Awesome Blossom, Extra Awesome

So, I was going to ramble about how this week will be super awesome because a) It's Thanksgiving and b) It's my birthday, but, then I decided that really, I don't care because I'm all grumpy from not running but I'm just too tired to run and I don't know why because I have no good excuse and this effing sucks.

So, the chances that this week will be really awesome? 65.3%. All you bookies can take that to the bank.

Anyways.

I will force awesome upon you if I must.

Point Numero Uno: I scored a bib for the White Rock Half, which, I'm wildly excited about and almost cried over. Because I was so depressed that I didn't get myself a bib beforehand and realllllly didn't want to fork over $125 for the full. So, I'm thrilled that I gots myself a bib for the half. Yay me.

Point Numero Dos: I got to hear from one of my favorites at church yesterday. He spoke about freedom and Thanksgiving. He, his wife and young son came to America from a war torn Germany in the early 1950s. They learned English by reading DMV manuals and watching soap operas. They became citizens five years after moving here. They have truly accomplished the American dream and I don't know anyone who loves our country, our freedoms and our servicemen and women more than him. Hearing him speak, I'm reminded of how lucky we really are.

Point Numero Tres: It's a short work week. The end.

What is your awesome blossom, extra awesome for today?

PS. The title of the post is from The Office. I seriously hope y'all knew that.

xoxox

The 26th Year

So, we know that I’ve been all “Lawdy, I’m getting old. Lawdy, I haven’t done anything. Lawdy my life is depressing.” And that? Needs to stop.

I’m not going to sit around like some old lady. I’m going to do something. I’m gonna get something pierced. (if y’all can tell me where that quote came from, I’ll love you forever) Only, I’m not really gonna pierce anything.

Instead, I’m going to kick ass and take names.

I’m going to make a list—and check it twice (sorry y’all, Lite 103.7 has started playing Christmas music and it’s pretty much what I’m listening to 24/7) (unless I'm rocking out to some Dierks Bentley or bluegrass. Since I'm channelling my inner country girl this week).

I’m going to make a list of things that I will do in my 26th year and by golly, I will get them done. None of that “I’m going to paint the bathroom crap”—because honestly, I still haven’t painted it, and, ya know what, I probably never will. That’s not true, I’ll do it 2 days before Rach gets back from Canada and tell her I did it the day she left. Aren’t I an awesome sister?

ANYWAYS.

The list.

It’s like my Birthday Bucket List.

So, here goes:
(in no particular order)

Go on a girls weekend with these two awesome ladies

Go somewhere with my photog bff

Go back to London already

Run a marathon (duh)

Have a spa day

Rock out at a concert

Get my yee-haw on at a rodeo

See my niece graduate high school. And then cry like a baby

Get the perfect haircut

GO TO THE BEACH

Spend an entire day all snuggled up with my pups—and not be sick!

Watch all of North and South

Watch all the Anne of Green Gables series

Re Read Little Women

Host a dinner party

Have a girls brunch

Host a pool party and bbq

Conquer my fear of the bike

Go to a college football game

Plant a rose bush

Spectate BOSTON. AGAIN.

That's all I've come up with so far. What would you add to my Birthday Bucket List?

PS. In case you were wondering, I accept ponies, Burberry, shiny things, Agent Booth and or Jax Teller as birthday gifts. Feel free to send.

The Secret Life of SP

Or, not so secret, as it were. Is? I don't know. I don't have my English major sister here to ask. (She's in Canada. It's cold there. You can send her cards and stuff, I bet she'd appreciate that. I'm serious. Want her address? Just ask.)

Moving on.

So. I think it's fairly clear that I'm from a small town. And that my brother in law is a cowboy. My niece is a rodeo queen (only not really, because an actual "rodeo queen" is basically a beauty queen, and, my niece is more of the she kicks major butt and wins a lot, versus standing around and looking pretty. Which, she is.). My husband grew up on a ranch.

