Why a Skewed Perspective Sometimes Rocks

My week with Pixfish was going swimmingly (you know you loved that pun) until the unthinkable happened: I got bitch-slapped by a summer cold.

You know who I thought didn't get hit by colds this hard? Vegetarian joggers. Because not only do we have strong hearts, but all the little animals think warm thoughts for us as they're not being sent to their deaths because of our food choices. All that karma and cute shoe wearing should really pay off, right?

Wrong. So wrong that we've come full circle and are almost at 'right' again. For the last five days I've been going through tissues like I used to go through booze, whining more than I normally do (unfathomable to anyone who has to deal with me on a regular basis) and sleeping the broken sleep of only the very sick or the very new parent.

And who has been by my side every step of the way? Who has been putting her delicate plastic hand in mine as I suffer through this torture? Who has let me play with her creepy straw-like hair in between hacking fits?

Not that old best friend of mine, What's-Her-Face. She was off visiting relatives while I was dying on my couch. She was sending me maybe a text message every two days about something random, like being on a beach, while I was wheezing so loud I couldn't hear the romantic comedy I was trying to watch.

The nerve. What kind of friend isn't there for you in your darkest moment?

I've come to realize that if she were any kind of friend at all, What's-Her-Face would have a perfectly realistic magical psychic connection to me, where she could sense I was coming down with a cold the day before it actually struck, leaving her enough time to wake her children up, excuse her early departure, and whip down the highway in time to get here for my first sneeze. That's a real friend for you. I don't think it's asking too much to meet my needs first, you know?

The one who sat with me through thick and thin this week was none other than Pixfish, my sweet little bundle of foreign toxins. That bi-mythical beauty got me through a tough time, showing me how lovingly co-dependent she is, and earning herself a place in the heart of The Maven for years to come.

Or until one of the dogs uses her as a chew toy. Whichever comes first.

With the plague behind me, I'm anxious to get back to running. It's been just over a week, now. I yearn for the sweat to pour down my face and to hear myself gasping for air again.

Actually, maybe I should take up knitting.

No! Back, fowl beast of slackerdom! I will run again. Just not this weekend. And why is that?

Get ready for it. Get ready...

... You might want to be sitting down for this one.

...Because Geekster took Gutsy and Intrepid camping for four days!

Four freaking days!!

"But wait a minute, Maven. Don't you still have Spawnling?"

I do, but I'm still happier than a free-range pig in free-range shit. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, my lambs. It's a good one, so pay attention:

Having only one child is easy. Easy, easy, easy. Don't ever let anyone with an only tell you otherwise.

It's not that they're lying. In the parents-to-an-only mind, it's a tough job raising just one little ankle-biter to the age of 18. And why is that? Because they lack perspective.

See, before raising Junior they were only raising themselves. It is technically harder, but not as hard as what they could have. Once you've had two crumb-snatchers you start to reminisce about how simple your life was with Junior before you gave birth to Junior-er. And, in the case of the truly insane who end up with Junior, Junior-er and Junior-est, going back to the days of only Junior sounds like winning a garbage bag full of money.

See? Perspective. And from where I sit in my crazy chair, having just a Spawnling around sounds like the makings of a pretty quiet weekend. I'm positively stoked!

I am now waiting for the mothers of four to start telling me raising three children is easy. Save your breath, ladies: you're absolutely right. So right, in fact, that I drove my husband to the pee-pee doctor last year to make sure there were no more Geekster Juniors in our future. I believe I have more than enough perspective now. Most days I would say my cup runneth over with perspective and I choketh on it.

The good news is that I should theoretically have more time and energy for blogging over the next couple of days. It's almost like having the older gremlins back in school again; all day and all night school.

I believe that's called a 'boarding school', and it's usually reserved for rich kids who's parents would rather go skiing after dinner than practice the times tables. Since I'm neither rich nor a skier, I'll take this limited opportunity for near-solitude and report back ASAP with how our weekend is going.

Pixfish, I promise to make up for this week of sucktitude with some most excellent social frolicking. Onward!

Running is for the Sadistic. And also me.

I've gone running - or jogging, if you'd prefer, as I'm certainly not taking this ample body down the road at full tilt - three times in the past week. There was a time in my pre-Spawnling life where I ran 4km every day, so I'm not exactly new at this sport. The difference today, however, is that I'm more aware of exactly what running entails both physically and psychologically. And, let me tell you, it's not pretty. Runners need to be equipped with a number of negative attributes in order to get hooked on the idea.

Allow me to explain in this handy dandy primer:

Step 1: Suit up!

