Cliches R Us

As a member of a 12 step program I am no stranger to gratitude lists.

Hell, anytime you piss and moan to your sponsor about anything the first thing out of their mouth is "I think you need to do a gratitude list, you whiny little bitch!" (Ok, I added the "you whiny little bitch" part, but it is implied)

Therefore, I am not really a once a year giver of thanks, but since I have no running to write about (*le sigh*) I thought I would write something down.

Thanksgiving Cliche 2010

1. I am grateful that this little BOY is cooking along just fine inside the equally healthy LA Run Buddy

It is a boy! Come on, even people that do not like babies can not help but smile at that buddha belly!

2. I am grateful that my husband is done with radiation, does not need anymore hormone deprivation shots, and is as healthy as someone with cancer can be.

Hubby cooking the turkey, which leads into number 3....

3. I am grateful that hubby cooked the turkey since I have NO fucking clue how to turn a raw, dead bird into something edible.

I am getting a lesson on turkey prep. As you can imagine, I am listening intently.

Full disclosure: He also did the stuffing, the potatoes, and the gravy. Even though my mother insisted I cook Thanksgiving dinner this year, I only did the green bean casserole (yes, the one that you give to your 6 year old niece to cook, so she feels like she is a part of the process) and the salad. I am the sorriest excuse for a woman alive.

4. I am grateful that I have a full time job with good medical benefits and a financial lifestyle I can afford on my income. Despite an economic downturn and a year that has kicked me and my hubby in the ass, we do not have to worry about paying our bills or losing our home.

Picture, solely for the purpose of a personal beef.

5. I am grateful the rest of my family and friends are healthy and happy. I could not fathom my life without them. Or more precisely, I would not want to fathom my life without them.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Friends: Old and New

This long, holiday weekend I had the opportunity to spend some quality time with some quality people. My hip has still been a problem and I have not run since before the aborted Bogg's race.

The mood in RBRland has been dour at best. This weekend I was able to see, once again, just how fucking lucky I am.

Thursday

I started the long weekend with one of my all time favorite humans, LA Run Buddy. We hung out and caught a movie since she was going to be gone all weekend visiting people in L.A. and spreading the news about her impending motherhood. (Yes, you all heard it way before the beautiful people of L.A. Ha!)


Friday

I was off on Friday for the Veteran's Day weekend. I called up a buddy of mine that recently had a stroke to see if I could come visit. (Ok, full disclosure, I went to visit him at the rehab center on Tuesday and he had been discharged that morning. Oops. Way to be on top of it, RBR)

He was trying his first foray at one handed, wheelchair baking. He was making cupcakes for his brother's birthday. I have 2 black thumbs when it comes to baking, but I have a black belt when comes to sampling baked goods, so I told him, "Hells yeah, I will come 'help'." I hung with him and his super cool family for a few hours before I had to take LA Run Buddy to the airport. His brother, sister-in-law, and their 3 children are taking care of him. Amazing people all of them.

We decided that pineapple upside down cupcakes baked by a stroke victim* have no calories, which is good for me since I ate 4.

I stole this picture from Google images, but this is exactly what they looked like. Delish.

*He actually calls himself a stroke volunteer. He smoked like a train, did not exercise, and despite being a diabetic for 14 years partook generously in the fruits of his own labor as a pastry chef. He is on the wagon now and has not smoked since the stroke 3 weeks ago. He is also the model physical therapy patient and he did not eat even one cupcake!

Saturday

Jo Lynn and I decided to go for a "walk" at Sunol Regional Wilderness Park. I put 'walk' in parenthesis because her last email to me in planning for this "walk" was "just bring 32-40 oz. of water and you should be fine."

That morning I was filling my Camelbak in preparation, and hubby says,

Hubby: I thought you were just getting coffee and going for a walk?

RBR: *sigh* Yeah, this is a Jo Lynn walk. I have to earn my freaking coffee.

When most women say they are going to get coffee and go for a walk, you imagine strolling along some pretty bike path sipping a latte. Not if you go with Jo Lynn. So filled the Camelbak.

Jo Lynn, most adorable trail dog ever, Boomer, and moi. (Pic stolen from Jo Lynn's blog.)

I had never been to Sunol and it was beautiful. There is a place they call little Yosemite because of the rock formations and there were gorgeous views of Mt. Diablo in the distance. Obviously, since it was gorgeous I took exactly zero pictures. Nice one, RBR. Documentation FAIL.

