Music and a Meme

Wow, yippee!

Thanks for the feedback on the music post. I knew there was something to that whole asking nicely thing. I like just about all music, aside from extremely violent rock/metal type stuff (or whatever it may be called these days) and crude rap(ish) stuff. I don't really like women being called dirty ho's, go figure.

(And now, pardon me while I address all your comments right here, out of pure laziness.)

E.B. - I went and listened to some Ray Lamontagne samples. Thank you for the reminder!

Danielle - If you want to email me samples, please do. Or, tell me where I can get it. I'm thinking I like this GB Leighton deal. (justrungirl at hotmail)

Adam - Are you kidding? I adore some good banjo pickin'. I actually do know OCMS, too, so thanks for that reminder!

Sizzle - Honestly, everything plays at some point. I go through phases- rock, R&B, blues, country, classic rock, even a little punk lately. Whatever you want to suggest is fine with me. Thank you! (justrungirl at hotmail, like you didn't know).

Michelle - I will take you up on those preschool songs when I'm babysitting and I need to entertain!

Sister B - Those are some bendy guys, I just don't get it. But we've talked about that before. (hehe)

Dawn - We could SO go to concerts together. Except for that Robin Thicke thing, because, I mean, WHO KNEW?!?

Ginger - Wow, we could totally go to concerts together, too. I'm glad I'm not the only one that still adores Tom Petty. Thanks for all the suggestions!

Bre - Cool! Thank you! I've only heard of Murphys, nothing from Flogging Molly or Tristan Prettyman- until now!

Lia - Thank you, I'm so checking those out! And thanks for visiting my blog!

Celina - I like some Zepplin at times, too. Takes ya back, you know? Nice variety- I, ashamedly, forget about solely instrumental stuff sometimes. Thanks!

JACC - 4 gigs? Wow. If you just want to suggest one or two, that's cool (songs, artists, etc., not one or two gigs- teehee). Seriously, you pick. It will open my mind to something new. (justrungirl at hotmail) As I mentioned, nothing too scary. Thank you!



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And now, a meme. I was tagged by the fun and interesting Dawn.


1. What’s the most fun work you’ve ever done, and why? (two sentences max)

The volunteer work I've done with several community organizations. It's fulfilling, it's interactive, and it's over quick- nice thoughts, eh?

2. Name one thing you did in the past that you no longer do but wish you did? (one sentence max)

I used to have more opportunities to go water skiing- that was fun.

3. Name one thing you’ve always wanted to do but keep putting it off? (one sentence max)

I don't really put things off; not realistic things under my control, anyway (changing my mind does not count).

4. What two things would you most like to learn or be better at, and why? (two sentences max)

These aren't the only two things but, one, I want to learn to be a better piano player because I can think of no time in life when that wouldn't be fabulous. Two, I would like to learn the guitar someday as I haven't played a real song since "She'll be Comin' 'Round the Mountain" at the age of seven.

5. If you could take a class/workshop/apprentice from anyone in the world living or dead, who would it be and what would you hope to learn? (two more sentences, max)

Jimmy Buffett... because I'd like to be fiercely business-minded and intently faithful all the while living and portraying the image of carefree, laid-back fun. I'm getting better at it, but I'm pretty sure he could help.

6. What three words might your best friends or family use to describe you?

Kind.
Funny.
Impatient.

7. Now list two more words you wish described you…

Boat owner.
Wife.

(SOMEDAY! Settle down.)

8. What are your top three passions? (can be current or past, work, hobbies, or causes– three sentences max)

Being a thoughtful friend, sister, daughter, granddaughter, etc.
Being part of something bigger than myself.
Running.

9. Write–and answer–one more question that YOU would ask someone (with the answer in three sentences max)

Hey, baby, what's your sign?

Answer: Libra.

I don't believe in astrology, really.



And that's that. I'm not sure how telling it is, but you can sure tell what kind of mood I'm in today. I blame the snow.

Sometimes, It Does Get Easier

I look at you from across the table and I wonder if this is how it's supposed to be.

I'm totally comfortable sitting here, in wrinkled pants and my winter coat- you know I can't take it off, I'm terrible with the cold. We sit, eat, talk over life's frustrations. We have the same thoughts, as usual. I get up to fill our glasses, I don't even have to ask if you want more, I know. When I take a too-big bite of pizza and have to wipe my mouth with a fist full of paper napkins, you just continue talking, as if nothing happened. As if I didn't just make a complete mess of myself, like a seven-year-old. We are honest now. A there's-something-stuck-in-your-teeth kind of honest. It feels good.

You get up to cross the room and for the first time in a long time, I turn to watch you. I see the same person, yet different. I see the person I admired before, but now softer, yet stronger. I see you are more human, more like me than my fantasies of years past allowed me to make you. I see some tiredness in your eyes, but that kindness I always knew is also there. As we talk, I feel like you listen to me now. Or maybe you always have, I just now have chosen to notice.

And I like you. You're my friend. You're good to me, you've never been anything less. I was the one who allowed my mind to wander, who couldn't stop it. I saw every similarity, every shared struggle as a sign. A sign of what, I don't know. I made things into something they weren't back then. It was long ago, really, but sometimes, when you hold the door for me or leave a certain kind of message on the phone, it seems like yesterday. I remember how it felt, to see you. I remember the anticipation, the mood, the butterflies. I suppose I always will, that's what crushes do to us. We always have that imprint, somewhere inside.

And now, today, as we sit here, close and comfortable (me, maybe you always have been) I am certain of almost nothing. Almost because now, I know the difference. I know that I can love you but in another way. I know that I do, and I know that you do. I know now, because you tell me, and I listen. I listen to what you really mean. I don't know what I was so in love with in the past. An idea, maybe. I do love now, though. I love the shared dinner, and the comfort I can find in the history of our time together. It's easy now, on my mind and my heart. I've come a long way, and you have, too. Years later, I'm thinking this, at least for this moment, is how it's supposed to be.

Because I'm asking nicely

Alright, so I told you it was coming. I told you I would whine and beg as if I, JustRun blogger, were the only person on Earth. I also told you I'd demand things and expect each and every one of you to comply. However, I am going to ask nicely and that makes up for everything else.

Please, blogger buddies, share music with me. I want some good music, that may or may not be new (or new to me but maybe I've just forgotten all about it), that you love. (And yes, you, I know where I can go every Friday for some tunes but that doesn't mean they're "favorites" or highly recommended. This way, I know it's the best of the best.)

Maybe it's your favorite song/artist/band/album.

Maybe it's the newest, greatest thing in your city.

Maybe it's your all-time, top ten favorite songs, ever.

Maybe it's the CD you can't stop playing in your car.

Maybe it's the music you've been running with lately.

Maybe it's music from your high school prom.

Maybe it's something you love because of a recent concert you attended.

Whatever it is, share it with me. Please and pretty please.

Thank you and forever and ever am I in your musical debt!

Guarantees

This past weekend, I purchased a lot of airline tickets. It just so happened that I found good prices for all the places I need, err, want to go over the next six months. After dropping that amount of money in a matter of minutes, I was feeling a little guilty. A little, uhhh, financially irresponsible.

I reasoned that the savings was something that a) I worked very hard for and b) would replenish soon with a tax return and by minding my budget. Heh, well, mostly minding it anyway. Still, I wasn't feeling great. I mean, what kind of person goes and schedules not one, not two, but THREE coastal/beach vacations within the first six months of the year? Obviously, this kind of person.

After giving my chunk of change to the airline industry, I wrestled for the remainder of the weekend back and forth over what I’d done. No, I couldn’t take it back but that doesn’t mean I could allow myself to feel completely good about it. This is what you save for. But the money could go somewhere else. You do share your money. And you share your time. You’re young, you need to have fun. You’re young, you need to plan. Don't worry, you have travel insurance. And you have a retirement account, several. And mutual funds, don’t forget the mutual funds! But maybe you could have helped someone else out. This is what it’s like to live in my head.

