BlabberMouse

Analyze This

So last night I dreamt that--

WAIT, COME BACK! 

COME BACK, THIS IS INTERESTING!

Actually it's not that interesting, but it's on my mind, and I just got a new MacBook Pro, and damn if I don't love the feeling of my fingers flying across its beautiful (backlit! <cue Angel choir>) keyboard.

If you have an interest in running, read on. You might be able to help me. (Great incentive, right? Read about my problems, and in return, I will let you try to solve them! I am such a giver.) 

If you hate running or exercise in general, then this post is guaranteed to make your eyes roll so far back in your head they clunk against your tailbone.

So. Last night I dreamt that I finished a marathon--that's 26.2 miles, for those of you who were unclear--and my father said to me, "Were you busy doing something with the boys when the race started?" And then my mother chimed in, "Yeah, you finished a full 20 minutes slower than last time." 

Why would my parents say that to me?

Evil dream parents. THE NERVE OF THEM.

But seriously, why am I pinning my race anxiety on my parents, who have been nothing but supportive and encouraging of my running? I just talked to my dad the other day, and he said he's going to try and come watch me run the Women's Half in September. Supportive, see? 

When I finished the marathon, I obviously backed off my training a lot. And even though I'm still running 35+ miles per week, I've been feeling super sluggish and non-competitive and like maybe my fastest years are behind me. Like I'm Paula fucking Radcliffe or something.

Oh my GOD. My fastest years are behind me. I might not place in my local Tomato 5k. Cue the tiny violins. 

I totally recognize that this is a totally bullshit first-world problem, and I am the only person on this earth who gives a chocolate-coated rip how fast I run, but at the same time ...

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH MY SPEED? 

To lay it out there for my fellow runners, I ran a slightly sub-9 pace in the marathon, a 7:58 pace in the Half, a 7:39 in the 10K, and a 7:19 in the 5K. Those are personal bests, all achieved in the last year. (So, no, I'm not exactly an elite status runner <whines> but still.) I've worked up to those--and I'm afraid I've peaked. The thought of running at ANY of those speeds ever again sounds horrifying and impossible. 

The other day, after a 5-mile run, I decided to do a one mile "sprint." I could barely eke out a 7:54 mile. I mean, I felt like I was DYING.

DYING.

I've been running with my marathon team off and on, too, and we do about an 8:45 pace for 8 miles, and while it feels fine, it also feels fast. Like are-you-sure-your-Garmin-is-not-broken-Kelly? fast. 

On Wednesday, I ran a 3.1 with East Nasty and was sucking wind in the 8-9 minute pace group. 

And my post-work runs are just sort of ... mech. I actually walked during part of my run yesterday. THREE TIMES.

I haven't changed my diet. I haven't gained a significant amount of weight. Granted, it's hot as a devil's anus in Nashville right now, but that still does't feel like a sound excuse. Am I just getting old--or is there something I can do to turn this around? 

Should I throw a little retail therapy at the problem and finally buy a Garmin to clock my pace? (Would that motivate me or just horrify me more?) 

Obviously, there comes a point when you just aren't going to run any faster. I've always raced against my last best time.

If I can't beat it, what's the best way for me to approach racing from here on out? 

Vote for Chip O'Brien

Quick request.

One of Larry's stories was published over at Bartleby Snopes, and it's up for Story of the Month. Could you take a second to vote for it from every computer you have access to? It's a super simple process, no sign ups, just a click! 

When you get to the page, you'll see a list of all the stories with links to each. Scroll down and there's a poll with all the story names. That's where you vote.

Vote for The Cord by Chip O'Brien now at Bartleby Snopes!

THANK YOU, FRIENDS!

Oh, Larry's family calls him Chip--so that's what that's all about. 

The Best Time to Go to Disney World (Hint: Not July)

Okay that was more than a hint.

July is known as a Disney Peak Time. There are other peak times, like New Years Day, Christmas week through New Year’s Day, Memorial Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, basically anytime the kids are out of school and/or people are celebrating. The secret is to visit Disney during the dull, joyless times of year when the rest of the world is hard at work and miserable.

We had no choice but to go at a peak time, because Larry is a teacher, and he can’t just blow off work to pay homage to a giant mouse in knickers like I can. But you, you don’t have to go to Disney World in July.

The first time I visited Disney, it was the week after Labor Day, and we never waited on line. Not once. We rode It’s a Small World on a continuous loop until our ears started bleeding brioche. So my first impression of Disney World was all, “Woah, check out this vast wonderland of rides and shows that exist solely for my personal entertainment. Well played, Walter.”

SURPRISE! This is the Magic Kingdom in July:

In addition to these fine people, the entire population of South America was there, wearing matching neon dickies. Apparently they all read the same Disney guidebook I read, but they read it in Spanish, so they finished it faster and beat us to every ride, in every park, every time.

It occurred to us as we entered the queue for Dumbo that, having grown up in a small city like Nashville, our boys have never really waited on line before. They were all, “What the? We’re confused. Why are you guys just standing behind all these people?”

Well, you see, boys, when a mommy and a daddy love a cartoon elephant very, very much...

Once you finally get up there, though, you can’t help but feel like a winner.

