Well Hello There...I'm back

Uh, I sort of bailed on y'all for a while, sorry about that.

Nope, nothing's wrong. I'm not sick. I'm not hurt. I even called my mother the other day.

The truth is, things are moving along swimingly. We're talking to investors about our startup company, we're talking to people who want to work for us and with us, and we're baking pies. Because we like pies.

The other truth is, I was trying to write every day for NoPoBoMo or whatever that "write on your blog every single day" contest is called. It's a contest that you have with yourself and a bunch of other people try it too. You don't win anything. You just put a lot of pressure on yourself to write.

I got a little burned out on my own self.

"Blah blah blah," said @juliejulie on Twitter.

"Blah blah blah blah blah" said Julie on Chubby Mommy Running Club.

"Does anyone really need all this drivel?" I said to myself. "Probably not," I answered.

So I stopped writing.

But then, a funny thing happened this last week. I sort of missed myself. So, now I'm back.

Thanks for reading!

Trick Ride -Happy Cowgirl

My friend Patricia Freeman Martin made this monoprint. I like it. I feel like this cowgirl, flying a little, on the back of a sturdy horse.

Life is moving quickly and it is exciting. I need a red hat.

Jimmy Carter as The Burger King

This is my friend Chris Piper. He's dressed up in a costume, he usually doesn't look like this. This is his version of Jimmy Carter in a Burger King costume. Which is just creepy, no matter how your brain tries to make it work.

I respect Jimmy Carter. He is a good man. I wrote to him when I was 11 and told him he was doing a good job. He and Rosalind sent me a 5x7 glossy signed photograph of them with Amy in the Blue room. I think it was in the blue room. It may have been in black and white.

That was in 1976, and we went to visit the White House for the Bicentennial. I was hoping we could meet them, since he was my penpal and all, but we weren't able to see them. I'm sure they were busy. Amy was probably reading a book or something, and Jimmy was probably busy with some foreign policy, or at Camp David maybe.

I've never written to The Burger King, nor have I been to his house. I can't quite imagine what his house would be like. Is it a castle? I thought he was retired, but he seems to have made a comeback. Maybe he didn't invest enough in his 401K or something.

Or maybe he just can't quite retire because he's driven to do good for others, like President Carter is. I can't see The Burger King building houses for Habitat for Humanity or supervising elections in war-torn countries, though.

Could The Burger King work with The Gates Foundation to fight Aids or Malaria? Probably not. In fact, no. That'd be way too creepy. He'd scare all the children, probably.

For the record, Chris is married to my friend Marla. She is not creepy, and in fact is quite attractive. It seems to me she could have had anyone, yet she chose this Mr. Carter Burger King guy. Go figure. He is a lucky, lucky man, I tell you.

A Big 'Ole Pile of Candy and Me

I'm not sure I can pretend anymore. This picture seems to capture everything that's wrong with me, and everything that's right with my life. When your friend makes a picture of you on a toothpick, and you think it's funny to stick it into a pile of your secret mini boyfriends, Mr. Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, is it good, or is it bad?

It is what it is.

A Toast to Good Art

This is me at my friend Sissy's house. We had a sleepover last week. Our daughters were there, but they played with a big lizard upstairs while we drank martinis downstairs.

Sissy owns this wonderful orange Sandy Brooke painting. Sandy and her husband Henry live in my neighborhood. She's the head art professor up at the Oregon State campus here in Bend. She's a super good painter, I think. Super good.

Sandy and Henry have a funny little Westie Terrier that Pierre often sees in passing. As in, when they're on a walk and we're on a walk, the dogs have to pass each other. Think about two little, male dogs on leashes, passing each other in the street. You can just imagine the yipping and yapping that happens.

We try to say hello and act all conversational, but it's impossible. Like, if I could, I'd say "Hey, Sandy! I drank a martini in front of your big orange painting at Sissy's house!" Instead, we spent some time untangling the dogs and saying things like "Oh, sorry, he's usually so friendly!" and "Ouch!" and "Oops!"

I love Sandy's art. She paints big, even though she has a little dog.

Birthday Cupcakes

The best kind of cupcakes are the kind someone bakes for you. That Lori girl is amazing. Red Velvet, anyone? Nom nom nom.

Happy Birthday to me. 42 was a big, long interesting year. I'm kind of relieved it's over, actually.