Then, I came into work Tuesday and opened an email that read something like this:

It is with great sadness that I inform you of the passing of one of our fellow employees. Mary Jones died Saturday at her home. Mary worked for our organization for over twenty-five years and had recently retired on November 30, 2006. Funeral service and donation information to follow as soon as it becomes available.

Over twenty-five years. Retired six weeks. She wasn’t sick. Children, grandchildren. Travel plans with her husband. Plans to sit back and really enjoy life. I heard all this from other employees, employees closer to Mary than I. And now, there was nothing. She’s gone, there are no plans.

I’m often unsure of what there is to learn from death. I struggle so much with making any sense of it at all. Faith and logic only go so far, when someone’s six weeks into retirement, “the best time of life,” and it’s all gone in an instant. How can you make sense of that, sense of no guarantees? Is there anything to learn?

I have a hard time really knowing the answer to those questions. I probably always will. But little by little, and each unfortunate time I have to be reminded, I think I might know a little more. I might be a little closer to the answer. And yesterday, when I sat back down at my desk and thought about the dramatic depletion of my money over the past weekend, I didn’t feel that guilt anymore.

While I know that saving and planning for my future is important and a priority, it’s not the only priority. We also have to plan for right now. We have to allow ourselves to live right now and take advantage of those opportunities that may deplete our bank account, but will also fill our lives. Fill our souls, even, if we let it. That, I think, might be the only guarantee there really is.

Breaking Rules in Winter

With all this snow going on, a runner can get a little restless. Luckily, we had a high of something like 18 (F) today, so I planned the day around running at the hottest point possible. Hottest? Well, anyway, I wanted to go out and run.
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Admittedly, I am breaking the "rules" a little. Right now, I am supposed to run just one day per week and make nice with the elliptical machine every other day. I ran six miles on the treadmill at the gym yesterday, so today should have been either a) a rest day or b) elliptical day. I was okay with neither. You see, though, I'm lazy, in an active sort of way. Why go to the gym- which would involve driving three miles and combing my hair- when I could step right out the front door and go? I know, right?!
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So, with no pain in my knee (PT is working, I'm a believer!) and enough clothes on to add a good ten pounds, I was out the door. The trails, sidewalks and streets are still covered in snow and ice. Thanks, however, to Yaktrax, my feet didn't move anywhere I didn't want them to. It was four miles of loveliness in the world of running. For most of the run, I was able to run right down the middle of the road, my most favorite way to run. What? I like to pretend I own the road. Like that is a surprise to anyone.
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I didn't want to stop, I really didn't, but I knew I should. I knew I would want to run another day and therefore, would have to hold back on this day. Self-control, who knew. Besides, I had an ambitious winter soup recipe waiting for me at home.

Herbed Butternut Squash-Apple Soup

I say ambitious because, well, I don't make soup. I open cans, and I heat in a sauce pan. I don't make it. I particularly don't puree and combine. But I did today. And boy, oh boy, was it worth it. I broke some recipe rules, too, which is always pushing it because, as you saw, I don't make things. A skipping of the shallots and an adding of some sauteed red peppers just "for color" as my grandma would say, led to a soup experience. Yes, experience. Okay, maybe it was just a combination of having trodded through the snow, labored over a food processor and stove, and fabulous ingredients but still, it was so good! And so easy, which should be encouraging and make me want to try more recipes but oddly, I just want more soup.

By Poplular Demand

And by popular, I mean three. Three people that asked "what's this 'Part 6' business all about?" They were not around for Parts 1-5. As you'll see, they're not thrilling. But, I loves me some windshield views:

Part 5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

And now, let's all ambrace my three-day-weekend-non-posting laziness!

Some Winter Windshield on the World (Part 6)

Not ungreedy

A male friend of mine has been "entertaining" the idea of a long-distance relationship. He tends to go on a little, which I generally don't mind. Should I go? Should I not? Is it right? Is it wrong? Is it too soon since my last relationship? Am I ready? Is this the right person? Is this the right time? Is it worth the time? Is it worth the money? Is it worth the effort? It all seems a bit much for me, but everyone is different, right? It also all seems a bit much for a guy, but hey, some normal guys talk a lot, right?

And by normal, of course, I mean no one I have ever met except for this one guy who is a good guy with what I believe to be good intentions but seriously, has not a clue as to what he wants. But I assure him anyway, that if he were to stop thinking about it and just pay attention to how he really feels about this woman, most of his questioning would cease. The answers would come and if they didn't, he wouldn't notice anyway because he'd either be (a) happy or, (b) aware enough to see the red flags. I understand long distance has it's own host of complications, but at the end of the day, we know what we want. Come on, you know it's true.

What I want, for the record: A man to not feel as though he as to question whether or not it's worth the effort to see me. Maybe that's a little bit much to ask, but no one around here has ever claimed to posses a great deal of restraint or flexibility when it comes to what they want. And what they know they deserve.

High Diving

When I was three, I started taking swimming lessons. It was at the same pool, same teachers, same lesson mates and it went on for years. By age five, we were well on our way to treading water and not choking on it every fifteen seconds or so. We thought we were pros.

Then came the "big" pool. It had laps and a "deep end." A really, really deep end. With a high dive, which scared the living crap out of me all summer. Just staring at that thing made me want to jump out of the pool, grab my towel, slip on my jelly shoes and high-tail it the heck out of there. Thankfully, we did not have to go off the diving boards that summer. That sweet, wonderful, seventeen year-old swim teacher didn't even mention it, bless her soul.

A year later, I walked into the pool again, having completely forgotten about the high dive. But there, sitting on the deck with my innocent little six year-old feet hanging over the edge I heard the chilling words: "this year, we'll learn to jump off the diving board." What? Diving board? High? Above water? Oh yes, and more. They started us with the "short" board. A mere three (maybe four?) feet above the water, what could go wrong?

Nothing, really. I was all about the short board. Heck, I'd take a running start at that sucker, no problem. Go off backwards? Sure. Bounce twice before jumping in? Yeah, alright. Do a handstand and then fall head first over the edge? Challenge me, puuuhhleeaaase!

All the while, people were just over goin' off that high dive all morning long. I, being the excellent avoider I have always been, just chose to ignore it. That is, until one of the kids in my class mentioned it. Stupid Dusty Reynolds and his high-fallutin', wannabe Superman attitude wanted to go off the high dive. Though I don't remember the exact words I said to him then, if I were to go back to that scene and help myself respond with the benefit of my current vernacular, it would have gone something like dude, you must be on crack!

And then, the most ridiculous moment of my year spent as a six year-old happened. The teacher told him he could, if he wanted to. Then, as if attempting to make me pee in the pool right there, she also said that anyone else who wanted to could also go off the high dive. We just had to follow the rules (no fancy tricks on that one) and go one at a time. Wouldn't you know it, all but me and one other kid lined up. Slowly, one after the next, they took the plunge. Some going down in straight lines and screaming, others looking like jacks sprawled out and creating a smacking sound as soon as their bodies came into contact with the water. Left at the bottom of the steps there was only me and one other girl. She asked me if I was going to go and I told her I didn't know. She then said that she was and me, always the chicken at first but never one to be completly beat, raced up that ladder like it led to Disneyland.

As I approached the top, I was hardly able to stop and ask myself what I was doing. I remember slowly pacing out to the edge of the board, feeling the gentle bounce that I was certain would send me plummeting with even the slightest misstep. I remember the itch in my legs from the chlorinated water dripping down from my swimsuit. I remember the distant calls from the kids below, though I couldn't tell you what their words may have been. I remember thinking to keep my legs together and my hands by my sides, straight like a pencil. I remember stepping off.

