"There's something wrong with this."
"What?"
"It just tastes like juice and nothing else."
"Wow, that is wrong."
__________________________
If you've got a few minutes, my friends are building a little place on a little hill. Check it out here. They have an awful view- I think they're going to have a very hard time getting people to visit.
(Hopefully that link will work. If not, soon come.)
This afternoon, when packing my suitcase (hello, procrastination) I was trying on clothes just to make sure nothing fit weird or had holes in it or something else equally as likely to surprise me when I'm thousands of miles from home, or a Super Target. As I rolled things neatly into place in my bag, I came across a strange-looking wooden token. At first, I could not figure out where this might have come from or how it got into my tote. There was some lettering on it, but it was mostly rubbed off and looked like it had spent a lot of time in someone's pocket.
I looked at the token, turned it over in my hand and searched every file in my mind about when and where I could have come across the thing. As it often does, my mind wandered, and I thought about all the traveling I've been able to do over the last year. I've been with friends and family, tasted new foods, stamped the passport, stood at the top of mountains and at the edge of the sea. I've run, I've been lazy, I've taken long drives down highways that were once only a place I'd read about. I've seen the sun rise in the East, set in the West and many places in between. I've met remarkable people, heard incredible stories and have been continuously reminded that being with people, talking with them, and connecting with them is an amazing privilege.
It is truly a small, small world and also, it is a blast. I have and have had more fun than anyone ought to be allowed. For all the reasons I feel confused or somehow lost, there are a thousand more to make me feel profoundly blessed and at peace. I can't explain how the things in my life, like work, writing, running and travel balance me. To have the opportunity to be rewarded and challenged by the life you choose is a very special thing.
The last couple months have not painted a perfect picture. There has been death, anger, sadness, strife, bad news, worse news, and many an akward moment. I thought about this as I held that token in my hand today, and the memory came back to me. The token, at least as I've known it, was laying in a crack in the sidewalk as I trapsed in front of a small shop on a humid, sunny, perfect island day. In a quiet mood and waiting for dinnertime, I bent down to pick up the token. It ended up in the pocket of my shorts and a few days later, while on a boat docked in the Caribbean, the token fell out of my pocket and onto the ground.
"You dropped this," said the man who'd been intently cleaning the boat.
"Oh, thanks. I have no idea what it is, I just picked it up the other day."
"It looks like a token... I wonder what it will buy?"
We laughed a little, and joked a lot about what you could get "these days" for a token. We talked for a while but never seemed to come to any real conclusion, though I do remember laughing for a good twenty minutes about the hilarity of the word "squall." (Say it a lot of times, you'll laugh too.)
Though I still don't know what that token was meant to buy, for me, today, it bought a memory. So I'll take it with me on this trip, too. With any luck, it will buy a hundred more.
******************
I'll be away for the next couple weeks doing the token Caribbean things: sitting, watching, sailing, snorkeling, thinking, breathing... you know. There is a chance, if I take advantage of some friends, that I'll be able to post a bit while I'm away. I know that if I spend twenty minutes laughing about random weather terminology, my bloggie friends are going to want to know, right?
Heh.
So anyway, I'm off for now. Thanks for taking the time to come to my blog, both new and "old" alike. That human connection thing I was talking about earlier? Yeah, that includes you. And you... and yes, even YOU.
What I should be doing is getting this pile of paper off my desk. But what am I really doing? Reading your beautimous blogs.
What I should be doing is saving my money, paying off my car and putting even more money in a retirement account. But what am I really doing? Taking two weeks of vacation, visiting fabulous restaurants and looking at the real estate listings (who needs some huge down payment, anyway?).
What I should be doing is let my hair be it's natural self, always wear hats in the sun and count every calorie that passes my lips. What am I really doing? Getting highlights (addicted), frolicking in the sun with merely SPF 20 (that's good, right?), and eating pretty much everything that tastes good (not a lot of it, but yes, EVERYTHING).
What I should be doing is getting plenty of rest, sticking exactly to a good training schedule and and making sure to stretch on a regular basis. What I'm really doing is getting "enough" rest, running because it feels good (hello, 8:00 mile) and stopping when it feels bad, and well, of course I'm stretching. We all know I am, if nothing else, the Queen of Stretching.
