Speed Racer

Mayet has been running very consistently for the last nine months now, logging about twenty miles a week. That is twenty miles pushing a stroller with two children with a combined weight of about fifty pounds. When she came to visit us she kept up her running routine despite the pouring rain and cold. Well, cold for her anyway, since she is now a Southern Californian.

For her birthday, she got a new pair of shoes specifically selected for her feet's running dynamics, expensive technical socks that promise eradication of blisters, and a pair of custom fit in-soles for good measure. As this was the first time she'd ever worn a pair of "custom fit" athletic shoes with top-of-the-line moisture wicking socks, she thought she could now conquer the pavement with absolute ease. So that very evening, she took to her running route determined to pound out an easy, breezy, nine miles.

 

She didn't accomplish her intended nine miles. She stopped at seven only because her feet and calves were aching very badly! She was so embarrassed to tell me that she might have to return the shoes because they were horrible!

Well, I take the blame for not warning her about custom foot orthodics and motion control shoes. It is always advised, and I practice this advice myself, to break in the new shoes or orthodics gradually. As in, wearing the combo for thirty minutes at a time, walking or lightly jogging, gradually increasing the minutes to to hours, before finally wearing them on a hard run. So I told her to give her new shoes a running chance  -  no pun intended.

A few days later, we went hiking. She wore her new shoes, but also brought her old shoes just in case...

Mayet normally wears clothes that make passers-by take a second look at her. In a good way, of course. This photo may look like it's me, but it's not. That's Mayet wearing my hat and her future mother's-in-law jacket, with Jaida's water bottle poking out of her pocket. (I had Shea's ®Cars water bottle.) I dressed very similarly, only with a properly fitted waterproof jacket. Still, this made me realize how blah I look. No wonder nobody looks at me! If they do, they're probably thinking "poor girl, why is she trying to hide from the world?"

And when those sympathizers see what I had to do for a parking pass, they'd say "Oh so sad! She's also an air head..."

See, most trails in our neck of the woods  - again, no pun intended -  require a parking pass for your vehicle. In my excitement to go hiking for the first time this year, I completely forgot to grab my pass out of my purse before I left the house.

I am a veteran parking offender. In my desperation to curb my track record of parking tickets, I left this note on the dashboard.

"Mm-hm," I can just imagine the park ranger thinking. "Whatever, Air Head. I'm giving you a ticket for sure!" (But no, I didn't get one, gracias ginoo!)

Had I gotten a parking ticket, I would have been too depressed to gorge on burgers and onion rings. And since I didn't, and because I forgot to bring my purse, Mayet sprung for me.

A few days later, I went jogging with Mayet. As we started off, I thought to myself I'm a stronger runner than Mayet, this is going to be an easy jog, especially if Mayet pushes the stroller the whole way. Boy, was I wrong!

She took off almost immediately. She didn't even wait for me! But, I thought, half the route was uphill, and I will catch up to her eventually.

Indeed, I caught up to her on Cherry Street, a very steep incline for about 200 yards. "I'm dying!" she huffed, taking short breaths that sounded like wheezing. "[Bleep!], Shea is so heavy!"

Huff-wheeze-huff-wheeze.

"My double stroller is lighter than this dinosaur of a Bob!"

Wheeze-huff-wheeze-huff.

Now I felt guilty. I offered to push the stroller. But she only let me push it for about a minute. "I'll..."

Huff-wheeze.

"Take..."

Wheeze-huff.

"It...

Huff-wheeze.

®Bob makes a wonderful stroller for athletic parents. They're stable, shock absorbent, equipped with five-point harness system for each passenger (Mayet's Bob is a double, of course), and designed specifically for athletic activities on or off road. And of course, the latest models are more superior than their predecessors. I have the ®Bob Sport Utility from 2008, and although it coasts like a dream, it's not as aerodynamic and ergonomic and whatever-other-nomic as the latest Bobs.

"Yeah," I said for moral support, "this Bob is about as heavy as yours, even though it's a single." But I wasn't going to offer to take it again because it was, indeed, quite heavy!

Remembering a Running tip I read a few weeks ago, I encouraged her accordingly.

Still feeling the guilt of owning this outdated stroller which Mayet was pushing with agony, I suggested to take a quick breather at the crest of the hill, and enjoy the view while we were there.

