#1 Run a Marathon

Two years ago, about this time of the year, I was meandering through life wondering what to do. I had to scale back quite a bit with school because I had Josh and my days were not quite as full as they once were. Also, I was feeling a little sluggish and out of shape.



I attended a 5k with my sister-in-law on May 20, 2004, The Blood Run for the Hemophilia Society of Utah. I can remember the exact day because it was the day that started everything in motion. I was slow and weak, but I finished. It was just over a week later that I had this great idea to run a marathon. Why not? It was the perfect time in my life. It gave me something to look forward to, it'd get me in shape and I would finally get to cross it off my "list".



I made up this great plan off the top of my head. We would do the Top of Utah Marathon in Logan the following September. My sister-in-law reluctantly (she'll deny it, but I clearly remember the look on her face at the mere mention of a marathon) stayed with me that summer through an insane self-penned training regimen that had us running six days a week and completing two 5ks a month. This lasted until my sister-in-law announced her pregnancy in August. By that time, I had already told everyone under the sun what my plans were and so it was too late for me to back out as well.



While talking with a neighbor who has completed 50-plus marathons himself, I decided in late August that if I was only going to run one marathon in my life, I would want it to be the St. George. It's the most famous one in the state and apparently pretty gorgeous and slightly easier(?) then the other offerings locally.



Over the next 9 months, I finished up my bachelor's degree and tried to keep up my running. It was hard because as it turns out I'm a true fair weather runner. I don't particularly like to run in the cold, the wet, or the wind. Once school was out, I started training hard core. Every Saturday, I'd start off early and run my long runs and then sleep for a few hours, soak in the bathtub and treat myself to lots of sweets and diet coke.



I can distinctly remember running 9 miles and thinking there was no way I was going to be able to go out the next Saturday and run 10. Once I finished with 10 miles, I showered, got back in the car, went to the ice cream shoppe and treated myself to a huge caramel sundae. And a new shirt from the only clothing store in town. Only 16 more miles to go.



The summer wore on and in July, Wade won a spot in the marathon from a local 5k we did. He started training as well and on weekends we were the worst parents, setting our kid in front of the television while we napped.



When October rolled around, I was ready for the whole thing to be over with. I was done with training and spending weekends on the couch. My feet had blistered over and I was tired.



The marathon was the most grueling thing I have ever done. I was kaput by mile 11, but managed to drag myself the final 15 miles to the finish line. I stopped no less than 7 times to pee and had to start using Ben-Gay on my knees at about mile 17. It was excruciating to say the least.



With that being said, the last .20 miles toward the balloon arch signifying the finish line was incredible. I had more energy there then I had since mile 6 and I couldn't believe I had done it.



The circled part of my leg is the muscle definition I gained over the year plus I trained for this one day of glory.

I missed my time goal by over an hour, but in the end, it didn't matter. I had come and I had conquerered. I'd worry about time later.

To date, completing a marathon has been the hardest, most exhilarating experience that I have done on my own free will. Having Josh was the hardest, most exhilarating experience ever, but I had medicine to help and he was coming out whether I wanted him to or not. There was no turning back. But the marathon...I could've turned around at any point and put the whole nonsense behind me, but for once I followed through and did it. And could even smile after it was all over and done with. That's why it's number 1 on the list.

Why Don't They Teach You About This in Driver's Ed?

Somedays are prime candidates for funny blog entries. Today didn't start out that way. I was going to take advantage of the good weather and meet a friend for a picnic at a park in North Salt Lake.

I went outside, buckled Josh in the car, got his bike and our lunches and headed off to freedom. We were cruising along on the freeway, listening to talk radio when I hear a faint meow. Then another, much louder meow. I ask Josh if he's pretending he's a kitty. "No," came his reply. Then some more distressed meowing. Then it dawns on me that in this smallish, metal vehicle that is going 80 miles an hour there is a loose cat. Cats, as you may know, are not famous for their car passenger skills. In fact, many hate to be in cars.

I frantically grab the phone and dial Wade, but he doesn't pick up. Then I try my mom. She's not home either. I'm not sure what they would have been able to do about this except laugh, so it's probably a good thing neither one of them answered. Then I finally get a hold of my senses and pull off on to SR-201 so I can turn around. I think for a minute that perhaps it's a stray kitty and I can just let it go by the side of the road and continue on my way, but as I glance into the back seat, I notice that it is in fact one of my kitties and so I have to go home. I briefly consider taking him with me to the park, but decide that this is a bad plan. He may get out of the car, but he probably won't get back in. Besides, the meowing has reached a high decibel range and we're 10 minutes from home instead of 40. The whole time Josh is chanting "kitty in car, mommy. Kitty in car, mommy." This serves as a reminder that this particular cat is not the friendliest of our two cats, especially towards Josh, and I can only imagine what being in a car is doing to the cat's demeanor.

