Somewhere between pressure cooker and all-out bonfire*

I suppose there is risk in everything. There is risk in liking, most definitely risk in loving and hopefully some kind of assuring risk in committing. There is risk in expression as much as there is risk in keeping your thoughts to yourself. And though I don't have a site meter and doubt there are more than a couple dozen people around here on any given day I sort of feel like I've had this blog long enough to understand the risk in having an opinion. An opinion on the Internet, that is.
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I've had plenty of opinions prior to my blog experience, of course, but I'd venture to say this is it's own kind of special risk. Perhaps that's just my way of feeling good about what I write and how I share it, or because I love other blogs too much, but whenever there's a little bit of disagreement I wonder if I'm not getting scared. I mean, I want to share my opinions and I don't mind if no one agrees but I start to wonder if that's okay. I start to think about the chance of offending others.
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I struggle between writing from my gut and writing in a way that will allow me to relate to my known readers. I mean, without naming names, how does one go about sharing life's details without offending anyone between the ages of twenty-three and fifty-something? How do you write if you're constantly thinking about what the college student, or the father of four or the wacky cyclist or the pastor or the One You Call Your Internet Mom are going to think? How do you even begin to be authentic? And I don't mean what those people are going to think of me personally, I just mean in general. While I'd say I pretty much do whatever I want, I do like to think I do things with intention. I believe we can be careful without being too self-conscious.
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I'd also like to think I make an effort to think about what I say and how I say it. So when I write about the peace I feel floating in crystal clear water, it is really how I feel. And it is not just because I had a beer on the beach that day; though I can honestly say I feel like being able to experience moments where you feel at peace in your life and where you are, where you've chosen to be, are a blessing, even if they include a beer. There is nothing wrong with that.

I struggle a little about sharing some of my adventures and the experiences I'm able to have, fearing they'll come across as gloating. And though I've said many a time that a life well lived ought to be shared, the natural doubt that comes from so much good contributes it's share of guilt. I want to be sure that somehow, through sharing, I absorb the experience and the gratitude I feel in an otherwise impossible way. It is not just the experience itself that feeds me, but the perspective I get by possibly relating to another that makes it better. Richer.

The truth is, there are hard times in life. There's bad stuff in my life and your life and the life of the guy next door. There are things I don't like about myself, that's for sure. I try to work to make these things better, sometimes. For instance, I know I can become a better writer and photographer and maybe even a better runner. I know I can be a better friend to some and I know I can become better at knowing when to let things go.

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I am learning. I keep telling myself I can learn to like créme brûlée, but that's probably not going to happen so I'm learning to be okay with liking mole (pronounced mo-lay, F.Y.I.) and finally building up enough of my oh-so-white-girl tolerance to handle food with some kick to it.

But you know what I think? I think we all know that. We know all about the hard stuff. We live it and deal with it every day. We all struggle with our choices and the demands in our lives and try not to lose our minds on those days when we have seventeen different things to do and, oh yes, they are all important.

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So when it comes down to it, when I sit down to write a post and wonder to myself what is sitting in my mind's queue waiting to come out, I guess I don't think about the risk I might be taking as much as I'd thought. I try to aim to create something a little lighter, perhaps more interesting than the oatmeal I had for breakfast but less interesting than, say, politics. (Heh.)

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I guess my point is, when I might be so lucky to have people read what I write and then have something to say about it, I'd rather it happen in a way that feels good. I'd rather enjoy the little bits and pieces of life we can be so quick to glaze over. I'd rather be serious yet still joke about ridiculous, silly things. It's a tricky balance and it's not always possible but I've tried it both ways and I think it's better this way. If it's true that there's a place for every one of us, and all our words, then let mine be the place where I can slow down, do my best to absorb everything that's good and most of all, share it with care but without worrying about the risk.

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Coming to that conclusion here, in black and white, as they say, is a lot more refreshing than I imagined it could be.

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* Alternately titled: No this is not just a sneaky way of posting more photos

Shhhh, the birds aren't even awake yet

I went out for another 4:00 a.m. run this morning. As strange as it feels to type that, I have to say I really don't mind the early morning running. I'm the sort of person that will get up early and as long as I don't have to talk to anyone for a good hour or two, I'm fine. Some may even say cheerful, but they shouldn't. Because that would violate the no talking rule. And yes, you should know that rule.

