Miles of decorating progress

Since my stupid owie is preventing me from doing load-bearing things like moving furniture and crawling around on the floor touching up baseboards, I’m focusing my bedroom-redo energy on artsy-craftsy projects like découpaging LiveLaughLove cutouts on my ceiling and making an art installation of my running hats, bibs and medals. I had the brilliant idea of carrying that stupid Captain America shield—mostly hidden here under my Mickey-ear ball cap—on my arm for an entire 13.1 miles in the Disney Avengers Half Marathon, so it’s staying fully enshrined among my endurance running souvenirs, no matter how cheap and out of proportion it looks.

Flashback Friday: Granny Socks And Abs Edition

You know how when you get old and lumpy you feel compelled to show everyone how lithe and nubile you once were? It's a good thing I didn't put that into words here because what my cover story for reposting this picture is remember that one time I had to wear granny compression socks to keep my shin splints from exploding out of my legs when I ran a half marathon in epic EPIC heat and they were itchy and hot but they did their job and I managed to finish in a medal-winning time? (And don't listen to those losers who say that EVERYBODY gets a medal for crossing the finish line. We don't need that kind of negativity in our lives.)

You will be found

There’s only one thing more certain than me taking a selfie when I’m at the gym: me forgetting where I parked my car when I leave the gym. In my defense, EVERYONE at the gym today came in a silver car.

Also: new haircut!

Also: Disney running shirt!

Also: I finally found my car!

Flashback Friday: Personal Best Edition

I hit my never-to-be-beaten personal best (1:56:03, baby!) ten years ago in this half marathon, which weirdly tried to rebrand itself as something bigger than it was by calling itself the Chicago 13.1 Marathon.

Amateur runners of a certain size and weight strive to run sub-2:00 half marathons, and this is the only time I ever beat that milestone. I did it in part because an Ironman-doing friend of mine recommended that I take a handful of Advil before the race so I wouldn't feel any pain. Which worked like a charm because I felt awesome the entire time and the whole day afterward. AND THEN I WAS CRIPPLED FOR LIFE WHEN I WOKE UP THE NEXT MORNING. Word to the wise from the front lines of bad ideas: Never do this.

I often write little notes to both friends and total strangers on Instagram when I have something (hopefully) interesting to say ...

all with no expectation that they’ll ever write me back, which is good because they never do. EXCEPT I SENT A NOTE TO DREAMY BROADWAY STAR JASON DANIELEY TODAY TO CONGRATULATE HIM ON A HALF-MARATHON PR AND HE JUST RESPONDED AND BASICALLY I JUST TALKED SHOP WITH JASON DANIELEY ABOUT RUNNING THE NEW YORK MARATHON AND HOLY SHIT SOMEONE FETCH ME MY SMELLING SALTS AND HEART MEDICATION.

Back, Biceps and

BOY I WISH THAT GUY WITH THE BALL CAP AND THE BEEFY QUADS WOULD LOOK UP SO WE COULD MAKE EYE CONTACT AND EXCHANGE SMILES AND SCHEDULE THE CAKE TASTING FOR THE WEDDING.

Also: BOY I NEED TO CLEAN MY GLASSES.

