Marine Corps Marathon

This past weekend was my fourth marathon - the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington D.C.
I’ve been putting off this blog entry, I just had so much to do once we got back, but here it is. It’s long-winded, and not too amusing. I mostly wrote it so that I could remember all those little detals about the run. My only time to write is generally after everyone else has gone to bed, and since I’m tired myself, I’ve skimped on the proofreading. Feel free to skim or ignore entirely!
I was raising money for the Fisher House for this marathon, and so the night before the marathon we went to the team pasta dinner. I was standing in line with Riley, loading up on penne and marinara, and I heard screaching coming from the other buffet table. I found myself thinking “Wow, that’s a loud kid, sure glad Brian has Jackson under control.”
Uh, well, no. That was Jackson. I looked over to find him running in circles and yelling while Brian precariously balanced 2 plates with one hand and tried to catch Jax with the other on one of his numerous laps around Brian’s legs.
Anyway, we had a very interesting dinner. I got to meet some fellow runners and fundraisers, and some of them raised a TON of money. One guy at our table had raised almost $9,000... and he was injured, and not even running!
The next morning we scooped the kids into their carseats, and Brian took me to the metro station at 6AM. After trying to decipher the intricacies of the smartcard machine, consulting with the attentant, trying to figure the machine out again, extracting the attendant from his booth and finally making it onto the metro... I met a slew of other marathoners, all as bleary eyed and caffeine deprived as I was.
The Marine Corps Marathon had a very strange set-up. I could get off at the first metro stop, venture to the “Runner’s Village” where there were port-a-potties, bagels and UPS trucks where you could check a gear bag to be transported to the finish line. But then I would have to either get back on the metro and go to the second metro stop for the start, or walk the half mile to the start. And although it seems petty to quibble over an extra half mile when I’m about to run a marathon... it’s AN EXTRA HALF MILE WHEN I’M ABOUT TO RUN A MARATHON! So, I opted to just head straight to the start. It was a chilly morning, so I had a layer of disposable clothing on over my running clothes, and I was planning on shedding layers as the race progressed.
As I got off the metro found my way to the start I did begin to have reservations about one conspicuously absent feature... portapotties. I found myself wandering along the start corals, growing increasingly panicked... until I finally found them back at the 6 hour corral.
Anyway, back at my own corral with an hour ‘til the start, I hopped around for a bit, trying to warm up. Then remembered that I may want to conserve my energy, and headed to the side to consume a gu, and wish I’d brought some water (next time I’ll know better). Mostly I just watched all the other marathoners, eavesdropped on their conversations and waited for the start. With about 20 minutes to go, I shed by sweatpants (ones I think I’ve owned since high school).
I did run into another doc from work - one of the pediatricians. I had remembered he was running, but what are the odds of running into someone when there’s 30,000+ waiting for the start.
As time for the race to start approached, the marines presented the flag, played the national anthem and provided fly-bys from several types of air frames. The coolest was the “Osprey” - the one with two propellars that can be like a helicopter or an airplane...
It was a gorgeous morning, and the start of the run was through a beautiful stretch of roads with tall trees and leaves that were starting to turn orange and yellow. Which brings up another question about marathons. There’s were tons of portapotties at the runner’s village and at the start. So, why do vast numbers of men have to scurry off to the side of the road to pee within the first 5 miles? Really. That’s just poor planning.
One of my favorite views of the race was just after mile 3, we ran over the Key Bridge. There was fog coming off of the Potomac and it blanketed Georgetown University. The only visible structures were the very tops of some buildings and 2 spires rising above the fog. It was gorgeous. Then we turned onto a road that paralleled the Potomac. There were trees arching overhead, a low stone wall along the road and we were running through the fog and mist.
As I was enjoying all this scenery, I glanced over to my right... and saw a line of heads bobbing above the picturesque stone wall... heading at about a 30 degree angle up the side of this apparent mountain we were running on. Great.
The next few miles were up and down - and I really haven’t figured out how to run even splits when you’re on hills. I’d try and keep my effort stable, and so my pace would swing from 8:30 one mile to 7:54 the next.
Then we swept past the Lincoln Memorial and ran along the East Potomac Park and Golf Course. Also very pretty, but not a lot of crowd support.
This brought us to mile 16, and the National Mall. There were tons of spectators and lots of crowd support. And most importantly, it was were I planned on meeting Brian, Riley and Jackson. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to pick them out from the crowd, so when I finally did see them I was ecstatic. This is always the point at which Brian takes a picture, so instead of looking cool and tough, I always look a bit silly and overly enthusiastic. I waved with both hands, and ran over for hugs from the kids, then was off again. By this point, my right knee was also starting to bother me, which is more problematic not because it hurts, but because I worry about what it could mean (torn meniscus? ileotibial band syndrome?). But I motored on. I didn’t really meet anyone to chat with along the course, but there were lots of characters. One guy was wearing a shirt that he had scrawled “Run Forrest Run” on the front. So for the next 2 miles I got to hear that chanted over and over again as random spectators decided it was so funny that they had to read it back to the guy. It’s got old fast. Of course, this was the same guy that would charge at particularly quiet portions of the crowd, wave his arms about over his head and shout “COME ON! YELL! WE NEED YOU!” I suppose to elicit more crowd support. But all I could think was... “You’re going to need that energy in a couple of miles... are you nuts?”