I unexpectedly hit the water in a deep plunge, eyes closed the entire time. When I finally felt myself stop, my toes just grazing the bottom of the deep end, I opened my eyes. I remember looking up and thinking I'd never get to the top. I kicked my feet and held my breath. I kicked and kicked, held and held. I didn't have enough air, I wasn't going to make it. I was about to gasp and still, in my six year-old head, miles and miles under the water. I wanted to panic, but had no where to panic in, no one to panic to. So I kicked and kicked, and finally my finger tips felt the air, then my elbows, my shoulders, my face. I took one deep breath, then another before I began swimming to the edge. I turned, looked up at that high dive and grinned, because I knew I'd do it again.

And maybe that's sort of how things are right now. I'm afraid, yet don't want to be left behind. I'm plunging in, and not knowing what to expect. I'm looking up, waiting to get to the top and with every second, doubting I'm going to make it. Doubting I'll ever be able to breathe again. But maybe I will, and maybe I'll go back for more when I do.


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Apparently, it's de-lurking week in the blog world. Not to be presumptuous (yeah, right) but if you're here and you don't comment, maybe this week you can. I suppose nothing bad will happen if you don't but, you know, I saw a hexing book at the library today and nothing would entertain me more than to check it out because then, a girl I went to high school with would have to look me straight in the eye while she scanned the book and my card and resist the urge to say I was right about you all along.

Because I am running, a little

Today, while blabbing incessantly to someone who was polite enough to listen, I realized I've not really written about running for a while. Well, in short, it's because I can't. Well, couldn't. And now, can only do it on a "limited basis" which is a royal pain in the you-know-what! It gives me an attitude, too because whatever, he's just a surgeon who specializes in sports medicine. And knees. And is the "best in the city." And works with professional athletes. So what could he possibly know, right?

But that's okay, because he is actually doctor number five and surgeon number three that I've seen about my knee, well, issues. The first two, err, four couldn't even put a word to it. I got no diagnosis from any and either "just give it time" or "have you thought about quitting running?" as advice. My answers: ummm, no and UMMMM, NO, respectively. I had (a) given it enough time (like, say, most of 2006) and (b) you're asking me to stop running, have you no soul, man?

So finally, behind door #5, we had a winner. We have a diagnosis (chondromalacia- common in distance runners and especially, in women). And this guy, he's willing to "make a plan" and "keep me doing what I love to do." Hearing those words just about made me cry with joy. Thank goodness SOMEONE finally understands!

I am now the proud and more so, thankful participant in a 4-6 week physical therapy plan and limiting my running to once a week. Yes, it sucks, but if it will help, I will follow the rules. Also, me and the elliptical machine? We're BFF. And ever, and ever. The physical therapist is showing me all kinds of new ways to build muscles and loosen tendons and ligaments so the knee cap stays right on track, literally.

I know it sounds crazy, but working on getting this better and seeing results and feeling better than I've felt in a long time is, so far, the best thing to happen this year. And sitting here typing it I know it must present as incredibly boring and not really much about running after all. But take heart, it was either this or me talking about a friend that just got engaged to a guy she's been dating for a while now. It'll be marriage #2 for both and while I do adore them and am happy for them, there's, you know, that part of me that's saying what the heck, you were both only single for a total of 83 seconds?!

So yeah, I'm in physical therapy. The End.

Facing Aversion

Sometimes, I avoid confrontation. I suppose I do it for a lot of reasons, depending on the situation but most of it is due to my laziness or having already moved on to occupy myself with something else.

Just yesterday, I was walking down the street and turning to go into a store. The store owner was standing in the doorway, talking to another patron. She seemed to be upset about something and the store owner was apologizing. As I approached the door, the unhappy customer had turned to leave and the owner, less than two feet away from me, let go of the handle and headed back inside. She let the door shut in my face. There, in that single second I decided that store had nothing for me. I turned to the friend I was walking with and said "never mind" and we walked away.

The store owner, apparently having seen this, came back out the door and said "we're open, come in." Obviously, she thought nothing of what she did. "No thank you," I said. And part of me wanted to walk back in there and tell her why. But that other part, that avoid it, it's hard and will make you uncomfortable for no reason part, just kept walking.

I do this too much, though. With things I think are unimportant, inconsequential. I did it when I was younger, when I didn't want to hang out with someone anymore- I'd just distance myself, until we drifted apart. I don't do that now, but the problem is, the attitude seeps into other areas. Areas it shouldn't. Some things, you have to confront.

We'd been out twice. Once, for drinks, that turned into dinner. It was nice, but I was worried. "No spark," I'd told a friend. She convinced me to give it another chance. I opened an email from him. If I were a celebrity with a fan club, I'd want a letter like this. I'd want a hundred of them. He was a fan. So we went out again. I was tired, just back from a trip. And a marathon. He was anxious, obviously so. I had a hard time engaging and I blamed it on being tired. At the end of the evening, I hugged him and said sure to another phone call, another meeting.

I knew better. Somewhere, and not-so-deep down, I knew what it was. That elusive "spark" I'd wondered about before, it still wasn't there. It wasn't going to be. Something was off, something just didn't flow. It would have been missing, even if the interests weren't romantic. No click, no chemistry. None of those descriptions we use to talk about something good. Someone good.

But the phone calls came anyway. One, two, then three. I'd legitimately missed only one of those, avoided the others. I was ashamed of myself. What was I doing, practicing something this childish, at twenty-seven? So I decided, I had to make the call. And just like that, it was easy. The words came to me, I dialed the numbers. I gave him the explanation, the honest explanation. None of that "I'm so busy" or "you don't want to date me" crap. I said genuine words. Adult words. Call it nerve, call it gutsy, call it about time. What I'm going to call it, though, is growing the hell up.

Things I've Done in the Last 48 Hours That Are Really Gonna Make it Difficult for Someone to Put Up With Me Someday

- Bought two new coats online. To look fabulous, of course, and to stuff in a coat closet that is already packed and has absolutely NO room for one more coat, much less the coats of any other person.

- Bought flip flops online. Hello? They're on clearance. I know there are forty-five pairs in the closet. I know.

- Spent $45 on sending a package of my favorite chips and salsa to Canada because friends of mine are having a party and I cannot be there (don't think I did not see how much a weekend flight to Edmonton was, either).

- Spent 35 minutes on the floor with my dog rocking her like a baby because I hadn't seen her in ten hours.

- Went to the gym and sweat my little heart out on the elliptical and proceeded to take my sweaty, greasy self all over the city running errands with no regard for the noses of others.

- Went to the bookstore and made a list of all the new books I want even though there's a shelf full of unread books right here in my little house.

- Googled "how to mail beer", "how to pack beer in checked luggage", and "how to send beer to someone across the country without the beer exploding" and then got really upset that there was absolutely NO help out there whatsoever!

- Ate Chinese food for lunch AND dinner in the same day. And am sort of still craving it 24 hours later.

- Bought a lottery ticket and then spent a good fifteen minutes looking at boats for sale online because YOU JUST NEVER KNOW.

Enough

It is snowing again.

The prediction? One to three inches. We already have 6 here at my office.

I want to go home, but driving on that ice will not be fun. I should have stayed there, but software beckons.

Sure makes that ol' joint in my last post seem even better. Right now, I'd trade a million dollars in debt for never having to set foot on a snowflake ever again. You have no idea how serious I am.

On Caribbean Villas and also, lots of ( )'s

Well here's where I talk a lot about something I like and wholeheartedly expect that everyone and their dog will then like it, too. Yes, that was a warning because you know I never do that. Never.
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The thing is, you can only like something so much before you have to start sharing it with others. Relax, Internet, you are not the first. That, of course, was Mom. But now, Mom is over it and I'm tired of her what, you think you know these people? attitude and my well, no, not now but maybe someday response. She is just never okay with the way my mind wanders and dreams. She's all concerned with "how much time I spend at the computer" and blah blah blah.
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WHAT?! is this girl talking about, you might ask. And, well, rightly so. I am talking about this:

Oh yeah, I know. Ginormous surprise here, right? Dreaming of a photo that looks like it was taken on an island. What a shock. But really, this gets good. Promise.
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The place in the photo (and 1,000,000 points to you if you already know where it is*) is this. A Caribbean villa built by two self-proclaimed "average guys." (They also proclaimed themselves idiots and insane a couple times but do you see me mentioning that? Oh nooooo. Because I? I think it's genius and we all know me and my rational thinking.)
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So why am I writing about this? Well, for the most part, and as I warned you earlier, I have loved loved loved and followed their blog from nearly the beginning and now that things are complete (for the most part, anyway) I just want to share share share. Of course, I think you should go start from the beginning and read the whole darn thing but that is just me and my amazing and never-failing ability to kill an entire afternoon at the office.