LITANY OF COMPLAINTS

• Our Disney vacation is over
• I didn’t win the marathon
• Perhaps because there was only a half marathon
• Perhaps not
• But now we’ll never know
• Will we?
• No, we won’t
• Anyway ...
• Disney water
• It tastes like History and Safety First
• Turning it into ice and putting it in Diet Coke doesn’t help
• And it CERTAINLY doesn’t help the Diet Coke
• Speaking of ...
• A large cup of Disney History And Safety First ice with a splash of a Diet Coke costs less than $6
• But not much less
• Disney has stopped using lids on its fountain sodas
• Which is awesome from an environmental standpoint
• And I assume from a cost-overhead standpoint
• Plus an ordering-supplies-and-dealing with-invoices-and-delivering-stuff-to-all-the-restaurants standpoint
• But definitely not from a don’t-spill-your-tiny-splash-of-Diet-Coke-on-yourself-when-you-get-jostled-in-the-crowds standpoint
• Safety First!
• Anyway ...
• Runner dudes with muscularly lean, distractingly shapely calves
• Who didn’t ask me on dates
• Probably because they didn’t want to make things weird in front of their wives and kids
• BECAUSE ALL OF THE RUNNER DUDES WITH MUSCULARLY LEAN, DISTRACTINGLY SHAPELY CALVES HAD WIVES AND KIDS
• I am developing a healthy animosity toward wives and kids
• People who wore their race medals to the parks
• Three days after their races
• Really?
• Was a full day of wearing a rigid, itchy ribbon around your neck with a heavy, clangy medal bouncing against your chest a productive enhancement to your sweaty Disney joy?
• Asking for a friend
• Also:
• Also!
• People who stopped in the middle of a crowd of moving people to do something vitally important like take a selfie or scratch an elbow or clap on 1 and 3 or whatever other pressing needs really stupid, rude people face in their center-of-the-universe days
• Grrrrrr
• I bought three race shirts and zero other souvenirs but I somehow couldn’t get my suitcase closed this morning
• My cargo shorts are out to get me
• Or perhaps they wanted to stay a few more days
• And I broke their eminently-practical-and-yet-appropriate-as-always-multiple-pocketed hearts
• Now I’M the bad guy
• Speaking of my eminently-practical-and-yet-appropriate-as-always-multiple-pocketed cargo shorts ...
• I finally stopped having little panic attacks every time I realized I couldn’t feel my car keys in my front right pocket
• When I get home tonight, I’m going to start having an unsightly key bulge in my front right pocket again
• And it might be uncomfortable since I’m not used to it anymore
• WHEN
• WILL
• MY
• SUFFERING
• END
• ?
• We got our bills from our Magic Bands that we wore all week to buy food and charge it to our room ...
• Ouch
• Not OUCH
• But still ouch
• (I’m talking about the final tally of charges and not the bands themselves; the bands were actually quite comfortable)
• Remember our fancy, four-princess dinner in Cinderella’s castle where we got to see the fireworks show outside the quatrefoil-gothic castle windows?
• We were told our dinner was vaguely “already taken care of” at the end
• We assumed that meant it had been automatically charged to our Magic Bands, so we blithely went on our merry way
• But ...
• There was no fancy-four-princess-dinner-in-Cinderella’s-quatrefoil-gothic-window-castle charge on our bills this morning
• Was it an oversight?
• A surprise Summer Of Running Away From Being 50 birthday gift?
• A random act of Disney benevolence?
• Pre-emptive compensation for not winning the marathon?
• Do we need to contact them to see which option it was?
• THIS SITUATION IS NOT COVERED IN THE DISNEY PROTOCOL HANDBOOK
• Not a complaint: Our entire Disney stay was a beautifully immersive experience of colors and ethnicities and accents and physical abilities and sexualities and gender fluidities and ages and family sizes
• Especially on It’s a Small World
• ESPECIALLY on It’s a Small World
• That ride gives me hives
• On my runner-chafed unmentionable locations
• Anyway ...
• We never encountered an instance of racism or xenophobia or hostility or even poorly hidden frustration over our differences
• During the entire week of our stay
• In fact, we all seemed to celebrate each other and gladly accommodate people in wheelchairs and families with excited kids so we could all enjoy our collective Disney experience together
• For a whole week
• Except, of course, for the people who stopped in the middle of a crowd of moving people to do something vitally important like take a selfie or scratch an elbow or clap on 1 and 3 or whatever other pressing needs really stupid, rude people face in their center-of-the-universe days
• MAJOR. PET. PEEVE.
• Anyway ...
• We’re re-entering the ugly, not-Disney-égalité-fraternité world of our shithole president and his shithole orbit today
• I don’t know how all of you survived it over the last week
• But re-enter we must
• In a cloud of voter optimism and hope
• And three new race shirts that make my suitcase uncloseable
• My flight home is at 5:14 tonight
• Erik’s is at 2:31
• So we took the early Disney bus to the airport for him to catch his flight and for me to chill with a couple of books and a fully charged phone for a while
• I’m currently typing this as I sit in a comfy chair in front of the airport Chick-fil-A
• Speaking of non-Disney-égalité-fraternité
• Facebook keeps crashing on me, so I’m obsessively select-all-ing and copying this post after every other bullet I write on it here
• Just so I don’t lose this freaking endless list of rambling, mostly pointless litany-of-complaints line items
• Freezing and crashing apps are many-times-a-day occurrences on my iPhone X
• I am SOOOOOOO not impressed with the iPhone X
• Save your money and get an abacus and two cans with a string
• Much more reliable
• And affordable
• Anyway ...
• I had an awesome vacation with an awesome friend and an awesome surprise finish of a half marathon I’d fully expected to choke on and possibly even have to quit
• And now I’m chilling in a bustling airport seated near two hip and cool teenagers who are using hip-and-cool-teenager patois like brah to talk to each other and my boy to talk about their (presumably male) friends
• It’s both charming and amusing
• And I’m in a happy place, both in my head and in this airport
• Except the airport’s escalators look like they were installed in a columbarium
• Brah

So we have it on good authority ...