I grew up riding horses, having farm animals (or, notsomuch farm animals as much as "animals that have wool" i.e., sheep and llamas. True story) and living in the sticks. I LOVED it.

So, Friday night, the hubs and I headed out to the Texas Stampede. Which is a weekend of rodeo, music, petting zoos, and country gathering. Or something. Basically, it's awesome.

It's been a long time since I've been to any type of rodeo event--I think the last one was almost three years ago when I watched my niece tear it up at a local rodeo. That's too long!

Y'all? I had a blast. I forgot how much fun all that is. There's just nothin' like watching someone take on a big ol' mean bull and winning (bull riding). And saddle bronc riding--I love me some saddle bronc. And of course, between my husband and my brother in law, they knew like 85.3% of the guys there. One of my in laws neighbors is the world champ saddle bronc rider or something. He wasn't there. Sads.

Anyways. We had so much fun. Cheering on the guys and gals (barrel racing) as they gave it there all. Hollering for the kiddos in muttin bustin'. And laughing at ourselves. And then rocking out to Dierks Bentley until 1am. He does an awesome show, by the way. I was impressed. It also doesn't hurt that he's just darling and I pretty much want to run away with him. Too bad we're both married.

So.much.fun. And y'all? Let me tell you, nothing makes my accent come out like a bunch of cowboys. I don't so much have a southern accent, as I do a country accent. Which is not to be confused with redneck!

So, this is the secret life of yours truly. Corporate girl by day, country girl by night. And I wouldn't change it for anything.
We all know that I want my future kids to play football/cheer, but, if they wanted to do rodeo, I'd be a OK with that. Of course, we'd have to win the lottery first, as that crap is expensive.

(please excuse the horrid photos, they were taken with my cell phone with a crappy camera. I couldn't figure out how to work the husbands supa dupa fancy cell phone camera!)

Marine Corps Marathon

It's taken me forever to get this race recap posted, but, I thought in honor of Veteran's Day, I would post it.

I’ve never loved saying “Oorah!” more than I did on Sunday, October 31, 2010. Y’all. Y’all. Y’ALL. There are no words. But, I’m going to try to find some.

I knew that going into this race it would be emotional, I knew that. I got all emotional when we drove past The Mall arriving the other night, I mean, I knew I’d lose it at the race. Well. Well.

We had VIP passes, so, we got to park at Ft. Meyer and walk up to the race, which was really close. As we’re walking to the start, we look off to our right and the sun is just starting to peak out, and you can see the rolling hills of Arlington National Cemetery. The tears started! I mean, these are people who sacrificed and served for our country. Ohhhh the tears.

We checked into VIP and you know, hung out with the Chairman of the Armed Forces Committee and you know, Jill Biden!!!! Holy jeezus. Remind me of this day if I ever complain about my job, k? (don't have a pic of the husband and the VP's wife because he didn't want to bother her. His words: "She's a heck of a lot prettier in real life! And a lot smaller!")

I have a picture of my husband and the Commandant of the Marines. Um. With his arm around my husband like they’re old friends. Um?!

The Marine Corps band and the color guard lined the route to the start line, the USMC emblem was everywhere. Marines were shaking our hands and encouraging us. They were cheering us on. Me. Little ol’ me. Ummm, backwards much?

Marines manned the water stops and aid stations, they oorah’ed me the whole way! They high fived me. They encouraged me.

They cheered each other. They saw friends they’d served with. I saw fathers running for lost sons, I saw mothers running for lost sons, I saw brothers running for theirs lost in service, I saw so many moving things.

I finished my 26.2 mile trek at the Iwo Jima Memorial and the tears started again! I’m such a chick!

I ran past the White House, The Capital, The Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, The Jefferson Memorial—it was a once in a lifetime experience and I’m so lucky and grateful to have run it.

Seriously amazing. Hello, a race put on by the military?! These are my people! Organized like whoa.