At the very least, though, maybe you'll just want to read the last few months or so and then maybe go visit their new site ( and I swear I am not being paid for any of this, but you know, I really should be because this post is likely to be read by nearly a dozen people and if that doesn't say CHA-CHING! I don't know what does). Now, their new site is just evidence of their love for the island. Yes, I'm sure, like me, they loved it before as visitors but now, it's more of an "invested" kind of love. (Gee, you think, dork? They just built a house there. Duh. Really.)

Anyway.
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They say you can love your dog, just don't LOVE your dog. Well, it's a good thing the same is not true about tropical rocks sitting out in the middle of perfect, tranquil turquoise waters edged by soft, sandy beaches and littered with flip-flop wearers and fine establishments that never run out of rum. Oh, it is a real good thing that is not the case.
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Should the boys from Bongo Bongo ever read this post (and don't think part of me doesn't want to head over there and tell them about it right now) they might think they don't "know" me. Well, they (and my mother) might be right but, also, they might be wrong. They sort of do but I'm really not going to say why because A) it makes me sound a little insane and I realize I am SO pushing that envelope right now and B) they know my real name! Gasp! I know! But, just as a note to them, should they ever see this: think pants. Non-pleated, to be exact.
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So now go, off with you. Off to read about building a villa on an island and how yes, yes friend, you can do it too! Who knows, they will probably come out with a Do-It-Yourself-on-St. John kit anytime now. And, like I said in the beginning, if this sort of reading is not something that interests you then I feel sorry. Mostly, for you. (Kidding, you know I love your little, cold-loving, non-flip-flop wearing soul.)


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* Yes, I will send you your 1,000,000 points. In exchange for $1,000,000. I know, tricky, eh?

Oh.

While listening to REO Speedwagon's Can't Fight This Feeling and driving down the Interstate:


Me: I love REO Speedwagon.

Friend: Yeah, me too.

Me: No wonder people used to make out to this stuff, huh?

Friend: Used to? I still would!

Me: Alright, me too... but this song bothers me.

Friend: Why?

Me: Because, why should he have to give all that up for love? Why should he have to "bring his ship into the shore and throw away the oars?" No one should have to give that up. I mean, isn't being in love supposed to be nice, and freeing. Aren't you supposed to feel good about what you do and who you are and the things you love? You shouldn't have to give up your ship. That's just wrong.

Friend: They're not talking about an actual ship.

Me: What?

Friend: It means he's giving up all the woman chasing. It's a metaphor.

Me: Oh.

Friend: ...

Me: Well it's a good thing because that would just be stupid. I would never do that.

Friend: Well I don't think you'll ever have to make that choice.

Me: Gee, thanks. I'll never find love.

Friend: No, genius, because you'll never have a ship.

Me: Gee, thanks. No love and no boat. Great.

Friend: Oh geez!

Me: What? You never know? The odds are about the same for both!

Days Go By

It's been nearly a year since I began this blog. While that's not much for some, it's quite significant to me, if only because I've found a place to dump thousands of the billions of thoughts constantly swirling around in my head.

When I woke up this morning I watched and read some news and wondered if it was bad to feel like this, 1/1/07, were just like any other day. I still have the same thoughts, same goals, and same worries as I did yesterday. What makes this different? Should I feel as though I'm standing at the edge of something? Anything?

In two days, I have an appointment with the top sports medicine doctor in the city. He is supposed to help me with my knees (yes, knees, plural. In addition to my right knee being swollen and now painful, my left knee has followed suit since my Christmas Day run). I have had it, I am ready for help. I'm overwhelmingly motivated to run right now, and I can't. I think (and also hope) this doctor will scope both knees. I've had the xrays and MRI's, it's time to do something more drastic. I need to run. I have a half marathon scheduled in March, a full in May, another half later in the summer and probably another full in the fall. I may be injured, but I'm not losing hope. I definitely need this doctor to understand that.

Over the past two days, I have eaten enough to support a family of five. Or twelve. I credit this to football games and my grandmother requesting I bake her some more of my perfect cookies. Obviously, I could say no to neither. Sandwiches, pizza, cookies, pizza, taco salad and pizza do not make for a "hey, look at me, I've lost seven pounds" attitude, so I sure am glad the weekend is over. Not-so-secretly, though, I am glad it was here because I am reassured that I was always right about two things: cheese melted on anything makes it better and, putting bacon on pizza is culinary genius. However, I know and am okay with the fact that this has come to an end, because feeling the way my pants fit sans seven pounds, well, that's almost as good as bacon and, in my case, lasts a heck of a lot longer.

In just four short days, my sister will, once again, have to say goodbye to her husband and send him off to the danger of the Middle East. I can't even begin to express how this makes me feel. He's been home less than two months. I don't care that the President says "there's a job to do" and then proceeds to dump thousands of troops back into a war without a clear plan. I don't care that an evil dictator was just hanged. I'm glad he was captured, yes. It doesn't make up for the fact that men and women are leaving their families for "undetermined length deployments," some for a third or fourth time in two years. It doesn't change that death tolls have reached a milestone, again. I cannot write eloquently about this. It is not something I have understood from the very beginning, and I doubt I ever will. I was raised and believe leaders, elected leaders, should be respected and supported. That is what makes a country strong. Now, that's changed. It is, perhaps, what angers me most.

In about sixteen days, my sister will relocate to the West coast to finish school and be closer to family while her husband is away. Sure, I could go into all the reasons why this is a good, positive thing and the only good thing about the entire situation but really, all I can think about is how she and I will don mouse ears and recreate scenes from our childhood at Disneyland this summer.

Over the past, oh let's say 358 days or so, I've had the privilege of "meeting" some fantastic people. It's you, fellow bloggers and readers. You have opened my mind to new perspectives, new stories, new parts of the country and the world and your lives. I feel as though it's no accident that you and I have stumbled upon one another and the bits and pieces of this last year we've shared and the connections we've had are far more than I ever expected. Plus, you're super cool.

So it is okay, after all, to feel like today is any other day. Our hopes, our prayers, our laughs, our connections and our struggles are what make it so. That's the significance. Without those, I suppose, we wouldn't mind the passing of the days anyway. We might not even notice at all.

And now, 2007

People are getting all sentimental. Or they're getting all goal-oriented. Or, they're freaking out.

"Two-thousand and seven!" They scream it, as if they're surprised it's here.

"Two-thousand seven, no 'and'," I want to correct them.

I don't really believe in resolutions, you see. I don't believe in saying this year, this date, this calendar flipping moment will be the ONE thing that changes everything. I don't believe my life happens that way.

I believe, rather, that when we feel something and when we want it, really want it, that is the moment. It doesn't have to be the dawn of a new year, not even the dawn of a new day. It just has to be.

Nonetheless, I am a hypocrite. I still think about "resolutions" and things I'd like to do differently. My one rule, though, tends to be that I won't make consequential resolutions. I want to set myself up for success. That, I believe, is the key to getting many things we want. It's logical. If you don't want the dog to chew up your shoes, for crying out loud, put them away. Same goes with a resolution, I think. If you want to succeed, be realistic- accept the challenge and prepare for success.

