A Ticket Out

This evening I spent about three hours studying at a neighborhood coffee shop. I haven't studied in a long while so when I started a couple weeks ago I knew eventually I'd have to get out of the house to do it. There are just too many distractions at home.

It was nice and quiet at the coffee shop. The music was at just the right volume to not interfere (I was one of those kids that had to do homework with the radio or T.V. in the background) and the people working brought me water twice when they noticed my tea was gone. It was really a perfect environment to maybe, just maybe, start to remember math I learned ten years ago.

One of the employees walked by me just as I was engrossed in a word problem. Yes, the dreaded word problem: "Jim can buy five apples and two oranges or three oranges, one apple and four bananas for the same price. How much are the apples?" Huh? So as I tried to remember why I cared about the price of apples, this employee approached me. She looked about my age but seemed to have twice the energy when she spoke.

"Sorry to bother you... I just wondered what you were studying."

I lifted up my book for her to see the title.

"Oh, what's that for?"

"Grad school, entrance exam."

"Oh, wow. That's some hard crap, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I'm not exactly loving it."

"That's why I'm so glad I'm getting married."

"Wha? Why?"

"Then I won't have to deal with any of that."

"Oh, I see." And I looked back down at my book as fast as I could.

Did I hear her? Do married people not have to do math? Is this some secret that only the marrieds know? Dang. Never in a million years could math been my thing so if I'd have known that, I would have signed up to get married years ago. Like when I was eight.

But I'm pretty sure I know married people that do math so that can't be it.

Rather, I think this young girl has ideas about marriage quite different than my own. Of all the opportunities I believe marriage can present, not once have I thought about it as my ticket out. I've never thought of marriage as a solution to life's problems. A cushion at times, but never a free pass on challenge or adversity.

Already, she's put limits on herself and her marriage. It's as though she already believes that being married is a plan that cannot include some things. She believes it's going to save her from things she doesn't want to do or doesn't like. I know I'm not married, but I'm pretty sure life's likes and dislikes present themselves the same way they always did. I'm pretty sure, vows or not, that there will be hard days and troubles. It's not some carefree amusement park ride sheltered from outside forces. I'm a little sad for her.

I'm also reassured, though. I mean, married people can get out of a lot of things just by being married. Taxes, certain living expenses, and blind dates, just to name a few. But, if they want to take a grad school entrance exam, even they cannot get out of math.

Except for that part about the boat

A friend and I were talking about this song we'd both heard recently. I believe it's called Size Matters. It's about a girl (you know, the nameless, faceless dreamer from most every song) that wants a lot of things in life. Someday.

She wants a big house, a nice car, a huge bank account and even a boat.

Right now though, she just wants a man. A man with a "big ol' smile," "big ol' heart," etc. "Size matters," get it? Nothing materialistic, of course. Generally, I agree with every part of this song, as did my friend and probably many other women. We've had our share of jerks and boring guys and all we really want is to laugh with and feel loved by our partner. Everything else may or may not come later.

Over the weekend, I was lucky enough to spend some time out on the lake.

A day of sun, sailing, beer and music is really my idea of a good time.

And I have to say, while that love and laughter thing is definitely on the To-Do list, I'm not sure I'd be jumping at the chance to trade in a boat for it. I mean, the boat is pretty much guaranteed fun. But maybe someday, as the song says.

For now, I'm going to not-so-secretly hope that there would be some kind of compromise and I could have both.

Further proof dogs will eventually take after their owners if they spend enough time together

She may not be able to "stay" but at least she can choose a good wine.

Treadmill Schmeadmill

It's winter in Colorado! Haven't you heard? Oh yes, we have grey clouds and sleet and cold to spare!

So, not wanting to catch pneumonia- which, turns out, is not a disease invented by my mother so I'd wear a coat- I ran on the treadmill today. B-O-R-I-N-G is really the only way I can describe this activity. I set out for a good five miler with some intervals and up until about four minutes in, I was feeling pretty good. I had that I'm-a-runner-and-nothing-can-stop-me attitude. But then something did stop me: boredom.

In four minutes I had flipped through twelve different songs, watched everything on the six televisions I could see from where I was and talked to both people running on either side of me, twice.

So, I decided that it was Let's Make A Deal time in JustRun world. This is a little game I play when I'm running where I start to make deals in my own mind so that I can finish a run. Sometimes, they are simple like "get to the end of the block and then you can turn around." Other times, on the really hard days like today, they're more complicated. I begin equating the completion of a run with totally unrelated events or tasks in my life. Today went something like this: "if you get through this run, you will complete the project you've been working on tomorrow... if you get through this run, you will have no problem finding your way around the new city you'll be visiting in two weeks... if you get through the next mile, your dog will finally learn the word 'sit' does not mean 'run circles around me and bark'" and on and on it went.

Obviously, this is a distraction I use to get my mind off what I'm doing. It's a distraction driven to the extreme by the monotony of a treadmill. But what if that were really how things worked? What if events totally unrelated to one another became the determining factors in our lives? What actions depend on other actions? And I realized I already knew this because this is how it works.

There are no accidents. Gritting through a treadmill run may not mean I'm going to be better at work or at finding directions or making the dog listen to me but it does mean something. It means that though it may not be obvious right now, there is a reason for the miles I'm running. I'll be better for having run them; stronger in body and mind.

And so now I know the reason for the treadmill. It keeps going and going as long as you'll let it. More speed can be added and you can adjust the incline but it just continues to turn under your feet. And you get through it. Not for the accomplishment of today's five miles, but because it's leading to all the miles after.

What I Hate About Twelve Hour Days

Twelve hour day. Those are some bad words right there. Four hour meeting. Even worse.

It's days like these that the little nagging voice in the back of my mind starts to scream "You are not meant to work in an office forever!" At which point, of course, I scream back "I KNOW!" The thing is, right now I like this work. It's challenging, it pays me well and I work with some fantastic people. The other thing is, I don't know what else I should be doing right this second so I do the best I can right here. That's the kind of thinking that comes of a twelve hour work day. Deep, right?

The length isn't really what I hate about the long days anyway. What I hate about the long days is that when it comes to an end, no one knows it but me. No one is sitting here at home or on the other end of the phone for me to tell that my long, ridiculous day is finally over. Sure, friends and family are often there but it is just not the same. I want to pick up the phone and call the person that is designated to me at the end of my twelve hour day.

It's magnified when you get home, too. Instead of changing your focus to someone else, you're still thinking about you. Your work, your day and your thoughts are the only things that get to occupy your time. Yes, I have plenty of thoughts about running and volunteer work and writing that take my mind off me but again, it's not the same. There are days that so much is on my mind I want to just be able to forget about every bit of it by focusing on someone else. Whether they have good news or bad news or no news, I just want to hear it. I want the perspective you can only get from putting yourself aside and being part of someone else's life.

As someone who tends to bounce around a lot I've finally figured out that what I'm really doing is trying to find that place that is a balance of comfort and freedom. There have been moments that come close but to say that they're ideal would be a lie. I know that traveling and working my butt off and keeping up with an impossible schedule are merely pieces of a place that I hope to someday be. There have been times when I honestly felt like I was almost there. But almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, right?

I know my life is good. I know a twelve hour workday is something for which to be thankful. I know I'm blessed and damn lucky. So when I say that something is missing, I don't say it in spite of all that I have. I say it because of all that I have. I won't shed tears over this feeling and it won't depress me into a pint of cookies-n-cream but I can't deny that it's on my mind.

If there's anything to learn from a twelve hour day it's that there are twelve other hours in the day in which you have to live the rest of your life. I just have to ramble on until I'm okay with the fact that I'm not in control of this... or plan a quick vacation to the beach, which I'm going to do right now.

UPDATE: Trip planned. Thank goodness I can control something.

No Good Deed

I headed out for a six miler today. Weather was beautiful, I'd left work a whole half hour early and I felt good. The running gods, however, see days like this as a challenge.

The first mile went well. I was still a little stiff from a five mile race I did on Sunday but that seemed to get better with every stride. As I came around a corner heading into mile two, I saw a flash of white. A bird? A plane? No, a dog. This little fluffy shi-tzu (yes, shi-tzu) comes running up to me wagging his tail. So I stopped, looked around for an owner, saw nothing and looked down at the little thing. He just stood there, collar but no tag, wagging and waiting. I couldn't leave him. Thoughts of my little beast being passed up crossed my mind. So, I coax him up to my legs and try to pick him up. He jumps into my arms as if he'd done it a hundred times before and off we are into the neighborhood to look for an owner.

Thankfully, this search didn't last long as I came upon a neighbor who didn't own the dog but knew where he belonged. He offered to take him until the owners got home and I trusted that he was honest and not the Mile High City Dog-napper or something like that. So back to the run.

I tried to pick things up where I'd left off but I was distracted and out of the rhythm I'd settled into before. I kept going but missed the turn I'd planned on taking and ended up going up a huge hill instead. And then another. And then another. Okay, just a hill workout, I told myself. My calves were pissed, to say the least and I still had 3 miles to go.