We ran in front of the capital building, and swung around to the other side of the mall. Brian and the kids were going to walk back across to see me again. So when I ran past the food station handing out Sport jelly beans I grabbed an extra pack so I’d have one for each kid. I tried to grab the pink ones, but missed, and I think I accidentally wound up grabbing the caffeinated ones. I then handed them off to Riley when I passed them again in front of the Smithsonian. I didn’t stop to chat this time, it was about mile 18, and I was getting to that point in the race where I worry that if I stop I may not start again. So I just shoved both the packs into Riley’s hands, and hoped that she’d 1)share with Jackson (she did , of course) 2) not be upset that I didn’t pause to lean down and give her a hug and 3) not get too revved on the caffeine.
After the mall we ran through a street festival area called Crystal City. I suppose I would have enjoyed this part more, but it was an out and back part of the course. I truly dislike out and back parts. I spend the whole time out thinking “Oh, man, where’s the end? Do I really have to turn around and come back all this way?” Then on the way back I find myself thinking “Wow, do I look that tired?”. After this it all got very nebulous. I think I heard people complaining about the desolate stretches of highway and the lack of crowd support, but it was all a blur. And honestly, I find spectators at this stage of the marathon just make me irritable. How many times do I have to hear “Only 2 more miles! You’re almost there!” from perky people on the sideline standing with their fuzzy sweatshirts and morning coffee. I KNOW EXACTLY HOW MANY MILES ARE LEFT, AND NO I’M NOT ALMOST THERE. I’LL BE ALMOST THERE WHEN I CAN SEE THE FINISH LINE. THIS IS NOT ALMOST THERE. THIS IS THE HARDEST PART!
I really do know they’re trying to be helpful, and I appreciate it now, but I really appreciate very little between miles 20 and 25. I don’t know what I would rather them say.....
Finally, we made it - mile 26. The trick with the Marine Corps Marathon is that the final 0.2 miles are up the hill to the Iwo Jima memorial. Everyone complains about it, but really, it’s so close to the end, that I wasn’t particularly bothered. I crossed the finish line at 3:49 and change. I would have liked to go faster, but it was such an enjoyable run that I don’t mind the slow time.
After crossing the finish line, there were tons of marines there to put the medal on my neck, and distribute water and powerade. I ventured over to have my picture taken in front of the memorial with my medal, and then sought out the Team Fisher House Tent where my family was waiting. This was one of the nicest things about running with a charity team. They had a tent with bagels, coffee, hot cocoa (which is as good a recovery drink as chocolate milk in a pinch) and massage therapists. I found the family. Brian and Riley gave me congratulatory hugs, and Jackson was asleep in his stroller. We lounged about and consumed some carbs before heading off to the finisher’s festival. In retrospect, next time we’ll skip the finisher’s festival, but we thought it would be the closest metro stop, and I do like to soak up every aspect of the marathon festivities. Really, I love the expo, I love comraderie of the pre-race start corral, I love punching the start button as I cross the timing mat, I love all the cheering and bell ringing along the way (except for miles 20-25), I love crossing the finish line, smiling for the finish line camera and then punching the stop button on my GPS (26.44 miles this time... I think that’s my shortest marathon yet). Then I also love all the festivities at the end - all the food and expecially all the free stuff at the sponsor booths.
We treked through the massive crowds until we found an ominously long line of people emanating from the general direction of the metro stop. Yes, this was the line to get into the metro station. It was crazy. I think we waited for about an hour to get into the metro station. Of course, this was compounded in complexity by Jackson decided he HAD TO GO POTTY just as we were nearing the end of the line. I don’t get it, he has no issues with being wet when he’s in underwear, but put him in a pull-up (as he was for the marathon, especially because of the lack of easily accessable potty facilities) and suddenly he must only pee in a potty. We try to tell him just to wait, but it is clear from the panicked look on his face that he can’t. We’ve been working so hard to get him to tell us when he needs to go potty, that I couldn’t just tell him to pee in his diaper. So, I scooped him out of the stoller and wend in search of a potty. There was an office building nearby with a couple of restaurants, and I figured they had to have some facilites inside. I was a little worried that someone would chastize me for venturing into an off-limits area, but hey, a 2 year old boy screaming “I GOTTA POTTY” over and over is like an instant backstage pass. Once we did find a potty (with a line down the hall) it even got us ahead of everyone. (Thank you, thank you thank you to the nice blonde lady at the front of the line!)
After our mission was accomplished, I headed back out to the massive metro line to try and find Brian. It was a miracle that I did - since in the crush of the post race frenzy to the metro he couldn’t hear the cell phone I was calling. And we all finally made it onto the metro and back to my friend’s house in Alexandria.
It was a great run, and I think I may actually do it again next year!

