Things I Learned During My First 10K

Posted on April 19, 2011 by But That's For Another Blog

1.  10K starts fun, you and your group of friends stick together, laughing, taking pictures, and continuously stating what a beautiful day it is for a race.

2.  After the 1 mile marker you start feeling cocky.  Yes there are still over 5 miles to go but that first one was SO easy I think I’ll start running (oh did I not mention the fun first mile was done walking? No? Oh well then yes, yes it was).

3. Where the HELL is the 2 mile marker?! I’ve been running forever and my one and ONLY friend that agreed to run with me said we can take a walk break at the 2 mile marker, which I’m beginning to believe someone has stolen!

4. FINALLY reach 2 mile marker, and I am seriously questioning the counting skills of whoever was in charge of measuring these freaking markers, per my exploding lungs we have been running 3.75 miles not 2.  Thankfully this is a water stop and people are handing out cups of water… TINY cups of water, shots of water, What the hell people?!  Where are the Big Girl Cups?!

5.  Continuing on to 4 mile marker, no you didn’t misread.  We never saw the 3 mile marker which leads me to believe there is some crazy sick bastard running around messing with the mile markers.  Currently drafting a letter in my head to the race committee strongly urging that next year armed officers be placed at all mile markers and anyone caught even looking at the markers be shot.

6. Coming up on another water stop and I’m ready this time, quickly begin grabbing and downing tiny cups as a run by, after sixth cup I hear a volunteer yell that water is available on the tables… What the hell was I drinking?! “electrolytes” my one and only running partner replies, I gasp “OH MY GOD I HAD LIKE A MILLION!”  I begin to whimper “am I going to die?” She starts to laugh but once she sees my finger heading for my mouth yells “SUGAR WATER YOU SPAZ!!” …. “oh” I’m relieved, and now a little disappointed that I didn’t drink more.

7.  5 Mile Marker and I LOVE ELECTROLYTES!!! RUNNING IS FUN!! I’ve started reenacting the Friends episode when Phoebe shows Rachel how to enjoy running by running like a 5 year old.  Arms flailing and feet skipping. I’m doing an excellent rendition, until I accidently smack the lady running next to me who obviously didn’t have her electrolytes and was raised by sailors, geez lady kiss your mother with that mouth?

8. Can see 6 Mile Marker in the distance feeling good but have obviously reached some sort of strange elevation paradox where air is way too thin.  Only way to stay at this pace is to keep mouth wide open and gasp like fish.  Look over and I’m relieved to see my one and only running partner in same condition.  She looks at me “Can’t do this *gasp* gotta walk *gasp* you go on without me *gurgle*”  “We’re doing so good,” I yell “Don’t make me go all Sambaggins on your Frodo ass! I’ll carry you if I have to!!” I begin laughing at my excellent Lord of the Rings reference along with the guy next to me.  My one and only running partner is not amused so I slow down to a walk.  Geek humor is a tailored taste.

9. THERE’S A FUCKING HILL!! Who puts a hill at the end of a 10K!?!?! I hate 10k’s, they suck, they’re the devil, and I’m never doing this again. “Pump your arms!” my one and only walking partner yells “POWER THROUGH”.   Screw power through, this blows, who’s dumb ass idea was it to start running anyways!? I’m pumping my arms like I’m a freaking locomotive, I’m pumping so hard I think I hear something rip and I’m praying it’s my shirt. FINALLY reach the top of satan’s hill and there it is… FINISH LINE.  We suddenly have grown wings, we are flying towards the happy arch of balloons, people are clapping, music is playing, we’re laughing and grabbing hands as we soar across the finish line.

10. We have found our friends and received our 2 complimentary race beers, we all agree that this was the funnest thing we have ever done and right then decide to sign up for the 10K starting next month… shit.

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My monkey makes me sad

Posted on April 17, 2011 by But That's For Another Blog

I bought Drunky Monkey with great expectations. He and I would have tons of fun highjinks and crazy adventures together. He would be the PleePleus to my Zane Lamprey… confused? Watch ‘Three Sheets” on Hulu.com you’ll understand. And in the begining this happend! We started slow with, what I thought, would be an easy wine tasting weekend with my mother. But that ended up being a pretty hardcore trip, per poor Drunky Monkey’s slow slide into inebriation seen above. But that trip is for another blog.

After that we went to a sake festival together, but our relationship was quickly looked upon as strange “why is there a monkey sticking out of your purse?” my slightly drunken “why isn’t there one sticking out of yours, buddy!?” didn’t help the situation. Then there was the Portland to Coast relay, which started well but realizing too late that running with a monkey sticking out of your sports bra labels you as the “odd one”. p.s. sorry about not washing you after that, but you know me.

So now you sit on my shelf next to that hat I really couldn’t pull off and the Learn Spanish in 30 Days DVD set. It depresses me so much to see you there that I once put you in a drawer. But guilt and shame quickly made me take you out, that and the silent monkey screams I heard in my head as I started to walk away…that was disturbing. So there you sit, slumped with your heads between your knees. Trying to get over the nausia that is your life. But don’t give up hope, maybe this summer will be our summer. You never know, it could be the Summer of the Monkey!

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The D League

Posted on April 16, 2011 by But That's For Another Blog

Oh the D league, you all have them.  You haven’t done any laundry in weeks and the only thing that remains in your panty drawer is the D league.  The sad, pathetic underwear you KNOW you should toss, but you don’t because you anticipate this moment will come and it’s better to have the D league then no league at all. I mean what are you supposed to do… go commando?? What if you’re killed horribley and your parents have to identify the body and the doctor, while offering them condolences, mentions that you had no panties on… YOU JUST CAN’T DO THAT TO YOUR POOR PARENTS!!!

 So I have to choose from the D League options.

Option 1: Elastic has long gone* – (*should only be worn with pants) These are panties I should truly toss because they are SO horribly pathetic. I have NO idea why they’re still in the league.  Nothing keeps elastagone up but the pants I’m wearing (hence the not be worn with skirt clause). And even then it’s a struggle, really it is, there’s a dance devoted to just keeping these guys up.

Option 2: FUCK (not an abbreviation, what I say when I put them on) – these panties really suck, they’re the evil panties that looked like nice normal comfortable underwear when I bought them but end up to be halfies… HALFIES!! They only cover the top half of your butt; the rest of your ass is on its own hanging out for the world to see.  Now that I think about it these should also have a *should only to be worn with pants clause. I can’t toss them because they’re perfectly good panties and that would just be wasteful.  There are starving children in Africa who don’t have underwear!! So how can I, in good conscious, just throw these evil bastards away?

Option 3:  Took one for the team – these panties make me sad, they are pretty, fit great, but… they took a hit for the team when aunt flo visited.  Sure I could have soaked and saved them but as we’ve already established I suck at doing laundry, hence why I’m in this mess. I could toss them but I feel like they’re my own personal panty albatross, I wear them to punish myself for not being a better person.

Option 4: I’m not a stripper –  Two pieces of ribbon attached by a triangle of see-through lace. These usually came with some sexy cami I bought at Victoria Secret, it’s not a secret Victoria you’re a bitch and enjoy making all woman kind feel bad for not being strippers, oops sorry I meant “underwear models”.    I would rather go commando then wear these curses on women everywhere.  But I still can’t throw them away because I don’t think you can be considered a female without having these in your panty drawer, which is sad.

So which did I got with? Option 2… Why Fuck you ask?? Becuase the sneaky bastards looked comfortable at the time!

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