Semi-Charmed Kind of Life

I run for the bling.

Or at least, I like my running related bling.

Back in October 2012, when I crossed the finish line for my first Twin Cities Marathon, I remember receiving that first finishers medal and feeling this overpowering sense of accomplishment. They placed that beauty around my neck and I felt like I was a different person than the one that had toed the start line just a few hours earlier.

As I wandered around the finishers' area, sort of disoriented and in shock, the one thing that kept me grounded was the feel of that medal. Its weight, its slight sway and "thump" against my chest, as I moved clumsily about.

I wore it as we waited for my PIC to cross the line. I wore it as we hit the nearest fast-food joint to re-fuel.

I reluctantly removed it to get into the shower, and eyed it wistfully as we left to go and celebrate our accomplishment with some hard-earned ink.

The next day, when we left for the airport, that puppy was proudly worn around my neck. Not the most fashionable statement necklace in the world, but I just did. not. care. I wanted anyone who looked at me, shuffling slowly along, to know that I WAS A MARATHONER!

I was like Howard Wallowitz from The Big Bang Theory, after he got back from outer space...I'd find a way to work that fact into practically any conversation..."oh, you are flying home to see your parents for the first time in 3 years? Thats, great...I'm flying home to show my parents my finisher's medal."

The following day, when I went to work, I wore my medal. There were a few raised eyebrows but, in general, everyone was good natured and gave me "atta-girls"...even if it was after asking me "How far was your marathon?"

For a few weeks after that, the medal was actually stashed in my laptop bag...a constant reminder that I could do anything I set my mind to. Eventually, I made peace with the fact that I would have to hang it up instead of dragging it with me everywhere...at least I had the ink on my foot, to remind me.

In the weeks leading up to the marathon in 2014, my "virtual goody bag" arrived from Twin Cities in Motion. I scrolled through the coupons and offers, mentally discarding most of them on account of them being extremely locational. Although we would be *in* Minneapolis, I don't *live* there and so most of the "deals" were not something I could take advantage of.

Except for one...

There was an ad for a jeweler, Scott James Sports Jewelry, that caught my eye.

I clicked over to the store and I audibly gasped...they had charms that were in the shape of the logo that is inked on my foot!

They were beautifully rendered *and* they were reasonably priced.

I swooned and immediately texted my bestie to share in my excitement.

That Christmas, to my extreme delight, Mr. Man and the kidiots gifted me with 3 beautiful charms...the TCM logo, a 26.2 disk and a bar that said "Twin Cities"...one charm for each time I had run the marathon.

I had them soldered to my Tiffany & Co. Charm bracelet, that I never, ever, ever take off...and have gleefully worn them every day since.

2 of the original 3...

It's like being able to wear my medal everywhere I go.

One morning, a week or so before the 2015 marathon, I woke up and discovered that the delicate maple leaf in one of my charms had apparently snagged something and broke...I was pretty bummed, but took it as a metaphor of sorts...I might be a little beaten up and worse for wear, but that doesn't take away from my accomplishments.

The weekend of the marathon, we were in Minnesota and made our way to the expo. As we wandered around, I spotted the now familiar logo and bolted over to the Scott James booth. After fangirl-ing for a minute or two I mentioned my broken charm and asked if it was possible to fix it. Sadly it was not, however, they took the broken charm and replaced it for me, ON THE SPOT. I was utterly speechless...a condition, dear reader, I am certain you have by now ascertained is quite unfamiliar to me.

If I hadn't already been in love with their product, and their company I was now. I constantly trolled their inventory to see if any of my other favorite races had been added to their repertoire.

I may or may not have entered lotteries for races specifically because I could then get myself that charm. ::cough::

As 2016 kicked off, we signed up for the Cape Cod Ragnar, and I knew *exactly* what my next charm would be. I anxiously awaited the early May race, as much for the race as for the bragging rights that would allow me to add that charm...I'm not even sure our whole team had finished their third lap before I had that puppy ordered.

Recently, I happened upon the super exciting news that Scott James was introducing an Ambassador program. I eagerly applied and held my breath...

...and so, it is with the utmost excitement and pride that I can announce that I have officially joined the Scott James Sports Jewelry team of Ambassadors! I couldn't be more excited and am hoping that you all will give their shop a little look-see...I'm certain you won't be disappointed. And, because they are super awesome, they have armed with a sweet 15% of discount code that I can share with you!

Visit them by either clicking the badge on the side of my page or here and enter code AMB-b35st95d.

As for me, I'm eyeing up my next charms...I've got another Ragnar coming up, so I'm counting the days till that beauty makes its way to my bracelet.

Are You Being Fresh?

Life is busy, yo. There are not enough hours to get all of the things done that I want to get done, that I need to get done, that have to get done. I mean, somehow we always figure it out, but something always needs to be sacrificed. Totally not complaining, because I recognize that the mere fact that I am as busy as I am is a product of my privilege.

I am privileged to be healthy enough to run the miles I run.
I am privileged to have a job that inspires me to work all of the hours.
I am privileged to have children that are healthy and happy and bold and engaged enough to want to be in all of the activities.
I am privileged to be able to afford to keep them in these activities.

I get it, my blessings are more than abundant. My time? Much less so.

In order to get things to all balance out I am, perhaps, a bit of a *control freak*...but also pretty much a time management expert, so whenever I find something that might potentially help me to "herd my cats", I'm all about trying it out.

When the kidiots were much younger, like 1 & 2, and we still lived in sunny South Florida, our local grocery chain introduced an online shopping and doorstep delivery service. Not surprisingly, I swooped in on that, like a hawk. It was an awesome invention and I was willing to pay a bit of a premium for it.

I would log onto their website, while I was in the lactation room, pumping breast milk and check off the items on my grocery list. Once I had it all done, I'd checkout and schedule my delivery for a 2 hour window that would work for me. (i.e., a Saturday, NOT during nap time.)

Saturday morning would arrive and bright and early and, right on time, a big truck would pull up, a friendly delivery driver would call my cell phone (because I specified on delivery instructions to NOT ring the bell as that would set the dogs off in a tizzy) and I would greet him at the door. He'd then lay out a plastic "runner" of sorts, but on little cloth "booties" and wheel my purchases in, on a dolly so as not to dirty my floors.

It was a Godsend.

But, apparently either I was the only one that thought so or they were just waaaaay before their time.

Almost as quickly as this lifesaver started, it stopped. It was gone. I was super bummed.

Fast forward 13 years, and I find myself living deep in the heart of PA Dutch country, among Amish folks and Mennonites and cows and corn. Our town has hitching posts for horses. Our Walmart has a special parking area that is designated for the horse and buggy crowd. We are not terribly modernized.

We *do* have a college, which explains why we have a Walmart.

There are a few solid grocery stores in town, and I live less than a mile from one of them. Giant has some nice features...a great "Bonus Card" program that allows me to load digital coupons to my shopping card and a gas station that I can earn points worth money off my gas for.

Anyway, I was making a point here...I knew my hopes of having a grocery delivery service any time soon were pretty slim, so I tried to block the blissful recollection from my mind.

And then a wonderful thing happened. My best work friend, K,  mentioned "Amazon Fresh". She said it was like regular Amazon...but for groceries.

I was intrigued. (Truth be told, pretty sure she was too)

As an existing Amazon Prime member, I could try it for free. As long as I bought at least $40 worth of groceries, there would be no delivery charge.

Let's be real. I have a 13 year old and a 15 year old. $40 worth of groceries? Shit man, they eat that in a sitting.

So we logged on, at work, during lunch and started to populate my cart with items. I found a good number of things that I can't get in my local stores - or varieties of favorites that I didn't even know existed...for the most part, the pricing was pretty comparable to my local grocery stores. Some items were a bit spender, but some were decidedly cheaper.

I added yogurt, sour cream, lettuce, tomatoes, garlic, lemon juice and Craisins. (We eat A LOT of yogurt...)but then we got distracted and wound up abandoning my cart and getting back to work.

The next day, we picked back up where we left off, but decided to look at the delivery windows...I realized that I *needed* some of the items before Monday (it was Friday) and if I couldn't get a delivery the next day, well, our experiment would have to wait a week.

To my immense relief, there were Saturday windows. There are two categories of delivery: Attended and Unattended. There were no Attended slot left, so instead I selected Unattended. This provided me with a few 3 hour windows that I could choose over the next two days.

I selected Saturday 7-10am. Once selected, it stated that my slot was reserved for the next 60 minutes. I would need to check out within that window, or I would lose my slot.

I clicked back over to the "store" and added a last few items, to round me out to $40.

Checkout was the standard Amazon checkout process, so simple and fast. I used my Amazon Visa card as my payment method, so I earned 5% back on my purchase.

Once I checked out, I noticed that there was a message that said I could still add items to my order...which is a pretty nice feature for someone that is constantly juggling all of the balls. I am not sure what the cut off is for how close to your scheduled delivery you can add items, but I can envision starting an order on a Monday for a Saturday delivery and just continuing to add items to it all week, as we run out of things.

Needless to say I was pretty excited this morning, in anticipation of my first delivery. (K? Every bit as anxious...she texted me *while I was typing this up*)

Some time between 9 and 10 they quietly came to the door and left my parcels...

Those are cute little totes, wonder if I get to keep them?

I may or may not have squealed when I saw them sitting there, waiting patiently for me to discover them.

I brought them inside and noticed that they were clearly marked with instructions on what I should do with them:

Sweet! Reusable!

I opened the first one, which contained my perishables:

They were protected under a thermal blanket and then, under that, three substantial ice packs. Granted, it's the dead of winter in South Central PA, so defrosting was never really a concern, but this looks like it would be adequate, even in the summer.

Everything I ordered was there, and in pristine condition, so I would call this adventure a success. I will continue testing it out, next time with loose produce and meat products.

My only reluctance here would be about not earning the gas points, but as K and I worked out, the 5% cashback that I am getting is worth much more than the $.10 off per gallon that I get for every $100 I spend in groceries...but there is something kind of vindicating about pulling up to the pump, swiping my bonus card and watching the price of gas drop before my eyes...ah well, perhaps if I had a MUCH BIGGER gas tank.

Stay tuned for updates on additional Amazon Fresh orders. I'm sure you can hardly wait. ;)

**This is NOT a sponsored post. The opinions expressed here were not solicited and I am not being compensated for them at all...though if Amazon would like to throw me a bone, I wouldn't turn them down...

