The Life and Times of My Asshole Cats

Well, that is often what I feel I should change the title of my blog to, The Life and Times of My Asshole Cats.  One minute they are snugly, fluffy, little balls of love, and then BAM!  assholes.

Let me elaborate with a story, the story of the missing corn cob.

I had been traveling and found a road side stand that sold corn on the cob - success!!  I brought said corn home, and put it on the counter in the kitchen. I went about my merry way (or probably somewhere to do laundry), and when I came back into the kitchen I saw this:

Evidence Photo Number One.  Corn kernels all over my carpet.

               Evidence Photo Number Two.  Corn husks with kitty scratches.

No corn cob has yet to be found, and I have looked everywhere.  I suspect the dog was also in on this little ruse, but she seemed to be napping in her bed while the other two, well they looked like this:

Pretty guilty don't you think??  I am fairly certain that they aren't even sorry.  Assholes.

City of Trees Marathon. A Full 26.2



Thanks photographer Teresa for capturing my new pose.



If you are wanting to run a full or half marathon that is beautiful, well supported, and not very chaotic - have I got the race for you!!  The City of Trees Marathon was wonderful!!! From the people, to the scenery, to the race, to the support - there was nothing lacking.  Nothing at all.

The day before the race I went to pick up my number.  Lucky number 3.  I've never been such a low number before, those are usually reserved for the elite runners, but in Boise - you too, can be a low number and rock the single digits.  Go me!!

I had researched the course and knew that there would be roughly 550 feet of elevation gain.  That scared me a little.  I hate hills.  hate!!  I am not bad at them, but they give me heart palpitations, and make me super nervous.  The hills on this course didn't stand in my way at all!!  In fact, all the hills were in the first seven miles, and as I crossed the halfway mark (clocking in at my fastest half ever) I celebrated those hills.



Jazz Hands for Everybody!!!



The second half of the marathon was brutal.  I seem to forget that at around 19 miles your body decides to scream at you.  STOP. STOP RIGHT NOW.  QUIT RUNNING. THIS IS DUUUUUMB.  WALK YOU BASTARD. WAAAAAAAALK!!!!!!  I had found out that morning that my uncle had passed away, and while we weren't close - I still mourned the loss and it hit me incredibly hard at mile 19.  It took me a couple minutes to get my shit back together, and I never was able to recover fully - from that point forward everything made me teary.

The four year old passing out water, and yelling "go, runner, go" - teary.

Passing the woman that looked like a *runner* and that she should kick my ass - teary.

The golfers that wouldn't get out of the way, that made me run extra hard around them - teary.

Running through the chutes, and having perfect strangers (who owed me nothing) cheering, and yelling, and ringing their bells - teary. 
Crossing the finish line and having Teresa there, cheering me on, giving me hugs, and taking photos - teary.

I love this sport so much.  I love that these races are so pure and full of excitement for everyone.  How (and I realize there can be rivalries) it's basically you against yourself.  There are no judges to win over, no refs to make mistakes, no competitors who feel robbed by bad decisions.  It is just you, and your shoes, and a clock that keeps ticking, and high fives from people you'll never meet again, and cheers from the families of others, and sweaty hugs from your own personal cheerleader. 

I'd like to thank the academy.

I would encourage every person I know to at least walk a 5K and experience this.  To know that people, all people, are wishing you the very best - and are willing to yell "looking good" even when you know you look like death.  I think I need to volunteer at one of these races!!

That is why I smile all race long.  Because it feels like the world is rooting for you, and for that one moment: they are.

To Teresa and Pete, my people, thank you!!  Your cheers meant the world to me.  And Teresa, I'll keep the "Go, Farmer, Go" shirt for eternity. 

Out of 26 ladies in my age group, I came in 8th.

Out of 86 ladies overall, I came in 26th.

Much love to everyone.  Next full you ask???  Avenue of the Giants 05/05/13.

But before that - an 18 miler in Sacramento - 02/02.

2 Years and Counting.

Two years and one month to be correct.

That is how long I've been running.  That's it.  Before that - I was just your average person that was too busy to workout, too uncoordinated to go to classes, too uninterested to play sports. I wasn't athletic, I was small, but not athletic.  (don't believe me - ask anyone I went to high school with)

I think that is why it is truly hard to believe.  I have finished two marathons, and only been at this two years.  Which brings me to my next point - if I can do it, anyone can do it.  Endurance sports, while training is important for obvious reasons, is all about the strength of your mind and the fullness of your heart.  You have to *will* your body to do things it is screaming, begging, for you to stop.  You must reach the point of exhaustion, and go further.  You have to explore parts of your inner workings you may not be able to handle, and you know what - you survive.

Two years, one month, two fulls, three halves, one 15K, three 10Ks, four 5Ks, and two relays.