I was thinking about this today, when I was running and breathing in the cooler Fall-like air. (No, I am still not prepared to be in full-on Fall. Yes, I know that's ridiculous. I don't care.) I listened to my feet hitting the pavement and thought about how I really do love that early morning time. It feels so private, like it belongs only to me. I have a few friends that run early, but with people. I do like running buddies but something about that time on my own just makes it better. No traffic, no beating sun, no exhaustion from the day yet. Just me and my half-asleep brain which, if you haven't noticed, is when it's at it's best. The brain is just better before it's awake and in full Analysis of Life and All It Contains mode. Like what you'd imagine a "normal" brain to be.

So back to my propensity for quiet in the morning- I love it. I guess I just need the time to stare down the barrel of a full day. When I was a teenager, still living at home, I used to wake up early to read the paper. Often, my mother would wake up and begin talking to me. This is normal for her in the morning. So there she'd be, having an entire conversation with me about the dentist and hockey practice and the dog and there I'd be, staring at her hard enough to generate enough will to cease her voice with my mind. It would usually take a good ten minutes for her to look at me and say "okay, we'll talk about this later." I'd nod and go back to my Cheerios.

I'm lucky that this was just my mother, who has been willing to let me be me my entire life. What am I supposed to do when someone doesn't get this? I think it's reasonable, but then again, it's my rule. And I don't have many rules. Be kind, be willing to learn, work hard and, for gosh sake, DO NOT EXPECT SERIOUS CONVERSATION FIRST THING IN THE MORNING.

I need to find a nicer way of saying that.

This wouldn't be so sappy if she weren't laying on my feet right now

The day I brought Lola home, she weighed 5.2 pounds. As I've written here about her before, she was a "rescue" which is code for Everything That Can Possibly Be Wrong With a Dog You, You Lucky, Lucky Sucker, Will Find It In This Dog. Yes, that is a title. And it was hers. She was 5.2 pounds of mange-infested adorableness with a extra large side of gastro-intestinal issues.

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But when she licked my hand and raised her little non-existent eyebrows that wrinkled her bald, crumpled forehead, I knew she was mine. She was the little, squirmy piglet I'd always begged my mother to have, come fifteen years late.

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Lola has come a long way, though. Through those beginning weeks of mange dips (13 weeks (it normally takes 6-8)) and dog food experimentation, which still sometimes proves to be a challenge, she is now nearly the perfect dog. Yes, there have been days I've gotten out of bed, walked down the hall, in the dark half asleep, and stepped in vomit, but by and large, she makes no trouble.

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In fact, she has this tricky, almost evil way of looking at me when I've stepped in said vomit pile that makes me feel like it was something I did to make the mess. Like, woman, it was you who coaxed it out of me. And then all at once I feel incredibly guilty about everything I've done in the last month that hasn't been something that caters directly to her needs and desires. I am the guilty one.

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And boy, does she do this ALL THE TIME. The worst part, it usually works. I don't really have the "ideal" dog-owning life, you see. I am up early, gone through the day and working on other things at night (like having a life or, you know, watching people sing karaoke on television). I travel quite a bit and run a lot and this just doesn't all fit perfectly with owning a dog who, if she could speak, would take every chance to remind me she was royalty in her previous life. So that walk in the evening, those visits to Grandma's and the hallway fetch we play every morning just don't ever seem to be enough, for me. For her, well, I think she's fine. All she ever seems to really care about is that I fill the bowls and that she gets to plant her butt next to me on the couch, no matter who else may be there.

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I think of all this now, though, because it has been five years since I scooped up that 5.2 pounds of mess and never looked back. Five years of walks and wintertime foot warming and food experimentation and barking at things that NO ONE ELSE CAN SEE (her, not me- mostly). When I realized this today, and being the perpetual realist I am, I began thinking about her age, and how long dogs like her live. Average: ten years. I know, I'm depressing, but barring anything out of the natural order, I couldn't help but realize we are likely halfway through this thing.

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I immediately understand now how a pet can mark your life. She lived with me in my first apartment, when I ate Ramen and her "specialty" food cost six dollars a pound. She's driven with me across the state and the country. She's seen my friends (some closer than others) come and go. She's been there when I've been too sick to get out of bed to feed her and when I've been so happy I pick her up and spin her around like the doll of a seven-year-old. She's the only one I make up songs for and the only one with whom I speak Spanish on a regular basis. She's seen me with my heart broken, at the end of the day after my very first "real world" job, and sat with me through a snow storm power outage.

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And true, I know she is a dog. She is my buddy and my pal and awful cute but still, a dog. I do not love her like I love many people. But I do love her. How can I not? She is a part of who I am and reminds me of things about myself I'd otherwise forget. And like any good ally, she is too important to ever toss aside. She knows far too much.