(you wouldn’t lie to us, Thomas, would you? because I haven’t had breakfast yet and we just got in line) that this is “the best ride at Disney World”—which, actually, was just confirmed by the repeat riders in front of us in line. Which softens the blow a bit. Plus I reserved our FastPasses online two months ago and it wasn’t even on the menu, which I guess double-confirms.

For a bit of 150-minute perspective: I ran an entire half marathon yesterday in 179 minutes. My 5-Hour Energy will be exactly halfway done keeping me upright by the time we get on the ride. THE ENTIRE AVATAR MOVIE IS JUST 12 MINUTES LONGER THAN WE’LL STAND IN LINE.

Thankfully, the kids in line behind us are whiling away their time with a quiet, respectful game of SCREAM AND SHRIEK LIKE SUGAR-FUELED LITTLE ASSHOLES. We’re all sincerely hoping it goes into overtime. Plus lightning rounds. Plus a final death match. Or perhaps an extra-early death match.

So Disney races are built around being all-Disney-all-or-at-least-a-lot-of-the-time,

and yesterday’s half marathon didn’t disappoint, taking us through three of Walt Disney World’s four parks. Since the parks don’t butt up against each other, there are long stretches of roadways we slogged along, but every half mile or so there was a photo op with a Disney character or a rockin’ DJ or at the very least a screen showing a Disney movie. I’d planned to stop for many photo ops with the Disney characters since I was so unprepared for the race, but the lines were huge and I wasn’t getting tired and it’s REALLY hard to resume a long run after a prolonged stop so I just kept slogging.

The course took us through what felt like most of Animal Kingdom in the misty pre-dawn, which was just as magical as you could hope ... except Animal Kingdom has narrower walkways than the other parks, so we all had to focus more on dodging and weaving and not slamming into each other than on the abundant Disney magic.

Fun fact: The backstage areas behind the parks that we ran through are almost 100% gray trailers and golf carts and dumpsters with nary a trace of colorful Disney magic among them.

We also ran through a bit of Hollywood Studios, with the usually dour and ominous Tower of Terror bellhops screaming enthusiastically for us in their dour and ominous uniforms. Which was cool.

And our final mile ran from a backstage entrance near England in EPCOT, circled clear around the lagoon past every country—where I yelled “mange tusen takk!” to all the Norwegians cheering us on in their bunads—and then through the front of the park past the early (and cheering!) EPCOT guests and into the finish line by the entrance. It was truly glorious.

My GPS watch was faster than the official mile markers right away, which was just—for the lack of a more relevant term—goofy. And it got faster and faster by the mile, so my watch says I ran .37 miles farther than the standard 13.1:

But it gave me a half marathon badge when I synched it to the app on my phone, so there’s that:

I’m a little miffed that the New York Times covered the dinky New York Marathon instead of my epic Disney victory over my catastrophic lack of training, BUT I HAVE TWO MEDALS AND YOU HAVE ZERO, NEW YORK TIMES, SO THERE.

I also have more chafing in unmentionable places, but let’s not mention that.

Oh—and I got TONS of compliments and conversations from my Summer Of Running Away From Being 50 shirt as people passed me, which is an enthusiastic spin on saying TONS of people passed me. But I passed lots of walkers and drunks and staggering zombies, so I’m still a total rockstar. Right?

I was going to write a fun post about this morning’s race before I went to bed tonight,

but instead of post-race napping like a smart person I decided to jump right into post-race EPCOTing like a dumb person and I just now finally sloshed home in the rain and I’m so tired I can barely whine about my unmentionable-location chafing so here are the fireworks that Disney set off this morning to send my corral through the starting gate:

HECK YEAH I took selfies with both medals and my new I DID IT! shirt

I even full-teeth smiled in one because my mom said I need to stop smiling with my mouth closed even though I think my open-mouth smile looks kind of devious and creepy. Hide your children and valuables as you see fit.

MOUSEDAMNIT!