Taller than it looked

For all his bluster, Jackson is not exactly adventurous. We had corralled the kids into the car and headed over to Destin Commons for a festival that was raising funds for Riley’s school. There were arts and crafts booths and bouncies for the kids. Riley is an old pro at the bouncies, and zips up and down them with barely a second thought (although, this was definitely not always the case!). I keep forgetting the Jackson’s bark is worse than is bite, and so after a few successful laps on the little slide, I let him go up the big one with Riley. It was very cute watching her help him up, holding his hand the whole way. Once they got to the top, though, it was every kid for herself. Riley was so excited to slide down, the she left Jackson at the top.
And the more Jackson looked at the slide and thought about his prior experiences with gravity, the less convinced he was that this was a good idea. He kept wandering back to the way he came up, but apparently that looked scary from the top, too.
After a tense few minutes, the teenager working the slide scrambled to the top (she actually needed very little encouragement, I suspect she’d been itching for an excuse to get to slide down herself) and tried to talk Jackson into going down the slide. Jax, however, looked upon this as an opportunity to talk the teenager into carrying him back down the steps.
No dice. This was apparently one no-nonsense teenager, and she was not about to give up her chance to slide to the bottom for one little 2 year old (squirmy, slobbery and possibly wet on the bottom half, too... can’t blame her for not wanting to get too close). She deftly flipped him to his belly and dropped him down the slide to Jackson’s shouts of protest... which morphed into shouts of “Do it again!” in the 2 seconds it took for him to get to the bottom.
Hmm. So THAT’s why the ride said 3 and up...

Taper time

We’re approaching the final 2 weeks before the marathon that I totally dread. It’s the taper. For those who don’t enjoy running, it may seem strange to be reluctant about giving up those 18, 19 and 20 mile runs, but as I stare into this abyss of 2 weeks of progressively less and less running I get a little panicky. It is somewhat about not getting to eat as much peanut butter (with powdered hot cocoa mix stirred in, yum), but also about the gaping hole in my day that used to be filled with activity. Fortunately, this gaping hole is placed at about 430 am, so I can sometimes sleep through it, but still.
I took Skoshi out for a trail run - 6 miles - a smidgen of what I was running. I took advantage of this opportunity to try out the new Trailguru (GPS mapping program) on my iPhone. Unfortunately, this only is able to track me when I carry it flat, in my palm, facing upwards. Oh well, it’s not like it’s a long run or anything, so I complied. I figured I only had to do this once, and then I could use the data to construct maps of my favorite trails on the mapmyrun program and then wouldn’t need to have my gps with me at all for future trail runs, since I could just click on whatever trail run I’d done from the stored maps. (yes, the taper madness has begun).
Anyway, I also took the opportunity of snapping a shot of my favorite place to run to. This is the end of Rocky Bayou, our house and the state park are to the left, the hilly part of town is to the right, and Skoshi is smack dab in the middle. It’s her favorite place, too.

Another one down

Riley’s 4th tooth has been getting wigglier and wigglier. I could have sworn she was going to loose it at school, but lo it was there when she got home. Of course, since Brian was sitting in the backyard, that tooth didn’t even make it into the house. (okay, okay, Brian is reading over my shoulder, so as he pointed out, technically the tooth did go into the house to get a tissue to sop up any ensuing blood, and then Brian pulled it)
And so now she’s got a gap the size of Alaska in her smile.
And her second sentence after the loss of this tooth was...
“You know, Mom, it’th thorta hard to talk.”
So, this tooth was lost on a Friday, the one day of the week that Brian and I are most exhausted. Also, I had a sorta early run in the morning...
Basically there were lots and lots of reasons... but the Tooth Fairy forgot.
I remembered about 5 miles into my run. I was running down John Sims Highway with Hilary, telling about Riley’s tooth, when suddenly (after some choice cuss words) I whipped my iphone out of my waterbelt and speed dialed Brian.... about 30 minutes too late.
So, we’ve come up with a couple of hypotheses for the Tooth Fairy’s lapse. Brian mentioned that since the tooth was wrapped in a tissue in the pocket of the tooth pillow and then placed under the pillow that Riley’s head was on, it’s conceivable that the Tooth Fairy did not actually forget, but just couldn’t find it (this was Brian’s explanation). I hypothesized that since I fell asleep with Riley while we were reading (half way through our first book and with the light still on, even), it’s possible that the Tooth Fairy really did stop by, but was perplexed by my own complete complement of teeth and flittered away.
Whatever reason, the Tooth Fairy was sure to remember the next night.

That Y Chromosome

I truly would like to believe that Brian and I have done our best to raise Jackson and Riley in a similar fashion. I’m not sure, then how to explain Jackson sometimes. In the picture above, I came across him playing with a T-Rex and a little yellow lizard. The lizard was shrieking in terror while T-rex was growling and saying “I’m gonna eat you.” Then he crammed the little lizard into the mouth of the T-Rex.
It’s not like I gave him these 2 toys, either. We were at a birthday party, and Jackson rooted among all the dolls and trucks to find the dinosaurs. And it’s not like he even has to find the scary toys. Last week he was eating Kashi wheat bites at breakfast, one in each hand. Each wheat bite was taking turns shrieking “No! No!” in Jackson’s high pitched pretend voice before it was devoured as Jackson laughed maniacally.
Someone please tell me this is normal.

