Plants First, Fish Next

...Oh! Hello there!

2011-08-23T08:24:00.000-04:00

That's where I put this thing! I thought it was in the drawer, or maybe on my dresser under the pile of mail... You know, you always find stuff when you're not looking for it. And isn't the summer when stuff gets lost the most? Zipping home from work to grab shorts and flip flops for a drink on the deck, weekends at beaches, bbq's, pools, and parties, wonderful days of playing hookie from work to bask in the sun*...

But now the days are growing shorter (it was actually dark at 8:30 last night... I almost cried), and fall is upon us. I think everyone that's gone through the traditional 12-22+ years of schooling still feels that "back to school" rhythm as September approaches. It's time to shake off those lazy summer days and get back to work. For me, work (my job) becomes increasingly demanding and taxing of my time, my mind, and my emotions.

As ever, I struggle to simplify my life, and as ever, end up mostly failing. I canceled cable and internet to reduce my costs as I acquired a smart phone and spend 9 hours a day, 5 days a week connected to the internet. It's been a good choice for me, but it means I can't sit down with a glass of wine on a Tuesday and sketch out blog posts. I've also been trying to enjoy time outside this summer, between hiking, running, paddling, and the occasional "relaxing." Weddings, parties, and hockey have filled in the gaps, and suddenly the summer is almost gone.

I feel the writing bug has bitten me again, and I look forward to sharing my experiences and thoughts here, but I know September is a bear. Last year I broke into hysterical crying fits almost every week day. I do NOT want to let this job get to me in the same way this year. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to accomplish that. The hardest part is parents yelling at me. I have a hard time giving in to the selfish demands- it ends up running up our budget and/or it's against policy and unfair of me to give one parent more than I give others... but it would be so much EASIER to just let it happen (at first, at least). Just say ANYTHING to get them off the phone. It's times like this I had a good boss- someone I could go to for advice (as I write this I received a call from a parent who is concerned that her student now must walk one block away from her home rather than stand at the corner directly in front of it to get the bus stop- this in an upscale residential neighborhood- the horror). I don't understand why we have this culture of allowing parents to dictate how we spend, or hopefully DON'T spend, taxpayer money.

Already my blood is boiling, and school starts in 7 days. Since bosslady is not a viable resource, any advice on how to stay calm during this tumultuous period? Maybe, not answer the phone?

*I realize that sunbathing, especially for a whitey like me, is generally unhealthy due to cancer blah blah, but the sun shines so rarely in New England that I try to produce all of my Vitamin D during these months and store it like jam for the winter.

Snapshot

2011-06-30T10:39:00.000-04:00

AKA: where I am forced through vague internet social law to post something on this blog and then attempt to force 4 more people to do the same. Out of love, of course.

Heather from Domestically Flawed lovingly tagged me in this little photo post meme thingamabob (god I feel old today).

Go to the fourth folder where you store your pics on your computer (or in picasa in my case)
Pick the fourth photo in the folder
Explain the picture
Tag four people to do the same

Brother Mine reading a Cookie Monster book to me and Blankey circa 1982

I was saving this one for a Blast from the Past post, but since I haven't posted at all in a while... Brother Mine is 3 1/2 years older than me, but it always felt like more when we were growing up. He's very very very smart (too much for his own good sometimes), so he was also moved forward in school. We played together sometimes, but growing up we were never "close" like secret keepers or anything. We bonded a bit as our parents split, but even our differing takes on the divorce kept us separate. I treasure this photo because it was one of the rare and special times that my big brother paid full attention to me, which as a younger sister was all I wanted. We're closer now than we've ever been, yes, with 3,000 miles separating us.

Also, I sucked my thumb until I was 8 and got my first retainer. Do not let your children suck their thumbs. I was at the orthodontist for 8 years until they finally just gave up and said "good enough." Not that my parents didn't try- I was a stubborn child.

Ok, now I have to tag people. If I tag you, don't feel too obligated, though I would love to see a picture post from you. :-) It's out of love, remember. So Josh, Sherpa, Heatherella, and Encarna, get to it!!

Muddy Moose, Nerd Herd, and Other Outdoor Adventures

2011-05-14T13:44:00.000-04:00

May started out grand with the Fergus Cullen Muddy Moose run. I had planned on running the 14 mile loop, but my training just wasn't (isn't) there. I had a BLAST running the 4 mile course, though! The weather was cool, but mild and sunny. There was plenty of mud to go around. When I was hosing off my legs, the race director asked if I had left any mud in the woods. "I tried not to," I replied. Hey, if you can't run fast, run dirty.

Dirt in the Skirt!!!

I also started playing in net for the Nerd Herd. With Face on sabbatical, Capn Mop wanted to keep a lady in net and maintain our winning strategy. It was a big task, but I took it on willingly. Reading, practicing, and only crying once, I prepared to start the season. My Runner painted a fantastic mask just for me, showcasing the Herd logo and my Ferret totems. While I've made rookie mistakes in each game, I've done fairly well. We've won each match so far, and I've made a few saves I'm very proud of. I'm happy to see that I'm improving every time. Learning the new position has reinvigorated my love of the game.

Mask, in process. Intimidating, no?

While Puma ran the Wapack race, and Taps and My Runner ran the trail backwards, Moose, Gazelle and I hiked Temple Mountain out and back. The ski resort on Temple has been closed for 10 years, and it was amazing to see how much had grown up around the downhill trails. The weather was much nicer than anticipated... unfortunately the black flies felt the same. Being unable to stop due to the swarms of bugs, we POWERED up and down the mountain, covering 9 miles and change in 4 hours. We met up with My Runner at a pub in Peterborough and enjoyed our successes.

Brother Mine has come into town recently to visit and to celebrate my mother's graduation & new job. We made plenty of plans to hang, since we see each other so rarely, including a hike in Bear Brook with Brother Mine and my Mother. Both are near the start of their personal fitness journeys, so we did an easy-moderate 4ish mile hike on the cross country trails of the park. Brother Mine and Mom both did really well, and we had a great couple of hours as a family to catch up and have good times.


One Happy Family

This morning My Runner and I had planned a 10+ mile run, but both realized how crappy our training has been recently. We had a great 6 mile run on the local roads and through a bit of Fox Forrest. With Pineland Trail Festival coming up in two weeks, a 5K and 25K looming before me, the motivation to train is finally getting strong.

Lost in the Woods Part 2

2011-04-26T17:55:00.001-04:00

Link to Part 1

The jolt of seeing someone from the "outside world" helps me to finally climb out of my inner emotional hole. I grab a Gu pack for some more calories and hope it helps. Taps is quick, so I had a feeling he'd catch me soon, and he certainly does. He again suggests we work together, and I'm more than happy for the company at this point- anything to keep me from being the crazy crying cussing monster I'd been for the last hour plus.

While I've seen Taps attentive, calm, and thoughtful, that's about as doleful as he gets. He's a positive person with a good amount of energy. Just working together improves my mood. He shares his difficulties with the directions and the map, I share mine with the terrain. We might actually do pretty well together. Too bad I "poo-poo'd" the idea of working as a team at the start. Between the two of us we find book 6 with little issues.

Found in a stone wall near the boundary of Fox Forrest

The relatively easy find lifts my spirits even more. We're headed towards Book 7, the first of the set that Puma hid. The tone of the directions change with the new author and we're struggling a bit. We run into Puma on the way. While it was great to see another face, it was kind of a bummer that we came upon her while she had the book in her hand. It was great to cross another one off the list, though. I might have been feeling better emotionally, but I was starting to get physically tired.

Up, Down, back, forth, that's pretty much what this adventure was like.

And now we're three. We're in the same part of the woods we ran through on Puma's birthday run, and I recognize it. I point out to Taps where he drove his truck onto the now unused Concord End Rd to pick me up the very last time I seriously hurt my ankle. We laugh and laugh about how I always hurt myself. hehe... awww...

The directions have a funny little passage on the way to Book 8:

"There is a crevice in-between two of the boulders that I would take a closer look at. It would make a good hiding spot would it not? Oh well, continue your NE climb..."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Taps wonders. Puma's following us, trying not to lead us where we're supposed to go. I have an idea.... and it's Trail Magic!!

Yum- frosty beers!

My stomach is churning from crying and poor eating, and Taps is playing last-minute anorexic to win his Biggest Looser contest at work (he did, btw, for $230 prize), so we split our beer. We get back on the trail and I'm feeling confident (it could have been the booze talking). Not far along the trail we find Book 8.

Another Jesus book. If you didn't know us you'd think we were religious folks. In reality we got all these from the dump.

We miss the turn from the trail to the unmarked "Ancient" trail and Puma corrects us. I'm glad we didn't waste time, but it's hard to go with someone who knows where they're going. Taps suggests we hang back as she goes ahead, and I'm happy for the break. We study the next few sections of directions. I know we've been on parts of this trail before, but everthing looks different in the winter. We confirm the directions on the map, spending some time ensuring we wouldn't get lost.

We follow the trail with no issues to Book 9, eventually finding it well hidden in the bridge discarded at the side of the stream.

All three of these children could represent my emotional status at some point during this adventure.

Now we came to the "Choose your own adventure" portion of the show. No, really, it's in the directions. We could choose one of three ways to get to Book 10, hidden at the kiosk in a large, recently logged area of the forest. One way had you continue down the trail and meet up with Ridge Trail, following established routes. Another had you backtracking to Concord End Rd. The third and most direct course was to follow the stream back to established trail. We only had one book left, and we were both eager to get it and finish. We chose to follow the stream until it met with the run-able trails/roads. Following the stream WAS direct, but it was challenging- again post-holing through snow covered tree fall and rocks.

It was great to run again once we got to Concord End Road. I didn't care that my feet were wet- I could smell the finish and we were covering ground faster at the end of this run then we had all day. We were able to run all the way to the kiosk in Oak Lot, passing Puma along the way who had taken a different route, where the final book was hidden beneath a rock.

I barely looked at the title- just tore it out and stuffed it in my pack. I was ready to be done.

I look at Taps- there's no way we're bushwhacking through the woods. We both want to run. We again chose a runnable path back to Puma's- about a mile of path, old road, and country dirt road. I was huffing and puffing by the end, but I wanted to be DONE. I was euphoric and emotionally drained. 10 minutes after finding Book 10 we were running into Puma's driveway to the sound of cheerful cowbells.

My triumphant "I'm not lost in the fucking woods anymore" finish with Taps by my side

4 Leaf had finished almost an hour before us. Puma was maybe 10 minutes behind us. Moose and Gazelle about 45 minutes behind her. The usual post-adventure post-mortem occurs- everyone enjoying the warm sun, sharing when they got lost, their struggles and triumphs. I try not to relay how crazy I was, the ultimate lows of my adventure, but I couldn't muster a lie either. I held it together...

Until... stubbed my toe and foot. I went inside I cried trying to get it all out. 4-Leaf had put a lot into organizing this adventure and I was trying not to let him know how traumatized I was by all of it. And I was ashamed that I was being childish. I cleaned up and went back outside to gather my stuff and clean up. Then my loving runner had to go and ask if I was ok. I couldn't keep the crazy girl from the middle of the woods out of my voice, so my general, "Yeah, I'm just great" came out sounding the opposite. As a loving bf would, he followed me as I tried to run away, and urged it out of me. I broke down , told him I hated it all and asked him to never ask me to do this again. He chuckled a bit (I mean, I was ridiculous), hugged me, rubbed my back, and told me it was all ok.

Then he said we were going back out to pick all the books up the next weekend.

My actual scanned map and directions. If you look closely you'll even find where I bit it out of frustration.

In the Moment

2011-04-19T08:41:00.001-04:00

Part 2 will be finished soon- still overcoming a bit of PTSD... In the meantime, take a listen to a few short podcasts from one of my favorite shows, Radiolab.

In the Running
Diane Van Deren is one of the best ultra-runners in the world, and it all started with a seizure. In this short, Diane tells the story on how her disability gave rise to an extraordinary ability.
After listening, part of me wishes I could remove the parts of my brain that created self-doubt, pain, laziness, and followed the passage of time. But since I'd rather not shave my head and have people pick at my brain, I guess I'll have to work to shut those parts down when they're inconvenient.

The Loneliness of the Goalkeeper
Jad and Robert present a piece from across the pond--a piece about soccer they fell in love with when they heard it at the Third Coast festival in Chicago.
I heard this when Radiolab first podcasted it in February. Knowing so many Goalkeepers (for hockey, anyways) it was an exciting look into their perspective on the game. Now that I'm training as one, I re listened to the piece... and I'm still digesting.

And just for giggles- Fred:

Ferrets *love* hockey smell- one of the only scents less tolerable than ferret. :-)

Belleh! Toe beans! Upsidedown Face! It's the cute tri-fecta!

Blast from the Past: Strike a Pose

2011-04-13T08:43:00.000-04:00

"Blast from the Past" is where I share photos from my past that hopefully explain some of my odd behaviors. Or at least illustrate how far I've come in my 30 years.

Always the performer, one can't just stand there for a picture. One must... STRIKE A POSE! I still catch myself doing this today, and most of the time it just comes out half-awkward. But when one fully commits to a pose, it comes out glorious! Perhaps gloriously goofy, but glorious is still there. Below, four fully committed poses:

Brother Mine, Moi, and Mom at the start of my "double thumbs up" phase. At least I come by my posing honestly.

Junior Prom. Nothing like wearing gloves and a top hat to make you COMMIT to the pose.

The sneak attack, or self-photobomb. No one IN the photo needs to know how committed you are...

Or you can commit so much that everyone agrees.... she should be committed...

No drugs or alcohol were harmed in the making of this photo.

Lost in the Woods Part 1

2011-04-12T11:22:00.002-04:00

Fox Scavenger Hunt (or Mini Barkley), April 3rd, 10am

Last year My Runner completed a loop at Barkley, a crazy (even by crazy ultra running standards) race in the wilds of Tennessee. To say it made an impression would be a gross understatement. He didn't come back changed, exactly, but... mentally and emotionally expanded. And inspired.

This year, in honor of this experience, My Runner organized a Mini Barkley (and I mean VERY mini) in Fox Forest. He and Puma gathered about 15 books from the swap shop in Hboro for us to choose from. The three of us divvied up the "hiding" of the books and writing of our directions. Even just hiding my books I knew this was going to be a difficult adventure for me. While I'm somewhat familiar with Fox's trails, I mostly just follow. The whole point of this scavenger hunt was to go OFF trail... bushwack, use a map and a compass to take bearings, follow directions that use landmarks and little else to get you where you're going.