You Will Be Amazed to Know All This

So Bre, in all her coolness, allowed me to pretty much tag myself with this looks like a meme but has all the emotion and feel of an interview, type thing.

She asks me five questions, I answer. You'll see more details at the end. It should also be noted that I worked twelve hours yesterday, ran five miles and then ate a ginormous dinner and had some homemade rum (stories and/or photos to come later but as a preview, there is a reason that stuff is sometimes called FIRE WATER). I have also not had enough sleep.

Anyway.


1. What do you wish everyone else knew about runners?
That we come in all shapes, sizes and abilities, that we don't mind stinking and that running is a part of who we are as much as our legs themselves. Also, a marathon is 26.2 miles. All marathons*.

2. Has having your nephew visit made your biological clock start to tick?
You know, I thought it might but then my sister turned into some kind of Colorado socialite where she'd go live it up like a rock star having high tea and going to see chick flicks and those nights I spent up babysitting pretty much made my eggs stop, go into a holding pattern and take a breather. They're on a chaise lounge somewhere, sitting still and waiting another five or so years, I think. Nonetheless, I would go to the moon and back for that kid, no question.

3. What is your shopping kryptonite - that is ... what can you never quite resist?
Good travel deals, just about everything in the running store, flip flops and chai tea. I don't know as any of that "counts" as shopping but my bank account probably thinks so.

4. Are you crafty/handy around the house? If so... how?
When I bought my place and moved in, I did a lot of work on it. I spent two months painting, flooring, hanging window coverings and putting $&%! together. I thought it was fun, then I got over it. Now, I'd probably either hire someone or just live with things the way they are. However, I can fix a toilet like nobodies business which probably has a lot more to do with genetics than actual skill.

5. What has blogging done for you?
Probably more than I can say. Which is a cheesy, cop out of an answer but it's true. There are so many things I've learned from this entire process, I don't know where to begin. On any given day, I rarely know what's going to come out here and yet, I always have something. I think I just have a lot of words in me. I don't think I'll ever be totally convinced they actually belong anywhere. And probably more than that, I like reading the words of others. Even if this blog ended, I'd still be wholeheartedly addicted to everyone else's.

Thanks, Bre. You rock.

And now, here's the rest of the deal, if you're so inclined to play along:

• Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me!"
• I will respond by e-mailing you five questions. I get to pick them, and you have to answer them all. (Don't forget to leave me your email.)
• You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
• You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
• When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

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*Unless it's an ultra marathon, in which case it's more than 26.2 miles.

Me: 101

Well, I am finally doing it. I've been encouraged by a lot of you and your "100 things" and really, I didn't think I could do it and we all know how I love to prove myself wrong.

Here are my one hundred things, for no particular reason or occasion. In no particular order.

1. I make up recipes as I go along. Often.
2. I let my dog sleep in the bed on cold nights.
3. I am not into diamonds.
4. I am into beaches.
5. My superficial yet totally possible idea of Heaven consists of a buffet full of foods adorned with bacon.
6. I drink Arnold Palmers in the summertime. Sometimes at golf courses. I don't golf.
7. I consider myself to be deeply spiritual, even if I don't talk about it all the time.
8. An early October football game is about as much fun as anything I can think of. Especially if you tailgate.
9. Sometimes I want to go where no one knows me.
10. Sometimes I want to go where everyone knows me.

11. When I'm in the mood, I love talking on the phone. I'm afraid this bores people.
12. I want to eat ice cream for breakfast most days. I never have.
13. I send too many emails.
14. I just learned how to text message three days ago. I'm afraid to admit how much I love it.
15. I wish I were good enough a runner to compete. I just want to see how that speed feels.
16. I want better abs.
17. I've always liked my non-saggy rear.
18. My dog is the cutest dog I know.
19. No one has ever made me a mixed tape.
20. Tulips are my favorite flower. But I adore lilacs, too.

21. I'm afraid of never getting to fall in love again.
22. I would choose an apple over any other fruit.
23. I was born October 23, 1979.
24. I am not afraid of getting older.
25. I sweat like a beast when I run. But I sort of like being covered in salt at the end.
26. I think my hips are too wide.
27. I worked at a veterinary clinic for 5 years. That has been one of the best educations of my life.
28. I like to bake cookies on cold winter days.
29. I am an awful snowboarder. Awful.
30. I am not easily bought.

