Am I Stinky?

Yesterday during my long-for-me run of 11 miles, I approached a lady that was going at the same pace as me. Since I had already done my first 6 miles and exhausted my self entertainment possibilities, I thought it would be a nice change to run alongside someone for the next 5. We wouldn't even have to talk. She probably wouldn't even notice I was there, I thought.

As I pulled up to her, she sped up. So I sped up, and she sped up. I did this in increments of 10 secs pace decreases until she got to 8:15 which is just too fast for me to go for 5 more miles. Since it wasn't a big deal to me (I'm in my pseudo 2 week taper), I backed off. Oddly enough, so did she.

Since I'm that weirdo, I decided to experiment on her. After 4 more miles of varying the following distance, the final conclusion was that she was okay with me matching her pace 7ft behind her. As soon as I broke into that personal bubble she would speed up until she got 7ft ahead of me. I still can't decide if I'm the stinky-noisy-weirdo, or if she's the odd ball.

Regardless of my stinky/noisy/weirdo status, it got me thinking about what really ticks me off when I'm running.

1. People who don't stay in their lane at the track. That's what the painted lines are for!
2. People that leave their dog poop lying around for others to step in.
3. Running in humidity and heat. Bleh.
4. Carrying a water bottle.
5. Having to fuel midrun.
6. Running into the sun.

Regarding #3, I know that others outside of coastal CA have much worse weather to deal with and I feel a little bad about complaining. However, I don't feel THAT bad. So on my list it goes. I find that the few degrees of heat slows me down by at least 15-30 seconds per mile.

I imagine #1 on stay-7ft-behind-me lady's list is having stinky-noisy-weirdos latch on to her during her solo runs.

Later in the afternoon, the B and I gave her a mani and pedi.  Too bad it was just playdoh and ended up getting ground into the blanket we place on the floor.  It was so worth it to see her tottering off to show Daddy.  I've never seen the kid walk so carefully before.  I couldn't get both her head and hands in focus at the same time, so here are 2 photos of our girly afternoon.  Yes, that is a toilet seat in the background.  We bought the fancy kind that has also has a kid's toilet seat you can flip down. 

Look at my beautiful fingers and toes.

In case you couldn't tell, my mom is a bad photographer.

Since I am going on about bathroom matters, there is a bathroom war taking place on my floor at work.  There is some lady that:

1. Does not flush the toilet
2. Does not wipe down the toilet seat
3. Pees all over the floor. 

I'll spare you the photos of the unflushed toilet and the dirty toilet seat.  However, I had to share the photo of the floor around the toilet.  See all the shiny spots?  Yup, that's sticky pee.  HOW in the world does someone get spray that far?! 

What you can't see is the the spray spots extend all the way to the toilet on the left as well.

Since they haven't caught the person pee-handed, some people have been putting up signs around the bathroom.  People are so gross, I didn't realize we had to tell them to clean up after themselves.  Really though, I shouldn't be surprised since you see wash-your-hand signs in restaurants. 

A little angry.

Then there is the angrier sign.  If you can't read it, the sign says," If you have no cortesy to flush the FRICKING toilet, PLEASE go to anothe floor!!!"

Because the solution to any problem is to inflict it upon others.  Yes, we're all a big happy team.  Still, it really is super gross.  Sometimes I go to bathrooms on the other floors when all the toilet seats on my floor are covered with pee.  In case you were wondering, it's not me peeing on toilet seats.

To cleanse your palette of grossness, here's a photo of the super cute B.

If I smelled really bad, would you tell me?

Hey Stupid, Stop Eating Crap

If it were possible to have a conversation with my body it would probably go something like this:

Me: Why do you hate me so much I have to get the trots before AND after runs?
Body: Because you put crap in me.
Me: But it tastes so good.
Body: No it doesn't, you just watch too much TV and are easily swayed by commercials.  Don't deny it, brain told me so yesterday.
Me: Whatever, I'm having a snickers bar for lunch.  Take that.
Body:  Fine, but then you're going to spend lots of bonding time with the toilet at work.
Me: Dammit.  Oh well it's worth it.