So I turn around and head home. Meanwhile, Mocaco, the cat stuck in my vehicle, is trying to paw his way through my clothes. He wants to sit on my lap...no, he wants to sit on my feet...no, he wants to go through the window. I'm trying to keep him from attaching himself permanently to my scalp all while trying to steer my way home. Meanwhile, he's figured out how to lock and unlock the doors, roll down the windows, flip the turn signals, and flash the brights. If I had a camera to capture the look on people's faces as they drove by, it'd be priceless. I'm sure I was swerving and looking like a complete lunatic on the road as I tried to navigate us to safety. And then to see me wrestling with a cat as they passed?

Luckily, after she calmed herself down enough to speak, my friend was quite understanding that I was going to be nearly an hour late for our picnic due to the unforeseen incident with the cat. I made it home without being clawed (thank goodness we had the front paws declawed when we got them) to death and as far as I can tell, he didn't pee either. Cat pee is some caustic stuff that is hard to remove from upholstery.

Mocaco's brief ride has worn him out and as far as I can tell has spent the rest of the day lounging in the rays of sunshine that the sun casts through the windows.

A Step by Step Guide to Playing With a Three Year Old

Step 1: Abandon all preconceived notions that you are "playing". This is merely an exercise in receiving orders


Step 2: Sit down exactly where you are told to. Do not try to scoot over to rest your tired back on something. Do you lay down. Do not kneel.


Step 3: These are HIS toys and he will let you know which ones you are allowed to play with. These will invariably by the ones he doesn't care for as much as the other ones. Do not, under any circumstances, touch the other ones.

Step 4: Three Year Old (TYO) will direct you to your area of the playroom. This is where you will play. He gets reign over the rest of the room, but you must stay in this area. Do not cross into his play area. This will result in a melt down of astonishing proportions.

Step 5: He will give you precise instructions on how to "play" with your misfit toys. They will sound something like this: "Take this and klcaboutaberd sasdfertfgasdf sdfsdjlsgss, okay mommy?"

Step 6: TYO will then return to his (much larger and spacious) play area and proceed with his playing. Having not yet translated klcaboutaberd sasdfertfgasdf sdfsdjlsgss, you will try to mimic what he is doing. That is apparently not what klcaboutaberd sasdfertfgasdf sdfsdjlsgss means. This results in a meltdown because you're not "playing" right.

Step 7: After yelling at you and giving you more precise instructions: "sdesgsrewtg hiouewtjg seeuoikjsdf wetaisdgjfgsdg. Yowetkjsagsdg sdkfietlsdkgj right here. Crash! Okay, Mommy?" You finally ask him to show you what to do. He concedes to show the imbecile parent how to properly play with his toys. It looks easy enough.

Step 8: Repeat Steps 5-Steps 7 until you're both in tears.

Step 9: Start over with a new set of misfit toys and vow to be more attentive.

Step 10: Engage him in a new activity while you slip away to retrieve your book and read.

Book Review Friday 4/25/2008

Book: Curse of the Spellmans
Author: Lisa Lutz
Pages: 400

This is the sequel to the Spellman Files I read last month. I enjoyed Lutz's writing style the first time around and figured I'd enjoy the next installment. Which I did. Mostly.

PI Izzy is back with all her antics and tricks and paranoia. The book starts off with Lizzy being bailed out of jail by her octogenerian lawyer. He needs the facts of the case so they can start preparing their defense. It's not looking good since this is her fourth arrest in 2 months (though she claims two of them didn't count).

So Izzy starts from the beginning. A new neighbor moved in with the all-too common name of John Brown. This sparks Izzy's curiousity and she's off to try to find out what he's hiding. She becomes obsessed with this new guy and is eventually slapped with a restraining order, which she inevitably violates. The story follows Izzy as she tries to capture Suspect doing something illegal while trying to sidestep her parents ever careful eyes. Coupled with Izzy's little sister, Rae, and her crazy existence as well as Izzy's older brother's breakdown from his usual perfection, the Spellmans' are back to their usual form--dysfunctional and paranoid.