My First *Fix*

I typically like to see myself as being immune to advertising...somehow above being coerced into buying things just because a splashy ad tells me that I want it. I suppose we probably all want to think of ourselves as being strong willed and strong minded enough to withstand the pressure and just do our own thing...

For well over a year now, I have been seeing ads for Stitch Fix pop up all over my social media. First as ads on Facebook. Then in the form of sponsored pins on my pinterest.

"Pffft.." I thought.
"Not gonna suck *me* in...no sirree bob. Nope. Not a chance."
"Wow, that really *is* a cute outfit...I bet it's a bait and switch."

...and finally, one night, when I was reasonably certain that no one else was looking, I clicked on one of the banner ads and started to read up on what it was all about.

I filled out the profile...

...but did *not* schedule a "fix" for myself. Because hey, you're not the boss of me! I'm not going to cave to the peer pressure. Also, I'm *frugal*.

A few weeks ago, I started seeing more and more people posting pictures from their "fixes"...and I was quietly impressed...I thought "Hmmm, I could totally see myself wearing *that*..."

Finally, earlier this week, I decided "what the heck!" I recently got a promotion and a healthy raise and by golly, why *not*?!? I figured, I 'll try it once, probably hate it, will send everything back and that will be that.

Click, click, submit...next thing I knew, I got an email advising me that my "fix" would be here on February 28th or sometimes thereabout.

So, imagine my shock and nervous delight, when I came home to a white and aqua box *today*, fully 4 days *early*...

As TGC and I walked up to the house I nonchalantly asked her to pick up the mail and carry it in for me. (Play it cool, play it cool)

I said my hellos to the fur babies and TBC...

Then casually picked up the box and CHARGED UP THE STAIRS LIKE A TODDLER AT CHRISTMAS...

As soon as I was in my room, with the door safely shut behind me, I stared at the box in nervous anticipation...

What would I find inside of it???
What if I hated it?
What if I loved it?
What if I loved it but none of it fit???????

#firstworldproblems

Finally I took a deep breath and cut open the tape...and found parcels, wrapped in white paper and a small envelope with some papers in it.

In there, I found what I initially thought was *another* advert...until I noticed that my name was on the top...hmmmm...

Instead of an advert, I found it was a note from my stylist, Amber. In it, she mentioned perusing my pinterest style boards...and as such she had included boyfriend jeans (WITHOUT holes!!!!!!), a striped shirt, a cargo jacket and a "little black dress".

She pinterest stalked me...which almost felt creepy...except...I loved it.

At that point, there was no holding me back...I removed the parcel form the box, tore open the white paper and started going through the items. I loved the look at feel of each of them...

...at which point a mile panic set in...what if none of it fits????

Skeptically, I pulled on the jeans. Jeans and I have a love-hate relationship. I have really long legs and a really short waist. My waist is also pretty small in comparison to my hips and butt. And though my legs are long they are a runner's legs...strong and muscled.

To my astonished delight, the jeans fit. And well.

Oh my! Boyfriend jeans sans rips??

Next I unfolded the navy blue and white striped shirt. It seemed pretty basic and I thought, "Well, *this* one I can surely send back..."

And then I saw it...the shirt has elbow patches!!! I LOVE this sort of detail. My heart skipped a little beat and then I started to brace myself for the inevitability of the sleeves being too short. Because they almost always are. Because I have monkey arms. That my knuckles don't drag on the ground is nothing short of a mystery.

I slid the shirt on and the sleeves are PERFECT. And the shoulders and neckline flattering! ::swoon::

Next I eyed the cargo jacket...I really, really, really wanted it to fit. I tried it on but alas, it is a bit tight across the shoulders and the sleeves are a little short for my liking...

That left the black dress...which is super soft...and has nice detailing around the bust and neckline. I slid it on, over my head and was delighted to discover that it fit me like it was made for me.

The last thing left in the box was an accessory...a pair of earrings. Nice, intricately detailed but not my thing.

So 3 out of 5 are keepers and 4 out of 5 are a perfect match to my taste. Not quite enough to get the discount for keeping all 5, but I'd call this first run a success...now I just need to be patient until my next fix, coming up on March 28th! Stay tuned!

Do I Have the Words?

I woke up this morning, in a world that feels changed.

Yesterday was election day, and I was able to do something quite incredible, I was able to vote for a woman for the office of President.

It was a heady and exhilarating experience.

Adding to the gravity of what I was doing was the knowledge that I was also, effectively voting *against* a candidate that has come to represent, in my eyes at the very least, the seedier underbelly of America. The disgusting little primal demon that may exist in each of us that we choose to quash, every day. For me, that level of hate, of distrust, of fear and loathing of other people is really an alien concept...I guess you could say that I am (happily, proudly) hopelessly out of touch with my darker side.

Also making this election exceedingly significant to me is the fact that it is the first one that *both* of my children are obsessively aware of. As 8th and 9th graders, they are no longer "little kids". Though many of their peers are still in the "parroting their parents' beliefs" phase, mine have been going out of their way to learn about the candidates and ask questions. They have formed their own opinions and have a burgeoning understanding of exactly what is at stake.

