The Shame!

Email received this morning:

From: Frank
To: Sarah

Subject: thanks

Thanks for the recent run report. It made my day! I really enjoy re-reading runs from 6 weeks ago!

OUCH. Oh my god, OUCH, Frank!

Jesus.

Needless to say things have been a little squirrely over here at Chez Gifford. This week we're having windows installed in the entire house, and here's what we're dealing with:

• 12 windows
• 5 window guys
• 1 sick 2 year old with ear and eye infection (GOOD TIMES[tm]) and no naps for three days
  
• 1 ten month old who has learned to bite
• 1 disgruntled husband spending spring break on baby duty
• 2 dogs eager to help install windows
• 1 lazy, fat-ass mommy who dares call herself a runner when she hasn't been running in over 7 days

Now, Michael has taken the brunt of all this. I've been able to stay home and "supervise" and get a ton of work done without two monkeys hanging off me, biting my shoulder and saying "mommy" or "what's that?" two thousand times every minute. It's actually been kind of nice. I think Michael has a new understanding of what it's like caring for them and trying to work and do everything else.

Last weekend we stayed in Lincoln City and gambled and ate and blended in with the white trash a little too easily. Sorry to anyone who calls Lincoln City home or regularly vacations there. It is white trash paradise. Throw in some outlets and antique stores and I was in hog heaven! I played bingo for three hours! And blackjack! It was a great way to celebrate the old birthday. I also ate a hamburger that had blue cheese on it. Good God. The scale is moving in the wrong direction, obviously.

Running: yes, it's been a little off, but starting this weekend, I'm back. Last time I took off seven days, it actually was awesome coming back. I kicked ass on the trail and ran into an old acquaintance, which allowed me and Jeffy to rest on the hills. I felt like a dog that hadn't been walked in two weeks. It was awesome. I've also been doing a lot of road running which is killing my legs.

PSA: Shaunmarie and I are starting track workouts on Mondays around 6 or 630 (I think...) at Lincoln High. Everyone knows these suck, but doing them with other people is great.

So there's the quick and dirty.

Kill Em All

So I did run on Wednesday and because I was too lazy to write a post, it's my favorite cop out, the bulleted list:

• The run did totally kick my ass.
• I got complimented on my new shoes by two ladies who lunch. I told them they were brand new and they said "not for long!" and I thought "that's the point, fatties! Get to running!" Ouch. I'm awful.
• Again with the dogs. Two off-leash golden retrievers almost took my legs out. After they passed, the owner kept telling them to HEEL. Here's the thing: heel DOES NOT WORK. You can tell me all day that your dogs can heel. I have a nice big fat squirrel and a big fat T-bone that says your dog won't heel when you need it to. They're descended from WOLVES, people. Anything can distract them, especially on a trail. So knock it the fuck off with this heel bullshit.
• Weird people with dogs. My favorite combination. This guy had FIVE dogs off-leash on the narrow trail--a ST. BERNARD, two labs, a jack russel and some other mutt. My favorite line: "They're friendly!" Well guess what asshole, I am totally not friendly and I'm going to kick your dog in the face, except that you look like the unabomber, so next time, when I have my mace, I'll mace you and your little dog too.
  
• I felt like I had smoked ten packs of cigarettes right before running. I reminisced about a little back and forth Coach and I had during my very first Shamrock Run when I told him I had no lung capacity. And then he said if I could say lung capacity...and then I clocked him.

Today I ran (don't ask my why I skipped yesterday. I'm a shell of my former runner self.). And it was gorgeous, as you all know. It was a bit breezy and I could feel the wind ruffling my leg hair. Good times(TM). I did a quick 43 minutes and was glad I did.

I am five pounds away from posting before and after pictures. You'll want to tune in for that. Because geez, imagine 163 pounds on a five foot tall frame. It's so not pretty.

Oh, forgot to mention one thing about my trail run...about seven people passed me running mob deep. I again reminisced about our old Via runs. And I am so sad that I am running one person deep. It's so not fun. I miss those times but thankfully they were so awesome that I will never, ever forget them. However, if someone doesn't step up and try to become a running partner, I will kill em all (that's actually a Metallica album. Not their best one, obviously [Master], but I do like saying that).

This is for my Benji:





And this is the baby:

Suck City

About two and a half weeks ago I came down with a sinus infection and boy, did I act like I had a man cold. In retrospect, I probably wasn't even closed to dying, but having to sleep while breathing through your mouth is definitely a layer of hell. So at the time I came down with the infection, weather and laziness had kept me from running for over a week. By the time I got the antibiotics working and felt good enough to brave the outdoors, I had not run for TWO WEEKS. The guilt.

So I went out and did three runs: one on the trail (sucked) and two in my neighborhood. The one I made a conscious effort to run faster and probably ran a minute per mile faster than usual. I felt on top of the world!

