Baby, We Were Born to Run?

As Bruce Springsteen's "Baby, We Were Born to Run" blares from speakers at the annual Nationwide Children's Hospital Columbus Marathon and Half Marathon, I have a moment of exceptional gratitude. I am confident enough to believe I can actually complete my first half marathon, I am physically healthy enough to be standing at the starting line on my own two feet, I am surrounded by some of my best friends, and I am in the company of over 18,000 people who helped raise over three million dollars for pediatric care.  The feeling of gratitude and awe is intense.

That moment of gratitude and awe will soon be replaced by the pain and suffering that can only come from running 13.1 consecutive miles.  As for those running the full marathon?  I am not worthy of their company!

Of course, I didn't wake up that crisp October morning and just decide to go for a long, long run.  Nooooo, I spent 12 weeks preparing for that morning's run.

It all started with a well-intentioned friend.

We all have that one friend who is smart, organized, and level-headed. When that friend speaks, people listen.  My friend who is smart, organized, and level-headed suggested we train for and run a half marathon.  Turns out she's not as level-headed as everybody thought!

Here's the thing about running a half marathon:  as you train, you learn quite a few things about yourself and your dear, sweet running buddies.

For example, some ideas sound really good in a hypothetical sense.  Ever sign up for something months in advance and then regret it when the time comes to actually run 13.1 miles without stopping do it?  Yeah, me, too!  During the half marathon, I most appreciated the sign that read, "This sounded like a good idea 3 months ago!"

I totally and 100% blame my good friend for this, too.  I refuse to take any responsibility for signing up to run 13.1 miles because everybody knows I would normally travel this distance by car.  Clearly, the peer pressure was too much for me.

Another important lesson you learn while training with friends is that your body is completely and utterly unpredictable.  For starters, you will become keenly focused on your bladder and bowels.  What do you do if Mother Nature calls while you're in the midst of one of your long runs in the middle of nowhere?  As I learned from more than one running buddy, you should never trust a fart.  Never ever.

Ladies, you also need to take care of your boobies.  Yes, sports bras are dangerous contraptions.  Many a friend has nearly suffered strangulation in the process of putting one on or freeing oneself from it, but a good bra is the difference between happy boobies and chaffed and bleeding boobies.  Nobody likes bloody boobies.

As for your toes, well, somebody in the group is gonna lose a toenail.  Check out your toes prior to training, and bid farewell to at least one toenail.  Odds are, it's gonna happen.  Incidentally, a shoe half a size bigger can be the difference between keeping all your toenails happy and losing one to the cause.

The night before the half marathon is nothing short of incredible. Everyone knows carb loading is a key component to race preparation.  I may not be happy with my overall half-marathon performance, but I can carb load with the best of them. I would go as far as to say I am an elite carb loader.  Truly, one of the best.  Those who witnessed it would have to agree.

In the course of training, injuries can and will happen. Not everyone you train with will make it to the starting line with you on race day. You may have that one friend who will suffer an "injury" during training.  She will opt out of the race and instead volunteer to cheer you on and take pictures from the sidelines.  This is a clear sign of her higher intelligence.  Make note of this, and vow to suffer an "injury" next time, too, so you can hold hilarious signs like the one that read, "Remember....You paid money to do this Dumbass" or "My New Year's resolution was to hold a funny sign during a marathon."  These people are clearly smarter than the ones pounding the pavement!

The most amazing thing you will see and learn, however, is something so precious it may catch you by surprise like a double rainbow on a Fall day.

You will see compassion.  You will see the human spirit at its absolute best.

I passed a man dressed in full fireman gear. He had to be sweating while running in long protective gear with an oxygen tank on his back and a helmet on his head.  He ran on behalf of a fallen brother.

I saw countless participants running with signs on their shirts stating they were running on behalf of someone who could not run.

Each mile of the Nationwide Children's Hospital Columbus Marathon & Half Marathon is devoted to a child who has or is battling a medical condition. These young patients and their families line sections of their assigned mile and provide inspiration and perspective to weary runners.  Their stories are amazing and their smiles are infectious.

