I don’t think that it’s any secret at Jedi Mama, Inc. that I’ve had a problem lately with the pretzel M&Ms.
I’m not paddling that yacht alone, because Hubs is below deck, throwing the perfectly salty-crunchy-and-sweet candy around and dancing with happy abandon.
(Which is why he does that BELOW DECK. Hubs, you see, loves the pretzel M&Ms almost as much as I do, but he isn’t a dancer. He successfully helped me FLUNK a ballroom dancing class that some friends of ours bullied us into taking with them long before the boy was born.)
(It was all Hubs’ fault that we flunked.)
(Because Hubs wouldn’t dance right, and he kept squeezing my hand and hissing in my ear, “Navy SEALS don’t dance! We don’t have time for this nonsense! We impress our women by jumping out of helicopters and shooting bad guys; we don’t impress them with a foxtrot.”)
(To this day, that was the ONLY class I ever flunked in my life.)
I called The Betty Ford about my addiction to the pretzel M&Ms, and I committed myself to clamoring up on the wagon and getting clean. And then, when the team of horses and I rounded the corner and were out of sight, I drove the wagon straight to the nearest general store and bought the party-sized bag to hide under the quilts on the wagon train, for when times get hard.
So, the pretzel M&Ms and I are fully back on, which is why, people, I downloaded the Couch to 5K app onto my iPhone a few weeks ago.
I wasn’t going to air my exercising laundry on the blog, because then people will ask, “How’s that training for the 5K coming along?” and I’d have to answer by saying, “Oh, swimmingly. I sit on the sofa and let the woman in my phone shout out ‘RUN NOW’ a dozen times each day.”
Actually, this is the slowest Couch to 5K training program known to mankind, because I like to take my time and run slowly on the treadmill on Sundays while I’m watching Judge Wopner.
And then! Well, I’ve had two friends say, “I’ll download the same app, and we can run together!” And then I have to tell them, “Listen. Running is a very private thing for me,” and I leave it at that. I like to let my friends believe that I’m ALL ABOUT THE RUNNING and ALL ABOUT THE RUNNER’S HIGH and ALL CRAZY MAD ABOUT FITNESS, but the honest truth is that I simply don’t run in public, because I’m afraid I’d look a little like Phoebe from Friends.
And then no one would ever run with me again.
Well, the little lady in my iPhone and I get together frequently now, and she tells me when to walk and when to run, and I tell her all kinds of things, most of which cannot be retold here on the blog, because Jedi Mama, Inc. is a family company. In all honesty, though, I like her better than I like Doris, our computerized GPS lady. Doris yells at me, and she’s always telling me to TURN SOUTH, when really? I don’t know if TURNING SOUTH means GO LEFT or GO RIGHT. Plus, Doris always says, “IN POINT-SIX MILES, TURN WEST,” when what I WANT Doris to say is, “IN A FEW BLOCKS, YOU’RE GOING TO SEE A CUTE YELLOW HOUSE WITH ENORMOUS POTS OF RED GERANIUMS OUT FRONT; TURN LEFT BY THAT HOUSE.” Gloria (the Couch to 5K lady in my iPhone) is a whole lot more polite to me, but that’s probably because she doesn’t have a bead on me with the global tracking mechanism, so Gloria never really knows when I fall off the treadmill to lay, in a sweating heap, on the floor for a rest.
But honestly, this week when friendly Gloria told me to RUN NOW, I did, and sweet mercy! I ran the entire thing and thought to myself, “I think I could have even run another eight feet, had she asked me to.” And, although Gloria didn’t shout out, RECALCULATING, like nasty Doris does, she wasn’t there to pat me on the back either. I texted Hubs and said, “I think I’m an athlete now; I just ran when Gloria told me to, and I didn’t puke today.”
But let’s face reality, people.
Not puking when Gloria tells you to run is not synonymous with RUNNER’S HIGH. Not puking when Gloria tells me to run just means that I survived the woman’s bossiness for another day.
I’ve been working up some courage on the treadmill lately.
And then today, I checked my Facebook page, which is somewhat surprising, because Facebook and I don’t date much. I know it’s the DAWN OF SOCIAL NETWORKING and the HUB OF STAYING CONNECTED, but I simply don’t have the time to sit down and scroll through all the posts all of the time, because I’m busy training to run for sixty second intervals and trying to chisel toothpaste off of the boy’s bathroom sink.
But today… Well, I checked Facebook, and my friend Missi had posted a picture that made me laugh until I cried. And I know that I say that I lot — that I howled with uncontrolled giggles until I’d wet myself — but y’all! It was simply no exaggeration this morning. I laughed, all alone at the computer, until I couldn’t breathe and considered sneaking a hit off the boy’s inhaler.
Because even though Gloria and I are making some serious progress together, I’m pretty sure that my progress doesn’t LOOK PRETTY.
It’s almost as ugly as Hubs’ foxtrot.