I saw Marines carrying 70 year old women across the finish line. I saw Marines hoisting little boys in wheelchairs onto the bleachers to watch the race—to which, I started getting emotional and my husband goes “Oh, I’ve seen things like that all day”. Even he, boring ol’ cynical man, admitted that it was the best race he’d ever been to.

As we ran up the final hill to the finish line, it was filled with Marines cheering us on (yeah, cause, you know, they were sparse the rest of the way—kidding!) and high fiving us and they were genuinely happy to be there.

We finished, and Marines were handing us water and blankets and telling us where to go. We lined up to get our finisher medals and a young Marine put a medal around my neck and said “Oorah, congratulations, babe!”. And I wanted to hug him. But, I didn’t. Because I didn’t want to you know, get taken down by snipers or anything (yes, there were snipers).

As you know, my IT band has been giving me fits lately and I felt good going into the race. I was optimistic (which was stupid). I can usually tell by mile 4 how the day is going to play out. At mile 4, I felt great. At mile 5, I felt great. Mile 6, 7, 8? Awesome. Awesome. More awesome.

Then, around mile 9, we were rounding a corner on a downhill and it happened. Blinding, puke inducing pain. My vision got blurry and I could hardly walk, let alone run. Awesome. So, I started limp running. You know, that run where you basically jump on one foot and run? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Consider yourself lucky.

And then I had to move to power walking. For reals. And then I could run with little spurts for a few minutes until my eyes would go blurry from the pain. So I started power walking. And stretching. And whining. I’d forgotten my iPod and let me tell you, 16 miles is a long ass way to go with no music and just your thoughts. Turns out? I don’t have that many thoughts!

And I’m thinking if I can get halfway, I can totally do this. I’m not going to quit. My husband texted me to ask if I wanted to quit (since he and my family were tracking me and could see that I'd slowed down). Heck no! If our men and women in uniform don't quit, I don't quit!

Then, around mile 12 (?), I don’t remember, a Marine comes running up behind me, pats me on the shoulder and says “God bless Jack”, since, I was wearing an Operation Jack shirt and all--and I had a bib on my back that said "Going the Distance for Jack".

Whew. Well. My life doesn’t suck. It isn’t that bad. So, I start running. And I can only run for a few minutes at a time, but, I’m still running. And then walking. And I keep this up until about mile 17 where I get a burst of energy and manage to run for a few mile straight. This is through The Mall, behind the White House, in front of the Capital Building—pretty awesome.

Then we get to The Bridge (you have to cross The Bridge in a certain time so they can reopen it to traffic--wasn't an issue at all until I got hurt), which I was so nervous about because I was losing serious speed due to my IT band and my knee (which gave out right before “God bless Jack”) and I didn’t want to get pulled off the course, so, once I made it to the bridge, I didn’t even care what happened.

I really battled a lot of feeling sorry for myself thoughts once I was relegated to walking/run walking/power walking. Luckily, those were fleeting. I was being cheered on by the military. Dudes. My life isn’t that bad. And I smiled because I was running!! I was running a freaking marathon!

Remember, a year ago, I was scared to run one? Well. I’ve run five now! And I get to run outside and not be worried about my safety because these men and women protect us! Life doesn’t suck!

Around mile 21 I started to smile and remind myself that this is what I do. I run marathons.

My dad and my husband live in some weird fantasy world where they think this should be my last marathon. They are wrong. I will keep doing this until my legs fall off. Which, actually might be sooner than later at the rate I’m going, but, still!

Miles 20-24 were painfully long, through Crystal City which was really neat and packed with spectators, but, I just wanted to be done. I was sick of moving so slowly and wanted to run already.

I high fived the Marine Corps MC (Band of Brothers) around mile 24—they were out on their bikes cheering us on. For whatever reason, that totally cracked me up.

I picked it up and tried to run it in. I managed to run a bit of mile 25 and we were so, so close. You could hear the spectators. You could see where we started earlier that morning. I knew Arlington was coming up.