Enter the tickle in the throat last Monday. I told Michael about it, and true to form, he informs me that he has bronchitis (he loves the self diagnosis). Needless to say by Monday night we were both pretty sick...Michael especially, but I thought I could be strong for the family.

Tuesday and Wednesday were sick days for Michael and we both were running fevers and coughing. The boys seemed to be fine. Thursday I went to a client meeting, probably infected the entire office (sorry Coach), came home and slept while I had the sitter. Thursday night Oliver didn't sleep well. A foreshadowing. Friday I went to the doctor to get more antibiotics. Then came home and slept for five hours while I had the sitter.

Saturday through yesterday: both babies got very sick. Oliver started running a fever on Saturday morning...102 that promptly escalated to 104 by the afternoon. The doctor told me to go to the ER. Obviously there was nothing they could do except let me know I wasn't giving enough Tylenol. DOH. Anyhoo, after 1000 doses of Tylenol and Motrin both boys seem to be getting better.

(Not going into details because I might claw my eyes out remembering, but dealing with a two year old that doesn't feel well is akin to rolling the stone up the hill all day or getting your innards poked out by birds all day or standing in water while you're dying of thirst and not being able to bend down and take a drink. I SHIT YOU NOT, people. Between the howling, the holding, the hitting, the throwing and the banging of the head, I almost had a nervous breakdown).

And this people is why I hate February. And this is why I may have to bring back "Sarah's Songs: The February Mix tape."

Today a run is planned. Check back for details of a brutal ass kicking.

At Long Last...Online Maps of Forest Park

Look what I found today. These are super sweet. I can't wait to print them.

Detailed maps of Forest Park!

Haven't run since Friday which is a record since I started my come back. I actually told Michael that I want it to rain so it warms up. I'd much rather run in warm(er) rain than in this freezing cold headwind crappola. I am a baby and I'm not feeling well. But come rain or shine I'm running tomorrow, Friday and a long run with Shaunmarie and Jennifer (an old Vian! who already ran the Boston Marathon...more on her in the Run Report from this coming Saturday I'm sure!)

Shaunmarie and I did run on Friday afternoon at Tryon State Park...an old route that Elf and I used to run. I told SM that Elf would be jealous. It's a pretty hilly pain in the ass route, but it's nice and paved. We held a pretty good pace and SM was sure to compliment my pace even though it wasn't fast.

The funniest thing was SM wearing a wool scarf while we ran. She is a hoot, that one.

What Have You Done Today To Make You Feel Proud?

So I've been doing a lot of road running in the Compton Hood over here on the WEST side. Shaunmarie and I were scheduled for a long run up at Germantown Road on Saturday. But lo and behold people kept calling to say they were coming over to visit and watch the football game. So we had an impromptu "Seahawks Get Their Ass Kicked in the Snow" party.

So the long run was off, but I still managed to get in four miles before anyone got here. It felt good, but I can totally tell that my legs are not enjoying the hard asphalt and cement. So, I wore my Donovan McNabb jersey as I realized it was probably going to be one of the last times I could wear it while he is still an Eagle. I got some very nice comments on my weight loss (I've trained my friends to tell me it looks like I lost weight. It's a bad habit I've gotten in to. I need validation, people!) and then decided to gorge myself, because I had just run. My favorite thing to eat? The port wine "cheese food" that comes in a little tub, is bright orange and has some purpleness to it. That shit is the bomb. I ate that and artichoke dip and another hot dip and nuts and beer. Holy cow it was gluttony at its finest.

Then yesterday I had one of the best runs ever. I ran in the hood again. Usually this run contains some track running down at the ol' Oregon Episcopal School. Well yesterday there was some sort of lacrosse thing going on and there was no way I was going to run in front of high schoolers and spectators. So I figured out how to get to the Montclair Elementary school wood-chipped path.

This is where it all began in late June when I started my post partum, weight loss, running journey. I would hike up my ol' maternity shorts (a nice cotton number that fit like bike shorts with a belly panel) and my Grateful Dead t-shirt from 1988 [LA in the velodrome] that I stole from an ex-boyfriend (this thing is ancient. You can totally see through it it's so threadbare...but it was the only thing that fit me) and run a 14 minute mile. Just one mile because that's all I could do. And I ran almost every day in the noon day sun, singing the Biggest Loser theme song and telling myself that come Christmas it would all be worth it.

So yesterday as I'm running around that path like I own it without worrying about the slight grade that had previously killed me every single run, I realized it was worth it. And I was again proud to be a runner. Because, I thought, not everyone can be a runner. And then I thought, yes they can. Because if I could go from a pack-a-day fat smoker to running as much as I do now, ANYONE can do it. We just like to thing we're part of a special breed. But that's really not true.

I am TOTALLY digressing now. Anyhoo. It was a great run of 6.25 miles in 1 hour. Here's Oliver with his first zwieback toast experience.