Fox Forest trail & topographical map. The red line is our route.

This blogger challenges female ultra runners to try their hand at conquering the ACTUAL Barkley. The way Kim writes it, I want to raise my running skirt high and give a HELL YEA! Except that I am NOT the one to stand up for this challenge. 4-Leaf and Puma know the woods like crazy. Hell, they've been living in Hboro for 10 years. I was a little intimidated by my task to hide 2 of the 10 books. Then I was a lot intimidated. After a scouting session and a hiding session, I had to be satisfied with what I had done and the directions I wrote. The three of us wrote up our directions, we read them as little as possible to proof-read, and drew up a map, then we put it all aside so we wouldn't have an unfair advantage.

On a sunny and relatively mild April morning we gathered at Puma's house (the forest is LITERALLY across the street) to start our adventures. Gazelle and Moose were playing as a team, and Taps had joined us too. We drew numbers to determine the order we'd leave in, chose our "race" numbers (ie, the page numbers we'd pull from the books to confirm we'd found them- mine was 37 of course) and we were off: 4-Leaf first, then me, then Gazelle and Moose, Taps, and Puma sweeping.

Taps, Gazelle, me, Moose, Puma, 4-Leaf

Since I'd hidden the first two books I was determined to close some of the 5 minute gap between My Runner and I. The woods had other ideas. (BTW- this will be a theme- Leea vs. the Woods) There was a decent amount of snow on the ground and post-holing was not just likely but inevitable. I trotted where the trail had a packed center, then my leg would sink up to my knee and I'd slow down. I was out of breath by the first book, about half a mile in and not far off the trail. I was turning off trail early so those behind me wouldn't follow my tracks in the snow.

Books 1 (Mischeif) and 2 (Titled Love Comes Softly)

Two books in, and now into the unknown- it wasn't long before a setback turned into a meltdown. The second direction for book 3 was to take Gould Pond trail. I've followed this trail at least half a dozen times over the last year and a half. I'd found the trail head and the tree with three blazes. I couldn't find any other blazes or the rest of the trail. I'd wandered up and down the hill for 10, maybe 15 minutes- a long time when we're talking back and forth on about 150 yards of hill. I started crying and swearing- if I can't find an effing trail, how the heck am I supposed to get past the ACTUAL challenges of the course?

I was out of control. I couldn't stop crying. I was panicking. I wasn't lost because I knew where I was, but I didn't know where I was going. The only reason I didn't give up and go home was the shame I felt when imagining others seeing my tear-stained face and only having two books. Somehow, finally, I stumbled upon the trail. I honestly don't remember how I did it, but I looked up and saw one white blaze after another, and wondered how I had missed it.

In hindsight, RIGHT HERE is where I should have thought about eating. For those that know me, my mood and my blood sugar are closely linked. While I don't NEED to have low blood sugar to go over the edge, the edge and I meet much faster if I haven't eaten well. Unfortunately it would be another 30 minutes at least before I made this connection on the trail.

The next section was following a bearing through what My Runner (affectionately, I think) calls The Gauntlet. His trail went straight through a grove of towering red pines filled with young growth pines and pucker brush all between 4' and 6' high. It was like going through those rotating brushes at the car wash, except the brushes were hard and you are soft. Needless to say, my mood did not improve, though my curses had now become varied and quite colorful. I have my theatre training and vast knowledge of Shakespeare to thank. (It's a syphilis joke!!!)

See those trees straight ahead? Yeah, go through those. Not around- through.

After making it through the gauntlet, finding the stone wall (and there's like, literally a thousand stone walls in this forest), loosing it, finding it again, I came upon book 3 hidden in the rocks in the middle of a stream. Oh, the stream? Yeah, now I'm wet too. Now is when I think, you know what? I'm back on track, I'm making good time, why do I still hate everything? Oh, I should eat! I, quite literally, inhale a 100 calorie pack of almonds and keep going. Yes, yes, I know that wasn't really enough, but at the time that's all I had the patience for. As I said, I was far gone.

Book 3, Cold as Ice. Had to tape this one back together to scan it.... was a weee bit frustrated...

I made my way up the beside river, trying to find the path with the least amount of snow and therefore the least unseen hazards. The snow was still deep enough to hide rocks, fallen trees, and stumps, so when your leg went through it might go up to your thigh and scrape along a granite boulder on the way. Another stone wall and a bearing West I find book 4 in the nook of a tree with no issues. The rational part of my brain has a stronger grip now, but I'm still swearing it up whenever I post hole or run into a direction that's less than direct. My map is balled up in my hand in frustration, and as much as I tell myself that my attitude is counter-productive, I can't wholly climb out of my downward spiral.

Book 4, The Revelation of John Vol. 2. See how much the food helped? No rage tearing.

I come to Geary's Cemetary and I'm back to a familiar part of the forest. Ooh, more trail, yay! There's still some snow on the trails, but it's generally a bit more packed and the going is easier. I follow Ridge Trail south per the directions. After about 300 yards I see the cursed river I'd been following upstream off-trail... checking the map I see this is NOT the right direction. True, I followed Ridge Trail south, but I'd really needed to follow Ridge Trail SSE as it ran along with Concord End Road.

A few choice curse words later (I don't *really* think those things about your heritage, baby, I swear) and I was back on the trail. A fine section of runnable trail helped perk me up a bit before what I knew was coming- a steep climb straight up a hill- no trail, just a bearing and a prayer. My compass chose this moment to be the shit and not give an accurate reading- it was showing just about every way was north. Looking at the map and directions, the book was pretty much at the summit of the hill. Eff it, I just started climbing. I'd either find it or curse and cry more.

The climb was a bit theraputic. The cursing was, well, cursory at best. I wasn't teetering on the edge of tears- more strolling along the banks of the possibility of crying. I found book 5 easier than I would have thought at the top of a Triforce of boulders.

Book 5, Touch the Horizon. Appropriate for the climb, I would say.

I took my next bearing, only now discovering that (herp derp) my compass *couldn't* give an accurate reading that close to the magnetic clip on my water pack. ::sigh:: Well, at least now the curses were directed at mysel- GASP!

"Hellooo!" I heard through the woods. Good thing I'd cried all my moisture out or I would have pee'd my pants. After an hour plus alone in the woods with only the trees and squirrels to hear my tantrum, Taps was waving at me through the trees. "Is the book over here?" He was about 100 yards north of where the book was. I pointed him in the right direction then sped down the hill. I wasn't sure I was ready for civilized company, never mind the unending positivity of Taps.

To Be Continued.....

Manchester Shamrock Shuffle

2011-04-01T08:11:00.002-04:00

Sunday, March 27th
2 mi; 23m 37s

This was the inaugural year for the Shamrock Shuffle, a 2 mile out-and-back race on Elm St. in downtown Manchester set an hour before the St. Patrick's Day Parade. Sponsored by Harpoon, the run had decent swag (hat for the first 500, pint glass for the first 750, and two free Harpoon beers for anyone that registered), and if you were a friend of Harpoon you got $5 off. A 2 mile road race doesn't have a lot of appeal, but $17 for a pint glass and two free beers plus an easy way to hang out with folks certainly increases the appeal.

Team Robert in effect!

So much so that Team Robert had a GREAT turnout! My Runner (aka 4-Leaf) and I, Puma, Moose & Gazelle, Taps, and Kanga, running her first race. Our support crew/fan base was Kanga's hubby and little girl. It was sunny, windy, and cold as a witches tit. We huddled in a sunny spot at Veteran's park waiting for the race to begin, having gotten prime parking right in front of Murphy's Taproom- a favorite tavern and home of the NHSSC.

Myself, Moose, and Gazelle sporting our team colors

As always, the race excitement builds as we crowd towards the starting line. There's almost 1200 people running this short little race, and the crowds along Elm St are cheering fervently (probably to stay warm). It's Kanga's first race, and I'm happy to run with her. Sharing the excitement and trials of ANY race is part of the joy of running with a team. Kanga did AMAZING- running the entire two miles finishing with me and 4-Leaf at 23:41, or an 11:51 minute mile.

Me and Kanga at 1.5 miles

The rest of the team did great as well, with 4-Leaf and Taps bounding back and forth between the team members, sharing their infectious and boundless energy. Puma pushed ahead in the first mile of the run, with Moose catching up to her soon after. Gazelle ran with her Moose, who also had an amazing run completing the entire two miles without a walk break.

Team at Murph's

We retired to Murphy's to celebrate, but with only barstools open, Kanga and her family decided to take this time to visit family in the area. Six of us, hanging at the bar, with our Team Robert shirts on, sharing beers, food, and good times... A good way to end any run.

Blast from the Past: Blond Ambition

2011-03-30T10:30:00.001-04:00

"Blast from the Past" is where I share photos from my past that hopefully explain some of my odd behaviors. Or at least illustrate how far I've come in my 30 years.

Mr. Fixit's son's wedding.

I've been a brunette most of my life, but like all women I enjoy a change and I figure, what's easier to change then your hair? You can perm it, color it, cut it, and if it sucks it'll grow out. So, the summer after my freshman year in college I thought I would go SHORT and BLONDE. I had images of chic pixie-like models in my head with wicked cheek bones and a punky fairy look. As you can see, I am not quite chic, pixie like, or blessed with wicked cheek bones. This was about as feminine as I could get it to look. It did look pretty punk once I started getting roots. But overall I knew this look would not work for me when I only got hit on by girls that summer. Often very cute girls, but still.... not my team.

Smarty, me, and Face as bridesmaids. This is the reception. We all hated the dress. Sorry, C, we still love you.

Since I rarely learn from my mistakes, I decided to go blond again. This time I was living in CT with my cousins and I *knew* it would be different! I would look glamorous! And tan, yeah, maybe that! Why? Because my hair was *long*. Derp. wrong answer. I didn't look hideous, but I did look a bit like a tragic romance novel heroin suffering from consumption.

Dear future self: NEVER FORGET THIS! YOU ARE NOT A BLOND!

Self Limitations- When They're a Good Thing

2011-03-28T16:45:00.000-04:00

Face has recently decided to limit her caffeine intake, which comes primarily through Coca Cola. She loves the damn stuff, and recently confided in me that it's been harder to limit herself to 1 coke a day than it would be to limit her drinking. I'm really proud of her, and while limiting myself to one coke, or soda of any kind, per day would be easy (I probably drink 1-2 a month on average), I balked at the thought of limiting myself to 1 drink a day.

Oh god, I BALKED at limiting my drinking to ONE. DRINK. PER. DAY. That's scary. To be fair, I balk at the idea of MOST limitations, but still... It's not like I drink every day, though if I'm going to be honest and lay the cards on the table, I do drink most days. I don't always drink to intoxication, though, again, 2-3 times a week I will get to between lightly buzzed and drunk. I've equated alcohol with rewards. I've used alcohol to get to sleep at night and to shut my brain up.

I think what I'm saying here is, I like drinking. I haven't considered it out of control because I always felt I was in control. Until I balked at the idea of limitation. Perhaps I'm not as in control as I thought? And we know how I feel about not being in control. (Bad, just in case you forgot.)

So I pledged to Face that, in fidelity with her trial with caffeine, I would limit myself to 1 drink per day. Of course I won't be perfect at this, and of course there will be days that I will have no drinks. Hell, Wednesday I'm going to a wine tasting- STRIKE ONE! But the idea is to regain control and enable discipline over my choices.

Ultimately I'm more comfortable making this about working on my self-discipline that making this about drinking. Similar to my pledges to save, train, and sew, I have declared I will Do Something, and will hopefully achieve it with some amount of success (as long as it's more than the sewing challenge we're in business). In order to increase the likelihood of my success, I've devised a 6 week timeline to the challenge. What happens in 6 weeks? Who knows- have to get there first.

Benefits will include:

Weight loss- 12 oz of decent beer has between 140-250 calories per 12 oz bottle. I don't drink that light crap, so if I have 3 beers we're looking at the equivalent of a large meal. Add an ACTUAL meal, or even more beers, and all of a sudden I'm consuming 150% of my daily caloric requirement. No wonder I still get chub-rub when I run....
Financial savings- Booze certainly hikes up the cost of a restaurant or grocery bill. If I'm consuming less, then I'm spending less, and I have more money. YAY!
Increased health- yay for livers working blah-dee-blah-blah. Probably won't fall down/run into things as much if I'm sober more often. Of course I often fall down/run into things when I sober as a judge, so....
Better decision making- probably won't choose to eat that pizza, drunk that dial, post that poorly spelled facebook message, pick that ill-advised fight, etc. And if I DO make a bad decision, at least I can't squirm out from under the thumb of responsibility by blaming on the a-a-a-a-alcohol.
Probably some other stuff.... hopefully some other stuff.... More booze for the rest of you?

Even listing all these benefits, I know this is going to be tough. I hate admitting that because I don't think I'm a drunk, but I do think I need to take a step back. I'm not advocating teetotaling, and honestly I'd never want to give it up 100%. But I do need to declare my intentions to the public and be held accountable.

HOLD ME ACCOUNTABLE!!!

or just hold me- I'm good with that too. :-)

Growing Up Is Hard to Do

2011-03-26T19:25:00.000-04:00

I made the difficult, if responsible, decision to NOT purchase a new car this spring.

Why? After I put you all through the mind-numbing car research posts? The wishing and hoping? The bitching about my current car? As much as I would like a new car, the security of having no consumer debt and a cushion of savings seems WAY sweeter than being able to hook my mp3 player up directly to my car's sound system and have 10 cup holders.

I looked at my credit card balance the other day and noted that with my current payment schedule I would be payed off in one or two months- right on time with the "car" schedule. This frees up $300 or more a month to throw at other debts, savings, or once-a-year expenses (June is registration and inspection month...)

So, as much as I want a new car, none of the vehicles I looked at excited me more than seeing the end of my consumer debt. I'm even excited to amp up my savings! This is such an old-fogey decision, I know, but I'm coming to peace with it.

Of course, now I have to actually SAVE and not spend this money on things like shoes, new clothes, and top-shelf gin. Maybe I'm not growing up as fast as I think.....

I Am a Crafty Girl

2011-03-17T13:36:00.005-04:00

I started a sewing challenge with my girl Teen when she got a sewing machine for Christmas. I, too, have a sewing machine and use it WAY TOO rarely. We wanted to start with an easy but useful project: a pillow.

