gazelle

so i just want to put out there, that if you so choose to go on a sunset run shortly after you have consumed large amounts of seafood...you may want to reconsider. i did this on sunday evening and the end result was not really something i ever want to happen again in my lifetime. now let me start by saying that i hardly ever run late at night, especially after a large meal. i usually go right after school two days a week and during the girl's nap time on the weekends. even though i know it's totally acceptable to do an hour of exercise for myself a couple days a week, i still work around my kid's schedules because i have that pang of guilt that comes with the territory. the pull that tells you it's not okay to do anything for yourself, because there are little people that need you at all hours of the day. (the motherhood curse.) however, i don't only run because i like to consume cheeseburgers and beer without growing another set of ass cheeks...i also run because it makes me feel good. (endorphins are no joke.) the hour to myself in the sunshine is sometimes all i need to restore the sanity that motherhood has mangled...and i believe i am a better mom because of it. so anyway, i didn't have a chance to go during nap time yesterday, so after i put both kids down to bed and butch was settled in with an episode of bait car...i decided to lace up my shoes and set out.

normally i wouldn't embark on an adventure such as this so late on a sunday night, but i had wine and coors lites out the wazoo this past weekend. not to mention the oreo cream pie that fen's sister made for the girls' birthday's on saturday...that of which i consumed as if it was the last food on earth. this shit was so good that i could survive solely on it for the next 32 years and be very happy doing so. moreover, it probably had enough calories in one serving for me to grow that extra set of ass cheeks (that i was talking about earlier) on the spot. so anyway, we also had a heavy dinner for father's day...snow crab legs (butter a la mode) and a creamy shrimp vodka pasta that i made. (eat your heart out, martha stewart.) we decided to feed and bathe the kids first, then set them up with a showing of snow white...so that we could eat in peace. by "in peace," i mean not having to get up 73 times from the table because someone needs something or dodging spaghetti fragments flying about. we filled both of the kid's bellies with food and then warren took them up for a bath. i finished up making our dinner and we settled down at the pub table to eat it as soon as the seven dwarfs started singing their first song. moreover, whenever i eat a meal with my husband...i feel like i am on an episode of "man vs. food." it's like there is someone behind the scenes (that i don't see, but he does), with a stop watch. i shit you not, he makes me feel like he's racing me. this time i actually said, "slow the hell down!" to which he stated, "it's just so good. i can't." (oh sweet christ.)

as we finished up our seafood feast, i couldn't help feeling like a total blob. my second set of ass cheeks were mocking me from the stool and i knew i needed to do something. so after i put the kids up to bed i thought what the hell...i have nothing to lose. little did i know this statement would haunt me at about mile 2...clear through the end of the run. things started off smoothly as i got into a rhythm during mile 1. for some reason, the first mile for me is almost always the hardest. sometimes i dry heave and have to get myself together...thinking there is no way i can go on. however, by the time mile 2 arrives...i usually feel like forrest gump on his trek across the states. alas, this time, as i jogged into into mile 2, i could tell things were different. my seafood was sloshing around in my stomach and i was very unsettled. i decided to keep going and i turned out onto a main road. suddenly (and violently), it was as if the snow crab and shrimp had come back alive in my insides. all i know is, they wanted to get the hell OUT of my system. i wasn't sure at this point whether or not i was going to vomit on myself or shit my shorts...but both seemed like highly likely possibilities. i didn't know if i should slow down to a walk or speed up to a sprint. my head was spinning and the seafood was sparring my stomach and intestines like muhammad ali in a fight against mayweather. my body went through the fight or flight reflex and i decided it was best that i just run faster instead of walking. if i was going to shit my own pants in public, i better have made some sort of effort first to get the hell home.

despite pain in my stomach and lower region that rivaled labor pains, i ran as fast as i friggen could. my short stocky legs were going crazy and i must've looked like a chubby gazelle on crack. i started puke burping and letting flatulence fly. (i couldn't help it.) luckily, i was on a main road and there were cars whizzing by, so no one could hear the ode to the seafood i was so eloquently playing with my orifices. as i turned into mile 3, i knew the end was near. i came to the conclusion that there was a very real possibility that i might not be able to make it home in time. i wrapped by brain around the fact that i have never shit myself or puked in public before and at 32 years old, i may have to add that to my list of 'firsts.' tim mcgraw was singing sweet nothings in my ear about how a lady should act...and i knew damn well there was nothing lady like about what the hell was going on in that moment. after a few more intense pangs of pain, i finally turned onto my street and was so glad i was in the homestretch. when i arrived there, i was in a full blown sweat...partly because of the intense sprint i just endured and partly because of the fear i just faced. i jogged in the door and saw my husband in the same spot as when i left..on the lazy boy. luckily, just as fast as the seafood storm hit... it went away. (what the hell!?) i got some water and stood in the kitchen as he stared at me. i was still breathing heavily and said, "i almost just puked on myself and shit my own shorts on that run. it was awful." i wanted to go into more detail, but he just stared straight ahead at the tv...i can only assume he was second guessing his choice of marrying me. (whatever.)

although i thoroughly enjoy running at this point in my life, that is about 43 minutes i would really like to get back. had i unleashed crab on the side of the road or shrimp in my shorts, i would've died a little inside. (okay, a lot inside.) the fact that i couldn't get a grip on my bodily functions was enough to make me reconsider my life goals. i mean, i want to go to graduate school and earn a masters degree soon...but maybe i should focus on other things, like not crapping my pants in my early thirties. i've made a serious mental note that maybe running after a large meal is really not for me. (or anyone for that matter.) i should probably just stick to afternoon and nap time workouts. i'm not proud of my predicament, but i know for a fact that my friend fen has also experienced this phenomenon. she shared her story with me shortly after it happened a few months ago...and i died laughing. so that is why, dear friends, i am sharing it with you. maybe you aren't laughing with me on this one...maybe you are laughing at me, but guess what? i don't give a rat's ass because as long as you were laughing at all is what really matters. the birth of my first daughter taught me many important lessons...but most of all, she taught me not to take myself too seriously. after reading this story, you can tell i whole heartedly believe this statement. happy fourth birthday to my first born...may she never have the urge to simultaneously puke on herself or shit her pants in public due to seafood warfare. if this should happen, though, i hope she has the sense and ability make it home like her mother...by running into the sunset like a chubby gazelle on crack.