Runner Poser

Monday, I started week four of training for this.

Some of you might recognize RAGNAR, because you have put yourself through the same torture as I am going through. Let me explain.

I am not a runner.

I have some speed, which came in handy for high school tennis, or sprinting away from brothers, cousins, and other villains, but distance is not my long suit. This being said, I am trying to become a "runner poser" A.K.A. someone who runs a lot and pretends to like it but really doesn't. I have heard there are people born into this world who actually enjoy running. While this idea is completely foreign to me, I have accepted it as truth.

Exhibit A:

These little fellas from Kenya were born running. They popped out the of the womb and were off, training for a marathon. In fact, no training necessary, they have the goods and just need to register.

Anyway, I am not of Kenyan decent, and although I have some impressive runners in my ancestry, I'm pretty sure none of them ever "loved" to run.

Fact or fiction, some people get a kick out of running.

I run for the same reason I gag down oatmeal on a regular basis. I know it's good for me. This year, my goal is to run RAGNAR as well as a half marathon. I'm not going to pretend to run a full marathon because... well... I just don't care that much.

Through my schooling and other experiences, I'm pretty sure about 15% of the population can handle a marathon, and the rest are just hashing their bodies. It's my personal opinion backed by four years of university studies of the body and exercise- nothing more.

So tomorrow I will condition, and then Friday I will be back on the treadmill, because it is so cold in I.F. that my tears froze on my face yesterday when I attempted an outside jaunt.

Anyone else have an opinion on running?

It's Vintage.

What's the haps with us? I'll tell you.

This week was Travis' birthday.

I'm not going to list 29 reasons why I love him because that's just not my style.

I married him and had babies with him, so isn't it safe to assume I think he's the cheese to my quesadilla?

Yep.

Travis shares his birthday with his two sisters, whose birthdays are 2 days before. So his mom had Travis on the 10th, 2 years later had Kristen on the 8th, and then 7 years later had Annette on the 8th too. They share. I'm sure it sucked when they were kids, but these days we have "birthday WEEKS" for them, and the phrase "Well, it's my birthday." is common during the whole week, not only the day of.

Kristen and Annette: I love you like a fat kid loves cake. Thanks for running 3 freezing miles with me this weekend.

Ding-dong. Woof. Bear. Whah?

A few days ago we visited one of our favorite vintage shops (a.k.a. the D.I.) and scored two awesome coats for me. Here's one:That's right, soft leather goodness for $12.00! I love when I find D.I. treasures. Eric and Jana are the reigning king and queen of D.I. but I'm slowly gathering.

When you make a purchase at the D.I. you have full right to say "It's vintage" when you are asked about it, right? It's old, previously owned/used and you bought it. Definitely constitutes "vintage" for me.

Then on Wednesday Clark bumped his little noggin for the billionth time. Walking has proved to be hard on the skull. So he smacked into his doorway full-frontal right in the middle of his forehead and then fell down at the bottom of the stairs and got this little number:

There you have it. The haps.