Mile 11 is Angel Mile, and this mile recognizes the young patient warriors who lost their battle.  This mile is lined by the loved ones who miss them so dearly. This mile is the longest and hardest mile, but this mile reminds runners of the privilege to run and the honor in running.

Eventually, and to your sheer delight, all the mile markers will fall away and the finish line will approach.

When you finish you will know, Baby, you were born to run.

Sleep Overs

The person who coined the term "sleep over" was either an adult who never had children or they meant the expression as in "sleep is over and will never happen during the course of this evening."  I'm not sure which.

I'm blessed with children of two different genders. I have a daughter and a farting creature son.  Here's the thing I know with absolute certainty:  although both are absolutely capable of being disgusting in their own right, girls are marginally more civilized than boys.

A girl's idea of a sleep over is to eventually cuddle and giggle their way into the night. They whisper and talk in hushed tones fully believing the silly parent will believe they are sleeping.

Boys, on the other hand, are too busy making farting and belching sounds.  They don't have the good sense to even try to fake out the responsible adult.  This eventually leads to the parent having to threaten their own son while dropping veiled threats and innuendoes about the likelihood of ever having another "sleep over."

"Sleep overs" loosely follow this schedule:

6 PM:  Son's friend arrives
6:01 PM:  Boys begin running throughout the house with high pitched squealing that reminds mother that she has wine in the refrigerator.
6:22 PM:  Boys begin loudly playing video games.  Mother takes 2 ibuprofen with water.
8:12 PM:  Mother asks boys to get a snack, brush teeth, put on PJs.
8: 22 pm:  Mother asks boys to get a snack, brush teeth, put on PJs.
8:30 pm:   Mother asks boys to get a snack, brush teeth, put on PJs.
8:37 pm:  Boys loudly eat snack and put on PJs.  Proper dental care is overrated.
8:45 pm:  Mother opens refrigerator and then closes it.  She's just comforted by knowing the wine is in there should she need it.
8:47 pm:  Boys decide to dump every Lego on the bedroom floor so they can "find them better."
8:52 pm: Loud fart sounds and hysterical laughter erupt from the room.
9:15 pm:  Loud fart sounds and hysterical laughter continue to erupt from the room.
9:16 pm:  Mother continues to ignore the loud farts and hysterical laughter.
9:30 pm:  Mother asks boys to clean up Legos to make room for sleeping bags
9:41 pm:  Mother asks boys to clean up Legos to make room for sleeping bags
9:52 pm:  Mother asks boys to clean up Legos to make room for sleeping bags
10:00 pm:  Mother enters room against her better judgement to find sleeping bags on the floor covering 2 million legos and another 2 million legos have been tossed into her son's underwear drawer.
10:01 pm:  Mother tells boys to whisper or read quietly.  "It's time to slow down," she says sweetly.
10:01 pm:  Mother leaves the room, closes the door, and promptly hears fart sounds and hysterical laughing.
10:01 pm:  Mother decides one glass of wine would not hurt anyone.
10:30 pm:  Mother goes back to son's room and tells the boys it's time for lights out.
10:30 pm:  Mother leaves the room, closes the door, and promptly hears fart sounds and hysterical laughing.
11:00 pm:  Mother develops an illogical belief.  If she clenches her teeth and speaks without moving her jaw (creating a very attractive facial expression), She believes only her child can hear her.
11:01 pm:  With clenched teeth she says, "If. You. Don't. Put. Your. Head. Down. Now. You. Will. Never. Have. Another. Sleep. Over. ... EEEVVVEEERRR."  She hisses that last word because she is already sleep deprived and she is morphing into something scary and unpredictable.
11:02 pm: Mother's hissing has absolutely no impact on her son.  The other child asks her son, "Hey, your mom is talking funny. Why she sound like that?"
11:03 pm:  Mother gives her son "the look" (I don't need to describe that, right?).
11:03 pm:  Mother leaves the room, closes the door, and promptly hears fart sounds and hysterical laughing.
11:05 pm:  Mother realizes first glass of wine has had absolutely no impact on anything.
11:15 pm:  Mother sips second glass of wine while listening to fart sounds echo down the hall.
11:37 pm:  Mother passes out falls asleep to the sound of boys farting and belching.
9:59 am:  Mother sweetly tells the other mother that the boys were "delightful" and "we should do this again at your house."

