True Confession Thursday: Did I Really Say That?

3 dicey miles (calf/achilles pain)
30 minutes on stair master
Shaky, Stair Steppin’ Strides

Yes people, it’s that fab day of the week again where I embarrass myself tell it like it is.

Things I’ve said this week:

-Seriously, I don’t want your dog poo shoe in my sink.

-Just one more mile.

-Oh hey, here are your hair extensions [hands them over].  FYI, it’s super awkward when someone’s hair extensions fall out.  It’s even more awkward to carry them in your hand.  My response, look like a creepy trashed out streetwalker and just put them in your hair all awkward like.

Rock ‘em, then return them to the rightful owner

-I will pay you a dollar for every fly you kill.  

-Just one more mile.

-No matter what your brother says, you are not a penis head.  I promise. 

-Tonight, let’s have dessert before dinner.

Seriously 5:30 dessert run. Dinner was had a few hours later.

-Just two more miles.

-Oh my goodness it’s soooo cool in here.  What’s it 85 degrees?  Ahhh-maaay-zing!

-Hands out of your pants.

-Can someone bring me toilet paper?  Screamed from upstairs bathroom to kids downstairs.  Met with resounding, “Nooo’s”.  Whoever brings me a roll of toilet paper gets to  be my favorite kid for 1 whole minute.  I suddenly had 3 rolls of toilet paper.

-Dinner?  Uh no, what do you think we actually eat meals in this house?  You want me to cook?

I’ll spare you what my children actually said.  Let’s just say last night’s dinner ended with, “Please, for the love of the land, no penis jokes tonight.”  Okay I won’t spare you.…the dinner was kicked off when I asked Strawberry to “Carry his stuff upstairs” and he grabbed his…well…you get the idea and promptly retorted “Duh Mom, I carried it around all day!“.  *eye roll*

What’s slipped out of your mouth this week that you don’t want to admit?

One Tough Mudder

Miles:      10
Time:      1:19
Pace:       7:54
Dirty strides

I woke up this morning a bundle of nerves.  I was meeting a friend to run…and I never run with anyone.  Did I mention she’s the kind of friend who trains for a marathon the treadmill and then places in the top 25 in the LA Marathon?

Yeah, that kind of friend – the kind that makes my knobby running knees super insecure.

Accidental mud run...who knew?

Started out as a great run and the rain rolled in, which I love.

But wait..let’s back track for a moment.  Before we ran I actually sat in my car with both my trail and street runner shoes in my hand trying to decide which to wear.  I went with the street runners.  Bad call.

We hit the trails (some were not the paved kind, but like actual mud trails, that…well I don’t know, require actual traction on your shoes) and as the rain poured down it got a little muddy.  And a little slippery.

A little interesting fact:  if you google “awkward and gangly” I’m pretty sure my picture shows up in the image index. 

Since my grace clearly knows no bounds *eye roll*, I bit it on an itty bitty hill on the trail and wiped  out.  I was caked in mud.  Felt okay at first and shook  it off (it was a big enough wipeout that my friend even forgot to stop her Garmin…for reals), then decided to cut it a bit shorter as my knees were feeling a bit tender after the fall.

Seriously, clogged tub. Eww. Eww...Nothing says fun like unclogging a muddy drain!

We finished up our 10-miler.  My legs were like lead.  I have no idea what my beef was, but I’ll pretend it was the extra weight from mud and water.  It should not have been that hard.  My friend bestowed her awesomeness onto me with lots of training & race tips.

To clean up, I hit the shower with my clothes on to rinse them off.  And that’s when I remembered….my shower drain was pretty much clogged.  Grrrr.

Nothing says super fun like standing in your cold, wet running clothes unclogging your tub drain.

Good news:  My tub is now unclogged, super clean, and I got a good rain run in.  And as an added bonus, since I tend to spend my discretionary money on entry fees, this was a cheap way to get a rejuvenating mud treatment for my skin.  A girl’s gotta primp somehow.

Bad news:  My ego and knees are a little bruised.