While consuming my daily dose of crap last night, I snorted up some BBQ chips when we saw track cycling on the Olympics.  Really, Track Cycling?!  For this event, my husband had the funniest comment.  This was our conversation during the first part of the race where the bikers stall. 

Me and Jason: What is this?
Me: I don't get it, look up the DVR info, what is this called?
Jason: It doesn't say.
Me: What are they doing?  How do they win?
Jason:  . . . the guy that can go the slowest without falling wins.

Ok, it's not as funny in the morning.  But trust me, it was hilarious last night.  Also, the internet is devoid of track cycling memes.  Internet, you have let me down.

In other whiny noises, there needs to be a way to combine the entertainment factor of listening to an audio book and the pace boosting factor of music. I've been dreading my long runs because they are becoming exceedingly dull.  50 laps around a track can do that to you. 

In an effort to entertain myself and shake out of this funk, I listened to The Importance of Being Ernest.  The only Oscar Wilde I had read was Picture of Dorian Gray.  While I loved the novel, it felt pretty dark.  On the other hand, the Importance of Being Ernest, is hilarious.  It certainly made the run more entertaining.  If there were other people out at the track at 5am, they would have found me entertaining too since I was laughing like a lunatic.  Unfortunately for them, they missed out on that particular pleasure. 

At the same time it did felt harder.  I suppose the beat of the music helps move my feet along.  Looking back at my splits, they certainly reflected that I was going slower than usual.  Since I'm slow to begin with, this isn't great for improving my time.  Turns out I'm not skilled enough to listen to audio books and keep a pace at the same time. 

Yes, I am aware that I'm being melodramatic.

Losing at Chicken

Last week my husband and I decided to have ourselves a stay-cation since we had a babysitter gap.  The original plan was to leave bottles of milk and bowls of food out for the B while we went to work.  In the end we determined that the mess we would find when we got home and the potential of having to get her back from child protective services convinced us to stay home.  We looked at her, she stared us down, and we flinched. Score Me=0, B=1.  Besides, I had a good list of things I wanted to get done.  At least that's what I told myself.

1. Finish the B's activity table and chair
2. Finish the coffee table
3. Build our king sized bed
4. Build a step stool for a 2nd birthday present for a friend's kid
5. Build a step stool for the B
6. Potty train the B with the 3 day potty training guide
7. Hang photos on the wall
8. Clean the moving boxes out of the guest room

Take a wild guess at how many items I was actually able to check of the list.  3 out of 8 isn't bad, right?

Coffee table trundle, pre-clutter.

Activity table and chair in action.  My friend said that the B I painted looks like boobs.



Step stool in it's native environment.  It's like it grew from the hydrangeas. 

I could probably come up with lots of reasons/excuses why the rest of the list didn't get done.  The real reason is that I'm a lazy bum and a coward.  This brings me to Game of Chicken, the rematch.  Not satisfied with the loss, I embarked on the effort to start talking to the B about potty training.  Every time I talked to her about it, just sending messages that using the potty is fun and a big girl thing to do, her reaction was to throw a screaming-diva-fit.  What can I say?  The kid likes pooping in her diaper.  The guide does say to try it at 22 months.  So we have 1 more month.  Again, this is how I make myself feel better.  Score Me=0, B=2.

Final nail was when I broke down and bought the B a scooter.  She's been chasing after kids at the park on these death traps for months.  Some kids and their parents are nice and let her stand on it for a little before the babysitter pulls her off of it in tears (B's tears, not the babysitter).  Or they don't let her near it and it all ends in tears.  (Still the Bs)  It's no surprise that she loves her new wheels.  It was a surprise that with a choice between a helmet with colorful cartoon characters on it, and this Harley Davidson helmet, she choses to ride on the dangerous side.  I'm worried about what the future may bring....  biker boyfriends? 

Also here's evidence that she is a Daddy's girl.


Result of Daddy saying, "Smile for Daddy."

Result of Mama saying, "Smile, sweetie."

I think that I've got lots of chicken games to lose in the future.