The down side.

The first year of the twins life I sat around blogging, watching You Tube videos and eating frozen burritos. Naturally, I gained 25lbs on top of the 20lbs I should have lost before getting pregnant with the twins. I was just thinking of losing the weight when I luckily got pregnant (and I mean luckily). When I was in my second trimester I decided after seeing some very poor shots of my pregnant self, to cut back from four slices of toast for breakfast to only two. In my ninth month, I took up walking two to three days a week in the hopes of bringing Sean on naturally.

I spent a lot of my pregnancy with Sean contemplating weight loss, exercise and my love of food. I want to eat, drink and be merry. Unfortunately, all the weight gain was causing me to be less than merry. However, I was ready and seemingly more determined after Sean's arrival. I set many weight loss goals for myself and hoped that my small 5' 2" frame would one day see the 120s on the scale again.

It took several long months, a lot of running and even less bread, but I took the weight off. I even took off more weight than I had planned. My clothes started to get truly baggy and everyone was commenting on my weight loss. It made me feel good, at first.

Then I upped my running goals and threw in a half marathon to the list of races to tackle this year. I finally managed a few 20 plus running weeks and I lost a few more pounds. I am happy with my new body, for the first time in well maybe forever I am happy with this strong body that can run 13 miles and bear three children. I'm proud of this body (OK, maybe not the stomach but everything else, really).

However, lately more and more people have been making jokes or other unnecessary comments about my weight. (Several people apparently think the "be careful, soon we won't be able to see you when you turn sideways" comment is funny. It isn't.) I have been told I look 'gaunt'. I have been told that I have lost weight when I haven't lost any weight. It was starting to get annoying.

Then I went and got the worst case of strep throat I have ever even heard about. My throat swelled so badly I couldn't eat or drink. I went to the doctor and got an antibiotic. Then my throat got worse and I couldn't even swallow my own saliva or the horse pills the doctor had prescribed. I was dehydrated and my milk was drying up. I went back to the doctor pleading on paper because I couldn't talk. They gave me several shots in my derrière and finally, six hours after the anti-inflammatory shot I was able to swallow some water. Unfortunately, being sick cost me four pounds. Four pounds I really didn't want to lose. The comments began to rush in.

So I ate. And I ate. Six powdered donuts for breakfast, a whole pizza for lunch, then another lunch two hours later of Macaroni and Cheese followed by a whole can of green beans and chocolate chip cookies. I ate around the clock, at midnight and 5 a.m. I ate all the foods that I had strayed from since having Sean because I know they are not the best foods for me. I ate and ate and yet people still made comments about my weight.

At this point, I have gained back the four pounds I lost plus one more for good measure. But I am starting to get annoyed. My BMI is in the healthy range and I am already eating somewhere around 4,000 calories a day. I've thought about it a lot this week because the comments are beginning to truly bug me. Am I supposed to feel bad for finally losing the weight? I feel as though I am eating more than I should be and eating even more of the wrong foods to try and avoid the ridicule or speculation that I'm not eating enough. My mother-in-law's boyfriend commented the other day that I have no bottom and am too thin, Todd comments that I eat enough for three people. I truly feel like screaming "leave me alone" at the top of my lungs like a moody teenager and slamming the door to my bedroom.

For the first time in my life I was managing a healthy lifestyle. Running and cycling four days a week, more whole grains and leafy vegetables, less powdered donuts and cherry coke. And I thought it was working. Now, however, I don't know how to handle my detractors. Are they really worried about my weight or are they a little jealous? A few months ago all of my friends kept telling me I must have a thyroid problem because of my weight loss. When my hormone levels came back far more normal for me than usual, I gathered a sense of disappointment from a few of them.

I'm not really sure what I'm going to do but I do know that if another person says "Go ahead, have another slice of Cheesecake, you look like you need it" I don't think I should be held responsible for what I may do.

However, if it's Heavenly Chocolate Cake I'll probably just sneer and have another helping.

Where I Stand

I spent lunch time today eating things covered in powdered sugar (donuts and banana cake for the most part, but I also tried a Chocolate Chip Cookie that way, I think I may need counseling) and analyzing my 5k race times. It's the sort of thing the obsessed and deranged do. But I saw a pattern of improvement emerging.

Here are my times for the nine 5k's I've done since I began running (now almost 8 months ago can you believe it?) :

32:23

29:48

29:59

25:15

27:50

26:44

39:08

27:18

25:02

If you take away the Girl's On The Run Race that I do not believe was a real 5k (how else can you explain my 25:15 time?) and the two trail runs I did in February you see this list of numbers:

32:23

29:48

29:59

27:50

26:44

25:02

When I look at it like that, I see a marked improvement on my 5k street races over the past six months (the first was run in October). You see, I spend alot of time looking at numbers. ALOT of time, time I don't even have. I study my numbers, I study other people's numbers, I cross reference years of races in my age division and then study those numbers.

I see it now. I could never run for exercise. I just don't care enough about weight or bulge to make any change to my lifestyle on those factors alone. But call it training, sign me up for a competitive event, and you will see a whole new side of me. I knew I was a little competitive, but at times I disgust even myself.

My wonderful husband lectures me on competing with myself, beating my own personal records and striving to do the best for myself. That's wonderful. I even understand what he's saying. However, I want to compete. I want to pass the person in front of me and I want to place. I am becoming increasingly competitive actually. To the point that if I don't think I am going to run very well, or didn't get decent training in, I don't even want to run.

Two weeks ago we had a big run. I had been looking forward to it ALL YEAR LONG. I cross referenced the numbers. I got a tummyache. I worried that I hadn't trained enough. I went out two days before the race and did my first ever true speedwork out. A slow mile. 4x400's with two minutes jogging in between. I calculated splits even. When on the last 400 I maintained a pace under 7 minutes, I threw my hands up in the air like I was an Olympic Gold Medalist. It was pathetic. But I was confident. I was ready to set a new PR.

And then I got sick. Really, really sick. The kind where you lose five pounds you really didn't want to lose so you go around the whole next week eating everything you can covered in sugar. The worst thing about getting sick. I didn't get to run in that race.

Lots of people I know would have swallowed their loss and moved on. I couldn't. I can't. I am still depressed that I didn't get to run that race. There is something about racing that makes me pick up the pace, makes me work myself harder. And then there were my rivals, a couple of girls who ran cross country in high school were running it (I also study entry lists, sick I know). I was looking forward to competing with them.

