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I realized a very important thing about running—the attire. Oh, my goodness, there were so many young girls running the 1 mile course in Centerville with the cutest running outfits. Matching zipper jacket and pants with a bright colored shirt showing under the jacket. They look like runners.
Then there is me. I bought some running shorts/capris, but it is really cold out there. So all I have is my ratty old gray sweats that are long enough to cover my white legs and keep me warm. I also wore my large gray hooded sweatshirt as well (bulky, different color gray, but gray none-the-less). I was going for warmth and comfort. That was a big No-No. I looked like a frumpy, middle aged woman amongst these young things. Ya, ya, I am a frumpy, middle aged woman, but that doesn’t mean I want to be reminded of this. (Let me dream a little). I need better, sexier, running attire. I think if I had better, sexier running clothes I would run better, faster, farther. Ya right, but I do think I need something better looking. This calls for a shopping trip—break out the VISA. I also noticed almost everyone wore sunglasses. Sunglasses makes everything look better. Now sunglasses I do have plenty of, and so next time I will wear them—I will fit in. I’m starting to figure this whole running thing out—it’s all about the attire (and the bra of course). Okay, mind you there were also grandma-type ladies out there walking their dogs as well, but I don’t want to be in that group. Oh, no. I am going to fight that as long as I can. I will cling to the younger side of middle age with my fingernails until someone pries them off. If I can’t be a real runner, then at least I could try and look like one.
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 I don’t think I like running. It hurts and I huff and puff like a pregnant walrus. Running is not fun—not fun at all.
I made another attempt today. I found a really nice walking/jogging track in Centerville that marks a 1 mile trail. Did you guys know that a mile looks really, really long? I walked along this trail and when I got to the half mile marker, I was like wow, this isn’t bad at all. It wasn’t until I got to the 1 mile marker that I realized, I didn’t start at the beginning. I had started at the quarter mile. That was depressing. But I plugged along, walking most of it, running some of it. As I looked at this trail I could not imagine how I could possibly run its length a total of 3 times. That is what I need to be able to do by April to run the 5K. I need to be able to run this amount three different times for the Ragnar. It seems impossible—an insurmountable task. I feel as though I am setting myself up for failure or death by running. I used my husband’s GPS watch and tracked that total, I walked/run a distance of 1.7 miles. A little more than the last time, but not much. A friend asked me about last time that I had run, if I hurt anywhere. Actually, I did not. I felt great. Today I hurt—my thighs hurt. Is it supposed to do that? My body is resisting the new change. It was used to the easy life. My body is screaming at me now saying, “What are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?” I always see runners running. They are everywhere. I have yet to see the appeal. Okay, it’s only my second time, but still. When does this get fun? Will it ever? “I never said it would be easy…only that it would be worth it.” Okay, okay—I’m clinging to that phrase. Please be worth it, please be worth it, please be worth it… Subjectivity. Writing will always be at its whim.
Obviously, I did not make the cut. At first, I was rather sad and disappointed, but with time and discussing the whole contest with other ABNA authors who didn’t make the cut, I’m feeling much better. There were authors who made it to the quarterfinals last year, who submitted the very same pitch this year only to be booted in the first round. Strange? That’s subjectivity for you. Many great writers moved on. Many great writers did not. I’m okay. Really I am. No one even read my manuscript. They have no idea what I am capable of. So being cut in the first round is not a reflection on what I can write. All they read was my 300 word pitch. Pitches are difficult—take a 250 page book and describe it 300 words or less. Now make it enticing. It’s tough. I tried. I learned. I am better for it. Next year though, if I enter next year, I will make sure my manuscript and pitch contains vampires, werewolves, and fire and brimstone, because that seems to be the key to getting past the pitch phase. I had none of those things. I was so foolish. I will keep plugging away. I may never catch a break. But that is not why I write.  I am chomping at the bit—so nervous! Today is the 25th of February, the day that the Amazon Breakthrough Writers Award (ABNA) announces those authors that get to move on to the next round in the contest. I am still waiting to hear. Nothing has been posted yet. It is 2:27pm and the wait is just about killing me.
