Marathon Training Week "Does It Really Even Matter Anymore?"

In case you were wondering,

I.Am.Alive.

I realize my lack of blogging has had people questioning the state of my being, but I am happy-ish to report that I am alive and kinda sorta well.

In 5 1/2 weeks, I will be standing at the starting line of a 26.2 mile road to you know where. The training has been kicked up a notch lately, and I will tell you that my knees and back are cussing at me every step of the way. If my right knee could talk, I'm pretty sure words that start with f and b would frequently be shouted as I take step after step in an effort to be somewhat, kinda-sorta, not really prepared for this thing they call a race.

Here's my question.......is it still considered jogging if my speed walking pace is faster than my jogging pace? My vote - yes. Because I damn well say so and I'm gonna damn well step across that finish line no matter what it takes.

I've been researching effective training methods and techniques for preparation, and I just keep thinking to myself - Is your body REALLY ever prepared for 5 to 6 hours of torture? Doubtful. Especially since my body can't seem to make it past mile 12 without having to take a 20 minute potty break. Luckily my training runs take place on deserted country roads, and I'm able to somewhat tuck myself between a few stalks when nature calls. However, I highly doubt the city streets of Chicago will have such a fortunate hiding place. I just pray there are multiple gas stations along the route for such times. Many reports state that racers have no problem relieving themselves while in motion in an effort to meet record breaking times. I, however, have no problem running 3-5 miles COMPLETELY OUT OF MY WAY to make sure my bladder is comfortable. I may not be the classiest of individuals, but I would like to protect the small glimpse of reputation that falls under the somewhat respectable category.

All in all......I may not be exactly where I would like to be in my training, but I can assure you that this bucket list item WILL be checked off on October 9th, 2011. Simply because there is absolutely no way I am putting myself through such torture EVER AGAIN! Please keep saying prayers for me as motivation is starting to dwindle.....what gives me hope? The AMAZING charity that I am running for and knowing that I run so that someone else may live. Don't forget to stop by my website and make a donation for such an awesome organization. (http://afsp.donordrive.com/participant/bigbocabob)

With peace, love, blistered feet, and sweat-stained sports bras,

Big Boca Bob

P.S. Any suggestions of songs to add to the playlist to get me through my 19 mile training run this Saturday would be GREATLY appreciated. After three hours of extremely slow jogging, an upbeat, motivational song is pretty much the only thing I have. HELP!

Beans Blab: Week 25 Update

In less than four months,

This Oh-So-Adorable Little Boy.......

Is going to be a dad.

A father.

Un papa.

It's doesn't look any more natural no matter what language you write it in.

Watch out world.

Baby Beans is still in the womb and already showcasing that he is going to be his father's child.

Exhibit A:  Baby Beans has already made his mother's life HELL. A trait that Huracan has mastered tremendously well.  Baby Beans has induced enough vomiting to fill the Grand Canyon (sorry for the disturbing picture) in the first few months of his womb life, and Mama B continues to take each day in stride. Doctor's visits, ridiculous diagnoses, and constant flushing have not held this Mama back, and I commend her on the sacrifices she has already made for the little diablo. Trust me, Mama B, one conversation with Mama Dirt will make you understand that if this child is anything like his/her father, this torture will never end. Huracan is climbing toward his 29th birthday and still haunts Mama Dirt's dreams. Good luck, Girl!

Exhibit B: I give you the ultrasound picture.

In which little innocent Baby Beans is very obviously flippin' his parents one giant bird. Nothing says love like a fetus tellin his papa to stick it where the sun don't shine. This baby is already makin' his Aunt super proud! Hopefully, one day in the next couple years, when all the other aunts at work are showing off videos of their cute nieces and nephews crawling and walking for the first time, I can show a video of my little Baby Beans smokin' a skogie and shoutin' at his Mama to fix him some f'in meatloaf!

