We did not gather with Psycho Bunny this Easter. The shame!
I did not even drink a Blatz. Double shame!
As guests at the in-laws home, I watched my just turned one year old dog throw up her birthday treats all over their dining room rug. The shame trifecta!
There’s nothing better than asking a relative or friend to put up with you, your family, and your family pet and then have that pet spill stomach bile and partially digested Milkbones all over their floor. I was so embarrassed, I had to leave the room while they cleaned it up. No matter how many times I watch two seventy-three year olds bend down on creaky joints and clean up after my animal (or kids), it never gets any easier. I just can’t watch. And I spare them the vicarious embarrassment of having to see me be embarrassed so I leave the room. I return when I no longer hear the gentle metallic tap of the Medic Alert bracelets against the tile floor.
I was supposed to knock out my last 21 miler on Sunday. Instead, I watched my kids spin around on the driveway on new scooters, eat enough candy to make Augustus Gloop blush, and find enough reasons to hide in another room while critical dinner making tasks were being handed out.
I didn’t have to help with dinner (or clean up!) but I didn’t get my 21 in either.
Now I’m in that torturous limbo territory where I’m so close to taper but….just…can’t reach…it. The forecast calls for rain both today and tomorrow. If I wait until Wednesday, I’m getting into that Do I Even Bother area. I don’t like to miss 20 milers. It makes me feel sad, sport a big pouty lower lip, and complain about things loudly in an annoying baby talk way. Believe me, Mrs. Nitmos can attest to this.
I may have to spin the 20 away on the treadmill tonight purely out of necessity. Or I might watch a Pauly Shore movie. Equal punishment (though only one will help prepare for the marathon.)
I hope you all had a terrific Easter. Mine was nice too. Except, when the bunny came for me, I got a basket full of droppings. That ain’t chocolate. And they don’t go down easy.
Incidentally, a woman asked me at the Easter gathering what an “adequately good time” is for a 5k. Without thinking much (remember my brain to mouth pipeline a couple of posts ago?) I responded “around 8 to 8:30 minutes per mile." Then, later, I got thinking – which I’m apt to do – and realized that might be a tough target time for a new runner. But, her fault. She didn’t define “adequately” and I should never be consulted for advice. Anyone who knows me knows this.