It's a sad day when Paula Abdul seems to adequately sum up my life.

Smells like R.Kelly's sheets ... but it was 99 cents!

Lately my gym seems to be going out of their way to play music that sucks. And not just any sucky music - the Greats.  You know, like Billy Joel's "River of Dreams" and Paula Abdul's "Opposites Attract."  Normally this wouldn't bother me as I usually plug myself into my iPod, but I've been going au natural due to (ready for it?) double ear infections.  (Although, yes, a doctor already told me it probably wouldn't make a difference if I continued to wear them, but I know how much I sweat when I work out and my ear buds have a tendency to collect the fruit of all my hard work.)(Gross.)(Fun fact for free?  I am the stinkiest sweat-er.)(And not in a Macklemore "Thrift Shop" kind of way.)(The kind of way that's like "guuuuurl, you need to Febreeze yo'self now 'cuz my eyes are waterin' standin' next to you.")(That's why I used to rush through stretching.)(Because it was rude to make someone stand next to me post-workout as I contorted my body into positions that encouraged the stink to permeate further.)(Then I pulled my calf and really value stretching so now I'm all, "Dude, suck it up and just be a mouth breather for a few minutes.  My entire athletic future depends on downward dog.)(Woof.)

Where was I?  Oh, yes.  At my gym, kicking out the late '80's jamz.

(I do a really mean impression of Billy Joel's falsetto part in River of Dreams*.  Not that it's good; it's literally mean/mean-spirited.  It sounds best while I'm in the shower and has caused Brian to rush into the bathroom asking, "Are you okay?  Do you need medical intervention?" and me to reply, "Dude, I'm performing here.")

(*The reason I am so familiar with Billy Joel's "River of Dreams" is because we sang it in my high school choir.  Also? My high school choir was nothing like Glee; I didn't even know being in choir was something most people were embarrassed about until I got to college and majored in ... choir.  Well, I majored in music but was required to be in a choir that met everyday for all four years I was on campus, so yeah, I majored in choir.  In my high school the choir director knew about marketing so she made a lot of the popular kids into choir stars (genius) which made the teenage masses also want to be choir stars.  So our choral program was pretty big.  And not nerdy.  I'm pretty sure.)(I realize this description does nothing to help my case that our choir wasn't for lew-sers.)

I think my glasses and choir uniform are proof enough that choir was *a pretty big deal* in 1991, but just in case you weren't convinced of the level of cool required to sing with a group of 8th graders, please draw your attention to my golden-ish heart necklace with "Kelly" scrawled in wire inside.

Further proof?  Yes.  That *is* a renaissance festival gown I'm wearing because we performed a dinner/concert thing every fall called Wassail Festival.  I was totally on the Royal Court.  Which?  Was awesome.
(And look at me werking it - rocking the over the shoulder pose at 16?  A true prodigy.)

This is probably my greatest moment in performance history (not even being sarcastic now, this is truly my high school legacy - that shizz was GOLD).  We are doing "Love Shack" by the B-52's. I am so, so mad I can't find a picture with Corrie Beth as well.  We were quite the trio.

(Also not loser-y?  I went to music camp the summer before my junior year.  I spent two weeks at Interlochen Center for the Arts wearing the required navy blue shorts, powder blue polo shirt, and yellow socks.)(I lost seven pounds while I was there because I was scared to poop so I didn't eat.)(The bathroom in our cabin had two toilets in the same partition-offed area "room" behind a swinging door that had no latching mechanism.  These two toilets were separated by a single piece of chest high plywood.  You could literally touch knees with the person *going* next to you if you were relaxed enough to actually be able to do any of your business at this point.)

Ok, that was probably the greatest tangent in Sublurban Mama history.  Back to the gym.

I was on the treadmill trying to run five miserable miles while listening to sweet young Paula describe her relationship with MC Skat Kat.  I was suffering.  And not just because of the music it was also because I had runner's trots and you already know how I feel about pooping in public. I was looking at the treadmill every fourteen seconds thinking it had been at least a minute and a half each time and realizing about a mile and a half in that I was not going to be able to finish my run.  My ears hurt.  My chest ached from last week's chest cold.  And darn it, I was just.plain.tired.

I started whining thinking about my upcoming 10k.  I wanted to PR this race because isn't that the goal of every race?  I did my last 10k at the end of triathlon season; I was in my best shape ever.  Now it seems like every time I get some momentum going I get knocked down again.  Pulled calf, no training for five weeks.  Three solid weeks of training, then the flu.  Another solid few weeks and a chest cold and ear infections. "Two steps forward, two steps back."  Dude, Paula, it's like you know me. (Or are mocking me, I haven't decided yet.)

I hobbled through four miles. I incorporated three walk breaks.  It took about 45 minutes to conquer those miles.  I will not be setting a PR at this race.

So, Imma do this 10k even though I don't feel ready mostly because I already paid for it.  It's going to be ugly and not fun, but I heard a rumor there is a medal for finishers and I'm all over that.  My new goal is to finish without walking.  Even if I have to move sloooooooowly. Just keep running.

In closing, to celebrate the most disjointed post I've ever written, I've decided to get imaginary paid for every parenthesis I use.  I'm an imaginary millionaire from this post alone.