This past weekend Huracan and Mama B welcomed Officer Bob and I into their home for a nice relaxing getaway. Well......road tripping with Officer Bob isn't quite relaxing so I correct my previous statement by saying MOSTLY relaxing getaway.  This would be the face I saw 7 hours and 45 minutes out of the total 8 hours spent in the car..........

It is TOTALLY not my fault that long car rides pretty much drive me insane causing minor confusion in the location of the Berlin Wall. Apparently, it is not in China. That tiny misunderstanding, my friends, will cause the face you see above. (A face I get to see quite often!)



I was more than ready to arrive at our final destination, the humble abode of the Huracan and Mama B soon-to-be family of three. And I will tell you that I was NOT surprised to find that Mama B has got to be one of the most adorable little preggos that I have ever seen. Why do the mothers of both of my future little relatives have to be so freakin' tiny?! I'm pretty sure if you totaled their weight, I would still have a few pounds advantage on them. Thanks, Mama B, for the self-esteem boost! Looks like its doughnuts and ice cream for dinner again tonight! (I tend to hide my feelings with food)

And the day would not be complete without the token maturity of the Proud Father!



I must say, however, that the highlight of the trip may have been meeting one of Big Boca Bob blog's biggest fans! Baby Beans's Grandma B was reportedly anxiously awaiting the arrival of Big Boca Bob and Officer Bob, and I sure hope we did not disappoint! Officer Bob was only referred to using his blog moniker as the Nudist Nana and I quickly became BFFs. It is no lie that The Nudist Nana is quite the entertaining conversationalist and may make some blog cameo appearances in the future! The Nudist Nana predicts the birth of a larger than normal red-headed Mexican baby, and if this prediction holds true, I vow to love that ginger beaner to the core.

Thanks to our hosts for the fabulous tour of the town, the relaxing movie watching, and the great weekend getaway. Miss you already!

Gunther Gab: Showered With Love

After this past weekend, I think it is safe to say that Baby Pebbles is TRULY loved.

Mama-To-Be CareBear and Baby Pebbles had quite the partay on Sunday, and the amount of love for this child consumed the room. Approximately 50 friends and family brought smiles, laughter, love, and loads of gifts for the precious baby-to-be. AND I even wore a dress with heels for an entire 5 hours with minimal complaints! Talk about a good day!

I apologize in advance for the lack of photography. I was WAY too busy socializing, scooping ice cream, and watching gift-opening to worry about a camera!

A BIG thanks to Mama Dirt, Daisy Duke, The Llama, and Dancing Queen for their decorating skillz. Who knew a Masonic Lodge could be glittered with sugar and spice and everything nice. I think the amount of pink in this room would have made Barbie's Dream House look like the rut hut.

The day started out with introductions from a room full of chatty women. It was impressive to see the number of people that will be welcoming this baby into the world. I just hope Baby Pebbles will someday understand how many friends and family have been anxiously awaiting her arrival.

During introductions, the sound of ice cubes could be heard rattling in the kitchen, as the Mrs. was preparing for her first game.  And this is where I insert a plug for the creativity of the Mrs. If you or anyone you know is getting married, having a baby, or having a fiesta for any other milestone in life for which party games are needed, this is your go-to-gal!!

Game #1: My Water Broke! - Each participant received an ice cube with a tiny baby inside. The first person to free their baby from the frozen capsule, and shout "My Water Broke!" would be the winner. Prior to the game starting, as the Mrs. and I were frantically tossing glaciated babies into plastic cups laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario, we were discussing methods participants might use and the potential length of time this task might take. I confidently stated that Mama Dirt can be quite the competitive player. Not 2 minutes later, I witness Mama Dirt gnawing on a plastic baby while simultaneously shouting the catchphrase. At the same time, one of the younger guests was smashing her baby with a chair leg. What are we trying to teach here, Mrs?! Nothing better than corrupting the future motherhood of such a young lass.