I was all emotionally prepared to just somehow get through today’s run and make it my last—and probably most painful—half marathon ever ... but I FREAKING LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT. And I ran the whole thing without stopping (except for water stations, which all runners get a pass on because running + drinking = spilling + wearing)—which is so huge to me that I’d maybe get choked up and cry if I had any moisture left in me.

SO PUT A 2020 GROUP DISNEY HALF MARATHON ON YOUR CALENDARS AND IN YOUR BUDGETS, RUNNER PEEPS. BECAUSE WE’RE GONNA ROCK IT TOGETHER! AND I’M NOT MOUSING AROUND.

Also: I have pictures! And funny things to post here that I thought up while I was running because what the hell else do you do for three hours with no distractions except the crap in your head? But I need a shower first. And 13.1 shovelfuls of food. And maybe a nap. I’m not sure yet whether or not I’ll post-race crash or post-race bounce off the walls. Stay tuned ...

I’m in my start corral!

We provide our estimated finishing times when we register for the race, which groups us with similar-paced runners into lettered starting corrals. The corrals for this race are lettered A through H for Afastest to Hslowest. I’m F for Fnoteveninthetophalf:

I haven’t heard a total runner number, but the group in front of me just in my starting corral is ENORMOUS:

Cool surprise: Jeff Galloway is on the stage chatting with the pre-race announcers as I type this. His Galloway Training Method propelled me through all four AIDS Marathons I ran in Chicago. And they introduced him by saying he’s run all 25 Disney marathons. Plus they just introduced some people who’ve run 100+ Disney races. The vibe here is SO COOL.

Except ... it just started raining. We have our work cut out for us.

The starting-line fireworks are in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

The last time I’ll pin a racing bib to my Summer Of Running Away From Being 50 shirt*

The last half marathon I’ll probably ever run, unless I have a tidal change of heart—and knee pain. Hopefully the last time I’ll compulsively eat like I’m running 20+ miles a week.

4:00 am alarm.

4:30 am bus.

5:30 am gun.

13.1 miles.

LET’S. MAKE. THIS. HAPPEN.

*Plastic “Wishing Star” not included in race. It was a little souvenir given to me for no discernible reason at our Cinderella’s Castle dinner. I put it in this traditional pre-race race-outfit photo to add a literal glimmer of Disney sparkle.

#HowToTurn50

We are REALLY TIRED of the Disney parks’ jazz-hands-oppressive anti-choreography-on-the-rides policies so we left the parks and came back to our room to chill

Also because I need to conserve my 50-year-old resources and turn in early so I can win the half marathon before the sun comes up tomorrow. But still.

Race packet pickup!

I can’t decide which commemorative photo I like best ...

Running Mickey:

Relentless Logos:

or Optimistic Pre-Bought Finisher Shirt Spread Across My Chest For A Selfie In The Bus On The Way Back From The Fitness Expo To The Hotel:

Also: Packet pickup is a universally beloved pre-race tradition where all the racers get together in a huge room and pretend like they’re not all secretly ranking all the guys in order of who has the sexiest calves.

