Daily Mile is Lying to Me

I love Daily Mile – it’s such a fun place to log my runs and see what my friends have been doing for their runs.  It motivates me to run faster or longer or more often because it feeds my tiny little competitive streak.  If I see that one of my friends is running over 40miles in a week, I figure I can at least make my goal of 20.  When someone else runs a fast-paced 5k, I get the urge to pick up my pace too.

And when I hit 26miles in one week, Daily Mile sent me this fabulous motivational email that said “Hey! Awesome training last week!”, and I believed that it was sincere and that I really did have an awesome training week.

Then I got the training report for the week that I ran all of two times for a grand total of 9miles.  And Daily Mile said the same thing: “HEY!  AWESOME training last week!”.  Ummm, no.  No, it wasn’t awesome.  It was two pretty bad runs is what it was, and it was not even half of my weekly goal.

I expected more from you Daily Mile.  I expected you to give me a virtual smack upside the head and to tell me to get moving already.  That I had fallen drastically short of my goal.  That I could *totally* do better.  Or, at the very least, to say a kind “better luck this week?”.

But no, you just say “Awesome”.

Thanks for the sincerity.

This Post Sponsored by Toblerone and Starbucks Christmas Blend

 

So it turns out that the Chickenpox vaccine is definitely not 100%, because Berry Baby broke out in a smattering of pox exactly 2 weeks after Berry Boy had them.  I’m waiting to see just how bad this is going to be – he started with 2 but by the end of the day yesterday he had many many more. 

Parenting was not my forte yesterday.  I spent the majority of the day glaring at the boys for being stupid acting like caged orangutans, or yelling at them to STOP JUMPING ON THE COUCH ALREADY or to QUIT FIGHTING RIGHT NOW or such things as DON’T BITE YOUR BROTHER and SHARE THE TRUCK WITH HIM ALREADY.  It was basically a full day of refereeing, and I wasn’t doing a very good job.  I seriously considered looking for a new line of work – one that didn’t involve me acting like a bag.  Thankfully, my sister-in-law came out for the evening (the guys were out at a “Sportsman’s Night” in town, having guy time) and we ate buttery popcorn, peanut butter popcorn, Toblerone Shortbread cookies, drank some Starbucks Christmas Blend, and watched a movie that was just funny enough to take away most of my rotten attitude.

Unfortunately, I ate the majority of the peanut butter popcorn.  By myself.  Sister-in-law was little to no help.  Also unfortunate, I ate a few Toblerone cookies.  And some of the actual Toblerone.  All before my Sister-in-law showed up, because I can’t in good conscience serve cookies if I’m not sure that they taste good, right?  And then I had some more cookies while she was here, because it would have been rude to make her eat them by herself, right?  RIGHT?

So since I was stuck at home this morning with Berry Baby (who can’t go to the church nursery with his chickenpox) I hauled my butt over to the treadmill for a run.  But not before I ate a chunk of Toblerone, you know, for energy. *coughcough*  I can justify it by saying that I powered through a 4mile run in 35:36, powered solely by a few cups of Christmas Blend and a chunk of Toblerone, thankyouverymuch.

Still, one of these days I’m going to have to stop eating like a teenager and accept the fact that I’m an adult.  But maybe later.

Potty Training, In Which Berry Baby Continues To Elude His Mother

Potty training stinks.  Literally, as well as figuratively.

If I am vigilant, I can keep the little stinker in a dry pull-up all day.  I cannot, however, catch him when he poos.  Ever.

If I hear him farting and whisk him off to the toilet, and let him sit there for over 20 minutes reading to him and trying to keep him entertained, he will not poo in the toilet but will instead wait until I am frustrated enough to give up and let him go, at which point he will fill his pants not even 5 minutes after I have conceded defeat.

Like right now.

Since he was farting away, I put him on the toilet and proceeded to read “Barnyard Dance” to him 14 times while he farted occasionally.  After the 14th reading of “Barnyard Dance”, he took the book to look at it himself and promptly dropped in in the toilet, which as yet had no pee or poo in it, but is sufficiently disgusting in its clean state for me to have to throw the book away.  So we moved on to “Opposites” and “Snuggle Puppy”, and bribery with mini marshmallows.  Five readings and six marshmallows later, he got off the toilet, sat down on his little potty from Ikea and proceeded to pee, but not poo.  And now that I have conceded defeat after half an hour of toilet sitting, and have given him back his pants, he will now proceed to poo in his pull-up because I am distracted by supper and this post.

