Where's my purse?

Both kids, yes including Cole, have become acquainted with carrying a purse.  Now before you judge, let me explain.  

I lose everything.  I misplace everything.  9 times out of 10 I have no idea where my purse is unless I put it in the exact same place every time.  Im a creature of habit, cant help it.  (Note: This is also why I park on the same row at the grocery store every single time, if I dont Ill roam the parking lot for an hour looking for my car, true story, on more than one occasion)

Anyways, I will ask the kids "Wheres Mommy's purse?" and they go off and point when they find it.  Which brings me to my point.  I guess they got tired of looking for MY purse so they got their own.  Now, by the door, there are 3 purses.  Mine is sitting on the counter or table, its within a foot of each other so I can miss it.  They took over the door knobs.

Proof?

Here is Elyse's Purse, which is holding her keys.  (Wonder where she got that idea?)

And this is Cole's 'purse', which is holding his cup.

At least his is a monkey right?

Wordless Wednesday

Watch your garden grow

I envy people who have a green thumb.  I kill everything.  Bonsai, dead.  Flowers, dead.  Herbs, dead.  Ivy, dead.  Cactus (that I was told CANNOT be killed), dead.  You see my point.

When I started making my list, I thought about some things that would challenge me.  A garden?  Perfect.  If I can get something to bloom, and actually eat it, wow thats an accomplishment for me. 

I bought some seeds.

And planted them in starter soil (my term, not theirs)

Once they budded (Is that a word?), I moved them to the garden.

To my surprise, my seeds grew.

And a little while later, produced this,

And this

The garden is still growing, but I can proudly say I ate what I grew.

I used radishes in a salad, with some cilantro and lettuce that was also grown, and I grilled up some squash for dinner.

I say this is a success, and  my brown thumb is slowly turning green.

Wounded Warrior

So I just realized that I never did a race recap for my second half marathon.  Oops, so here it goes.

I decided to run the Wounded Warrior.  It was the right time, it supports the military and lets face it, the course was flat.  I was determined to beat my previous time from the Rock-N-Roll Half and I figured this was the place to do it.  Boy was I wrong.

Let me start from the beginning.

The night before, I was NOT hungry.  I forced myself to eat because I knew I had to eat.  I drank lots of water and set my clothes out for the next morning.  I dont function well at 430 in the morning and I didnt want to leave anything behind.

I laid down and prepared myself for sleep.  It didnt work too well.  My mind wouldnt stop and I ended up staring at the ceiling until 3AM.

At 430, my alarm went off.  I dressed in the dark, ran into the door, grabbed my breakfast, and stumbled to the car.  Im pretty sure I looked like I was taking the walk of shame in my running clothes.

I drove and met the people I was running with and found that my glove box was jammed.  My watch, my carrier, and my music was in there.  There was no way I would run with no music, I wont make it.  I rammed it open (it now wont close now) and grabbed my stuff.

Adrenaline was pumping, I want to get it over with, I was so tried.  Before the race, we snapped this picture, its the only one  I got from the entire day.

Im tired and groggy but Im ready to go. I find the pacer that I want to stay with and waiting for the race to start.  3....2...1, go and we were off.  I was good the first 2 miles, right on pace and I found my grove.  4 miles clocked in at 38 minutes, still on track.

6 miles, 59 minutes, yea I can do this. 

Then the heat came.  I was getting tired and my stomach was growling.  At mile 7, I ate a GU, at the same time I always do and fast walked to down some water.  Thats when it happened.  I came around the corner and my stomach flipped.  I ran to the bushes and puked.  It was not pretty.  I wiped my mouth, grabbed some more water and took off.  Thats when it went completely down hill.

My toes began to ache, they never ache at mile 8-9.  Then I felt my toenail, in the bottom of my sock.  Disgusting I know.  Thats when the liquid came.  Im was 100% positive my shoe just filled with blood.  This is when I said screw my time and I walked.  I just wanted the whole thing to be over.  I was NOT enjoying myself this run.  I blame the heat and the lack of sleep.

Around mile 11, the 2:20 pacer passed me.  Im not gonna lie, I was a little butt hurt.  I pushed down and fought myself to stay with her.  That lasted about 2 minutes.  I got cramps, I wanted to puke, my socks were soaked. She slowly distanced her self from me.

Thats what it dawned on me.  My time REALLY doesnt matter, I just wanna finish.  At that moment, the music gods shed mercy on my.  Sad but True by Metallica started to play.  I smiled and took off.  I finished, wet socks and all.

My primary goal was to beat my previous time of 2:25.  My seondary goal was to finish in 2:15.  Neither happend, I finished at 2:29:31, but I finished.

On another note, when I got home, my socks were not filled with blood.  Turns out I got a blister on TOP of my toe and it popped.  I got to figure this out before I attempt the full in December or my feet might fall off.

Im in desperate need of a pedicure, this running is killing my toes.

And thats the 'good' foot.

Sad but True.