We've run out of summer

1. Last training run of the season!
2. My second and last half marathon is in eight days.
3. And no, I won’t be training any more for it.
4. Because after my summer of chronic injuries and my aborted NewBo half marathon, I’ve kind of given up.
5. But I’ll start next weekend’s half marathon with optimism and see what happens.
6. I’ll also start with a super-cute outfit.
7. So there’s that.
8. Rob and Scott joined me this morning for our last hurrah of 2018.
9. They’ve been awesome running buddies and all-around friends all summer.
10. Now that training season is over, I’m sure we’ll revert to our usual state of evil, backstabbing nemesises.
11. Those poopyheads.
12. See? It’s already started.
13. It’s impossible to say nemesises without sounding gay.
14. Same with cilantro citrus salad.
15. Sssssssssssssss.
16. Chicago David was in town so he also ran with us.
17. But he’s either an overachiever or a showoff because he kept running when we stopped so he could do more miles.
18. So he didn’t get to be in the selfie.
19. The poopyhead.
20. Nemesises.
21. I’m sweaty.
22. And sleepy.
23. And sworn to secrecy about my cilantro citrus salad recipe.
24. So shhhhhhhhhh!
25. I saw a show long ago that took place on a gay ship named the SS Sibilant S.
26. I don’t remember where I saw it, but it was silly.
27. Anyway.
28. We chose a pretty tree as the background for our final selfie today.
29. Which is so low-concept that it forced me to wander off on a whistley-lisp tangent here.
30. Whistley lisp.
31. Cilantro Nemesis and the Whistley Lisps.
32. I’ll take Polka-Punk Bands I Would Never Listen To for ssssssix hundred, Alex.
33. Sssssssso sssssssleepy.
34. My knee injury is apparently NOT as healed as it had led me to believe.
35. I don’t see it causing me any problems for the Disney races, but it will certainly make its presence known.
36. I may have a goofknee, but at least I don’t have a plutoe.
37. I just made that up.
38. You owe me sssseven dollars if you found it amusing.
39. Good jokes don’t write themselves.
40. And a GOOD joke would cost you a whole lot more.
41. Mom made a peach pie while we were out running.
42. I bought my folks some fancy pie fillings when I was in Galena.
43. And my dad’s birthday is Tuesday.
44. Which is more than enough reason to spontaneously bake a pie.
45. So is the fact that the jars of pie filling were still sitting on the counter where they couldn’t be ignored.
46. Since he’s blind, we’re getting him an Alexa (or one of her smart-speaker sisteren, I forget which) in the hopes that she’ll make it easier for him to listen to the news or play music or bake a pie or whatever else it is that those things do.
47. Since he’s blind, he also can’t read Facebook so I can say what his gift is here and he’ll never know.
48. AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BLAB TO HIM.
49. Because Alexa will find out and hunt you down and make you listen to Polka Punk.
50. Smart speaker sisteren.
51. You thought I was gonna let that one slide, didn’t you?
52. Ssssslide.
53. To review:
54. Nemesises.
55. Cilantro citrus salad.
56. Sweaty.
57. Sleepy.
58. Sworn to secrecy.
59. Cilantro citrus salad recipe.
60. SS Sibilant S.
61. Silly.
62. Whistley lisp.
63. Cilantro Nemesis and the Whistley Lisps.
64. Smart-speaker sisteren.
65. Ssssslide.
66. Sixty-six.
67. Well THAT was a surprising coincidence.
68. Surprising coincidence.
69. Sssssssso sssssssleepy.
70. See ya!

At last! My half-marathon Mickey costume is complete!

I’ve been super-duper-stupid-bad about training for my half marathon three weeks from now

Partly because I was defeated by my knee injury that killed my last half marathon. Partly because it got cold and I hate running in the cold. Partly because I’ve found myself burned out on running after this intensive summer. Partly because I’m really good at coming up with excuses to stay in bed in the mornings. Partly because it’s been so long since I’ve run that my running watch was dead this morning and needed to be charged. (Is that enough partlys? Partly.)

Anyway, none of this stops the looming half marathon from crushing my knees anew, so run I must. Plus if I’m going to run in yellow Mickey Mouse shoes, I need to do some trial runs in the three (yes, three. because I have a shoe-shopping problem. shut up.) pair of yellow running shoes I’ve bought over the years because they were yellow and not because they were good running shoes for my gait and stride.

And these shoes have a splash of pink at the heel, which offers a tantalizing hint-or-not-hint-I’m-not-telling about my questionable sexuality. Hmmm ....

So off I run!

M-ICY!

1. I’ve been kind of smug in my good luck regarding never having run in extreme weather all summer.
2. Well, THAT sure changed this morning.
3. Brrrrrrr.
4. My typing thumb is so cold right now that it’s hard to type with any accuracu.
5. Cheap joke.
6. Anyway.
7. trump is a catastrophic-dumpster-fire piece of shit.
8. Whoops! Where did THAT come from?
9. Anyway.
10. When I bought this Mickey shirt, it hugged my arms and shoulders in manly-man ways.
11. Now it hangs on me like a Mayan burial gown on an immolated corpse.
12. Not that I think the Mayans begowned their dead AFTER they burned them.
13. But I like the imagery and rhythm of line item #11.
14. So I stand by my reporting.
15. Anyway.
16. Deflated showoff muscles and drapey T-shirts are what happens when you stop lifting 3+ times a week and start running 3+ times a week.
17. Poor, poor me.
18. But I have another half marathon looming in five weeks—and I plan to finish this one—so run I must.
19. And shrink I will.
20. Just like this morning.
21. Three miles. 11:32 pace. TINY twinge of knee pain.
22. Not much body-shrinking sweat though.
23. Because it was freezing.
24. Brrrrrrrr.
25. Gratuitous typo jokd.
26. Random mention of running buddies Rob and Scott.
27. I have to pee now.
28. TMI.
29. So you’re getting only 30 line items today.
30. You’re welcome.