Another picture stolen from Jo Lynn

Jo Lynn is recovering from surgery and I am pretty sure she is not supposed to be dropping my ass on the hiking trails, but it was exactly what I needed to get back out there. I have been wallowing a bit because of my hip and sometimes I forget that what I really love about this sport. is going somewhere beautiful and spending time with people I like. It does not really matter how fast I am doing it.

Little Yosemite, Sunol Regional Wilderness Park (pic stolen from Google Images)

Fortunately for me, the surgery slowed Jo Lynn down. Since she hikes faster than I run, I would have had no chance of keeping up with her at her normal hiking pace. (Aren't I a peach? I am grateful the woman was slowed by painful bone surgery. Line to be RBR's friend forms here)

Sunday

Then a friend of mine from San Diego came up for the weekend to celebrate her grandmother's 98th birthday. I have not seen her in over a year. We have been friends for almost 20 years. She moved to San Diego, had children, and things just change, but this weekend it was nice to reconnect.

RBR and J at Grandma's 98th b-day. Damn, Grandma is not the only one getting older.

The take home message from this weekend for me is that, friendships take work to maintain and I have not been taking care of my friendships. I include my immediate family in this. Sometimes I forget that just because I am thinking about someone, or even talking about how much someone means to me that does not mean that they necessarily know that. I get so wrapped up in the day to day shit that I forget to take care of what really matters.

I am very lucky to have a lot of really incredible people in my life, both in my immediate world and farther away (and some that I barely know that have helped me more than they can imagine). I would not have made it through this year without their support. I want them to know how much they mean to me.

Yeah, yeah, I am in one of those moods, if you have not gotten one already, be expecting some sappy ass emails.

Finally, my BIG news!

I will admit that I am a little late in getting back to you all on my BIG news (aka: the only news I received in 2010 that did not TOTALLY suck ass!)

So without further adieu...

LA RUN BUDDY IS PREGNANT!!!

Yep, she

...is with child...

...is knocked up...

...has got a bun in the oven...

...is eating for two...

...is sportin' the baby bump...

...is knittin' a human... (Ok, I made that one up, but it makes me laugh)

Obligatory nerdy pregnancy euphemisms

...is gestating...

...is gravid...

...is showing off her fecundity

I can not think of any person that is a better choice to raise a human than her. She is the kindest, most loving person I know. I could not be happier for her or more excited to meet the little person she has brewing inside her.

I know that it is a little odd that I am so goddamn excited about this and that I feel the need to announce it here because: 1. It is not me that is pregnant 2. LA Run Buddy does not read this blog and 3. Despite the fact that many feel there is evidence to the contrary, LA Run Buddy and I are not lesbian lovers and this is not our child she is carrying,

...but as I have said many times - my blog, my rules. I get to talk about whatever I want.

I know almost nothing about babies. I have never really been around them much, but I have raised a lot of orphan kittens how different can they be?


The times, they are a changin'.

Leaving Kelseyville: NOT a Bogg's Mtn 50k Race Report

Alternative Title: My brief, expensive vacation in ShitHolio, CA.

*sigh*

Short version:

I am hurting, I did not really want to run, and I was a DNS for Bogg's Mtn 50k.

More typical RBR verison:

I do not really write much about the aches and pains of running. I am 41, I did not start running (or doing anything active AT ALL) until I was 35, and, as you can gather from the title of this blog, I am NOT your typical runner's build

Translation: Trucking this much ass around can be a little tough on the joints. Shit is going to hurt. That is just a fact.

The reality is that 99% of the time, if I run long enough, whatever pain I have eventually goes away, changes location, or does not really bother me that much anymore. However, last week my hip started to hurt even when I was not running and then during a 12 mile run it not only never got better, it got worse. As a matter of fact, after the Tarantula Run is was downright painful and made it difficult to move around at all for the rest of the weekend. All week I knew that running 31 miles was probably not a good idea.

Originally hubby and Lucy (my dog) were supposed to come with me. He had told me a the week before that he did not want to go, but I had already booked a room that was a little farther from the race start than I wanted because it was an affordable place that took dogs.

Enter my motel in Kelseyville.

The driveway to the motel. Odd, that this is not the view they chose for the website picture.

Despite the fact that a small language barrier had the gal in the office repeatedly telling me that 'Mr. Ritav' (not my name) was not coming and had canceled, I finally got checked in. Lucky me, I was in the room adjacent to the more "long term" residents of the motel.

Welcome to Clear Lake, the methamphetamine capital of California, where shirts and teeth are optional!

Friday evening was spent trying to find somewhere to eat (Let's just say that Kelseyville has been hit hard by the economic downturn.), then locking myself in my room and flipping channels to find something that was not Halloween oriented on TV. I was already shacked up with the cast of The Night of the Living Dead I did not need anymore nightmare inducing material.

