing better with my posting times.