I enjoyed the story, but I had a hard time with Lutz's writing style this go round. She referenced a lot of foot notes and sometimes I found that I missed the footnote in the page, so I would have to search for it after finishing the page. It made it hard to get completely engrossed in the novel. Also, she shamelessly promoted her first book throughout this second book. I hate when authors do that.

With that being said, I did finish it in one night, so I must've enjoyed it quite a bit. I would recommend this series to someone who is looking to get away from serious deep stuff for a stint and read something light hearted and fun.

Happy Birthday!

Joshua Wade was born at 10:31 am on Monday, April 25, 2005. When we first found out we were pregnant, I was worried about choosing a name for our baby. There's so many to choose from and we're not known for our quick and determined decisions. However, as we were leaving our ultrasound appointment after having just learned we were having a boy, Wade asked "how about Joshua?" The name was perfect, and so it stuck.

At the end of March 2005, the doctor said I could potentially go at any time. I worked an evening shift in Salt Lake and would drive home at 10:30, 11:00 at night. I was scared that something was going to happen on my way home from work, so I quit the first week of April even though Josh wasn't due until April 28. I had a lot of down time on my hands. I slept late, took long baths, read, played computer games. Watched a lot of tv. I was bored out of my mind, coupled with the anxiety of not knowing if today was going to be the day.

I went in for my weekly check-up the Wednesday before Josh was born. I was bored, fat, and done being pregnant. When the doctor exclaimed, for the 3rd week in a row, that she was so surprised that I was still here, I wanted to smack her. I then broke down in tears when she announced that I had gained seven pounds that week. Is it even possible to gain 7 pounds in a week? A fifth of my total weight gain occurred in that last week alone. She said it was all baby weight (yeah, like I was having a 13 pound kid).

After the appointment, I met Wade for lunch. He told me I didn't look that fat. That made me cry harder. Then I can remember sitting on my mom's bed and crying because I was done being pregnant. That was when I knew it could be any day now.

On that Sunday afternoon, I made Wade march me around the neighborhood. I told him I was not going in until this baby was ready to come out. We walked about 2 miles. Then I gave up. However, that night, I went into labor, not really recognizing it until I was nearly 6 minutes apart. It was all back labor and so I thought I was just having back pain until I started timing the spasms and noticed they were on a schedule.

We went off to the hospital where my (doctor: I'm estimating your baby is going to be about 7 pounds) 8 pound 11 oz baby boy was born. The first thing the doctor said was "look at those hands!" And she was right. He had some huge hands for such a little guy. And the most perfectly round head with a 1/2 inch yarmulke-looking bruise on the back from the vacuum that was used to get him out.

Josh was the sweetest baby. He slept through the night at six weeks. He ate really good, often going 3 or 4 hours between feedings. He liked his car seat. He wasn't particular about being held so I would just set him up so he could see what I was doing. Often times, he preferred to be away from the bustle and noise, so at friends houses we'd just lay him out on a blanket in another room and he'd coo and play in there.

Then he turned 18 months. And the kid was a terror. The next year was a nightmare. His stubborn personality shone bright. He was slow to talk so we were both frustrated with the lack of communication. He spent some time in day care while I finished school and he learned a lot of bad habits like biting, scratching, and hitting. Church was a disaster every week. He wouldn't eat. He wouldn't go to bed. He whined and hit and bit and threw fits in the store.

He seemed to mellow down by the time he turned 2 1/2--either that or I grew exponentially in patience. He still has his moments, but his verbal skills are much better so we can understand what he wants and he can understand why we say no.

Josh has always been a careful kid. He's not prone to ride out in the street into oncoming traffic. He's afraid of things that move or bark or stare. If it's just us in the store, he stays right with us. He's definitely a follower, so if there's a bigger kid who's prone to running off, Josh will too. But he obeys pretty well.

He forgives very easily. If I lose my temper, I know that in a few minutes, he'll come up and give me hugs. He never seems to hold my short temper against me. I think he understands that he's pushing my buttons.

My favorite thing he says is in the morning when he wakes up. He'll be fast asleep and the next minute I look over to find him standing by me. When he knows I've seen him he yells "good morning". It's the cutest thing. He's wide awake and rearing to go.

Josh is really good at entertaining himself. He could play with his cars for hours. The other day, when visiting my grandma's elderly neighbors, he played with a container of cars for 2 hours. Didn't whine or anything. Just let us adults talk. When it's just me and him at home, he'll play by himself as well. I can hear him pretending to be the different cars. "You can't go there, okay?" "Okay." And he likes to pretend that other friends are over there for lunch. He divides his lunch up and gives it to his "friends".