On the ABNA discussion boards, writers from around the world are biting nails, compulsively checking email boxes, and some have even taken to the drink. It’s that intense. Come on ABNA, just post the next 1000 entrants that get to move on. The suspense is too much to handle. We have already had to wait a month for this day to come and now that it is here…nothing. I couldn’t sleep last night. In my dreams I was checking my email over and over. One time my email said I was moving on to the next round. Another time, I was not and a third time, I had sent my manuscript to ABNA in a completely useless format—all written in Chinese or something like that. What do I believe my chances are? Statistically, I know it to be a 1 in 5 chance. Probability, it really is a lottery—what kind of judge looked at my pitch; which pile of pitches contained mine; the mood of the judge. There are a lot of factors here. Does this mean I am a horrible writer if I am cut in the first round? Not necessarily. A lot of good manuscripts will be cut due to poorly written pitches. A lot of horrible manuscripts may make the cut due to well written pitches. Writing a pitch is hard to do (see mine on page two). I thought I did alright. I had received great reviews on my pitch and excerpt, but who knows really how this contest will play out. My fingers are crossed. I am one of the compulsive writers that are hitting the refresh key on my email for any sign. At this point, I just want to know one way or the other. I have no more nails to chew. Driving by one of our neighbors homes, I saw a stepper/exercise machine out in the yard with a “Free” sign taped to it. I like free. Nothing beats free. I decided I could use it and sent my husband and oldest son to go and bring it home.
The first month, I used it a couple of times. It wasn’t so bad. I could watch television to pass the time as I exercised. All was good. Then came the second month. I became sick and used that as an excuse not to touch the stepper even when I was feeling slightly better. Today, I decided to give it a go once more. With Rachel Ray discussing organization and the wearing of proper under garments, I thought I would start out by spending only 15 minutes on the stepper. At 10 minutes I wanted to give up. I told myself at the next commercial I would be done. The next thing I knew, my reader said I had been on the machine for 15:30 minutes. I figured, why not do 20 minutes instead. Why not! Once I hit 15 minutes, it seemed easier. So at 20:20 minutes, I got off and wobbled on jelly legs over to the couch. It feels good. I feel good. Better to have jelly legs than to have jelly rolls—though nothing beats a jelly donut. Just kidding. No jelly donuts here. No more excuses. “Victory is won not in miles, but in inches. Win a little now, hold your ground, and later, win a little more”--Louis L’Amour
I went for a brisk walk/run this evening. Exactly 1.3 miles of walking and running (mostly walking). It may not be much in the whole scheme of things, but it is a beginning. Every great feat starts off small in nature and gets bigger with time. This is what I am hoping for. Amazingly, the running part wasn’t so bad. The worst? My frozen ears. My ears, though warm to the touch now, are ringing in coldness. Next time I will wear a better hat. I knew I couldn’t be out for very longer as the sun was quickly going down and I had left my 12 ½ year old son to babysit (the younger kids think he is the worst babysitter ever). I didn’t have much time. I was okay with that. Keep it simple. So I did it. I have begun. Hopefully next time will be longer, better, farther. Fingers crossed. I just love the internet! You can find just about anything you ever need or want to know on the internet. I googled “Running Mom” and came to a fantastic website called just that www.arunningmom.com
Her latest advice is on how to train for a 5k in 5 weeks. I think this is great, sounds doable, and I plan to follow it myself starting tomorrow. I need to get training. Time is running out. The Ragnar is quickly approaching and I am in no shape to run any of it—unless you count round and squishy as a shape. My first goal is to try and run a 5K this April. If I can’t handle that, then I have no business running a long distance race in June—none at all. I think I can handle a 5k, it doesn’t seem so scary as the Ragnar sounds to me. I appreciate the advice that Rebecca on the running mom site suggests. Check it out. See if her advice may work for you.  The itchy rash first made its appearance when I was around 34 weeks pregnant. It started off small and in one area, but gradually by the end of my pregnancy it had taken over my body excluding my face, palms of my hands, and the soles of my feet. Mind you, this bumpy, red, itchy rash was more intense than anything I had ever felt or experienced. Imagine having been eaten alive by 100’s of mosquitoes, rolling around in poison ivy, and sprinkle some chicken pox on top. It was insane! In short I had what is commonly known as PUPPP (Pruritic Urticarial Papules and Plaques of Pregnancy).
