Feliz cumpleaños Joshua

We (as a group) have not been so good about birthdays lately.

Why it's so hard to herd a group of adults together to eat cake and drink tequila I have no idea.

Lives to lead and so forth.
People too busy furthering their careers, saving the world, and overtraining to celebrate.
Sad.

But we did manage to wish a belated birthday to Josh on Friday at Tutta Bella's.
Pizza, wine, beer, espresso and Trophy cupcakes.
(Had to take a break from my new cholesterol free diet.)

I tried to make it more festive by bringing a giant sombrero made of colored tape.
It worked. Everyone was dying to try it on. Strangers were gawking with jealosy in their eyes.

I told you!

My annual check-up was Tuesday.
I already had my bit worked up for my doctor.
"I don't need you to tell me I'm healthy, I just ran a fecking marathon, for chrissakes!" Bwahahahaha!
(And then, of course, I would launch into my laundry list of maladies and shortcomings, which she would dismiss and tell me to eat better.)

Reality:
Dr- You have dangerously high cholesterol.
Me- I just ran a fecking marathon!
Dr- That's interesting. You have dangerously high cholesterol. You should eat better.



It's not like it's a big surprise, I guess. I had chest pains during the training for the first marathon and suspected a blockage but dangerously high?!

So no more cake and ice cream (unless it's someone's b-day, naturally! Or a holiday. Or someone makes me a huckleberry pie, for instance. It would be rude not to partake.)

I just don't dig on swine, that's all.

... unless it's on a maple bar, of course.

Spanky found this treasure for me at a doughnut shop in Sequim called Cock-a-doodle-Doughnut.

This was my prize for stumbling across the finish.
Sweet.

I'm the MIP!

Most Improved Player!

I finished the marathon at the ridiculously slow time of 4:45. A vast improvement over my glacially slow time of 5:15, making me the MIP!
I credit Team dlm! (Steve, Mai-Britt and Bertil.)
Those Swedes really know how to support their atheletes!

Chuck was still the MVP, turning in his second sub 4 hour time.
Gina wasted precious water, electrolytes, and energy crying the last five miles and lost a minute or two.


Before:

After:


I was just glad to finish, honestly. Since I hadn't been able to complete a run over 15 miles in training, the finish line was not a forgone conclusion.
I still walked a bit but overall kept myself going.
Decided the night before on a risky stategy- no gel or energy drink, just water.
Besides a small side stitch between miles 13 and 18, I felt ok.
The last five were a struggle, I was just trying to stay ahead of the grandma right behind me. I had such a bright shirt on that I was forced to run the entire last mile cos I knew everyone could see me from the finish line.
So happy it was over I almost started crying myself!

Jeez!

May 2nd! WTF?! I didn't realize it had been that long.
Here's the deal- as I've mentioned before, once I get behind I procrastinate. The farther behind I get, the more I avoid the situation. Ask Olga and Debra if you don't believe.

But now I'm getting fucking tired of all you goddamn whiners harassing me. So here's your new goddamn blog post!

I got behind in the first place cos I was struck with (gasp!) illness. I can't remember the last time I was legitimately sick before this. But this was the real deal. Started off as a benign head cold then morphed into pneumonia then ended with a brief battle with cholera. I assign blame as follows:
50% to Olga and her stinking kid! He was the source.
50% to Spanky. He's primarily to blame for somehow weakening my immune system.

Not that much has really happened in the last month. Just training for a fucking marathon! Getting caught up on Lost. And eating alot of cake (only upside to training for a marathon.)

Staying on Message

If the GOP and the Bush administration in particular have taught me anything (aside from the obvious that, yes, true evil does exist) it's the value and effectiveness of staying on point.

So....in that vein.... I fucking hate people. They are the worst.

There are reminders literally everywhere. Everywhere.

At work- Yes, by all means, fatass, take the elevator down one floor. Obviously, the rest of us don't have a fucking life to lead. And even if we did, it wouldn't matter to you would it, bitch! Nothing is as important as your comfort and convenience. (I know I've railed about this before but it bears bitching about again I think.)

At the gym- Bitch, if you think that water bottle and pink towel saves this treadmill for a half an hour so you can go change, you are tragically mistaken. And please say something or give me a dirty look when you come to retrieve your shit off my machine cos I desperately want to discuss the matter. It's not like you are going to run anyway. You're probably gonna just walk 2mph and watch some fucking cooking show or read a magazine anyway. If you wanna stroll, there's miles of fucking sidewalk right outside.

At home- Oh you did not just take the last english muffin and not take another package out of the freezer! Oh yes, you did. You fucker. Now I have to eat a chocolate chip cookie with cream cheese frosting for breakfast. When I can't fit into my hotpants- it's on you mutherfucker.