The surprising part is, it's all good anyway. Life can be pretty dang awesome that way. I saw this quote this morning:
"It's wonderful what we can do if we're always doing." – George Washington, 1732-1799, First American President
Notice it doesn't say it's wonderful what we can do if we're always following all the rules. It's a good thing, because I'm clearly not built to follow all the rules.
...you know how you might have once done the online dating thing, and then like a month later you quit because you never had time to check email? Then, you went out with a few people and made some friends but never really dated anyone. Then, you really quit because you decided dating should not have to cost you money, at least not right now.
But even though you quit, the site keeps sending email to your Yahoo account because, apparently, they don't care that you quit and they think that by sending you profiles of all men within a 50 mile radius is somehow going to lure you back in. And, that you're going to pay something like $30 to communicate with people when, clearly, that is $30 you could be saving to spend on vacation.
But then, they send the emails anyway and because you're curious and bored and, well, because you're you, you open the email and look at your "matches" because hey, AT LEAST YOU KNOW THEY'RE OUT THERE. And then, one day when you're doing this curious thing, you scan down the page and bam! you see the husband of your neighbor. And you think to yourself "hmmm, that's strange" and you wonder if they're separated or something. But then, no, you see them outside together and all is normal. Then, you strike up a conversation and still, nothing out of the ordinary is revealed.
So then, because you don't know what to do, you wrestle about it in your mind: Should I say anything? It's not my business, and all those kinds of thoughts. And really, you come to no conclusion because how is that even possible? Then, as if that weren't enough, you lose all faith in online dating "matching" because dang, really? They really thought you and your married neighbor were a match? What the heck?
And then, not knowing what else to do, you go out with friends for $20 All-You-Can-Eat Crab Leg Night because what remedies this kind of strife better than seafood? And, you also have a beer.
Today is my nephew's first birthday. It's difficult to put into words how a kid, that's not even your own, can change your life and teach you so many things, just by being born. I'm amazed at how fast this year has gone and even knowing that is just what happens, I am a little sad that time moves so ridiculously fast.
I know he'll be five... fifteen... twenty in a blink. And while I don't have the right words, I also can't help but think of all the things I hope he will know some day.
In times of stress, I have been known to do silly things. And consider them to be completely normal.
I eat cereal for dinner, turkey sandwiches for breakfast and Starbucks for lunch. I wake up in the middle of the night and watch infomercials, I run outside, by myself, in the early hours of the morning and I sing in the car like no one can see me. In a moment's notice, I've bought a house, booked a villa and jumped in the car on Friday night to go to Vegas for the weekend. And I've been so lucky, not once has any of these things turned out badly. Even the infomercials.
The thing that resonates most with all of this is that none of it is probably that silly after all. It's just me, and how I do things. Which, perhaps, is why when agreeing to be on a team for the Wasatch Back Relay, I didn't feel strange at all. I was all excited and psyched and ready.
Well, that was two months ago.
Now that it's about six weeks away, I'm freaking out. I don't know if I can be ready. I'm scared of running in the middle of the night. I don't want to let my teammates down. I want to be able to rely on my body. I want to feel like this was not a stupidly insane choice and that my body (and mind) is capable of running three legs of a relay. I want to stop asking myself "what were you thinking when you agreed to this?" I just don't know how.
Yeah, yeah, relax, breathe, follow the training plan, you'll be fine. Yeah, okay. Thanks. But in case no one noticed, THIS IS A LOT BIGGER DEAL THAN CEREAL.
If last week were, say, part of a contest- a really not fun contest where a family could compete with other families, or a twenty-seven-year-old woman could compete with other twenty-seven-year-old women- to see who could have the worst week ever, my family and I would have been fierce competitors. Or maybe, if there were a television show called Worst Week Ever and they featured people that were really having a really bad week, we might have been one of the top stories.
.
The loss of a family member started the week. Then, a much beloved couple close the family have decided to separate. Then, a family member attended and then, subsequently, was stranded at a wedding-gone-wrong. In Kentucky. Kentucky, where none of us is right now. And we thought that was it; we thought we had our Unfortunate Things Happen in Threes trifecta. But then someone had a heart attack and all my theories of threes just went out the window, along with the cake I'd tried to bake but couldn't because the middle kept sinking. Twice. Thank you. (The upside to that is, you have to do something with all that icing you made. I opted to eat it, rather than slapping it directly onto my thighs. Yes, thank you, again.)