I have a theory about why this running hang-up. You see when I was younger I liked to run. Actually, what I really liked to do was sprint. I thought I was fast. I thought, with training and determination, I could be even faster. I thought about joining the track team. Or trying out anyways. I shared my dreams with my father and a few friends. All of them told me I couldn't do it. They told me that I couldn't just decide in high school to pick up running, that those people already on the track team had been running for too long and I could never catch up. The one I remember the most was my dad though, he told me that I couldn't do it and that he didn't even really think I would stick to it so basically, why bother. So instead of proving him wrong, I listened to him. I couldn't be a runner I decided, it was too late for me. I started instead, to tell myself I couldn't run. I told myself that for over the next ten years.

In the past six months I've learned a lot about myself. I've learned that I have a competitive streak sure, but I've also learned that I can endure a good bit of pain and discomfort. I've learned that I can commit to something and stick to it. I've learned that having something, especially as a parent, that is just a tad bit selfish, is good for your well being. I've learned that I can be a hard worker, that I am determined and stubborn. I've learned that it takes me two miles to get warmed up completely, and then I'm good for five to seven miles before I start getting physically exhausted. I am still learning, both about racing and about myself. I'm also learning about parenting. My father should never have told me I can't. He should have been my biggest cheerleader. He should have told me, even if he didn't believe it, that I could make it happen if I really wanted it.

I got sick and didn't run for ten days. I rested and napped when the kids napped. Yesterday Todd took me running and his mom watched our clan. Todd pushed me to run further than I had ever run, 13.5 miles. Today, I can barely walk, but I feel incredible. A year ago I told myself I couldn't run 200m, yesterday I ran further than a half marathon. I'm starting to tell myself that I CAN run a marathon. That I can endure. That I am strong.

Whether or not I'm crazy or fast, running is one of the best things to ever happen to me.

And to us. Todd has always loved running. Now it's something we can do together (even though I am still a bit slower than him and I can't quite tackle the distances he can). We can go to dinner with the kids, and we can watch movies at bedtime and talk on the phone at lunchtime. But going running together, stuck out there alone for hours at a time on the trail, I really think it's brought us even closer together.

He is after all the one person who has always, always said that I could run. I guess I just didn't want to believe him.

I guess one more time admitting he was right won't hurt me.

I'll Return To You

I know, I know. It's been like a month. But if you'll recall my last post was about having absolutely no time. I've even thought of giving up on the old blog, I just can't seem to give it up.

It's been a heck of a month. Or a little over. Sean had surgery. Sean did fine with surgery. Mom (me) surely suffered more than he. I had to organize, prepare and delivery several hundred dollars of baby gear for a local consignment sale. I made enough money to buy the kids spring clothes but have yet to find the time to do such frivolous activities. We went to Richmond and ran our first 10k. I did well. Better than I thought I would. Then I stopped running. Or so it feels. We've just been so busy. We threw a large Easter Egg Hunt Brunch with twenty toddlers and several hundred eggs. I ate coffee cake, quiche and casserole leftovers for days. The kids got to have Cadbury Eggs and Jelly Beans for the first time ever. We celebrated Easter with meals too large for even our families size. We went to the first ballgame of the season to see my nephew throw out the opening pitch. We went home, an hour later, disappointed by baseball players who won't play ball in the rain. Sean pulls himself into a sitting position and yet still refuses to open his mouth for solid foods, from apples to green beans he's just not that interested. We went to birthday parties with dirt cake and birthday parties where we were treated with convertibles and little ponies. We had dinners out and a few, if I might say, truly delicious meals in. We went to Target 47 times. The Walmart and Kroger 13 times. There was Romp 'N Roll and playgroups at churches. There was lunch and dinner at La Carreta, once in the same day even. There were trips to two children's museums. We took the twins hiking for the first time, even if it was only a mile. Then, well let's see, I got sick. That is another post.

I think that catches us up.

There is another thing. You know that movie Watchmen. Well when it came out I was probably the least interested person you could find, there were lots of conversations I overheard but didn't take part in and several magazine articles I turned the page on, but somehow it eventually ended up on our Netflix Queue and then in our mailbox. So we watched it. It began with this intro to which I looked over at Todd and said "I think this movie really wants me to love it already." But then can you go wrong with Dylan? If you haven't seen the movie and this intro doesn't move you, you probably won't like the movie but if it does and you have Netflix...

Watchmen :) Intro - Watch more Funny Videos

The one were I ponder where all of my time went.

A long time ago (2 years, 3 months and 12 days ago to be exact), I had entire empty days and nothing in which to fill them.  Those days would have been, could have been, great blogging days.  But alas, my first blog was created on the eve of Bailey and Cooper’s birth.  And then, BAM, motherhood arrived keeping me perpetually busy.

These days I often wonder to myself (usually one evening a month I find myself alone in the car and I actually get twenty minutes to actually THINK)-‘what in the hell did you do with your time before you had all of these kids’.

The answer?

Well, I watched T.V.  A lot of T.V. From C.S.I. to Big Love, House Hunters to Myth Busters.  If a station showed it I would watch it.  Hours upon hours.  If only I could get just a few of those hours back.

I searched the Internet.  Everyday I searched, in the days before my hcg levels began doubling, I searched for cures and treatments to infertility.  From Amazon to buy The Infertility Cure or A Few Good Eggs to places like IHR.com for Basal Body Thermometers and Ovulation Predictors (that was money well spent). Once pregnancy became me, it was baby names and stroller reviews, gender prediction quizzes and back to Amazon to order A Child Is Born.

I also ate.  Again, I did this a lot.  Even when I wasn’t hungry.  And I shopped.  Surprisingly more than I ate, I shopped.  I would drive some afternoons the twelve miles into the city just to walk the isles of the Baby Depot at Burlington or window shop Mother Goose.  I was obsessed.  And more than just a little depressed.  I would venture into town some days just to order a large Coke (not diet) and an even larger order of onion rings from Burger King.  I spent a lot of time with my Grandmother.  That may be the single thing I will never regret.  That time was never wasted.

I would stay home on occasion and having done the five or six loads of laundry for the week I would wash guest room bed linens when we hadn’t had guests.  I would actually fold underwear.  I would fill a bucket with water and work my way throughout the house scrubbing baseboards and wainscoting .  Or I would spend the morning dusting bookshelves and books, then organize them by genre, then size.

I read.  Boy, did I read.  Sometimes three of four books a week. I won’t go any further on that subject as that’s one of the only things I am still mourning the loss of as a parent of many young children.  But I didn’t just read novels and novellas.  I read magazines and junk mail. 