Kindergarten Picasso

Friday, October 10, 2008

Riley’s got a great art teacher. Frankly, I was shocked (but thrilled) that an elementary school even had a dedicated art teacher. Fortunately her art class coincides perfectly with my Friday afternoon off from work, so I get to help out. It’s great because it gives me a greater understanding for Riley’s stories about her classmates, and I am endlessly impressed with her art teacher’s creativity in coming up with new art projects (Jackson Pollack’s “Action Painting” for second graders) and her sheer gutsiness in tackling messy projects (Jackson Pollack’s “Action Painting” for second graders).
At first I wasn’t sure how she was going to approach cubism for Riley’s kindergarten class, and then I was somewhat apprehensive when she mentioned they were going to be painting cubist shapes (rectangles, squares, triangles... and if you’re a 5 year old girl, pink hearts) on their faces. But sure enough, mirrors were distributed to each and every kindergartener along with a q-tip (they only got one) and a small dollop of paint (my job was distributing dollops, I kept a bottle of pink in one hand and then whatever other color was being requested in the other. Although I kept trying to put the pink bottle down, I no sooner did than it was requested by yet another kindergartener. One little girl requested no other color but pink, and spent the entire half hour painstaking covering every square inch of her face with pink hearts.).
I was quite pleasantly surprised with the industriousness of the kids. Each one applied themselves diligently into creating their own masterpiece. Riley even tried to copy her planned drawing (see above picture, her face plan is sitting in front of her).

The Camping Trip

Brian and I have been itching to take the kids camping again. The hot weather broke a couple of weeks ago, and so we finally jumped at the chance.

We started looking around at possible camp sites, and finally took the easy way out. We reserved a spot at the state park about 3 minutes from home. We figured that braving a night in a tent with Jackson was enough adventure, we didn't need to bookend it with lengthy car trips.

So, Saturday I got up at 6ish for a 630 run with Hilary, Misty and Sarah. Hilary was doing 20 miles, but the rest of us only had to do 12, so we started a little late to allow Hil to get a few miles done first so that she could have company in the middle. Good run.

Made it home at 820ish and after my requisite coffee and chocolate milk, headed with the family to "Dog Daze" - the annual dog festival in Fort Walton Beach. We were taking Skoshi with us, and meeting another family there (I'm a dog-pusher. The mom of the family wants a dog, dad is not entirely crazy about the idea... so I take every opportunity to expose them to adoptable rescue dogs and email pictures of potential candidates. I'm really bad, I know.) It was fun, the kids got tired out and I wound up having to drag Jackson away kicking and screaming (he was a little over tired, and liked the monkey bars).

After a much needed nap (for Jackson only, though. I needed one too, but had to pack up for the camping trip), we all headed down the street to our campsite. The place was packed, but our place was reasonably secluded, although with no water view. We set up the tent and unloaded the car. We were careful to tell the kids that they had to take their shoes off before going into the tent.

We went on a nature hike on some of the trails, and quickly settled into a walking pattern. Brian and Riley walk ahead, and I stay behind trying to shoo Jackson along. For some reason, he decided it was fun to kick whatever dirt/sand/rocks/leaves we were walking over, and listen to the sound it made. It made for very slow going - "step, swoosh.... step, swoosh..." He's also fascinated with squirrels, and must veer off to investigate any nearby sound in the event that it may actually be a "baby squirrel?" lurking nearby. Oh, and he's fascinated by rocks, leaves, acorns, bugs... anything he can pick up and stash in his pocket and then forget about until I hear it clanking around in the dryer 2 days later (and this annoying trait is one that they apparently won't grow out of, Riley did it the entire walk, too, but she is also compelled to soliloquize about the virtues and possible secret life of every rock/leaf/acorn she finds (she won't go near the bugs). Actually, now that I think about it, Brian STILL does this, only it's generally receipts, coins and flight-line earplugs that multiply in his pockets).

