Operation: Make Me Insane

Well. It looks like all of the important entries from the server crash this weekend have been recovered as have their comments which is wonderful because I really hated to lose all of the birthday wishes you all left NikkiZ. And MrZ and LilZ hated to hear me bitching about losing them for the last 5 days. Luckily I did actually have a working backup to put into place. I didn’t think I did this weekend because I thought I had deleted it (because I’m an idiot) but I was happy to see I didn’t (because sometimes there’s a break in the idiocy) and was able to replace the missing entries and comments yesterday.

I also now have my TV blog back up and running on WordPress now, instead of Movable Type. You will probably have to re-subscribe to the feeds if you don’t see it anymore. I am very excited about this change because I’ve only used WordPress when making designs and am looking forward to tinkering around with it as a user. If you know any good/fun/geeky plugins I should be using, let me know! I’m a little embarrassed to be using the default design (no offense to its designer, of course) but I don’t have the time right now to get the old one converted from Movable Type to WordPress. I just wanted the site up and running since there is important television to be discussed.

Also? All comments should be accepted immediately on this site now. No more waiting for approval. This also means I no longer have to read comments on my site linking to places swearing to help me with various aspects of my sex life.

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Am I getting old? Or Insane? Hard to tell…

Yesterday, I started waking up around 3am. When I saw how early it was (damn time change) I tried to go back to sleep but it was pointless. I finally got out of bed a little after 4am, which is normally when I’d first start to wake up (damn time change). I don’t remember ever being phased by time changes before, my sleep clock being pretty resilient. But last night? I fell asleep halfway through Heroes (don’t spoil it!) and started waking up around 3:30am. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME. MAKE IT STOP.

Hopefully I can stay up late enough tonight to shift my sleep cycle into reasonable territory. The trick-or-treating and the overdosing-on-candy should help my cause a bit. And hopefully toting around a lobster all night will be enough of a workout to erase the effects of the aforementioned candy eating. Or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself when I inform my family that we’re having Miniature Butterfingers and Candy Corn for dinner.

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It’s official: I’m regressing

I have had many blog-topic tidbits pop into my head lately – and I realized a lot of them seem to be related to Poop. I’ve decided it would be unhealthy to squish these thoughts back into the basement of my mind, so I am now subjecting you all to my poop thought in all of their glory. Just think of it as Bulleted Poop.

  • We saw a bumper sticker the other night that said, “I’m speeding because I really have to poop.” It came complete with a graphic. Of poop. Steaming poop. MrZ is still laughing about it as we speak.
  • One of the chores that have been neglected since having a baby is the Periodic Dog Poop Removal in the backyard. Let’s just say that our grass seems to be thriving under these conditions. Evidently that’s the secret: Let three dogs crap all over your yard all season and enjoy the lush grass that grows as a result. Of course, you can’t really enjoy the grass without stepping in the poop…maybe the idea is not that great.
  • Sometimes, when you research information about training for marathons, you stumble upon phrases like Runner’s Trots and your outlook will never be the same again.
  • Now that NikkiZ is eating more solid food than she is nursing, her diapers are toxic. I’ll leave it at that except to say that daycare is worth it when I am only changing less than a third of those diapers a week.

You’re never coming back here, are you?

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Thoughts on Running from the Non-Runner: Proving Couch Potatoes Can Run Too

I don’t listen to music when I run. I don’t have a running partner to talk to. It’s just me inside my own head for mile on top of mile. MrZ swears that he can’t run without his iPod because he gets “bored.” I explain to him that spending an hour or more alone in my head is one of the perks of my long runs. A luxury I don’t have in my daily life: time with myself. I use this time to map out personal goals, ponder the universe, contemplate the meaning of life, and to write introspective blog entries to bore my readers with. This is one that I composed during my 10-mile run on Saturday.

There are three elements that come into play when I’m planning for my Sunday long runs. The first is Physical: Bones, Muscles, and Joints. This is the least inhibiting of the three, if you can believe it. See – when you run as slow as I do (my distance running pace is 12+ minutes/mile), and have as short of a stride, the impact of running isn’t much more on my body than walking would be. My joints and muscles don’t hurt any more by running than they would by walking. Some call it slow, I call it BRILLIANT.