I may sound as though I am complaining.  I’m not.  I am trying to characterize that lonely life for you in which I used to live.  The one where sleep was uninterrupted, the floors were clean, and the rooms were quiet.  Too quiet.  I had to quell the silence with television and Rhapsody playing constantly, the unsettling silence was deafening.  That life was, if nothing else, boring.  There were no noses for me to wipe, there were no disputes over who was playing with the Fridge Phonics last, there was no screaming in the backseat, only Talking Heads.  If those days were empty because of waiting for the children I longed for, these days are filled to the brim with activities in which to fuel their toddler brains or to keep my sanity. 

I was not right with myself for a very long time.  Even, to be honest, after the twins were born, I was still in some ways, struggling with depression.  But in these past few months, as the days have become busier and busier, I have smiled more, frowned less.  I am for the first time in a long time, if not ever, at home in my life.  I am satiated with this nuclear family of mine.  When Cooper wakes up from nap and looks at me with those eyes for which I’ve no name for the color and says “Mommy, I was tired.” I think, ‘me too, buddy, what took you so long.”

The one where I lose a watch, but win a medal.

This weekend was our second official race of the 2010 season.  This race, another trail run, was held in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the trails of the beautiful scenic Explore Park in Roanoke, Virginia.  The recent history of the park, and its limbo status, were enough to have my interests peaked in this race however I was a little worried after the Liberty mountain trail run how efficiently I could tackle another snowy trail.

Fortunately, the weather has been a tad bit warmer in these parts the last two weeks (40s and even some 50 degree days) and the trails were about 99% clear.  I had done some extensive result studying where I tracked the overall results of the Mountain Junkies Explore Your Limits last five races in my age group and decided that if I could muster up the strength and energy to finish in under 33 minutes I might just place in my age group.  The week prior to the race I had the best intentions to get a few runs of at least 5k distance in.  I got one.  On race morning, as on every race morning before, I was incredibly nervous and completely unsure of myself.    There seemed to be a lot of runners at the race who appeared to be in my age group and I was convinced I wouldn’t be able to finish the race in the time I had allotted myself and that I wouldn’t place. 

On the starting line Todd and I decided we would run together for the first mile with the hopes of him pacing himself better so he didn’t go out to fast and with the hopes of increasing the pace at which I began the race.  I always start races slow, it has something to do with that story of the Tortoise and the Hare I think.  “Slow and steady” wins the race (I literally repeated that mantra to myself at the Liberty Mountain run).  When the race began I held up with Todd for about two minutes.  He however, couldn’t bear my 8 minute mile pace and I was soon just a memory for him.  I did my best however to run fast enough to finish with a respectable time but so as not to bonk.  I was doing well until I reached the bottom of the first real hill.  The hill slowed me down so much that when I took a look at my Garmin I was convinced I wouldn’t finish in under 34 minutes.  My mind was apparently a little exhausted though because I wasn’t figuring my pace accurately and before I knew it I was at the top of the hill and then the next one and then before long I heard a volunteer shout ‘only 200 more yards’ at which point I switched into sprint mode, past the 41 year old man whom I had been pacing with for about a mile, and sprinted to the finish.  My time: 27:18.  I was ecstatic.  But not convinced that I had indeed placed. 

Within minutes the rest of our team had finished and we were all downing water and Gatorade.  We moved ourselves inside to partake in the famous Mountain Junkies Pumpkin Bread (which was delicious) as well as bagels, bananas and cookies.  Man, I love the free food that accompanies a great race.  We ate our food as they tallied the race results and handed out door prizes (Jordan, who is the luckiest person we know, won a door prize yet again).  And then it was time for awards. 

I am pleased beyond measure that I can claim second place in my age group for Saturday’s race, especially since after the official race results were posted I learned that I did indeed run in the largest age group (there were 16 in my age group, all other groups peaked at about 5 or 6 runners).  And I am just as pleased to tell you that East Coast Madness came home with four medals, three second place awards and one for third (yeah! Go Tyler!). 

I am not as pleased to tell you about what happened when I got home.  My watch, my most handy Garmin Forerunner, that I got as a Christmas gift from Todd and have yet to be able to really test all of it’s features, didn’t make the trip home with us.  I tore the house and car apart looking for it Saturday afternoon before emailing the race director with my lost watch woes.  Turns out someone had indeed come across my watch (which I had removed in the women’s bathroom when I went to pump) and turned it in.  My watch is now waiting for me in Salem, Virginia.  Not as close to home as I would like, but far better than it being lost to me forever.

Overall, it was an awesome race.  A huge thank you to Mountain Junkies for their ability to put on one amazing race!

I am looking forward to warmer weather (it’s 61 today), training outdoors (we got in over 15 miles this weekend) and seeing more marked improvement on my times.

Safer of just plain lazier?

I was perusing Facebook this morning, which I will admit I do quite frequently, when I came across a status having to do with the apparent redesigning of the hot dog.

That's right, the hot dog, around in some form since the fifteenth century, may be getting a new look due to it's status as a common choking hazard. Now don't get me wrong I know that hot dogs can be dangerous. The only person I have ever seen choking was in fact choking on a hot dog. My brother's toddler lips turned blue before my mom successful unlodged the hot dog from his throat and it's a scene that has always remained in the forefront of my mind when preparing them (the vegetarian version anyways) for my own children. But really this proposed redesign has me thinking only one thing: Will this change make our kids safer or just us parents lazier?

Will selling hot dogs in the shape of dinosaurs or smiley faces make them safer for our children? Perhaps, but what is so wrong with the slice and dice method that parents have been using for ages? And besides there will still be foods that pose choking hazards, which truly can be any food, but what about grapes, nuts and popcorn? Is it only because hot dogs can be altered that the suggestion is being made? And while you're at it APA, why not try suggesting they be made a tad bit healthier? I mean nitrates? The childhood cancer link?

Overall, my biggest problem lies in the fact that a lot of these suggestions made by the American Association of Pediatrics wouldn't even need to be made if parents were more on the ball with their children. I know the American Association of Pediatrics is only trying to inform parents in the hopes of keeping them safe. It seems to me that parents, myself included, are the ones who need to be making changes, not Oscar Meyer.

But alas, if made some people will buy the sliced and diced hot dogs, Oscar Meyer will make more money (because they're bound to charge more for that convenience) and some children, unfortunately, will continue to choke on hot dogs.

Damn that glass looks half empty.

Snack time

Snowy days and Wednesdays

I am just so done with all of this snow, ice, sleet and slush.  Done.  Do you hear me Mother Nature?  D-o-n-e.

I understand that we live in a part of the country that gets four definite seasons.  I am generally good with this, I like to watch the seasons change and it’s nice to have a few cooler months following the warm and humid summer months.  But this winter has just been ridiculous.  I don’t recall seeing any giant acorns lying about but so far this winter we have seen more accumulation in these parts then in any previous winter in my lifetime. 