.
So many times in the last week, I've found myself just shaking my head, trying to think but not really being able to get anywhere. I've written a thousand things, most of which make no sense now and the rest of which will probably make very little sense in the days to come. I've gone for countless runs (yes, more than once per day), thrown myself into work only to come out feeling drained and guilty, and tried passing the time with friends and drinks and catching a little bit of sunlight. It's incredibly challenging to catch sunlight in between all the clouds, by the way.
.
While I know this is not the worst plight in life (I'm well aware more people than me could be on the Worst Week Ever) I'd be a complete fraud if I didn't admit to what I'm thinking right now: I have a break coming in seven days and my gosh, I feel like I've earned it.
The day I bought this camera, I knew exactly how it would be. I knew I'd be the girl walking around with her camera ALL THE TIME. I knew I'd take it everywhere and I knew I'd annoy the heck out of everyone I know because of it. When I was a kid, Unlce Joe was just about as in love with his video camera as any man should ever be with an electronic. We'd joke that he'd "follow you into the bathroom with that thing" if you didn't stop him. He's still a little like that today, though sometimes without the camera. Weird.
At any rate, the point is that Uncle Joe and his camera? They ain't got nothin' on me. And to be honest, I totally love it. I love looking at life through a lens, I love taking pictures of everything I can and I love taking pictures that other people end up loving. It's a joy that I completely expected and yet, a brand new feeling. If that isn't some version of love, then I couldn't tell you what is.
It is a fact, however, that I love the people in my life, too. Therefore following those people around constantly clicking away can get a little old for them. I understand, I've been there. As a result, I'm stuck mostly with inanimate objects and random pieces of life in front of my lens, which couldn't make me happier.
Just today, while walking the dog, I noticed all the yellow that popped up to signify Spring has started to change.
Okay, here's the deal: I want to change this blog. I don't know how or where or what, though. I do have a lot of ideas but before I do anything, I want to know what some of you think.
Should I switch to another service? Should I just mess with the layout and the header? (In which case, who knows code?!)
Any thoughts? Anyone? I have some friends that can/will help me but none of them have blogs. It'd be nice to know what others think.
Thanks for the help- I will find a way to repay! Promise!
Once again, I am in a place where I feel like I need a little escape. Once again, I find that escape through running.
Over the last several days, I have run with one goal in mind: just keep running. I didn't want to stop because anything hurt, because I was tired, because I felt as though I couldn't breathe or because my head got the best of me. I just want to keep going. I want that feeling back, that feeling of freedom; that my body is capable of carrying me for miles, comfortably. I've left the Garmin, the iPod and the watch behind. No music, no beeping, just me. It has been good.
I feel as though I'm re-learning, almost like a new runner. It seems like I'm in a new body that hasn't run ten, sixteen or twenty-six point two miles. Things feel very foreign and uncharted. But I feel strong, both physically and mentally. The physical is attributed to my dedication to the weight gym, 2-3 times per week. The mental, I suppose, is just naturally building in time, as well. One is purposeful, the other more happenstance.
In many ways, it is good to feel as though I'm new to this sport. I find new reasons to explore and new sources of inspiration. This morning I read Lia's race report. It is one of the best and definitely most poetic race reports I've ever had the pleasure of reading. I found inspiration, humor and honesty in that report, and it will be one that stays with me for a very long time.
Lest this come across as if I'm a runner completely at peace with all around me, I give you the following story. Yesterday, while out on a quick three miles, a cyclist passed me, twice. First, coming from my right hand side, where he had no problem bumping into my arm as he squeezed through on the wide path. Why he chose to pass me in that manner, I'll never know. I was irritated, but still kept my pace and eventually just let it go.
Then, about a mile later, I'd turned on the path to head back toward my starting point. I hear pedaling behind me once again. This time, there's no "excuse me" no "on your left" just a grunt and another shove to my arm, this time on the left. Mind you, this was a very wide trail. He could have passed me without so much as leaving a breeze if he'd wanted to. But he didn't.
