Run, Baby, Run

Alright, alright, so my attempts at this blogging thing haven't panned out exactly the way I imagined so far. It's almost impossible for me, both by nature and circumstances, to do anything in any sort of consistent manner. I wasn't the most organized person BEFORE I had a tiny human crawling around my legs at every moment, trying to stick his fingers in outlets- when they are not grabbing tumbleweeds of dog hair from under the couch and trying to stick them in his mouth. But I am getting back on track....speaking of tracks, training for a marathon sucks. What the hell was I thinking? I mean I was thinking about my Seven jeans and how I still can't pull them up past my knees (Oh breastfeeding just melts the pounds off! LIES.) and how a marathon would really help take the baby weight off. You know what else takes the baby weight off? Not eating so much. And that's a hell of a lot easier on your knees than pounding the pavement for hours on end. But, I'm sticking with it. Partly out of the desire to achieve something I never thought I could do, but mostly because I already paid for it. So for the next few months, my life will continue to be: baby, run, baby, run, ice knees, cry, baby, run...you get the picture.

One small step for moms...

So I signed up for the Chicago marathon. To run it. I don't know what running a marathon actually entails, you know, aside from the whole 26.2 miles in between the Start and Finish lines. I mean I've heard about slopping on creams so things don't chafe, and the possibilities of losing toenails, and having to wear fanny packs full of the Goo that you suck on for nourishment, but I really have no idea how to train for one. Just run, right? It's actually Rebecca Romijn-Stamos-O'Connell's fault. I saw a pic of her on perezhilton.com (a website I must have accidentally navigated to on my way to foxnews.com) and her one month post-baby body. Post Babeees. Plural. As in twins. She was looking as svelte as a coke-addicted Kate Moss right off the runway, while I only had one baby seven months ago and I STILL have to tuck my spare tire into my elastic waistbanded pants. So I'm running a marathon. So far I've run 2.5 miles. Only about 24 more to go. Take that, Rebecca.

In the Beginning

And then there was type.
Okay, so I know it's 2009. And people have been blogging for, like, ever-as evidenced by the number of tries it took to get an available URL address. But I'm new here. Fashionably late (alright, so sweats aren't "fashion" per se, but I just had a baby- whaddaya want from me?) to the party. Testing the theory that I have interesting things to say, that interested people will want to read.