I don't actually mean that I hardly have any fans, although that would be true too. And perhaps I should clarify, by fans I am not referring to the revolving blades on my treadmill that I do not actually use for cooling off as much as I do for blowing the stink of my husband's precious gifts or rather bombs that he likes to stop by and offer as I run from time to time (ok he only did this once, but I will continuously remind him of the horror of his crime and as such a horrific crime the punishment of being blogged into infamy must stand lest he forget and I become the victim once again).
By little fans, I'm talking about my girls. Chloe, Happy Birthday to her by the way, is my 3 year old who is also a running freak. From time to time, I'll take her down to my little running world, the basement, which I have setup with a TV and all sorts of her old toys she's lost interest in although they seem to have new life for her when they're locked away only to be seen on my desperate running days. Desperate running days, for me, are defined as the days that I am scheduled to run, but actually have no way of getting in my run without somehow involving my children. Because I'm sorry, but there is simply no person in their right mind who actually prefers running with their children to running alone, at least none with children under the age of about 5. It is an act of desperation.
So here's how Chloe has become my fan. On desperate running days, I take her downstairs with a snack and a juice box and a blanket and set her up with a movie. This never ever works, but for some strange reason I do it anyway, hoping it will at least stall her long enough to get in a mile or two. Once the movie wears off, I try to point out all of the exciting features of her old toys while I run. This also never ever works, but again, just hopin' to run at least a little farther. Now somewhere in the middle of all this will come a chorus of no no no, don't touch that, get off that, and sit down or I'll take you upstairs I mean it as she tries to find her own enterainment in a basement full of endless possibilities. But somehow I'll manage to stay on the treadmill.
Finally, I'll revert to this little bit of insanity. I up the pace. For some strange reason when my child hears that treadmill beep and the sound of the belt pick up speed, she suddently becomes an Olympic track star and begins sprinting in circles around the basement. Now she will do this for as long as I keep the speed up and if she starts to get distracted and I beep again and up the speed some more, she'll get back to it.
Only one problem...I AM NOT THAT FAST! So why has she become my fan? Because SHE wants to run fast but will only do it if I do. So on desperate running days, one of my littlest fans, keeps me movin' with her own cheerleading mantra "Go Mommy Go! Go Mommy Go!" and my personal favorite "Run Fast Mommy! Run Fast!" (hence my url in her honor)
So how do you punk out on a run when your 3 year old's giving you all she's got? Answer...You don't. So somehow I manage to get my run in, in an utterly desperate sort of fashion.
I'll tell you about my other little fan next time...
P.S. If you want to hear the infamous fart story, I posted the link at the bottom. That's right hon, they're all still reading about it.