It's good to be good at something!

I ran a 10K this weekend after a winter of lethargy... and no training... or light jogging... or even speed walking the track like my grandmas do around the local mall.

This was not my best idea.

I guess I was feeling kind of old when I turned 29 on Thursday and wanted to push myself, to prove that training was for the weak. By race day, I was completely caught up in the excitement of the clapping crowds, the extended arms offering Gatorade to hydrate me, the chants of, "You're almost there, al-most there!!" As I spotted the finish line, Dan screamed, "Yeah, Christen!!", which made me sprint the last twenty feet, probably ripping the last of my brittle leg muscles. I was strong! I was powerful! I was 29, damn it!!

Hours later, I was 89. When I went out with friends bowling, I was barely able to hobble up to sling the ball, and I squealed in pain when Dan pulled me on his lap. (Thigh muscles were shot.) Then, on Sunday, I aged another twenty years. Yep, I was the 109 woman barely able to sit in a chair, walk up a step, or stand up without cringing. The concerned owner of the Thai restaurant we went to for lunch asked, "You okay?" when I limped back from the bathroom. This was the portrait of me aging gracefully.

Lest you start to pity me, please know that I've reached self-acceptance in my wise old age. My family members and I have never been naturally athletic. It just isn't in our genes. Instead our skill resides in other areas.

Case in point: Chubby Bunny

For those amateurs who don't know, "Chubby Bunny" is a very dangerous game that Bethany and I discovered as kids at a summer camp. Basically, the player places one jumbo marshmallow in mouth and says in a clear voice, "Chubby Bunny". They follow with putting a second marshmallow in the mouth and repeat. Then they put a third in and try to say it. Now, this is where most people, their mouths bulging with marshmallow and their air supply running low, quit. The truly elite chubby bunny master keep on going. Apparently, everyone in my twisted family is one such chubby bunny master. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So after eating at the Thai restaurant, I limped back to my parents house and started to enjoy dipping strawberries and marshmallows into my mom's homemade fondue she made for a late bday celebration. The marshmallows reminded Bethany and me of camp and "chubby bunny" and before long, well... the pictures say the rest:

Don't try this at home, kids. We're professionals.