Still, I kept going. I ran past what used to be an open space and saw they've started to build condos there (because we need more, obviously) and in case there was a chance at missing the construction, a few non-English speaking men decided to yell something out at me. I had The Stones playing in the iPod so I couldn't exactly hear them. If I had to guess though, it was probably words to the effect of "Hey, hot stuff! Where did you get those killer calves?" But that's just a guess.

So on I carried on to mile five still unsure if I was ever going to actually start feeling good. I was running and I wasn't in pain and my heartrate was steady but I felt bad. It's possible there was a seven ton plow attached to a large chain which had been placed around my waist and I was now turning the fields in the middle of July in blinding sun with no water. I shall now proclaim the new running nickname of "Tractor."

As I finally made it to mile six, I passed two little girls playing in their front yard. I saw they were eating cookies and drinking Coke -their mother, no doubt, is a woman that doesn't mind complete criticism, judgment and ridicule from others- and I was jealous. Part of me wanted to stop for cookies and Coke. And I wanted to tell them to give up the cookies and the Coke now or they'd regret it but I didn't. I just kept running deciding it was not my responsibility to teach them that lesson. They would learn it in college or soon after when their metabolism changes and their jeans don't fit anymore, just like the rest of us.

About two minutes before I would have reached my doorstep, I somehow managed to step in a hole and come mere inches from leaving half of me on the sidewalk. I can now go confidently into my audition for Extreme Running Idiots. Check local listings.

I'd had enough so I walked the rest of the way home. Maybe I should have just left that dog alone.

Sinking

I can honestly recall when I figured out what it was. Though not old enough to understand, I knew it was there. There was something about it that just wasn't right. It was just an element of life for some yet for others, overpowering. Some have a love or adoration for it while others have an addiction.

It makes me uncomfortable. It makes me angry. It makes me sad.

I can remember the first time I saw him drunk. I remember the way he stumbled and raised his voice at inappropriate times. I remember the way some people tried to run to his rescue while the rest simply turned away. He thought he was fine, as always. We sat through Christmas dinner, trying to say and do the right things. Like any beast, it was better to appease it than cause a stir. Some family members remember this day as a "bad day" and some probably don't remember it at all. For me, it's the day I started tracking what would be the deterioration of a man, an alcoholic, my uncle. My mother's brother. My grandmother's son.

The hardest part of looking back at that time is knowing it didn't have to be. He was friendly, smart and fun. He was the exciting uncle with the nice car that everyone wanted to hang out with. Successful in his field of work and financially comfortable, he had it all. He had the support of a family, the love of a woman and the energy of youth. But it wasn't enough. He lacked self confidence and the ability to make a decision; the pressure too much, the expectations too high.

The bottle was never a stranger to him but the progression from acquaintance to friend to confidant to lover and finally, to obsession was a fast-moving affair. Once a means of escape became a means of survival. Ironically, it will also be the means to an end. It pains me to watch. I can only imagine it to be like watching the sinking of Titanic. What once was a beautiful vessel full of hope and possibility gradually disappearing into the cold sea of despair, piece by piece. It's what happens when the vessel is unprepared for a change in course. He has no way to cope, no way to rally his crew. They just stand by, in inconsolable panic or hopeless shock.

It is always the bystander that suffers most. The infuriation boils in me when I see what this has done to his mother. Her eternal hope is no match for his need. He has taken her money, her time and her heart over and over again to feed this monster. It is pain no one should have to endure. This is what I hate about it, what I hate about him. I want to scream at him and ask questions and get through to him but I know it's futile. He cannot comprehend my feelings. My goal is not his. I want to protect my grandmother. I want her to have a real, present son. He wants his next drink. It's that simple, even though it's not.

This is also the part I will never completely understand. I'll never know the power of that need. I'll never know the point at which a person must be when the only alternative is to constantly drink yourself into obliteration. How does it begin? What goes through your mind? Is it weakness? Is it pressure? Does it happen in a moment or does in sneak in? And what does that moment feel like?

And, my God, why can't you pull yourself out of it? Why, when everyone around you is so willing to throw out the lifelines, do you turn away? I cannot grasp this, no matter how I try.

So I watch. Unable to help and often, unwilling, I simply do what I can to bolster the others, still so hopeful and entwined. I nod my head, as all good sounding boards do. With them I will cross fingers and say prayers, all the while knowing that I'm really doing it for them. My hope is not lost, just redirected.

Maybe it's because I feel the same about them as they do about him. They'll hold out his lifeline, I'll hold out theirs. Maybe it's because they haven't accepted it. Maybe they never will. Essentially, though, I know the reason for my choice. I know why I cannot remain as steadfast and hopeful as they do. Any opportunity I had to form the foundation of those optimistic bonds and unbreakable lifelines was lost on Christmas day, many years ago.

Saturday in the Park

Between all the busy-ness and business of today, I got to spend a couple hours outside. Everyone keeps posting all these Spring images everywhere so I thought I'd do the same. If not in attempt to savor the season then at least to show off.


This tree is one of the main reasons I bought my house. It's this beautiful about three weeks out of the year and I can see it from the window. Otherwise, it's a mess and not very attractive for the other 49 weeks. You see what I base decisions on now, huh?










The tulips are holding on for a few more days.











And finally, Colorado's attempt at a Palm tree.















I would so not make it if I had to live in the city.

How to Become My Best Friend in Fifteen Seconds

I was standing in the women's restroom today adjusting my belt in front of the mirror. This woman I don't know started chatting with me. I really thought nothing of it.

Until she said this:
(I have to mention this woman is Chinese and speaks with a somewhat heavy accent. It makes it easier to imagine just how adorable her comment was.)

"Why are you looking at yourself in the mirror like that? Don't be so critical."

"Oh, I wasn't. I'm just adjusting my belt."

"Noooo. I can tell you were looking at yourself in a bad way. Don't do that. I would kill for your body. You look so great."

"Huh?" The only reply I could come up with for this tiny little woman.

"You have a wonderful figure. You should show it off."

"Oh, thank you."


At least I've learned how to say thank you for a compliment. What I really wanted to say was "Oh my God, I love you. You're my new favorite person on Earth. Can I buy you things? What do you want? Anything, promise!"

The Purpose Of The Past

"You know what I always liked about you?"

"What's that?"

"That I could count on you in any situation. I could bring you anywhere and introduce you to anyone and I knew you could handle yourself."

"Yeah."

"I knew I didn't have to worry about you saying or doing something that would compromise me or embarrass me. I never worried."


He called me. A blast from the past. Except less blast. I'm not sure why he called, really. He used the excuse of "just wanted to say hi" but that just seems fake. Does anyone seriously just want to say hi? I don't. If I'm curious, I'm curious. Just say it.

But no. Instead we talk for twenty minutes about nothing only for the conversation to lead to us. What once was. Apparently, there are things he misses. Things that he liked. I can't say I'm completely shocked, there are things I miss too. So I reminded him.

"That's good. But that wasn't all there was to it, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. But it was just so easy, wasn't it?"

"What? Bringing me places?"

"Just going places together. I didn't have to hold your hand... you know I'm not a hand-holder."

"I know." And then it hit me. "You're having a problem with someone you're dating, aren't you?"

"Well..."

"Well nothing. You're dating a girl who you makes you worry about being embarrassed or humiliated by something she says. You're afraid you can't leave her to her own devices for fear of your own ego."

"Woah, that's harsh."

"Yeah, but is it true?"

"It's just different, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know. Listen, you have to tell her. Telling me is doing nothing but annoying me. And if I remember right, this is not a new problem. You never confront the person you're having the problem with. You always go elsewhere."

"What?"

"Think about it."

So we spent the next ten minutes in a telephone counseling session going over it before saying goodbye.

"You were always right," he said.

"Not always."

"Well you were always right about me."

Some things happen to take you back and remind you of what once was. Some things happen to simply serve as a reminder of just how far you've come.

Just Picture Them In Their Underwear

Public speaking is the number one fear of people in this country. We're more scared of this than death, snakes, being burglarized or even mugged. In fact, once a student in one of my speech classes actually used the excuse of getting mugged in order to delay his speech. There really was never a way of verifying whether or not he was actually mugged but I will tell you this, if he was sweating and stuttering half as much before being mugged as he was during his speech, no one would have bothered him.

I cannot identify with this fear. I've never really had a problem getting up in front of people to talk. Even when I have to wing it, it's no big deal. Sure, it's taken a while and a lot of practice in order for me to feel comfortable in front of a crowd of strangers but even before I was comfortable, I've never really been afraid. Today it's one of my favorite things to do. Maybe I'm missing something or maybe I'm crazy, I don't know.

I know this isn't normal. I know most people have to really work at getting up just the nerve it takes to stand up, much less use technique and aids to involve your audience. There is a lot of advice on how to do this. People will tell you to use handouts or ask questions or have a gimmick but the truth is, none of this will really make you better. It will get you through the act of speaking and, hopefully, give your audience something to look at but it won't make you better. I have seen just about every technique possible over the years: tossing food into the audience, calling people up on stage, doing a headstand in the middle of a speech and laying on the floor. Though these things get attention, they don't really get the job done if the person using the technique doesn't want to be there.

