Thursday, January 14, 2010
A very *special* Thursday Thirteen
13. Five years ago I got tired of being heavy and out of breath from climbing up one flight of stairs, the one right outside my classroom.
12. A little over a year after that, I chased an 8th grader up that flight of stairs and down the length of the hallways of the school where I taught. He finally stopped, turned around, and said, "okay, I give up. Let's go" and wheezing, he followed me to the office.
11. A year after that, I did my first marathon. Six months later, my first Ironman.
10. A year after that, I did my first ultramarathon, a 50k. Then I did five more marathons, and six months later, I did my second Ironman.
9. A year after that, I did my first 50-miler.
8. So now it's five years later, and I'm going to try another 50 miler. This time I'll RUN most of it instead of walking...hopefully.
7. Five years ago, I had a middle-schooler at home, and worked as a school teacher, and had just started graduate school. Now I have a gloriously empty nest (sorry, kids, but it's true: GLORIOUS) and have started another career.
5. Change of topic. Last Friday, I call from HR at the new job. "Misty, you've been picked for a ra........" and I couldn't quite make out what he said next.
A what? A raffle? I got picked for a raffle?
(laughs) No, a random UA.
Yes. No hurry, just, you know, in the next hour or so.
Dude. i was totally STOKED . I never win ANYTHING! WOOT! Of course, I had to go across the street to pee in the cup...which took me past WalGreens...totally great excuse to do a chocolate run although a coworker stated, very seriously, there's no excuse needed, ever, for a WalGreens chocolate run but then I thought it might look suspicious if I darted into WalGreens on the way to my random UA, so I waited until after.
So far as I know, thyroid meds and botanical estrogens don't send off any alarms.
Oh, and the place where I gave my sample...I am totally going to keep disposable masks on hand for my next one. Yikes.
That chocolate went fast.
4. At least twice this week I've had to correct a parent because I asked their kid a question, even using the kid's name, and the parent answered. I do it in a friendly way, but still. STILL. Control much?
3. This Sunday I'll be attempting the Ghost Town 38.5 for the 2nd time. Last year I tried it, but has some serious, wicked awful ITB syndrome. Seriously. I was spiking an 8 or 9 on the pain scale. I dragged myself into the turnaround, made the cutoff, and then left the course.
Joining me on this is Baboo, who as he stated on his blog recently, is going to--seriously--go as slow as me for every race. Okay, so if we reframe that, he's doing every race with me. This in honor of our tenth year of wedded bliss. Still. I can't imagine that it wouldn't be punishing. I shuffle. I meander. I stop and look at things. I chat with people at aid stations. I stare at rocks on the ground. Dude is in for an interesting year.
2. One other thought from work: There really is no diagnosis called CrazyAsShit, NOS. But there should be. And it would be applied to certain parents, not kids.
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