What's in a pillow? (besides stuffing) It's four seams at the same length with a 90 degree angle and some shite stuffed inside 'till it's comfy. But if you're *making* it, it's gotta look cute and not crafty. I have two pillows that are hand made and look crafty, but maaayyyybeee not so cute.... They were purchased at a free-trade market; the big one is super comfy and the little one is actually a quillo (think Poppel but a pillow/quilt combo) hand made by Amish peoples. And while they're superbly made, they're just not really my style.

I wanted something that went with my mint-green and wicker sectional, was comfy, looked modern, and was cheap. Not as easy as I thought. I used the fabric from an oversized Ikea pillow I purchased at least 6 years ago (white velvet-like fabric). It was slightly stained, and even after a bleach wash looked a little worse for wear, but it was free. I purchased a 15" pillow form from Micheal's with a 50% off coupon for about $6. I deconstructed a skirt with embroidered birds and flowers to appliqué to the pillow only to find that it all looked HORRID together. This is when the project stalled. I had a white velvet case sewn on 3 sides with some stains...

Teen had finished her project after finding some great printed fabrics (Ikea, I think). Her two pillows looked lovely and I was totally jealous. Then stuff happened (like the Luau) and I had to put my sewing machine out of sight, therefor putting it out of mind. I had found a craft website who had dedicated February as Pillow Month. The inspiration was nice, but it's a lot of quilting which is a bit above my project commitment level. I still had my heart set on appliqué, though. I wanted a peacock, or at least a bird, with colors that coordinated but maybe not matched, and perhaps some texture.

Eventually I settled on the cheapest of all fabrics: felt. At 29cents for an 8 1/2"x11" sheet, felt in all colors is cheap and readily available. I also purchased some iron-on fabric adhesive to make my life even easier. I researched modern shaped birds that are, admittedly, ubiquitous. I designed a little birdie based on a few things I saw, put in about an hour or two of work, and my three-seamed square turned in to a pillow before my eyes.

I made it to go with my mint-green couch, but with the paisley-textured felt of the body, it REALLY works with the blue mini-chairs I acquired when Pocket moved to RI.

It feels great to finish this project, and I'm looking forward to the next. I really don't mind if it takes me a month or two to finish it as long as it turns out as nice. :-)

Blast from the Past: Drinking Problem?

2011-03-16T10:30:00.011-04:00

"Blast from the Past" is where I share photos from my past that hopefully explain some of my odd behaviors. Or at least illustrate how far I've come in my 30 years.

Damn my hair is long...

This is me around 10 years old on the co-ed rec soccer team in NJ where I grew up. See the boy in the picture? He's drinking out of a sports water bottle. What am I drinking out of? A Rubber-maid cocktail shaker with a beer coozy. Thanks, parents. No, that's not an Aubin Margarita in there, though the nasty "Citrus Gatorade" flavor (which they've since taken off the market) is about the same color.

All parental fails aside, this was actually a really great vessel for sports. The top came off so I could put plenty of ice cubes in, the spout was wide enough to get big gulps without dribbling all over the place, and it had a cover that was easy to open and close. It probably helped that I didn't recognize this as an cocktail shaker until about 7 years later.

Peak Snowshoe Race

2011-03-10T18:36:00.000-05:00

This was my first Peak race and my first snowshoe race, but having visited Pittsfield numerous times, drank to silliness with the RD at Sherpa’s wedding, and hanging with Team Robert, I felt like an old pro. I knew, or at least knew OF, almost a dozen other folks at the starting line.

The night before we had convinced (see: roped, connived, contrived, manipulated) Sherpa into staying the night in our cozy dwellings generously offered by the Strongs while they were in Mexico and doing at least one more loop with us. I was the only one signed up for the 6.5 mile "fun run" while My Runner, Taps, and Puma were all signed up for the marathon. My Runner's Pops and Bro showed in time for registration and signed up for the half-marathon. We had a great Team Robert showing.

The next morning came early for me. I'm slow to get ready. I have my pace, and I can't seem to step it up. So rather than keep people waiting I set my alarm 15 min earlier than everyone else. This seems to have worked as I had all my gear prepped, including shit I had forgotten the night before, I was dressed, washed, packed, "bathroomed," and heat-warmered by the time we had planned to leave.

We packed in to two cars and started the 5 minute commute to downtown Pittsfield to pick up our registration. We met Pop and Bro Robert while at the general store picking up our numbers. I was happy to see them as we thought they might not show till well after the start (Pops is a volunteer firefighter and his hours are wonky). Sherpa, already registered for his 100 mile race that started the day before at noon, chatted up the other runners eating breakfast. He's a Peak veteran, and a major proponent of their work.

We head to the start with So. Much. Time. to kill. I'm going crazy. I kina hafta pee, but I'm not willing to leave the start line with less than 10 minutes to go. This will come back to haunt me.

Sherpa tells me he's gonna drag me up the mountain. After hearing the trail is 4 miles up 2 miles down, I believe him. I remember climbing this mountain at the Holidays are Over Party weekend- it's effing STEEP. And other than kickboxing and hockey my training has been... wait, what's training again? We vaguely hear Andy the RD tell us to line up, and I move to the back. There are a TON of college aged kids in costumes. I'm way too envious of the chick in silver leggings, a pink tank tunic, and an even pinker fishnet overshirt. It looks like something my Gem doll wore. She's ten years younger than me. I picture how I’d look in that getup and I feel old. (Later I pass her skinny slow ass while she's gasping and I feel inordinately superior. Funny how that works.)

The course isn't easy. I recognize the first few miles, but I'm moving slow. The whole of team Robert is ahead of me: My runner, Pops, Bro, and Taps are moving in a group with a few ultra vets. Puma and I leap frog up a few hills, but Sherpa is way back, hanging with folks he hasn't talked to and nursing wounds and pains from the marathon he ran night before. I pause on "The Stairs" (a switch back trail that snakes up the side of the mountain) for a while waiting for Sherpa. I finally saw him, but was getting chilled and was unwilling to wait. Figured he was so much stronger than me that he would overtake me on the many climbs ahead.

The climbs were *tough*; I felt weak. Still, I was having fun watching all the college aged kids around me in their groups having fun and encouraging each other. What a great moment. I came to a portion of the trail with some lookouts over other peaks and valleys of the area. It was LOVELY and I wish I had a camera though it would not pick up the beauty. I decided to real in Puma to pick up the pace.

And catch her I do. Not without some effort, mind you. I could see her on the switch backs and called out to her. I could even see the Robert boys, though I knew that catching up to them would be a) unlikely, b)super draining, and c) useless as they were having guy-time and I would be an interloper. I enjoyed my friendly hunt of Puma, who kept me moving hard even when I caught up to her. We summit together, having seen Taps and My Runner coming down off the peak on the trail. Pops and Bro are still there, and Puma takes off with them. I wait for Sherpa.

Hanging out at the summit with the other runners and aid station volunteers, I am *desperately* searching for a place to pee. The woods around the trails are pretty sparse, and I’m way to pee-shy to walk a foot off trail and drop trou. The summit’s a clearing (lucky me) and of course no one was gonna drag a porta john up with a snowmobile. There’s a small hut/cabin, and I take my chances, crouch behind it, and do whatcha do. Ah the fun of outdoor sports.

Sherpa finally summits and in full Sherpa form. He's the man everyone wants to talk to. I get tired of waiting for him to quit socializing... and now I’m dragging HIM down the trail. We WALK down hill... and walk, and walk... selfishly? I start running, throwing a challenge to the Sherpa. The run feels good for me, but I know Sherpa’s hurting. We walk and talk the rest of the way, others occasionally joining our conversation. We had come to the mountain last night urging Sherpa to "come out with us for one more loop" and this was the only time any of us traveled with him. Sherpa, and so many others, have given their time to me, running my race with me, for the pure pleasure of running with someone whose company you enjoy. It was nice to finally return the favor.

We get back to base in I don’t know how much time. I mostly don’t care. This was about the experience, not the time. My Runner and Taps are back out on the course, Pops and Bro head out for their second of two laps. Puma attempted another, but her shoes have torn up her feet and it's not possible.

Sherpa takes off before the Robert team comes back. He just misses My Runner and Taps coming off their second lap. They're in good spirits and feeling great and I'm happy for them as they set out on lap 3. It's a bit more before Bro comes loping off the trail. At 15 he's got that gangly-horse look where he's all limbs and big feet and hands, but a baby face. He comes in relatively easily- a testament to the Robert genes and his swim training, grabs some food and sits on a snow bank. When I asked where Pops was, he stated, "I dunno... I left him. Maybe half an hour?" Pops came in, as usual entertaining a group of runners with only slightly exaggerated stories, about 45 minutes later. He seemed in good spirits, and that's all we are here for.

Pops, having worked the night before, decided to head out while he was still awake enough to drive. The boys are maybe 2/3 up the mountain when it starts to rain. We predict this may be the last lap, if the rain stays steady, but the weather refuses to be predictable: sleet, sun, clouds, wind, and more rain occur in the next hour and a half.

I look over the times while waiting for My Runner and Taps to come in. I see that I’m 4^th out of 4 in my age group, and note that the 1^st place in the age group was only 20 minutes ahead of me. I note with some satisfaction that if I had run this like a RACE, I would have won my age group.

The boys come in after third lap and eventually call it. Happy with their experience, we all head home for showers then a trip to Long Trail where we celebrate our achievements. Could I have run longer and suffered more? Yes. Did I want to? No. And I’m happy with my choice.

Kickin' A$$, Takin' Names

2011-03-04T08:49:00.000-05:00

Last night I pulled a Rocky- I pulled out my old cottons, my gloves, and ten bucks and hit Tokyo Joe's dojo for some good old ass kicking.

I *hope* someday to have a high kick like HilSwank. Maybe sans the scrunchy socks...

Years ago Face and I went religiously to this cardo kickboxing class twice a week. We went back a few times with Smarty and/or Poet before Face's wedding a year and a half ago. Poet's been back in town from NYC for almost a year now, and trying to stay active in a very car-oriented society. She's regularly invites me to Hot Yoga class, which is right behind the building I work in. She's looking to do her 30 mile round trip commute on a bike in the spring. And she's encouraging Face and I to go to kickboxing.

I'm so happy she did. I noted the leather on my gloves was stiffer than I remember- a side-effect of neglecting them. It took a bit of wear to loosen them up, and it took a bit of class to loosen me up as well. We worked on heavy bags with combinations. At first I took it slow, trying to get the form back into my body, place my feet correctly, but by the end of class I was wailing on that bag. ::Jab, cross, hook, (feet shuffle) kick:: Drop and do pushups for 60 seconds. ::cross, hook, uppercut, elbow, roundhouse:: Drop and 50 side-crunches each side.

By the end of the 50 minutes we were sweaty and feeling great. While my body felt like it was slipping into a pair of old jeans, Poet is still just learning the moves and form. She did a great job, worked hard, and seemed to feel amazing. I'm glad to see the supportive attitude that kept Face and I returning class after class remains at the dojo. The teacher came around to each group to ensure we were using proper form AND trying our hardest.

Right now I plan to go to kickboxing every Thursday. It's fantastic cross-training for my hip and ankle, and pretty much the only upper-body workout that I do. Bonus: kicking and punching feels GOOOOOOD.

All the World is a Stage

2011-02-23T08:05:00.001-05:00

So I received an email from a theatre company, Ghostlight, that I have some ties to. It was a sorta mass e-mail encouraging me to be a member again and subscribe to their season. Feeling generous and bored at work I reviewed what they had on tap. I was intrigued especially by one play. I looked a bit farther into it and found that I was a bit captivated by a certain role... a female role... a female in her mid-to-late-20's role... good golly with some moisturizer I could play that role....

I read a bit of the script, though honestly not all. I reached out to Shorty for advice and feedback. Then I shoved the idea to not just the back burner, but the nosebleed seats burner. It stewed on low like a crockpot on the counter. I'm still not sure what the final result will be, but I'll be damned if I can't stop from stirring the pot, taking a big whiff and seeing if I like what's cooking.

The current auditions are at a time I can't make. Bummer- and said as much. Well, what do I get for opening my mouth but another possible opportunity: a second audition date, even farther away with a schedule to be determined. Since I like to book myself eons ahead, this could be an issue. However, the rehearsal schedule would ALSO demand I take time from my current schedule and possibly sacrifice some plans I had already made. Am I ready for that?

Audition calls for a prepared monologue. Cool- I've done that. In college, and a bit after... so that means all the characters in those monologues are in their early 20's and the plays they come from are all slightly dated, like Kim Kardashian's sex tape or Double Rainbow Guy's youtube video.. It's not that it's not entertaining, but.... well, we've heard it before.

So now I'm in a position... do I want to do all this work for possibly very little payoff? What if it does pay off and I get the role and I can't do some of the runs or hikes I had planned? Do I even still have that spark that a few special people saw in me once? I feel the passion and the drive... Will that be enough for me? If I prepare and don't get this, will that be ok? If I prepare and I do get this, will that be ok?

Tomorrow I will search for a new monologue. And we'll go from there.

Ballet in first grade- this is where I learned I am NOT graceful.

College- where I had to dance again, but at least it was "modern" and "Greek"

Pocket found my true talent: awkward. Yes, I'm pooping on a laptop.

There is no "I" in "TEAM"

2011-02-16T21:36:00.002-05:00

... of course there's an "EA" in both Team and Leah, so that's something....

Monday I had a FANTABULOUS mail day. I received, along with the general junk mail, a package from my dad with some CD's and a book, my current issue of Cooks Illustrated (think Consumer Reports meets Joy of Cooking), a part of a preset for someone, a super Valentine from Shorty (send you a pic of the tat when I use it :-) ), and a large package from Running Banana delivered at work.

TEAM ROBERT SHIRTS!!!!

This year My Runner and I went back and forth about "expanding" Team Robert. TR was formed long before I was in the picture and included My Runner's Pops, who was his inspiration for Ultra Running, his half-siblings, and Puma. I was happy when the team expanded to include me, and even happier when it expanded to include people we run/hike/snowshoe/spend time with. A night with My Runner, Puma, and I resulted in the following message going out to those we thought might be interested:

Team Robert started as a family team. In Josh's (and so many of our) words, "Friends are the family that you choose." When you spend hours on the trail with someone, they know you on a deep level. When you train with people weekend after weekend, they see the good and bad. We've been through a lot together, on and off the trail, and we're all family: a team. We're planning on many outdoor events together, and it would be great to have support of a team even when we're not close to each other.