As the results started to roll in last night, the tensions were increasing.

My youngest was panicky and getting increasingly frantic. Still young enough to revert a bit to "little kid" mode fairly effortlessly, she devolved into a series of "no, no, no" utterances...

My eldest watched with an increasing sense of disbelief and incredulity. The faintest tone of cynicism started to creep into his tone of voice...taking me as much by surprise as the recent changes to his voice, wrought by puberty had a few months back.

I sent us all to bed (minus Mr. Man because he is a big kid and his bed time is outside of my jurisdiction), holding fervently to the hope that with a good night's sleep, things would look better in the morning.

Such is the luxury of being the eternal optimist. It will all be alright, because it just *has* to be.

My alarm sounded at it's usual hour and I pretended to be woken by it, even though I was already mostly awake.

I grabbed my phone and refreshed Google.

She didn't win. Dammit.

I felt sick and sad and scared and outraged.

I wanted to shake my virtual fist and scream my moral outrage at the ugliness that had been wrought.

A quick visit to Facebook - bad idea. very, very, very BAD idea - showed me that others were well ahead of me. Some wallowing loudly from the depths of despair and hopelessness. Others readying the torches and pitchforks. And others gloating over their candidates victory over mine.

My finger hovered over the reaction bar as I scrolled through this mess of emotions and I found myself at a complete loss. I don't know how to react. Where is the reaction for "scared"? Which face means "confused" or "worried" or "in shock"?

And then the root of my confusion crystallized for me: What am I going to tell my kids? How the hell do I explain this to them? How do I send them to school this morning, where they will be surrounded by peers who are reveling in a victory that they likely don't fully understand...they rooted for their parents' candidate in the same way that a small child roots for their parents' alma mater...not because they have cultivated their own personal interest into that school but because it means something to their mom and dad...how do I send them to be surrounded by that with adequate protection over their raw feelings about a candidate for whom they made a very conscious and informed decision to support? How do I help them to assuage their fears for their friends and classmates?

I can't *fix* this for them. And I can't fix this for me.

All we can do now is hope. Hope that with this result, the ugly that has been unleashed and whipped up into a fervor will feel satisfied and vindicated...hope that it will roll up its sleeves and now do the work to actually make changes that will be *great*.

As the eternal optimist, I can't help but to scan the horizon for the best place to set up my lemonade stand...it's practically reflexive.

And so I send my children - and in fact, myself - out into the world today with this simple message to the victors - Congratulations on your candidate's victory. I sincerely hope and am counting on your judgment that he is the best candidate and that his presidency will be a great win for all of us. So let's stop fighting and tearing one another down and instead, start working together to do great things.

We Live in a Van, Down by the River - Ragnar Style

If you've been following along, you've read the prologue...you've read the Pre-Ragnar chronicles, and you've heard all about the party. If you *haven't*, go ahead and click any of those handy-dandy links, to get caught up.

Caught up? Excellent...then let's get going...

Friday morning dawned relatively bright and chilly in Hull. We had all agreed to go down to the start, to see the our first runner off, for his first leg, even though the fine friends in van 2 wouldn't need to get running for quite some time. We headed out around 5:15 and drove straight to the beach. The sun was just starting to peak it's head out on the horizon line and though it was a tad bit nippy to be at a northeastern beach, the sunrise was totally worth the shivers...

*almost* enough to make you not miss your blankets

Of course, we had to take advantage of the scenic backdrop and the fact that we were all in our snazzy outfits, complete with Glitter Skirts to get our first team picture.

After that, we passed the time by, what else, taking some selfies!

Photobomber on the loose!!

The Executive Pastry Chef accidentally photobombing

This kid just keeps popping up in photos!

We also had some more traditional pics...

Some dude asked The Flash for this pic...
because he looked like "A Serious Runner"

The Mighty B was all smiles and grins!

"Get this thing off of me"

Our first runner was the PIC's brother, who had 6.7 miles to run...3-2-1 and our race had begun! We quickly headed back to the vans and piled in to start driving up the road, so that we could met him and get his headlamp and vest from him...6AM was technically still part of the "nighttime hours", so he had to start off wearing them...even though the sun was up.

We caught up with him right around mile 3, and he was looking strong. We helped him strip and then rushed off to the first handoff...which was to TBC, for a 3.58 mile jaunt.

He took off like a ROCKET. We hurried back to the van, and ran into some congestion trying to get out of the parking lot...by the time we got out on the road and passed him, he'd already cruised through half of his course. So we sped up and went to the second handoff where I would start my first leg...I rushed over to use a porta-potty...thankfully they have a "runner on deck" one reserved, so that you don't get stuck in a line...I stepped out of the loo and they called out our team number, meaning he was in the final stretch...I actually had to run over to the chute to get there in time, because he was FLYING...

He didn't enjoy that *at all*, lol...you can see me running off in the background

...and off I went for 8.62 miles.

Now, let me step back for a minute...when the PIC was talking us all in to this race, one of the "selling points" was the fact that it was "such a flat course." I call bullshit. On this leg alone, I gained 200+ feet of elevation in the span of 2 miles. With each successive leg, we gave the PIC more and more sideways eyeball...flat my ass!