If 42 is the answer to life, the universe and everything, I wonder what 43 is? Anyone?

Aikido - Rollin' with Chubby Mommy

I've taken Aikido before. I didn't last very long, but I tried, not cried.

Aikido is a Japanese self-defense and spiritual enlightening form of martial arts. My kids are interested, so they took an intro class tonight. They liked it. Seems like we'll be an Aikido family for a while.

Here are some fun things about Aikido: the place where they have the classes is called the dojo.

That's funny. I'm not sure why. It's just fun to say, I guess.

Here's another thing: they have ROLL-A-THONS to raise money for the dojo. Here's more about the last ROLL-A-THON they had in September:

The Aiki Martial Arts Kids Class will be holding it's 1st Annual ROLL-A-THON. The dojo will be open at 4pm and we will start at 4:30pm and go until around 6:30pm. The parents are encouraged to participate by helping count rolls, cheering on the kids and by helping to make it a fun time for everyone. The kids will be rolling for about 50 minutes in 10 minute intervals and we will be playing games in between. They will be looking to get sponsors by either pledges per roll or flat donations. The ROLL-A-THON will commence with prizes for: Most rolls; Most improved; Best form; Best attitude; etc.... and everyone will get a prize for not hurling. All of this will be followed by a pizza party !

For heaven's sakes. Who knew Aikido would be so much fun?

Looking forward to hanging out at the dojo.

Chewed Up Knees

Pierre chewed up my daughter's old Sailor Moon doll. I put all the pieces in a bowl. She looks like a horrid toy version of Boxing Helena.

I don't think I can glue her chewed up knees back to their original state, no matter how hard I try. She will require complete reconstructive surgery. Maybe I can ship her back to her original factory in China?

Poor, sweet Sailor.

We were big Sailor Moon fans for many years. She kind of grows on you. Here are the words to her theme song:

Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight,
Never running from a real fight, she is the one named Sailor Moon.

She will never turn her back on a friend. She is always there to defend.
She is the one on whom we can depend. She is the one named Sailor . . .

Sailor Venus! Sailor Mercury! Sailor Mars! Sailor Jupiter!

With secret powers all so new to her, she is the one named Sailor Moon.

Fighting evil by moonlight, winning love by daylight,
With her Sailor Scouts to help fight, she is the one named Sailor Moon,
She is the one named Sailor Moon, she is the one, Sailor Moon!

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Rest in Peace, Dear Sailor Moon. You are the One! The one named Sailor Moon!

Victoria Stilwell? Meet Pierre.

We watched Animal Planet's "It's Me or the Dog!" show tonight. Victoria Stilwell, that British vixen with bangs, trained a wild Boxer to be calm and quiet in his bed when people come to the door.

A Boxer DOG, that is. I'm not sure how she'd do with one of those people who put on boxing gloves and hit other people with boxing gloves. She looks tough, maybe she can hold her own.

I wonder what she'd think of Pierre the Puppy's greeting at the door. He stands on the top of the couch and wiggles and barks his annoying small dog yap until the person fends off Sadie, the Weimaranar, and then he jumps down and hops around on his two back legs until someone pets him.

Thank goodness he only weighs 8 lbs.

But I'm sure Victoria would scold us, in her strict, British way, and tell us we need to teach our dogs manners.

As if we didn't know that.

Oh, and by the way, I'm thinking of getting my bangs cut and wearing tight pants and a big wide belt. And kitten heels. Why would a dog trainner wear kitten heels?

I bet my dogs would mind me if I looked like Victoria Stilwell.

Hiking Half Dome, Startup Companies, and Anxiety Attacks

Sometimes I have anxiety attacks. They come from excessive worrying about things I can't control, I'm told.

My friend Lisa taught me a nice little Zen breathing thing to help me stay in the "now." It's about breathing in and breathing out and smiling. When you smile with your eyes closed, you actually relax. It's like magic.

I don't think anxiety is all bad. Sometimes it warns you about dangerous things. Experiencing a little anxiety about walking down a dark alley alone, or while you're standing at the top of the Grand Canyon looking down at the Snake River and wondering what happens if you trip, or grabbing a sword to defend yourself from a snake, as The Bloggess had to do, is good, not bad. It's natural. It's important.