I'd been a part of Team Robert. I'd supported and taken part in Team Sherpa. I'd been on the Patriot Team with my Dad and his buddy in the VT50. We'd even started Hillsboro Trail Runners to have a group of like-minded folks be outside with us. We had lofty ideas of posting events in the paper and in town... but the reality is that it's important to me to recognize the people with whom I spend mile after mile, hour after hour, trudging, trotting, jogging, running, hiking, snow shoeing, drinking, eating with. The people that inspire me to get out there, and that I hope I can inspire back. The people that hear me bitching but love me anyways, even if it is with an eye roll. The people who understand that outside, with all it's "discomforts," is the place to be.

So, Team Robert initiated it's 2nd Generation t-shirts. That's not to say if there's no shirt one isn't on the team, oh no... the Team is truely MORE than the sum of it's parts. But this is the first step, I think, into what is important to us all. "Friends are the family that you choose." I love my family and have been blessed to be related to people that I would choose to hang out with. I've ALSO been blessed with the understanding that friends ARE family, and we've always treated them as such. My own mother often asks when we can get together with Smarty and Face, some of my closest friends and only two of many that my mother considers family. Team Robert is a continuation of that sentiment, and one I'm more than happy to perpetuate.

One of the fun things we could incorporate with the Gen II shirts is personalized logos.

Believe it or not, it was not I who thought of the Ferret for my logo. But as My Runner writes, it fits:

Common characteristics of the ferret are; curious, persistent, and fearless. All makes perfect sense to me. Leah's fearless hockey playing is what attracted me to her in the first place. Her curiosity is what got her into running with me, and if you read her blog she's very persistent in her research amongst other things. A once non-runner "unless being chased" is really coming into her own finishing a half marathon on the roads and in the woods in 2010.

So, that's me, on the Team. I'm already excited with what other folks are doing with this idea: Taps is looking into utilizing the team to fundraise for Autism, a cause close to his girlfriend Wick's heart. I'm hoping to get the team to run at this year's ARL 5K (organized by Face this year!!!). I'm looking forward to showing up to events as a group and having folks ask us about our shirts- maybe even inspire others to form their own teams. I like that we make plans to be outdoors together, encourage each other to train, and support each other when we need it.

Compare and Contrast

2011-02-11T13:20:00.004-05:00

I built a little spread sheet (because who doesn't like spread sheets?) comparing the car models I was interested in. It helps me consider what the advantages and disadvantages are.

The biggest problem I have is that the prices aren't really going to be the prices. I mean, how often do you hear about floor mats being "thrown in" or negotiating a discount on the model that's on the floor or whatever. Still, it's what I got from building the cars on their individual websites as closely as I could match them.

Sorted by cheapest to most expensive. I created the cars trying to get the three "options" that I'd really like to have, though as you can see I couldn't build the Fiesta or the Yaris with cruise control for some reason... Still, since they're already topping the price list range and not offering very much in the way of cargo room (or any room in the Yaris' case). It looks like I get the most from the Fit with the least amount of money as "options" that are important to me come standard. The Nissan Versa is coming in a close second in the numbers game, though almost EVERYTHING is an add on, so we'll see what the real-world add-up is. The Kia Soul + is in the top running as well; definitely the most distinctive vehicle of the group.

It's time to start setting up test drives. Per Consumer Reports, I should have a checklist for inside and out (there example is WAY more thorough than I will ever be, but is a good reference), as well as a planned test driving route. The route is planned to be about 45 minutes and includes all the types of driving I do: highway, city (residential and business), and dirt road. They also recommended I call the dealership to make sure they at least have the model in the engine size and transmission I'm interested in so I can test the car I actually want, not the one they want to sell me.

I've got a lot going on, but I hope to set up at least the Honda, Nissan, and Kia test drives all on the same day and knock them out. I'm sure I'll be taking notes and sharing my thoughts.

... And the Rest!

2011-02-09T08:52:00.000-05:00

Rather weary with car research. I think because I really need to start sitting in some of these cars to see if they're even worth learning more about. Below are the basics on the Mazda 2, Ford Fiesta, and the Nissan Versa, all still in the running. After this I'll analyze some data in spreadsheet form ('cause I'm a dork) and start setting up test driving sessions.

Mazda 2:
Sport (basic) $14,180
Touring (Cruise Control, Trip Computer) $15,635
EPA Mileage: 29/35

Need the Touring to have the Cruise Control. Both versions have the electronic stability control. I had originally looked at the Mazda 3, but like the Matrix the 3 is in the $20K range. It's pretty small, but great gas mileage. Consumer Reports (and Edmunds, and autoblog.com) states it's great to drive, and the interior is surprisingly roomy for a small car. The back seats don't lie flat, though, and cargo space is pretty limited... I just don't think this is going to end up being big enough.

Moving on...

Ford Fiesta:
SE (basic) $15,120
SES (sport) $17,120 (too much for this little car)
EPA Mileage: 28/37, Manual, or 29/40, Automatic w/Super Fuel Eco Pkg

LOTS of packages and add-ons. After building the car I want, (heated seats & side mirrors; bumper guard & molded mud flaps; molded all-weather floor mats) we're looking at $16,365 for manual or $17,830 for the automatic with fuel economy.

Let's look at the "savings" of fuel economy. The "combined" EPA mileage is 32mpg on the manual or 33mpg on the auto SFE. Let's assume a 10 gallon tank for easy math (the tank capacity isn't listed on the specs), I'd get about 320 miles per tank on the AT and 330 miles per tank on the SFE. If gas is $3/gallon, how many miles do I have to driver to make the SFE model, at $1,465 more, worth it?

So, divide $30 by.... no... wait.... $3 times 330 miles... no... erm... x = y? Can I use a life line?

Smartie whipped up the math for me on her phone. Her explanation below:

Assuming that there is really only 1mpg difference, the better deal by far is the cheaper one. The trick is to find the break even point.
First, you find the cost equation for each car, which is the initial cost added to the cost per mile times miles driven. To find cost per mile, you divide the price of gas by the miles per gallon (assuming $3/gal). The equations look like this:
A: C = 16365 + .09375x
B: C = 17830 + .09091x
To find the break even point, you set them equal to each other and solve for x. So...
16365 + .09375x = 17830 + .09091x
.00284x = 1465
X = 515,845 miles
So, if the only difference you're interested in is the cost, then you'd have to drive over half a million miles to make up the cost.
Hope that helps. :)

Aaaand this is why she's Smartie. Half a million miles? C'mon, people, it's a Ford....

Fuel economics aside, the back seat is quite small and visibility out the back stinks. Reviews noted that there's a big trade-off in engine performance for the fuel economy. Front seats and "cockpit" are comfortable even for a long ride, and road noise is pretty good for it's size. All the reviews I read were of the suped-up SES hatchback, so I have no idea what else I'd "loose" by going with the more economic option.

Last but not least....

The Nissan Versa
18S Hatchback: $13,910
EPA Rating: 26/31 mpg

The more expensive SL option does not come with a manual transmission, but the automatic Continuously Variable Transmission does have an EPA rating of 28/34. The Plus Package includes keyless entry and cruise control. There are a few things that are strangely not even options on the base model, like overhead sunglasses storage or a vanity mirror on the driver's visor, armrest in the front AND back... Really? These seem like basic comfort options and relatively inexpensive- why leave them out? Or give me the option to have them installed. I also have to upgrade to get Electronic Stability Control on the VDC package. With the two packages and the minor extras I applied to all the other cars, the total comes to $15,381. Reviews come up with few negatives, and actually state the interior is well constructed for this level of car. Sounds like a contender.

Bear Brook Fat Ass, January 29th, 2011

2011-02-03T22:03:00.000-05:00

About Christmas time Dad let me know that he and his girlfriend L were going to be vacationing in the White Mountains the last week in January, and could they stop by and stay over on their way home? This invited the idea of planning a "Fat Ass" event: a run (generally) with no aid stations, a group of crazy folks, and beer at the end. I had initially planned on a 29K- about 18 miles total- in Bear Brook State Park. I've never run this distance, plus it's the middle of winter and training time is sparse... this was gonna be a challenge to complete, never mind plan.

With all the snow we've had there was no way we were running without at least some serious traction. I ended up suggesting snow shoes or cross country skis to anyone partaking. I downloaded a map of Bear Brook's trails, read the descriptions of each one, coded them for difficulty, and mapped out a route with two "peaks" and plenty of rolling terrain. Since snowshoeing is more taxing than "mere" running, I downgraded the distance. The large loop measured a bit more than 9 miles according to the map scale, with three bail-out points between 5 and 6 miles.

Planned route at Bear Brook State Park

Know me and you know that I take my "planner" responsibilities pretty seriously. I was worried no one would show up. Then I was worried a lot of people would show up and they'd hate it. I worried that I forgot something crucial. The morning of the event came and I knew at least 7 people were coming out to play in the woods and at least 5 were coming back to eat at my place after. My head swam with logistics about feeding people, ensuring my house guests were comfortable, packing proper food and hydration.

My Runner and Sherpa had met at 6:15am that morning to start on the trails and gain some extra mileage in anticipation of the Peak Snow Shoe Race in March. Their pre-surveillance of the trails, as well as Sherpa's familiarity with BBSP, turned out to be very helpful.

So, I forgot the map. Obviously. Though it turns out I didn't even have the correct one- I had the Summer Trail Map that didn't show which trails were groomed for snowmobiles and what trails we'd have to break. Luckily Sherpa came prepared (at least the tens of thousands of tuition dollars paid for SOMETHING... saving my ass!) with 6 copies of the winter trail maps.

Next surprise- Dad and L had one pair of snow shoes between them. Snow shoes that were likely made by Inuits at least 10 years before I was born. Seriously, these things shoulda been in a museum. After learning how groomed the trails were, I suggested they both wear their x-country skis. L was still gaining confidence in her skis, and Sherpa re-assured her that she could handle the terrain.

The group heading out from the parking area

Ten people and a doggie set out from the parking lot (which was NOT the lot I had planned on starting from- the gates to THAT lot were closed despite what I had been told by park staff). The weather was warm: about 25* at 10am. Spirits were high, and we were all chatting and having a grand time. I felt great, despite being tired and having forgotten the map.

The first turn came to go up Bear Hill and the trail was steep and ungroomed. A decision was made that the cross-country skiers, Dad and L, the two "novice" snow shoers G and J, and the doggie would go off on their own. The rest of us would "catch up" (yeah right). We didn't see Dad and L again until the parking lot.

Gazelle, Sherpa, me, Taps, Puma, and photog My Runner

My Runner, Sherpa, Puma, Gazelle, Taps, and myself broke trail up the slope. The trail on the map appeared to be no more than a quarter mile, but the sign at the trail head stated 1.2 miles to the summit (the first in MANY signs that this day would be longer than expected). We all worked hard breaking the trail taking turns in the lead until we reached the summit. About a tenth of a mile from the top we saw the quarter mile summit trail that was the PLANNED route... whoops. We used it as a return route and began down the groomed Podunk Road. (Seriously. Podunk. I *wish* I could make this shit up.)

The snowmobilers were out in droves. I knew Bear Brook was popular for snow mobiles, but we spent a quarter of the time hunkered by the side of the groomed road choking on fumes. The positive- at least half of them were polite and shared the roads with us.

It wasn't long- ok, it WAS long, but we weren't far into my planned hike when I leaned over to Taps who has a fancy-schmancy GPS watch and said, "How long we been out here?"
"About two hours."
"And... how far have we gone?"
"5.3 miles."
"Shit. Sherpa, lemme see that map...."

Taps and me on the trails

We were about a third of the way into the "9 mile" loop, and still quite a distance from the bail out points. I was feeling great, but Gazel had only snowshoed about 4 times this year, and Puma was nursing an injury and coming back from time off. We weren't going super fast, but I realized there was no way this was gonna be short for anyone. I confided in Sherpa, who looked at me knowingly. "I didn't know how to tell you without stepping on your toes..." Whelp, in for a penny in for a pound today. Shit, in for a penny in for a kilo and a bonus pack.

Gazelle, Puma, and Sherpa

My Runner giving me a (deserved) long-suffering look

Ultimately we were on the trail for about 5 hours and 11.5 miles. Dad and L arrived at the parking lot an hour and change before us, and gallantly picked up beer for everyone. At the mention of beer, Gazelle, true to her name, sprang ahead, eager to take of her snow shoes and relax.

Gazelle waiting impatiently for us to catch up, Sherpa with his trademark Shit-Eating-Grin

I felt GREAT at the end of 11.5 miles. Puma was hurting, but in good spirits once her shoes were off. Taps was still bouncing off the walls- that guy has ENDLESS energy. Sherpa seemed to have a great time, but headed home early (poor guy can't have beer now anyways...). My Runner had angered his achillies after 18+ miles of snowshoeing in boots not really made for hiking or outdoor sports.

Dad, L, Taps, Puma, My Runner, and I retired back to my place for salty snacks and crock-pot fajitas. The beer flowed, we chatted about hiking, races and runs past and future, and much more. Fred got some cuddle love. I started to fade around 6:30, kicked out the guests, had one last beer with Dad, then excused myself and slept, SOUNDLY, for 10 hours.

I made many "mistakes" with this first Fat Ass. I'm still not sure what happened with the map scale, and I really should have scouted at least the parking area. While I understand the decision to break up the group, I was bummed I didn't spend more time with Dad on the trails. However I was very happy snow shoeing ELEVEN MILES! And luckily my mistakes didn't result in any serious injuries or illnesses. Best of all, I got to explore an amazing park that's about twenty minutes from my apartment.

It'll be a while before I plan a Fat Ass again, but when I do I hope to at least not make the same mistakes twice.

Without a Rudder

2011-01-27T19:50:00.000-05:00

Ever feel directionless? Like you're floating? Not in the "happy cloud" way, but in the "I don't know where I'm going and I don't have the energy to care" way? I've kinda got that feeling right now. Hence why the post-silence. I don't feel drained or depressed. I do plenty of things just fine, but it's not easy to gather motivation. Offer me a choice and I don't really care- sometimes I'll pick one just to move forward, but I don't have a strong inclination towards... well... anything. It's been long enough that I need to DO something to snap out of it, but what?

Have you ever been in this mood? Any suggestions?

Wholly Dazed

2010-12-29T15:58:00.001-05:00

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from your friendly Hallmark Christian*!!

This holiday season has been filled with family, friends, and finally in the North East, SNOW!!!

My Runner and I broke out the snowshoes this past Monday to give them a whirl. I huffed and puffed through the 2-ish miles in the woods. We were (ok, mostly he was) breaking trail. The wind was still gusting a lot and the trees creaked and cracked above us. It was great!

