Anyone who knows me well knows I LOVE The Nutty Professor. I work a Nutty Professor quote into casual conversation whenever possible. When my bestie Amy was in labor with her first little dude, I tried to make her laugh between contractions by doing my best Sherman Klump/Buddy Love impersonation and pulling out the most crass tidbits I could call to memory (I'll stick this in the crack o' yo' ass!). Of course I'm fairly certain I mainly succeeded in offending her mom (I love you, Ms. Pat) and causing her dad to snicker in silence and shake his head at his daughter's inappropriate friend. But hey, I gave myself a good laugh, and that always counts for something.
Now, when the average viewer watches The Nutty Professor, he or she may find it to be your stereotypical slapstick Eddie Murphy classic. But as Rafiki from The Lion King says, "look harder." The Nutty Professor has tons of heart beneath all of its hilarious, timeless fart jokes. Its message to persevere despite the most overwhelming of challenges gets me every time. In fact, the blog title is inspired by one of the pep talks Sherman Klump gives himself about battling the bulge. I've been giving myself similar pep talks about a variety of things for many years.
Jason and I have decided to try and run Savannah's Rock and Roll Half Marathon in November. I think I must be crazy. I have degenerative disc disease, arthritis in my hips and feet, four kids, and the lack of bladder control to prove it. Yep, I'm owning that one all you fellow mommies, despite the embarrassment it takes to admit it. Yet for some reason I hear Sherman Klump's voice in my head saying, "yes, you can, Molly. Yes, you can."
I started training two weeks ago and ran my first mile. Ever. Since then I've sweated my ass off five days a week stepping, running, jumping rope, jumping jacks, and praying to God in heaven I don't throw my back out, pee on the floor, or lose my motivation to achieve my goal. The other two days of the week I'm in a two hour yoga class stretching and strengthening my core in an effort to combat the shin splints I already feel coming and to make sure my abs are strong enough to hold me in place when my feet go numb halfway through my cross-training class. I am determined to do something amazing for myself.
At one point while I was trying to bring Scout into the world, I remember thinking I was just going to quit. I wondered what would happen if I just stopped. Stopped trying to push through the indescribably painful contractions that two failed epidurals couldn't prevent, stopped listening to my friends urging me on, stopped trying to obey the nurse's order to quit screaming and use my energy to push, stopped looking at Spaceballs playing on the TV every time I lifted my body to curl around my gigantic planet of a belly. I don't really know what happens when laboring, exhausted moms refuse to cooperate, but I do know my beautiful little Scout was so worth every ounce of commitment I put into getting her here. After I held her for the first time, I remember thinking, "I'm kind of a bad ass. I just had a nine pound baby with no epidural."
So I can't give up. Because when I finish 13.1 miles in November, I want to be able to say "I'm kind of a bad ass" one more time. I'm going to attempt to run three miles this Saturday, and that's something I never thought I would be able to even consider doing. I'll need all the support and encouragement anyone can offer because I know I'll want to quit when it's 100 degrees outside and the gnats are setting up shop in my hair and ears. Sherman Klump will be in the back of my head the whole way, and just when I think I can't run another step, I hope I'll picture his momma clapping her hands and saying "Hercules! Hercules!"