 

If you must go to Disney at a Peak Time, you have two options: Learn the Fast Pass System, or Cultivate a Taste for the Boring Educational Rides No One Likes. 

If you’re Larry, option two will be no problem. The man would wait patiently in line for 85 minutes to ride “The Miracle of Seeds” if such a line existed, which it doesn’t, because everyone is too busy watching the interactive 3D Disney comedy “NERDS! MEN WHO LIKE TO RIDE RIDES CALLED 'THE MIRACLE OF SEEDS'.” 

If I had not read the Disney guidebook on the plane, I would never have figured out Disney's Fast Pass system. Or, I would have figured it out but assumed it cost extra money. It doesn’t. And all the most popular rides offer Fast Pass. Just insert your park ticket into the fast pass kiosk (located at the entrance of the ride), and it will spit out a fast pass ticket stating a one-hour window during which you may return and go to the head of the line.

The trick is, you can only get one Fast Pass at a time, so you can't go whoring around the park sticking your ticket into every fast pass kiosk you see.

I tried. It doesn't work. You’re welcome.

So, do you have plans to go to Disney World? If so, when are you going to go? (Let's see if you learned anything here.) 

M-I-C-K-E-Y-M-O-O-M-G, Part One

We are back from Disney World!

And may I just say, if you and your kids are in the market for some relaxing, laid-back family fun in the sun … Disney World is totally not that vacation.  

You can take that vacation after the mouse has had his way with you. Now bend over and say cheese.

My parents gave us the Disney trip as a Christmas gift. It included five days and four nights at the Beach Club resort, where this is but one of the many ways you may enter the three-acre Fantasy Pool:

Cue hyperventilating and pirate shenanigans ...

The pool would have done the trick (SO, GUYS!! HOW DO YOU LIKE DISNEY WORLD!) but my parents also got us the 5-day park hopper passes, which included The Magic Kingdom, Epcot, Hollywood Studios, and The Animal Kingdom, the last of which we never got around to, because we O'Briens unanimously prefer small statured selective mutes dressed as animals that can hug you and sign autographs.

The Disney trip is something my mom has been wanting to do for us since the boys were born, and since this was the year they turned 5 and 7, she figured (correctly) that this was a perfect time to do it. The boys were old enough to appreciate most of the rides, but still young enough to appreciate the magic. 

I will be eternally grateful to my parents for memories like these. Larry will be eternally grateful for the whopping ass load of cash they saved us. 

Holy yams.

At Disney World, when you wish upon a star, it will cost you no less than $65 per wish, per person, plus gratuity, unless you are on the $500 Weekly Wish Plan with unlimited free wish refills … you’re not? Well then PONY UP, BITCHEZ, 'CAUSE MICKEY NEED A NEW PAIR O’ BRITCHES, AND DA MOUSE HE LIKE HIM TEH FANCY VELVETS.

Several of you Facebooked or emailed me with questions about the trip, and I'll address some of those questions in future posts. Believe it or not, I do have a few Disney pointers to pass along.

I'll start with this one: Don't Wake the Kids Up at 3AM for a Red-eye Flight to Orlando in Order to "Pack the Most into Your First Day at Disney." Our two guys waddled around the Magic Kingdom like a couple of belligerent drunks until we finally gave up and took them back to the hotel for a nap. 

More tips tomorrow, but right now I have an empty house that needs tending to. 

So adieu! (To yieu and yieu and yieu).

(I did not actually purchase the beret.) 

The Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Mom

Here we go again. Another female writer has publicly confessed to her most HORRIBLE, INEXCUSABLE parenting moment, ostensibly to make the rest of us feel better about our own parental missteps. 

This one's by Paula Spencer, author of the article, “9 Things You Shouldn’t Say to Your Child”. 

After enduring an endless stream of interruptions, paint spills, random questions pertaining to the dietary requirements of squirrels, and incessant bickering between her two little girls, all the while trying to decipher some paperwork in one room, cook dinner in another, and nurse a ruptured disk in her back, Paula Spencer did the unthinkable.

“Nothing can excuse my behavior that afternoon,” Spencer wrote before announcing that as God is her witness, she’ll never be hungry again.

She shouted at her daughters, “Enough! Get out! Stop bothering me!”

Whoa, Paula. Get a hold of yourself. 

Next thing you know you’ll be telling those kids to get their own raisins when they beseech you for a tasty, nutritious snack.

I won’t call child protective services if you won’t.

After reading Paula's description of that domestic scene (and mentally layering in some of those high-pitched little-girl shrieks that make me hate all women everywhere), I don’t condemn Paula; I salute her self-restraint.  

But the research does not. According to the research, when you routinely tell your kids you’re busy and not to bother you, you “send the message that there’s no point in talking to you.”

Um, can anyone say MISSION ACCOMPLISHED? (Hence my instructions to leave me alone and stop bothering me?)

I'm only sort of kidding.

If I recall correctly, there was a day and age when children were expected to entertain themselves for long stretches of time. When self-directed play was a part of life and not a sign of parental neglect. A time when kids could decide for themselves whether clouds could be painted blue or flowers green, without an adult's enthused interventions.

How and why have we become the Julie Cruise Directors of our children's lives, pointing and guiding and answering and scheduling and instructing and apologizing for (GASP) ... making them wait?