It was a nice walk. And I'm so glad Jackson is there to make sure I don't miss a single spider web or ant hill. Eventually I tried carrying him in order to speed things along, but he can only put up with my goal-directed pace for a couple of minutes before he must climb down to collect some compelling stick or climb a nearby tree stump. So, after an hour's walk on a 20 minute trail we made it back to the campsite. I set about constructing a campfire and Brian headed back to the house to let Skoshi out for a potty break (we decided that 2 kids was enough camping adventure for the night and scampering through other peoples campsites would definitely been on Skoshi's agenda) and collect one or two things we'd forgotten. Riley is nothing if not helpful, and so she set about collecting every single pine needle she could lay her hands on and carry them back by the handful to throw in the vicinity of the firepit. And Jackson, while not generally helpful, will copy whatever Riley says or does. So Riley would throw a handful of pineneedles and Jackson would throw a handful of dirt.

After the blaze was flickering along nicely and both children were admonished that fire was very hot and they would immediately be sent to time out if they got too close, I set about getting dinner ready (we were having corn on the cob and Tofurkey veggie brats (no snickering and gagging until you've tried them!). I had previously also admonished both children that they were to remove their shoes prior to going into the tent. Riley can be counted on to follow rules to the letter. Jackson.... not so much. So you can imagine my surprise when I looked over and he was actually taking off of his shoes prior to going into the tent. Unfortunately, he took of his shoes (and socks) by the fire, then walked gingerly over to the tent - on his heels. You could almost see the thoughts telegraphing across his face, "This is weird, and not so comfortable, but Mom said to take off my shoes..." He was a little perplexed when I shouted at him to wait, but went into the tent anyway, traipsing much debris as he could manage to stick to the bottom of his feet in with him. Well, I suppose I should at least be grateful that he actually listened to me and attempted to follow my directions. When I called him back out of the tent, he also complied. Walking all the way back across the campsite on his bare heels. It's hard not to laugh.

We then gathered around the campfire, and Jackson did what any other 21st century 2 year old would do... he sang Happy Birthday over and over again (off key). I suppose birthday candles are really the only time he ever sees fire, so it sort of makes sense. We then ate our dinner of veggie dogs and corn-on-the-cob (with butter - one of the things Brian had gone home to retrieve). Then came the kids favorite part of the entire trip - the smores. Riley is very careful when she roasts marshmallows, and is quite proud of the fact that she does not set her marshmallow on fire (like mom and dad did). Unfortunately, this means her marshmallow is often undercooked and doesn't squish well - but to each their own. Jackson doesn't care, he just eats/wears whatever condition of s'more he's given - and he's not allowed to roast his own marshmallow. I don't even want to think about the flaming mess of goo that would result. After traipsing to the bathroom for one more potty break, toothbrushing and face washing, we convinced the kids to climb into their sleeping bags. Riley was thrilled to comply, as she had received a princess sleeping bag for her birthday and was eager to try it out. Jackson, on the other hand, is absolutely allergic to any and all coverings while he sleeps. It's very strange. He will wake up crying because he's cold, but as soon as I put a blanket on him he shrieks "NO GIKI! NO GIKI!" (giki in Jacksonspeak means blanket) like he's been scalded. The state park is much louder than I thought it would be, and after telling stories and singing a song or two, it took a while for the kids to settle down. Brian eventually fell asleep, too, but I was still wide awake, listening to the cars going over the Rocky Bayou Bridge and the teenagers cussing as they wandered down the road by the campsite. Fortunately, I had my iPhone with me, and so I could check email and price running gear all in the middle of the woods!

