This sucks

Meet my new baby.

I had her on Sunday, December 27 at about 11:45. I had run 4 miles that morning and was ready to take my children to Mass. (Jumpstart New Year's resolutions.) I realized how late we'd be and decided to play hooky from God and spend some money. Off we went to Best Buy and 10 minutes later I had a baby I'd been contemplating for sometime. I put her in the car - unstrapped, went for an Italian lunch, ran a gazillion errands then went to Yoga. I'm amazing that way. Right after giving birth. I did a headstand and a backbend and then came home to let her suckle. And does she ever. I love my new baby. I she's got the greatest latch and really fills herself up quick. This new addition makes me very happy and I'm saving money. I smashed every one of my plates, recycled the unused paper ones and have been eating directly off the hardwoods every since. Saving on dish soap and cabinet space. And I just found out I'm pregnant with a new computer. I'll let you know what he looks like when he arrives. I think I'll name him Mac.

Updates:

No tattoo as of yet. Loving the debate.

Running is very difficult right now. Foot/ankle problems persist. Went to see my healer (aka PT) today. I'm all taped up again and found out my hips are very weak. Turns out my running gait looks more like Boyz in 'da hood because my hips drop with every step. No stability in my pelvis. I have new exercises to do. So if you catch me laying against a wall opening and closing my legs like scissors I haven't taken a job as a stripper, I'm healing my foot.

My son got a cell phone for Christmas. Craziness. He's texting me to be sure I got his text.

Here are older babies...

This is Christmas morning. They are waiting to see what Santa brought so the hand brace is not from texting, he didn't have the phone yet. It's from a snowball fight. Now THAT's my baby and that sucks - the hand thing. As does my foot thing. But I have faith it will all get better.

I'll be running like the wind before you know it instead of like Tupac Shakur. California Love. I love that song. What's your favorite song?

Happy New Year.

It's better than getting a tatt

I love art.
I have been noodling with the idea of getting some cool, small, unobtrusive tattoo. My sister threatened to remove it herself if I ever did, so I decided to get my hair cut instead.

My sister means no offense to anyone with a tatt. Go cousin Marie - hotter than hot new mother with a great head on her shoulders! Who knew?! Seen only if shown. Love it. She's got hetero women rethinking their status and EVERYONE JUST LOVES HER. She's edgy and cool. And a secret body graphic suits her. Maybe I'm just not cool enough.

It's all my running friend, Judith's fault. She's a 40-something 8-time (and counting ) marathoner. She's also a Master's Degree holding teacher with long blond hair and Ivory-girl skin. Her small, peace sign tatt just by her left shoulder peaked out and winked at me during a long summer run.

I know that...

• For intents and purposes - a tattoo is permanent. Like having a child. You better be darn sure and not lube up with tequila before the act.


• Regret closely chases the ink needle and often catches up. Once again, you better be darn sure.


• The wrong, size, the wrong image and the wrong location can make you celibate for life and keep you from your dream job.


• Aging tatts can't be pretty. Sort of like my neck right now.


• This example may unleash edginess in your offspring.

I guess a haircut for now is enough. Next I'll wax my brows and then my betty. I'll put the tatt off a bit.

Here it is. The haircut, not my betty.

Ohhhhhhh yessss.....!

I'm finally feelin' it!

I ran about 5 miles today and LIKED it. I've been warned about PRLMS. (Post-Race-Low-Motivation-Syndrome) but this hit me hard. I have been cold and unapproachable and the thought of IT made me sick. And it's not because I'm 41 and have PMS.

And so I'm back to running, back to caring and back in the saddle of my life. God, does it feel good. It's been one month since I did it with ANY gusto. Before that, nothing. Nada. Haven't wanted to. Never dreamed it would be fun again and didn't give a lick. But Beth over at ShutUpandRun keeps me on track as does one of her favs, http://elizabethfedofsky.blogspot.com/2009/12/20-things-you-can-do.html. Check it out. You'll be writing down goals, kicking ass and taking names. My plan for 2010. Join me?!

Totally off subject...

The bitch at my OB/GYN office, asked me if I still menstruated. Last week I went in for a preventative pap smear and the 20-something intake clinician asked me if I still had my period. I wanted to ask her if I looked pregnant because if not, the answer is of course you moron from hell. To calm down, I went home and did this...

Totally staged. Note lipstick and photo of happy me running over right shoulder. Beth, note sweatshirt!

Malcolm in the middle

I don't name my body parts but...

I couldn't resist this headline (named for a TV show my children watch) after I read the greatest column in our local paper by a woman who didn't realize someone had moved into her mid-section until she went to buy new pants. She had turned 50 recently and was flummoxed by the new real estate at her waist.

Me, I'm a little ways from 50 but I know why middle's giggling.

It's this...

Thanksgiving Day. Carbohydrates galore. Butter to beat the band. Eight different dessert selections. Boy was it good!

Running Reduction. Since the marathon two and half weeks ago I have run a TOTAL of 14 miles. Whoohoo.

So my six-year-old says to me, Why can't you just burn that fat off?