The weathermen used to cry wolf, threatening us weekly with flurries that never came to fruition.  Now they are always right.  They call for snow and we get it.  Lots of it.  We have had snow covering the ground since December.  December.  That never happens. 

Today’s forecast?  Flurries.  And we’ll probably see some.  And then they’re calling for more snow next week.  In the past I loved getting a good snow once or twice a year.  But then it would warm up a little and melt.  It’s been a record breaking cold winter and the snow is hanging around.  Having everything around us covered in snow, a lot of it grey and black tinged, it’s effect has worn off.  I’m just plain sick of it all.

And if I could get my hands on that little punk Punxsutawney Phil, I’d tell him what I thought of six more weeks of this stuff.  I mean come on, get over your shadow already.

http://bit.ly/iamabitcrazyyaknow

I am having a hard time making it downstairs to the treadmill.  It’s not the distance in feet or the stairs that are making it difficult to get to the treadmill either.  I still handle stairs alright at this age, it’s everything else.  Like the cute little bugger to the side there and his little siblings. 

Today Adobe Photoshop Lightroom arrived in the mail and I am just itching to tear into it.  I had Lightroom before I lost it in the fire when the old Toshiba died last summer but this version was shipped to me directly from Adobe if you catch my drift.  Just another thing to keep me off target and away from the basement.

My hair is still falling out but I’m feeling a little better about it.  First, I talked to a girlfriend who had a baby three weeks after me and she said that her hair is falling out in fistfuls too.  Secondly, I went in for some blood work two weeks ago to have some things checked like my blood count, testosterone and thyroid.  My doctor called me today to tell me that everything looks ‘quite good’ and I appear to be quite healthy.  Even my PCOS seems to be in remission.  I’ve heard having a baby or babies can do that to you.  And lastly, my dear old husband is going bald and I still love him so I’m hoping that if I am indeed going bald he will at least still love me and perhaps even hold  my hand and kiss  me gently when we go wig shopping.

That is if he doesn’t run away with Twittergirl anytime soon. 

Do you ever have those dreams where your significant other runs off with a nameless faceless beauty? I was lucky enough to have one of those dreams just the other day.  I can’t recall much of the dream but boy did I wake up angry.  Unfortunately, Todd was still home and I was feeling like I had slept on a board and my mood was perhaps showing that when I told him about his ruthlessness in my dream.  He just looked at me and smiled, “You’re angry with me aren’t you?”

Well, wouldn’t you be if your husband brought Twittergirl home to live with you?  Twittergirl, the nerve of some people and their usernames.  Imagine if I called myself Blogspotgirl or Flirkrgirl.  Wouldn’t that just annoy you?  Especially if I moved in with you and your mate.  You are feeling me on this one, right?

I’m thinking that perhaps I watch too much Big Love.

Or that I’ve been spending was too much time lately trying to be witty and catching in 140 characters or less.

Either way I haven’t been finding my way to the treadmill, that’s for sure.

Giving up is too decisive for me.

Last week was a good week.  Despite a lot of snow that we in these parts are just not accustomed to, I actually ran over 17 miles.  That’s right, first week all year to actually reach my goal of 15 miles.  I felt so good about it that this week I’ve run two miles.  I’m sort of like a roller coaster, I know. 

Despite my pathetic totals for the week I did go ahead and register for my first real race of the season.  A 5k trail race held by Liberty University next Saturday morning.  We even have a babysitter lined up ahead of time.  Of course, we still have snow everywhere and they are already calling for more so the race will probably get cancelled but I am going to hold on hope for just a little longer.  The true beginning of the race season, which begins full force the beginning of March, does have me excited.  I knew the winter would be hard but we haven’t had snow like this…well not since before I was born, and this winter and all the snow has been constantly testing everything I worked so hard for last fall.  But I think despite all the draw backs I’m getting better.  I did only two  miles last night but they were sprint intervals at which I was running about 8% faster than my 5k pace on the treadmill which should amount to even more on the actually road because I always find that I run faster on the actual road than on the treadmill. 

I have been baking a lot.  I just love it, you could even say I’ve become addicted to it.  I make the kids something from scratch almost every morning nowadays.  They had cereal for the first time in over ten days this morning and that’s because we were running behind, because I have Buttermilk Pancake batter just sitting in the fridge ready to go.  I have also been submitting my work to a trendy food site.  And being constantly rejected.  It is really bruising my ego.  And has made me start to really criticize my food photography and realize a lot of my photos are crap.  I also wish I still had Adobe Lightroom, it was so awesome. So I’ve been researching technique and  new recipes.  This weekend I am going to try my first scones ever and perhaps some Beignets.  I am also going to attempt a Valentine Cake for my sweeties. And of course take four hundred photos.  And resubmit to snobby but very trendy food site. And then, because they’re bound to reject me, resubmit again.  I. Must. Get. Accepted. 

Ten Years.

This year I celebrate ten years since I graduated from high school.  As things go, that means that it is time to celebrate with our first class reunion.  When I was still close with a few friends from high school I figured it was a done deal, I would definitely be going to the reunion.  However a few things have changed in the last year and lately I haven’t been so sure.

Despite being friends with 50 or so people I went to high school with via Facebook, I am not really in contact with anyone from that time in my life anymore.  It’s somewhat sad but I seem to have lost contact with all of my friends from high school.  Sure we occasionally say hello to one another on a social network or chat in passing at Target but it’s more like acquaintances than friends nowadays.  I am now surrounded with friends whose children are the same age as my own.  I think that’s pretty typical, but I wonder what will happen to those bonds when our children get old enough to make their own friends.

So I wasn’t so sure I was even going to be attending any reunion when I got invited, via Facebook of course, to join a Facebook group entirely dedicated to my graduating class’ reunion.  A week or so later I even got a personal message on Facebook asking whether or not I was planning on attending whatever event is chosen.  The note moved me, that someone actually gave a hoot whether or not I would be attending the reunion kind of made my cold heart soften, just a tad of course.  Then yesterday I noticed that I had been tagged in a picture on the group wall.  The picture is from Ring Dance, junior year.  I’m wearing that cheap velour dress I bought from Value City.  My mother’s friend had tried for over half an hour to do something with my dense coarse hair (ah, when I had a full head of hair, those were the days).  My girlfriend and I went to the dance together.  She didn’t have a date and I was hopelessly in love with a guy who had moved across the country to live with his family, so I didn’t have a date either.  We rode to the dance in my little ‘89 Pontiac Sunbird with the ewok, Wicket, hanging from the rearview mirror and probably Dramarama playing on the cassette player.  That picture really seems to have shaken something in me.