After sleeping fitfully all night (Brian and I agreed - only kids can sleep on the ground and actually sleep), I got up at 6 for an easy 6 miles with Misty. It was a nice pace run - we managed about 8:04 for the duration. Afterwards, I gathered up my clothes and headed to the showers for a makeshift babywipe shower. I'd forgotten a towel and soap, so it was very make-shift... but babywipes work wonders. Once I made it back to the tent, everyone was up and dressed. We ate our breakfast of Kashi and yogurt (we're not such diehard campers that we can bring ourselves to make ANOTHER campfire in the morning. Although Jackson kept wandering back over to the firepit to shout "MORE HAPPY BIRTHDAY? MORE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU PLEASE?") We ventured to the playground (where we met another family that lives in Bluewater and goes camping at the state park on a regular basis... Apparently, 3 minutes from home is enough adventure for their preschoolers, too. It was fun, but who knows when we'll get to do it again - we're booked until mid-December!

I'm playing stay-at-home mom for the next 48 hours.  This was much easier when the rigor of  a public school schedule was not involved.  This morning, Brian took Jackson to preschool and just left for his Air Force Reserves from there.  I had Riley for the next 45 minutes before we had to walk to school, so we finished getting ready, looked for a family for her dollhouse on the internet, played on the piano, played in the dollhouse, and then I realized suddenly we were running a tad late.  Not very late, but just maybe a couple of minutes.  I tossed Riley's lunchbox and folder in her backpack and drug her out the door to make it to school before the bell rang.  We went out the back door, and I left Skoshi inside, because she has issues with separation anxiety, and often when I leave her at home, I look back to see her forlornly leaping vertically to catch a glimpse of us over the top of the fence.  So, it was out the back door, out the gate and off to school at a trot.  We had just made it to the crosswalk when I heard an ominous "JINGLE-POUNCE--JINGLE,JINGLE-POUNCE" and turned to find Skoshi bounding behind us with tongue and ears flapping in the air and that "I'M FREE! I'M FREE!" glint in her eyes.  I'm sure you can appreciate that the added chaos of a frantically bouncing dog zipping into and out of traffic is not appreciated by anyone in the last few minutes of drop-off time... least of all by the mom in a t-shirt, shorts and wet hair that is zipping after the dog.  At this point, Skoshi was still on the home side of the street, and bounding towards her favorite trail run, which is just a half-block from the school.  I had convinced Riley that she could cross the street with the cross guard and walk down the sidewalk to school by herself - although I was quite conflicted about this.  I had my suspicions that Riley might take a more leisurely pace than was warranted, and could quite conceivably not even make it past the butterfly garden and its enticing bridge if there were enough butterflies about.  And since our house has already received one morning phone call from the principal when Riley was found wandering the halls (lost and crying, first week of school), I was loathe to have our family appear to be recidivist.
Skoshi must have read my mind.  She turned around, sprinted past me, and followed Riley onto the elementary school campus.
This was definitely against the rules.
Skoski sprinted past Riley and into the carpool drop-off area.  I was running to catch her when I looked back to find Riley stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, laughing and saying "OH NO!"  So, I jogged back to push her along, and even suggest that she may want to RUN to the front door.  (the sidewalk outside of the school was taking on that deserted one-minute-'til-the-bell look).  I gave her a helpful "Go thataway" shove, and turned away at a sprint to try and catch Skoshi, who fortunately had stopped for the moment.  Unfortunately, this was to take a poo break in the grassy patch that is in the middle of the car-pool drop-off loop.
Great.
Hoping that her lapse of appropriate-place-to-poo decorum would be enough to distract her, I put forth as much of a burst of speed as I could muster (Oh, did I mention that I had already run 10 miles this morning?  Not quickly, but with the last 3 miles at a sub-8-minute pace).  True to form, Skoski waited until I was within inches of grabbing her collar to dash away and zip under the carpool drop-off awning.  The teacher that was manning the drop-off area did make a valiant effort to grab her, but this only forced Skoshi to alter course... through the nearby open door, and into the school.
Thankfully, there was a teacher at her classroom door, and at first Skoski turned right around and headed back towards me.
But then, she thought better of it, and took the only other available route, into the 5th grade classroom across the hall.  Some children were milling about and some were in their seats, but all were trying to catch and pet this adorable, furry, and oh-sooo-novel and exciting (and illegal) visitor to their classroom.  All the while, the teacher was shooting at me those stern and disapproving looks that they must teach them in school, and yelling for the class to calm down so I could retrieve the errant dog.  And boy, is that teacher-disapproval look effective, I kept thinking to myself "This is sooo against the rules... and neither one of us has a visitor pass... will this go in my permanent record?"
I did finally manage to catch Skoshi's collar, and pull her out of the school, while the teacher above glowered at me with "Who brings a dog onto the school campus" looks (It's possible I was projecting my own emotions at that point).
The car-drop-off managing teacher at least had a sense of humor about it, and pointed out that the dog should have started in kindergarten instead of skipping straight to the 5th grade, and another teacher also made light-hearted comments about it.  However, the teacher whose classroom had just been invaded was clearly NOT amused.
So, I drug Skoshi home, and then jogged back with a clean-up bag for the school lawn.  I'm not quite sure how she managed to get out of the house and out of the backyard, but I have clearly underestimated her!
It's times like these that I'm hopeful that I don't look like the doctor who has a clinic down the street...