I, of course, was twice as appalled and twice as irritated. I tried, quickly, to think of something to say as I watched him pull ahead of me. I was struggling, I was mad, I couldn't think of anything. Then, my gaze fell to the back of his shorts, where his shirt and waistband should have met. There was a gap, it wasn't a pleasant sight.
"Hey, buddy!" I yelled, out of breath.
He turned slightly around, slowing down but not stopping. He glared at me over his shoulder as if to say "what?"
"Crack kills," I said, and turned down the opposite fork in the path and ran as fast as I could.
Blogging, online journaling, writing and putting it out for anyone to see... whatever you want to call it, it's a strange thing. It seems as though the longer you do this and the more comfortable you become, the more cautious you become, as well. Maybe not so much because of the Big Scary Anonymous Blog-Reading Stalker (though I understand that is a valid fear) but more so because you start to wonder what's good and appropriate content for your blog.
Whether you try to or not, a blog sort of takes on it's own personality. Some become largely political, some are strictly and purposely nonsensical while others (like, oh, say maybe THIS blog) just seem to throw everything together and sometimes wrap everything up neatly in the end with a cute little bow.
I'm not going to lie, I like the bow. I like the way a good conclusion sounds and the way I can share how I took a less than ideal situation and found that it really turned out better than I could have ever anticipated. I like saying "look at all these beautiful things, oh how I love them! Aren't they great? Isn't everything just remarkably wonderful?" Because most of the time, life is just that.
But sometimes it isn't. Sometimes things happen and you find yourself wondering not only if you should share them on your blog and more importantly, how you should do it. Sure, the content of this site isn't always hearts and flowers bursting from sunshine and rainbows, but it's not often far from it. Or at least my mind isn't, anyway. So then life hands you some bad news, you deal with it and feel like you're working with it well but you say to yourself "I won't write about this. Not only might it be too private, but I don't know how to do it anyway." And it's true, you probably don't know how to write about it. But you sit down, ready to write about anything and guess what? Nothing else comes to mind. So now, you have two choices: writing about the bad or a blank screen. I'm never one to keep my mouth shut for long, so of course a blank screen isn't going to last.
Three days ago, an uncle of mine passed away. It was not a unique situation, as he was sick and had been for a very long time. His death was not a shock and yet, it is still very difficult. I find myself in the place of wanting to support other family members who were close to him while trying to make some peace with it in my own heart. It's a difficult situation and yet, very simple. It is a reminder to me, though I like to believe I don't need it, to value my family. To be very thankful for them, as they're the only one I'm going to get. I'm very proud of the way we support one another, regardless of feelings about the situation.
It's a reminder that time will heal and it will also reveal. While there are so many questions, there are also some answers. It's comforting to know that we can be relieved from our suffering, when it is our time. It's a reminder that we are given so many choices each and every day and that we can't let those pass us by. That, though it may not seem like it, does make a pretty decent bow on the top of the otherwise not-so-neat package.
As I drove across the still somewhat empty Northern plains of Colorado, past the heifers and the sheep farms.
.
I'm such the bad kid these days. I'm ornery and starting trouble with people just for the sake of starting it. Nothing serious, of course, but for some reason overhearing a conversation and then finding it my place to disagree (mind you, I had no opinion one way or the other in reality) by chiming in just seemed appropriate.
I know when I get like this it's because I'm just fed up. And not with anyone or anything in particular, that would be far too easy. I've simply allowed myself to get everything wrapped around me instead of caring to wrap myself around any of it.
This actually comes at a good time, though because my last post seemed to garner some interesting comments and emails. The comments, as you can see, were constructive. The emails, however, were of a variety. While I understand some people would rather email on some topics out of comfort zones, sensitivity, etc. I don't understand only emailing you're a cold hearted b*tch, no wonder you're alone, die! I can't really make sense of that. It's a timing, thing, I guess because a year ago I would have thought a while about that comment and now I just wonder how on Earth anyone has the time because, I tell you, I haven't had the time to so much as pick my nose in the last two weeks and you're off finding people to email and insult? And somehow I don't think saying people, trust me, I have feelings upon feelings. My feelings have feelings. Know the feelingless? I have some! I have them to spare! would actually help matters.
