excuse me ma'am

There are only a few times I don't mind being called ma'am. One of those exceptions occurred yesterday as I was leaving a grocery store. The nice clerk ran after me yelling "Ma'am, excuse me, ma'am, you forgot one of your bags." Sometimes my memory works as well as I feel when I'm called ma'am.

shameless self promotion

Yesterday I completed a half-marathon. I know I have blogged about the triathlons I have done this year but this race meant so much more to me. As a teenager I struggled with asthma that often interfered with any sort of sport. Today it can be induced by exercise but is much more manageable. On top of that, I was never much for working out. I was not athletic enough to make it on any sports teams nor did I have any desire to engage in individual events. Last year I started to get serious about exercising. Running was still my weak area and I would struggle to get a mile in before walking. I was so focused on the triathlons this year that I didn't train as much as I should have for this race. Running was also low on my "likes" that it was easy to skip my run days when I was tired. As race day approached, I was terrified. I had only gotten up to nine miles and that was interspersed with a lot of walking. It seemed impossible that I would be able to push out 13.1 miles, especially with my knee giving me trouble. Friday night I resigned myself to the possibility of walking a lot during the race. When I woke up Saturday I kept telling myself to just do my best.

The course was beautiful. It wound down a canyon full of gorgeous trees. As I looked at the scenery and listened to my music, I started to just relax and enjoy it. I kept running and running, longer than I had ever before. At mile 10, I gave myself permission to walk for a few minutes. The last three miles were so hard. The course moved in to the town and out of the canyon. I could feel pain in various parts of my body and my knee but I pushed myself to keep running. Monica ran me in the last half mile when all I wanted to do was quit. I was so grateful for her pep talk and keeping me focused (although in the moment I didn't appreciate it quite as much). As I crossed the finish line, I started to cry. Perhaps it was exhaustion but I had also accomplished something that I didn't ever think possible. I used to be a lazy asthmatic that detested running and here I was completing my first half-marathon. All the downhills helped me to finish in a much faster time than I expected. I proved to myself that I really can do my "impossibles." This summer I have seen my progress and it feels pretty darn good. How lucky I am to have friends that encouraged me and pushed me to do all these races! Now I wish I knew someone that could rub my extremely sore thighs and calves. Yesterday I was on cloud nine and today I just want to find a really good massage therapist.

the next michelangelo

My niece is a budding artist. Like Michelangelo, any surface can be her canvas.


(click to enlarge)

However, I don't think her parents commissioned this piece of art for their bathroom.

seriously?

Reality shows are my Achilles' heel. Trashy ones? Yup, those too. I'm currently stressing over Big Brother. So, I will usually give any show a one episode chance. Bret Michael's Rock of Love has earned two viewings. It's so bad I can't change the channel. Yet, I stumbled on another VH1 show that started a wave of nausea. The Pick Up Artist focuses on helping nerdy men develop their skills with women.

However, these are the "stars" of the show
The guy in the middle goes by the name of "Mystery." It's no mystery to me that I would vomit in my mouth if he tried to pick me up. On what planet is he the Master of Pick Up?

I could only last 15 minutes on this one but the portion I viewed was the men learning stock type lines as openers to meeting women. When I heard this ONE, I busted up laughing. See, the first night I met Ange (read The Good Papo on the right) we went to a house party. We were sitting around chatting when a guy interrupted with that opener. (I even blogged about it in 2005). He failed miserably. It was awkward and annoying... and now I KNOW it was just a phony way to get us talking, not even a real story. Looks like Mystery needs to teach these men something more useful. And someone needs to teach Mystery some style.

my welcome back

After spending nine days in Canada, my food supply was pretty low. Succumbing to the dreaded grocery shopping, I chatted away to a friend on the phone. I stopped in the aisle to look at razors (as I left mine behind). An older woman got close to me so I moved, thinking I was in her way. She tapped her eyeglasses then tapped me. I finally realized that her proximity was an attempt to talk to me. I asked my friend to hold a moment and the woman said "Sorry to interrupt but I love your glasses. Where did you get them?"

Yes, Utah, this fashion maven is back in town...