LilZ and I are in our fancy (and waaaay over-priced) hotel room winding down for the night. I’m still not puking, but I’m feeling a little woozy. I’m hoping it’s nerves and not the bug NikkiZ has. MrZ and I have been touching base all day and she has not gotten any better. This means I’m going to have to do this without him and I’m so sad about that I’m trying not to cry. Knowing he won’t be there for me at the finish line is just heartbreaking.
BUT – My Dad and brother and son and future sister-in-law will all be here. And hopefully even my mom! We’ll see.
Okay – but the highlight of the night? And a TOTAL sign that I’m going to finish tomorrow because it’s the best good luck charm ever? I got stopped at the airport and recognized from my blog! And I was totally freaked out and amazed that it happened (in front of my Dad!) that I totally acted like a totally moron to the lovely girl and kept saying “Thank you!” to everything she said. I was so amazed and flattered and amazed I totally didnt even hear her tell me her name. Are you out there? Will you re-introduce yourself to me? I’m an idiot! I’m sorry!
Anyway – I consider her talking to me one of the best good luck charms I could have asked for. Thank you!
I’m going to bed now. I don’t know if I’ll have time to update in the morning. But – I’m hoping to snap pictures of mile markers along the way and send them to Flickr so if you check back you can see how slow I’m going! And if I quit halfway!
Here goes nothing…I’m beyond terrified…
What would be the MOST AWESOME thing in the world to wake up to less than 24 hours from when I’m supposed to run a marathon? Come on…Guess…
A toddler covered in vomit? EXACTLY!
NikkiZ is sick. They told us at daycare yesterday she had loose poops and there was something “going around” and I said a quick prayer, “Please don’t be sick.” I went to get her up this morning and her hair, face, and sheets were covered in vomit. I said, “Please don’t be sick.” I was just holding her after a bath and she was very lethargic and then she puked all over me.
Now I’m saying, “Please don’t get me sick.”
I dont know what to do. We can’t really drag her out of state if she’s sick, so I think MrZ is going to have to stay home with her. Which means he’ll miss his golf tournament. Which makes him unhappy. But that will be fine as long as I can make it to the finish line tomorrow without puking. I dont mind getting sick – just let it be AFTER my marathon. Please? I’ve worked so hard. My brother and his fiance are flying across the country. My Mom and Dad are meeting me in Nashville, all to see me complete this journey. To finally do what I’ve been working so hard for. Please, Please, Please don’t let me get sick.
Saying that today’s media is to blame for our teen girls’ body image problems is probably an unfair generalization. It is one of the many things that cause the problem, but blaming it all on skinny starlets and starving models is unfair to the teens themselves.
The new Nivea commercial for their anti-cellulite lotion makes me SO FREAKIN’ ANGRY. Have you seen it? There are three WAY TOO SKINNY girls who join some sort of dance-off on the street all while the voice in the background discusses how they can wear those short shorts because of the Nivea anti-cellulite lotion. But they are so skinny there is no way they even know the word cellulite, much less use the lotion. I mean, there are too-skinny girls all over the TV, but these girls are the Eat A SandWich Before You Die type of skinny. It is simply insulting to insinuate that a girl with 4% body fat needs anti-cellulite lotion. Those type of images…those unrealistically skinny woman “needing” anti-cellulite lotion? Those images anger me. What are we telling our daughters with those commercials? That even if we’re 100lbs soaking wet, we still need anti-cellulite lotion? If our daughters are healthy – they’ll look obese next to those women. And if those women are the image of cellulite? How will they see themselves?
I don’t know. It just pisses me off. And I wanted to rant. Thank you.
Since MrZ took this new job (Which he loves, by the way, because it’s more programming which means he is SUCH A GEEK.) he can’t really keep up with my blog. He works 9+ hours a day and is very busy, and what few free minutes he has he prefers to do things like, eat, or go to the bathroom, or some such necessary nonsense that evidently ranks higher than reading what I have to say about our life.
BUT – this is a good thing because I am now free to discuss the horrible things I’m thinking and he won’t know!
So, I have this marathon on Saturday, right? Have I mentioned that? I wasn’t sure if you knew that. Well – we are leaving for Nashville tomorrow so that I can make it to the expo to get my number and chip and such things for the race the next morning. Unfortunately – MrZ has a work golf tournament tomorrow too. Now – one of the things he loves about this new job – is it’s a group working environment so he’s already made a lot of friends. He is really excited about this golf tournament because no one really plays golf. It’s going to be more of a giant goof-off day because no one cares to take it seriously. If there is anything my husband loves? Is giant goof-off days. So – he’s very excited about this.
I was hoping he would be okay leaving early so we could leave town in time to get to the Expo and explore the course. Unfortunately – he offered a solution that involves both of us doing what we want: Take 2 cars.
This is the very logical solution. He can go to his tournament, and I can go to the Expo. Perfect.
BUT – I want him to come WITH me! I don’t want to do it by myself! I’m scared! What if they can tell the second I walk in that I don’t belong? What if they laugh at me? What if I get lost? What if I have to MAKE A LEFT TURN?!?!
I know it’s incredibly stupid of me and really selfish to want him to miss something important to him just so he can hold my hand through something I’m nervous about – but I can’t help it. I still would love it if he would just drop the tournament and offer to support me through the whole night-before-the-marathon jitters.
But – I’m a big girl. I’m sure there will be people there 50 years older and 150 pounds heavier who will look less like they belong than I do. (Of course – they’ll still beat me – but that’s a whole other story right there.) I can do this without him. If I’m faced with a left turn? I’ll just take three rights instead. If I get lost, or confused, or if I end up at the wrong place – I’ll just blame it on the kids somehow. That’s how I’ve survived challenges in the past. That’s what they’re there for, right?