Driving home in the snow today, I was trying to make my list. First, I thought of music. I want more music in my life. And not just that, but I want NEW music- music new to me, that will open my mind yet not offend me (note: Expect demanding post in near future). Second, I want more time to appreciate new things, like art and distant shores. After number one and two, I realized that it really comes down to one goal: I want to be more aware. I want more moments in which I feel like I'm only in that moment, appreciating everything it has to offer and knowing that it was made just for me.

So, in my non-resolute but never missing a chance to join the bandwagon frenzy, in 2007 I want to do something simple, that can only reap benefits.

Take time. Enjoy. Be aware.

Look up.

High on Christmas

I'm still ridiculously giddy about the last three days. Days spent in a fury of gift wrap, visiting, food and drink. I finished one last shopping trip on Saturday and at the sight of my last gift wrapped and ribboned, I almost didn't know what to do with myself.

But then I did. Party, of course. A Saturday night party, a Christmas Eve breakfast, a Christmas eve lunch, a gathering at Grandmas and a Christmas Day dinner of lasagna, salad (both with excessively wonderful amounts of garlic) and cookies all made for a lovely weekend of tasting goodness. The homemade pie at Grandma's after the football game was TO. DIE. FOR.

A four mile run on the treadmill on Saturday, twenty-five minutes on the bike on Sunday and a run yesterday in which I didn't track the miles or time because it was just so good made for a good maintenance plan to balance out the to-die-for treats of the season.

Christmas Day began with some chai tea and the opening of a couple gifts. Then, it was off to the soup kitchen where I ended up delivering meals to several folks unable to leave their homes for a hot meal. Once again, I feel as though I'm the one who's received a gift as I'm reminded of the pricelessness of even one day of health, family and friendship. In all the trials in this world, I truly have been spared and blessed several times over.

A friend of mine's dad, whenever asked how he's doing answers: "Better than I deserve and often too stupid to enjoy it." Isn't that the truth?

After my delivery person stint, I stopped by the parent's house for even more Christmas cheer. In all these years, my mother still maintains the title of Slowest Gift Opener Ever. She sits and watches everyone else open gifts and then proceeds to open hers not by tearing paper from the gift itself but so delicately pulling it apart that if you didn't see her hands on the package, you'd imagine that the paper were removing itself from the box by sheer will alone. You aren't sure whether to be impressed by her patience and tenderness or grab the box out of her hand and do it yourself before we grow old, forgoodnesssakes!

Later, in the sunny, sunny thirty-nine degree afternoon weather, I went for a run. My knee is still quite unhappy and the side streets and trails are still covered in snow and ice but thanks to warm sun, no wind and Yaktrax I had one of the best runs I've had in a while and, arguably, the best Winter run I'd ever had. The snow crunching under my feet and sometimes coming up as deep as just below the knee in some spots created an interesting, yet peaceful run. Everyone was inside gifting and footballing which left the roads free of traffic and left me to run right down the middle. It's so good, feeling as though the road is yours for a day. I could have gone on forever.

A freeing run to take time to reflect on a fulfilling day followed by a non-traditional Christmas meal to conclude all of it left me feeling thankful and looking forward to the new year and new days to come.

Where ever you find it

I went to the store, and everyone was in a good mood. No grouchy shoppers.

I took new toys to the toy drive and the line to drop off was nearly as long as the line of those waiting to get in.

I went to a family dinner and managed to get hugs from my teenaged cousins.

I saw my nephew's first picture with Santa Claus.

I get more Chirstmas cards every year.

The sun came out and melted just enough snow.

I ran four miles with no pain.

I took the dog on a walk and a scruffy kid with too-baggy pants and an unzipped coat stopped to pet her. And said Merry Chirstmas as he walked away.


May the spirit be where ever you can find it.

Best wishes and good health to you and yours.

My Lame Brain Means You Get Stuff

However, whether you consider it something that is to your benefit, well you can decide.


First, here are the infamously simple recipes of the cookies from last weekend:


PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES

1/2 C peanut butter
1/2 C butter, softened (not melted, this is important- trust me)
1/2 C white sugar
1/2 C brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp. vanilla (I hear authentic Mexican vanilla is best but I've yet to test that theory)
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/4 C flour

Mix peanut butter until smooth. Add sugars, egg, and vanilla and stir until smooth. Add remaining ingredients and mix well. Roll dough into 1" balls and place about 2" apart on an ungreased baking sheet.
Press flat with a fork in a criss-cross (will make you Jump Jump!) pattern to 1/4".
Bake at 375 (F) until golden brown (approximately 10-12 minutes).


SNICKERDOODLES

1/2 C butter
1/2 C shortening
1 1/2 C sugar
2 eggs
2 2/3 C flour
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda

In a small bowl, combine a separate portion of cinnamon and sugar. Mix together for the "coating" of the cookies.

In a mixing bowl, combine all ingredients (the order doesn't really matter because you're going to mix your butt off no matter what- it's a bit of a dense dough). Roll into 1" balls and then roll in cinnamon sugar mixture. Place about 2" apart on a baking sheet.
Bake at 400 (F) for 8-10 minutes.


***BONUS, because I like them and you***

SUGAR MOLASSES COOKIES

Melt and cool:
3/8 C shortening
3/8 C margarine

Add:
1 C sugar
1/4 C molasses
1 egg

Sift together (or, if you're like me you've never seen the point of sifting for cookies so you just mix it- and I tried it both ways just in case and the end result could not have been more alike the one I didn't sift.):
2 tsp. baking soda
2 C flour
1/2 tsp. cloves
1/2 tsp. ginger
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. salt

Preheat oven to 375 (F). Mix ingredients well by hand and chill for 30 minutes (this part, however, did prove to be important- that molasses is dang sticky!). Form into 1" balls, roll in granulated sugar and place on baking sheet. Bake for 8-10 minutes. The cookies will crinkle while baking and they are actually supposed to be a little darker than you think- that's the molasses!
(Makes about 3 dozen.)


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Now, for the 3 and 3 eating plan.

First, I am not a nutritionist, dietitian, doctor, medical professional of any kind.

I got a couple of emails about the plan and critiquing my approach. Here's the thing I should have mentioned but inadvertently left out because it was logical in my head: You cannot just go eating every thing you want or see every three hours. Duh, right? You can't have a five egg omelet with bacon and toast for breakfast at 7:00, then have a burger and fries at 10:00, and then a tuna melt and salad at 1:00, ice cream at 4:00 and then steak and baked potato at 7:00 again. Obviously, that will not work.

When my old trainer started me on this, my goal was to shoot for an AVERAGE of 300 calories per meal. That means a total of 1500 calories per day, MAXIMUM. I usually stay around 1200 when I'm not doing cardio work outs (like now) and 1500 when I'm running, biking, etc. That was/is specifically tailored for me, my body and my goals. What's best for you will likely depend on you, your body and your goals. It might be worth a try, is all I'm saying. Six pounds in eleven days is just the jump that almost any plan will be able to give you in the beginning. With good eating choices and exercise, any healthy plan will average out to a weight loss of 1-2 pounds per week.

That said, happy holidays to all, and to all a cookie-filled night! (Did I mention I get one free day a week if I want it? Hehehe.)

Not that you wanted to go anywhere, anyway

It may be difficult to see in this picture, but I am freaking buried in snow. That's the "view" out of my patio door and if you look closely, you can see the top edge of the drift just before the railing. I'm taking the photo from above, so you can sort of see the drift comes about a third of the way up the door.

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In other words: it was dang snowy and windy for a dang long time.

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Thankfully, the job decided it wasn't safe for everyone to come in today... I won't talk about how it took them the entirety of the "delayed start" to decide this because that would just be silly. The important part is, I'm at home and I get to wrap presents all day.

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I'm happy to get this finished now because inevitably, I've forgotten to get someone something and now I'll have a couple more days to get my act together. Yes, I've had lists -come on, who do you think I am?- but there's just always that one little gift you forget.

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I'm also a little upset with Amazon as the CD box sets I've ordered for my grandma aren't here yet and they were ordered over two weeks ago. Don't make me hate you, Amazon, just. don't. do it.