Josh has really been a blessing in our lives and it's hard to imagine life without him. Happy Birthday Josh!

Last Day of Bowling

It was our last day of bowling for the season. I have dramatically improved over the last 8 months. Before, I rarely got over 100, now I hardly get below. It's a small step, but a step indeed.

They gave out prizes today. And money. That was a nice added bonus. My team got $15 each for coming in second place. We also got a trophy. It's been years since I've gotten a trophy. I think I'll add it to my collection of running accolades. I have a few medals from age categories--but don't think that I deserved them. I got them out of default. Either not enough people from my age category signed up or I beat the last one or two to get third place. In either case, they are all mine.

Another surprise was that I got the third highest scratch game in the league. That means that I hit the third highest number of pins in one game over the course of the entire season. I got another $10 for that.

I'm kind of glad that the season is over for a couple months. It was awkward with our team imploding around our ankles. Next season, I'm the activity chairperson, whatever that means. I'm in charge of birthdays and parties and all that jazz. And I've recruited a new group of women to play. Maybe we can stay on each other's good sides. It will be nice to make some new friends in the process.

Bowling has definitely been the highlight of each week. For $8.50, I get to bowl three games and talk with adults. Included in the price is day care. And that's a very nice thing. I'd pay $8.50 just to have someone watch Josh for a few hours once a week so I could just chat with adults. The bowling is a bonus.

The Best Neighbors

Yesterday, I spent the day with my mom. We had a plethera of errands to run and she just had shoulder surgery so I was her chauffeur. One of our errands was to visit the neighbors of my grandma (grandma has been gone for 4 1/2 years and before that lived in a rest home for 7 years, but these are the neighbors that have lived across the street from her old house for 40 years.) My mom has become good friends with Tom and Flora. Tom is 82 and Flora is a few years younger, maybe 76 or so. They might be the best neighbors I've ever seen.

Tom and Flora immigrated from Holland via Austraila about 45 years ago. They have never lost their dutch accents. I don't know if they speak their native language at home or not, but both tongues are still very much dutch. I can catch about 90% of what Tom says immediately. My mind takes a few extra seconds to decode the rest. There's a small percentage that I never really get, but I just nod and pretend that I do. It's easier that way.

I'm not sure what religion they belong to--it's not mormonism--but they seem to know a lot about the culture. They don't necessarily agree with mormonism, but they're careful not to put it down either. Every once in a while, they'll make comments reflecting the neighborhood being caught up in their religion and not seeing the goodness of "nonbelievers". It's a shame because they really are the best people I've met in a long time.

Every time I go to visit, which is not often, I learn something new and totally unexpected. For example, yesterday Flora was telling us about how they sailed over to San Francisco from Australia and it took them 28 days. They had an 8 year old and a 2 year old and Flora was so sea sick the entire time she wanted to die. So was the two year old. That's the last time they sailed recreationally. Neither one of them has ever wanted to do a cruise since that voyage. I can't blame them. I can imagine that 28 days on a boat would be a long time. Especially with a two year old--sick or not.

No subject is taboo in Tom and Flora's house. We've talked about most everything from religion and politics to sex and abortion. It's nice to meet people who aren't afraid to voice their opinions and don't put you down for yours. They are the nosey ones in the neighborhood and can tell you about every person living nearby, but not in a bad way. Most of the neighbors adore them and will come over to chat on a whim. Much of their afternoons are spent looking out the window, keeping tabs.

Whenever you visit, you can guarantee you'll eat. They will push food on you until your seams feel like they're going to explode. Yesterday, we ate a strawberry dessert and some pound cake. I instantly regretted the extra fries I ate at lunch because my belly was about to explode from the food. I have learned not to turn down their food. They take offense to it. My mom learned not to eat so much. They don't let you live it down.

Tom shamelessly flirts with every middle-aged, and beyond, woman. It's all in good fun though. His nurse called while we were there and he invited her out to lunch after his appointment. You could hear her laughing through the phone. You know this is a regular offer.

I wish I could transplant Tom and Flora out here. No disrespect to my current neighbors, but I'd love for them to live next door or across the street. Even a street away would be okay. Entire afternoons could be lost inside their world and I'd be wiser for doing it.

They started out as my grandma's neighbors. Then they became her friends. Then they became my mom's friends. Now, it looks as though the baton is being passed to me. They could certainly outlive us all and each generation will take their turn watching over Tom and Flora.