A lot of us have seen good speakers, I have no doubt. Even more though, we've seen bad ones. Two weeks ago, in fact, I sat through an hour presentation done by a man that could make millions as a hypnotist. Unfortunately, he doesn't realize this and is stuck making only thousands as an auditor. As he droned on and on about numbers and rules I thought "doesn't he know this is boring?" Probably not because it's probably not boring to him. But that doesn't make him good or his material interesting. That's what a lot of people miss when they're speaking in front of people, the audience has a different perspective. You can't just tell them information, you have to sell it to them. If the material is dry, say so. Acknowledge the obvious and the audience will respond.

This brings me to the reason for this entire post. Last night I had to give a presentation that I'd been preparing for over the last couple of weeks. I was presenting something that was both new and complicated for the audience. I had to do it in a way that didn't intimidate anyone and yet still armed them with the information they would need when they walked out of the room. In addition to that, I had to sell them on the idea in the first place. I was prepared. But so were they.

Five minutes into the presentation, the questions started. They were firing them off, left and right. I had all the answers, I think. I made jokes. I made points. I had to shut a few people down a few times. They weren't happy, but I think it turned out well. Seven new contracts were signed which I know means nothing to a reader in this context but trust me, it's BIG. Most of all, it reminded me that no matter how good you think you are or how prepared you might be, there is always a reason to try to be better. And maybe a little afraid.

What? It's still good.

You, there. Standing in the doorway of my cube. Why are you staring?

Is it because I burned the popcorn? Or is it because I'm eating it anyway?

My Windshield on the World, Part 2

Earlier today, someone told me I needed to "get out more."

Yeah, okay.

Photo 1: I almost always take a picture from the airplane window- always on the way home. My way of saying goodbye. I know you can't tell, but there's ocean under them there clouds.
Photo 2: Yes, we are on the opposite side of the road. No, not everyone pays attention to the traffic signals. Yes, every car, even the open Jeeps, had an evergreen air freshener. Pretty sure they're convinced it covers up the smell of all the dope. Didn't have the heart to tell them they're wrong.
Photo 3: I looked like an idiot tourist and got honked at twice while taking this one. Gotta love your home state.

Audrey

Yesterday, I met a little girl named Audrey. Audrey is eleven years old. She has two sisters, one older, one younger. Audrey loves soccer and she is one heck of a player. Audrey does well in school makes friends easily and is an all-around good kid. Audrey has cancer.

When Audrey was diagnosed, just a few short months ago, her entire life changed. No more school, no more soccer. Audrey and her family have been going through what so many families experience when cancer comes knocking- everything else stops. Your life is now doctors, hospitals and waiting. Audrey waits for treatment and for the day she can kick a soccer ball again. Her parents wait for their hearts to stop breaking. Her parent's vigilance is amazing. I am quite certain that after talking with Audrey's father for 10 minutes that I probably met one of the strongest people in this world. Saying this man was a positive thinker is an understatement. He is the true definition of a parent- there is clearly no limit as to what he'll do for his children.

On top of all this, Audrey's insurance provider has decided they can no longer cover her. That's right, an eleven year-old in daily treatment for cancer is no longer covered by insurance. Audrey doesn't know what this means. Her parents are at a loss. Someone had to do something. And someone did. Her soccer coach, and her entire soccer team, in fact. Yesterday over seventy soccer teams of all ages and abilitites came together in a charity soccer tournament hosted in Audrey's honor. All funds, donations and proceeds going to Audrey's treatment.

The people that put this together (in only three weeks) amazed me. They were organized, determined and thoughtful. Games were played from 8:00 in the morning till 8:00 at night. And not once was a score announced. Everyone knew why they were there.

Around noon, Audrey was able to make it to the tournament. She was able to do a lap around the field with her teammates and even kick a ball around a little. Because Audrey is currently in chemotherapy for eight hours a day, five days a week, she has very little "off time." But yesterday, Audrey had some off time. She knows it doesn't come often and, even at her young age, she knows the uncertainty of everything around her. I pray she also knows we are all pulling for her.

Redneck Woman

Things can get a little heavy sometimes. Not to worry though, life has a way of showing you the lighter side when you need it.

I wore a summer skirt to work today. My reasons were because it's summer weather and because I didn't have to iron it (this always being the most important reason to wear anything).

A coworker took notice.

"Oh! A dress!"

"Yep, I'm lazy."

"Lazy? That's not lazy."

"Well, I didn't have to iron this skirt to wear it, so I'm lazy. Simple."

"Oh, so you're one of those redneck girls, huh?"

"Umm, yeah."

"Cool."

My redneck ancestors would be so proud.



Thanks to Gretchen Wilson for singing a song that, apparently, was about me all along.

I Make My Own Mountains

As I came to the top of a hill on my run today and saw this view, I remembered some advice I'd given myself last year when life seemed to be happening at a faster-than-a-speeding-bullet rate like it is now: You don't have to decide everything right now.

Though all those schedules and deadlines might be like that snow on the mountain, life itself is the mountain. It will be there when the snow melts. It will go through another season, looking the same as it always has. It will stand in that same place no matter what the storms may bring. I know life changes but until one's last breath, it's still life. It's still there to be lived and survived and used.

The pressure I'm feeling to make decisions and changes in my life is only coming from me. I can turn it on so easily, it's turning it off that needs work. And I'm working on it. It's going to be a lot easier to get over the mountains and through the storms without the extra weight of over-analysis and doubt.

Sometimes I do need to Just Run

Today was a about 25 degrees cooler than it has been around here lately. That, along with the wind, convinced me it was a good day to hit the treadmill.

I came home to let the dog out and as I was standing on the porch I thought "what kind of runner are you?" So it's 50 degrees, big deal. So it's windy. Is that seriously keeping you inside? What have you become? So I went inside, put on my running clothes and headed out the door.

I'm not going to lie, the first mile was hard. I had to talk myself through it, a lot. But soon I settled into a good pace and before I knew it, I was at the top of the hill I like to call my "Nemesis." I named this particular hill because it seemed that no matter how hard I tried, it always took me 20 minutes from the second I step off my porch to reach the top of this hill. Well, today I reached the top in 18:31. Oh yeah!

That was the end of Mile 2 (and now you know what a slow runner I am). During Mile 3 I passed my buddy, Lance Armstrong. Okay, so obviously it's not really Lance and obviously if I were to see him on the street it would be strange to see him running but I digress. I call this guy "my buddy Lance Armstrong" because, quite simply, the guy looks like Lance Armstrong. And, seeing him (and his killer quads) always makes me want to run faster and better. So I picked it up and soon I was into Mile 4.

During Mile 4 I passed no less than 8 other runners. This is a route in which I normally do not pass one other runner (except Lance) so seeing 8 people getting their butts out like me was encouraging. Especially considering the knee can't seem to make up it's mind as to whether it's actually injured or not. I tried to pay attention to triggers but nothing seemed consistent: It hurt a little stepping up that curb, so maybe it's stepping up. Oh, wait, it didn't hurt on that one. Hmm. It hurt a little stepping down that time, so maybe it's down? Well, Mile 4 was almost all downhill and it didn't hurt at all. Hmm. Ridiculous knee.

Mile 5 passed pretty quickly but by Mile 6 I really started feeling it. I had been going too fast so I slowed down a little and tried to concentrate on just finishing. Just when I thought I should stop and walk, How Bad Do You Want It (Tim McGraw) started blasting through the headphones and I made it home, sprinting.

With all that was going through my crazy little head today, I really needed a run like that.

Too Much To Think About

Life is getting busy again. I can feel it... those stress free Saturdays have gone by the wayside. I look at the calendar and there's something every weekend, every evening. Races, training, weddings, fund-raisers, you name it, it's on the calendar. I don't even have time to think about where I should go until I'm there. I just need a little more time to sort it out.

- Work. It's so busy I finish one project and barely take a breath before I move on to the next.

- Grad school. Do I want to apply? If I do, I need to do it soon. Application deadline is June 1. I'm not ready for the GRE or GMAT at all but I could probably pull it off if I needed to. The thing is, I don't have time to even call and talk to anyone. Why doesn't admissions open at 5:30 a.m.?

- A friend of mine revealed to me over the weekend that if she's not married by the time she's 29 (that's next year) that she's going to look into artificial insemination. She's always wanted kids more than most people want air so I can understand why she's set this deadline but I really don't know what to think. There are so many things I want to ask her like how? and where? but all I can think is no friggin' way would I be willing to take on the responsibility of parenthood by myself. No way. I can't imagine.

- Training. My left knee is entertaining a slight injury. It hurts only from time to time but each time it's enough to freak me out and think "oh my God, I can't run. I'm going to get behind on training and then not be ready for what's coming and then get fat[ter] and slow[er] and oh my God." But, since it doesn't hurt all the time, I just keep going.