This week, I feel like I'm on the edge of a huge cliff with our start up company. It's a good cliff. It's a cliff I've been thinking about, and hoping for and working hard to get to. It's a cliff that begs to be jumped from. It's a cliff I need to jump from, but it comes with a built-in parachute, which is the best kind of cliff to stand on, since I won't actually die if the wind blows the wrong way and things don't work out.

But it's a cliff and it's time to jump. This cliff just looks bigger than I thought it would look, now that I'm standing on the edge. The view is nice, though. Very nice.

I know cliffs. I hiked up Half Dome in Yosemite when I was 23. I hung out with a group of smart adventure types when I lived down in Palo Alto. These are the kind of people who get themselves Masters degrees in Materials Science and Electrical Engineering and PhD's in Psychoacoustics from Standford. What is Psychoacoustics, you ask? I did too.

So whenever these smart people said "Hey! Let's hike up Half Dome!" I did. I guess I just trusted their intelligence about these things.

So off we went. And after about 8 hours, we were at the top of this amazing natural wonder, looking at the view, and then looking down. One.mile.straight.down.

And I stood on the ledge, just like this guy Dave, who's picture I found in Google Images (since who the heck knows what box my old-school prints from 20 years ago are in these days?) I actually stood on this little rock at the edge of a cliff and smiled for the camera.

I didn't seem too scary then. It terrifies me to look at it now, even though I'm just looking at Dave, some guy I don't actually know. What if a big wind had come up at the wrong time? What if someone came up behind me and yelled boo? I'm sort of worried about Dave, now. I hope everything turned out okay for him.

Of course I didn't think of that scary stuff then. I just handed my camera to one of those smart people, walked out to the edge and smiled for the picture.

But here's the thing: I was brave, and I have the picture (in a box) to prove it.

I once heard that true bravery is doing something you're scared to do. It doesn't mean you do it perfectly, or that your fear disappears. It just means you put aside your fear, and you do it.

Try not cry.

That's what I'm gonna do for our business for the next six months. I'm just going to go for it, and hand the camera to the smart guys I'm working with, and we'll see what happens.

p.s.: Rock-on Stranger Dave, Mr. Half Dome guy. Way to be brave, and thanks for letting me use your picture without prior permission!

New Shoes and Little Old Ladies

I think it's time for new running shoes again. When I run more often, my shoes wear out. Pavement pounding will do that, eh?

I always want to get some nifty, wacky, stylish shoes that make a fashion statement, but my Chubby Mommy Feet end up needing the same thing over and over: a wide base and good support.

Maybe I really just need an old-lady walker to use for support. I could run with a walker.

My grandma had this very nifty metal cart on wheels that she pushed 3 blocks to the grocery store once or twice a week. It wasn't a walker, she insisted, but it did help with her balance, especially when it was full of oatmeal containers and hot chocolate mix, two of her usual purchases. And cauliflower and Brussels sprouts.

I always wondered why anyone would eat Brussels sprouts voluntarily. She said she needed her roughage, you know, it just kept everything working better. I choose apples and salad, personally.

But anyway, I'll be cruising through a few of my favorite sporting store haunts, including FootZone in downtown Bend, since they also have a lovely selection of Dansko clogs, which I do.not.need.but.always.want. to see which cool running shoes (with wide bases and good support) they have on sale this time.

What are you favorite running (or walking) shoes, dear readers?

Oops, I Did It Again: Sugar On My Lips

Uh, I have to fess up. I ate some sugar. I'm on day 5 of my 7 day no-sugar-week. At least I made it from Monday through Friday, which is a work week, after all, even though I told Lori that I intended to make it for a FULL week, as in 7 days. As in Sunday to Sunday. Or at least Saturday night 'til 11:59 p.m.

Fail.

Here's what happened: my daughter picked out some of those dark chocolate JoJo cookies at Trader Joe's, and after we got home and I unpacked all the groceries and fed the kids and the man, I ate one.

I knew I should have said no to buying them in the first place, but at the store, they were all packaged up in secure plastic. The kind of plastic that you can't rip apart with your teeth. The kind of plastic that you have to cut open with scissors. I didn't have scissor in my purse, so they weren't so tempting at the store.

I briefly thought about pretending they have cane sugar only or something so it didn't count, but the minute I start lying to my loyal readers is a bad minute that will make me feel worse in the long run.

And, for the record? Yum. That cookie was good.

