What does PR stand for? Well, in this context, it stands for Personal Record. Maybe I should call it “PFR” so nobody gets confused by the fact that PR could also be Public Relations, which I also accomplish on a regular basis.

OK, anyway, about my P*F*R: Today I went to the track at another local college. Before I got there I was musing to myself that maybe I should try running five laps, all in a row, without stopping or walking. Prior to this, my record was four laps, aka one mile. And that was a few weeks ago, I think before my mom had her surgery.

So I got to the track, did my stretches, and started running and did not stop until a mile-and-a-quarter later.

Five laps! Let's see that in all caps: FIVE LAPS!!! That's more than one-twentysixth of a marathon, people. Another woman on the track cheered for me when I finished, and told me it was more than she could do.

(I was also inspired by Kris, who told me this morning that she's following my training log with great interest; I didn't even know that she lurks here. Thanks, Kris, for the boost. And for laughing at my proposed first line, should I ever do an open-mic stand-up comedy session. “Gleaning,” indeed.)

It was fantastic. And I didn't even feel like I was going to die at the end of it — in the middle of it, yeah, but I pushed through and kept running. Which is really what it's all about. Well, that and shin pain. I came home, chased down a couple of ibuprofen with a concoction of protein powder in milk, and took a loooong shower.

Just spent 30 minutes in my email inbox and brought it down from 1805 messages to 647. Whee!

This makes me sad.

On Sunday, Monstro and I took the boys to Hadley, to watch that town's parade commemorating its 350th birthday. I had the bright idea of parking on the other side of the river and walking over the Rail Trail to get to the parade. So we ended up walking somewhere between 2.6 and 2.9 miles that day, with the added bonus of the double stroller weighted down with 10 pounds of picnic supplies and 62 pounds of boys. Good times! And, the parade was loads of fun.

Today, I took Lex to school by way of the running track. “I want to go on that one,” he piped from the backseat. So I parked by the track, we ran 300 yards, then ran to the preschool, and then I ran back to the track and ran 800 and walked 400. Then, this afternoon, Monstro and Babykins and I walked a little over a mile before it was time to pick up Lex from preschool. Not a bad day! Oh, and Babykins now has not one but TWO teeth. Good times.

After visiting my mom at the nursing home, I decided to shuck off my shoes and run barefoot up and down the grassy hill that's part of the facility's landscaping. I figured I'd run 10 figure-eights, up and down and up and down the hill, while Theo sat in his stroller laughing at me.

Well, that figure eight might as well have been an infinity symbol. I did it twice and chucked it in. That hill kicked my butt! Though it did feel good to run barefoot — I could feel my ankles strengthening during the run.

So I re-activated my Facebook page this weekend, mostly so I could lock in the “motormouthdotcom” alias, and I agreed to “Friend” my best friend, who sent me a great message of Facebook do's-and-don'ts, and I asked two other people to be my friend and I think I'll hold steady with that. Updated my picture so it's chattering teeth, and then, right when I was getting ready to upload, you know, one or two other pics of the boys and whatnot, Facebook crashed my entire browser.

Eff you, Facebook.

Been busy and rainy so I fell off the exercise wagon, but yesterday I was back “on track,” as it were…

ran 800 (with two 100-yard walking breaks)

walked 400

ran 800 (no stopping!)

walked 400

It was rough — I've lost some of my breath the past week — but ultimately, I felt a lot better!

My knee's been hurting — possibly sympathy pains, as it's the same side as the knee my mom just had replaced — so no new entries in the training log, but I'm about to get back on that horse. Today is the farmer's market where we pick up our farmshare — can't wait to see what kinds of veggies we'll be noshing this week! Other than that, mostly work, kid-caregiving, and Mom-caregiving. Happy Tuesday!

My haircut can only be referred to as a fat-girl's style. Ugh. Time to break out the prenatal vitamins to see if I can get my hair to grow long, quick.

You may or may not know that I have quite the collection of etiquette books. Never hurts to know which fork to use, how to compose a note of condolence or regret, and the like. But here's an unfortunately NOT hypothetical situation I experienced today that had me at a complete loss: When your hairstylist is cutting your hair and, in the process, inadvertently cuts off the tip of her own finger, is it OK to walk away in the middle of the haircut? And, if you stay in the chair because she insists she's fine (even though she tells the other stylists she'll be going to the hospital shortly, and you can see the blood from underneath the three band-aids she used), and she finishes your haircut, and you don't like it, is it OK to say something? And what percentage tip should you leave to compensate for the, uh, tip *she* left?

(Yes, I stayed in the chair; no, I didn't say anything; yes, I left a $6 tip for a $14 cut. Glad I told her up-front I didn't want a blow-dry)