- I have another friend that I don't know how to get through to. Her life has come to the point that she's completely out of control. Her marriage. Her family. Her weight. Her attitude. And all I feel like I can do is stand by and watch. I've told her my concerns and that I'm worried about her and all she says is "I know, I know" but never anything more. She's not even willing to admit anything or accept any responsibility. I've never watched a train wreck about to happen but I feel like this is what's coming and someone's tied my hands and gagged me. There's nothing I can say or do to prevent it.

- The house. There are several things I need to do at the house. I have no idea when I'm going to have time to take care of it. If you know anyone in Colorado that can clean carpets, service a central air system, paint a wall, repair a gutter and reseal a window can you please send them my way? I can do pretty much all of that but I only seem to have 7 spare hours in the day and if I don't use them to sleep, then bad things will happen.

- I put on 10 lbs. since last season (race/running season). Yuck. I hate them. I've lost 2 of them so far but it's slow going. I hate that I can spend 6 months getting to where I want to be and in 2 months it can all go to crap. I know, it doesn't help that I eat pie but still, stupid calories. It's so frustrating.

- I want to take piano lessons SO badly. I priced keyboards the other day. Not bad.
But then I think, how am I going to fit that in with training for marathons, grad school, work and volunteering? Ack!

And the worst part is, I can't concentrate on any of it. All I think about is the next time I'll be able to take a break from it all and get away. (It's 5 weeks from now, in case you were wondering.)

Sunny Skies (and Key Lime Pie)

Easter Sunday was absolutely beautiful in so many ways.

First was Easter Sunday service. Of course, the place was packed. I don't talk about religion much around here or anywhere else so I don't have much to say about it but I will say this: I don't think being a "Christmas and Easter" church-goer is bad. If it's the remembrance of the Resurrection that gets you out of the house and believing in something, I really can't see room to criticize there. I feel like there's a shortage of people willing to openly believe in anything so if it's what you do, it is worth something.

With a quick change of clothes, I went with some friends down to the Incline. There's nothing like serious oxygen deprivation and physical pain to help one reflect on Easter service.

After that I headed home to start making what would become the proudest moment of my contributions to Easter dinner. Key Lime Pie. And yes, it warrants capitalization. I've been working for quite some time on perfecting this and though today's wasn't perfect looking, it was perfect tasting. Due to the summer heat we're having in April, the top layer settled a little too much. Next time, I'll have to get it to the fridge faster I guess.

After throwing together some salad and potatoes, I was out the door to grandma's house. The family all packed in and ate. The figures are early but as far as I can tell, I personally ate enough to sink a good-sized ship. Everyone else seemed to have done the same so we decided to go for a walk to the park up the road. This is not normally something the entire family would do but I think a thread common to each and every one of us is to never waste a beautiful day by sitting inside. We had a great time at the park. Playground swings hurt my butt a lot worse than they used to. Apparently, they're made for small children. The merry-go-round is also not a good idea after any holiday dinner. Still, there were moments from this day that will remain with me forever. They're the moments you make on purpose so that when you're somewhere alone and far from home, you have something in your heart that bridges every distance and fills every empty space.

An hour later we headed home from the park ready for dessert. I am more than proud to say that, thanks to me, my entire family is currently in a Key Lime Pie-induced food coma. It really was that good.

As the sun headed West, we packed up left-overs, said our goodbyes and hit the road. For whatever reason, I drove right past the left turn that would take me home and decided to cruise around the hometown for a while. The sun was starting to set, it was 70 degrees, the windows were down and James Taylor* was in the CD player. Ignoring the ridiculous number that is the price of fuel right now, I just drove around the city, not quite ready to let go of the ordinary beauty of the day.

When I finally made it home, I called the little sister. I miss her so badly on days like this. I want to send her the sun and the food and the feelings from today. She had a good day with her hub and the baby-to-be but I know she wants to be closer. I don't think we'll ever be okay with the distance. We just deal with it as best we can. And she makes me swear on our mother's life that I'll make Key Lime Pie when I visit her next month. Obviously that's not going to be a problem.



*Sunny Skies is a James Taylor song. The song is about a man who is not so sunny. At the end of the song, he wonders "if where I've been is worth the things I've been through." I would have to say yes, but don't miss those sunny skies.

Am I That Transparent?

Tonight I hung out with my mom and baked. Well, I baked and she sat in the kitchen and told me what to do like some kind of kitchen foreman.

Altogether it was two loaves of banana bread and a couple dozen peanut butter cookies. She was going to bring the cookies to work with her and I, the banana bread. As I was leaving, she instructed me on how and when to slice the bread and how large the slices should be because obviously, at 26, the whole knife thing is new to me. Not to mention, division.

"Make sure you let it cool and slice it in half and then make the smaller slices. You can't feed eighteen people on fat slices."

"Okay, boss."

"Love you."

"Love you."

"Night."

"Night."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Thirty minutes later I walk through the door at home and my phone is ringing. The miracle that is caller ID says it's mom.

"Hi, boss."

"Hi. Also, wrap it in tupperware if you've got it. It will stay fresher than foil."

"Gotcha. Okay, love you. Bye."

"You ate some on the way home, didn't you?"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I can hear it in your voice. You couldn't wait. You ate some."

Silence.

"Well, at least you have two loaves."

"Yeah, mom. I'll probably finish at least one tonight. Night."

"Bye, honey."

"Bye."

I hate when my mom is psychic and it involves my inability to resist baked goods.

Everything You Didn't Want to Know (Alternately titled: Don't watch movies about math, drink margaritas and then sit down at the computer)

I watched a movie about math. Well, it was about math and mathematicians. It sort of reminded me of work because they kept talking about how you may not be able to prove something works but sometimes, if you spend the valuable years of your youth at a desk with a pencil and paper, you can prove that it doesn't not work. Doesn't. Not work. Double negatives, blech!

This reminds me of work because often times, in programming and coding and blah blah blah (because I know that's what most people hear when those words are read) there are double negatives all over the place. Not null. Not inactive. "Logic" they say, but it's not logic. Unless, of course, the meaning of logic is actually the opposite of everything you've ever known as logical then yes, it's logic. If you think that's confusing, get this: programming has languages within languages. Styles within styles. Dialects within dialects. That means that every little wild-eyed computer geek can pretty much write code anyway she or he wants to as long as it makes sense to them and spits out the same crap at the end. [Sidebar Disclaimer: By crap I don't really mean crap. I heart programmers.]

For instance, that little button that says "Publish Post" might be obviously called Publish Post to you. You would be logical to think that was it's name. Wrong-O! Remember what I said about logic. Instead of Publish Post, it could actually be called something like "xN11" or "c55" or "Paul." Seriously. To make matters worse, the programmer can then choose her or his own abbreviation for these "names" in order to make it something she or he can remember as they go on to write the "Dynamic Whatever of the Century" or, you know, do their day to day job.

So yeah, this movie about math really got me thinking. About work. While I'm at home. Hate that. Originally, I sat down and read a few other people's blogs and started having deep thoughts and wanted to write about how the world doesn't add up and how we can or cannot prove certain things and how math theory has never been my strong point. Clearly, I did not accomplish this.

But maybe I accomplished something more. I once again proved two things to myself: 1) Work may be confusing but it is SO not boring. 2) Blogging will make it better.

Alternate, alternate title: I really don't know crap about this but most of you either don't know the difference anyway or I lost you at the second paragraph.

I Should Have Named Her "Killer"

Apparently, for the last four years, I've been harboring a vicious beast. With an agenda.

Early this morning, I opened the front door and let my dog out, as I do every morning. There are no fenced yards in this neighborhood so people either use leashes or have voice control over their dogs. Since it's 5:30 a.m. I usually don't have to worry about anyone else being out. I let her out and stand on the porch and watch her while she takes care of business- which often includes carefully sniffing every square inch of grass in the yard. When all is sniffed and done, she trots back inside, inhales her food and hops up on the sofa for her first nap of the day.

This morning, I opened the door and she ran up to it and stopped. I urged her "come on! Go!" and she just looked out the door as if she were about to cross into the Twilight Zone. After a few more moments of contemplation, she looked at me and charged out the door so fast the carpet where she had been was smoldering. As she shot down the steps, ripped across the grass and darted straight into the street I finally saw what the big deal was.

A squirrel.

She's never chased anything before. Unless something's trying to get between her and her next meal, she could care less. As it turns out, she just hasn't been provoked enough. After she came to a stop, she barked at the top of her lungs for a good minute at the squirrel who was now safely up a tree twenty yards away. Finally, after promises of dog treats, I was able to draw her attention away. I grabbed her collar and dragged the snarling sixteen pound attack dog back to the yard. As we walked back she kept looking behind her as if to say "I'll get you. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon."

This will be difficult to understand if you're not a runner

The strange thing about being a runner, for me anyway, is that the novelty never wears off. As much as you try to perfect a routine by eating a certain way or by speedwork or whatever else, there's always going to be those odd days where something just doesn't feel right. Often times, it's these unexpected days that remind runners that they're human.