It’s not that I have decided to attend the reunion, they have after all, joked about having it at Putt-Putt.  And it isn’t even that I am nostalgic for old times or old friends, even though there are honestly a few I do miss or would like to see.  Honestly, it just made me feel old.  And not ten years older.  Like twenty, maybe even twenty five.  I honestly don’t even recognize the girl in the picture.  I went and looked in the mirror afterwards just to see if it was me. 

My face is clearer, that’s for sure.  My hair which is still falling out, is shorter with lots of gray.  My eyebrows were….oh let’s just say my mom used to affectionately tell me I looked like  Brooke Shields, but only in the eyebrows and only Brook Shields in the “Blue Lagoon” movie.  My sense of fashion in no keener.  But it isn’t just in the appearance that I look so different to myself, it’s the fact that I can almost feel the ten years difference when I look in that picture. 

They’ve picked a date for the reunion.  I don’t have a run or adventure race so far that weekend.  But babysitter’s aren’t always easy to come by and I’m pretty sure the only way they’re going to want your children to come are as 2x3 wallets.  It’s in October, so I have time to think about it. 

But it didn’t hit me, until I saw that picture, just how long ten years feels.

My little taste testers

This week I decided to make seven muffin recipes to try out over on my baking blog.  By the end of the week some of us won’t care if we ever see a muffin again.  But I have been ‘testing’ my recipes out to see whether or not they’re kid friendly.  The other day we were snowed in and I made two different muffins; Cinnamon Sugar muffins and Maple Muffins.  When they were all done I let Cooper do a little taste testing.  He had quite the time with it. 

He was thrilled to be chosen as number one taste tester.

 

He sampled the Cinnamon Sugar ones first.

He decided pretty quickly that he liked the Cinnamon Sugar ones over the maple ones.  I wasn’t a bit surprised.

Here he’s saying “Anytime, Mom.  Anytime.”

The next day I made Zucchini Chocolate Chip Muffins.  Bailey got to be number one taste tester that day (Cooper was still down for his nap).

She loved them.

 

She couldn’t stop singing their praises.

Take two.

Last week I ran a total of two miles.  That’s right.  Two.  My weekly goal of 15 miles is turning out to be a lot harder than I imagined.  Of course, I have a lot of excuses.  Last night I even wrote a long post about all of my excuses, you know, instead of running.  Then my computer froze up and I had to shut it down and my post, which had taken me the time to run perhaps three miles, was gone.

Today was the first of February (if by some chance you failed to notice) and I decided, after writing my winey little post last night, that I have to be more committed to training if I’m ever going to run 10k’s, half marathons and yes, eventually full marathons and ultras.  I just wish it were warmer outside and that I could hit the roads and trails more often.  It’s no secret by now, I just can’t seem to completely overcome my dislike for the treadmill.

The thing is I really love to run.  I love the action, I love how strong I feel during it and after it, I love the way my body looks from doing it, I love the pride and sense of accomplishment it gives me.  I love sprinting and pulling ahead.  I love running with others.  I love trail running.  I love my running shoes.  I love logging into runner’s world and entering in my most recent run.

Like tonight.  Over 5 and a half miles.  That’s a record for me running on the treadmill.  I figure it’s a new month and a new chance to reach those 15 mile a week goals. 

I love learning something new.

I am addicted to blogging.  It’s the plain and simple truth.  You have perhaps never known someone to create, work on, delete and ponder so many blogs and posts in your life.  I think there have been eight or nine blogs and several hundred posts.

No, I’m not kidding.  Thank you very much.  I have deleted all but four of them.  This one, the baking one, the running one and then the photo one for the family are all that remain of my blogging endeavors. 

So I love blogger and their free site.  I really do.  But I don’t particularly care for the blogger posting layout.  It’s just always annoyed me and I am always trying to change it and learn a thing or two about the grand ‘ole internet.  Well today I think I finally learned something. 

You see over at my baking site I have decided to bake up a whole weeks worth of muffins starting on Sunday.  And I wanted to tell my oh so many readers what I was working up…but I couldn’t figure it out.  I can’t write HTML code myself and I was just not getting the result I was looking for otherwise.  I grew very frustrated, drank a diet coke and ate four slices of oatmeal bread while pondering the question via google and burning my Friday evening away.

Until finally I learned about something called Microsoft Live Writer.  And I did the unthinkable.  I downloaded it, which I never ever ever do.  Download anything that is.  I’m honestly just plain scared to.  My computers get virus’ more often than any of my toddlers and that seems to be saying something.  But desperate and obsessed I proceeded with the download. 

Here it is, only two hours later and I am writing my first post on it.  Thus far I am loving it.  If nothing else it  allowed me to create a document in Word bring it over to Live Writer, get the source code and then post it, like I wanted to, in boxes elsewhere on my site.  Whew.  Just what I wanted.

I love learning. 

It’s why I went to college for seven years.

Truth be told.  It was only 5 1/2 years.

Title? Really? For every Post?

I was going to write and send thank you notes today for the twin’s birthday party that took place more than two weeks ago.

But the phone wouldn’t stop ringing and my concentration was broken over and over.

I was going to bake a Chocolate Cavity cake.

But I can't seem to get my bowl to be removed from the Kitchenaid stand. Seriously.

I was going to wash my hair.

But it's all just going to fall out anyways.

I was going to pay my taxes.

But I forgot that I am completely broke.

I was going to write a few posts.

But I am frustrated and sad and have no original ideas or thoughts that are my own.

I was going to run.

But sick kids make for poor sleepers and early risers, who cares if I'm fast anyways?

Oh, that's right. I do.

Why does butter have to be so bad for you?

I am doing, at least for me, rather well staying active this winter. Last night, for example, I went to a Zumba class at 7:30 and followed that by attempting to run a few quick miles through Wyndhurst, a local shopping and dining community that houses both Romp 'N Roll and the dance studio where the Zumba class is taught. I figured it would be safe enough to run there by myself at 8:30 p.m. on a Tuesday. But alas, I am a big fat scaredy cat and with recent news of a shooter in Appomattox, a short distance away, my nerves were a little rickety. Long story short, at one mile when a man approached me to ask where some local bar was, I called it quits. I then came home to ride 12.5 miles on the recumbent bike, all in all it was a good training day.