Game #2: Each gift seen below had a baby-related item that started with the specific letter located inside. Guests could feel each bag to guess the item. (PS - This poor child will never actually be called her given name as her in-utero name of Pebbles seems to have already stuck. This can be blamed on your parents, Baby Pebbles, for they are the ones holding your birth name hostage until your arrival.)

Game #3: Prior to the fiesta, the Mrs. made a phone call to her younger and oh-so-naive brother to ask him for responses to baby-related trivia questions. Poor Titty Baby did not know what he was getting himself into as his responses would then be told to a room full of the smarter gender.  The goal of the game was for CareBear to match Titty Baby's answers to 20 questions. Poor CareBear was asked to actually think like Titty Baby. I fear anything and everything that goes on in that man's mind and would deny the request to enter such a dangerous world. However, CareBear rose to the challenge, but struggled along the way. Many answers weren't too far off, but it was the occasional offbeat answer that threw the room full of women into a whirlwind of laughter. A few homework assignments for the Dad-To-Be: #1 - google definition of swaddle, #2 - poll friends of mothers to embrace realization that a child will go through MORE than 6 diapers a day, #3 - visit a local hospital to witness a newborn child with the umbilical cord still attached and observe for more than three hours without gagging.

AFTER the games, came the food! And thanks to Daisy Duke and CareBear's best friend, Erin, what a fabulous spread it was! You would not believe the number of toppings for ice cream sundaes that could be displayed to satisfy the hunger of 50+ women. Nuts, candies, sauces, etc. filled each guest's bowl and they were topped off with what else but whipped cream and a cherry. The sundae bar was a great hit! Erin was responsible for the punch and water for rehydration following such taxing games. I am 100% positive that all guests left the fiesta with bellies and hearts full!

AND THEN........PRESENT TIME! I have honestly never seen so many pink-wrapped, pink-bowed, pink-glittered gifts in my life. Now I am only 25 years old so it's not exactly the longest life to speak of, BUT I'm not so sure I will even witness such a sight in my next 25 years of life. After an hour of unwrapping, I could see the fatigue start to settle in CareBear's eyes. I'm not so sure who was more emotional, CareBear or the Mrs. The eyes were swelling and tears were about to flow on a couple different occasions as presents were unwrapped. Now I understand that CareBear was more than happy to see all the women closest to her share in her excitement for her and her future motherhood, but I'm not so sure she would have been able to untie even one more bow. There is absolutely no fear that Baby Pebbles will ever have to go without incredibly adorable clothing.

Thanks to ALL that attended, and to ALL that made the shower a success. CareBear is READY TO POP and we are all anxiously awaiting the arrival of a precious, not-so-little, big-footed princess.

Halfway to 42

21 years ago,

On July 27, 1990

A little brown boy entered our family.

It was a good thing Mama Dirt was strolling next to the dumpster that day

and saw his little brown eyes looking longingly for someone to take him home. 

Turns out the stork saw him,

said "screw this!"

and dumped him at the most appropriate place at the time.

Another man's trash became our little family's......trash.

But he was treasured trash, nonetheless.

I, for one, was more than happy to bring a younger sibling into the family.

An hermano that I could tease daily, push down the stairs,

and dress up in my old dance recital outfits.

And now........

That little brown boy.

Has matured into...........

An older little brown boy.

I honestly, truly, am having a difficult time coming to the realization

that my little tiny baby brother is a legal alcohol-consuming,

slot-machine playing, full blown adult!

Talk. About. Scary.

So far in his 21st year of life, El Aguila has purchased his first 6 pack (of Mike's Hard....really, El Aguila?! What a pansy!), lost slightly more that $20 at the casino, and received a long lecture from his older, wiser, and more beautiful sister about bar selection in a college town on a Saturday night.

Sounds to me like he is kick starting his adult life in just the right way!

FELIZ CUMPLEANOS, EL AGUILA!

I love ya little brown dumpster boy.

We've always been Mama's favorites. PLEASE don't screw it up!