That said, the novelty does wear off for everyone else. Your friends and family get used to the idea that you run. Though they support you and encourage you, the routine is established for them. They leave you messages that say "oh you're probably out running, call me when you get in" or "If you don't have a race to go to that weekend, I hope you can make it to the wedding." Their idea of you is not you the runner, it's you the person that runs.

Most successful life-long runners get past this. They fit their running into the schedule of life because it's something they have to do. Whether you're trying to stay in shape, keep up with the kids, train for races, blow off steam or maybe all of the above, you have to run. The day is not right without it. This is where the two paths tend to converge, or crash.

Throughout my years of running, I can say that no one except other runners (and possibly an enthusiastic cyclist or two) can understand. They don't see how you prioritize running like they prioritize lunch- except you prioritize lunch too because you're a runner and therefore, you eat a lot. They don't see how it's part of who you are and how you define yourself. A lot of things can cause bad days but for a runner, not getting to run is often at the top of the list.

With as many people as there are that run marathons these days, you'd think this idea would be more wide spread. Still, even with all those millions of runners, only something like .015% of the population participated in a marathon in 2005. That, I suppose, sheds some light on the reason we still get the "crazy" comments when we get up at 4:00 a.m. for a run or save all our vacation days to travel to races. But the numbers are growing and hopefully, the two paths will converge one day and not crash. Hopefully they'll just coexist and maybe even get a few converts over to the "other side." It would really work out well for all us runners if the rest of you could just join us because, after all, we're runners and we really don't want to change.

Who Cares?

For the first time in a while, the person in the mirror took me by surprise this morning. I didn't completely recognize her. Of course, this may have something to do with the fact that I spent all afternoon yesterday drinking on an outdoor patio (we all know what a combination of tequila and sun can do for your looks) but I think it was more than that.

Something has changed other than the shade of pink on my face today. Something's a little different. And as opposed to the past, I don't care that I feel different.

I've always been pretty good at being myself. I don't spend a lot of time defending my choices in clothes, music, etc. Being the only person in the car that knows (and sings) Born to Run doesn't really bother me. When I bought the house that my mother thought was "too much work", I didn't listen. When people scoff at the amount of money I'll spend on traveling, I brush it off. Admittedly though, in the back of my mind, I did care. I didn't need people to like what I was doing or agree with me, but I did care if they didn't. I wanted to know why we disagreed. I wanted minds to change and things to be 'just so', so I could feel better. Though I didn't listen and it wasn't always evident in my actions, I've allowed opinions to be the gauge that determined the direction of my heart and mind.

For some reason, today's the day the universe picked for me to realize: I don't care. I'm glad you're you and I'm me and you have an opinion and I have an opinion and we can find a way to get along. That hasn't changed and I'm thankful for it. I'm not saying I don't respect your opinion or value it. In fact, now more than ever, I need it. Even as I type it, I'm not certain "care" is the right word. I do care about people and things. Sometimes I care so much that I would do anything to make sure it's known. But it doesn't affect my happiness, it can't. That's the part that I have to be alright with. It doesn't mean anything is wrong or that I'm apathetic. It just means I'm completely accepting of something that's mine.

I'll be the first to admit, this isn't a sudden revelation nor is it that profound. Rather, this has been more of a progression. The way it seems now, confident decisions and comfortable decisions are not mutually exclusive and I think the difference is how the decision sits with you when all is said and done. You may like what you did and things are working out great but if somewhere the whisper of another's voice is haunting you and you're feeling guilty or sad or dissatisfied, then you're losing out. It's not worth selling yourself short by not embracing the differences and moving on.

If you did something well and left no one in your wake, there's no reason for apologies. If your favorite music is the soundtracks to old Westerns, no worries. If you want to spend $500 on your cat, do it. If you want to eat ice cream for lunch, go ahead.

Or maybe not. If my pants don't fit, I do care. A little.

It's nice just to be asked*

Every Friday I "allow" myself to stop at Starbucks in the morning. It's a little treat I have at the end of every week. The truth is, if I could justify $25 a week on it, I'd stop every day.

Anyway, the friendly barristas have come to know my routine. I'm often their first customer of the day on Fridays due to my early working hours and it impresses me that every single Friday, they're in a good mood.

"Goooood morning!" They announce, in unison, as if the fact that me walking through the door is reason enough for celebration.

And for the last year and a half that I've kept this routine, a half-asleep "Hi!" is about all I've been able to muster. This morning was no different. So when the friendlier of the two barristas started chatting with me, I thought nothing of it.

"What are you up to for the weekend?"

"Not much. Running, cleaning, eating. You know, the usual. And you?"

"Oh probably just work and a few other things. We have some new coffees, do you want to try some samples?"

"Sure," I agree, because if it's free, it's for me.

"Okay, great!"

The barrista then proceeded to make me samples of six different teas and coffees. Some with milk, some with soy, some with syrup, some without and on and on. I sampled for a good fifteen minutes. All the while the other barrista looking over with raised eyebrows and a smirk on her face. I wondered if this was some conspiracy to send me to work bouncing off the walls, consequently getting me fired and not be able to afford Starbucks any more and therefore, they wouldn't have to deal with me at 5:30 a.m. ever again.

I was wrong.

As I sampled the final drink (Modo Green Tea or something odd like that) I told them thanks and proceeded to leave. As I turned to go, I heard the sample-crazy barrista say "Um...." and trail off.

"Did you say something?"

"Ummm, well, I was wondering..."

Oh geez, what's happening here, I thought. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, well, I just wanted to ask you, ummm.... do you ever go to poetry readings?"

"Oh, no, not really. I've only been to a few."

"Oh, okay. Well, if you ever want to, let me know. Have a good day!" Just as cheerful as ever.

And I looked at the other barrista, smirk still on her face, and said "Okay, ladies, see you later!" And then I just left. It took me until I got to my car to realize that I was pretty sure I'd just almost been asked out, by the Starbucks barrista, who is a woman.

Huh?

I've never been asked out- albeit half-way- by another woman before. Since I'm not a lesbian, perhaps this is not startling information. Nevertheless, I'm a little intrigued. I'm flattered, too. I mean, women in general can be so much more critical than men so if a woman is attracted to me, far be it from me to argue. The thing is, I'm also wondering if I gave out some sort of "vibe" that suggested I may be attracted to her? I would wonder about this with anyone I wasn't attracted to though, so I suppose I should not approach it any differently. I don't want my Starbucks routine to be weird. I really couldn't handle that. It's my normal staple at the end of chaotic weeks, it cannot change. So, I'll just continue with my routine, be friendly and not take any more samples? Will she be offended? Should I worry? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Was she even asking me out in the first place? I mean, I've never mentioned poetry before, so she wouldn't think I'd be interested, would she?

Do I even need to be asking these questions? Maybe it was some school project for her Sociology 101 course and I was a test subject. Yeah, that could be it.

*Also could be Good Thing or Bad Thing: Part 2

So I'm not saving the world, but it's still hard work

Work has been ridiculously busy lately. And it's not going to let up. We're working on a huge project that will go on for several months. I'm really getting into it and learning new things all the time. It's like I have night-before-an-exam brain; there's so much information in my mind, it actually feels full. Really really full.

In the tech world, we like to give everything an acronym or an abbreviation. Instead of saying Database Administrator, we say DBA. Instead of saying Asynchronous Javascript and XML, it's AJAX instead. You get the idea. Today I gave this project it's new official acronym: MOS. Massive Overhaul of Shit. That's what it is. Everything must be brutally scrutinized and analyzed and reviewed. Everything is changing. I've never been involved in something so huge. Granted, we're not changing the world. We're just changing the way thousands of people see it.

As a result of Project MOS, I'm becoming Work Girl. It's scary. Work Girl doesn't have time to clean her house. Work Girl doesn't remember to call her friends. Work Girl eats on the go. She doesn't have time to go to the bathroom, much less go for a run. I feel so guilty, too. I haven't run in two days. Oh, big deal, you might say. But for a runner who also happens to be an anal planner, it's serious.

Just to paint a picture of how my day looked, I'll give you a little play-by-play. Alarm goes off at 5:00 a.m. I sleep till 5:15. I drag my butt out of bed and eventually, out of the house by 6:00 a.m. I get to work at 6:20 (good commute time). I spend the next nine hours in a meeting. No, not meetings, a meeting. Yes, it took 7 adults 9 hours- minus the 13 minutes I spent eating my lunch at my desk while responding to email- to make decisions on Project MOS. I spent about 2 hours after the meeting trying to make sense of our decisions and then send out the notifications that were my responsibility before anyone had a chance to change their mind. You gotta jump on that crap, seriously.

I still felt like a slacker even though I worked my hiney off all day long.

The one thing that did make the day worth all the crap was this note from my boss (one of many (bosses, not notes)):

Great work today. I hope you know how important you are to this project!

But then it was followed by this:

See you at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow. We need to get things in order before the weekend! Thanks!

And then I had chips and salsa and a margarita for dinner. You can't do everything perfect in one day. The world would stop rotating.