Pops came up for Christmas as usual and came up (pre-snow) to My Runner's house and for a trail run in the woods. I spent some time with my Grammy, Great Aunt, and Aunt for lunch on Christmas Day, and was able to put in a significant visit to my mother's large family for dinner. Back to work for a few days this week, but it's nice and quiet with most people on vacation.

My Runner has put together a few posts of a year in review, along with a spectacular slideshow. It's inspired me to actually take some time to look back on my year, highlight the high points, ruminate on the lessons learned, and set goals for the new year. I'll do this throughout the month of January and over several posts.

I've also been putting off research for the next car on my list: the Ford Fiesta. A cursory search says it's a good car that's well reviewed, but my brand perception of Ford is giving me researchers-block. I might just skip it for now and head on down to the Nissan Versa & Cube....

If you're at work, I hope I've sufficiently distracted you for a few minutes (and playing on JibJab is totally fun). If you're on vacation, get off this damned machine and go play!!

*Hallmark Christianity is a phrase I created to describe those that have a Christian heritage, and maybe were baptized once upon a time, but NEVER go to church- not even at Christmas or Easter. These folks DO celebrate Christmas and to a certain extent Easter, but in the most superficial and consumer-based way, embodied by the Hallmark Greeting Card.

Update: 2011 Elantra

2010-12-22T15:45:00.000-05:00

Thanks, Consumer Reports Blog, for a super-timely update on the 2011 Elantra! Looks like the re-design for this year is even better than the quite good 2010 Elantra. Hmm... maybe it will earn a higher place on the list?

First Look Hyundai Elantra (Video embedded in article webpage)

"Why do you think I have this OUTRAGEOUS Accent?"

2010-12-21T09:25:00.000-05:00

"... you silly English kin-ig-it!"

My original thought was to look into the VERY inexpensive Accent.

Seriously, the hatch version starts at $9,985. However, it only comes in a 3-door (2 passenger doors and a hatch) version, and I'd really prefer true back-seat doors. Also, it's cheap because it's, well... cheap. The base model doesn't even have ABS as an OPTION. Now, I know how to break so they don't lock up, but resale wise not having that pretty basic standard feature is kinda crap. Needless to say, the Accent was eliminated from my list after about 3 minutes of research.

Onto the Elantra Touring.

Base Model MSRP: $15,995 (no additions)
EPA Milage: 23/31

The Elantra is Hyundai's compact sedan, the Touring is the hatch version. It comes will all the safety features standard (unlike the Accent) and some of the perks I want in a car like keyless entry. The only possible add-ons would be cruise control and MAYBE steering wheel audio controls.

Too bad it's totally a mom-mobile:

Reviews on the Elantra SE are quite favorable, though. Enough to make me think about looking at the sedan model:

Pretty sexy, no? With a starting price tag of $14,830 (more than $1K lower than the hatch) and EPA mileage 29/33, it seems to be a better buy. But is it really? Let's compare (thanks, Hyundai website!)

Elantra GLS, MT	Elantra Touring GLS, MT
$14,830	$15,995
EPA mileage 29/33	EPA Milage: 23/31
Anti-Trap trunk release	not an option
Auto Headlights w/ off	not an option
Remote Trunk Release	not an option
A/C option	A/C standard
Trip Computer	not an option

So, the only thing I'd *loose* is standard AC. I'd gain the standard remote doors and trunk. Some of the options, like Cruise Control, remain the same. So, unless the AC is $1K, the sedan IS a better buy then the Touring. Reviews? Consumer Reports video:

Popular Mechanics Review of Hyundai Elantra

End result: Accent is off the list as is the Elantra Touring, but the Elantra sedan has made the list; the only sedan in a sea of hatches.

Potential Cars:

1. Honda FIT
2. Kia Soul
3. Hyundai Elantra
? Ford Fiesta
? Nissan Versa (& Cube)
? Mazda MAZDA A2 (& A3 5-door)
10. Toyota Yaris

Eliminated:
Kia Rio 5
Toyota Matrix
Hyundai Accent
Hyundai Elantra Touring

TOYOTA

2010-12-16T14:16:00.002-05:00

To start, I still have faith in the Toyota brand even after the gas-pedal recall hullabaloo. Recalls were widespread, sure, but they also resolved all the issues quickly and thoroughly. My Runner and Face both drive Toyotas and are happy with their vehicles. I've never heard anyone complain about having a "lemon" with a Toyota. I'm a little over the typical Prius "I drive a hybrid so I can drive my car 1/4 mile down the road because I'm better than you" driver, but that's Society's fault, not Toyota's. (I know not all Prius drivers are holier-than-thou- several of my damneder-than-thou relatives drive Priuses... just using a stereotype to save time.)

So, I like the idea of driving a Toyota. The two hatch-back cars are the economy Yaris and the sedan Matrix. Both have incredible standard safety features, like all Toyotas. How do they stack up against the Fit, and my budget in general?

Toyota Yaris (5-door Hatch)

Base Model, ST, MSRP: $13,155

Est. MPG City/Hwy: 29/36

Need upgrade package for power locks & remote key. Upgrade from radio also needs package. Cruise control is an option.

Stability Control is standard.

Priced for my area w/convenience package (for CD player & aux jack, split fold-down back seats, and extra heating) price is $14,945. Would want to add CC, but not an option on a "build a Yaris" so I'm not sure how that would affect the price.

Consumer Report's video review. Basically says outright it's a bit of crap for the money you spend, and the Fit's a superior car. Other reviews (linked below) mention the same issues- pricey with options, noisy, sluggish response... Great mileage, though! Breaking point? Two measly cup holders for the front seats. Pppphhhbbbbttttt!!!!! Yaris, you're at the end of the list- yes, even below the Kia.

Edmunds Review of the 2011 Yaris
US News Review of the 2011 Yaris

Toyota Matrix

Base Model, ST, MSRP: $16,700

Est. MPG City/Hwy: 26/32

As with Yaris, most convenience stuff is in a package- power locks, remote entry, etc. It has a telescopic steering wheel adjust like the Fit, and at least the CD player/Aux Jack is standard. Has the same great safety features including Stability Control all standard. Have to go to the next model up, Matrix S AND get the AWD version for over $20k for AWD- not sure if it's needed, but would be interesting to drive the AWD model to see the difference. Still, not really in the market for a $20k car. Mileage kinda sucks, actually....

Priced for my area w/ "power package" which has extra winter stuff like a rear windshield wiper, plus power locks and keyless entry is $19,300. Whelp, that's $20K which effectively prices the Matrix off of my list. See ya!

The list as it currently stands:
1. Honda FIT
2. Kia Soul

? Hundai Accent (& Elantra Touring)
? Ford Fiesta
? Nissan Versa (& Cube)
? Mazda MAZDA A2 (& A3 5-door)
10. Toyota Yaris

Eliminated:
Kia Rio 5
Toyota Matrix

I-Kia?

2010-12-11T09:30:00.001-05:00

The Kia Rio 5

Base Model (Lx) AT MSRP: $15,095 (w/ "value package" $16,540)
Estimated MPG City/Highway: 27/35

Silver's more my color... but the burnt orange is nice.

This one's pretty much ruled out by not having a standard transmission. Still, it's worth considering a Kia due to their great warranty. The Rio 5 is the SAME as the Rio Sedan, but with a hatchback. It's a decent car, stuff-wise, for a decent price. But it's coming out below the Fit... the prices are essentially the same but the Rio has less standard safety features, and the Honda will hold it's value longer than the Kia.

Oh, huh... look at this article about the 10 Least Safe Cars of All Time... guess you're out, Rio.

While browsing the site, I noticed the Kia Soul. The Soul is in the Roller Skate vein of cars (think Cube, Element, etc), but it's got just about everything I'm looking for. Here's the base specs:

2011 Kia Soul + (the base model was a little more basic than I wanted to live with)

MSRP: $15,495 (w/ my options $16,275)

Estimated MPG City/Highway: 24/30

Quality standard safety features including Electronic Stability Control (ESB). This model has the power locks/windows/keyless entry type features that I like with the option added of cargo liner etc. The mileage isn't awesome, but the rest of the car is totally comparable to the Fit. I'm not a fan of the "logo seat covers" that is the ONLY interior option, but whatevs.

Edmunds Review of the Soul Highlight quote: "There are other choices to consider, naturally, including ... the Honda Fit, which has livelier handling and surprisingly cavernous cargo capacity."

Car and Driver Review of the Soul Highlight quote: "Looks are the whole ballgame here, because beneath the radically angled window line and the buff fender bulges and the seat fabric that glows in the dark with the word “soul” is basically a good-sized but unspectacular economy box."

After research, the Soul falls above the Rio, but still slightly below the Fit.

Two Homes, One Heart

2010-12-09T14:08:00.001-05:00

So this is a blog about life and love and dealing with problems and this post is about all three. I just haven't posted something of such a personal nature in a while and thought it should come with a disclaimer, as it's a bit of a shift in gears. (Get it? Because of the car posts...)

I've often joked that I have a home in the city and a home in the country. Now that My Runner has purchased his own house, that feels even more true. But the reality is that I have an apartment in the city, and My Runner invites me to visit his home. That's a subtle but emotionally important distinction.

I know he's excited to have his own place, and settle into it. "Hell, *I'm* excited for him that he gets the chance to live on his own, set things up the way HE wants it, and make all the home decisions. I know it was a great growing experience for me, and I hope he finds benefit in it as well. He has asked my advice on some things, but ultimately has made his own choices. I've helped (or attempted to help) on some of the projects around his house. However, there's a line that I worry I keep crossing.

I'm an over-share-er. You want to borrow something I have, then help yourself. Need extra storage? I've got space. Like my sweater? Sure you can wear it Wednesday. That's me. I generally don't get annoyed until someone, say, borrows my underwear or has sex in my bed (ok, this was ONE college roommate, but yes, both happened). And even then, honestly, the right person asking in the right situation I'd be like, well ok, go for it.

I don't always realize other people have different boundaries than I do. I try to be considerate, but because it wouldn't occur to me that, say, leaving earrings on the table or a coat in the closet might be an encroachment, I just don't think about the earrings I left on the table. I think My Runner doesn't mind one thing here or there every now and then. But because I've been staying at his house so much, my stuff is spreading, and more of it is staying... The other night I got a text from My Runner: "You moving in? I think you have more coats in my closet than I do." I'm sure it was meant in a joking manner, but the message was clear- you're NOT living here, so please don't take advantage.

On the flip side, My Runner has offered a place to keep some toiletries, the bed stand on the side of the bed I sleep on is empty, and he, at one point, mentioned keeping a few things at his place for work-clothing emergencies. I'm at his house just about every weekend from Friday night to Monday morning, and generally one more night during the week- ie, more than I'm at my own place. So, where does the line get drawn?

I want to be considerate of his space without having to worry that I'm overstepping. But I don't want to seem like I'm withdrawing. And honestly, I know me and I know at some point I'll absent-mindedly forget a pair of shoes or a hair tie or something, and I don't want that to cause a major issue. Ultimately, I don't want to worry about this all the time and have it be a "thing."

Obviously it's time for a brief chat about what's ok and what's not. He's rarely at my house, and with my non-borders, it's never been an issue when he stayed there anyways. And honestly, while a discussion will help me remember a bit to keep my "stuff" tamed, I'm bound to forget. So there also needs to be an understanding that I'm NOT "playing games" or being passive-aggressive, but just forgetful.

There is a darker side to this, and I'm embarrassed and a bit ashamed to admit it. Of course my actions came from being excited for My Runner to have his own place, but upon examination there was some selfishness at play too. I would often interject or respond as if I had any authority at the house. Like, when the neighbor asked about cutting trees, *I* said "That shouldn't be a problem." Or I would state "We just moved in," leaving out the necessary language to indicate that we had just moved ONE PERSON in. I don't recall doing this on purpose, but I do recall replaying these things in my head after I said them, thinking, "that can't be good." But I didn't make a very conscious effort to stop. I guess part of me wanted it to be true, and part of me was so excited for him I just didn't care. Not until he cared and expressed to me how much it bothered him. I know this was rude behavior, and it's embarrassing to admit bad manners.

So now, I make a conscious effort to not answer on behalf of him, and to make sure it's clear that I'm not a resident. But that doesn't mean I haven't screwed up. It's possible that I wasn't paying attention while talking. Actually, that's likely because I rarely pay attention to what I'm saying until after I've said it. (I don't recommended this- it gets me into trouble A LOT.)

Maybe some day this will all be a moot point, but for now it seems like an important stepping stone in our relationship. How do we express our boundaries? How do we tell each other when we're hurt or bothered? What's acceptable behavior and what's not? What can we forgive and learn to live with, and what's unforgivable? The actual topic might not be incredibly weighty, but the practice of resolving this little thing might have implications in how we resolve the big things.

**Edit: this post was written and for the briefest of moments published before I spoke to My Runner about the situation. Since he reads the blog (hi baby!) I figured it'd be best for our relationship if I brought this up with him before putting it out for the world- or the 8 or so of you that read this- to see. The chat was quick and productive, and as per usual I blew the issue way out of proportion in my head.**

The Perfect Fit

2010-12-03T09:30:00.003-05:00

The 2011 Honda Fit. Yum. This is the car I will measure all others on my list against. Still, buying a car is a Big Deal (note the capitols) and so I feel like I have to explore every option in a thorough manner to be comfortable signing away several thousand dollars and 4-5 years of my life.

4-Door Hatchback 5 person
Base Model, ST, MSRP: $15,100
Est. MPG City/Hwy/Combined: 27/33/29

The base model has A LOT standard, so that's sweet. I've added splash guards, a liner to the cargo area and keyless entry because I am now spoiled and it's worth $150 to never have to search for the lock in the cold and dark. I'll have to see how good the floor mats are in person, since I can get really great all-weather mats for about the same price as Honda retail.

It's got SPACE:

Back seat folds completely vertical. Great for tall laundry baskets or hockey sticks.

Back seats fold completely flat. Could fit a big ol' goalie bag o' gear in that pretty easily.

Viola! Instant room for a full sized inflatable mattress OR room for Ultra gear & crew crap.

What's even better? The 2011 model has Electronic Stability Control standard for only $200 more than the 2010 model. Previously you'd have to get the Sport Navigation package which a)only comes with Automatic Transmission and b) adds $4,210 to the base price. I don't really need the navigation option, and it seems silly to have a "sport" model with an Automatic Transmission. So, I'm psyched that this recommended safety feature is now standard (has to be standard on every car by 2012, fyi). Other sweet standard features are ten, count 'em TEN cup holders, power locks and windows, AC, Cruise Control, and USB/Aux jack stereo interface.

