(Except about newborn jaundice. I just don't find anything funny about hyperbilirubin).
That aside, be forewarned: this blog is about to get hilarious.
Because I signed up for the Las Vegas Rock 'n' Roll Marathon yesterday. Yup, the full marathon, not the half. All 26.2 scenic miles that takes a glorious route down the Strip at night (cool), through Fremont and downtown (kinda cool), under the 95 (huh?) and then onto MLK and Carey (wha??). But let's be honest here - whether running through an urban jungle or an actual jungle, the fact remains I committed to run twenty-six point two miles. In one day. Hell, in one evening.
Now that's perseverance.
Until Reiner, the trainer at Boot Camp, told me in no uncertain terms, "Keem," (his accent is so great) "I have run 38 marathons in my life -" (thirty-eight marathons?!) " - and the worst, by far, are the races in January."
Huh. There goes that plan.
His rational was pretty sound; with amount you are running, it's nearly impossible to run consistently with all of the activities of the holidays. The schedule is just too cramped, too packed, and the stress level is too high. Food, obviously, is an issue. (You can't train on leg of lamb, Bourdeaux, and cresent cookies?)
So I scrapped Phoenix and set my sights on November. Two options: Santa Barbara on November 9 or Vegas (hometown! Woot!) on November 17. Santa Barbara meant running in the morning, through groves of lemon trees, down to the ocean among several thousand runners. Vegas was a Sunday night run, through some questionable Vegas landmarks, no lemon trees, with 50,000 of my closest running friends. If you know me, you know 1.) I hate crowds, 2.) I love lemon trees and the ocean and 3.) running in the morning is my favorite thing to do (aside from drinking coffee and going to boot camp).
So how did Vegas win? Mainly because I wanted Brian and Scotty to be there. With Brian's trial schedule in the fall, there's a 100% he'll be able to attend the race, versus only a better than average chance he could go to Santa Barbara. Santa Barbara, though only five hours away, seemed like too much of a headache. I'm slightly afraid of getting sick again (like in 2011) and would rather drive 10 minutes to sleep in my own bed than be a state away. Plus, I want Scotty to me get my medal...and to know Mom is kind of a bad ass. And then to likely watch Mom vomit on her shoes.
So, Vegas it is. Yaaaay.
I'm nervous, I'm excited. I can't believe it's only 14 weeks (111 days) away. For the girl who took 22 months to plan her wedding and lamented over the fact the human gestation period is nine short months (who can prepare for a baby in that tiny bit of time?!), 14 weeks seems like nothing more than a blip on the radar. But maybe I won't have time to over-think matters? Maybe the pain will be temporary?