Nidgery and Badinage

April 2, 2012

I think I have officially restored my honor by running a 5K in the rain on Saturday morning, or at least partially so. It stopped raining about halfway through, but everyone was certainly dripping with a bit o' liquid shine by the end of it. It was great. It was wet. And sunny all at the same time. The azaleas were blooming in so many different colors. The uphills were maddening. The downhills were intoxicating. Sarge cheered for me when I finished. Which, curiously enough, makes me deliriously happy.

Kinda like when he lies and tells me my dry pork tenderloin tastes marvelous.

Holy shit-flinging monkeys, I love that man.

But then I looked at the race results. Didn't bother with it after my 10K, but the link was sitting there on my Facebook news feed, so I figured what the hell, right?

Ok, honestly I don't really care and I'm not sad in the least. But yeah, with a time of 34:23, I came in 182nd. Out of 232. And I came in 19th in my division, which I am assuming is gender/age related. But hey! At least I wasn't last! And I ran the whole thing without stopping! Don't know if that makes it better or worse, though.  I'm sure that's what I get for living in a town stuffed to the gills with soldiers in better shape than I will ever be.

I love seeing the itty bitty chirrins out there running with Mom or Dad. With their itty bitty legs and grins, running without concern for times or splits or competition. The itty bitties run for the simple joy of running, letting go, blazing wild down the street in the rain, unconcerned with their pace or their breathing or passing or being passed. The itty bitties are doing it right.

Sunday afternoon, all four of us walked the MS Walk in our fuckawesome matching T-shirts.  Because we are totally cool enough to pull off matching T-shirts.

Now you can see why I have such a raging Napoleon complex.  Can you believe two of those monsters were actually in my uterus once?  It makes me grateful that my scar doesn't go from my head to my junk. 

 Speaking of itty bitties.  My oldest punk, The Jake, will be running the Cinco de Mayo 5K with me on.... Well.  Cinco de Mayo.

And 20 days after that, Sarge and I are totally official for the Warrior Dash.  It's gonna be dirty.  There is going to be mud and fire involved.  I am going to have to use a shit ton of upper body strength that I do not currently possess.   We are going to laugh.  Sarge will probably curse the day I was born several times before it's all over.   But that is okay.   It won't be the first time I've had a boy chasing me saying "Please!"

Hey, you remember the Divinyls?  You know, that little hottie in thigh-highs rolling all over a bed singing "I touch myself?"  Only one of the greatest songs about self-pleasure ever written, second only to Blister In The Sun.   Either way, I heard today that the hottie in thigh-highs has MS.  Upon hearing this, Sarge replies "She probably touches herself 'cuz she can't feel her legs anymore."  HAHAHA!  Get it?  Get it?  Cuz she has MS?

Nevermind.