However on the other side I have let my eating get way out of hand. A few weeks ago I reached a total of 60 lbs lost since having Sean. I was thrilled but I began worrying that I might be losing too much weight. I still have a little stomach pouch but other than that I have thinned out considerably since having Sean. Something I attribute mostly to breastfeeding, diet coke over Cherry Coke and running. But I was worried that at my current weight loss, which has steadily been a pound a week now for three months I was going to get too thin. So what did I do? I let the reigns down and have been gobbling up everything in sight. Luckily I have only gained two pounds and that is even with devouring entire Banana cakes by myself.

But thinking about my food consumption for one day has me a little nervous that if I don't restrain myself I will be looking at a weight gain of more than 60 lbs in the not to distant future. Yesterday for example I ate four slices of banana bread for breakfast, three slices of pan pizza from Pizza Hut with two breaksticks, followed by a snack of more banana bread (I actually defrosted some of the frozen, that cake is irresistible), a small bag of M&M's, and some Cinnamon Goldfish. For dinner I had cornbread (that I will post about later) and black bean soup. I tried to not eat anything late last night but I just couldn't help it and ate more Cinnamon goldfish right before going to bed which I know is a serious faux pas.

So help me folks, I was doing so well last fall and I think it was because I had so much weight to lose. Now that I've reached my goal weight I am having a hard time setting and sticking to healthy eating perimeters. I know it's all ok now but I know how much I like food and am honestly worried that I won't be able to stop myself before returning to my old ways.

I was eating BLT's everyday, now I eat pizza. I was making quick breads with appleasauce and egg beaters, my banana cake had shortening (OH MY!) and sour cream. I was snacking on the likes of apples and chex mix. Now it's been brownies and more brownies. I am hoping that the realization yesterday of how bad my eating has become will allow me to regain control.

Several people have hinted to me that I could stand to gain a few pounds which is why I went crazy through Christmas and the New Year but I know that overall I have to be eating healthy and that is just what I've not been doing the last five weeks. So here is to saying NO to second helpings of Macaroni and Cheese and yes to more mixed vegetables.

I'm even working on a new mantra, wanna hear it?

Be strong and brave, Alexis. It's only food.

Hungry

First, let me just say that I am a bakeaholic and having a new baking blog is turning out to be very bad for what I was trying to get to be my new and improved eating habits. Now my eating habits consist of two cinnamon bagels followed by Double Chocolate Ghiradelli Cookies. I never thought of myself as much of a sweets fan until about four months ago but now I can't seem to control myself.

Our weekends are so busy that I can't even compile a complete to do list before Sunday night rolls around. We have had birthday parties the last three weekends and next weekend we have a baby shower to celebrate a new person for whom we'll have a party to attend next year. Not that I'm complaining, I like cake. But it does make getting to the grocery store and fitting in a decent training session even harder than before.

Fortunately, however, we were lucky enough to have Todd's mom help us out this weekend and yesterday she came over to spend the afternoon with the children and Todd and I went for a good long training session. We ran over 7 miles, four of them through icy trails and snowy paths from the snow that fell over a month ago, followed by 10 miles on our bikes. Todd got a bike for Christmas and hadn't gotten a chance to take it for a test drive. He wanted to go 15 miles but the trails were really icy and slowed us down a bit and we don't like to leave our children for too long. Overall it was a good day. It's nice to have a few people who will watch the three children so that we can get a good run in. The 7 miles yesterday really wore me out so I know I have a long ways to go before I'm ready for a half marathon.

It's the end of the week and I have failed yet again to reach my measly goal of 15 miles yet again. This upcoming week I think I may aim for less distance more often. I am having a hard time getting in a long run and so I'm just putting running off. I think going downstairs and getting on the treadmill whenever I get a chance may result in more miles overall. I may just take to wearing my workout clothes all day long.

But tonight I am in the mood to bake. Maybe a Banana 'N Cream Bundt Cake.

The craze that's sweeping the nation. Like a crimper but for your hips.

So apparently there is this aerobic fitness program that blends dance moves with resistance training and it has become so popular that there are 40,000 people teaching it in over 75 countries.

The program, which you may have heard of, is Zumba and one of those 40,000 people resides here in the city we live in and teaches a class twice a week at a local dance studio not even a block from Romp 'N Roll. One of Bailey and Cooper's friends mom was going to go for the free session last night and wanted to know if any of us other mom's wanted to give it a try. Naturally, I said 'why the heck not?'

Once upon a time I was into fitness. I wasn't very fit but I wanted to be a member of the local YMCA (one block over from the dance studio here in Mayberry), and there I got to try out classes for Pilates, Yoga, Cycling, and more often than anything else Aerobics. Now that I am running, biking and ever so occasionally lifting weights I thought it was a great time to add something else to the mix so I don't burn out on the other activities.

So last night after I overstuffed myself on Macaroni and Cheese and Rosemary Texas Rolls I got dressed and headed over to the small dance studio where the class is taught. There were six other females in the class as well as the instructor. I was seconds late so the class started as I was walking in the door.

It was quite the experience. I learned several things about myself that if I already knew I had forgotten in the past five years. I have no rhythm, nope none what so ever. I stayed in the back of the room and kept wondering if I attend the class regularly if my rhythm would ever improve. I also have very poor coordination skills. If I wasn't regularly looking foolish I was still two steps behind. However, I felt great, I did work up a sweat but it wasn't so much that I had to stop and take a breather and I was able to keep up with the others who mostly looked like they did this sort of thing nightly.

Overall, I loved it. I doubt that I will ever have the skills of Shakira when it comes to belly dancing as my hips are compulsive liars and I don't think the song Boom Boom Pow will ever grow on me but I think that I will go back next week. You know, just for fun.

30 Minutes of Wonderful

A lot of our friends are pregnant. I can think of six of our friends who are pregnant and another who is adopting a baby girl in April. I am surrounded by women who are expecting, hoping to get pregnant soon, or have just had a baby. I feel as though we have officially entered that stage where our friends are all building their families. It's an exciting time for a lot of people and I am happy to be able to experience it with many of them. That's seven babies in the next six months, I am just waiting to see who else will become pregnant before year's end.

With so many friends who are expecting the topic of pregnancy and conception comes up quite a bit in conversation. Last week at dinner several friends were discussing having more children. Two of them have adopted and would love more children, one of them is currently trying and the other is trying to convince her husband about having another. They are all a little older than me and several of them aren't sure they want to have another baby because of their age, their schedules, or time. Because following this conversation I had a forty minute drive home with no kids in the car and no one to talk to on my cell phone I gave a lot of thought to family size and children in general.

I can honestly say, if money were no object, and unfortunately it is with each new child, I would have a soccer team of children. I love every bit of it. Sure I get grumpy, I have my bad days, I lose my patience, but that was the case before children and my life was not nearly this fulfilling. I love every bit of it.