The Sport Utility is the only model that has a hand-brake, quite practical when going downhill on a dirt trail. While taking our breather, Mayet remembered this. "I wonder if the brake is on?" she murmured. And a second later, "DAMN!

THE FRIGGIN' BRAKE HAS BEEN LOCKED THE WHOLE TIME!

NO WONDER I'M DYING HERE!

AAAAAAARG!"

At that, she unlocked the brake, and took off.

This time, she took off even faster than before. So fast that traffic had to be stopped to let her pass!

Well, not really. Traffic had to be stopped because of some road construction that we had to run by. But, seriously, she did take off like a sprinter in contention for the Olympic Gold Medal.

The distance between us grew exponentially as we continued on with our jog. Eventually I completely lost sight of her.

When I finally pulled into my driveway, Mayet was relaxed and calm, as if she hadn't even exerted an ounce of sweat. She must have completed her stretches long before I got there.

Enough said. I see my warrior days coming to a close.


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Jaida Talk

Jaida is practically two years old already!

When asked, she'll point at her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her head. Which helps when one can't quite decipher her baby talk.

She imitates what she hears. So when I told Sonya to down,  Jaida repeated "So-yah dun!"

"So-yah het" meant I want to touch Sonya's head.

"Sah-yeeh cheh" meant I want to sit in Uncle Scotty's chair.

"Watts pooteh" meant I want to watch the computer.

"Peecheh so-ya seep! Kooh nigh!" meant Preacher, Sonya, go to sleep! Good night!

But this smile doesn't need words to convey what a good morning it was!

A Child's First Birthday. Party.

I went to a 1st birthday party last weekend. This is Noah. He is Little Brother to a four year-old, son to a young man whom I first met when he was maybe seven years old?, grandson to very close friends of my family whom I took up to call Tito and Tita, and great grandson to my father's childhood friend.

It was very nice to catch up with familiar relatives, and it was entertaining to get familiarized with new characters. A particular conversation that caught my attention was one with a soon-to-be bride and her uncle and aunt. The uncle, whom I've met a handful of times now, is the type with a youthful and playful heart who keeps up with all things macho including guns, cars, and once, even wore what looked like a fighter pilot's jump suit with badges to boot. I don't know what he does, but I know for sure he is not in the military, much less a pilot of any branch of any organization. Just a father and uncle who enjoys a loving banter with his daughters and niece, the bride-to-be.

The aunt, the uncle's sister, shared his playfulness and his sense of fashion, for, just short a beret, she looked the part of an Army drill sergeant, albeit one with a friendly smile and matronly demeanor.

Bride-to-Be: We have a DJ, not a band. 

Uncle: Can I make song requests?

Bride-to-Be: [with a hint of trepidation, holding up a finger for emphasis] Only ONE song!

Uncle: [paused, pondered his request, as if to make sure he chooses THE ONE best song in his arsenal of wedding party songs.]

Aunt: [interjecting with a bright idea] Me, I have only one request... [pause for dramatic effect, and then holding up both hands, palms facing out in exclamation] Endless Love! [beaming with resolution]

Bride-to-Be: Aw, was that your wedding song?

Aunt: M-hm! [nodding with fond recollection]

Uncle: I would like to hear... [poising to deliver a declaration] LOVE HURTS!

The bride-to-be, having known her uncle perhaps her whole life, shook her head admonishingly and changed the subject before her uncle garnered any leeway into his banter.

Now looking to redirect his humor elsewhere, the uncle turned to his own daughter... I like your hair! It's short on one side, and long on the other! To which the daughter responded with disdain, "um, I've only had this haircut for two weeks now!"

At any rate, this was Noah's first birthday party. But I don't think he cared at all that it was in his honor. He didn't like the loud crowd and unfamiliar faces. He clung to his mommy, his grandpa, or Uncle Daniel, and no one else. 

Frankly, I think this celebration was held for the adults. To celebrate the milestone of life's first year. To indulge in the cutest outfits and most colorful interactive toys, to ooh and aah at the very things they cannot use for themselves anymore. To regress into childhood's blissful, inconsequential recklessness! Case in point...

Most importantly, for any islander, whether Micronesian or Filipino, we gather for the food! And with mouths full, sing Happy Birthday, all the while chewing between the lines of the song. (The food tastes better when you talk - or sing - with your mouth full, I swear!)

I look forward to next year's birthday party!

And many mooooooore!


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