Stinker.

Dear Cadbury, thanks for the weight gain

I knew I was in trouble when you came out with the Cadbury Caramilk Bunnies.  Those tiny little Caramilk-filled milk-chocolaty pieces of goodness.

I consoled myself with the fact that you were chintzy they only came 4 to a pack, and that you only put them out around Easter.  So while I might over-indulge, at least the season was short-lived.

But NOW, NOW you come out with the tiny little Caramilk Snowmen.

DO YOU NOT LIKE ME??

Do you know how little self-control I actually have?  Do you know that the staff in my little local grocery store immediately informed me of the Snowmen presence the second I walked into the store??  Because my addiction is that well known??

I liked my pants, I really did.  Too bad I won’t be seeing much of them anymore.

Seriously, I thought we were friends.

Sincerely Thanks For Nothing,

Berry Girl.

Randomness

I’m tired lately, and I’m not sure why.  Today I got up to make Berry Boy’s lunch and pack his backpack for school, and after the bus had picked him up I plunked Berry Baby in front of the TV for kid shows and went back to bed.  Pathetic.  I’m also randomly nauseated.  So I’m thinking maybe I’m fighting a flu or a cold or something.  And I know you are now going to insinuate that I’m pregnant, but I’m pretty sure that that’s physically impossible at this point thankyouverymuch.

Because I’m so tired, I did not run on Sunday.  Or on Monday.  Ditto for Tuesday.  And today is looking sketchy.  And part of me doesn’t really care, although a larger part of me really cares, but that part is too tired to do anything about it.

I read someone’s Runner’s Wish List, and the first item on it was a Garmin Forerunner.  I’ve been contemplating something techy like this for a while, trying to figure out what type of gadget would work for me – a pedometer?  heart rate monitor?  GPS?  and I’ve settled on Garmin – the 405.  It’s pretty.  And techy.  And now I hear that one of my friends just got one for (early) Christmas, and I’m having Garmin envy.

I had a ton of fun at the scrapbooking retreat on the weekend.  Nothing beats hanging out with good friends, eating good food, snacking all day on chips and Nibs and chocolate bars and coffee and Pepsi, and looking at sweet pictures of my beautiful boys without having to actually hear them.  Bliss.  I worked primarily on Berry Baby’s album, and got to scrapbook pictures like this:

Seriously, can you stand those chubby thighs?

*sigh*

Almost makes me want another one.  Until I consider all the crying.  And the baby’s crying too.  And the not-sleeping-feeling-like-crap-all-the-time.  But those thighs, they are delicious.

Wedded Bliss

Last weekend Berry Boy’s first baby sitter (and my good friend’s daughter) got married, and she asked Berry Boy to be the Ring Bearer.

At first he wasn’t very excited about it, but when I told him he would get to walk down with his good friend who was the Flower Girl (and who is about 3 years older than him) he was all for it. 

He figured he would probably have to kiss her.

She looked a little grossed out at that prospect.

Nevertheless, he was as cute this time as he was three years ago at his cousin’s wedding:

                      at 3yrs old                                           at 6yrs old

A little leaner, a little taller, but my goodness, he destroys me with his cuteness.

“Boy.  Berry Boy.”

I’m going to go cry into my latte now and wonder where all the years went.

Jingle Bell Run 2009

So initially, my Master Plan was to kick some 10k ass  run a really fast 10k this weekend.  I was going to race this sucker and kick the crap out of it.

Then my friend Judy decided that she only had 5k in her, which was fine and didn’t deter me from my Master Plan until Berry Baby came down with bronchitis and started snotting and coughing all over me.

At which point I decided that 5k would be fine, but I was going to open up a can of  whoop ass really race that 5k.   Besides, that way Judy wouldn’t have to wait forever for me at the finish line, and plus I needed a Fall 5k for this Shave Your 5K Challenge that I stumbled across.  So my New Master Plan was to beat my Spring 5k time of 27:10.  No problem.

