Follow Feet

Apparently I look like a fish gasping for water when I run.  Pictures from the Grand Canyon Half Marathon were published today on Lucid Images. These horrifying embarrassments are available for a price. Scanning through the images of "OK" signs, frowns, "Rock On" hand signals, and "I think I am dying right here and right now" faces, I saw my own face. First thoughts? THAT IS SOME SERIOUS FISH FACE.  OK so it's not that bad, but everybody is pretty skeptical when it comes to pictures of themselves. I would post the pics for your inspection, but I'm cheap and refuse to pay $20 for duckface. You will have to be satisfied with the after-image.  Quick story about this pic... 2 minutes before this was taken, I had the pleasure to be reintroduced to chocolate milk after a race. Note to self: Chocolate milk after running is bad for Katelin. I do not care what the commercials say; Chocolate milk makes my stomach go through acrobatic maneuvers...

For a definition of the "butt-crack of dawn," you should only be awake before 4 am; therefore, by definition, we were awake and driving at the butt-crack of dawn. 2:45 am and driving. No coffee. Lethal combos. Hank and I were obliged to leave for the Grand Canyon Half Marathon early enough to sign in before 6 am three hours away. The only reason I was not trying to hide Hank's body by the time we reached our destination was the timely interferance of Claire de Lune. Note on classical music and my non-coffee moods: I am a monster without coffee. Think Frankenstein's bride plus Hannibal Lector with a dash of Regina George and you will get the picture. That said, classical music cages the monster with melodies of heartbreak. It washes over my irritated soul to find the human under the fur. Back to the story: We arrived at the Grand Canyon at the hour of 5:00 and were  among the first runners to sit in semi-frozen cars awaiting the starting gun at 7:00 am. YES. Planni...

Yes. There was a snake, and it was in the door. I walked to school today, as I do every day, to get books for class planning. There ends the normal day. I noticed that the back door for the school was slightly ajar. I opened the door to go through. I looked down, something moved. Moving critters are not strangers to the area, and mostly consist of Jerusalem crickets, stinkbugs the size of your thumb, scorpions, or lizards. A moving strand of scales and danger about 3 feet long writhed between the door and the door frame just below the hinge. After a millisecond of casual visual investigation, the neurotransmitters of my brain sent two impulses through my body in rapid succession. First Impulse: Scream like you are a small rodent on fire for a duration of two seconds before realizing what you just accomplished. Second Impulse: Shut door like the door is the only thing separating you from a horde of zombie superheroes. Effectively trapping the bull snake half in and half out ...

With Saturday's half-marathon completed in Katelin's record time of 2 hours and 45 minutes, Sunday sprang optimistically to the window in the form of gray clouds and slight sunshine. My eyes eeked open to the mental collapse of "WHY?!?!" screeching from my sleep addled brain. Blame fell menacinglly to the cause of my disquiet: the alarm clock.* Sweet revenge played itself in my mind as a Brain Stinking Ninja appeared suggesting a projectile clock through a closed window. I restrained myself to smashing it with the most lethal pillow I could find at such short notice until the time registered to meaning. I had a to-do-list twice as large as any usual Sunday. Twice a month, I bring goodies for people to eat. Sunday's menu? Shortbread cookies. I LOVE these little pieces of heaven, so the promise of fresh baked delights extricated me from the shelter of sheets and launched me into the kitchen. - . - . Baking Cookies, Getting Ready, Leaving for Church, and other Bo...

Today, all I find myself contemplating beneath the healthy glow of florescent lights are the Brain Stinking Ninjas. Background: Brain Stinking Ninjas are thoughts of the most awkward, immature, and embarrassing actions I could take at any given moment. These thoughts usually occur when I am nervous, bored, excited, or breathing. Just a few of the Brain Stinking Ninjas I did NOT act on: 7:30 am- I REALIZE I WON'T TEACH HISTORY FOR THE NEXT FEW YEARS: Get the urge to run screaming "The British are Coming!" up and down the school hallway. 7:45 am- HUNGER GAMES SOUNDTRACK COMES UP ON ITUNES: Social Experiment: Begin "Hunger Games" of throwing pies in my classes. Pie in face = "dead". Survivor wins an A. 8:00 am- STUDENTS ARRIVE: Pat each student on the head repeating "Aw, sweet heart, you can't help it." 8:30 am- LEARNING ABOUT CARBON FOOTPRINTS: Begin game of tag with socks representing carbon footprints. Tags must be in the face to...

How I Came To Fall in Full View of Everyone I Know at a Race Yesterday Once upon a time, there was a girl filled with a beautiful flight of thought. She ran a race with time. Absorbed as she was in thoughts of frogs battling salamanders, she forgot to lift her feet. Suddenly, the ground shifted, the Earth quaked, and sand swirled around her in an epic fury of wind and exfoliation. An invisible power locked his gritty grip on the foot that had disrupted his sleep. She moved too fast for a sure handle, but he caught the toe of her shoe. The results were catastrophic. Down. Down. Down in a blaze of swirling furry went our heroine's face to the ground. He thoughts ceased to dwell on the coming battle of amphibian domain. The only link to fantasy was shattered in a moment leaving nothing but a cry from the depths of her brain. "That ground is getting close. Shut your eyes, idiot!" She hit the ground with a thud and a cloud of dust. Looking back, she thought she could se...

You are loud. You are obnoxious. You are head-strong. You are prone to mistakes. You make gargantuan messes. You never bring a pencil or a pen. You get more distracted than any... Squirrel! You make teaching difficult with rudeness and disrespect. You make me contemplate a very personal game of whack-a-child. You make me contemplate a very useful round of self-evaluation. You make teaching brilliant with curiosity and  excitement. You get more joy out of life than any otter! You never forget to live your own life. You make me laugh so hard I cry. You are filled with possibility. You are free-spirited. You are talented. You are you. When I talk, I talk about you. When I work, I work for you. When I cry, I cry for you. When I hope, I hope for you. Somehow, you have taken over my life. It was a hostile takeover, but one that I will never regret because it allowed me to see beyond myself. I love each and every one of you.