Nothing New

Well, day four of Operation No Baby Sitter Week and things are going better than expected. We've managed to get out of the house every day and there haven't been any tears from me. I went for a run in Forest Park yesterday and nothing exciting happened. My runs have become stale and I don't feel myself improving at all. It's time to kick it up a notch and start some speed training or something. I did see my money at work though. A huge tree had fallen over into the ravine, and it's roots were causing a mess on the trail. Two days later a nice path with gravel had been put down.

Two more things to mention about my Pennsylvania trip. Zoo America (the "zoo" attached to Hershey Park) is a rip off. It costs 8.50 per person and the most exciting animals are three bison. They do have three black bears but keep them confined to a tiny little space. Owen's favorite thing to do was feed the ducks some corn kernels.

Take a close look at this picture:


Yes, your mother of the year put his shoes on the wrong feet. I couldn't figure out why he wanted me to carry him all over the place. When I finally figured it out and exclaimed as much to my sister in law. She said: "Yeah. I noticed that." !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! That's all I'm going to say about that.

I am perhaps the most boring person on the planet. Send me emails. I'm dying over here.

The Plane Flights

A two year old. An eight month old. A husband. And two 5 hour plus plane rides. Should be good times. At the start of our journey, I wasn't too frenzied as I really thought that the boys would sleep during the entire direct flight to Philly. After all, the plane took off at 10:30pm, they'd be tired and we had three seats so Owen could lay down.

Wrong. So very, very wrong.

The first stupid thing I did was buy a stupid fucking harness thing online so Owen wouldn't have to sit in his car seat. Only after we got home did I realize that there is actually no need for a harness, a car seat or even a freaking seat belt. If the plane goes down, we're all DEAD! Dead, dead, dead. I'm retarded.

So after an hour and a half in the airport, where Owen ran around in his feeted pajamas, which was very cute, they announced that people who needed extra time, like those of us with small children could board first. Great idea in theory. Bad in reality. Why? Because the stupid bitches with the microphones give us two minutes to gather our shit, get four gate tickets for the car seats and strollers (which they REFUSED to give me ahead of time for whatever stupid reason) and put the tickets on the stuff. By the time we were walking down the gangplank, half the plane was already passing us or onboard. Thanks assholes! The only good thing is that I didn't feel guilty banging people in the head with my diaper bag as I went down the aisle.

So, we set up shop in row 22. Owen has a slight meltdown about the harness but Michael and I deal with it and he's happy as a clam. (Quick side note: I changed our seats two weeks before the flight because we were in the last row [no reclination]. But I couldn't get all our seats together. So I got another aisle seat five rows up and figured switching an aisle for an aisle wouldn't be a big deal). The woman who I believe is in our row comes up, I explain the situation, and she agrees to switch although the look on her face is really bizarre. I get pissed.

Now, two geezers come up to our row and tell us that we're in their seats. They have the aisle seat in our row and the aisle seat across the aisles. Weird, I think. Something is not right! Michael looks at me and through gritted teeth says: "Give me the boarding passes." I pull them out and lo and behold, we're in the wrong row!!! HAHAHAHAHAH!

Let's review:

1. Owen hated getting the harness on, but is now OK with it.
2. I've switched seats with a woman who I thought was in our row but was actually not in our row.
   
3. Two geezers are hovering above us and want their damn aisle seats.

I obviously am now sweating and on the verge of tears. We have to get Owen out of the harness, move all my bags and accouterments, including a 20 pound baby up a row while the aisles is fully plugged with Portlanders going to Philadelphia. Not a good scene. I start getting uppity and begin telling people to be patient. I then have to call the stewardess to explain the seat switching debacle.

Owen just wants to be back in the airport running in feeted pajamas and lets me and everyone else on the plane know that by screaming for a good half an hour, forty five minutes. There was absolutely nothing I could do to make him stop.

Yes. We had become "those people with the baby on the plane." Everyone was looking at us. I just put my head down and let him cry. Finally when we got the all clear for electronic devices, we put Elmo in the DVD player and all was well. For an hour. Then I got the two year old bouncing round the aisle seat, screaming NO!, kicking me, the whole nine, people. It was ugly.

FINALLY, I grabbed him, pinned his arms and sang the alphabet song. This quieted him down and I told myself I would sing the alphabet a million, two million times, if necessary. And I did. And he fell asleep. And then he looked like a little angel. And he slept until Philly.

Right before we landed, the guy in the row in front of us looked back and then handed me a square piece of cardboard with a pretty picture on the front and a message on the back. It said that he was a teacher and a film maker and had worked with bright kids and difficult kids. And he knew it was hard. And the last line said: "You're a great parent. Kids are tough. Have a great new year!"

And that made the entire fiasco worth it. But it doesn't mean that I still don't hate people.

Epilogue: after we took Owen off the plane and put him in the stroller to go to baggage claim he screamed bloody murder as we walked through the airport. And I really didn't care.