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The snow is probably going to throw a wrench in my plan for running this weekend, too. Following doctor's orders I've taken the last two weeks off from any running, so I was hoping to get my first run in this Saturday and, if that went well, I'd then be able to do my "traditional" Christmas morning run. Last year, I was able to run on Christmas day in shorts- it was sixty degrees (F). I'm guessing this year is going to be a little less pleasant.

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Though I haven't been running, I can't say I feel entirely lazy. I'm glad to have taken the time off and though I thought it would be horrible at first, I now realize the purpose of rest after a marathon: to heal all the little stuff and realize what really hurts. Heh. Really, though, I've been strength training and stretching which are two things I neglected in the past six months.

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Also, and I feel a little silly admitting this, but the Three-in-Three challenge (Nicole's idea that I invited myself to join in on) is going well. Better than expected, actually, as I've lost six pounds so far. I contribute this partly to not wanting any of the billion cookies I baked and also to finally taking the time to get to all the things I'd put off before the marathon.

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I also have gone back to the Three and Three eating habit that my trainer put me on years back (the fact that this is also a "three" thing is strictly coincidence, I promise). You eat only every three hours and not three hours before you go to bed. It's really quite easy. It allows me to plan ahead (which I believe is THE key to healthy eating) and I'm never really hungry. If I eat at 6:00 a.m. and am hungry at 8:00 a.m., I know I only have to wait another hour before I eat again. It's not torture to me and often, I forget about the schedule altogether. Another good tip is to make sure every meal or snack contains protein. Also, if you're going to include a lot of breads or crackers or something, do it before noon. I don't know why, though I'm sure there's a science to it somewhere, but this makes a huge difference.

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This also helps in getting my head together. I feel a little more successful and a little less "stuck." Life wise, anyway. I'm still stuck in the snow.

Always the same, like never before

This past Saturday, I baked eight dozen cookies. The same ones I always bake with a couple extra batches thrown in. I never tire of baking cookies I like, so it's always a predictable contribution from me. A friend of mine has a cookie exchange every year and while you may be thinking that a cookie exchange sounds awfully dull and boring, she also serves food and drink, and things like hot chai with Bailey's (my personal favorite) and wine. Instead of exchanging recipes, we all sit around, eat celery dipped in dill something or other and talk and gossip and joke about all the injustices in the world. Particularly, about how designers can make clothes any size they want to and then slap a number on it and call it an 8. That way, at one store, you're feeling dang good and the next, you want to hang yourself in the fitting room.



This bit of the holiday season is actually one of my favorite parts of all of it. I'm at home, in comfortable clothes, mixing and blending and rolling and measuring. I have the Christmas music annoyingly loud and the entire house smells like a big blanket of sugar and spice that you want to wrap yourself in for the entire Winter, only leaving for more warm-from-the-oven goodness. I feel quite domestic in times like this and not so much because I didn't burn one single batch this year, but because I answered the door and greeted the UPS man while wiping my hands on my apron. What, I ask you, is more domestic that that?

This is also the first year I didn't feel the need to eat every single cookie I'd baked. Usually, I have to eat one of each batch (I know, I know) but this year, after eight dozen cookies plus two experimental recipes (not pictured), I was so sick of cookies I could have thrown them out and not blinked. But I didn't, I sealed them all tightly until the next day when I transferred them into a tissue paper lined basket and presented them at the party. (Presented in a basket. That sounds ridiculous. I can't even spell Longaberger!)

I also was careful to save a few cookies for the constructive criticism of the best cookie baker this side of the Mississippi. Which side of the Mississippi, you ask? All sides. Grandma, of course. I always want her opinion and even more so in the last couple years. You see, I've developed quite the competition of cookie baking with Uncle Joe. Uncle Joe, forester and lumber guy by day, is a baking dynamo. He bakes pies from apples grown in his back yard, for crying out loud. Anyhow, a couple years ago, he shared some cookie recipes with me. Particularly, Snickerdoodles. Everyone has always ooooed and ahhhhed over Uncle Joe's Snickerdoodles, including me. (Chocolate hater = HUGE fan of the non-chocolate cookies.)

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It wasn't long, though, before I hated waiting for Uncle Joe's cookies. I wanted to make my own, all the time. So, I started with the exact recipe, an approach which lasted batch after batch for a good year. Then, one day when I was feeling particularly critical of the World's Most Perfect Non-chocolate Cookie, I decided to use half the shortening required in the recipe and make up for it in butter. I did the same with the Peanut Butter cookie recipe.

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Best and likely the most important decision I've ever made in the kitchen.

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So this evening, at Grandma's, I nervously handed her the tin of cookies. She opened it, removed one, took a bite and thought carefully. I, sitting on the edge of my chair for what seemed like a good ninety to 100 seconds, leaned forward.

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"So, are they good."

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She just sat, took another bite, leaned toward me and whispered, as if we weren't alone, "Better than Uncle Joe's."

Christmas miracles come in many forms.

Tall, Tall Trees

You know, it never ceases to amaze me when you get to have these little "epiphany" type moments at the most random times. Really, it's just incredible that we get to grow and progress enough from time to time so that we can really see the purpose or value in a moment.

My moment, just the other day, was completely unexpected- as they often say the best ones are. I was reading Michelle's blog and this post. To most, it would seem like any other post. We had a storm, a power outage, a run, etc. What's extraordinary about that, right? Admittedly, while I always enjoy Michelle's posts (really, her ability to find just the right mix of enthusiasm and laid-back is incredibly admirable), I thought the same. It's good to hear the perspective of a storm and outage like that from someone who's in it, rather than the news but that's it.

Until I read this part:
Today as I was walking the dog, I took a good look at our trees and decided that I had underestimated their height. I'd say they range from 75 to 125 feet. I also counted - three in the front garden, ten in the backyard. Of these, there are probably eight that I cannot fit my arms around. The middle one in the front is a skinny, woodpecker drilled thing that is mostly dead. Eric and a neighbor have grand plans to take it down on their own. It's probably an okay plan because it is one of the shorter ones. I guess we'll find out next summer.

This is where my "moment" occurred. Big, almost dead tree removal? Epiphany? Wait... what?

Yeah, I know. But stay with me, it all sort of flooded into my head. I pictured the trees in my mind. I pictured this "almost dead" tree in a front yard, in front of a house. I pictured the front windows, a driveway, the street in front of the house. I pictured the family that runs (ha, pun sort of intended) in and out of that house every day. I pictured the hustle and the rushing around, and the quiet moments, too. Not necessarily of Michelle's family, but just of a family. Lives running in and out of the house, past the old, almost dead tree. And then, when she says "Eric and a neighbor have grand plans to take it down on their own. It's probably an okay plan because it's one of the shorter ones. I guess we'll find out next summer." Just like that, so easy.

"I guess we'll find out next summer."

And that's where it happened, and something clicked in my brain. There's a feeling there, something I can't quite point out. I can't explain it. But, at the same time, I want it. I want that part of life where you have a big huge tree in the yard that has to come down and it has to happen next summer and somehow you're just "eh, it'll happen... whatever, no big deal." Because now, in my current state of mind, I would be something more along the lines of "tree? Old? Dead? Has to come down? When? How? You? You're going to remove it? Isn't that dangerous? Won't it be difficult? And when is there time for it? And what and how and when and you, mere mortal man and tree, huge ten-ton tree? HOW?!" Relaxed, don't you think?

Wanna know what I think? I think I'm a little nuts. I think my brain has to slow the heck down for five seconds and take some time to realize I don't have to figure out the entire world of tree removal (or anything else that's going on in my little reality) RIGHTTHISVERYSECOND, ORELSE!! Because that feeling of nonchalant, no worries, comfortable right where you are, dealing with life as it comes to you sounds a whole lot better. And, the best part is, I'm totally capable of that. A little more so every day.

I think basketball may have been on t.v.