Relevant reviews:
US News
Car and Driver

Edmunds
(Consumer Reports update linked in the paragraph above)

Have you driven a Fit? Any suggestions?

A Neeewww CAAARRRR!!!

2010-12-01T08:51:00.000-05:00

In a previous post I detailed my new budget plan with the end-game of purchasing a new car. In the next few posts I'll be going through some of the cars I'm looking at with stats, options, prices, and relevant reviews. I'd love any input you have.

Background: I currently drive a 2002 VW Cabrio convertible. It's effing ADORABLE. It's great to paralell park, and nothing is greater than taking that top down on a warm sunny day and going ... anywhere. The most mundane errands are fun when buzzing around in this cute little car. And it IS little. I can find a parking spot just about anywhere, which was a huge boon when I was still living in the middle of the city. I bought it from a co-worker on the SUPER cheap, with low mileage and a pristine body (the car, not the co-worker). I ~~blame~~ credit the Cabrio with getting My Runner and me together- if it wasn't for a dead battery the day of playoffs (and the subsequent week), who knows what wouldn't have happened?

Hallo, Auto!

Everyone loves topless driving

So why the heck do I want to sell? Well, it's a Volkswagon, so there's essentially zero cup holders. I know that's a bit trite, but I'm really looking forward to driving without coffee nestled in my crotch. It's an automatic transmission, and even though it has 1st-3rd as options, I miss having a manual transmission in the winter. It doesn't get the awesome gas mileage you would think for a small car with a small engine. It's SMALL. I barely consider it a 4 person car and I feel like I could be accused of entrapment whenever I have to transport someone in the back seat (insert obligatory Mall Rats joke here). The trunk space is nearly as sparse. When My Runner and I took the Cabrio to VT for a long weekend our luggage took up pretty much ALL the extra space in the car.

What doesn't work with the Cabrio informed what I'm looking for. I'd like a small hatchback with a manual transmission that gets good gas mileage and has a good sized interior. And lots of cup holders, (though it seems that every non-German car realizes this need as new cars have an average of 27 cup holders per passenger.) My budget informs my price range. I'll be selling the Cabrio in the spring/summer (best time to sell a convertible) and using the cash from the sale and my savings as a down payment. Using calculators from my credit union and on cnn.com I was able to determine that I can afford a 4-year loan in the $15-$17K range.

I have a relatively broad list of cars to research. I'd love any insight or suggestions you have!
Potential Cars:

Honda FIT (I *love* this car... the list is so long because I don't want to be too partial)
Kia Rio5
Toyota Yaris (& Matrix- concerned the Yaris will be too small and the Matrix too big)
Hundai Accent (& Elantra Touring- same concerns as the Toyotas, but these cars are CHEAP)
Ford Fiesta
Nissan Versa (& Cube- not sure I love the Cube's weirdness, but it's like an Element thats $8K cheaper)
Mazda MAZDA A2 (& A3 5-door- I see a LOT of A3's on the road)

A Year in Races (For Thanksgiving)

2010-11-26T23:35:00.000-05:00

This was meant to be posted on Thanksgiving, but it was a full day of visiting My Runner's family in VT.

Thanksgiving 2010 marks one full year since my very first official race. I took some time to look back on the year, the races, and the memories (briefly) for each run.

11/26/09- Feaster Five Road Race
5K, 31m18s
HUGE race- over 10,000 people there. I ran with Pocket (a bit- she ran the 5mi option), and got PIE!

12/12/09- Beaver Brook Winter 5K(ish)
4.5K, 27m34s
Pocket dropped giving My Runner her number, snow covered the trails, first time I thought I would puke from running. Also my first "official" race with My Runner.

2/14/10- Frozen Shamrock (Wild Rover Race 1)
3mi, 27m45s
First solo race, first run after undergoing PT for my hip overuse injury. Thought I would die when ipod ran out of batteries, finished smiling instead, got BEER!

2/27/10- Cladagh Pub (Wild Rover Race 2)
4mi, 39m10.5s
First run with Dad! My Runner was there too- was an unseasonably warm and sunny day (ran in a t-shirt) for Feb, got BEER! Got more beer and lunch at Murph's while My Runner got to know my Pops.

3/14/10- Hynes Tavern (Wild Rover Race 3)
5mi, 49m5.5s
Ran fighting rain and St. Patty's day hangover. Too cold, damp, and tired to stay for beer. Set a mileage marker with this race.

3/20/10- Shamrock 8K (Dolphin Challenge 1)
8K, 51m50s
In VA beech with Pocket and My Runner. Gorgeous day, fun run, got FOUR BEERS before being coerced into more drinks at a boardwalk bar. Gin Bloody Marys are pretty awesome.

3/21/10- Shamrock Half Marathon (Dolphin Challenge 2)
13.1mi, 2h30m34s
Longest distance run ever (had only run 6 and change). Ran with a Bloody Mary most of the way. Took photo at mile 7 to commemorate the distance breaking point. Shared post-race beers w/ My Runner (who ran the marathon) on the beach.

4/18/10- Muddy Moose
4mi, 41m49s
First run after (initial) ankle injury (hockey). Not kidding with "Muddy"- still get dirty feet when I wear those sneakers. Some of my favorite run pics come from this race.

5/29/10- Pineland Farms 5K (Trail Running Festival)
5K, 34m38s
First run after secondary ankle injury (EMS trail fun run). Felt horrible- almost every step a struggle. Beer at the end helped a bit... at least the weather was nice?

5/30/10- Pineland Farms 25K (Trail Running Festival)
25K, 3h:43m:10s
Ran with the Strongs for almost four hours- they became true family in that time. This race is my distance record to date.

7/4/10- Clarence Demar 5K (GMAA)
5K, 29m52s
Super hot run in South Hero VT with My Runner's Pops and Lil Bro. Still feeling super out of shape, but set a 5K PR.

7/9/10- Hillsboro Balloon Fest
5K, 34m09s
After a pre-race browse down the midway, shared these miles with Puma as MC ran in her first official race and My Runner encouraged her husband GC along.

8/22/10- Moose on the Loose, Relay (Team Thespians)
10mi (2.5 mi), 1h34m30s
First relay, first race after re-re-injury of the stoopid ankle. G. ran 1st loop, Pocket ran 2&3, I finished 4th loop. Celebrated the 1 year anniversary of Pocket's first official race.

9/26/10- VT 50, Relay (Team Patriot)
50mi (12.3mi), 9h30m22s (2h20m)
Team with Dad & friend Ed, shared my 12mi leg with My Runner and Gilly, as well as pacing My Runner through (most of) the last 3 miles. This race was more of a challenge to prep than to run- too much pressure on myself.

10/10/10- Harpoon Oktoberfest Road Race
3.6mi. 32m34.5s
Big group this year, with the Strongs, My Runner, Puma, the C's and more. Enjoyed many, many Harpoon beverages on tap during the Oktoberfest party after the run.

10/16/10 - My Dogs Are Barkin' 5K (Animal Rescue League of NH)
3.4mi, 29m 47s
A fund-raiser for the Bedford Animal Rescue League, Face (who's on the board of the ARL) volunteered for the event and got to see me into the finish line. This was the ARL's first 5K and they landed more than 300 entrants- pretty darn good! Also, there were LOTS of cute doggies. :-)

11/25/10 - (VT Turkey Trot)
5K fun run, 30m 8s
This run is a true family fun-run, with no numbers and no perks. Families are $10 to register. My Runner and his dad have been doing this run for longer than he remembers and it was great to be a Team Robert member this year.

Here's to many more runs and many more adventures. I'm thankful for my family, my friends, and the fact that most of the people I know fit into both categories. Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone.

Shape Up Or....

2010-11-04T11:17:00.000-04:00

While I wasn't paying attention, my life kinda fell apart.

I haven't been running. Here and there a few miles, but maybe once a week.

I haven't been saving. Well, I have money going to a savings account, but I'm also spending and using credit, so it amounts to the same thing.

I haven't been eating well. I've been eating WELL- but not healthily.

On my day off this week I did some deep cleaning in my apartment. I purged old and ill-fitting clothes (including going through the sock and underwear drawer), organized both closets, scrubbed the bathrooms, scoured and vacuumed the floors. It was a good day- cleaning, organizing, and getting rid of junk I don't need made me very up-beat and happy. It's obvious to me now that I felt my life lacking in structure, but wasn't sure how to articulate it.

Just one day later I was feeling so unsettled that I had an emotional breakdown in traffic. Sure, no one likes traffic. Usually I'm able to hold a certain amount of zen about it. Yesterday, no zen, only Zuul. I was so frustrated that once I was finally OUT of traffic I started crying. That's not the sign of a well-balanced emotional state.

Last night I ran with My Runner and a group of others. I wanted to run hard. I wanted to push my lazy body and make it pay for it's inactivity. But this was also a social outing. Internally I fought between staying with my friends and running for me.

This morning on the way to work My Runner kept asking me if/why I was upset. Wha? I didn't feel upset. I was fine. Just fine. I got the "... okayyyy...." and rightly so. Of course I wasn't fine, but I wasn't even admitting to myself I wasn't fine. How could I admit it to anyone else?

I'm not fine. There are very basic aspects of my life that have no organization. Chaos reigns. I'm on the verge of tears for the smallest things. And no, I'm not PMS-ing. It's time to organize, purge, and regroup.

Back to running at least three times a week. Every other Wednesday is a group run at this point, plus at least once a month I'm either doing a 5K or a longer group run, but that's not enough. I want to be strong enough to snowshoe this winter and not hurt myself. We're planning a trip to Mt. Katahdin in ME which is a rigorous hike. Running is the cheapest and easiest way for me to stay in shape to do the things I want to do. Now that I have a headlamp, running in the evening is a bit safer. Time to break out that mace for my solo runs and see if anyone's got a spare reflective vest kicking around. (Anyone got a spare reflective vest kicking around?)

My spending moratorium is back. Again. Expenses shall be limited to groceries (not "food"- lunch out is not a qualified expense), gas, and bills. I do, of course, have a few exceptions (like baby-soul eye-cream), but this is THE plan. I will keep my goal firmly in front of me, and since it's concrete I will share: a new car. By May I'd like my credit card paid off, and about $4000 in cash (savings combined with the sale of my car), so I can put money down on a new Honda Fit (or something similar). Currently I pay between $200-$250 to my credit card, but since I keep using it a bit it's not going down as fast as I'd like it. I can get a car payment under $300, so I'd simply be replacing my credit card payment with a car payment. Considering how often my Cabrio has had issues, I think this is a solid investment. This means putting off purchases I had planned on, like a new laptop, a hair cut, and some new dish towels, but eh. I'll live.

I'll be eating right. And by that I mean eating poor. I have PLENTY of food in my house. The only groceries I should need are fruits and vegetables- I have enough protein and grains to get me through at least mid-December. I'll give making bread another try- it was never AWESOME but it was generally edible. Leftovers are not just a staple, but THE staple. Creatively using ingredients is something the best home cooks do, and I have enough of the basics down to spread my wings. Hell, I might even find a new awesome dish (amongst the awful failures and mediocre offerings).

The final aspect- accountability. If I make my choices public then I must be accountable for my actions. Looking back to when I was training for a half-marathon, I posted my runs all the time. I won't do that, but I will start publishing my miles (look to the sidebar). I will post about my kitchen experiments. Maybe make a game show out of it! What would YOU do with a can of black beans, a bag of frozen mixed veggies, and rotini? You have almost every condiment imaginable, especially spicy ones. Go. And when I get to reward my good spending habits with test drives, I'll let you know what I think.

VT 50, 2010: Run with Love

2010-10-04T08:43:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I put too much pressure on myself. It's in my nature. I was training to run 13 miles in the mountains of VT. Not JUST run it, but run it in time for two other people, one of them my DAD, to run 37 miles within a cutoff time so our team wouldn't be disqualified. This was the first race where the finishing time mattered. And it was killing me. I was psyched to be on a team with dad, but half my training runs would involve me breaking down at some point when it was super hard (we're talking 2-4 mile runs here) and sobbing, knowing in my heart that I'd fail.

This same self-pressure followed me all the way to Vermont. Heading to Mt. Ascutney to pick up our race packets, the foliage was gorgeous, the sun was shining through the clouds, and I started crying. The mountains were so high... I'd have to run those... I was cracking under pressure- with all the beauty around me my face was leaking with worry. And I wasn't the only one.

The VT 50 run- it's about family. I crewed My Runner at the VT 50 last year with his Pops. VT 50 is the first ultra My Runner ever did- at the urging of his Pops. 2010 is his 11th year here. Puma had run the 50k twice and was trying for her very first 50 miler. My Runner and Sherpa shared miles here, and Sherpa was here today for what is possibly his final VT run before he and his lovely wife move West.

At Long Trail Brewery, post- first-freakout cry, pre- second.

Pops couldn't make it this year. Depending on the moment it was disappointing and devastating. I was really hoping Pops could meet my Dad and Sherpa and Puma and everyone- we could all share some time. Lil' Bro was supposed to come with Pops, running in a leg of the relay.

As My Runner, Puma, my Dad, his buddy Ed (Dad and Ed and I making up Team Patriot) gathered in the dimly lit tent in the pre-dawn hours on race day, I realized that no matter who was THERE, this race is about family. We run into Sandel and say our hi's, and GillyGirl, who was pulled at mile 47 last year and is back for her vengeance. People who have run with Pops come up to us, recognizing My Runner and tell stories of his Pops. My Dad and I stand around sharing nervous energy. We chat with others who have notable race shirts on. Trail runners- Ultra runners- it's one big, extended family. My mood lightens and it's time to line up at the start.

The Larch. The.... Larch.

Nah... it's a Maple. Or maybe an Oak? Eh. Lookit the pretty leaves!!

I line up with My Runner, Puma, Sherpa, and GillyGirl. We're all hopping about in the blue light before the sun breaks over the horizon. Nervous, excited, ready to go- runners always remind me of horses pawing the ground. You'd think, from TV or something, there'd be some sort of grand send off- a starter gun or a buzzer or something. Nope. Out here in VT it's just some guy shouting "Go!" "Go?" "Did he say go?" "Are we going?" "Yeah! Go!" and we're off.

Puma's running a full 50 miles. I was hoping to share a few of the first miles with her, but she's conserving and she's back a bit not long after the start. I share the first few miles with Sherpa, GillyGirl, and My Runner, chatting, sharing dirty jokes, and belching up breakfast (blueberry bagel with peanut butter anc chocolate Boost... not so good on the way up as the way down...). One thing trail and long-distance runners have above road-runners is the ability to really share the miles- chatting eases the burden of time and lightens the load. I mean, when you're out there for 12ish hours, you gotta talk to SOMEONE, right?

