Tonight's Blog Brought To You By the Number 5

Five.

The number of uber-hip members in the greatest girls group of all time. "I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want!" Baby, Ginger, Scary, Sporty and Posh will forever be my music idols. Holla back, Spice Girls!

Five.

The number of times Officer Bob has scolded me for recently removing the manhood from his youngest child, Reggie. Apparently messing with a male's precious little baby-making jewels is comparable to murder in the eyes of a father. Sorry, boys, but I ain't housin' any more mutts!

Five.

The number of days in a work week. The number of days in a long, boring, dreadful work week. Can you tell I'm getting a minor case of "burnout" at the job?!

Five.

The number of fantasy football teams Officer Bob is currently managing from his bedroom office. AND the number of times he has regretted picking up Peyton Manning in the first round. P.S. Go pack!

Five.

The number of platonic solids. Whatever that means. Thank you, Wikipedia.

Five.

Offered "up high" or "down low" (as long as you're not too slow) in recognition of a person or act that is groovy or awesome. For example: El Aguila states: "I learned to play the banjo in an hour!" I acknowledge such feat with a HIGH FIVE!

Five.

The number of days until I participate in the 2011 Bank of America Chicago Marathon.

Five.

The fourth digit of my assigned bib number for said event.

(Do you think they assign bib numbers by the approximate minutes predicted to finish?)

Five.

The number of times I have cried myself to sleep in anticipation for said event.

I guess it's now or never. I can no longer put off the fact that I will be running 26.2 miles on Sunday in an effort to raise funds for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I received an e-mail yesterday morning entitled, "Welcome to Race Week!" HOLY S&%#. Race week is here. There is no more time to prepare. No more training runs. And no more being picked up off the side of the road because I lost a toe nail sometime during the 4 hour time span my body was in motion. 

The participant guide arrived in the mail and I almost regurgitated my recently consumed glass of apple cider as I read the contents of the 20 page book. Any race that requires 20 pages to explain the timeline of the day should not be considered a legal athletic event. Unfortunately for me and my stupid life dreams, I have traveled too far in my personal adventure to turn back now! Can I just say "Eff You" Chicago Marathon marketing team for placing a photograph of seven non-athletic looking older adults on the cover of the program guide! What would make me feel even worse about my incredibly slow time or even inability to finish the race? Knowing seven men 40 years my superior have run every Chicago Marathon for the last 34 years with ease. Hopefully gramps has a strong back for carrying overweight Mexican women across the finish line when they pass out at mile 23!

Still on the list of things to do before Sunday:

1. Complete the final iPod playlist.
2. Develop list of sightseeing for the family to do while waiting 6 hours on the streets of Chicago for me to cross the finish line.
3. Pick up super rad t-shirts for family to wear on race day.
4. High five Officer Bob for putting up with me and my ridiculous training habits for the last 5 months.
5. Eat diet high in fiber in order to regulate bowels for race day. (TMI?)

To all those who have supported this bucket list dream, I cannot thank you enough! You've helped me get this far, and I only have 26.2 miles to go!

See you at the finish line!!

(I just hope I'm upright)