Archive | February 2012

Janie’s Got a Gun

I live about 40 miles from Chardon, Ohio.  I am so sad about what happened this past Monday morning.  I have school age children.  I do not want to imagine what this has done to those parents.

I cannot imagine being so angry, so hateful, so fucked up in the head that I would physically hurt someone else. I liked it better when kids just went off somewhere quiet and killed themselves.  Suicide is a really shitty choice, but at least the only one dying had a choice.

I talked to my kids about it.  My oldest was comforted by knowing details.  My middle child didn’t want to talk about it.  She acted like it anyway.  She listened closely though. My youngest didn’t understand it.  I’m glad.

I am sad and glad that I saw coverage of this deplorable event on foreign new sites (Corriere della Sera, Le Monde, Spiegel, etc.).  I am glad that an event like this is still shocking.  That this is still abnormal enough that it is reported.  And yet, the coverage removes the emotional part of the story, makes is less real, desensitizes us.

I was actually at an activity for one of my children Monday night (the day of the shootings).  Another parent came up to me and told me how the first child that died was related to someone he knew.  He was smiling.  I was totally disgusted.  This guy was explaining that he was somehow connected to this poor kid as though he was telling me how he once meet the president or something. Ugh. Deplorable.  Maybe someone should keep an eye on him.  He clearly lacks basic human compassion.

I think I want to keep my kids inside for a while.  Just to make me feel better.

Look at that Body, I Work Out

A year and a half ago, a friend and I walked a 5k.

I will never be a great runner.  I’m happy to get my slow jog on.  Well, maybe not always happy.  I keep hoping that one day something will click in my head and I’ll love to run.  It hasn’t happened yet.  I hate running (jogging).  But I keep doing it.  And I love the way I feel when I’m done.  Well, maybe not immediately after I’m done.  Perhaps after I’ve recovered a bit.

Anyway, since that first 5k, I’ve done 2 fun one mile walks with the family, a 1 mile run, 7 more 5Ks, a half marathon, and a full marathon.  I don’t run the whole way.  I’m not fast.  But I finish and I’m not last.

I’m also signed up for 2 half marathons and a quarter marathon.  I am looking forward to adding at least 6 or 7 – 5ks to that and hopefully a 50 mile bike ride or two.

Somehow, even though the races are challenging enough, I have decided I want to challenge myself more. Today, I signed up for a Warrior Dash.  3.5 miles with obstacles like climbing up a waterfall and jumping over fire.  Two of my coworkers swear they’re signing up too.  I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse.

But today, while talking to one of my coworkers, one who will not even pretend she’d do something like a Warrior Dash, a funny thing happened.  She called me athletic.  I’ve been called a lot of things: fat, chubby, clumsy, klutz, flounder, but never anything like that.

The little fat girl inside me protests, but is secretly thrilled.  What my coworker doesn’t know is that even though I occasionally will stay on my treadmill for 99 minutes (because that’s the maximum time for any program on it) or take a 40 mile bike ride, I’m not athletic.  I’m just flipping stubborn.  Athletic just sounds so much better.