A couple months ago, in a momentary lapse of judgment, I signed up for the LA Rock & Roll Half Marathon. I hadn't run since the 90s and really had no business signing up for a race of any sort - let alone one with the word marathon in it.*
What were you thinkin', Ma?
But the power of the cult, er Crossfit Ganbatte, sucked me and le huz in. For two months, we trained alongside fellow Crossfit crazies under the guidance of our uber-supportive leader, JP. I ran every Tuesday, most Thursdays and even a couple of Sundays. I went from not being able to run a single lap around the Silver Lake Reservoir to speeding around the darn thing three times in an hour and two minutes.** As race day approached, I felt confident that I could tackle the darn thing - with a respectable time, no less. I was going to make everyone proud!
Yes, well, race day was yesterday. ***
And yes, we finished. The huz did great. But my finish was not the one I'd hoped for. In my mind, I'd replayed that final stretch as a triumphant one. Queen's "We Are the Champions" was going to blast in the final yard, and I was to gun down that home stretch in slow-mo, clocking in at JP's prescribed time of 2:05.
That did not happen. My knee went to shit at the 8 mile mark, and by mile 9, not only was I no longer running, I was hobbling. Like a cripple. As fellow runners sped by, I experienced a tsunami of disappointment. But quitting simply wasn't an option. I didn't want to disappoint my husband, my baby, my cult...**** So I bit my lip and walked.
I finished the race in 2:37.
My hubby is proud of me for finishing. My munchkin seems grateful for her new chew toys. I can wallow in a state of could've-would've-should've, but what good would that do?
For me? Why thank you.
Taking advice from Hova himself tonight. Gotta get that dirt of my shoulder. Could you brush it off for me?
* I did not run a full marathon. I ran a half marathon. But don't belittle my accomplishment. 13.1 miles is pretty effin' far.
** One lap around Silver Lake Reservoir is 2.2 miles. Three laps is 6.6 miles. And 6.6 miles is a distance greater than 10K.
*** Sir Weber, me and le huz. Photo taken before we began our run. Explains why we all look funky fresh.
**** Correction. Crossfit is not a cult. It's cult-LIKE.
Our lil' family, accompanied by my pals Jeff and Alexis, hit up Mr. Bones Pumpkin Patch in West Hollywood last night and found a pumpkin as grumpy as Olive. All he needs now are a pair of expressive eyes...
A totes-fab Glamour Shot session went down in Burbank last night. While Alexis and her handsome malamute, Napoleon, channeled Kate Moss and Cindy Crawford, my talented friend Jeff channeled his inner Mario Testino and clicked away. I had the fun job of art directing the classy shoot. A poor man's Grace Coddington, if you will. We were going for a midnight snack theme. Have a sneak-peek! Thoughts? Like a John Currin painting, no? We had so much fun... Much more to come.
Casseroles tend to look like vomit. A tad unfortunate, seeing that they're often pretty damn tasty. Here. Have a peek at my Moleskin. I spent the afternoon pouring my brains into it. (I was feeling kinda hungry.) Looking like quite the casserole, eh?
olive, le cub and i left for our much-anticipated maine trip early last week and made our bittersweet return home yesterday. maine was everything we imagined it would be - but better.
gorgeous scenery at cape elizabeth...
delicious seafood at the lobster shack...
outrageously fluffy doughnuts at congdon's doughnuts...
super-moist whoopie pies, friendly white folks wearing barbour, the antique version of everything you see at restoration hardware, ridiculously gorgeous homes, fresh air... yes, i could go on.
we enjoyed our stay so much so that le cub and i began talking crazy like, "babe, let's make a tradition of this. we can bring olive out here once a year!" only, neither of us were actually talking crazy. we were both being serious. olive may not get a chance to grow up in a small town (due to her parents' love of convenience and fear of being bored), but she sure as hell deserves a chance to chill out one once a year in a wide-open green space where she can enjoy the change of season, learn to ride a cruiser, row a frickin' kayak, throw an authentic lobster bake, snuggle up indoors and watch "ghostbusters" on dvd when it's raining outside... we did that.
happy to be back home with beans, but sad to have left a truly beautiful place. (am also sad that le cub had to fly out morning to get back to work). more about our trip to come!