At mile 26, I buckled down and ran up that hill. Ran up to the finish lined with Marines. Lined with Americans. Lined with family.

It was by far, the best race of my life.

I would highly, highly recommend this race to anyone. Totally organized, so well put on, so emotional and moving. There’s a 10k too! Run the 10k! It’s so, so worth it.

I’m so grateful to the men and women who’ve served and sacrificed for me. I’m so moved by it all. So grateful to the wives of servicemen who sacrifice for us all. I’m so grateful to them all.

I wouldn’t be able to run a marathon in our nations capital if it wasn’t for them.
God bless the USA.

Semper Fi and Oorah!

Me and my bib in front of the course map at the expo. My lucky number is 8, so, I figured 2x2=4. 4x2=8. Awesome.
This was the photo above our bed in the hotel room. It was meant to be!

Finishing with a smile on my face.
The US Marines and Royal Marines at the expo. Um, hello, men in uniform with accents? Please and thank you.
Start line shot.
I love this photo.
Jefferson Memorial with the Washington Monument in the background. Awesome.
The United States Capital Building. Word.
My proud papa tracking me online all the way from California (note: this was also the day he discovered how to send me a picture via text. I'm a proud daughter!) (I don't look anything like him, do I?)
Finish line. (do you see the boy in the wheelchair in this picture? His dad is active duty and running the marathon and he is the little boy who the Marines hoisted up onto the bleachers to watch his dad start. And one of the many generals there, gave him a little lapel pin. Ohhh the tears!)

There I go! Crossing the finish line. You can kinda sorta see the bib on my back that I had made for Jack.

Me and my biggest fan after the race.

It.was.awesome. I cannot wait until next year!

Oh, also, off topic, but, whatever. Who watched the CMAs last night? Basically, I want to look like Carrie Underwood, hang out with Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert (how cute are they, seriously?) and run away with Dierks Bentley.

What's Next?

Hey, remember how I freaked out last year before my birthday? I'm totally doing it again.

I'm that person.

Luckily, BFF R reminds me to calm the heck down and that our 30s will be super fabulous. She's known me since I was 19 and obviously remembers the days in which we were skinny and stupid and got up at 5AM to work out. And we could eat Taco Cabana for three meals a day and not get fat. And Friends was still on TV. Ahhh, the good ol days.

Anyways.

I'm reminding myself that 30 is the new 20, so, really, I'm just about to approach my 16th birthday, and if anyone remembers how cool turning 16 is, it's me. 16 was the age ya know? Car = freedom = awesome.

I'm not really sure what 26 equals right now, but, surely, something awesome (especially since 25 greeted me with my first gray hair--holy hell--and I'm desperately hoping that my hair goes platinum like my mom's side of the family and not gray like my dad. Then I can at least be blonde for the rest of my life for free. Priorities, people).

So.

I've run five marathons. I've done a few half marathons. I attempted an ultra marathon. I once did a sprint triathlon (never again). Basically, all these things that were on my "bucket list" two years ago. Apparently, I am an overachiever.

Or am I?

So, what's next? What do I tackle now?

My mom was a no holds barred go out and get it type of woman. I'm basically a mini her, except for that. My mom wasn't afraid to do anything. If you know me in real life, you know I'm a total wuss. I freak out before every marathon. I cannot speak in public to save my life. I get super nervous meeting new people. Who I got this gene from, I'll never know as both my parents are super outgoing and brave. (but, once I get to know you, it's pretty hard for me to shut up and stop being obnoxious)

As my birthday looms ahead of me I'm reminded of the things I still don't have or haven't accomplished yet (ahem, kids, met Daniel Craig, gone 1 mile on a hippity hop, etc), but, it's also a time to step back and remember what I have done.

I've done some pretty cool stuff, ya know?

And, if I ever get really depressed and bored, I can always climb Mount Everest (please, pretty please click on the link).