Note the sharp incline...followed by a flat...and then another sharp incline...and then *what the fuck?!?!?!* 

It was grey and damp but about 65 degrees, so not terrible running weather...there were a handful of runners in my line of sight, at any given time, but unlike any other race I have ever done, there were no crowds or spectators..which was kind of weird. It felt more like a training run then anything. The scenery was pleasant enough...I mainly ran through some residential areas. It was a school day, and it was a little after 7AM, so there were lots of kiddos standing at bus stops, staring at me in all of my glittery glory...I simply called out to them "Stay in school!"

All was well and good and my team mates appeared along the course to cheer me on...which is awesome...and all was well...until suddenly, my watch lost it's mind...and stated chiming off miles every 10 steps or so. Not bueno. Before I knew it, my watch had me at 12 miles...and I hadn't the foggiest idea how far I had actually gone. Nor how far I had to go. I decided to look at the time elapsed and then extrapolate how far I might have already gone...which was a fruitless endeavor.

As I finally ran up on the "One Mile to Go" sign, I was pretty relieved...this run was harder than what I had been banking on, and I worried that it might be indicative of how the rest of this experience was going to be for me...all thoughts of this promptly fell out of my head though as I rounded the corner and headed down the chute, to hand off to Mr. Man.

I can totally see him at this point...

Mr. Man took off and we scurried to get ahead of him...he had had foot surgery just 6 weeks earlier, and we weren't even certain he would be *able* to run...when asked to provide a pace for him, I kept it extremely conservative and quoted around 10:15...in case he needed to walk.

Ha!

Ha ha ha ha!

That stinker blew through his 3.22 at a 8:19...so quickly that there were *no* pictures to be had of him. By either *us* or the official Ragnar photogs.

I'm almost done, right??

He handed off to the PIC, so that he could run his first 7.3 mile leg. We met up a couple of times, to give him water and praise, before finally heading off to the hand off, where he passed the slap bracelet to his SIL, so that she could bring it on home to  van #2, and the Flash.

Now, it needs to be said, PIC's SIL is not a runner. Or at least, she *was not* a runner before this. She and her new hubby - yes, they are newlyweds and A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E - decided to do this race together, as a means of getting fit and healthy and active together. That or they were drunk. I'm certain it was one of those...

Yeah! It's Mr. Man!!!

...at any rate, this was a HUGE undertaking for any of us, but perhaps mostly for her. She bit the bullet and was running 3 legs, each of a distance longer than she had really ever run before. She set out on that first leg with a big smile and a great attitude...

We drove ahead, so that we could greet her a few miles in, with some water and love...and stopped and took some silly shots...cause that's how we roll.

That first major van exchange was WILD. There was music and cheering and shopping and antics galore. Getting in to the area was sort of awful, as the exchange is at a small, private beach...you drive down a narrow, 2 lane road that is being shared by van traffic in both directions *and* runners. A bunch of us bailed out of the van to go over to the chute, so that we could be sure to catch the hand off while Mr. Man worked on parking the van.

The Arch!

 With the slap bracelet safely on the arm of The Flash, we made our way back to our van and headed out to find ice, real bathrooms and food that didn't come from a cooler...

We settled on a Target parking lot, and all of the other van 1 folks were kind enough to GTFO so that I could reorganize the van, because my eye was starting to twitch from the chaos that was the inside of the van...before too long, everything was in it's place and we headed over to Red Robin for some grenade and then on to our next van exchange point, to rest...

...and that is where I will leave you for tonight.

Party On Ragnar

When last we left our intrepid adventurers - at least *some* of them -  they had just arrived at Boston Logan.

Hi there!!!

Did you miss that part?  Well then, by all means, catch up on the adventures here and here...

See? Utterly GINROMOUS

We hailed an uber which, I have to say, is probably my favorite thing so far about living in 2016. 

Even if it has actually been *a thing* since 2009. 

What can I say? I was not an *early adopter*...but hey, I live in Amish country, so cut me some slack. It's not like they have uber horse ad buggy...or *do* they???

Anyway, first stop was the van rental place, Adventure Rentals. Let me pause here and give them a little love...the vans, though GINORMOUS, were AWESOME. Clean, new, comfy and utterly GINORMOUS.

After a few tense moments, figuring out that *someone*, who shall remain nameless, but who may or may not be photobombing the picture of the van, had somehow put the van into a strange "manual mode", we were on our way to our hotel.

While en route there, we heard from the NY crew, who were packing up into a car, to begin the trek northward.

From top left - Undercover Superhero, Brother of Undercover Superhero,
The Executive Pastry Chef,
The PIC's SIL and The PIC's Bro 

We checked in, without incident, piled into one of the vans and then made our way out to eat and then grab provisions...

Pillows - Check!
Water- Check!
Window Chalk Markers - Check!
Swedish Fish - Check!

...ok, we were good.

Also? It's pretty and airy...

We headed back to the hotel, to get ready for the pre-race party, which was held at Reebok headquarters and then took off for Canton.

Now, let me tell you a thing about the Reebok headquarters...I want to live there. They have a full sized soccer pitch...they have a rubberized 1/4 mile track, encircling one of the buildings. They have conference rooms that double as cardio studios. They have random treadmills just hanging out in the hallway. I'm pretty sure I could live there, happily ever after.