Happy Friday!

My Laundry, My Life

The laundry's getting out of hand around here.

I've been busy working on our start-up company, 401K Buddy. We found a guy who's quite excited about it, and who's in a position to help us get it up and running, and out to the world. Of course, we're excitd too, and want to move forward quickly, quickly, let's do this thing!

But 401K Buddy has taken over my laundry time. To be fair, I tend to let all kinds of things take over my laundry time. I need a Laundress (that's another word I picked up from Martha Stewart.)

I've got some big piles of clean laundry, and big piles of dirty laundry. Lately, my goal is to make sure the piles don't mix. The bigger goal, of course, is to have no piles, but to have all the laundry clean, folded and put away properly.

Laundry nirvana? Maybe.

Do you think the dirty clothes care that they're crumpled, smelly and stranded in a heap they can't possible get themselves out of? Does the clean laundry feel equally frustrated that it spends a good deal of its clean time in a heap on a table, waiting to get smoothed out and tucked in to a dark, quiet drawer?

If I were a piece of clothing, I'd want to be worn. I'd want the world to see me on an attractive person or a beautiful child. I'd want to be the favorite thing that my people reached for over and over. I'd want to be the Velevteen Rabbit of shirts.

I should help these poor clothes. It's sort of mean to just leave them lying around in heaps.

I need some good laundry karma.

Sugar Sugar on the Wall, Who's the Sweetest of Them All?

Day #4 of no sugar = not so bad, actually. I'm not automatically reaching for it and then remembering I'm not eating it.

Like yesterday, for instance, I saw a Mr. RPBC sticking out of the top of my daughter's Halloween candy bucket and I swear my mouth watered a bit and my hand twitched.

But I did NOT grab that tempting orange wrapper and rip it open to get at the sweet insides, and I did NOT plan how and where to hide the wrapper (under old chicken in the kitchen garbage can, she'll never look there!)

Instead, a little light blinked on in my brain, and my inside voice said "Oh. Dang. We're not eating sugar this week, are we?"

So, that's a good sign, right?

I did want chocolate today so I made something that tastes pretty good after 4 days of no sugar and I pretend it's pudding. Plain Greek yogurt (super thick!) coco powder, vanilla, and half a packet of Stevia powder (all natural sweetener, honey's okay too)all mixed together. Not bad.

Anyone else out there still working through No Sugar Week? Hang in there!

p.s To all the ladies who went to Footzone tonight: sorry I didn't make it. Kid stuff came up, and we just finished dinner at 7:05. Next time for sure, hope you had fun!

p.p.s. No, this isn't me, are you kidding? I was never that hot, or that young.

Election Night - A Lucky Dog's Life

It's a big day. It's a big night. No matter who wins the presidential election tonight, the world changes.

And I saw a bunch of green arrows on the stock tickers over at CNBC today, which always makes me happy. I'm feeling positive today.

But how much will the world change for Pierre, my puppy? He'll be around for another 16 years, if he's lucky. What does this historic election mean for him? And what about Sadie, our big, old dog? She's nearly done with her charmed life here in America. How will she remember her happy golden years?

Here's how our historic election day went around here:

1. 3:15 a.m. got up "for good," since Pierre pooped twice in my bathroom, and didn't seem to want to go back to sleep. I took him outside. We have no yard, he has to ring the bell on the door, get his leash on, and go out in the cold, cold rain and snow. Which he hates, he just forgets. I hate it too. I don't forget. I told Sadie, the 12 year old Weimaraner, to go back to bed, it was night time. No problem, for her, she found a warm kid and snuggled in.

2. 3:30 a.m. started a bunch of work on 401K Buddy, since we're getting ready to present to some VCs soon, and I'm in research, writing and tweak the biz plan mode. I goofed off yesterday, so I'm behind.

3. 3:45 a.m. hung out with my 9 year old boy, who was up reading his book in the middle of the night. He needed a snack. Pierre was thrilled. Such a bonus! Sadie raised an eyebrow, but decided sleep was more important to her.

4. 4:45 a.m. emailed Kate and told her our 8:30 a.m. running date didn't look good, I had a feeling I'd go back to sleep eventually. I didn't. Shoulda gone running...who knew?

5. 5:30 a.m. ate a bowl of Kashi Honey Puffs. Yum.