Don't you hate when you're tired and worn out and you've already made plans and you don't have a good excuse to get out of them -or at least one you can live with- so you go anyway? And you hide your yawns and you try to concentrate. You laugh and joke and do your best to engage but your mind still slips to thoughts of your home, and your bed.

This was my night. I'd already made plans. I came home from work, rushed around, showered and got ready to go. Then, on the drive, it hit me: I am too tired for this. But, I couldn't go home now, so I showed up. Right place, right time, wrong person. Me, of course. I just wasn't there.

I played with my brain a little. Trying to repeat things that were said, so I'd remember. So I could remind myself I cared. So I could stay awake. I looked at the lights, squinted a little. I watched the kids running around, hoping their screams would keep me awake. I gazed out the window, and at the television. Hockey on one, basketball on the other. It's that time of year, I told myself.

Two hours in, I couldn't hide the yawning anymore. I yawned, politely. I stretched a little, drank more water and was glad when the check came. I had laughed, I had asked questions. I tried to be engaged, and engaging- figuring the entire time that it seemed so fake. The bad news is, I don't know if it worked. The good news is, I'm still too tired to care.

I Am Terrible With Crushes

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I could never pick just one crush
But if I could, it would be YOU!


Sorry to Miss Sizzle, I have failed. I could not pick a "crush", it's just too difficult. There are several insightful women and men I "know" in the blogging world and, even if it's just in my own mind, I would feel bad for choosing only one. Not so ironically, this is how I operate in life, as well. Rather than picking just one to admire, I often give myself several choices depending on my mood. Hopefully, my ingenious poetic talent will make up for my indecision!

Do I Know It's Christmastime At All?

I have not gotten into the Christmas spirit this year. Save for a wreath and a stocking, I haven't pulled out a single decoration. I haven't turned on the Christmas music I usually love. I haven't looked around the neighborhood to see the effort of stringing lights and the careful placement of candy cane lawn ornaments. It has all happened while my back was turned.

I was really busy up until now. I've missed the lights and the trees, the parties and the cards. Thanks to the internet and a couple lunchtime errands, I've skipped wandering the stores altogether. And now, it's all going on and I feel like I'm watching it from the outside, through a window. I'm going through the motions, but I'm about as unplugged as Willy Nelson in the back of a tour bus, minus the dope.

I'm not really bothered by it, either. What's strange is that I'm okay with it. When I think of pulling out all those decorations, I think of the time and the work, not the twinkling lights and sentimental ornaments. I think, to myself, that they'll only be up for a couple weeks anyway and, somewhat sadly, what's the point anyway? Who's going to enjoy it? Me and the dog? Nah, I'll just go see my mom's ten Christmas trees if I need a dose of that. And it seems fine by me.

I find my mind already wandering to January and beyond. To healing my foot and my knee, making more time for weight training, late Winter and early Spring events and 2007 travel plans. I'm thinking about better triceps and sun, not garland and snow. It surprises me how complacent I am, but I feel like if I just do everything I need to, like send the cards, bake the cookies, give the gifts and look at the lights, I'll be doing what I'm supposed to do. Maybe I don't have to be over the moon about Christmastime, as long as I find a way to appreciate the season and steal a moment or two to remember what it's about, maybe that's enough.





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Thanks for the kind comments and emails lately. Obviously you are in the spirt. I appreciate it. :)

And so it's done, and I'm a finisher

I didn't know I'd feel so many different feelings today. Things are running the gamut of emotions. I never want to run again, I want to run again tomorrow. I miss my running friends already, I'll see some of them soon. I want to eat a house, nothing sounds good. I want to take a nap, I can't sit still. I want to get busy at work, I can't concentrate. It's all very strange.

The pre-race feelings, I could describe. I could chalk them up to nerves, excitement and anticipation. This? Is just a little different.

The race, it was fantastic. I did not have an expectation of time, really, but I was happy with my result. It wasn't my "dream" time but it wasn't "worst case", either. I suppose I would have been even happier had I not ended up with a sprained foot, but such is the unpredictability of running and racing. The knee problem that won't go away came back to haunt me a little, too, but nothing horrible. As of today, the doctor told me to stay off it completely for two weeks. No running, cycling, elliptical or weights [on the legs] at all. Then, we'll see what it does. As of now, it's got some fluid/swelling going on but not significant enough to drain (I know, gross). So, I will wait. All I'm allowed to do is Yoga or Pilates and upper body weights. I can handle that, though in my head I just picture my cardiac fitness going straight out the window. Ugh, the thought of rebuilding makes me nauseous.

So, the race. Like I said, it was great. It was so much fun, everything from meeting up with my friends early on to the pasta dinner, the race itself and the celebrating afterward. No matter how many people continue to participate in marathons, I'm reminded that it is a BIG DEAL. There are only something like one in a thousand people that could actually complete the distance of a marathon and thankfully, I am one of them. I'd venture to say, though, that I wouldn't be without all the wonderful people I've encountered along the way (in racing, training, discussions and beyond).

This race, in particular, was powered by the strength I've found in the running community. For those that aren't in it, I'm not sure I know what to compare it to. It's a remarkable thing, really. With the exception of the occasional snooty runner, everyone is really just as welcoming as you'd expect a best friend to be. Michelle over at Back of the Pack recently posted about this phenomenon and I could not agree more. It is a very unique experience and privilege to be a part of this community.

In the group I met at my race, we had every speed and ability of runner possible and I am not lying when I say that each and every one of these people embraced one another. From those who finished in 3:18 (completely unfathomable to me) to those that brought up the tail at six hours or more, everyone congratulated and celebrated together. It is an awesome feeling to know that I get to be part of something so special.

So, today as I sit here with all these different emotions, I am certain of this: I may not be terribly fast, my body not be made for running but I have definitely chosen the right place to be. With all the other unanswered questions floating around me, I am glad I am certain of at least this. Running has brought me a sense of peace and community that I otherwise would have never known. That is worth more than feeling great for 26 miles or any medal I've ever received- though receiving the medal was quite a good feeling!

Thanks for all the support and advice over the weeks of training, too. It's great to be able to relate my triumphs and woes of running to both runners and non-runners on this blog and get the insight of others.

I'm sure my feelings and emotions will be all over the place in the next week or so, as I come down off this ride and work on finding another challenge. For now, I'm just going to get my knee back to working, rest the sprained foot and enjoy the marathon story-telling I'll get to do around the holidays. I'm also joining Nicole over at Powered by Vegetables in her 3 in 3 "challenge." There are three weeks until the end of the year and I'd like to lose 3 pounds. Not because I feel I'm three pounds overweight or that my Winter sweaters will look that much different minus the three, but more so because I like the idea of the distraction and the challenge. It's going to be a little tough seen as I can't get much cardio in but I think I can do it now that I'm not eating like I was during training. Join us, if you'd like, because really, there are no consequences or prizes-it's just three pounds.

Don't you want to be me?

Okay, so we're t-minus three days till marathon day. (Seriously, if you want to know where I'm going to run, just email me. I will tell you. For obvious reasons, I don't want to post it here.) I am doing my normal, pre-race freak out. Times one thousand. I am eating well, this is honestly the most balanced seven days of eating I've likely ever had in my life. It's not that I think I am going to be a better or faster runner if I eat clean this week, it's just that I want to leave NO room for error. Keeping the system, uh, regulated is job one. Also, skipping on the sugar and large quantities of fat (read: grease burrito from that place on the corner) is probably helping to calm my nerves quite a bit. However, I have not given up caffeine because, let's face it, it is the juice of life and the purpose for my wide-eyed existence. Diet Pepsi is my drink of choice. Yes, I'm sure the aspartame is doing a number on me, got it, thanks.