I love being pregnant. Really and truly maybe more than anyone I have ever known I absolutely love being pregnant. Sure I had morning (really night) sickness and difficulty sleeping but there is nothing else like being pregnant. You treat yourself so well, others treat you so well. The early movements of the baby the first real proof besides a gray image on an ultrasound screen that there really is a life growing inside of you.

Then there is the birth. Hard and difficult but amazing. And the beautiful moment when you finally get to see and hold and meet your new baby. Those first few weeks are so terrible, not because you lose and never catch up on sleep but that the sleep deprivation robs your memory of that small pink skinned treasure, they grow so stinking fast, babies do. And then just when you think it couldn't get any better, they start to smile.

As they grow the days feel short yet sometimes too long. They are constantly on the go, you are constantly trying to catch up with them. And they start to crawl, and walk and talk. And you think that it is amazing, these mundane and ordinary skills, but truly it is amazing. You call friends and family, snap pictures, jot down 'baby rolled over' in the baby book.

And they transform slowly yet seemingly right before your eyes from infants to babies to toddlers. And there language grows and it's no longer just 'no' but 'no, mommy come here and help me'. The trials of parenting, difficult though they are, easily wiped from your memory at bedtime when they curl up to be read to and blow kisses at you standing at the door.

And it's all still so early and maybe there really is a bad time ahead and terrible tantrums and harsh words spoken but I'll keep my ignorance for now. I'm sticking with my claim, if money were no object I'd take a half dozen any day.

At the same time, now is the first time in eight years that I am not desperately seeking two pink lines on a pregnancy stick. I feel busy with the three I have, especially with them all so young, but I love having so many children and babies around us. They make the world seem so much brighter. I can't wait to meet and hold each of these new people. And where as I don't want to get pregnant any time soon, it's still there, the desire to have more children. Where many people would probably find three to be more than enough I find the words of Karen Carpenter echoing in my head, 'we've only just begun'.

I know it sounds hokey but I have wanted children my whole life, a whole flock of them. And then there was such a long time when I didn't know if we would ever have any of our own. But just as I never take running water for granted thanks to the year I lived in the house with the very shallow well, I will never take my role as parent for granted. Even if someday, I do indeed buy them a birthday cake from Kroger.

Minor setbacks and excursions

Sometimes achieving your goals is just harder than you imagined, even if they appear completely attainable. I had every intention of running 15 miles last week. 15 miles. Doesn't even sound like all that much, but there is so much on the calendar and on the to-do list and 15 miles was a measly 6 miles by weeks end.

I'm not giving up, that was just week one. But this week (I am starting my week's on Monday) I am going to aim high and realize that I am just not a fan of the treadmill. Yesterday, our team madness ran a mock 5k at a park nearby. It was cold. About 24 degrees. And there was still ice and snow on the ground from the snow that fell a week before Christmas. But I managed to come in on this flat and easy trail in under 25 minutes. That forces me to realize that the treadmill is a necessary evil to keep up my physical ability during these treacherous winter months (this is shaping up to be the coldest winter I have ever known).

Last week was a little setback to my goals, but I'm not giving up. Instead I am filling up the calendar with early spring races and looking ahead to the half marathon and running on the beach.

2010 Goals

It's that time of year again. Time to decide to quit things, time to make resolutions to change or improve. It's January. There's freeze warnings throughout the East Coast. Man, if it weren't for tomorrow being Bailey and Cooper's birthday I think I could honestly say that I hate January.

You see I made not so much a list of Resolutions but a list of 'goals' for 2010. I tried when thinking of my resolutions to be reasonable and make goals that were attainable. For instance I would love to quit biting my nails and I have stopped for months at a time but I always start back up again so I just left it off the list. No reason to let this year get off on the wrong start. I also thought of adding 'grow hair back that I have lost' but I don't really know how to get back all the hair I have been losing since I had Sean. I don't know if I am deficient in something or if it is normal to lose seven hundred pieces of hair each morning in the shower but I know one can not resolve to just grow back their hair because my husband would not be balding if that were the case. So realistic and attainable, that was the aim.

So here they are in no particular order. (You may notice a certain theme.)

1. To take training more seriously. I vow to run 15 miles a week or 60 miles a month throughout 2010, meeting an overall goal of breaking 700 miles for the year. This goal will require running approximately four times a week. So I must also resolve my issues with the monster, I mean treadmill in the basement. It is after all below freezing in these parts and will be all week.

2. To run a 5k in under 25 minutes. Sure I would like to do it in less than 24 or 23 minutes. But I want goals that are attainable for this year. If I reach 25 minutes than I can make more goals but for now I would like to come in under 25 minutes.

3. To work more with Bailey and Cooper on letters, numbers and colors. Their brains are in the sponge state and we must take advantage of this period. In a few short years they won't be listening to anything I tell them and will refuse that an apple is an apple even if it most obviously is, we must make the most of this time.

4. To reboot the Thomas' financial goals and plans and get savings back on the priority list. 'nough said.

5. My most lofty goal. I would like to run a half marathon this year. The half marathon I have in mind is in September so I have nine months to train for it and if I keep with goal number one it shouldn't be any trouble but I am still nervous about this one more than the others. I will save the 26.2 for 2011. I also want to do the Virginia 10 miler but it falls after the half marathon and if I can pull off the half I don't think the 10 miler will be unattainable.

6. To cook more meals at home and eat out less. This one may actual be harder for me than running the half marathon.

7. To train with and compete with the rest of East Coast Madness in two adventure races this year.

I know things like cutting out refined sugars and sweets in general should be on my list but it isn't. Instead I have started a new blog(read: Yes, I am truly crazy) and have been baking up a storm and am enjoying every moment of it. Also, it makes me want to run more.

I have high hopes for this year.

Off Target

After every race we run my sister asks, "Isn't running addictive?" I am usually so high from running and out of breath that I just shake my head and stretch, but lately I have been thinking more and more about the addictive powers of running.

Now keep in mind I haven't gone for a run since Saturday's 8 plus mile trail and path run at the Blackwater Creek and I haven't even once experienced the shakes, with the exception of Tuesday afternoon when I hadn't been able to keep anything in my stomach for hours. But I am beginning to go a little stir crazy that I can't seem to find the time to run. Boy, I never thought I would say-or type-that.

I think about running several times a day. I think about how best to train. I contemplate my goals, both short term and long term, and constantly restructure where I want to see myself next spring, next summer, the summer after that. I worry about preventing Vitamin D deficiencies and ankle pains. If addicted I am not, obsessed I most certainly am.

Last week, that's right, as early as the 8th I was already compiling my 2010 resolutions. I have several this year, most of which are focused on my running and my training. I want to be faster. I want to run further. I want to run more often. My actual goals are far more outlined than that, but I'm still thinking them over, I'll let you know in two weeks the actual resolutions for the upcoming year.

The cold weather has finally settled in and has me already rather annoyed. The Jingle Bell Fun Run, a 5 mile run through downtown Lynchburg, has been cancelled due to impending snow. Our training for Sunday at the Blackwater Creek Trails has been cancelled due to freezing temperatures, small children and the fear of ice.

One thing I have been considering, ever since my first race this past September, is running a half marathon next year. I know I should say full marathon but I believe in taking smaller steps. There are several next fall that look promising and we would have the whole spring and summer to prepare. One in particular, at a beach not too overly far from here, is really playing my tune. I think I may have Todd convinced that we should participate.

So addicted to running? Maybe.

Addicted to the thought of it? Most definitely.

It'e been 7 months and 15 days...or something like that.

Most of the world has surely forgotten by now the chaos that overcame my life earlier this year when a good friend of mine and my mother came across my blog in the same week. Who are we kidding, only a handful of people have ever even read my blog, but I assure you that most of them have probably forgotten and didn't even care to begin with.

Who can't get over it? Me. Almost daily and sometimes several times a day I rethink my bad judgement. How could I have been so, so,...you know, the way that I was, so carefree and dumb. Telling the internets anything and everything that came to my mind was a great source of post ideas but it was also a lot more trouble than I ever imagined.

I have been very careful about my writing ever since with the exception of my last post. I let loose because I felt frustrated. I pour over details and make sure that I don't divulge too many charaterizing details or information and mostly stick to topics that revolve safely around my own life. It's so interesting, I know, I apologize. I liked it better when I could tell you about my crazy childhood and the mother I've never understood or really known. But I am trying to grow up, act my age, set a good example and not receive any hate mail. So here we are.

Today when I logged on to tell you about first tantrums and full bags of popcorn thrown away while still hot from Target's heating lamps I noticed my blog had two comments that needed to be moderated. Now I have no reason why these comments needed to be moderated other than the posts themselves were written over 20 months ago. I read the comments, they were delightful, but my heartbeat increased and a wave of nausea overcame me as I hit 'read' on them because folks- I live in fear.

I live in fear that I will hurt someone else's feelings by the simplest phrase or topic. I worry that my fear is really trapping me from writing about the sort of things I wanted to write about when I first began my blog two years ago.

Do I just scream from the rooftops that this is who I am and make no amends for it? Do I keep silent? Do I just get over myself already?

I wanted to post about the audacity of putting melatonin in sippy cups but I'm worried about the flaming I would recieve from workers at the Covenant Apostolic Church. I mean, I'm sure they had their reasons, right?

I ask myself, who is really suffering here?

December? Seriously? Already? Are you sure?

Sometimes I think I am surely the worst blogger ever. Very often I have clever and witty things to say, or at least I think I do but I very seldom have the time to share my witty and clever things.

To be honest I have never felt so busy and overwhelmed in my entire life. You see I have been busy before, in college or when we were building our house, perhaps on a project or when I had a job. But there was always a foreseeable ending to that episode of busyness (spell check recognizes busyness, is it a word? I don't have the time to check?) The thing is now that I don't even have the time to finish a blog post in one setting, or make a phone call to my favorite sister-in-law or soak in the tub without falling asleep within five minutes and I really don't see us slowing down. Not for 18 years or so.

In fact we seem to just be making our lives more and more hectic all the time. Taking up running, throwing more holiday parties than we have friends. But I feel great. Sure there are days I feel like I could tear all of my hair out or could slap the fifteenth person in a row to give me the 'you sure have your hands full' line but then there are days where I truly feel like a very lucky woman.

Thanksgiving was a blast. The day itself was busy, we had a run which was a tad bit disappointing but my entire family was there and we all had breakfast together afterwards so that was nice. Then I went home and worked on dinner for seven all afternoon, but it too was rewarding. Afterwards we boxed up what was left and took a care package to my brother and his girlfriend who were camped out at Best Buy.

Friday I got up early and went shopping with my family and then my brother, his girlfriend and my sister came over and helped me prepare our annual day after thanksgiving feast. This was the 8th year we have done it and this was by far the least stressful year yet. I even snuck a few things in, like Carrot Souffle, when I noticed we were ahead of schedule. The dinner had a huge turnout and it was as always, a lot of fun.

The rest of the weekend was busy with family and training and the four day weekend ended as soon as it began. This week I have been trying to squeeze in more training for our last race of the year without much luck. On Thanksgiving I ran the Genesis House Turkey Trot, but I didn't come in with any of my goals, it was a rougher course than I had expected but it was the first time I had really been disappointed with my results. Tomorrows race is also a bit hilly which I know I am not prepared as I should be for but there is also going to be freezing temperatures and perhaps snow or rain. I am going to try and go back to my goal of just finishing the best that I can and hope that works for the other side of my brain that likes to put down the rest of my body when I don't meet the goals I have set of myself.

Happy Thanksgiving

Today was a good day. We began the day running Lynchburg's Genesis House Turkey Trot. It was a family affair. Besides Todd and I, my sister, brother and his girlfriend ran the race while my brother-in-law watched the wee ones. The race was a tad bit discouraging. Last week I ran the Run for Their Lives 5k at Peaks View Park which was the flatest course I've run to date. I finished that course, which was mostly Elementary School students, in 25:15. I was hoping to come in close to that this morning. However, the run through Rainbow Forest was more than I had anticipated when the sign up sheet read 'rolling hills'.

After the race we stopped by to see my mother-in-law at work and get a newspaper to scan the Black Friday Ads, however, I still haven't found a moment to look them over. We then went to Cracker Barrel with my family for breakfast as it was about the only thing in our little town open.

We came home and I set right in to making dinner. I cooked and baked all day and we finally ate at a little after 5. The spread was beautiful and I had to fight the urge to take pictures, we stuffed ourselves so much that most of us have gone to bed without pie and the tablecloth is headed for the wash after only an hour's use.

After our dinner Todd packed up a care package for my brother and his girlfriend who are camped out at Best Buy to buy gifts for us to give to people. We took that by Best Buy and saw their camp set up complete with Todd's younger brother's tent from cub scouts from some year's back.

Now we are home, most everyone has gone to bed and the kitchen is a mess. I however, am to tired to clean it or do just about anything other than look throught the ads and set my alarm clock for 4 am.

Happy Thanksgiving all.