6. 6:00 a.m. made coffee, woke up kids for school. Made eggs. Shooed most of them out the door by 7:15 to catch the bus.

7. 7:30 a.m. work, work, work.

8. 10:00 a.m. Ate spinach salad with salmon. I'm just throwing that in there, 'cause I don't usually eat fish, but I'm feeling quite proud of myself, in that "I consumed some Omega 3's!" sort of way. Started feeling excited about the election. A little bit of joy began to bubble inside me. It wasn't the fish, I swear.

9. 11:30 a.m. went to tea with my friend SISSY in her convertible, even though it was snowing. We didn't talk about the election- hardly.at.all! But we stopped by Democratic headquarters downtown and got some Obama buttons on the way home.

10. 1:30 p.m. Sissy showed me how to cut Sadie's toenails. Sadie was quite relieved. Now she can walk normally again. She loves Sissy, always has. She made Sissy pet the top of her head as long as possible, and then she took another nap.

11. Later: worked some more, then hung out with kids. Obama won the student election at High Lakes Elementary school. Smiles. I poured myself a nice glass of wine, tried to make the puppy mind me, talked about work with husband, made dinner...and then, finally, joined my kids to around the t.v. to watch election.

Pierre rang the bell 3 more times during dinner. He gets a little bored, after all. He just.needs.some.attention.people!

Wondering when I'll go to sleep.

Wondering if Pierre will go to sleep.

Wishing I could be Sadie for just one day.

The truth about dogs in America: Not much will change for them. Pierre doesn't care that it's election day, or election night. He's sleeping right now, since he's exhausted. I mean, he was up all night, stealing several pencils, dolls, and dirty laundry to get people to chase him. He ate some lovely puppy chow, drank fresh water, went for a 3 mile hike, bugged the hell out of Sadie all afternoon, then found a sun spot, finally, for a quick nap to refresh himself before dinner.

Plus, Pierre rang the bell to go outside 17 times today. That's a lot of potty for an 8 lb dog. And he barked incessantly at Sissy when she gave Sadie a manicure. And he ran like a bat out of hell around and around the house, for many minutes when the kids got home. He had an incredibly busy day.

Sadie's finally able to relax now, during the election coverage, since the irritating puppy is busy bugging the children while they watch t.v.to see who wins, and she can hide under a desk without being bothered. She's admiring her new toenails, I think.

Tomorrow will be a good day for Pierre, and for Sadie.

Tomorrow will be a good day for America, too.

In my dog's worlds, life will go on as usual in his house, in Bend, Oregon, in America, no matter who wins the Presidential election. They'll be happy to wake up, and happy to wake people up. They'll get fed, and handed a chewy to keep them busy while the kids get ready for school.

Maybe we'll all wake up tomorrow and be okay no matter what happens.

Oh crap. Pierre just threw up all over the rug. I wish I were kidding.

No Sugar Week - I Love You, I Hate You

Day 2 of my No Sugar Week has started out badly. I'm grumpy. I'm irritable. I want a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup somethin' fierce. I'm on my way.

But first, argh. I found out there is a tiny bit of sugar (but no high fructose corn syrup, which is hardest for me to kick!) in the protein bar I ate yesterday. Does this mean I have to start over on my "1 week without sugar" day counting? Let's say no. Let's say my body has already gone through the bulk of the withdrawal.

I went from eating about 11 pieces of Halloween candy and a cupcake throughout the day on Saturday to whole foods and one Premier Nutrition Protein Bar on Sunday. I say that's a drastic change, so let's call it good, shall we?

Thank goodness I get to make the rules for my own contest with my own self.

So, today, day 2 of no sugar, will be the hardest day for me, I think. I'm already "crawling out of my skin" and snapping at people and dogs with exasperation, for no real apparent reason...except that I'm not eating sugar. Which is a huge reason.

Tomorrow will be easier. I know this, because I've done this before, actually. Just like I've lost 50 pounds before. Just like I've run a 10K before. I'm a professional at this health-nut stuff.

You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I do actually know how to turn my flab into muscle, and how to stop poisoning my body with junk food. I'm sort of like Oprah that way. She's made a career out of it, although I'm sure she'd rather not be known for gaining and losing weight. She's not a yo-yo, after all, just a real person.

So now it's time for me to do get serious about my health. Again.

