The best laid plans…
I seem to fail a lot. And this time it’s not even because I’m being lazy or procrastinating or anything like that. Its because I can barely walk in the mornings and throughout the day after sitting for a while, and although the foot pain eases, I can’t go more than 3 miles before I have to stop. At first I thought maybe it was poor circulation, but now I think it’s classic plantar fasciitis. Friends have passed along exercises, stretches, and the recommendation for a special sock thing to wear. I’ll try all that and maybe a doctor appointment, but my imaginary running career, and specifically the October half marathon are fading fast.
It’s to the point where my kid keeps saying, “here mommy, use this”, and hands me a decorative walking stick which only makes me grumble at her and proceed to stubbornly limp through the house without help. Sigh. I blame old age, flat feet, and weight gain. Bleh. Sigh. Bleh. Sigh.
If all my blehs and sighs didn’t clue you in, I’m really bummed. The Accountant asks me why I insist on trying to run over the years when I just seem to always hurt myself and I don’t know. Its just this THING I’ve always wanted to be able to do, but has always eluded me. I don’t look like a runner because I can never stay injury free and/or couch potato free enough to make it part of who I am. I’ve never broken 30 minutes in a 5K or 3 hours in a half. Those were always goals I wanted to achieve but maybe I just need to let them go and move on to something else. So dramatic I know.
There’s always the bicycle I guess. Bleh.
oops i did it again, fell off the blog wagon. i’m busy yo.
here’s a wonderful post from my inspiring and amazing friend, dani.
Mt. LeConte 2015
I’ve obviously missed a few days of posting so am just going to combine things here to catch up. Never fear for I am still on track y’all.
Day 3 was a cross training day so I did some weights and hopped on the bike at the gym.
Day 4 was a rest day and I totally nailed that one.
Day 5 I actually missed because of some life happenings that screwed up my plans. BUT I am nothing if not flexible and made up for it today (Day 6) by getting in 3 miles on the treadmill, leg and arm weights, and some serious shoveling of gravel out of the bed of a pickup truck for a yard project. BAM.
Tomorrow is a 4 mile run/wog and Week 1 will be history.
Problem: my eating is still HORRIBLE. I’m not really doing this to lose weight though…I’m doing it to be able to run a 1/2 marathon with a PR…but weight loss would be a huge bonus of course. Yet, that aspect is my trouble. I just love junk. Yet I know that eating healthy is a key component of training and you can’t really be successful, much less healthy overall by eating oatmeal creme pies for dinner. But I’m still gonna whine about it anyway.
It’s 11:30pm and I have to work tomorrow but I refused to crash and burn on Day freakin’ 2. So, 3 mile wog done. Humid but breezy. Walked into a zillion spiderwebs. What is up with that?
I decided to update my long neglected blogroll and it ended up being cut by over half. Many of the old faithful have stopped blogging and their spaces are just hanging out in cyberspace. It makes me sad in a way but I know there are tons of writers out there and when I find others I like, I’ll add them here as appropriate. It was just time to make that list a bit more up to date.
Here we are, in the throes of summer. It’s been a whirlwind so far. Austin with our friends was fantastic and I should share pics but I always say that and then never do it. Bad bad blogger. I had a solo work trip to the ATL which was alright as far as work trips go. Kiddo’s dance recital came and went and was deemed successful. She tried a new camp which turned into an epic fail. I remember hating camp too. The Accountant and I celebrated our 16th wedding anniversary by attending a baseball game and a Buddy Guy concert, both spectacular. I should REALLY share pics of the Buddy Guy concert as he was inches from me and was rockin’ out in the aisles. It was awesome. MC Hamster kicked the bucket after a year of living the good life. A good friend moved to Kansas. The pool has been seeing lots of action. Polly Prius is fabulous and I’m spending way less on gas, just don’t ask me to race. And random other life events that no one cares about but me.
That was the worst paragraph ever.
I’m in one of my restless stages. Bleh. Have a TON to do but no motivation or desire to be productive. Sometimes it seems to me that I was meant for more than this. But what that is, I have no clue.
Half marathon training officially began today. Day 1 is “Stretch and Strengthen” so I hit the weights at the gym this morning and went to a yoga class at lunch. Bam. Batting 1000. Tomorrow is a 3 mile run. Which in my case means a 3 mile walk/jog (wog). Close enough.
A friend was over today and while our kids played together, we chatted as moms do. Friend said that her young daughter had come home from school one day and told her that she had a crush on a boy. The mom then said to me that this boy was “black”. She didn’t say the word black, but rather mouthed it to me silently, as if being black were this awful, horrible condition that is not to be spoken of out loud.
I looked at her and said, “oh…is that an issue”? To which she replied that yes it was. To which I retorted, “because that’s not an issue for me”. The conversation continued, but the subject was changed to crushes in general rather than the color of said crushes’ skin.
I was really unsettled by this exchange. Granted, our kids are too young to even have crushes or be thinking about such things, but that’s not the point I want to make here. This child has no idea that she “shouldn’t” have a crush on someone of another race. But she will be taught that this is wrong and unacceptable. It has perpetuation of racism written all over it.
I would have liked to have probed the mom for her reasoning behind this viewpoint but I didn’t push it. Her daughter sees this boy the way we should see everyone. As equals. Not as less than. Not as someone she shouldn’t like and admire based on the amount of skin pigment they happened to be born with.
Kids aren’t born racist, they are taught it by their parents.