Note: I've just read Bre's post for today. Apparently, we were on the same wavelength. Let's hope it doesn't happen again, to either of us.

Boring Old Update

Okay, so it's not really old but it is likely very boring. Nonetheless, I feel the need to update. For some reason, a few visitors around here ask me about things from previous posts. Weird, huh? There's nearly eight of you and some of you find it in your inquisitive little minds to ask me about the past. I find it so odd and yet, totally love it at the same time. I want to go outside and shout "I love blogging. It's finally all about ME!" But that would just be ridiculous, mostly.

So, on to the updating.

One of my first few posts was about the famous Aussie. Due to my instant and complete fascination with his charm, I was able to ignore the fact that he would be out of the country in mere weeks from our first meeting. So, charmed I was for those weeks and now we email and write of the strange way life works and how it doesn't make sense. This sort of sucks but no longer being one hung up on the fairy tale, I sort of just use the emails to fill my need to complain about not being able to control life and love and blah blah blah. I'm such a user.

Another popular topic is this guy. I spent a lot of time trying to get away from thinking about him. I tried drinks and dating others and trips to Vegas. Turns out, though, all I really needed to do was write about it here. It appears as though sharing your current torment on the internet is a cure-all for getting over someone. Who knew? I know, you did.

Possibly the funniest question I've received is: "Did you really not like the movie 'Hitch'?" I had a post that was strategically placed, here. Funny story, actually. You see, I was set up with this guy and I'd put off actually going out with him for a loooooong time. I knew there was something that didn't click but I finally caved and went out with him. A few days later, I think he found my blog though I'm not sure how. (Sidebar: I think he comments under the guise of "Stephen" or, sometimes, "Steven". I know, it's more frightening than I'm willing to admit). Long story short, this post was really about a bad blind date in which I felt, well, cheated.

I think that's about it for the boring-but-still-okay-enough-to-write-about questions. The few others have just been about whether or not I want to buy porn. I don't.

So thanks, visitors, for the time you spend here. I love the comments. I love visiting your sites. I love that I can write decently one day and literally spit out crap every other day and you still validate me. That's good times!

Thanks to all eight of you, more or less. Turns out, eight is enough... ha! Get it?!

1-2-3-4-5-6

On Wednesday, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00
in the morning, the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06.

This will happen a total of 37 times and not again for another hundred years.

It gets me thinking. Am I taking every opportunity to be a part of moments that may never happen again in my lifetime?

Usually, I'm sleeping at 1:02:03 on Wednesday mornings. This time though, maybe I'll wake up and take a minute to remind myself not to "sleep" through anything that I'll only see once.

Or maybe I'll just take that moment now. I'm not Miss Sunshine when I have to wake up in the middle of the night.

WHY?!

I spent all day Saturday with my cousins, five and eight. Both boys and both very smart. They also both have more energy than fifteen puppies on speed. We biked, hiked, walked the dog, played at the park, played basketball, drew pictures and put a puzzle together. I was pretty proud of my ability to entertain them, until I realized it was only noon.

Kids are exhausting, obviously. One of the most tiring qualities of all is the two million questions they have about everything. The most popular is "why?", which comes in many forms. There's "why not?" and "why should I?" And, of course, the ever familiar from my own childhood, "whhhhhhhyyyyyyyy?" followed by stomping and pouting.


The day was filled with these little questions:


Boy of 8: I'm getting bored on these little rocks. Why can't we climb on those bigger rocks?

Me: Because you have to have special equipment to climb those and we don't have any equipment.

Boy of 8: But those people are doing it, why can't we?

Me: Because we don't break the law.

Boy of 8: Dang! Stupid laws!

___________

Me: Get your shoes on.

Boy of 5: Why?

Me: Because we're going outside. Get your shoes on.

Boy of 5: Ummm, hello, you can go outside without shoes. Duh!

Boy of 8: Yeah, there's no law.

Grrrr.

___________

Me: Shoot baskets so I can take your picture.

Boy of 8: Why do you want a picture of it?

Me: So I can remember what a good basketball player you are.

Boy of 8: You won't have to remember when I'm on T.V.

Me: Okay, Jordan, shoot the ball.

Boy of 8: Who's Jordan?

Me: Oh dear God.

___________

Boy of 5: Why can't we listen to the radio?

Me: We can! What kind of music do you like?

Boys in unison: Everything!

Me: Okay, here, listen, this is a good one. It's The Eagles.

Boy of 8: Who are The Eagles?

___________

Boy of 5: Do you have kids?

Me: No.

Boy of 5: I think you do have them.

Me: If I had kids, don't you think you would have met them?

Boy of 5: Maybe you keep them in the closet (hehehe). Do you keep your kids in the closet?

Me: Hmmm, do you think I keep kids in the closet?

Boy of 5: Yes, I bet you do. But why would you put them in the closet?

Me: Because they wouldn't quit asking "Why?"

Boy of 5: Oh.
__________

And that, friends, is a little thing I like to call birth control.

Wish Really Hard

When I was little, I thought getting wishes to come true just took the same effort as everything else you wanted. Wish really hard.

So, when I wanted a new jean jacket or a pair of L.A. Gear, I would just sit, close my eyes as tightly as possible, picture the image of what I wanted and wish for it. I spent hours perfecting this and the fact that it worked once in a while (like when a birthday would roll around) was enough to keep me wishing.

Here I sit tonight after another twelve hour work day and a half-hearted four mile run and all I can think about is whether or not I can wish hard enough to get here:

Ivan's

She's Just Not That Into You

I really wish someone would write this book. Contrary to what many women believe, there are guys out there who will continually attempt to be around you though you are showing absolutely no sign of being into them.

About two months ago I went on a blind date. This guy and I spoke on the phone a couple times and the conversations were pretty good so I wasn't surprised that when we went out, we were actually able to talk. The thing about it was, that's all there was. Sure we had things in common but it wasn't anything extraordinary. No butterflies. No spark. No major first impression.

So, I told him I had a nice time, gave him a hug and said goodbye. He asked if he could call me but it was only regarding some biking stuff I had for him and we didn't really talk about going out again. I was pretty sure he was on the same page- no chemistry. Well, he called. And called. And called some more. At first, I'd talk to him and chat like friends do. Then, I realized we were, in fact, not on the same page. I started saying I was busy and that I didn't think I could make plans any time soon. A sure sign for a guy, right? Wrong. He just waited three weeks and called again. We chatted, I was polite, he asked, again. So, I had to say "No thanks. I just don't see dating in our future." Fine. Blunt. But no, he replies with: "So we just go out as friends. No big deal. I think you're really cool, even if you're just my friend."

So here's what I'm thinking:

1. Cool. Mature guy. Knows how to be friends. Doesn't blow you off. Could lead to many other opportunities in life, like a new mountain biking buddy (which is always good) or,

2. Lame. Pining. Could get annoying. Or even worse.


So, though it's not common and this guy is not likely to spend nights crying over the girl that he can't get, it turns out that men may need a book too.

Because it may be a while before the right book comes along, here are a few sure-fire signs for the guys that a girl is just not that into you:

- She doesn't call you.

- She takes more than two days to return your calls and though she's nice, she's also really short with you.

- She ignores your calls altogether.

- She doesn't laugh at your jokes, even if you have a winning personality.

- Unless she's 16, she's seen Casablanca, she's heard every romantic song in the world, she's read all the poetry and none, none of that is going to "woo" her into your arms. That's the kind of thing that might impress a girl after she already thinks she's into you. That was a little digression but nonetheless, important.

- Last, but hopefully the most obvious of them all, she gives you hints (if not comes right out and says) she's dating someone else.

I assure you, there has never been a single, available woman in the history of the world that will ignore you for three weeks if she likes your attention. If she's available and into you, you will know. If she's doing any or all of the above, man up and move on.

If you want to keep the girl as a friend, tell her so and then leave her alone. If you can manage this, she might even think you're normal and set you up with one of her friends.

Safeguard

I mentioned yesterday how my grandmother always asks me if I've "met anyone interesting lately." I know this is her subtle, nonchalant way of asking me if I'm dating anyone. No matter the current state of affairs, so to speak, I always answer the same: I meet interesting people all the time.

As far as why I always answer the same, I suppose I have a lot of reasons for it. They vary from shallow and lazy to deep and well, deeper. The obvious reason is that no matter how much wine I've had at Thanksgiving dinner, a conversation with my grandmother about my love life is not my idea of fun. The more truthful reason is that I keep this information pretty close to me, no matter who's doing the asking. I guard the information as if only the right combination of time, reassurance and love will be the one thing that will ever allow me to let it go. It's mine, until I decide otherwise.

I sort of know why I do this, I'm careful by nature. I'm doing it to protect them. And I'm doing it to protect me. If I don't tell them what's going on then they can't be disappointed when there's no news to share. Also, if I don't have good news then I won't have bad news, either. But does it make sense?