I'm trying, my little princess. I biked 12 miles and ran 2 today.

I'm having a hard time being motivated to run these days. I'm told it's normal after a race.
So far my pants still fit but if they didn't at least I know the score. I am the landlord of my body and I know the party I've been having. Maybe it's a good thing. Balance. Respect. Fun. Maybe running will be fun again soon. Gotta go, Malcolm in the Middle is on.

OM! at home

Is morning meditation REALLY possible?


I was looking to start my day like this...

And ended up with this...

Note candle and butt pillow. At least Maggie is finding her chi. I think she's found it on my butt pillow.

I have always been a morning person. I love the quiet of the predawn darkness. I learned the treasure of this cherished time of day when I was quite young. Having grown up with 5 siblings, quiet was hard to come by. It is here I become centered and inspired and motivated to love this life. Nowadays it's not easy to Om! at home with two lovely Labradors roaming. But at least my family sleeps in.

I am fascinated by meditation and am reading a wonderful Eastern classic called, The Miracle of Mindfulness, by Thich Nhat Hanh. In the space between tasks, chores, and to do's lies secrets I want to know about. Sort of that spiritual sweet spot that only makes itself known when we make room for it. Maggie just needs to make room for my hind quarters on MY pillow.

In the calm of our breath which links life's moments one to the next is the real reason I live to love and love to run. Setting goals, surprising myself and opening the spaces between to let more love out and in. Maybe I did find my chi this morning or maybe Maggie found her bone.

I'm boning up on a meditation practice where I can really Om! at home. Any tips?...

Happy Thanksgiving!

Black horse and a cherry tree

Well my heart knows me better than I know myself, so I'm gonna let it do all the talking

(woo-hoo-oo,woo-hoo)

I came across a place in the middle o' nowhere with a Big black horse and a cherry tree

(woo-hoo-oo,woo-hoo) KT Tunstall

There was this cute as a button girl belting this with the band during the summer of 2007 just outside the 31st Hilton in Virginia Beach. She was sexy and sassy and unafraid. A mere bystander caught in the moment of the gorgeous night, you'd have thought she was soul sister to the band's lead singer. It could've been the margaritas and a dare but I haven't forgotten her show and her guts and hope she did it again and again somewhere. A Pat Benetar or Katie Perry in the making. I just sat and watched her wishing I had her guts and personality. A former dancer who loves a stage and great bass, I could feel my fascia one with hers moving and grinding to the music, waiting for my tipping point so I could jump on that Black Horse with her. I never spoke to her but every time I hear this song I think of the mystery pixie and wish I'd been her soul sister too. A stranger is my inspiration and she doesn't even know it. You and I could be one too. So why didn't I go with the moment and let it rip?

• My children (9, 7, and 4) needed me. Yeah right. Only a dozen or so other parents THAT I KNEW were nearby and could've taken watch for 3 minutes.


• Business associates were all around and I didn't want to become the wrong kind of legend. Okay, as long as I didn't strip it wouldn't have mattered.


• I didn't look as good in jeans as my nameless hero and couldn't measure up. Really, Clair you're how old? But body image issues are very pervasive.

I could go on with excuse after excuse but the bottom line is I WAS AFRAID to do something I really wanted to. Fear is the opposite of love and I don't want to be motivated by it anymore. There was a Black Horse calling my name and I didn't get on. And now I run. I aspire to run, dance, write and love without fear. I am working on it everyday. One race is over. A song has been sung. A hero made (and she doesn't even know it.) A year almost done. I contemplate my training plan for the next race and the next song. This time, I'll be ready. If you see me near a band, give me a nudge and a margarita and I'm all over it. You can even deny you know me and I won't hold it against you.

Who's your unsung hero?

Oh yeah. The race. 4:39:21. Happy. Recovered. Getting rid of many minutes for next time. No fear. Just going to do it.

This is it!

The final curtain call...

On Saturday, I took my two daughters to see Michael Jackson's 'This Is It' and I loved it. There, I said it. I'm exposed. Nothin' between me and that truth. I keep reliving moments of the film like it was my first kiss. All you anti-moonwalk nay-sayers should see it just to witness the yin and the yang of our existence. Unbelievable, jaw-dropping, toe-tapping, heart thumping, booty-slapping, crotch grabbing mega-talent who left us troubled, drugged, and unable to keep his (heart) beat. Separate the shit from the shine you've something worth noting in our time. When the yin and yang were balanced, he let the Song sing him and the Dance dance him.

Next Saturday, I want the Race to run me. Richmond, 26.2. It's not a Bible verse. It's the place and distance my booty will be running. No crotch-grabbing until the end.

This is it...
My training is finished. All that's left is my heart. Mine is healthy and drug-free. It doesn't require general anesthesia for a nap. On November 14th, I plan to fare much better than MJ. And I'll moonwalk after I cross the finish line just to bring me back to the day. A day when a one-gloved crooner blanketed my bedroom walls and my dear mother thought 'Annie, are you okay?' was 'Eddie, can you rotate?'. Now that requires booty. God, how I miss her.

Mom, this is it.
Saturday, it's for you.