But then after a week of Berry Baby’s cough and snot, my own chest started to feel a little irritated.  And wheezy.  And then a little congested.  And at first I wrote it off as my asthma acting up a little, but by the middle of this week I was forced to admit that I might actually be sick.  So after a double run on Monday, I ran not a single step more.

My NEW New Master Plan was now to preserve whatever lung function I had for the 5k on Sunday, which I would now run with Judy, nice and slow and easy.

So this morning I picked Judy up, made a quick pit stop at Starbucks on our way to the race, and made it to the hotel (where package pickup and post-race party was being held) with plenty of time to spare.  I sipped my Caramel Macchiato, we grabbed our race packages and took the bags back to the truck, which is when I realized that I had forgotten to bring along my inhaler. Baaaaad.  Not only am I a bit sick, but the cool air really irritates my asthma.  So this effectively killed any possibility of running fast, which I was still stupidly considering.

We lined up for the start and then proceeded to weave our way through walkers, slower runners, and people who would just stop randomly in the middle of the path directly in front of you for no apparent reason.  Which was fine – it’s not a competitive race, it’s a “fun run”, and I pretty much expect that over half the people participating have no idea that there is such a thing as “race etiquette”.   I settled into a good pace with Judy and we just ran.  And I didn’t feel too bad – except that I could feel each and every breath as the cool air burned its way through my chest (it was maybe 2 degrees celcius).  We took a couple of walk breaks after the 5k turnaround, and I silently swore at some of the people who were now coming toward us but were still walking or jogging 4 across, leaving NO ROOM for us to get past them.  Niiiiice.  I get that some people may not realize that it’s polite to pull off to the side to stop and walk, but it would take a moron to not realize that you’re taking up the ENTIRE PATH and forcing people to run around you on the grass.

Anyway.

With half a kilometer left, my legs were itching to give ‘er, and Judy told me to “just go already”, so I took off and sprinted the last bit.  It felt awesome, but I have a feeling that I may regret it later when I can’t stop coughing.

So at the post-race party, I realized the benefits of only running the 5k – great seats, and first dibs on the food (*grin*)  I know that this race is to support Arthritis research and blah blah blah, but I really run it for the post-race breakfast – hot scrambled eggs, breakfast sausages, bagels and cream cheese…I’m totally there for the sausage.

All in all, it was a great morning.  My chest is a bit wheezy, but not as bad as I was expecting.  I’m going to credit the pre-race triple shot Caramel Macchiato – I’ve read that caffeine can relieve the effects of asthma (like I need another reason to keep drinking coffee).  I did a second Starbucks run after the race and now I can hardly wait  to hit the shower and have our friends come over for some eats and some dirt biking.

Sometimes It Helps to Laugh

I’ve been super anxious and neurotic about the whole H1N1 thing.  I am suddenly horrifyingly aware of the potential for germs EVERYWHERE.  It makes me want to stay in my home and never leave.

So I was relieved to get this little dose of perspective from one of my co-workers – a few statistics for you:

In 1997 – some death rates for Canada

1. Cancer was number 1: 58,703

2. Heart disease was number 2: 57,417

11. Suicide: 3,681

15. HIV: 626

And we're paranoid about the flu (115 deaths).

Also:

In 2006, it was estimated that 3,122 individuals were killed in motor vehicle crashes in Canada. MADD Canada estimates that at a minimum 1,278 of these fatalities involved impaired driving.  In 2006, it was estimated that about 368,396 individuals were injured in motor vehicle crashes. MADD Canada estimates that approximately 75,374 of these individuals were injured in impaired driving crashes (207 per day).

According to Wikipedia, there have been 115 confirmed deaths from swine flue in Canada and just over 12,300 confirmed cases (so 12,185 recovered).

So that was helpful.  But what really helped to settle my nerves was this Rick Mercer rant that someone posted on Facebook.  It made my day and lightened my anxiety, just by poking fun at the fear:

Love it.  I laughed my ass off.

As I did when I saw this:

I love this too.  Running really can be hilarious, like when you try the incline program on your treadmill for the first time *wink*, or when you are running your guts out and you get passed by a guy wearing a chicken costume.  Or when you go for a long run and hook your sleeve on your nose ring and hallucinate jelly fish in puddles.

Hope that lightens your day too!