Tuesday, September 14, 2010


Once upon a time, there was a girl* who had a blog. One day, the girl and her good friend, B**, decided to run a marathon. The two friends decided to register for the race right away so they wouldn't change their minds. They even went so far as to post it on Facebook, which is the modern day equivalent of signing your name to a contract in blood.

The girl started training for the race in March, a mere two weeks after surgery to remove an internal organ or two***. She faithfully followed her "Novice Level Marathon Training Plan" all through what would turn out to be one of the hottest summers in recent years****.

Somewhere along the way, the girl's blog became neglected*****. Many, many events went unrecorded. Events that were definitely blog worthy. Events like: that time the girls fell off a horse and Claire got some teeth knocked out and her face all beaten up, and the time Arden may or may not have had viral meningitis but either way, ended up in the ER. And then there was a trip to Disneyworld, the end of Kindergarten, the end of preschool, the arrival of a new family member (a dog named Hootie) and an impromptu trip to the beach.

Sometimes, while the girl was running, she would compose blog entries in her head. This foolishly led her to believe that she was actually updating her blog, because HELLO? she totally wrote about that already. But then she would glance to her neglected blog and realize that she hadn't, in fact, updated it. She would briefly consider doing so, but would ultimately decide against. The running, man. It was so consuming.

Training was going just fine until one day, the girl felt a painful twinge in her knee during a long run. She instantly knew what it was. The dreaded IT Band******. Not wanting to admit it, she continued running until she couldn't take it anymore and ended up walking nearly six miles back to her car. The long, cold walk allowed her plenty of time to think about her neglected blog. She vowed then and there to sit down and update her blog*******.

Ultimately, the girl would recover enough to limp through a few runs and revise her marathon goal from a 4:30 finish to a 5:00 finish to a 6:00 finish*********. Although she was a little down about her injury, she realized that easing off the training would allow her ample time for other activities, including blogging.

And she blogged happily ever after.

*The girl realizes that at some point, she will have to stop referring to herself as a "girl". That time has not yet come.

**The girl would like to hold B, and her fun birthday weekend at Big Cedar Lodge, responsible for making her commit to running a marathon.

***The girl failed to mention her surgery on her blog because it contained words such as "ovary" and "fallopian tubes".

****Of course it was the hottest summer in recent years.

*****The girl would like to note that, while the blog may have been neglected, her children were not.

******In this story, the IT Band will play the part of the wicked stepmother.

*******She, of course, didn't update her blog but instead sought means to heal her injured knee. This included taking copious amounts of anti-immflamatories, lots of stretching, and a visit to a massage therapist who will from here on be referred to as "Patty Pain".
*********The girl now just hopes to finish the race before the streets open back up.


denise said...

I'm pretty sure you did not mention the surgery on FB. How was I supposed to know? I would have sent you a meal via airmail. Or at least some blueberry muffins. Glad you survived the summer. Miss you, Denise

Amber said...

You may be the funniest person alive.

Summer said...

I am so glad you are back and I understand how training can consume you. It evens consumes you after it's over and you start getting all soft and flabby again because you keep eating the cinnamon rolls that you became addicted to during the training and so you determine to start training again just to keep up your cinnamon roll habit but you don't really do it full out b/c you aren't motivated....blah, blah, blah marathons ruin your life and I want to see pictures of your kids soon, please.