Bowling Alley Bliss

The idea was nice. Celebrate my son's 9th birthday at a bowling alley.

Here was the vision:
Have son invite 4-5 of his closest friends to the bowling alley so they can have fun bowling.

Here was the reality:
Have son invite 4-5 of his closest friends to the bowling alley even though not a single one of them knows the first thing about bowling. Feed these wild creatures pizza, cake, icing, more sugar and fill them with caffeinated beverages. Give them each a seven to ten pound ball and see what happens.

Yes, we live dangerously. No one was actually struck on the head with a bowling ball, but we came close a few times. No one actually lost a finger in the ball return, but we came close a few times. There was no blood loss during the party so I am calling it the longest two hours of my life a HUGE success!

Both of my children have birthdays in March. I am a lazy clever mother so my daughter had her birthday party at the bowling alley at the exact same time as her brother.

Here was the vision:
Have daughter invite 4-5 of her closest friends to the bowling alley so they can have fun bowling.

Here was the reality:
Have daughter invite 4-5 of her closest friends to the bowling alley so they can be greatly perturbed by the ridiculous 8 and 9 year old boys one alley away from them. They pick the brightest of bowling balls with total disregard for weight. They remain utterly annoyed if a silly boy even attempts to use one of their balls, and they fret incessantly that the boys may score more points during the game.

Their fear, of course, was totally irrational because the boys' balls managed to go any number of places other than down the alley. As a general rule, it is a bad idea to toss bowling balls into the air.

Two hours of bowling with two different sets of children taught me a few things:

Children's frontal lobes are not fully developed so never underestimate how stupidly they can behave.

8 and 9 year old boys love to talk about farts and wedgies while 10 and 11 year old girls like to bowl.

Caffeinated beverages are to 8 and 9 year old boys what crack cocaine is to the rest of us.

10 and 11 year old girls can get excited about bowling shoes. They also think its fun to spin, curtsey, and bow after each turn.

8 and 9 year old boys like to jump up and down while making farting sounds after each turn.

Birthdays come once a year.
(You can't see me, but I'm so happy about that fact that I'm jumping up and down while making fart sounds!)

Seth Meyers and I Spent the Night Together

That's right! I was out with Seth Meyers Friday night, and I had a fabulous time!
Yes, Seth Meyers from Saturday Night Live.
Yep, him! He is such a cutie pie.

OK, fine.
Ruin my fantasy, but technically I DID go out "with" him.
Him and several hundred other people who were watching his hilariously funny stand-up routine.
I wasn't actually "with with" him, but I was with him. You know what I mean?
(Oh, no. I feel myself channeling my junior high school self, and I seemingly have no control over it!)

I'm really not one of those women who pine after unattainable famous men. I just happen to have a rich fantasy life. I also have eclectic taste in my leading men. My favorites include, in no particular order: Seth Meyers, Matt Lauer, Tom Hanks, Jimmy Fallon, Denzel Washington, Ben Affleck, and Woody from Toy Story.

I carry no guilt regarding my fantasy crushes because I know my husband has a few of his own. Jennifer Aniston has been his television crush for over a decade, and I know he is drawn to Tina Fey, too. In fairness, Tina is on my crush list, too. That lady is funny hot!

As it turns out, Seth and my son have something in common. They both like fart jokes.
Only Seth's fart jokes are more high-brow, if there is such a thing as a "high brow fart joke."

Although I mean no offense to the delightfully funny, cute, smart Seth Meyers, I think he would make a lovely Polly Pocket doll. I just have the urge to keep him in my pocket. He's so tiny and cute! I could pull him out whenever I feel like I need a good laugh. He's such a cute, funny, little guy! Mattel could make a fortune off this idea!

Perhaps it was the pre-show cocktails, but I really felt like Seth and I had a connection Friday night.

No, I'm not a stalker. I perfected those skills in junior high but ultimately abandoned them in college. Young teenage girls really are very scary creatures, aren't they?

Well, Seth doesn't have to worry. I'm not going to show up unannounced at his place of work or anything wacky like that!