Saturday morning I got up and was limping around the room getting ready, deciding how much Ibuprofen I would need to get though 31 miles, and it hit me,

"This is stupid. I am being stupid. Do I want to run this race or do I want to be able to run, period?"

Loading up on anti-inflammatories, and risking making my hip significantly worse, to run a long distance race that I did not even really want to run, just so I did not have to tell people that I did not run it? That was supremely stupid.

And really? I. Did. Not. Want. To. Run.

Usually, even if I am nervous/ambivalent about a race, I can visualize running it and being on the course for as long as it takes, enjoying the views and the people. Saturday morning the thought of driving to the venue and running 50k was overwhelming. Even dropping to the 25k did not appeal to me. I had paid for the race fee, paid for two nights in this Piss-in-the-sink Motel, and then spent 3 and half hours driving up here, but come race day morning it was clear, I was hurting and the 50k was not going to happen today.

I would love to say that I calmly accepted this fact like a mature adult and made alternate plans for the day since I was in a truly beautiful area, but I did not. I cried like a baby and called my hubby. He listened to me, and then said "Come home now. I want you to come home."

I was so relieved. I know, you are thinking. "You could not make that call on your own? You are a grown, independent woman, and you needed your husband to tell you what to do?"

Yes. At that moment, yes, I did.

And with that, I packed my shit and left.

On the drive home, I was feeling pretty bad about things. Mostly feeling like a loser and that this was the beginning of the end of my running. My internal dialogue was, "You will quit. You always quit. You might as well, you are slow and fat and suck at this anyway...."

Wah. Wah. Wah.

Mid pity party, I see a dog jogging along the center median of the freeway. I hit my brakes and pulled over in the median.

I get out of the car and see that he is crossing the freeway, but then he sees me and starts to head back toward me.

Oh fuck, no!

Cars were coming. I was watching, helpless as he crossed, trying to get him to run faster. I see a white Subaru coming and clearly hitting his brakes, but I am certain he can not stop in time. I scream and cover my eyes.

Suddenly he was there, cowering next to me. Somehow, the guy did not hit the dog, nor did he cause a wreck. He did some great driving to miss him. Thank you, white Subaru Guy, whoever you are!

I grabbed the dog's collar and literally threw him in the back seat of my car, jumping in after him and slamming the door as if the terror could be locked outside. We sat there, both panting, and staring at each other, like "Holy fuck, that was close!"

I was still trying to regain my composure, when the dog found the muffin I had bought for breakfast. He wolfed it down in one snake-like swallow and then kissed my face, his stubby little tail wagging away.

You have to respect how dogs just move on from shit. We can learn a lot from dogs.

He was wearing a collar with a Rabies tag, so I called the vet, found out the dog's name was Stanley, and got Stanley's owner's information.

(Bitchy Aside: get a name tag for your dog with your name, address, and phone number on it, so people can get your dog back to you if they are found. "My dog NEVER gets out" Yeah. I have been picking up stray and lost dogs for 20 years. Everyone says that. Had this happened when the vet was closed, Stanley's owners would have been driving 3 hours south to get him. I am just saying.)

Stanley, clearly liking the freeway better from this side of the car.

Watching Stanley jump on his owner in joy and run around with his, decidedly smarter, dog buddy (the one that did not follow him on his adventure), I was suddenly not feeling so bad about not running Bogg's.

Oh, I can win a race. If the stakes are high enough.

I held the door for a pleasant woman that I have seen several mornings at the gym. She is a treadmill runner too, so we have smiled at each other, but have never been interested enough to actually take out our headphones and say 'hi'.

I held the door for her and then entered right behind her. She chatted up the hot, 20 something year old gym attendant (To be clear, this is "hot" for 4 in the morning. I imagine I would find him less hot after coffee consumption and when he is not surrounded by the > 60 yo early bird gym set, but he looks pretty good in that light, is all I am saying.) as he scanned her gym card. He scanned my card next and I politely waited for her to start moving toward the exercise room.

Then I saw it.

The only 2 open treadmills in the green zone. I call it the green zone because, for some reason, that is only apparent to the owners of 24 Hour Fitness, it must be 342 degrees at any given time in the gym, and the green zone is where the one pitiful AC vent is located. Therefore, if you prefer to run with your core body temperature at less than 342 degrees, you have to use one the treadmills or ellipticals in the green zone only. It is a 5000 sq. foot gym and at 4 in the morning there are at most 10 people there, yet we are all clustered in the green zone. I can only imagine what a little slice of hell that gym is at 5 pm.

