slow running

Who would a thunk that my best race ever would be my slowest? Well, apparantly, everyone knew this but me. I have long been a fan of the long distance run through the woods. No peer pressure, no pavement and no time constraint but, put me in a real race and I can step up my game. I have never ceased to surprise myself with many things, the politically incorrect thoughts that run through my head on a daily basis, how far I can actually run with a smile on my face, my intense desire to do more... but i have NEVER surprised myself with an 11 minute mile. You know what I learned from an 11 minute mile? You can still lose a toenail, International blvd. is REALLY hot mid day but also really friendly. I can still rememeber my 8th grade P.E teachers voice because I heard it and stoppped to chat awhile during the Oakland marathon. I can recognize my friends from the back, and no matter how slow you are going, you are still going and 26.2 may have never taken so long but also never been so fun. The Oakland marathon was my favorite race to date, no offense Chicago or Nike but you had nothing on the biggety biggety O last month.

Enough already

I know. Trust me, I know. I am aware, painfully aware, that there is a thing out there called "breast cancer". But, and yes I am sure I am destined to go to hell for this, but, does EVERYTHING I do, say or wear need to be encrusted with a pink ribbon? Who am I spreading the word too? Who DOESN'T know what it means? Who ISN'T aware of breast cancer? If I don't wear the pink ribbon does that mean I hope breast cancer stays around a while longer? That I don't want a cure?

When I go to buy a new running shirt, why are they all tied to Breast Cancer awareness? I don't want it. I want a plain, long sleeve running shirt with no message in sight, not even a good one. I don't want my shoe laces to subscribe to a cause. I don't want my socks to be linked to a cure. I want my clothes plain and cheap and void of all meaning... they are clothes for god's sake. (probably the last time he will let me use his name right?)

I don't want my facebook status to be about disease awareness. I don't want a grocery bag or a water bottle or a sharpie marker to be about a cure. I also don't want my ATM to ask me about it either. Have we all gone insane?

Who is the marketing for? Is it making anyone feel better? Is my pink toe nail polish going to provide the inspiration necessary to find a cure, or fight the good fight? I don't think so... and if you are not "aware" that EVERYONE, and yes, I think I mean EVERYONE would like to find a cure, then maybe we should have an awareness drive for idiots... What exactly is the color of clueless?

These days I am running in a plain white shirt, white laces, black tights and blue shoes. My hat is purple and none of it has any meaning, so if you see me out on the trails don't throw pink at me, it's time to move on.

4 year old

i want to run like a four year old. remember the wonder of being 4? not knowing, or caring, what day it was? Not knowing where or why you were running? just running. now, i always know my destination. for better or worse, i know where i am going and how long it will take to get there. i know why i am running and what i am running from. it is different on different days. sometimes i am running from a holiday meal and the fat it will bring, sometimes i am running from life and the pain it will bring. sometimes, instead of running from, it is running towards things. towards giggles and kids being silly. towards a smile on my face that only a good sweat can bring, and towards a pride i have in knowing what my body can still do. i guess running as a 38 year old can be as much fun as running as a four year old, just a little heavier on the mind and soles of my feet.

suburbs

sometimes I think i am old enough to know better. I shouldn't make the same mistakes at 38 as i did at 28. Like, I know skinny jeans are not for me. Truly, are they for anyone? And if I know that, shouldn't i in turn, know that I am too old to do tequila shots one night and expect to get up with any grace at all the next morning?

At what age does immaturity turn into senility? When does bad judgement turn from innocent mistake to losing ones mind? At 28 sleeping with the wrong guy is expected. At 38 it is a made for t.v show with the word "cougar" in the title. I think a lot of us are in a grey area here. I feel like I am in my 20's but my actions should reflect 30's. My thoughts feel age appropriate (except for the crush on Zach Efron), yet my memory serves me as a 70 year old. Yes, I have called the kids by the dogs name but, you know what, my friends still know who I mean!

I never wanted 40 to be the new 30. I wanted to know when I could let it all go and wear a mu mu around town. maybe even slippers. but I have been becoming startlingly aware that behavior has nothing to do with age, experience or wisdom, it has to do with fear. Fear of what everyone may think, or say, or do. Fear of what you see in the mirror, fear of what your kids may repeat to strangers, or worse yet, your friends.

The only time I am not afraid is if i am running, or under water in the ocean off of Hawaii. How sad is that? I am a grown woman and any sort of interactive life scares me to death. Maybe senility would be a blessing, I wouldn't realize I was afraid and i could just be free to wear mu mu's and slippers everyday, not just Halloween.

Forget the age of enlightenment, I am going straight to the age of "i don't give a fuck" and when I get there, I may arrive in skinny jeans. Even if I am a wee bit senile, you can bet my smile will be one of inner peace and mockery, for I will realize that i am not 1/2 as insane as life in the suburbs.

comfort of strangers

Have you ever noticed that becoming a mother, and known to everyone, makes you drawn to becoming a no one and finding comfort in strangers?

I started writing these little blips to keep me sane. I would write with no abandon because no one was looking (kind of like wearing a bikini at 40.) I found some of them funny and so did a few other people. Well, I think I have gotten off track. I wrote something for some friends a few weeks ago and now I have lost the private excitement of strangers. The accolades from people I know I find condescending, the comments from anonymous readers I find inspiring.

It is something that happened with motherhood. I used to turn to my friends for help and clarity but, the minute #1 was born, all of the sudden my friends weren't good enough, or at least I certainly wasn't going to look stupid in front of them and ask for help. So where do we all end up? Chat rooms, websites, the self help isle at Barnes and Noble?! I for one, am tired of it. A good, 17 year old girl cry, between friends just doesn't seem to work as well when you are 38. I am not sure if my best motherhood friend even knows how much I want to run away from this job. But, I do know that Carrie L. from Des Moines, Iowa does. What is wrong with me? Why do I feel the need to hide my weakest points from my strongest friends?

I am tired of pretending I am not neurotic at times with the kids, with myself. I am tired of trying to be everything to everybody and making all the moms like me. Yes, I am talking to you, lady in the boots that always reminds me of how much money you make. Oh, and you, to her left, the one that won't admit she has Botox but talks about how great her skin looks at 40. And no, I didn't forget you Mrs. Howard, the queen of the back handed compliment ( i am only brave enough to call her out by name because she doesn't know how to use a computer).

Yes, I want you all to like me, but maybe you should like me for who I am, not who I am pretending to be on any given day. Seriously, I think I am going back to writing for myself and saying what I need to say, not what you want me to say. So, if I offend you by name or social stereotype than send me a snarky email, anonymous please, I think I just like it better that way.