This is what I know for sure: losing weight, getting in shape, and maintaining weight loss is hard work. There are no shortcuts. Trust me.

Several years ago, when my youngest was in preschool, I spent 9 months eating right and exercising, a lot, and I turned myself into a healthy hottie mommy. It lasted for about 2 years, and every single day I practiced willpower and determination. Constant vigilance, I tell you.

The cravings go away, of course, just like nutritionists and diet gurus say, but the mental gymnastics, for someone like me, who has been chubby since age 3, convincing myself to eat right and exercise enough to lose weight is a daily ritual. My mental chubbiness always remains.

Maybe I should put my brain on a diet.

So I enjoyed looking fabulous and kept most of my healthy habits in place for quite a while. Then, slowly but surely, my life changed, my stress increased, I started working full time, traveling more and exercising less, insomnia started, my body turned 40, my hormones shifted, my furnace slowed down a tad, and I started drinking wine and eating junk again.

Little by little, my chub increased. 10 pounds a year adds up to 30 pounds in 3 years. It's that simple (since I'm a real math whiz!) and here I am.

And now, the time has come to start the process again. It's not rocket science. There's no hidden angst, no horrible childhood, no valid excuses that Dr. Phil or Dr. Oz or Bob Green the guru trainer can solve for me. It just is what it is, and I gotta do the work to keep my body machine in tip top shape.

I feel kind of like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, before Dick Van Dyke made her over into the magic flying car. I've got good bones, and with a little work (and maybe a spare fireplace screen)I'll be quite lovely again.

So now I'm going to eat an apple and a hard boiled egg, go for a run, and hope to make it to day 3 of No Sugar Week.

Get Thee Behind Me Cupcake Lady!

She is a temptress, this one. She probably never even eats the cupcakes she prepares for others. The cupcakes the Chubby Mommies think about. And write about. The cupcakes that we dream about.

I still say that a little cupcake, every once in a while is fine, I think, and I will have one on my birthday, for sure.

But, starting today, I'm setting up a monumental challenge for myself:

I'm giving up sugar for a week.

Anyone want to join me in the no-sugar quest? Leave a comment with your no-sugar goal, and I will give us gold stars if we succeed. And we'll feel proud, I betcha.

It's 1:04 p.m., and I haven't had any sugar yet. I'm on my way!

About Four Miles with Friends

By the way, did you see the nice little article about Bend Bloggers in the Bend Bulletin's U-Mag today? Jen and I were in there! And so were my dogs...


So, my "real runner" friends, Fawn and Kate, and Cossondra cornered me into running up at Shevlin Park this morning. At 8:30. In the morning. On Saturday. The Saturday after Halloween. The Halloween where I ate a bunch of candy and drank some wine.

But it's a good thing they did. It's a good thing to run with friends on a rainy Saturday on November 1st, because it sets the precedent for the whole month. It's time to run again, that's all there is to it. I ran three times this week, and I've noticed a huge difference in my mood. As in, my mood is better.

Here's more good news: we ran nearly 4 miles, or so! I know this because Kate had a monitor thingy and it sort of measured us. Well, it measured Kate, but we were all along for the ride. I mean, my heart rate was probably higher than Kate's, since I'm chubbier.

So, even though I had to stop after what I think was 3 miles (because my body's used to 3 miles and it figured "time's up!") and walk for a bit, I did start running again, so my heart still worked. Thank goodness.

I need to get one of those monitor thingys. Seriously.

A year ago, I said I didn't want a real club, because I didn't want to commit to something or to someone. I wanted to be lazy, and run when I wanted to run. Turns out, when I'm lazy, it doesn't really help me much after all. Duh. I think I sort of knew that, but a year of pretending kind of hit home.

If I have a date to walk or run with friends, I'll actually do it. Especially these friends, who run slowish when I'm running slowish so I don't feel bad. Even though I say "Keep going! It's OK, really!"

And if I go with friends, I'll actually run longer than I do on my own. And I'll actually have more fun. Because I have to talk (usually not an issue for me, but tricky when you can't breathe due to lack of oxygen!) and talking helps you forget that you want to quit.running.right.this.second.please! for just long enough to keep running.

I mean, look at these ladies. They're fun!

So, here's to November 1st, a new month, and to a real beginning to a real running club.

We're trying again on Tuesday morning, and again on Friday morning, all together. Let me know if you want to join!