So, now I'll never calm down enough to get a nap before Riley's lunch time!  And that nap was the only way I convinced myself to drag my feet out of bed, into my running shoes and onto the pavement at 4:45 this morning.  But I've already promised Riley I would meet her for lunch, and now I must make the added effort of dressing, putting up my hair and making myself look presentable in hopes that I will in to way resemble the woman that was chasing a dog through the school that morning.

As you can tell from her post-jaunt photo, Skoshi is not remorseful in the least.

I opened my email this evening to find the below:

Dear Ann K. Gwinnup,
This is to notify you that your entry into the 113th Boston Marathon on Monday, April 20, 2009 has been accepted, provided that the information you submitted is accurate.

Yay! Now I’ve only 2 more marathons before Boston!
My next one is in 3 weeks. My last 20 miler was yesterday. Hence I’ve now entered that frightening time known as “the taper.” This is when I gradually run fewer and fewer miles so that I can rest up for race day.
A side benefit is that I go a bit nuts and drive the family crazy. For example...
I was trying to decide what socks to wear for the marathon (I long ago picked out my top and skirt), and was worrying that my chosen pair has 127 miles on them, when I’d really like to have them closer to 100 (preferably under, though). Maybe I should buy a new pair... but then it’s only 27 extra miles, and if I bought a new pair now I couldn’t do a long run in them, since my max run will be 12 miles next weekend....
And then there’s my pace tattoo (it’s a temporary tattoo that goes on your forearm with anticipated time at each mile marker so that you can track where you are with respect to your goal pace). The fact that they even exist is pretty type A. But still, I picked up two of them at my last marathon - and then used the 3:45 for that race. This leaves me only the 3:40. Hopefully I’ll find another at the expo... otherwise I might have to run 3:40.
And lastly in my taper musings, Brooks (running gear company) is offering a “VIP” portapotty for any runner wearing Brooks Marine Corps marathon gear (or Brooks shoes, but I run in Mizunos, and have for my last 6 pairs of running shoes. I fear change). So, now I have to decide if I think the lines will be so long pre-race that it’s worth shelling out 20 bucks for a pair of socks (that I won’t get to run in before the race - aack!) so that I can gain entry to the hallowed portapotty. (It will have actual running water and soap - but more importantly, it will hopefully have no line). But then I hear that the “Charity Village” for the runners running for a charity may have it’s own bank of portapotties. I could email the Team Fisher House coordinator to confirm, but somehow I don’t think normal people worry about portapotty lines 3 weeks ahead of time...
And this is just the beginning of taper madness. Those of you that really don’t want to know how nuts I really am may want to avert your eyes for the next 3 weeks!