Sherpa runs on ahead. GillyGirl is a bit ahead, but I keep her red skirt in sight on the straight-aways. My Runner hangs back to urge me on. It's hard, but I'm going. The concern of the last few months is gone- too late to worry now. The fastest way out is to finish my 12.3 mile leg. I chat with some others around me. Met a guy from Virginia up in New England for the first time running. A woman who has been leap frogging with me has run this leg of the relay before with a team from work- she's probably 10 years older and 70 lbs heavier, but she's keeping up with me, if not passing me, a lot. I admire her and vow to train my ASS off... sooon... My Runner waits for me every now and then, giving great encouragement and advice.

In a moment of mouth-diarrhia the previous day, I noted that Vermont was a "bumpy" state. On race day, I got to know just HOW bumpy. The hills were HARD- even though I was fast-hiking up them rather than running. Still, looking at my watch I was making great time- getting into aid stations before the time that would mark a 12-minute mile (my super-goal; my realistic goal was 14-minute miles). I was about 3-2 miles from the end of my leg when I started cramping up in my torso on the downhills. I think I was tensing so I wouldn't fall and hurt my ankle again, but man it made breathing hard. I ended up walking a great flat running stretch just to let the cramps subside.

GillyGirl and me heading up one of VT's "bumps"

I got into Skunk Hollow (the 12.3 mile aid station) having done 11:40-ish minute miles. As I came in I saw my Dad, raised my arms up high, and shouted with joy. Seeing his big smile as he snapped a photo was awesome! His leg was next, so I grabbed his jacket and camera, we hugged and high-fived, and he was off. My Runner had grabbed some food and water and was ready to get back out for the rest of his 50 miles, so I gave him a quick kiss and sent him on his way.

Me and My Runner heading into Skunk Hollow.

Please don't sue me. I'd pay for this photo if I wasn't touching my boob by accident.

Team Patriot had a great day. My Dad achieved his goal time for his leg of 19ish miles. He was thoroughly back in love with New England as he finished his leg. The spectacular views from the course and the almost peak foliage combined with a cool clear day would have made ANYONE fall in love with New England. Ed was our ace-in-the-hole, though, passing something like 5-7 relay team runners in his 18 mile leg. I'm a little sad I didn't get to see him finish, but My Runner had asked me to run him in the last 3 miles.

oooOOoooo.... purdy....

As I reunite with My Runner he's thinking he can hit a PR. I'm happy and proud of him. We head up the back of Mt. Ascutney to some truly beautiful trail, and My Runner, who's just run 47 miles, is KICKING MY ASS. I do my best to keep up and not slow him down. He seems happy for the company and wants the time to keep him going. We chat, I pant on the uphills and recover on the downs. We pass a LOT of people- he's shifting into gear.

I feel the downhill cramping but fight through it. As we emerge onto the ski slopes and start doing the backs and forths, My Runner asks, "Is that Sherpa ahead?" I grunt agreement (cramping) and he plans to sneak up and pass him- the finish is about half a mile away. Though I can't see his face, I know all too well the impish (ok, shit-eating) grin on his face... as Sherpa turns shocked to see My Runner there. Smelling blood he kicks it in and zooms down the slope. I know I can't follow at even a respectable speed so I duck out of the course and go straight down the hill, meeting up with My Runner, my Dad, and Ed in the tent near the finish.

My Runner smelling blood. He's ready to kick some ASS!

I managed a smile for this one.

I've reunited with my team. There's a lot of family here, as Mr. and Mrs. Strong have come to watch people finish. Puma's here, having run strong 31 miles before missing a cutoff and being pulled. She seems a bit disappointed, but more so determined to do better next time. We head back to the cars and Dad breaks out some beer for us all to share while we catch up on our experiences and wait for GillyGirl to finish.

In the parking lot sharing some beers I could see how well I really did- and how much I stressed unnecessarily over this run. It drove me forward in my training but I directed energy to worry rather than to powering my body and readying my mind.

VT 50 was WAY outside my comfort zone. But my family had my back. They always had. And while I knew, I didn't really KNOW. Like doing a trust falls, I just had to relax and know that no matter what happened, win or loose, "fail" or not fail, they've got me. I'll never truly fail as long as I keep the love.

What a difference a year makes

2010-09-27T19:11:00.001-04:00

Last year I wasn't a runner.

Last year I was coming out of a truly terrible relationship.

Last year I had no savings and thousands of dollars of debt.

Last year I lived in a funky but dumpy apartment.

Last year I invited my 18-year-old cousin to be my roommate.

Last year I made a decision to follow my heart.

Last year I decided I wanted to be happy.

This past year I've run in 14 races, logging several hundred miles on road and trails.

This past year I've made changes in my budget, working towards greater freedom and personal wealth.

This past year I became a pet owner.

This past year I expanded my family of friends.

This past year I moved to my very own apartment. All on my own.

This past year I opened my heart and life to a man who makes me crazy happy.

This past year I've done things I never thought I'd do.

This past year I've been happy.

Right now. I'm happy.

There are still things I struggle with daily. My job has given me a certain amount of financial freedom, but it also takes a lot of energy to fight the negativity I encounter every day. I've saved a nice chunk of change, but no where near the "3 months of expenses" recommended, never mind play money. I still have debt, although I've been whittling it down. I spend a lot of time away from home, and although I love what I'm doing when I'm out, I wonder why I pay my rent some days.

Still, a year and a half after I asked The Boy to leave, I can honestly say I've never looked back. When he left I made the choice to be happy. That choice led to me really getting into hockey, realizing I needed to be more in shape to play better, jogging to get into shape. I reconnected with friends, and rediscovered what I like about myself. Most importantly, I decided that I did NOT need to compromise what I want for a man or a relationship.

But a decision is just that- a decision. Putting that choice to the test in real life is a different action. So far I've enacted that choice quite well in my personal relationships, though I must admit sometimes I have to work myself up to it. But just like running, one must train and practice to stay in shape.

I'm starting to carry this choice over to my professional life. The financial freedom I've gained allowed me to make the catalystic change of being on my own and independent. It hasn't come without it's problems, and compromising myself has been one of them. As I work to re-draw the lines at my current job, I also search for perhaps a better fit.

What a difference a year makes.

Coming of Age

2010-08-30T09:21:00.000-04:00

Friday night My Runner and I drove up to Merrymeeting Lake in NH to visit with Face, Cap'n Mop, Smarty Pants, and a host of others. We sat around the campfire chatting, eating, and taking in the beautiful views of the lake. Being with my love and friends I've known for decades, I was very content.

Some unspoken consensus had the group head for bed before 10pm that night- they had been staying at the lake house the whole week and were likely tired from meat and booze- and My Runner and I tented out on the lawn. We kept the gorgeous fire going until after 1am, despite having to rise at the crack of dawn to head to an appointment. Chatting, listening to the loons, staring at the lights on the beautiful and huge houses surrounding the shores, we thoroughly enjoyed our relaxing evening.

It started out in the background, but in a moment of silence, my inner-radio turned up the volume. I couldn't believe what song was playing in my head... "Coming of Age." This song has never been played on the radio, and hopefully never will be, but it's the title track the 7th grade musical in which Smarty and I performed. An intellectually complex and emotionally charged- no, it was stupid and obvious exploration of puberty. Which, when you're actually going THROUGH puberty is really, really embarrassing to sing about.

With joy, I realized Smarty was mere yards away (as opposed to being in Ohio, so YAY) so I ran into the house, found Smarty's room where she was still reading. Peeking in, she looked up from her book

Smarty: Yes?

Me: Coming... of AGE! Coming... of AGE! Feeling happyy..... Feeling RAAAAAGE!

Smarty: (head in hands) Oh no... why?.

Me:(evil cackle, runs away)

This silly moment replayed in my head a few times over the weekend. I realized that this was the VERY FIRST play I was ever in, and I almost wasn't even in it. I had auditioned for a speaking role, but my voice was not up to par with the other nasal-singing 13-year-olds in Jr. High. At first, I wasn't even on the cast list. In my typical 7th-grade attitude, I thought "Eff this! It's stupid anyways," and wrote drama club off for good. I'd concentrate on singing (bad idea) and not having food caught in my braces.

Smarty, after a few rehearsals, somehow convinced me that I should just be in the ensemble because it would be fun. I didn't really want to miss two days of Animaniacs a week, but Smarty's a convincing person. So I joined the ensemble as a part of the "In" crowd. In "Coming of Age," the cool kids moved as a singular group, mocking those that were different from them and secretly worried that at any moment they'll get kicked out of the clique- unless they're too unoriginal to think for themselves. We were probably the only "cool" kids that wore black jeans and button-down denim shirts as our "cool kid uniform."

I'm sure I was thoroughly unconvincing as a cool kid. Even with training I'm not sure I could play a cool kid today- not really in my repertoire. Still, it was funny to look back at my very first play (and briefly at my stint as a priest in the wacky Cinderella-esque musical in 8th grade- who ran that silly drama club?). And despite those lack-luster beginnings, I went on to make theatre my major, learning not only about acting and directing, but all aspects of production. I moved on to working as an Education Director at a local theatre, directing shows and teaching classes. I worked closely with a small but well-respected professional theatre company, also directing and acting as well as assisting behind the scenes. Essentially, I came of age.

Back to Basics

2010-08-18T23:21:00.000-04:00

In an attempt to simplify life in several different ways, I'm working to get back to basics.

First, financially. I explored several different cuts in my spending, and the big ones included insurance (thanks My Runner for insurancesavers.com out of Littleton that saved me, seriously, $600/year on the SAME coverage), cable/internet (downgrading to the "economy" internet isn't a big deal when you computer could have a high school reunion coming up), and a change in my tax withholding (no way I owe $10K/year at this point). The long term plan of a combination of saving and paying off debt should be a little easier with some extra change every month.

Smarty is home from school for a few weeks, and there's pretty much nothing I would rather do than spend time with her. And it's highlighted how much I don't MAKE time to spend with people I love. That time is being made, with much delight. Including, but not limited to, a fantabulous girls night this Friday, a baby shower (which was NOT the worst, honestly) and a party hosted by My Runner in which my buddies came up and had a glorious time. Mop even melted a glass beer bottle in the fire pit. I think that experience made the whole night for him. :-)

I'm starting to mount things on the walls of my apartment. Yes, I moved in April... I know I'm decoration-tarded. It's a slow process, and I've already had to fill several holes I incorrectly drilled... but it make my place so much more HOME. I've been going through printed pictures from my "early years" (ie, before digital photography... yes, Virginia, printed photos do exist) and reminiscing. It's a tough choice, what to honor with a place on my wall. Once I get started I might not want to stop...

Face has been working a pretty-much opposite schedule from me, and that's made face-to-Face time difficult. We've got a girls night planned for Friday, and it's pretty much the highlight of my week. Schools coming back, so work has been a bear. I worked a 12-hour day (voluntarily) today, and more are on the horizon, so I'm very much looking forward to some super-friend time at the tail-end of the week.

Also going to a concert with the runner, and possibly with the Strongs, who just finished their Long Trail journey this past week. Great Big Sea is a band brought to my attention by My Runner that I instantly liked. Folky-Irish-y without being the cloying "Irish" band. Not quite "Shipping off to Boston" but not "we make sweaters and our town drunks are hilariously goofy." They're actually from Canada, so more like New England without the "southern" immigrants from NY, MA, and CT. ;-)

So, it's back to the basics of what I love about life: my people. And there's a lot of people to love. I'm so blessed.

No Toof

2010-07-20T21:39:00.000-04:00

Ow.

My face hurts. My head hurts. My jaw and tounge hurt. I can't even let myself think about the new hole in my mouth.

I'll take this oppertunity to say my dentist is a very nice man. He did everything he could to make me feel comfortable and to make th process as quick as possible. Still, looking at the x-ray I could clearly see my tooth lying perpendicular to the rest of my teeth. I won't gross you with the details, but while I felt no pain I did cry at what I imagined was being done. To the point where my dentist told me I was "very brave." (I totally wasn't, but see what I mean about him being nice?

Because I am a r'tard, I bhave not taken tomorrow off of work. I anticipate maximum suffering.

Like I Need a Hole in My Head

2010-07-20T11:42:00.000-04:00

Image from the awesome and weird My Milk Toof

Today I go to the dentist to remove an impacted wisdom tooth. I know most people have had their wisdom teeth removed, but mine have never bothered me, plus I didn't have dental insurance from the age of 18 through 28, so it just never happened. As soon as I started going back to the dentist they began harping on me to get this one tooth removed. They were shocked I haven't had problems with it yet, and told me over and over I was lucky.

If you're not in the know, an impacted tooth, well, in my case at least, is one that's sideways. There are several reasons I haven't done anything about it in the last two years:

1. Because the tooth is sideways, the root with no enamel on it is exposed and can become infected, prompting the need for a root canal (ouch!) But since I've never had issues, I didn't feel it was imperative.

2. This tooth is REALLY close to a major nerve, but the dentist had a hard time getting a good x-ray to figure out HOW close it was. They had recommended going to an oral surgeon to get it removed. This would cost me upwards of $900, depending on if they used local anesthetic only or more.

3. I friggin' hate oral surgery.

My latest cleaning the dentist reminded me yet again I really need to get it removed. THIS TIME, however, he had new information (new to me, at least. He seemed surprised I didn't already know). I can have my tooth removed right here at the dentists office, in an hour, using local anesthetic. With only this tooth removed (the other two are benign or something, I don't know), and not going to a specialist, I should only have to pay a couple of hundred dollars. They can schedule me whenever, so let's get it done.

Well, that knocked two of my three procrastination reasons out of the running, and honestly the third one is the lamest (although it's also the TRUEST.)

So, today I loose a tooth and gain a hole in the head. I'm the opposite of looking forward to this.

Bread Results: Meh...

2010-07-14T21:26:00.000-04:00

This bread certainly came out far more bread-like than the last. It actually rose, though I could have let it rise longer. And had it not been 12:30am by the time I put it in the oven, I would have given it the extra 20 minutes it deserved.

20 more minutes would have allowed the dough to rise over the edges for classic sandwich-bread shape

I could have let it bake for 45 minutes instead of 30, but again, time was a factor.

Mid-bake, and close to 1am

Hey! Bread

So, not baker-extrodinare like I had predicted, but actual and edible bread from this batch. Luckily it only costs about 87cents to make a loaf, so you know I'll be trying again. :-)

PS for your viewing pleasure, Fred being tickled:

In Which I Attempt Baking *Updated w/pics

2010-07-12T14:46:00.001-04:00

Bread is yummy.