... and to the academy...

and all the people who have supported me, texted/emailed/facebooked/called with words of encouragement, who taught me new tricks, who showed up and cheered me on, who sent good thoughts my way, who shook their heads in "dear God what is this girl up to" disbelief and cheered when I crossed the finish line, who met me with sweaty hugs, yes all you people (and you know who each and every one of you are) - you ride on my shoulders, keep me going, and make my heart sing.

I have new chapters to write; new goals to accomplish; new paths to cross and people to meet; new hardware to add to the drawer of accomplishments, new irritations and frustrations to endure; new PRs to smash - and I can't wait to get started.

Anyone else want to join???? 

Runner, or Not??

Yes, I know.  I will still recap the marathon, but I needed to post this first.

Before I ran the second marathon I was having a huge identity crisis.  Am I actually a runner?  When do I get to say I'm a runner?  How do I know when I get to call myself that?  Is there a committee that decides?  What if I say I'm a runner then someone says I'm not???  Are all people who run, runners?  Is there a super secret, Harry Potter like, owl that lets me know??

I found this, and everything cleared right on up for me:

I AM A RUNNER

I AM A RUNNER because my runs have names. I do tempo runs and threshold runs and fartlek runs. I do long, slow runs and track workouts. My runs are defined, even if my abs are not.

I AM A RUNNER because my shoes are training equipment, not a fashion statement. The best shoe for me is the one that makes me a better runner. I choose the shoe that goes with my running mechanics, not my running outfit.

I AM A RUNNER because I don't have running outfits. I have technical shirts and shorts and socks. I have apparel that enhances the experience of running by allowing me to run comfortably. I can say "Coolmax" and "Gore-Tex" in the same sentence and know which does what.

I AM A RUNNER because I know what effort feels like, and I embrace it. I know when I'm pushing the limits of my comfort and why I'm doing it. I know that heavy breathing and an accelerated heart rate--things I once avoided--are necessary if I want to be a better runner.

I AM A RUNNER because I value and respect my body. It will whisper to me when I've done too much. And if I choose to listen to that whisper, my body won't have to scream in pain later on.

I AM A RUNNER because I am willing to lay it all on the line. I know that every finish line has the potential to lift my spirits to new highs or devastate me, yet I line up anyway.

I AM A RUNNER because I know that despite my best efforts, I will always want more from myself. I will always want to know my limits so that I can exceed them.

I AM A RUNNER because I run. Not because I run fast. Not because I run far.

I AM A RUNNER because I say I am. And no one can tell me I'm not.

- John Bingham

... and that, ladies and gents, has answered all my questions.  I am a runner, and I run.

lace up, double knots, high fives - on our way!!

Gender Differences in the Farmer House.

We are in the middle of watching all the episodes of Breaking Bad.  So far, so good.

Yesterday, I was incredibly sore (I'll get to the marathon adventure in another post).  It was especially hard to sit down, and then after sitting get back up.

I was sitting, and decided I needed popcorn.  So, I attempt to get up and before I do utter, "5-6-7-8" and get up.

Shiloh was dumbfounded and said, "wait, you count up??  Aren't you supposed to count down, like 3-2-1." 

I was equally as dumbfounded, and muttered "obviously you have never taken dance!"

He has not taken dance, and because I am not about to blast off will continue the up count.  Perhaps, I am the only one that does this - it wouldn't be the first time.  However, I would like to think there is a group of us girls that will forever begin with 5-6-7-8.

... for all the ladies!!

... and on Sunday - I'll dance.

BARF!!!  It's coming fast and furious.  I'm leaving for Boise today, to-day.  (seconds after I post this).

Marathon.  It is such a crazy word, for people who do crazy things.  Uh, I watched a Honey Boo-Boo marathon and I am ti-red (neckonize)!!

I'm not watching a TV show, or working long hours, or shopping long hours - or doing any of that.  I am merely running 26.2 miles.  Miles that will allow me to bask in all of the glory of my training, and laugh at all the lessons I've learned the hard way, and high five strangers, and shed tears of joy, and have perfect strangers cheer for me.  I LOVE this process, and it is a process.

I know what I've done.   I know what this is going to feel like (this isn't my first rodeo).  I know that ANYTHING can happen in 26.2 miles.  And I know that I have worked my ass off for the past year, and now,  now it is time to DANCE!!!

See you at the starting line.  Muah!!!

Whoops

This happens all the time really.  (okay, not really, not to hardly anyone)

But our internet has been sucking lately.  It starts, stops, kicks you off, starts, blahblahblah. 

So, my blogging has come to an abrupt hault.  BUT Mr. Internet Fix It Dude (official title), was here yesterday, and all seems to be working better.  So, hooray!!

I'll be back, oh yes, I'll be back. 

Oh, I have so much to tell you!!  I'll get right on it (but first, some carbs!)