Record breaker

Because I have been so inspired by a group of coworkers and their dedication to fitness, well, that and the fact that most of my pants no longer button, I decided to jump on the running bandwagon. It was my intention to jump into this with the heart of a champion, the strength of a fighter, you know the whole float like a butterfly, sting like a bee mentality. However, you know what they said about good intentions, it paved a road straight to somewhere and as hot as it has been I think I may have been running on the threshold.

I am about a month in and I haven't exactly been screaming I am the greatest, or swinging like the champ, instead I have been waddling, wheezing, and puffing out every move like an asthmatic Oompa Loompa. As delusional as I was before, I can tell you this has not been easy for a out of shape chunky runner wanna-be like me. It has been hard, hard work and there has been more than once that I have thought to myself forget this, I would rather be fat. For a while I even felt like I wasn't making any progress. Until this morning...

I realize this is extremely, extremely slow to you seasoned runners - I finally took my 16 minute, yes 16 minute mile and at 5:45 this a.m. I saw the number 12:58 mark my mile, I felt like Rocky on top of the stairs. Cue the music.

Although it has been a long process, I am glad I joined this train. It is a goal of mine to complete a 5k this fall. It might be a pipe dream, but I am going to keep wheezing my way through it and see what happens. As hard as it is, I really do feel better after my feeble attempts to run. I am thankful for my coworkers who have been so encouraging and have put up with my many questions and many complaints. I am inspired and hope I can be just like them one day and do five miles and live to tell about it.

So, here's to my quest to get skinny healthy. May I be able to keep the laces tied, the wheezing to a minimum and sweat through another mile tomorrow.

Do who??

In addition to signing your life away, and by that I really mean signing your life away, one of the many things you have to agree to before going on certain types of medication is to swear that you will not intentionally become pregnant or impregnate anyone. So after I wrote my name in blood, pinkie-sweared, spit and shook on it, I completed the necessary requirements for proving that I was aware I could not, should not, would not try to get conceive while highly medicated.

Although they want you to agree to use at least two forms of birth control I quickly explained that I have been married for a long time which really is almost the same as abstinence, and the husband had a vasectomy years ago. We came to that agreement after I agreed to grow, birth, and care for our children and in return he agreed to cut off the supply. It really was the very least he could do, but also quite possibly the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. I mean what says I love you more than I am willing to end my God-given right to create another human just on the off-chance that you might continue to have sex with me until we are dearly departed. Now that's love.

So after she went through the whole well-that-is-really-his-birth-control-method-not-yours speech, she said there was yet another form I could fill out stating this information. So instead of agreeing to a tubal or purchasing a chastity belt, I agreed to the form. It was quite simple and asked the basic questions. I quickly checked the appropriate boxes, signed my name once again, and handed the form to her.

She smiled and said I should have warned you about this one. You will have to scratch it out and initial here. I looked at the paper and saw that she was pointing to this question:

Same sex partner to which I selected - yes.

Duh, this was a form about my husband's vasectomy remember. Of course I have the same sex partner, otherwise that whole vasectomy thing wouldn't mean a hill of beans now would it.

She said don't worry people do it all the time, but this means same sex partner as in, you know, same gender. Now I am no doctor, but I had no idea that two women or two men for that matter could conceive. Plus, since this whole form was vasectomy-related, I had no idea lesbians even got vasectomies. Geez, what rock I have been living under? Obviously I should get out more.

I had to go home and break to Adam that I could not try to get pregnant anytime soon. I think he was relieved especially since he can no longer have children. I also had to tell him that I informed the doctor's office that I am sleeping with a woman. I think he was excited at first, but deeply disappointed when I told him that the girl I have been intimate with is, in fact, him.

On another say what note, the big C, who is now 13 and full of questions asked me if dogs could get STDs. I don't know who I should be more worried about - him or the dog.

Lucky number 3

You know what they say - the third time is a charm, but on the other hand, they also say three strikes and you're out, so I don't really know what end of the stick I will end up on this time! Thursday night I started my third attempt to treat the Hep C. I have been not-so-patiently waiting for the new medications to be approved by the FDA and in May the dream became a reality. So after much debate and a failed attempt to get into an even newer drug therapy that is still in clinical trial, I am using the Incivek triple therapy along with the Pegasys.

The last two times I went through treatment my side effects were very minimal and I really felt just fine the entire time. Unfortunately, the treatment did not work and I became known as a null responder. So, I know the odds are stacked against me, but I feel very hopeful. Three is a good number - I was born in March, I am the third daughter in my family, and of course there are the Three C's. I think it's a sign for sure.

What I did not expect this go-round, was the yucky weekend I just had. I woke up Friday just fine but by mid-afternoon I was starting to feel it and by the time I got home that evening, I was spent. Saturday started off ok, I had promised the kids we would go to a local children's museum and the mall. Plus, I was meeting an old friend that I haven't seen in way too long, so that was enough to get me motivated and out the door. Five hours, one movie, watching the kids zip line lots of times and three pairs of "toe-shoes" later, I again was totally spent. By Sunday I was much, much better and hopeful that the worst is behind me. I don't know if it was Thursday night's shot that got to me, or just the medicine getting into my system but let's just say whatever went down came out quickly.

The only other part I don't really like about this new medication is that I have to take it every 7-9 hours along with a high-fat food. I know eating ice cream in bed at 10 or 11 every night might sound not that bad to some, but believe me it has not been as fun as it sounds. Especially when the sight of food makes you gag. Not to mention the fact that I really don't want to be as big as house when this is all over. The rash that all of the other patients seem to be getting sounds lovely enough all by itself.

But hey, if I have to gain a few pounds, get a splotchy and pasty complexion, deal with a little nausea and potentially a few bald spots and end up with a virus-free, healthy liver then I'm game. Bring it on. :)

Family vacation

Recently we headed off for a little family vacation to the gulf coast. We left in good spirits, anticipating long days on the sunny shore and lots of time pool side. OK, so maybe we don't have the exact same misfortune as this family, but after six hours in the car with my bunch I did begin to think the whole family vacation thing was way overrated. Now don't get me wrong, six hours is nothing compared to the 14 hour trips I endured a child every summer during our annual trek to see the grandparents in Texas, so I really should not complain. I have told you I am the youngest of SIX, right?

While our short ride was nothing compared to all those good times, we did have several move your feet, this is my pillow, game, drink, etc., and you smell bad arguments. Not to mention the 5,000 knock-knock jokes, at least half an hour of you want to hear the most annoying sound in the world, one traffic jam, two u-turns thanks to the husband who insisted the GPS was wrong, and lots of potty breaks. My personal favorite was the gas station super gulp cup incident when the little C, who inherited his father's pea-sized bladder had to pee REALLY REALLY bad. Enter Styrofoam cup here. Yes, we did. Don't judge. We were 15 minutes away, in heavy traffic, had already made SEVERAL stops and it was raining. During the remainder of the trip the older C's kept referring to the little C as Harry from Dumb and Dumber. You remember the scene...

After all that drama we still managed to have a great time. We spent lots of time in the water:




we rode go-carts, bumper cars, kayaks, a big boat and a banana:

had a picnic bay side and got our faces painted:

saw fireworks and caught crabs (sand crabs, people, this was a family vacation not spring break):



ate lots of good food:

and just hung out: