the 60 year old virgin

On Saturday, as promised, I ran a 5K with my mum, the 60 year old virgin. That's virgin as in, she's never run a 5K ever in her life. She's never even quite run 3 miles. We did the Jingle Bell Run on Saturday.

She's been toying with the triathlon thing, and her training was flagging. I said the best thing she could do is sign up for something. So she did.

She was totally freaked out. Wasn't sure she could do the distance. Wasn't sure she could do it at all. I asked her what she planned to wear. She said uh, cotton pants, and a fleece. I said no no no no no...come to my house and I'll dress you.

Pants and a fleece. Huh!

I put her in good running tights, a long sleeved run top, and a Santa hat. Well it was the jingle bell run! The day of the event it spitted rain, it hissed, it blew. The wind said NO NO GO HOME AND GO BACK TO BED. We disobeyed, like the bad girls we are.

At the race, I put her in a waterproof jacket (the only windproof thing she had) and pushed her out of the car after a Gu.

But it's not time, she said. Oh, it's time. Get out there, mama! Out into the elements we went, to cling to humanity. With bells on. (seriously. They gave us bells in the schwag bag!)

Me, I stupidly underdressed. Overconfident me, in capri tights and a skirt. I put on a water resistant windbreaker, and wouldn't you know, as soon as I left the car it started to rain.

Oh yes, I got soaked.

I ran her pace.

She ran a bit, walked a bit. Rinse, repeat.

I really got soaked.

On the way, I encouraged. I told her stories about Badwater. Really, she had no idea people could do such things. I said the human body can make itself run 135 miles in Death Valley in the summer up a mountain - you can do a 5K in the rain, I don't care if you are 60. You trained for this! I told her about pacing. I taught her about snotrockets.

Truly, it was a mother-daughter experience.

She. did. Awesome! She did it in sub-40 (I think 39 and a half minutes). I bet she won an age group award, but I can't find out where the danged results are posted!

We got back to the car. I did my usual bitching about getting wet - and she started chattering like a bird.

I feel good. Does it always feel this good? Is this why you do this? Gee, I'm starting to understand this. Is this what they call runner's high? How long does it take before it wears off? When can I do another one?

I said, it's official, you are a crackhead, welcome to the club.

+++++++++++++++++

On Sunday, I took the kids to see My Little Pony, live and in person. Allegedly, it was My Little Pony, World's Biggest Tea Party. By the way, don't believe what you read -- there was no tea. It was not a party.

I would not have gone out of my way to promote more toy buying from Hasbro, but it happens that I got the tickets for free (thanks Bones), so I sprung the surprise on them. I figure there is a circle in hell for mothers who turn down free tickets to things that little girls like - no matter how loathsome they may be.

And my little pony is right up there on the loathsome scale. On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being "you just stepped in vomit," ponies is about a 12.

How would I know how it compares? Because as it happens, I did step in vomit on the way out. Some kid (who, by the way, was way too old for ponies) spewed in the bathroom as we were taking our goodbye pee. She couldn't even make it to the toilet, she just let fly right there on the floor in the doorway to the bathroom. I was happy to step in the puke, so long as it was on my way out the door and away from the ponies.

Anyway. Ponies. My little Pony. I thought perhaps seeing them in a live show would reveal some redeeming qualities - or maybe help me differentiate between them. Or maybe add some interesting dimension to their characters. They are all allegedly as unique and special as everyone, right?

No. They are all vague shades of pastel. They all have cutie marks which are virtually indistinguishable from 1 mile away. They all have disproportionate features. They all have the same fucking voice. This is a genius marketing ploy - NOBODY can tell them apart.

I asked my girls if they could tell which pony was which (they should be the experts, right?). The answer I got was no, not really.

I was ready to start sawing at my wrists with a butter knife about 2 minutes in - but there were no such implements within reach. I'm so confused. When will the ponies stop talking and moving?

I was begging my children to misbehave. To be bored. Something. Anything. C'mon, make me take you out. Let's go home. I'll buy you a real pony.

No. They were perfect. In fact, they shushed me: Mommy, be quiet, I'm watching the ponies. The kids in the seat in front of them were beside themselves with boredom. They were kicking seats, they were saying "MOMMY I WANT TO GO HOME." but their mothers were locked in some childhood fantasy haze which kept them glued to their seats.

Or they were high.

Anyway. I feel better now, because I HAVE AN i-PHONE! MUA HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

And also, I finished the wheel project. Behold, Irene, In all her pink and Zebra glory!

Yeah yeah yeah, I know. Those are Vredstein white tires, what was I thinking?

I was thinking they looked danged cool! Plus, on a long ride on a good road, the dirt flies off and they sparkle. I've seen it. I'm looking forward to it!