I'm not trying to turn this into a "love never works for me" kind of thing though, because that's not true. The truth is, love has worked for me. I've had a first crush, a first kiss, and a first love; both as a kid and as an adult. And for what I knew about it at the time, it was pretty good. Break ups aside, I'm alright with it. I've learned and will continue to learn; which really is a good thing most of the time. Knowing this makes it even harder for me to understand why I keep a lot of the details to myself. I'm not bitter about love, I just don't want to talk about it-or anything to do with it. Convincing, right?

Today though, I'm beginning to understand a little more. I'm house-sitting for some family this week and while I was wandering around their house looking for the cat, the hundreds of pictures of their family kept capturing my attention. No matter where I looked, the pictures were everywhere; mom, dad, two boys, one cat, one dog. Then I noticed other things like handmade birthday cards and art work. There were painted rocks: "To Mom, I love you most." There were carved wooden sticks with initials and dates. I stood staring at markings on the wall where the increasing height of the kids was measured and marked for the last eighteen years and it began to sink in.

There was a past and a future all wrapped up in this house. There were wedding pictures of the beginning of this journey and all the moments that followed. There were lives and futures and hearts all wrapped up in this one place. I know these people well and I see them all the time but I would have never guessed that one of my greatest moments with them would be when they weren't even there. I realized the value of that. It's special and precious. It should be protected.

Before now, I thought I wasn't seeing things right or thinking clearly. I considered that it might be wrong for me to not just "put it all out there." Why shouldn't I share? Why shouldn't everyone know? Not now though. Now, it feels right. As long as I don't build a wall, a little safeguard is okay. It's my life, my future and my heart. If there's anything worth a little protecting, it's that.

And blogs were never the same again

Two things that scare me so much I may not be able to sleep tonight:

1. My 80-year-old grandmother reads blogs.

2. She's thinking of starting her own.


It will be a blog all about asking me if I've "met anyone interesting lately", cooking, and Avon.

Hug the kids. Run for the hills. The end is near.

Nothing Special

Sometimes I have such good days doing absolutely nothing. I often think of Mary Tyler Moore on these days because, you know... "who can take a nothing day and make it all seem worthwhile?"

This morning I got to sleep in three whole hours late. It was already warm and sunny (read: above 40 degrees) and before even getting out of bed, I decided which flip flops I'd be wearing today.

I went for a five mile run that felt like two and felt great the entire time. This might have had something to do with the iPod's odd decision to get stuck in the early 90's and only play Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Toad the Wet Sprocket. I know. So my 26 year-old brain started to drift back to my 13ish year-old brain and I think after the third or fourth song, it convinced my body it was thirteen again, too. Which explains the youthful energy and the way I got all flustered when I passed the boys on the running path. Oh no, I forgot, that's been happening since I was thirteen.

I actually got to run errands like a normal person, too. I wasn't some crazy girl running all around downtown trying to fit everything into a lunch hour. It was calm and timed and relaxed. And there were no lines at the bank or the post office; I just breezed in and out. And really, who ever gets to breeze anywhere anymore?

I had a late lunch with a friend and caught up on work, boys and sports bras without having to inhale food as if it was going to be my last meal. On the way back from lunch I took a detour and went by the park. I sat on a bench and read the newspaper for almost an hour, just because I could.

I'm glad to know that even in the chaos of an average life, I haven't forgotten how to revel in the normalcy of it all. Taking time to enjoy days like this reminds me of what's important. It reminds me of what's real.

And then I came home and cleaned dog puke off the carpet. Reality is so refreshing.

Good Thing or Bad Thing: Part 1

Since I so often wonder if certain things that happen in life are a good thing or a bad thing, I'm starting a "Good Thing or Bad Thing?*" post. I'd like to say I'll always have "Good Thing or Bad Thing? Friday" or something like that but honestly, that's too much commitment.

Instead, this is Part 1:

Manager (boss' boss): So you're working early today?

JustRun: Yep, just a little. Have to get some stuff together for Monday.

Manager: Well, I'm glad you're going to get everything done. I see you've worn boots to the office today?

JR: Yep. They're very comfortable.

Manager: So you're getting everything done, in jeans and boots?

JR: Yes, I think I am.

Manager: I should wear my boots to the office. I've never thought of that before.

JR: Yes, you should.

Manager: Cool. We should all wear jeans and boots to the office.

JR: I agree.


Okay, kids. Good thing or bad thing? Or, just very weird thing?


* I just realized this sounds like "Deal or No Deal." But it's not like that. There's only a fraction of the excitement and none of the prize money.

Relatively Cool (and admittedly shallow)

I watched American Idol last night. Not to see who got booted. Not because I'm secretly in love with Simon.
Nope. I watched so I could see Barry Manilow. I'll probably have to get into my love for Barry another time but for now, I'll just say it was a "can't miss" for me.

Anyway, as I watched Barry, I noticed something about him. His hair was darker. And so was Ryan Seacrest's. And recently, so is mine. A few months ago I said goodbye to ten years of highlights and I've often wondered if I made the right decision to go dark. As insignificant as this may seem, it was actually huge for me. As a kid, I always had blonde hair. But as I got into the mid to late teen years, my hair started getting darker. One day, on a trip to L.A., (which I will always blame for the beginning of my never-ending personal appearance criticism problem) I got highlights. For the next ten years, I was always some wonderful shade of blonde. And I loved it.

Late last year though, I decided I'd had enough. I went to the salon and asked for my natural color back. Of course, it was darker than I thought it would be and I've questioned keeping it ever since. It just seems less interesting. Less, well, fun. Oh how cliche, I might puke just from typing that.

Now though, I know it will be okay. If Barry Manilow and Ryan Seacrest can go dark, so can I. And, as an added bonus, this little revelation has made me realize that as long as I continue to measure my style decisions against Barry Manilow and Ryan Seacrest, I will always be doing okay.

As if I weren't cool enough already.

Update: I've been informed that Barry, in fact, does not have dark hair. Apparently, it's just the roots. I stand corrected. But I'm still cool.

Breakfast Bonding

This morning, over thirty people who sit in semi-dark cubes for 8-10 hours per day came together. Jokes were told, pictures of kids were shared, and bacon was eaten. It was breakfast potluck day in our little corner of the IT world.

I've said it before; this is a fantastic job. There are good people here with amazing talents and fantastic personalities. But the nature of our beast is not social. It's functional. We stare at computers. We speak in odd languages. We make things work. But this morning was different. This morning, we were like real, human people. There was barely a trace of the dazed, code-spitting monsters we often turn into come midweek. It was like a little breakfast miracle.

We laughed. We cried. We ate our weight in breakfast burritos.

Snow Will Make You Think

It's late March; flowers want to bloom, birds want to sing, the sun wants to shine. But you're in Colorado, so get your rear out there and clear the snow. The infamous "Last Big One" is upon us.

While out, I got some good thinkin' in:

1. I've been trying to figure out the best way to walk into the office in the morning and say "Sup, beeeyotches?" without looking like a disrespectful moron. Since I don't normally use this phrase any other time, this is especially challenging.

2. I need to break my current addiction to peanut butter cookies. Though they are the most protein-packed cookie, they are also manufactured by the devil, packaged in lard hell and brought to me in bulk by cute little girls in green who tilt their head and smile and say, "It's only tree dollars." Yes, tree, not three- it's more manipulative that way.
On second thought, the green girls may be the devil, too.

3. I need new running shoes but I don't want to go back to my favorite running store because the new guy there always looks at me like he's my stalker and he doesn't want to reveal himself just yet.

4. My neighbor's dog came over and peed all over the sidewalk today. Now the snow on the edge of the sidewalk leading to my door is all bright yellow. I was going to be mad but I've now decided that it might look like a landing strip and maybe the Mother Ship will show up tonight. No, I really don't believe in "Mother Ships." Pirate ships though, I definitely believe in those!

5. Yesterday, a guy wearing shoes like this asked me where the closest Eddie Bauer store was. I haven't been to Eddie Bauer in a while but I'm pretty sure they haven't started stocking those sneaks!

The Time I Met the Girl That Seemed Normal But Turned Out to be a Little... Off*

Explain this to me:

There's this girl and she's usually pretty bright. She's got a respectable education. She owns her own home. She has hobbies and spectacular friends she doesn't deserve. She has a cute dog that won't hump your leg. She hasn't worried about this guy in weeks. She reads (and often understands) classic literature. She is capable of giving complicated presentations and, oddly, she enjoys it. She has a nice family. She runs races up mountains. She's even been known to carry on coherent and intelligent conversations. Imagine that.

So why, when this girl is talking to an adorable man that wants to participate in her charity event this summer does she turn into a complete and utter bumbling idiot?

Answer me that.


*This is the way he'll start the story when he tells jokes about it later.

Heavy Heart

I woke up this morning and checked a few blogs. I learned that the husband of a fellow blogger passed away on Friday night. He [and really, they] had been fighting the battle against Acute lymphocytic leukemia for quite some time. He'd recently come into remission and they were anticipating a life without cancer. Then, it returned. That was about a week ago. Now, he's gone.