Oh, hello 1/4 mile track...

After ogling the grounds a bit, we headed in to the registration area, to check our team in and watch our safety video...

We checked in without incident and then heard from the NY crew that they were almost there...so we wandered around, taking in the sights, awaiting their grand entrance...

Gee, *what* kind of event was this?
Too bad there weren't any signs...

The Mighty B and The Flash had plans to take in a Red Socks game at Fenway, so they skedaddled out, but not before the NY crew got there and introductions were made...

I will say this, in the interest of full disclosure...for a party that was so widely publicized by Reebok/Ragnar, I was a little disappointed in what they had to offer. I was expecting something more like a typical race expo...I mean, there were some vendors, but probably no more than 5. The invite promised van decorating goodies and, best of all, FOOD TRUCKS. There were 2. We left hungry.

At some point, for reasons that I no longer remember, I was left alone in the expo...now, if you've been reading Duchess Pandora's Box for any length of time, you know darned well that this is a recipe for calamity...or at least something really messed up to go down.

This was no exception.

One of the 5 vendors was hawking some sort of race belt, calledThe Tube...now, I'll say this, it's quite comfy and stretchy. I know this, because one of the sales women grabbed me and slid one on me.

Which was awkward aplenty.

Then she went on to show me the various pockets.

By putting her hands into them.

While I was wearing the contraption.

Even more awkward.

She was especially exuberant in her demonstration of the rear pocket, right on my butt.

At which point I looked at her and said "Hey, this is the most action I've gotten all day...and I've already been patted down by TSA twice, so that is saying something."

She didn't seem to get the point.

At any rate, while a comfortable product, it has 2 major drawbacks (three if you count an overly handsy salesgirl)
1 - It's not waterproof or even wear resistant
2 - No bib clips

These two were really great sports!

Anyway, I finally managed to extricate myself from her groping, just in time to see the Amish arrive.

No, really. Ish.

I guess they *do* have uber.

Right after that, the NY crew made their grand arrival and we headed out to the food trucks and the van decorating.

Although Ragnar *did* supply us with some glass decorating markers, they were barely noticeable, so I am really, really glad that we stocked up earlier, at Walmart and Target.

The PIC's brother proved himself to be quite handy at reproducing the Sole Crushers logo on the van, so we of course had to document his efforts.

Such concentration 

Which were AWESOME.

Pretty sweet, eh?

We also decided that no van, carrying so many OD30 members, would be complete without a little "Daily Bunny" love, so we added him to our sweet ride.

The PIC is no Picasso, but it ain't half bad

Wile we were decorating, there were shenanigans...there was a beer mile going on, on the aforementioned track...Reebok was providing shoes for you to run a mile in while throwing back some cold ones...being a lightweight, I passed.

Zoolander and Hansel put in an appearance, as well, so I *had* to get a picture with them..though I have zero chill or blue steel apparently...

I'm more of a confused smile kind of girl myself...

Shortly after that, it was time to head back to Logan Airport and pick up Mr. Man and TBC. The drive into Boston at dusk was really pretty...and surprisingly fast!

That'll do Boston, that'll do...

We had them in the van in no time! We checked in with the others, to find out when and where the eating would go down...and checked in with the baseball buddies...who were having a ball, as it were...

Oh, and also, clearly a hot dog

We met up with the rest of the crew at a local place and threw down some grenade to fuel us for the next day's adventure and then headed back to the hotel to crash...

...the rest? Is a story for another day.

The Pre-Ragnar Agony...

If you haven't already read the intro, you might want to catch up, here...we'll wait.

Welcome back...now let's get going...

In the months leading up to Ragnar, there were circumstances and happenings and happenstances and unluckiness a plenty...

First, TBC broke his collarbone. He was out of commission for a full 8 weeks. Luckily, he was back in action by February, so plenty of time to recover for the race.

The Frankenfoot

Then Mr. Man finally got his much needed foot surgery scheduled...Huzzah! Except...they scheduled it for 6 weeks before Ragnar....whomp, whomp. Which made his ability to run the race...questionable...at best.

Then TBC got a nasty, awful terribly, very bad case of strep throat...which kept him out of school for a full week. As a responsible parent, it seemed pretty irresponsible to pull him from *more* school, to run a race...

So we posted that we had 2 spots available on our team, to see if anyone would bite...

...a week passed. No one did. (or at least we *thought* no one did...turns out they *did*...but Facebook, in it's inimitable wisdom, had moved the messages to the mythical and mysterious "Filtered Message Requests" folder. Never to be seen nor heard from again...or at least not until much too late.)

So we decided to cross our fingers, say a prayer and hope for the best. Original team stayed assembled, truant teenager and hobbled husband included.

The next big kerfuffle was an eleventh hour call from the van rental company...the PIC had reserved 2 15 passenger behemoths for us, months in advance...and now, suddenly, the company that he had rented them through had opted to shutter the doors on that location. So he had to scramble to find an alternative.

But, he's a hero, so he succeeded. And our epic journey seemed bound for greatness...I mean, really? What else could go wrong? Right?

Right??

RIGHT????

As I may or may not have mentioned in the past, I have really, really, REALLY shitty travel karma.