As always, suggestions are welcome--what should I do next?

I didn't run a half marathon yesterday

Which, admittedly, is totally lame. Because I really, really, REALLY wanted to. And I looooove DRC races. DRC are my peeps, ya know (how lame did I just sound?).

Anyways.

I picked up my packet, charged my Garmin, iced the knee, went to bed early and was excited to go.

In the back of my mind, I was really nervous. Since doing whatever I did at MCM last weekend, walking has been hard. I've been stretching, icing, foam rolling, everything, but, it still hurts. I wasn't sure about running the race, as I was scared I might do major damage.

I convinced myself it would be fine, and I could do it.

I convinced myself of this by eating large amounts of pasta and french fries, followed by a PowerAde and several hours of icing my knee and watching Sons of Anarchy. Because Charlie Hunnam cures all that ails you.

Only not really.

Went to bed early, alarm set early. Ready to go.

Except not. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain and tried to get comfy. My alarm went off, I got up and stumbled out of bed. The pain was excruciating. I felt like I was going to puke from the pain.

I tried to "jog it off" by running around my house in my jammies (awesome) and then foam rolling some more. When I could hardly walk, I called it a day. I texted the husband and told him I was bowing out. I'm such a grown up.

I felt all sorts of guilty because I made a deal with Sam that I would totally own my race. And then I didn't.

And since my dogs don't understand FALL BACK we were wide awake at 6:45 AM. So, I sat on the sofa, icing my knee, eating cookies (shut up) and watching TV.

Until my BFF called and offered up a lunch date. Yes please.

So. I didn't run a half marathon. But, I spent a fantastic day with my BFF and turns out, my knee still hurts. I can't imagine what I might have done to it, had I ran yesterday.

Look at how mature I am--seriously!

This just means I'll have to suck it up and run the White Rock Half in December. Whew. I can totally do that, right?

Sneaky Peek

This is what happens when you let your husband hang out at the VIP section of the Marine Corps Marathon:

He meets four star generals while you're dying somewhere around mile 15. Awesome.

Look--with his arm around my husband--like they're old buddies.

Oh, and that's the finish line area in front of the Iwo Jima Memorial. As if I haven't shown y'all that photo enough, right?

More to come soon, I promise! After all, I can't stop talking/bragging/obsessing over it anyways!

This is what Ella Mae thinks about work

It's ok, I feel the exact same way.

This is EM's protest to her dadpup doing any sort of work. I suppose she much prefers an unemployed dadpup to be at home with her?

Sigh. That's not gonna work, sweetie.

This was the scene my husband was greeted to yesterday when he got home from running errands--the data he was helping me enter had been strewn all over the upstairs.

PS. That smudge you see in the right corner of the picture is boxer Butch running back down the stairs, presumably to warn Ella Mae beagle that we were onto her. Naughty dogs.

Marathon Coma

I'm currently trying to dig myself out from under the massive piles of work I was welcomed back to (This? Is the exact reason I never go on vacation.) and attempting to find the words that could even begin to describe the whole marathon experience.

I'm coming up short.

Turns out, all I can talk about is the marathon and the whole experience, but, I don't think I can even begin to do it justice. But, I'm happily reliving it each and every single time I attempt to stand, sit or move--yes, I am that sore.

Until I can find the words and download all the pictures (PS. My camera battery died on Friday. Let's not talk about, k?), I leave you this one captured on my cell phone just after I finished the race.

The Marine Corps Iwo Jima Memorial.

We finished the race here.

I could just cry (again).

God Bless The USA.

I'm an expert in stupid

In case you were wondering, I am. If it's stupid, there's a good chance that I've done it.

Because I enjoy torture, I ran a track workout this morning, and, well, yeah, I hurt myself. AGAIN.


In my mind, I figured, "Hey, muscle memory, if the last run I do is super fast, I'll be fast this weekend". What my body heard was "I hate you and I will kill you". Or something similar.