I don't want to link to their site, it's not the right time for a parade, small as it may be.

Rather, I want to say how angry I am. How many people does this have to kill? How many people have to lose their child, their fathers, the love of their lives to something that our President wants to cut spending on? How many?

I have no words of consolation. I have no way of expressing how I feel. I have no right, either.

This is why I don't rest in this fight. There's just too much to ignore.

Maybe you'd consider getting involved in the fight against cancer in your own community:

Relay for Life

Making Strides Against Breast Cancer

Talk to Your Legislators

Join the Team In Training

Tell Congress NO to cutting cancer research dollars

Maybe even donate here or here.

I understand people don't always see this disease this way. Maybe you haven't been affected by it. Maybe you have but you don't want to hear about it. This post is not about that. It's not about yellow bracelets or flashy fund-raisers. It's not about the t-shirt I got at the race or the picture with the celebrity spokes-people.

It's about staggering mortality rates. It's about research. It's about a cure.

The people fighting cancer don't get a break. They don't get vacations or happy hours or lazy Sunday afternoons. Cancer doesn't rest. I can't either.

Is It St. Patrick's Day or Is It Me?

Yesterday, the crazy was all around. So much so that it followed me right into today.

This morning I was washing my hands in the restroom and the lady who cleans the office was in there. She had just finished cleaning the counters so when I was finished, I used a paper towel to wipe the counter where I'd washed my hands. I didn't want to un-do all the cleaning she had accomplished.

"No! Do not wipe the counter, please," she shouted.

"Okay. Um, I was just cleaning up the water."

"Don't do that. Don't you know that if you cleaned up everything you messed up around here that I wouldn't have a job?"

"Uh, I guess I didn't think of it that way. I'm sorry."

"Well, you should be. I need this job, you know! I have to buy things."

"I understand. It won't happen again."

"Good. 'Cause I have to buy things and the most important thing is cheese!"

I couldn't resist. "Really? Cheese, huh?"

"Yes, cheese. And cheese is darn expensive!"

"Yes. I guess so."

"Four dollars."

"Wow, " I said. And then I high-tailed it out of crazy land for the fourth time in less than 24 hours.




And a Happy St. Pat's to all! I need beer.

What is up with today?

Freakish things are coming out of the woodwork left and right. Heck, it's not even the woodwork; that would imply they're trying to be subtle. Nothin' subtle about this day. This is real in-your-face freakish.

At noon I walked two blocks to pick up lunch. In those two blocks I was accosted (the approached-and-spoken-to-loudly kind of accosted and the asked-for-sex kind of accosted) twice. In Spanish.

Because I am semi-bilingual, I will semi-translate for you.

The first was an older woman who, apparently, thought I was called Lucy.

"Lucy! I told you to be here at 11:30! Ayyii."

I avoided eye contact and said nothing.

She followed me for about half a block, shouting all the way, "Lucy, you idiot! Do you ever listen?"

It's no wonder the real Lucy ditched her.

The second accosting was at a crosswalk. I was halfway through when a short man in dark glasses bent down in front of me to pick up something off the street. I tried to side step him and right as I thought I'd avoided tripping over his trench coat, he turned to me and raised his eyebrows and looked me up and down.

"What's up, chica? You want to come downtown with me?"

We were already downtown. I don't want to know what "downtown" he meant. I felt the need to shower about seventeen times and consider telecommuting.



I returned from my reinitiation to the city to an email from someone calling himself "Terrence Wilson, Blog Finder." I know I'm new to this game, but I've never heard of Terrence Wilson. I read the email anyway.

Apparently, Terrence and his "associates" want to pay me for my blogging or my writing or something. Heh. Sure.

The following is my response back to Terrence:

Mr. Wilson and Associates,

I have no idea who you are. I'm skeptical that your name is even real. I'm hesitant to even reply to this message. Nonetheless, I will acknowledge your offer politely.

I am not interested. If you've read anything here, you'd know that one, I am very new to blogging, two, I have a career in which I'm quite pleased and three, the only new position I'm even remotely interested in being offered right now is that of Beach Bum.

Unless by "compensate" you meant millions of dollars and by "professional weblog" you meant drinking margaritas in Cabo, allow me to save you any further time and ask you to not proposition me again. I've had enough of that for today.

Cordially,
JustRun

P.S. Just as a tip from one professional to another: You might consider using the name of your company and that of your "associates" when offering out contracts.


This back to reality thing is going swell.

Ahhh, That's Better- And Here's Why

Previously in this space was a story of a trip I took.

It was a story of island magic, wonderful people, learning how to relax, reflection and rum.

I've removed this story to save it for other things. Other times and places than here.

To all of you that were able to share this story with me, thank you. Your comments will remain as a reminder to me to never let that island magic go.

Ahhh, That's Better

Back from the Caribbean and hating every minute of it.

Nothing like 22 degrees F (that's 5 degrees C) to welcome you back from 80 degree days and 70 degree nights.

I have so much to share about my trip. I hope to do that as soon as my mind gets used to the reality that I'm no longer laying on the beach, which may take a while. For now though, I'm just trying to accept the fact that there's no sun today, I can't wear flip flops, and whatever it is I'm drinking doesn't have rum in it.

Trade-In

Every once in a while, a girl should trade in the office shoes for flip flops, her brief case for a beach bag and her power lunch for a pina colada. In a few hours, that's what I'll be doing. And that's the way it should be.

I also won't mind exchanging the last cold winds of Old Man Winter for trade winds. I won't mind trading a trail in the park for a snorkeling trail. And the flannel sheets can be replaced by a hammock. I couldn't be more ready- I've been packed for days!

Even my friends and coworkers are ready for me to leave. Apparently, they don't love my inspired rendition of "No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems" every hour, on the hour. I can't imagine why not.

With that, I'll say farewell. Should I get down there and decide my true calling in life is beach-bumming (which I sort of already know), I will find internet somewhere and give everyone my new Caribbean address and invite you to visit. Promise.

Bon voyage*, my few but precious bloggin' buddies.

*Bon voyage is boat talk; if it's truly paradise, there will be boats.

Inclination

<-- Here's what fun looks like.








During training, about once (maybe twice) a week we'll head down and hit the Manitou Incline.
I could tell you stories about the Incline but there's a lot of history out there about this old rail of 1.1 miles and a 68% grade, so you might want to check it out yourself. Every time I'm dragging myself up this thing, I ask myself "what the hell am I doing" and yet, I go back.

The two most important things to remember about it are: It's technically tresspassing if you're on it and, it will kick your ass.

I'm off to have my ass kicked now.

Tagged

I've never been tagged before so I was a little afraid of doing it right. A blogging meme virgin, if you will. Forever ago I was tagged by the fabulous Bre. I still fear I'm not doing it altogether correct but hopefully it's good enough.



Seven Things To Do Before I Die:
1. Wind surf
2. Run the New York Marathon
3. Live on a boat for more than a week
4. Visit Italy
5. Throw dinner parties (even if they consist of my homemade pizza and beer)
6. Publish writing that isn't about software
7. Return to coaching youth sports

Seven Things I Cannot Do:
1. Not cry at weddings
2. Look at snakes without cringing
3. Listen to music that demeans others
4. Stay out in the cold for too long
5. Go one week without a margarita
6. Throw away my report cards from high school
7. Wait for my nephew to be born

Seven Things That Attract Me to Blogging:
1. "Connecting" with others
2. Identifying with others
3. I'm never bored when I read your blogs
4. It's not work
5. My need for constant communication
6. Sharing
7. Writing practice

Seven Things I Say Most Often:
1. Grrrr
2. Like
3. No way!
4. Please don't make me run today.
5. Please run with me today.
6. Lola! No!
7. Wooohoo

Seven Books I Love:
1. Old Man and the Sea -- by Ernest Hemingway
2. The Greatest Miracle in the World -- by Og Mandino
3. My Sister's Keeper : A Novel -- by Jodi Picoult
4. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings -- by Maya Angelou
5. To Kill a Mockingbird -- by Harper Lee
6. Rabbit's New Rug -- by Marc Tolon Brown, Judy Delton
7. Marley & Me : Life and Love with the World's Worst Dog by John Grogan


Seven Movies/DVDs That I Watch Over and Over Again:
1. Say Anything (because I will always love Lloyd)
2. Casablanca (because I want to go to a gin joint)
3. The Breakfast Club (because detention was never that much fun)
4. Top Gun (because I really do feel the need for speed)
5. Roman Holiday (because who doesn't like a little anonymity?)
6. Pretty Woman (because I was way too young to watch this movie and I still did)
7. Dumb and Dumber (becuase that would SO not fly in Aspen anymore!)


Seven People I Want To Join In:
Because this took me so long to get to, just visit the "All Things Wonderful" section and, I promise, you'll learn a little at every site.


Happy Friday!

My Windshield on the World

Growing up my family always traveled by air.

Sadly, I was deprived of the traditional family road trip.

It's no wonder I jump at the chance to get on the road now. Apparently, I also need to take hundreds of pictures to prove it.