I'm also having a super-difficult time concentrating at work. I have two out of three projects I need to finish my the end of today, finished. However, I have been putting one off because I have to call this one lady in particular to finish it up and, gah!, I do not want to talk to her. She is just a downer. She's grouchy and lazy and never excited about anything and, my gosh, I try not to judge but someone needs to tell her it is NOT okay to wear sweat pants to work. It is NOT. Believe me, honey, if it were I'd be all over that. I'd be here in my flannel jammies and my slippers because that is my most favorite "outfit" for this time of year, but no, it's not okay! NOT! So, I don't want to call her. If my mind weren't going a bajillion miles a minute, I'd get into the fact that this woman and her attitude and her attire represent everything that I don't want to be but gah!, I have 26.2 miles to think about. And also, packing. And also, a carry on. And also, errands to do before I go. No deep thinking here.

I don't know if this makes sense or not, but I am possibly more excited about going to this marathon and meeting up with some friends I haven't seen in a very long time than I am to actually run. Sure, I've trained and battled injury and suffered through a year of ridiculous knee problems but really, there are just a few people that I can't wait to throw my arms around and hug, possibly to death. That is how much I love them. They are funny (like beyond hilarious, wear-your-Depends funny), supportive, kind and my gosh, MY friends. I wish there was some way I could tell them how motivated I am by just being in their presence. I hope, with every step I take in that race, I can find some way to be half as wonderful to them as they have been to me. I hate that miles have to stretch between us but I love, love, love that we are coming together this weekend. It is honestly going to be one for the record books and if I had talent and time (and my mind weren't doing that bajillion miles a minute thing) I would post some kind of video of me and the sheer joy bursting from every part of me due to the excitement I'm experiencing right now. Phew!

And oh, yes, there is that 26.2 to worry about. You know, I am not usually an outward type of hopeful person but, my gosh, I just hope and pray that this confidence and reassurance I have in my head and heart right now for this race is real. I am so thankful to have even been able to train these last sixteen weeks. SO thankful. And I just hope that these day dreams I'm having about the course and the people and my friends and that finish line are somehow based in reality. I am sure this all seems a little insane, but you know, that's me! I'm a little cracked but, I think, in a good way. In a way, I hope, that gets me through this thing. Also, I'm a little worried about not getting up in time, not being able to do "business" properly before the start and about forgetting something (like shoes, bodyglide and safety pins). Whew! See, a little cracked.

I'm off for a few days, hopefully to return sufficiently tired, satisfied and thrilled to have a break. And if that doesn't work, I can always just add some rum to that Diet Pepsi.

I LOVE the Drive In

Thanks to Runner Girl FL over at Run Baby Run, I can now dream of my dream day:
(FYI: You don't get to pick the groom/bride, location or design. Because no, I would not pick Brad Pitt)

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Just Run ~and~ Brad Pitt

November 21, 2021 at 5 pm

Location: At the drive-in

'What will your wedding invitation look like?' (QuizGalaxy.com)

I'm less than thrilled about the groom, but the location friggin' rocks!

Diversity

A group of my running friends and I are talking while listening to a friend's music. He was in a band in the 80's, he wrote several songs, which we all listen to now. I'm always joking about how if it weren't for running, we'd likely never have met. We're all often joking about that, actually. Sometimes, when we're all talking and not running, this is abundantly clear.


Me: Wow, J, this is good stuff. Nice guitar in this one.

A: Yeah, I like it.

H: I'd like to rock out to this on the way to work.

Me: Listen to your voice, holy crap!

J: Yeah, I wrote all kinds of this hard stuff back then.

S: Burn me some copies, okay?

J: Sure, no problem.

O: You know this is really awesome. Thanks for letting us listen. You know, the only thing that's missing?

J and group: What?

O: Banjo.

AFTER

I've started using the excuse of "oh I'll do that AFTER the marathon" or "I can't think about that until AFTER the marathon." Right now, I just want to pack, eat well, sleep well and check of everything on the ten checklists, ten times.

I've traveled to races before, I don't really know why I feel unprepared. I mean, I have checklists!

Situations in which I've used the race as an excuse to put something off:

Finishing my Christmas shopping.

Decorating for Christmas.

Getting a hair cut.

Going through the mail.

Any laundry that does not involve clothes for the trip (you should see my wardrobe this week, lookin' pretty hot!)

Writing Christmas cards.

Starting my end of year tasks at work.

And I'm sure, much more.


However, I have found time to book my villa.




Priorities.

Because after this week's craziness is over, I'd like something to look forward to.

Owed

Over the past month or so, I've been on more first dates than in the past five years combined. Gee, the adventure a cold day can bring. There have been a couple second dates, as well.

Overall, it's been fun. I'm pretty surprised at how good I am at conversation. This is not to say I'm attractive, interesting or intriguing to everyone, but I haven't had an awful date. That said, I haven't had a "spark" beyond friendship in any of these, really. I've actually been able to make a few friends, which is cool. My count of male friends has really gone down in the past couple years. So, it's a good thing. I have plans to go skiing with one guy and his sister next month. We agreed that we weren't a match but both have trouble finding people to ski with, so we're doing that. I won't go alone with him, because we are not dating but if we can form a group (i.e. sisters, etc.) that's fine by me.

I suppose some of this is a little disappointing, seen as it is a dating service, but if the story I come away with is how I made some new friends, I've probably already beat out half (or more) of those experienced in online dating. In some ways, that's good enough for me. In others, it's a little exhausting because then I have to think about the whole when and if thing more; and you know how my little mind goes, and goes. I told a friend this the other day, and how I just didn't want to try that hard right now. I told her I was a little tired of it and that I wouldn't keep up the online thing and maybe not be too concerned with dating at all. She knows me and she knows I can do this. She knows I can block things out, at least temporarily. I expected her to say "sure, take a break." Instead, she said this:

"You know what? No. You don't get to quit. You don't get to convince yourself that timing or karma or lack of energy have anything to do with your dating life. If you want to stop the online dating thing, that's fine but you don't just get to quit altogether."

"Why?"

"Because, despite your claiming a destiny of Old Spinster Cat Lady, though you don't even have one single cat, there is someone out there for you! I know you can't see that all the time and I know it might get a little difficult to believe but it's true. It's true and I see it. I see it in you and you know what?"

"What?"

"You owe it to that person to not give up. You owe it to him to be 100% looking for him, the RIGHT guy, when he finds you."

It seems so obvious. Of course, it's not about only me, it's about him, too. I owe it to myself, and the person that might come along. Maybe this statement doesn't apply to everyone. Maybe some things do happen when you least expect it. But for me, right now, I believe it. I want to believe it.

Helping of Snow

When you need to sit inside, get your house, your suitcase, and your thoughts together, it helps if it's cold and snowy outside. Thankfully, this is what I'm getting today. We're getting a good share of snow and though I hate it, it's going to help.

I'm not running today, treadmill or otherwise. According to schedule, I ought to do an eight miler today but according to my knee, I need to take some Advil, rest and have confidence that my training will get me through the marathon.

I have some good friends that are a doctor and nurse (and husband and wife) and they are both reassuring me that rest and keeping the knee from getting stiff are the best things I can do for myself right now. I am doing my darndest to believe them, afterall aside from being adorable and successful, they have something like 14 years of combined schooling and twice that in experience. And my medical knowledge comes from working at a veterinary clinic for four years and Google. Obviously, I need to listen to them.

Inevitably, though, the nerves will still get to me. I'm trying to stay calm. Trying to take care of myself. This last week before the race, I have a pretty well-planned diet, I'm avoiding alcohol and excessive sugar, I'm stretching; just trying to maintain. Later tonight might put that off course a little becuase if someone I'm having dinner with wants to order me a glass of wine, I am not going to refuse. But overall, I'm just trying to not lose my mind in taper-mode.

M friend, the nurse, told me that these last couple weeks before are PMS (Pre-Marathon Syndrome). The body and mind are a little whacky, which is remarkably similar to the actual PMS. I've tapered for half marathons a ton of times, but the experience is different. Completely different.

Which is why I'm glad the snow came today, and who would have ever though I would say that? I needed something to make me stay in, relax and take care of business. And also, a good reason to drink tea and watch a movie or two.