31. I love chai tea enough to marry it.
32. I could listen to "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" any time of year.
33. I have been known to quote Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. As recently as yesterday.
34. I want to read more books.
35. I want to learn to play the piano. Still.
36. I do not believe I am at all photogenic. I hate the sight and sound of myself on video even more.
37. I used to practice dancing with my mom. She was the first person to teach me to two-step. I have since faked not knowing how for a date. It was cute, I think.
38. I think when you feel something, you should say it. Especially if it's a nice thing about someone else.
39. I have broken up about as equally as I've been broken up with.

40. Though I'm not sure I'll ever have kids, sometimes I imagine myself pregnant.
41. I am jealous of people with immaculate houses.
42. I stare at people I think are beautiful.
43. I am a lightweight when it comes to drinking alcohol. I prefer to call it cheap date- but not in the scandalous sense.
44. I admire happy women. Mostly because there is strength in finding that happiness.
45. I have been known to get excited about good socks.
46. My feet are like ice cubes in bed.
47. I am almost always cold.
48. I don't like lipstick. Lip gloss is cool, though.
49. I like planting flowers. I had a job once where I was paid to do this. It was sweet!

50. I want to fall asleep in front of a campfire more often than I have in the past.
51. I wish salad tasted the same as cheeseburgers.
52. I make a great stuffed salmon.
52. I wish my hair had more natural wave.
53. My mom makes me proud.
54. I hate cleaning the bathroom. Should I ever get married, and my husband cleans the bathroom, I will feel like the luckiest woman on Earth.
55. I adore vacuuming.
56. I talk to dogs I see when I'm out on a run. I also wave to all other runners, even if they don't.
57. I once slid on sand while riding my bike and nearly wet my pants. I wish I were kidding.
58. I have been known to wake myself up while talking in my sleep.
59. I have shoplifted. From the drugstore, when I was a kid. I still feel guilty.

60. I used to babysit a lot as a teenager. Once, I was having a bad day and was extra mean to a little girl for being a brat. I still feel guilty about this, too. I sometimes use incidents like this to explain to myself why I'm single. Karma, or something.
61. I realize how ridiculous that may sound.
62. I lived on ramen, oatmeal and orange juice for eight weeks in college once. I guess there was also beer.
63. If I could close my eyes and wind up anywhere, I'd be sitting on the bow of a boat in the Caribbean. Ten minutes of that every morning might solve every problem I believe I have.
64. I cannot stand smoking.
65. I do not like chocolate. At all. None of it.
66. I like surprises.
67. I can't wait for the rest of my life.
68. I like cats, but I don't think I'll ever own one again.
69. I want to paint my house, especially the bathroom.

70. I took Spanish for six years. I can successfully find a taxi, the bathroom and beer when in Mexico.
71. I am super good at the first round of Jeopardy. The second knocks me right back into my place.
72. I feel like, on any given day, my life is about 85% of exactly what I want.
73. I wish I could ride in clip less pedals with a little more grace.
74. I have a conch shell in my house. They are good luck. It was a gift from my mother.
75. I notice teeth before almost anything else when meeting someone.
76. I think I'd make a terrible waitress.
77. I think I'd make an excellent bartender.
78. I think kindness is sexy.
79. A few of my favorite songs are: Come Monday, You Don't Know Me, and Moon River. I realize this dates me more than it ought to. I don't care.

80. I'd like to own a '56 Corvette. I wrote my senior thesis on the Corvette.
81. My name has been published in three books.
82. I graduated Cum Laude. No one has ever asked me about this, even once. I'm convinced it was only ever about the yellow rope around your neck at graduation.
83. I have to drink watered down Gatorade when I run. The sugar will otherwise cause one of two things, neither at all pleasant.
84. Puppies and babies make me tear up.
85. I can sleep anywhere.
86. One of my proudest moments in life was buying my first house. I have outgrown it in less than four years.
87. My sister is one of the best people I will ever know.
88. My grandmother is one of the best people anyone will ever know.
89. I like music more than any television show I've ever seen.

90. I rarely watch the local news.
91. I love hockey.
92. I want to wear flip flops every day.
93. Except for the days I wear boots.
94. I am afraid of getting car jacked. Almost irrationally.
95. I sometimes slack at work. I feel guilty later and end up working more.
96. I'd like to be a stronger swimmer.
97. I sometimes get upset when someone doesn't return my email within a day.
98. I used to be overly concerned with underwear matching clothes. Now I'm just excited when the laundry is clean.
99. I have had stitches four times. Three of those in my head.
100. I remember the names of every teacher I've ever had. No one has ever asked me about this, either.
101. I like to push things further than I need to.