sap-o-meter straight to ten

I made a very solemn promise to myself that I wouldn't bug all of you with a blog every time I convinced myself that I was ambulatory, but I have actually received requests for more stories of pain and suffering.....

On the eve of what is my second race, (5K Breast Cancer Race) I reflected during my training run today. I'm up to about 4.5 miles. The first 1.5 are like torture but after that it's as if the god Hermes himself, sends down a pair of his winged shoes and I take off. If he'd like to attach a handbag to that, I wouldn't stick my nose up.

I noticed a woman, this is no joke and no exaggeration involved , I swear: not a day over 65, missed the last few hair appointments, boobies to her knees, sporting a neon pink shirt proudly expressing the fact that she is a "GOOD KISSER". It took everything I had not to yell out, "me too" or "prove it" as I ran past. I believe if you advertise it, you had better be. Lots of mommies with strollers. No Gazelle in sight. I think I may have scared her off with my running prowess.

I also noticed I clench both of my hands. My right hand is always clenched like Bob Dole. I know you remember the hand with the pen. So help me if you send an email about how he is a war hero. I could possibly do better in a Presidential election too. It's OK, I'm a Republican, I can throw stones. My left hand is clutching my IPOD, which broke possibly due to my super human strength, like Charlton Heston with a rifle at an NRA rally. I fight the urge to raise my IPOD and spit "From my cold dead hands" almost every ten minutes. It makes me laugh, which is a change from stopping to cry. (See photo, notice hands, this is a photo from last year!)

Don't believe for one second that I'm Flo Jo, but now I can enjoy my time plunking away at the pavement.

I did almost start to cry today, (sap-o-meter straight to ten) when I saw two women obviously tired, walking, decked out in all of their Breast Cancer garb. The Breast Cancer three day is very soon and when my eyes were opened to these ladies I started to see more and more during my run today. Everyone out this morning was walking for Breast Cancer, a jogger in the mix every once in a while. I figured "my" ladies needed a boost so when I passed them I blurted out "Great job ladies, keep it up!" Not surprisingly they hollered back "Hey.... You too!" ( I raised my IPOD in the air. tee-hee)

Tonight before bed, do me a little favor. Pick a person with breasts to think about all day tomorrow. Send out good thoughts. (Men have breasts too.) Also send a special thought to my pal Chris. He's running for his mom and tomorrow will be a very hard day for him. His mom is an angel that watches over his children, so I'm told. I'm running for Patty Plumbleigh. She is the angel that makes the flowers bloom in spring. I always think of her in April. If you live in the Midwest or East you know what I'm talking about. She brings that little rush of joy when you notice your first spring flower, no more snow! I think of her often, powerful, considering I only met her a handful of times.

Enough sap for today. I'll write again soon with my post times. Last year I ran a 5K in 36 minutes... I hope to shave off some of that time.

Be good to your breasts. (Shout out to my favorite three day walker Bethany Zabrosky)

The Sports Bra Incident, I can't even make this stuff up.

First things first, language in this one is rated R. Delete this if you can't take a little B word.

When I tried to clasp my sports bra the other morning the clasp broke. It was metal. I think I corroded it from the amount of bleach I use on my whites. I love the smell of a bleachy white shirt. I like smelling bleach at work when I have a crisp white dress shirt on. Call me crazy, but don''t hate that I smell clean and lemon fresh.

The last time I bought a sports bra I slipped and fell in a puddle of urine. I swear to God. I wouldn't lie about that and don't think I'm bragging either. Brandon and I should be zillionaires right now, but I'm a wimp. The clerk at Walmart tried to tell me it was Mountain Dew but believe me when I say I can recognize the smell of piss. I still even bought the items in my cart, covered in urine. I waited in line. I must have looked mortified because a little boy came over to me, whilst I was rolling on the floor in pee and said, "Don't cry, someone else fell before you". Obviously this person was not wearing very absorbant clothing. Could they have been naked? Was this Walmart (Clairmont Mesa Blvd) where you shop naked and pee on the floor? Where was my memo? Walmart is on my list, and yes, those pee soaked clothes were discarded after we got home. (He still married me.)

Now that we have that out of the way, imagine my sheer and utter delight in knowing I had to go shopping for a sports bra. There is no fate worse than bra shopping other than bathing suit shopping. It shouldn't even have a great word pinned after it like "shopping". It should be called, "who wants to feel really shitty about their body today?" and the store would only carry bras, swimwear, lycra and chocolate cake. Armed with my purse and a whole helping full of self esteem I went to Macy's. I figured a department store would have what I was looking for, if Walmart carries it, surely Macy's has it. I found the lingerie department and went directly to the counter, no need to mess around. I asked the clerk- young girl- where the sports bras were located.

"What size are you?"

Keep in mind there is no one within 100 feet of us, but I lower my voice to almost inaudible. Only maybe a pigmy could here me. " 34F, but..."

She jumps backwards, rears her head back like the little devil that she is and screams, and I mean screams...... "WHOA!! I DIDN"T THINK THEY MADE THEM THAT BIG!" and starts to stare directly at my boobs!
Normal Sara would say "Bras or boobs you pigmy bitch?"

No, no that is what normal Sara would do. Normal Sara is however occupied, trying to keep her crazy psycho personality from pistol whipping the clerk with her fake Louis Vuitton bag. The magnitude of the war deep inside me must be showing by the way my face is contorting. It has been so long since I had to use my "Oh hell no look." (ask to see my drivers license). I'm just about to get the look on my face good and nasty when pigmy says: "I'll see what we have in back."

You bet your ass you'll go in back and while your at it send someone else back out. Of course pigmy returns with what can only be described as a bandeau. Please. Isn't Macys slogan "Way to shop"? I tend to agree, this was a real "way" to shop. Which "way" I don't know.

I refuse to return to Macy's and they are number 1,467,549 on the list, which is exactly the amount of money Brandon and I should sue Walmart and Macy's for in the name of my boobs. I will continue to wear a playtex 18 hour bra underneath a sportsbra for now. It is like fixing your bumper with bondo, but it works, better than any sports bra I might add. Brandon, don't act surprised when I spit on the TV during the Thanksgiving Day Parade. I hate parades anyway, but that parade is sanction by a store that only hires pigmy devils!

I got a new iPod! How was your day?