I'm limping around the office, pretending I'm fine and hoping that the power of positive thinking will magically heal my seriously aggravated IT band. ::finges crossed::


If not, it may be a game day decision about what to do. Never thought I'd say that. Crrrraaaappp.


Please send fairy dust and magic my way. Since I'm too much of an idiot to be smart.


Oh, and just for kicks, does this picture not crack you up? My cougar grandma and my "grandpa". Christmas, 1980. Love it!
(I have to post something funny to distract me from the mind numbing pain I'm currently in)

(No, I look nothing like my dad's side of the family. As you've seen, I'm a mini version of my mama)

A New Addiction

Because Anthro, SAMCRO, Bones, Target and Diet Coke just aren't enough!

I don't remember how exactly I got hooked on the site ModCloth, but, it's totally become my crack as of late.

I adore vintage styles and classic fits. I'm short and semi curvy (I have hips. Bleh) thus, I prefer skirts and dresses to pants. I could live in dresses all year. My closet is jam packed with frilly frocks and such. And I'm only adding to the collection.

I need an intervention.

This beauty arrived yesterday (does this not look like the perfect 1940s dress? I die!):

And I'm obsessed with this and guess that it will be coming home with me very soon:

I really want this one, but, I cannot justify the price. Perhaps it will be on my birthday/Christmas wish list?

Sigh.

What are you addicted to? What are you favorite clothing styles?

I'm an idiot. (pretend this is brand new information)

(this was going to be my deja vu post, but, them I rambled about my super classy family and really, how can we lump running in with my great great grandma turning tricks to pay for our family farm?)

So, I’ve been a total slacker this training cycle for Marine Corps Marathon. But, it honestly it’s not all my fault. How can I run at 5AM when I have to be at work at 5AM? My point, exactly. So, I don’t. And then I get home at 6PM and promptly fall asleep on the sofa watching Bones. I know, tres chic, yes? Yes.

Anyways. So, I missed my first 20 miler because I was so tired and my ankle was touchy and I spent an awesome night with some girlfriends—and I even carbloaded on pizza. But, I felt better after my 12 hours of sleep and said “I’ll do better next week!”. Which I totally did. And then, I was going to do better the next week too—which I totally didn’t. Because I went on a date night with my awesome BFF and then I was like “eh”. And slept in. Lamesauce.

So, idiot over here was all “No worries, I’ll just run 20 miles this weekend with my DRC friends on Saturday since I have to work on Sunday. I won’t taper. No problem.”

And then the Universe was all “Are you mocking me? Because if you are, I will smack you.”

And I got smacked.

At mile 15.

By a pain so severe I thought I was going to pass out or puke, or both. So bad that telling myself I could run through it wasn’t even possible. I was getting passed by power walkers (I don’t want to talk about it). The one time I decide not to take my phone, I’m stranded a good 3 miles from my car and having to walk it in. Ohhhh the rage. No words.

Driving hurt. Sitting hurt. Stretching hurt. Standing? Yep, that hurt too. I had to have the husband help me out of the car.

I couldn’t believe I had been that stupid. That I had temped fate in such a manner. I was 100% totally reliving the injury that plagued me last summer and fall. Not happy.

Messed around on the foam roller. Iced. Stretch. Foam roll. Massage. Rinse, repeat.

Didn’t run yesterday.

Hot bath, foam roll, ice, foam roll. Repeat.

Didn’t run this morning—but! But! That’s because I’ve learned my lesson and don’t want to tempt fate. I feel better today! It hardly hurts. I think I might be OK.

There was some serious devistation when I thought I couldn’t even run the marathon this weekend, and I didn’t tell anyone I’d gotten hurt because I didn’t want the lecture about attempting a 20 miler one week out. But! :knocks on wood: I think I might be OK. As long as I take it easy.

And have no disillusions of a PR. Which I don’t.

Marathon Number Five, here I come!