By the way, anyone want to take a trip to New York with me?
I hear it's lovely there in Spring.

Super Super Bowl Stomach

Ahhh...Super Bowl Sunday.

This is the only day other than Thanksgiving when I can eat all the food imaginable without it counting towards a single Weight Watcher point.

Glorious, glorious Super Bowl Sunday!

For that reason alone it's a holiday, and I resent that we don't have the following Monday off. I need time to digest all of the high-caloric carbohydrates I will consume. My stomach literally becomes its own super bowl filled with an assortment of high caloric dips and chips.

Let me take a moment to share my Super Bowl menu. We will serve the following: wings, nachos, stuffed potato skins, artichoke dip, Doritos, cheesy fries, mozzarella sticks and....hmmm...I'm forgetting something. I'm sure it contains cheese.

No, we are not having a party. Our children are not invited to join us either.
My husband and I sequester ourselves in a room where he will watch football, and I will eat like I've not eaten since last year's Super Bowl.

Super Bowl Sunday is the one glorious day of the year when the world seemingly tilts on its axis. I eat every appetizer known to man, and I look forward to the commercials.

I eat with a fury that is actually frightening. Sadly, I'm usually bloated and stuffed 47 seconds after kickoff.

I fight to stay awake as the carb coma slowly tries to drag me into unconsciousness. My Super Bowl resolution today is to hold off on the quesadillas (that's what I forgot!) until the start of the second quarter. Not sure I can do it.

As for which team I want to see win? Who's playing?
I'm cheering for the commercials!

I'm a big supporter of commercials featuring athletic horses, singing dogs, or darling children doing darling things. Any commercial featuring Betty White will also work. If a commercial comes on that isn't funny or thought provoking, I risk slipping back into a food coma.

Really, any commercial other than the Big Daddy commercials are acceptable.
What's up with those soft porn commercials? I want the women to keep their shirts on and I don't want the commercial to include any references to farts or other bodily functions. I hear enough about that in my daily life.

Those belching and farting commercials have the potential to upset my very delicate stomach.
And I will have none of that!

Go Patriots!
(My hubby made me write that.)

The Ultimate Fart Joke

Nothing makes my 8 year old son happier than a fart joke.

Don't know any fart jokes? Simple fart sounds will do.
Can't make fart sounds? No problem! Just say words associated with fart.
Examples include, but are not limited to, the following: butt cheeks, poop, poopy, stinker, bum, butt, cut the cheese, stinky poo, fartso, farty, fart-o-rama, do-do, poo-tinker. (I'm running out of examples, but my son could fill a page with fart-related words. It's just one of his many talents. Makes me so proud!)

When telling a good fart joke (and is there any such thing as a bad one?), he can laugh so hard he cries. He's not alone. I've seen his friends as well as grown men (including his father) nearly double over in laughter upon hearing, discussing, or smelling a fart.

Certainly, he does have other interests besides farts and fart jokes. He also happens to be a big fan of Mad Libs. Remember Mad Libs? Mad Libs have short stories filled with blanks. The person is asked to fill in the blanks with a type of word.  For example, the participant is directed to select a verb, adjective, noun, or plural noun. The end result is a goofy paragraph.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

The word "fart" is an amazingly versatile word.

It is a verb as in, "That boy farts a lot."
It is an adjective as in, "The farty boy ate too many beans."
It is a noun as in, "His fart cleared the room."
It is a plural noun as in, "His farts continued even after the room was vacated by all living creatures."

We don't have a Mad Libs in this house that isn't heavily punctuated with fart words.

"I'm looking forward to my farty vacation. I cannot wait to see the ocean and the poop. I hope to fart in the surf. I also want to make a stinky castle. If I find any butt cheeks I will bring them home and display them on my butt crack. My butts and I just love the do-do!"

Mad Libs can provide hours of entertainment. Although half the fun is to play it with another person who does not know the intended topic, my son is quite content to fill in the blanks all by his lonesome. He then enjoys reading his masterpiece to his enchanted father 2, 4, 6, maybe a dozen times before moving on to the next farty page.

So what is the ultimate fart joke?

I have no idea. Go ask the nearest 8 year old boy!