I cried almost every day. I scratched and scratched until I bled. I would take nearly a half dozen cold showers daily trying to ease the discomfort. Hundreds upon hundreds of dollars was spent in trying to fight the itch. Whatever advice was given on the internet, I did—from steroid pills (3 rounds), steroid creams, every anti –itching cream made, dandelion root to omega 3 flaxseed oil (which by the way seemed to work for a little bit until I threw it up and could no longer stomach 2 tablespoons of flaxseed oil any more). The only thing that seemed to calm the itch for me, was to purchase a lotion called Sarna. I would take a cold shower and then smear this intense lotion all over my body. My body looked horrible and I even apologized to the guy giving my epidural for being so gross. I was induced early in hopes that by having my baby, the rash would subside and disappear since nothing else worked. The rash did not go away, though it did calm down. While I was pregnant on a scale from 1 to 10, I was nearly a 10+ every day near the end. After that, it settled to around a 2 or 3. My daughter is now 6 ½ years old. I still itch almost every day. The mornings and evenings are the worse. I can sometimes reach a 3 on my scale of itchiness. This itch is not like other itches. Normally, when you have a itch, you scratch it and the itch subsides and goes away. Mine does not. When I scratch, my itch worsens and worsens in its intensity. Then it spreads. I bleed, I get hives almost instantly every time. I still buy Sarna. I should have bought stock in that lotion years ago. I truly believe that my itchiness is due to IVF hormonal procedures that caused my hormones to get out of sync somewhere. I have been to doctors and I have not received much help other than a tiny tube of steroid cream that in one use is gone or I have been told to take a Claritin everyday to help my histamine levels. Nothing works. I simply live with it since I am NOT nearly as bad as I was while I was pregnant. I don’t think I have ever heard of someone dealing with the itch for as long as I have dealt with it. If anyone knows a cure, please let me know. I am open to options. Why is it that every time I think I might slap on the bra, pull on my spandex shorts and tie up my running shoes, it starts to snow? Hmmm...I think it is a sign.
Okay, I know. Snow doesn't mean you can't go running--people are out there running in blizaards all the time. But have you ever really looked at those people? Really looked at them? That's what crazy people look like. I have determined it to be so. Because lets face it, only truly crazy people would run in sub zero temperatures with huge snowball sized flakes smacking them in the face or torrential rains turning them into a big soggy mess. That's the very definition of crazy. No, that's called DEDICATION, you say. Running in those kinds of conditions shows the true nature of a 'real' runner. Sorry, I don't buy it. There are indoor places called 'gyms' built especially for those times when the weather is horrid. They're everywhere! There is no need for this running-until-my-nose-falls-off-from-frost-bite kind of nonsense. I am not a dedicated runner. I'm not even a non-dedicated runner. I'm a "thinking about running" kind of gal. And if I am going to do it, I'm sure as heck not going to start by doing it in the snow, or the rain for that matter. It's going to have to be a pretty nice looking day to get me out there pounding some pavement. Maybe Monday will be a nice day--until then, I guess. (By the way, I've got the sports bra, the spandex running shorts and I also have the arm band to hold my iPod. I'm getting closer and closer to actually running). Today was auction day! The day I travel 40 minutes each way in hopes of bidding on some items that I might in return sell on eBay for a profit. I have been doing this for almost 3 years now, come this April. It works for me. I buy things. I sell them and make a profit. Some weeks are better than others. This week was a total bust.
I drove down to the auction in hopes of winning the bid on several pallets of items. This was the first time I returned home empty handed. I had been outbid. I knew my limit and I refused to bid any higher. It’s getting harder and harder each week. There are great items—great profitable items to resell. The problem: I am Yorkie in the midst of Great Danes. I do this part time. For the others, this is how they make their living. They are very serious, not to say I’m not, but I place my bids in hopes of making at least a 40% profit. I have witnessed these top dogs bid $100 on an item that can be purchased in the store for $120. They sell so much, that a 10-20% profit is fine for them. I refuse to work this way. Several of the other eBayers I have known since I started. We talk. We are friendly. These are the few that are very honest and kind. Then there are the sleaze balls (many sleaze balls). They will steer you in the wrong direction if they can. They will talk to you in hopes of you revealing your plan to them, so they can ban with others to outbid you, just for the sake of outbidding you. These eBayers I have given nick names—pajama mama (most always wears pajamas with high heeled flip flops), stinky (I haven’t seen her lately, which is a good thing); Shoe Brian; and Big Belly Man. I stay away from them where I can. Especially pajama mama. She’s no good. Most eBayers are hush, hush. It’s all a big secret game. They will not tell you their eBay store name—that is up to you to figure out on your own. They will not give advice on what items or brands are the best. I have had to research and work hard to know for myself. Honestly, if you were to ask me where I go, what items I look for, more than likely I will be hush, hush too. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. Sorry. The adrenaline rush of waving my bidder number brings me back each week. It’s exciting, but even more so is seeing the money come trickling in. I like this job, though my children complain my basement smells just like a Walgreens. I will keep doing it, until the big dogs make it impossible to keep going or I become a big dog myself. |
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