The second element is Endurance: Heart and Lungs. Ten years of unhealthy lifestyle choices (I was in college!) made my heart and lungs a little slow to catch up with my muscles and joints. This would be the second toughest hurdle in my training. Even though I run slow, I can’t carry on conversation without having a heart attack. When I get to my walk/water stops – I sound like I’ve been sprinting based on my heavy breathing. I have learned to breathe slow and steady – which helps immensely – but it’s still a very limiting factor in my distance running.

This most debilitating element in my training is Psychological: The Mind. When I started considering training for a marathon, I just assumed that somewhere along the way I’d become a Runner. I knew that there was no way that Zoot, in her current version, could run a marathon. So – during the training, surely Zoot would trade in her Diet Coke for Gatorade and the transformation would be complete.

The fact that this has not happened yet? Makes me question my abilities. With each long run, I think to myself – “I can’t do that. I’m not a runner.”

I am slowly learning that I don’t have to become someone different in order to be running. I don’t have to trade in my TV Guide for Women’s Health. I don’t have to switch my Krispy Kremes for granola. I can still come home from a mid-week short run and veg on the couch for the next three hours watching crappy television. I’m learning that someone who has a TV blog can still run.

I’m sure that if I changed those other aspects of my life I could be a better runner, but for right now? That’s not the point. The point is to just do it. I just want to get out there and be doing something good for my body. If I try to convince myself I have to make other changes, it all becomes too daunting. Knowing I can still have my cake and running shoes too, makes this change seem possible. I’m not going to win any races eating my weight in bean dip the night before, but knowing I don’t have to deprive myself of that delight, makes it easier to at least finish the race the next day.

I guess it has just been enlightening to realize that someone who eats doughnuts and hates the taste of water can run 10 miles. I’m breaking barriers here, people – I’m going run marathons for the TV addicts everywhere. Care to join me?

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Best laid plans of toddler parents…

So far, with this running nonsense I’ve been doing, I’ve completed my long runs without much pain to follow. However, there was some brilliant side of me that thought ending a 10-run with a huge downhill stretch would be AWESOME. That part did not consider the fact that I’d have to run a huge uphill right before – and where that uphill stretch might have been fine around mile 1 or 2? Not so much around mile 8 or 9. I hurt like hell today. LIKE HELL.

There have been many times in my life I’ve realized I’m no genius. There was the time I exclaimed, “New Orleans is a big state!” for one thing. That one will always serve as a reminder.

Another time happened recently when my mother-in-law offered to take us all to Disney on Ice. Of course, I wanted to see Disney on Ice and told her we’d definitely love to go. I’ve seen Sesame Street on ice (a million years ago) but never Disney and I was very excited. The not-so-smart element was me thinking NikkiZ would tolerate the event for more than five minutes.

Yesterday was the big event and I was very excited. NikkiZ however? Not so much. She liked the first ten minutes as she just stared at the rink like, “What in the HELL is going on down there?” She was also happy eating a giant pretzel. After about 2 acts? She was doing what I call the “Nurnee Lean” which means she wants boobs and she wants them NOW. I did add Disney On Ice to my list of Awkward Places I’ve Nursed My Child, but that only satisfied her for about 10 minutes.

We spent the next hour circling the arena with all of the other parents of bored children. It was a nice little community in the trenches by the souvenir stands and hot dog vendors. I felt like we were a type of support group of Parents of Restless Kids Not Yet Mesmerized By Disney. Eventually, NikkiZ really wanted to crawl around so I took her outside to avoid having her permanently stuck to the coke and popcorn residue on the arena floor. That is where I learned that my purse is much more fun than I realized – and we had a good time playing in the grass until MrZ came out to get us home before the exodus began.

Next time though, next time I’m either taking a child who will be entertained by the ice-skating Mulan, or I’m going without her. And I’m buying myself a snow cone.

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