The first thing to know about runners is that health is only secondary to their ultimate goal of looking hot. They may not even realize it themselves, but they are screaming to be noticed. If we didn't care what you thought of us, we wouldn't be wearing designer running gear, right? Right. And please don't give me the excuse that it's 'more comfortable' or 'has better support'. I'm also an attention whore runner, remember? I've played this game before; and while I can't squeeze my pudge into the cute Lululemon outfits just yet, I make up for wearing discount store brands by sporting my hot pink iPod, Roots carrying case and shoes that are so beautiful they've been known to make onlookers weep. Looking hot: it's just what we do.

Major character flaw involved: Vanity.

Step 2: The Stretch

Stretching is an important part of the before and after running rituals. And, in true jogger fashion, should never be done privately. The best place to stretch is where you'll get the most attention. Sometimes, like me, it's on your front step. For others, it's at the beginning of a trail. For true attention seekers, in front of a Wal-Mart might get you the fix you need. A movie theater also works if you time your stretch to the letting out of a blockbuster film. Why do we flaunt our stretches in public? Because we want you to know that we run. We want you to see that we're healthy and know enough about the sport to do it properly. Then, not only will you say 'Hey, look at that runner in the cute pants!' but you might also throw in 'and she's stretching, which is what healthy people do. Wow... Now I feel badly about myself. I shall have a great deal of chocolate now.'

Major character flaw involved: Grandiosity.

Step 3: The Warm up

Ever watch a horse race? All those eager animals have to be penned to keep them contained. When the gates are finally opened, they take off at breakneck speeds. Runners are a lot like horses, except we have two feet and wear clothes. Filled with motivation from all the attention and guilt-inducing we've done in steps 1 and 2, we feel ready to take on just about anything. But if we want the run to last a long time we need the stamina to do it, so warm up we must. It's not something we're proud of others seeing, but it's a necessary evil nonetheless. If another egomaniac runs by us he or she might think 'Hmph. Lazy power walker!' not realizing that we're cut from the same cloth. Thus, it's important to make your warm up as painless as possible. Do it right after stretching and in the area where all the other runners do theirs so it's assumed you're in the cool cats club. Or, if on a regular road and not a runner's trail (they're a lot like dog parks, but for joggers) then follow the same route daily, or at least until you start running. Then, either people will know you well enough to see you're warming up, or only a few neighbours and passers by will think you're a wannabe.

Major character flaw involved: Insecurity

Step 4: Full throttle

This is where runners begin their actual running, and, if done properly, can last a good while. Those like me, however, will jump back and forth between this and step 5, which is a little hard on the ego but must be done to preserve the run in the name of hotness. Full throttle running is when things are going very well. The hot pink iPod is on at a ridiculously high level playing 90's dance cheese, the legs are functioning as smoothly as a well-oiled machine, the feet are hitting the ground in perfect rhythm, and there's just enough sweat beading on the forehead. More importantly, everyone is looking, and you're almost sure it's not because these yoga pants make your bum jiggle. You could carry on like this forever. Forever! It's perfect.

Character flaw involved: Denial.

Step 5: Sort of full throttle

Ah, step 5. It sounds horrible to need to slow down and take a bit of a walking or light jogging break in between the more impressive running jags, but it's not all that bad. For one, it allows one to wipe the now excessive amounts of sweat from every inch of skin, to let the heart slow down before it implodes in the chest (good idea) and to stop the ridiculous gasping and wheezing sounds you just realized are coming from you and are not noise on the MP3 track. Oh, sure, you might look like a wimp for a minute or so as you gather yourself and wonder if you'd look as attractive passed out on the sidewalk, but that's just part of the game until you get much better. I've accepted it as just the way things are right now. It's the difference between exhausting myself after ten minutes or going for forty. I can do simple math, and I know there are sacrifices needed to achieve the larger number.

Character flaw involved: Egomania

Step 5: The brag

I'm going to skip the cool-down stuff because it's essentially the same as steps 1, 2 and 3 but in reverse, and you look awesome anyway because you're covered in sweat and are obviously exhausted; proof that you are, indeed, a runner, or perhaps a ridiculously bad walker. But all that stretching and showering and water drinking has an ultimate goal: bragging. It's time to tally up what you ran, make it look at as good as possible, and, while still high on those amazing endorphins, let everyone know what you accomplished today. I recommend social networking site status updates as they reach the most people. My updates on Facebook are usually 'ran another great 3k today! Better than last time, too!' and other such subtle remarks. But don't blame me: it's the endorphins. That amazing rush is what keeps me coming back to the torturous run. I hate it and love it all at the same time. I pant and whimper for what seems like an eternity so I can float blissfully alongside The Beatles' Yellow Submarine for an hour or two.

Character flaw involved: Addiction.

And there you have it. My primer on running. I hope it helps explain a few things.

Now I must be off. I have an appointment for the gremlins and must get ready for tonight's festivities at my AA meeting. 18 years clean and sober? And now I'm running again, too? Damn, I'm good.

Character flaw involved: pretty much all of them.