I set out for the airport at 3:20am on Thursday. My flight was set to leave at 6:54am.

I arrived at the airport to find that the security line looked like something out of pre-fast pass Disney World.  The line snaked around the corner, down the hall and straight on through to the far side of the moon.

I nervously started texting my husband and asking the TSA folks for guidance and maybe a little help...nope. They said "It's gonna be *close*."

I got to the gate 10 minutes before the flight was set to depart, and found the plane sitting there, presumably with my luggage safely stowed beneath it.

But the doors were shut.

I asked the nearest Spirit Air employee to help me...their answer was, quite simply, that I was not getting on that plane. 

The "fine" people of Spirit Air were gracious enough to be of absolutely no help whatsoever in helping me find an alternative flight arrangement.

They would rebook me...but not until the next day. Which wouldn't work, since we would be starting our run at 6AM.

They said they could put me on stand-by for the flight that Mr. Man and TBC were flying out on...but it wasn't a guarantee.

I asked if they could help me find a flight on another airline. Nope.

I was on the verge of tears and may have whimpered. I don't think they noticed...

Thankfully, Southwest was happy to have my business.

Oh goody. *Another* security line.

Less thankfully the terminals didn't connect with one another. So I got to go through a second security line. And pat down. But I made it. With an hour plus to spare...

Happily, I had a fully charged iPad and a rental of Deadpool to watch...so everything was coming up roses...FINALLY.

The flight was FULL. And of course, since I had only *just* booked it, I was in one of the later boarding groups. Which meant I was absolutely *guaranteed* a seat in the middle. Of two strangers. My *favorite* place to be.

I entered the plane and started eyeing my potential neighbors...looking for a pair that didn't appear to be too objectionable...but trying to hold off on making eye contact until I got close enough to attempt to give them the "sniff test". Don't judge, BO is a *thing*.

I found some likely contestants and decided to engage..."Hey, I don't snore, I don't talk, I won't take up much room and I promise not to bite, kick, thrash nor throw-up...mind if I sit between you?"

With an offer like that, how could they refuse?

The flight went off without any hitches, and I landed safely in Boston, without incident. I was met, at my gate, by the PIC...and then we scurried off to meet up with the rest of the early flight crew - the Flash, The Mighty B and Liz - performed a daring rescue of my luggage, which contained the all important Glitter Skirts, and then we called our Uber!

The Flash, The Mighty B, Liz, ME and the PIC

The rest...will come after some rest! 

Ragnar - The Prologue

Way back when, in 2012, when we were training for our first full marathon, my PIC (Partner In Crime) signed up to do a Ragnar Relay. I’d never heard of one, but it sounded like a grueling ordeal to me…2 vans, 12 people, 200 miles in 2 days, no sleep.

 The idea of being trapped in a van with so many people…*stinky* people…sounded awful. I’m a bit (read: 100%, Grade A) of an introvert, so really, not being able to get away from people and all of the stimulus for that long is my idea of torture.

To him, it sounded like the perfect way to check his 16 mile training run off, as it coincided pretty perfectly. Now, let me just put this out here…my PIC? Not a fan of the running. He’ll be the first to tell you that he actually *doesn’t enjoy* running. He likes *races*…he *hates* training.

Anyway, August came and he packed himself up and went on an adventure…and he LOVED it. Like passionately, fervently, religiously L-O-V-E-D loved it. And has spent every year since then trying to convince me to come out and run one with him. And I have resisted. Until this year.

One of my goals for this year – my top goal, actually – is to run with as many people that I know from the internet, in real life, as possible. Between Facebook and Instagram and Twitter and the blogosphere, I have made some really amazing running friends…most of whom I have never met. I want 2016 to be the year of running with them. So, when the PIC started posting about his Ragnar experience in the O’Dark Thirty Virtual Run Club on Facebook, we suddenly had the opportunity to gather 12 folks for a team…and before I knew what had happened, we had a team for Ragnar Cape Cod…Team Sole Crushers…

Our team consisted of:

Van 1

• Myself – No intro needed. At least I hope not. I mean, if you’re here and you need an intro, then I’m kind of confused about how you got here. You’re welcome for sure…but how did this happen?
• TBC (The Boy Child) – My 14 year old son. My first born, soccer loving, goofball of a kid.
• Mr. Man – The peanut butter to my bacon, the pickles to my ice cream, the one and true love of my life.
• The PIC – My bestie, my Partner In Crime
• The PIC’s Brother – Multi-talented, board game designing, food loving, real life teddy bear. Totally tolerable dude too. ;)
• The PIC’s Brother’s Wife – Just about the cutest, sweetest lady I have met in a long time.

Van 2

• The PIC’s Brother’s Cousin – Undercover Super Hero
• The PIC’s Brother’s Cousin’s Brother – Super nice, shirt-off-his-back kind of guy
• The PIC’s Brother’s Boss – This lady is a hoot. And a pastry chef. And a bad ass runner. So pretty much the total package.
• The Flash – My co-worker and dear friend. Dude is seriously speedy but is always willing and ready to slow down to *your* pace and stay with you. And he makes it all look *easy*. Like “Oh, sub 7 minute miles? NBD.”
• The Mighty B – We were cheerleaders together in high school and we still kind of are…this one totally defies the “dumb cheerleader mold” though and is a bad ass STEM teacher.
• Liz – OK…I tried to come up with a clever nickname but this is a warrior mama we are talking about here. She’s sweet and loving and passionate and fierce. We met online 15 years ago, when we were both fighting to become moms…and the fight hasn’t gone out of her yet.