I wonder if you know of the eighteen million other things you could be doing right now, like mowing the lawn, watching Entertainment Tonight (dude, have you heard the latest on Hasselhoff?), or, if you're really bored, picking my nose. Seriously, telling me I'm cold-hearted and to die is really not constructive. Two reasons: One, there are three things that I'm 100%, all the time going to defend, and tip-toeing around feelings ain't one of 'em. Second, statistics actually do show that yes, I will die one day. So basically what you're doing is telling the sun to set in the West and baby, THE SUN ALREADY KNOWS.
Perhaps this is pointless to say anyway because I'm going to continue living in my little fantasy world where everything is mostly good and things that suck will all eventually go away. This fantasy includes the idea that me, myself and my body are just going to be twenty-one years old forever. I'm going to pretend I can bounce out of bed every morning, lace up my shoes and run like it's my job. It's not going to hurt when I walk up and down stairs, I'm not going to have to see a doctor, ever, and when I kneel down to talk to small children I'm not going to be extra careful and groan like I'm seventy-two. Because I'm twenty-one, remember? Keep up.
Mostly, it is because I'm a stubborn idiot and am somehow still feeling the need to do a marathon on Sunday that I am a) not trained for and b) still hem-hawing over three days prior. (Yes, I know.) But the plans are made, the trip is set, the people are loading up and heading out and part of my ill-prepared ass still wants to knock out twenty-six miles.
I already know how that sounds. I already know there's all this "what about the future?" and "listen to your body" business to think about. And the truth is, I probably won't do it. I will probably come to my senses and stand at the finish line and cheer and take pictures.
But I might not. Because I'm feeling ornery, you know, and also, careless.
______________________
My best to all of you racing this weekend. And my best to all of you, really!
I've coincidentally had the same conversation with three people today about the same thing. Feelings. Before, I get too far, let me just say, I am one of the most feeling-immersed people you could ever know. I cry for many reasons, sometimes all at once, I laugh hysterically when others have merely chuckled and I even get my feelings hurt by things I probably shouldn't.
Nonetheless, I think we (I guess here is where I'd insert "as a society" so everyone would know who we are, but I don't think we need that) are too into how we feel. I don't feeeeeel like doing it, we say when we have to work. I don't feel like you love me enough, we say to our significant others. I don't feel that you understand me, we say to our friends. But you know what? Who cares?
Well yeah, we care, but I really don't think we ought to so much. Who told you work or relationships or living was going to feel good all the time? Who told you you'd skip through your office door every morning feeling like you were the most appreciated person on Earth? Who told you meeting someone and loving them was going to feel right all the time? No one who isn't a liar, that's who.
I don't like it. I don't like that we're teaching kids that hurt feelings is reason for retaliation. I don't like that people can justify infidelity because they didn't feel like they thought they should. I don't like that we can sue a company because we felt objectified by a bad email. I think it's all ridiculous. Of course there are exceptions, but that shouldn't rule us. We're governing ourselves with fear and complacency rather than integrity and responsibility.
I guess I could say I figured this out a couple years ago, but I don't know as that would be accurate. As I said, I can still be a sensitive, woe-is-me-why-is-life-so-stinkin'-unfair little baby. I know this. What I've found it more practical to do is not let it determine my action. Yes, you might argue love is a feeling and shouldn't we let that determine action? Well, yes. But just feeling something doesn't make it so. I can feel all day that I need to wash my car and I can feel bad that it's dirty but until I drag out the hose, it's gonna stay dirty. Same goes for work, for relationships and just about everything else. I can feel and feel and feel that someone has hurt me but until I decide to confront that, even if it's just in my own mind, I will never get anywhere. You have to move forward eventually.
So I tell myself (and sometimes others), just stop. Stop letting how you feel cloud what's right and wrong. Stop expecting that everything is supposed to feel good in order to heed good results. Stop acting like you have to be 100% in love with every emotion running through your little body just because it's there. You don't. Some things are going to disappoint you. Some things are going to be hard. Some people are going to try to make you feel bad. This is not maybe, this is definitely. And it is going to be difficult. It is going to weigh on you. You are going to struggle and be tempted to morph into a creature of anger or sadness or fear.
But even with that temptation, you can do the right thing anyway. You will not act because of the feelings, you will act in spite of them. And you will be reassured, you will be proud. Most of all, you will suffer less. Of this, I am certain.