Anyhoo...

The green zone only has 5 treadmills, one of which is the treadmill that is ALWAYS occupied by the Crypt Keeper, who is no less than 170 years old and freakishly tan. He cranks the incline on the treadmill to its maximum and pounds out the miles like he is running from the Grim Reaper himself. No one wants to run next to the Crypt Keeper. 1. because he makes you look like a pussy with your 0% incline running and 2. if you are female, he wants to talk to you, saying things that always start off with "He He If only I were 30 years younger...."

Ick. Try 100 years younger, Creepmaster.

*shudders*

So we don't really count the one next to him "open" per say. There only 3 other treadmills that are considered truly usable in the green zone and one of them was taken. Leaving the center treadmill and the one that was parked right in front of a full length mirror.

Now, I do not know about you ladies, but I like to hold on to the delusion that when I run I am smooth and graceful like a gazelle, bouncing playfully on the treadmill belt, light as a feather, with my ponytail swinging easily which each stride, a light sheen of sweat giving my face an angelic glow, teeth gleaming as I smile at my effortless pace.

Ahhhh. Take a moment as I savor that image.

Having a full length mirror in front of you means that I must either crane my neck to the side to avoid my own image, or face the godawful truth of my lumbering rhinoceros gait pounding along, causing the machine to shake wildly and threatening collapse at any moment, with my 4 am, 41 year old face sagging at each stride, red, puffy, and my mouth twisted in grimace as I gasp for air.

Ummm...Yeah. I sooo do not want that treadmill.

And I am not one to cast stones, but Dollface in front of me, was no gazelle either, if you catch my drift.

So it was on. One of us was going to get the center treadmill and one was going be forced to face their own running truth at 4 in the morning.

I pull along side of her as the path widens, she knows what I am doing and she picks up the pace. I follow suit and push it more. She turns and smiles a strained smile at me, looking for mercy? Maybe weakness? Tough cookies, sweetheart, all I have for you is an ass kicking and bubblegum, and I am fresh out of bubblegum!

I pull ahead. I can taste victory. 10 more strides and I can throw my towel over the computer which is the universal gym sign for 'taken.'

Gah! The cleaning guy steps in front of me, allowing her to pass me. She smirks as she takes the lead.

Only 3 more strides. Dear God, Crypt Keeper or Rhinoceros! RBR, you must push through. Our legs are hustling as fast as we can without looking like we are racing each other. She is staying just ahead of me.

Then it happened. All athletes have to look for that one moment when the race can be theirs, Perky Polly on the mat next to us, pops up from her exercise ball, "Janice! Hey! How are you?"

I step around her as she slows to face Perky and throw my towel over the screen of the center treadmill. Bet you wish you were an anti-social, out cast like me now, dontcha, Dollface!

Smugly I hop on the treadmill and begin my run. I hear the treadmill behind me start up.

"Good morning, Janice. He he. If only I were 30 years younger...."

Race Report: Tarantula Run - Trail Half Marathon October 23, 2010

The real reason I ran this race

Cutest logo, EVER!

Dirty Details

Total Distance: 12.2 miles (that will make the next line of this a little shittier to type)

Total Time: 2:45:19 (errr.. yeah, so that would NOT be a PR. Even on a course that was short by almost a mile)

Number of gopher holes Ron fell in: 1 (This was not even during the race. It was before we even started running. Made me snort with laughter)

Pre Race

Ron and I decided to run this together after he unabashedly dropped my ass at the start line of not one, but two prior races. Then Katie called me this week and said that she was going to volunteer and wanted to know if I wanted to carpool.

Ummm, ... hells yeah!

Katie, Cutest Volunteer of 2010

The Tarantula Run is put on by the Contra Costa Water District (CCWD) and the employees of the water district make up the vast majority of the volunteers. This is the 5th annual race and I will tell you it is a well run, down home, SUPER friendly race. It runs in the open space of the Los Vaqueros Reservoir and Watershed. It was a beautiful, but challenging course.

Run profile. I have my own, but this one is too damn cute! Whoever does the graphics for CCWD is a freakin' genius!

Trail Map for the Run. Kudos again to the graphic artist!

RBR Obligatory Race dog photo. So cute!

Run

There was an arch for the start, but for some reason that we were not privy to, we did not start there. *shrugs* The field was small. I would guess there were less than 40 runners in the half marathon. I looked around and saw that there would be a distinct possibility that I would be last. (I know, "You need a crystal ball for that prediction, Captain Obvious?" )

Pretty pond along the trail

The run was predominately along cattle roads and we had been warned that we may encounter sheep or cows along the run. I loves me some sheeps and cows, but we did not see one stinkin' cow or sheep. Another thing we did not see one of today at the Tarantula run were tarantulas.