So, the PIC was unanimously voted captain, and our adventure began...

Give Some Credit Where It's Due

Kids today get a pretty bad rap. They are entitled, indulgent and spoiled. They have never learned to lose, are used to getting their own way and don't respect their elders. Did I miss anything?

Social media is hailed as one of the evils of the modern day. By connecting with the world we have forgotten about privacy, modesty and boundaries. We fail to connect with the people around us because we are too busy connecting with people online. Sounds pretty bad, huh?

Kids *on* social media must then be one of the four horsemen. Right? Right??

Of course they are. Except for when they aren't.

The Saturday before last, a sweet, wonderful, young girl that we know, Ella*, collapsed, whilst at a sporting event due to an aneurysm. She was rushed to the hospital and placed into a medically induced coma, while the doctors worked to find the bleed and stop it, to save her life. This lovely child is the picture of perfect health and the product of healthy, wonderful, loving family. We have known her for years, and have been praying for her, constantly.

I remember, when I was in school, we had a classmate that passed away, unexpected, due to an aneurysm. She had a headache one day, laid down to take a nap and try to sleep it off, and just...never woke up.

It was shocking. It was upsetting. It was scary...

We learned about it quite a few days after it had happened. For the first several days, she was just...absent. It wasn't until the family started releasing details about funeral arrangements that the school took steps to pull us together and inform us. They made support resources available. They provided a structure and a framework for us to process the news and to deal with it. They offered helpful suggestions for how we could do something for the family. In short, the school held our collective hands and controlled the flow of information to us. and told us how to cope.

We learned about this young girl's aneurysm almost immediately. TGC and I had gone for a run. We came back and as she was preparing to post something on her instagram about our run, she noticed that her timeline was flooded with messages about her friend.

She turned those big, green eyes to me and asked "what does it mean, when a blood vessel in someone's brain bursts?"

Of all of the questions that I could ever envision coming out of my 12 year old's lips, that was certainly not one of them.

As she scrolled through her timeline, more information popped up. She looked at me and she said "Mama, it says here that Ella had an...an-ner-sym?..."

"aneurysm..."

"...during her swim meet. And that she was rushed to the hospital. It says here that she is in surgery..."

I reached out to the grown-ups that I knew, that might have been there...they didn't even seem to know *that* much. Word had not gotten circulated as quickly, through the parental social circles.

"Mom, we are all supposed to wear orange and fluorescent green, to school, on Monday, for Ella."

As the day wore on, more information started to trickle in, from the adults. Detailed information. Frightening information. We, as parents, were all in shock. We didn't know what to say or do. We couldn't answer our children's questions about *why* or *how* this could happen. We were certainly not organizing the communication to our kids or directing them on how to process the information. We weren't telling them, en masse, how to cope. I think we were all just *in shock*.

Later that day, posts started showing up on *my* timelines and feeds...beautiful signs and cards and posters for Ella...all with the hashtag #Ellastrong, all with her family members tagged.

Over the next several days, guardedly optimistic news would come out of the hospital. Ella seems likely to make a full and speedy recovery. As these tidbits have come along, we have passed them down to our kids...but they typically already seem to know. They have their own communication system up and running...and it is humming along way more effectively than ours.

On Monday, the whole school was a sea of orange and green. (Being a maroon and grey town, that is pretty unusual.) There were even teachers wearing their "Ella Colors".

...I mention all of this...these signs of solidarity...this outpouring of support...to highlight an important facet. All of this? Was organized by the kids. While we adults were reeling with the news and trying to fight our way past the "oh my goodness, what if that were *my* child...", the kids were mobilizing and organizing and rallying themselves around one of their own. They came up with the idea to wear the colors. They made the signs. They spread the word.

These kids that we are raising...they live so much of their lives *online*. They get such a bad rap, for being the social media generation...but maybe, just maybe it's not such a bad thing.

Social media is powerful. It's fast, lightening fast...it's wide reaching...and that scares us. You can be anyone or anything that you want, online...and to a largely cynical mindframe, that means something bad.

Social media is the ultimate crowd sourcing tool. Need a mob? It's on standby.

...but these kids? The ones who are growing up in it? They are so adept at using it...and so quick to channel everything that they have got into it...we immediately assume and worry that they will use it for bad...

...and then push came to shove. And they harnessed that power into making it do something good.

There are some bad eggs out there, sure. There always have been and there always *will* be, I am afraid. Nobody's parenting is *perfect*...but I can't believe, even for a second, that it's all *bad*. Are we all just mucking it up, all of the time? Really? Every parent that I know gives a shit. Every parent that I know wants not only the best for their child, but for their child to be a good person.

 If that is what we all want...if that is what we are all working towards...why do we automatically assume that we are falling down on that job? Have a little faith in the job we are doing. Give a little credit where it's due.

And give our kids a chance, to show us how much they have learned. They might just teach us a thing or two.





*Name changed for the privacy of the family.