The only tarantulas I would see today. I am not a spider fan, but it was a tad disappointing since one of my objectives of this race was to skeeve out Lindsay. (Note: Not my calves. Taken and posted completely without permission. My bad)

I will bring back this classic, from the Mt. Diablo 1/2 with JoLynn. I know she will probably give me another "forget you!" for this picture. Such a potty mouth that Lindsay.

Soon we hit the 3 mile mark and climbed the 1000 ft dam.

Ron on the big climb being as supportive as the day is long. Which, interestingly enough, it how long it took me to climb that fucking dam.

See that face? I know it looks like a 'What the fuck is wrong with you? Get moving!' face, but he really wanted to be on the trail with me as long as possible. At least that is what I kept telling myself.

Four miles in, at the top of the dam, I decided Ron needed the full RBR experience (shut up, G) and we took some true badass runner style photos.

The view was lovely. Well, the part that is not eclipsed by my huge ass. *sigh*

Rawr! Sorry ladies, he is taken!

Let's just say our conversations and humor style are "not for everyone" but we laughed our way through the miles.

Ron is having his gait analyzed next week. Should be an interesting report. :)

After 2 hours and 45 minutes of hilarity, we finished the run laughing, smiling, and feeling strong.

The Finish

Katie was there at the finish line to cheer us in. She had braved the rain and her own cold to come out and help with race and cheer us on. Such a doll, that one! We had a great ride up and back and I always enjoy when we get to spend time together.

Katie and RBR post race

I had a great time. Ron is hilarious and fun and every time I see him he makes me laugh until my sides hurt. Thanks, man for a great run.

RBR and Ron, PunkRockRunner

I caught the blahs

You know those days, when each day you wake up and tell yourself (and everyone unfortunate enough to have to listen your whiny ass), 'I think I am getting sick'?

And then you never actually get sick? You were just pissing and moaning for no reason, and you really have an acute case of the winter is coming, the days are getting shorter, your ass is getting wider blahs?

Yeah, me too.

I have those.

In spades.

I have decided that I am going to "snap out of it!" That is what everyone told me to do when I suffered through years of chronic depression, it must be possible!

Therefore, I am going to act as if I am leaving for Hawaii next week! (ok, I am really leaving in 2 months, but if I could convince myself last winter that my eating 40 donuts a day would cure my husband's cancer, I am pretty sure I can make my dumb ass believe something like a pushed up travel date.)

This new leaf started yesterday with the incessant singing of the "Baby Shampoo" song.

Like all traditions(and other family specific shit that no one finds funny, but we all feel compelled to share with people outside of our families anyway) no one remembers how it started, but I call those little travel shampoos, "baby shampoos." Several days before our first ever big vacation (i.e. our honeymoon) I was singing a made up song about the acquisition of baby shampoos while dancing throughout the house shaking said baby shampoos.

Hubby came in from the garage mid song, and the performance made him laugh so hard he lost all bad ass composure (this is a rarity in the RBR household, and is my Holy Grail, if you will)

One notable line in the Baby Shampoo song is "When you are sad and buh-luuuuuuue, you got to get you some Baby Shampoooooooo!"

(I called hubby to ask him what tune the Baby Shampoo song was sung to, and he said laughed and said, "You made that shit up. It is a Stacey Original." I will tell you it makes the next door neighbor's dogs howl and attracts tom cats to the front yard.)

I will spare you the rest of the lyrics. The are all inane and intended to be sung way off key.

Other RBR Original's include gems like:

The Cat Snack Song (sung at bedtime to get the cats rounded up. I am a HIT with the felines!)

What's Goosehead got to do with it? (Lucy, my dog, nickname is Goosehead. Again, no one remembers why)

and

It is Time Hortonator (another pet nickname for our cat Horton, and is sung when Horton protests his bedtime and the Cat Snack song fails to illicit the 'rounding up' response )

Horton, aka "The Fatonator," "Hortonator," "The Great Slim Boney", and occasionally when he is less than the perfect child, "You Fat Fucker"

How can I feel bad? I got me some Baby Shampoos!


Running Stuff

I am running the Tarantula Run Trail 1/2 marathon on Saturday with Ron (mostly to skeeve Lindsay out. Not sure which will be worse the spiders or Ron :) ) So that should be fun.


Ok, enough weirdness, Queen Random Shit, out!