Recently my father visited and noticed how much my fridge looks like a bachelor's fridge (contents: beer, condiments, Brita pitcher mostly empty, blocks of cheese, container of suspicious-smelling leftovers). "You don't even have any bread!!" he exclaimed in an appalled manner. When my dad, a bachelor on-and-off for the last 25 years, is yelling at the state of my fridge, I take notice.

So, rather than buying bread when I go to the store (well, other than liquid bread or English muffins), I decided to make it. Because THAT'S easier.

Mmmm... liquid bread

Well, according to Donna Currie of Cookistry it is; by titling her post "The Simplest White Bread Ever," I thought, "Well, I can do simple!" And it is! I already had all the ingredients, it only makes one loaf unlike most recipes, and it doesn't need a stand mixer. SOLD!

My first attempt was a kinda-fail, but that's mostly my fault because I didn't read the recipe closely enough to see that it had an overnight sit in the fridge. I improvised, since I wouldn't be around the next day to bake it, by doing a double rise (I learned this from reading recipes. I read a lot of recipes, but rarely get around to making any of them), guessing on the times and sizing, with real-world experience to back it up. The bread turned out 87% bread-like, but pale, kinda flat, and distinctly yeasty-tasting.

Wah-wah-waaaaaahhhh......

Since nothing blew up and what I made was more like bread than, say, hippopotamuses, I decided to give it another try while actually following the instructions this time.

The dough is currently waiting in my fridge. Hopefully the second go will be fabulous and tasty, and I will discover my latent BAKER talent and everyone will enjoy my scones and pies and dinner rolls at parties and will ask me for recipes and I will say "There is no recipe, I just kind of feel that the dough is right," and those people will feel inadequate for not being a Super Fantastic Baker Extrodinare like me. And then I will take over the world.

PS I will not be apologizing about not posting for over a month. Mostly because I'm pretty sure the only people who read this are peoples I know in real life, and I haven't been blogging because I've been all participating in real life so YOU'RE WELCOME I'M PARTICIPATING IN YOUR LIFE FRIENDS, GOD STOP BUGGING ME ABOUT BLOGGING!!

PPS Ok, so there might have been a bit of transference since I actually do feel guilty for starting yet another project that I haven't finished. In recompense for unjustly yelling at you, my three faithful readers, here is a list of all of the projects I have CURRENTLY started and have not finished. I hope you feel a little better about yourself after reading. You're welcome.

Recovering Pepere Fritz's chair (chair is uncovered and in pieces, with new fabric next to it, in storage. I'm not even deluding myself that I will pick this up again before snow flies.)
Hanging wall art (So far I have put one piece of art *against* a wall. The rest are in a pile *near* a wall. The hanging nails are next to the art. In a week or two I plan to place a hammer next to all of that too. Hopefully the wall gnomes will get the picture and I'll come home to a decorated apartment.)
Find/Print photos for frames (I have a file on my work computer, and a file on my home computer. They have 3 of the same picture, and a few different pictures. I also have some frames, but have not sized them or counted orientation or any of that.)
Hang knife storage & utilize (Magnetic strips ordered from Amazon and delivered to me by my lovely boyfriend, they are now sitting next to the drawer that is slowly destroying my knives while they are stored there.)
Move stuff in storage room from boxes to bins (this is barely started so it doesn't nag at me too much. the bins are empty next to boxes. The stuff in boxes is not in immenent danger. But in the summer it's a consistent 97degrees in my storage, so this won't be done anytime soon.)
Organize bathroom storage (this will never truly be organized until I throw out the ENTIRE BOX of hair and skin product I don't use.)
Blog (there are at least 5 unpublished posts that need minor editing, and 12 more that are outlines or titles.)
Write thank-you cards for Humane Society fund raiser (Yeah, that was like, October. This one will probably never be done.)

Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival- 25k

2010-06-07T10:25:00.000-04:00

We woke up early. My Runner and GB were running the 50k, which started two hours before the 25k. I sat outside with them while they got ready, somewhat awake and alert. Puma was running the 25k, but heading up with the boys to take pictures and fill her time at the festival before the start. We'd convinced Mr. Strong to join us for the 25k, so now four of us (Mrs. too) would be crossing the start at 10am to run 15.6 miles today.

In the car on the way, I realized I had forgotten my team shirt hanging on the clothes line. Between being tired, nervous, and emotionally strained, I started crying. I didn't feel like I could ask to go back for it (even though it was offered) but I didn't want to not represent the team. In the end, it was one of many little moments that my mind made into big huge deals over the weekend.

The weather was getting warmer, and the air was hazy from the fires in Canada. We had run out of sunscreen. Normally I carry several tubes with me, but my car had broken on Thursday before the trip, and in the commotion I had forgotten to transfer everything I needed. With my ghost-like skin, I need sunscreen on a daily basis or I'm likely to turn into a lobster, then shed the entire layer of skin, and remain pale as a ghost. One more thing to worry about, ::plop:: on my plate.

I arrived at the farm with Mr. and Mrs. Strong, and we met up with Puma. Three newbies and a veteran, we bumbled about trying to figure out what we'd need, where things should be put, where were the aid stations, etc. As start time approached, my nerves (oddly) settled. We snapped a few pre-race photos, stashed the camera, and the four of us lined up. Mrs. Strong was pretty adamant about running together, though I know she's a much stronger runner than I am. I told her we'd see, and though I'd appreciate the company I didn't want to hold her up. My main goal was to finish- who knew how long that would take?

Mr. and Mrs. Strong, Puma, and myself

A cowbell sounded the start, and we were off, moving at a trot. The first path is much more narrow than the corral, resulting in everyone crossing the start quickly then slowing as we all try not to bump into each other. Puma pulled ahead of us as Mr. and Mrs. Strong and I stayed together. We kept it an easy pace, chatting with each other.

Like yesterday, the course was beautiful. It was nice to see more of the farm. Aid stations were incredibly well stocked with not only water and food but ibuprofen, sodium tablets, and :: hallelujah:: sunscreen. By the time we were really out, all my nerves had calmed. I was feeling good, the Strongs were running at about my pace, and we were having a great time.

As we reached the 5k mark, handily noted for us by a sandwich board on the course, I realized I was feeling much better today than yesterday. I attributed part of that to the company, and part of it to the "warm up" of running yesterday. I realized I still had a long way to go; I didn't want to put the cart before the horse.

We caught up with Puma at some point before 10k, ran with her a bit, and eventually passed, though she stayed pretty close behind us for the rest of the run. My Runner and GB were on the same course as us, doing 2 loops to make the 50k, and we finally crossed paths at the "Yurt" aid station, which the course hits three times. They were looking great well into their second loop, and it was awesome to get the chance to pass along well wishes.

The Strongs and I stuck together the whole run. There had been the usual "you don't have to wait for me" and "run your own race" mutterings, I think we were all happiest for the company. We spoke of many things (fools and kings), including upcoming hikes, family (good and bad), the run itself, potential future outings, trips to Portsmouth, and Coffee Talk with Linda Richmand. For some reason, this classic Mike Myers character captivated Mr. Strong and myself- we passed probably 5 miles with impersonations.

Our spirits were definitely high. Our bodies, however, had other ideas. Mrs. Strong had been suffering from shin splints as a result of her 10k jaunt the day before. Mr. Strong's knees were starting to have issues around the 15k mark, and ibuprofen wasn't keeping up with it. I was just plain tired, and my feet felt like they were mincemeat. We ran the last third of the race much slower than the first third, though despite her shin splints Mrs. Strong lived up to her name and was ready to kick ass and take names. Mr. Strong urged us on. We would run forward, waiting for him at aid stations or walking through a nice shady area. I can't say I minded the pace. I suppose we could have kept running, leaving Mr. Strong on his own, Mrs. Strong leaving me in the dust, but we had spent the last 3 hours together talking, working through our highs and lows, enjoying the day, activity, and company. Why would I run away from that? For a 10 minute earlier finish time? Whatever. Any finish got me a cowbell- I'd rather we crossed together as a symbol of our journy.

And that we did. 3:43:10 for all of us. Three way hug, cowbells received, Mrs. Strong sat Mr. Strong down to rest his knees and brought him some restorative brew from Smutty Nose. I had seen Puma in the field before we finished, so I knew she wasn't far behind. I waited at the finish line, and sure enough there she comes, 3:49:47, looking strong.

Having started two hours before us, I knew My Runner and GB wouldn't be much father behind us. I ran (yes, literally, after running 15.6 miles) to the car to get the camera for post-race pictures, meeting up with the rest of our camping group in the process. I was hoping to meet up with my runner in the grove before the finish and run in with him. I handed the camera to Puma and walked into the shady grove, scrutinizing every runner in a whit shirt, white visor, and dark shorts.

As I waited, an older runner walked into the grove having a hard time. Suddenly he stopped, grabbing his thigh- he was cramping up. I walked over to him and offered my assistance- salt tabs? ibuprofen? water? food? I shifted to crew mode in .02 seconds. He was so close to the finish... or so I thought. He was running the 50 MILE! He had one more loop to complete! This guy had to be in his 60's, maybe older. Even though he was struggling I was thoroughly impressed by this man. He politely declined my offers, thanked me for my assistance, and explained he'd been cramping since finishing his first loop. We walked together as we chatted, and when we emerged from the grove he felt well enough to run a little. I wish I had gotten his name or race number so I could follow up with his results.

The boys came in shortly after that. As they crossed the road into the grove I fell in step with them and started talking with my runner, ready to run in with him. GB had other ideas, challenging My Runner to a sprint to the finish. I knew I didn't have that power, so I walked behind them, glad I gave Puma the camera to catch their finish.

We grabbed beers, chatting with some other runners from the area, and basked in the sunshine. With all my nerves and emotional ups and downs, I didn't even stop to think that this was the longest distance I had run to date. I was happy with my finish time, and had a great time running with the Strongs. My ankle felt great, and I was excited to start a training schedule and get back out there with My Runner.

Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival- 5k

2010-06-04T10:11:00.000-04:00

Saturday promised to be a beautiful, if warm, day. Five of us piled into Puma's car to head to Pineland Farms for the Saturday events: 10k, 5k Canicross, 5k, and Barefoot 5k. We'd have representation in all but the Canicross, a 5k run with your doggie. Puma, having just come off a 5 day through hike, would be taking the day off and enjoying the festival.

Me, Mrs. Strong, My Runner, and GB (photo by Puma- thx!)

And festival it was! Tents with food, beer, free-bees, and music were spread out in the grove on campus. Farmland, mostly hay fields, rolled out around us, inter-spaced with shady wooded areas. There were dogs a-plenty, some ready to race, some just kickin' around. Start and finish for all races were in this grove.

Mrs. Strong was participating in the 10k, starting an hour before the other events, and we got her registered and in line just in time. Thank goodness the race started late! Since the Muddy Moose where she ran 14 miles for the first time, Mrs. Strong has been running with her neighbor and, while rushed to get started, seemed very confident in her abilities.

Mrs. Strong, putting her sneakers on at the starting line

Shortly after the 10k, the Canicross event started. I think they wanted all the poochies off the course when the other 5k events begin. It was fun to see all the different kind of dogs that were running. From huge labs to tiny terriers, just about every type of dog was represented. Personalities of the dogs matched the owners, as the elite runners moved to the front, and their competitive dogs barked, jumped, and pranced.

Canicross start. That little pup almost got hisself CHOMPED.

The 5k start was next. I'm the only one participating in this, with My Runner and GB both participating in the Barefoot 5k, starting 10 minutes after mine. This is the first run I've done in 6 weeks. Other than one hockey game and a couple of workout videos, I haven't moved since April 24th, the day I tore my left ankle to shreds. My goal was to finish uninjured and see if I would be able to participate in tomorrow's 25k.

::Hugs::

My Runner sees me to the starting line. I'm nervous, but ready to get out there. I feel good, despite the MASSIVE hangover I woke up with. My ankle is in check, and as long as I don't space out, I should be able to run these trails without falling.

I am SO. OUT. OF. SHAPE. I walked about 30% of the race. Running alone isn't my favorite, but not many folks were into chatting. Still, the scenery was pretty, and I was focused on scanning the trail for potential hazards. The elite runners in the barefoot start passing me just before mile 2, and as the course folds back in on itself I see My Runner and GB.

Waving and smiling, all I could think was, "don't let them catch you." That motivated me. That and trying not to get my picture taken while I was walking (fail, see below)

See that ripped dude behind me? Yeah, he's running. Not this girl.

Still, they were a bit behind, and I was getting winded. I "ultra walked" the hills to conserve and catch my breath. Then I'd walk the flats.... that was an ego blow. Chatting with another 5ker who was not used to hills helped pass the time, but as more and more Barefooters passed me, and as I got closer to the finish line, I kicked it in gear (not high gear- don't have that one right now... just not neutral). Finished the race in 34:38.

Mrs. Strong had come in shortly after I started at 1:05:28- an excellent time. The Barefooters came in 26:09/10, yes, less than 2 minutes behind me. Was happy to catch this bit of action:

Boys....

In my good days, an 11 minute mile would have made me sad. Saturday, I was happy to have finished feeling good, and even happier that Smuttynose had sponsored the race, offering unlimited free beer to runners. I still wasn't sure participating in the 25k was a good idea, but it was at least still an option.

Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival- Preview

2010-05-28T11:08:00.000-04:00

This Memorial Day weekend I'm heading up to Maine with a group of friends to camp and participate in the Pineland Farms Trail Running Festival. I'm scheduled to run a 5k (3.1 mi) on Saturday at a 25k (15.5 mi) on Sunday. This will be the first time I've run since I re-sprained my ankle on April 24th. You know, the 5k run that was killing me because I was out of shape? Yeah, that one.

I know I'm not in shape at all for these runs. My ankle isn't 100% (best I can tell it's 80-90%, but it hasn't really been tested yet). I should be able to jog the 5k in 45 minutes, and I have 9 hours to finish the 25k. You'd have to average 35 minute miles to but up against that deadline. With my ankle in a brace, I could walk 15.5 miles and finish well under the cutoff time- something I may do.

I'm chomping at the bit to get back to running. Feeling my body morph from lean and fit to soft over the last few weeks has been pretty demoralizing. The weather has been beautiful, but I've yet to be able to play outside. I have plans for long hikes and a few other races this summer, including relaying the VT 50 with my dad, and I'd like to be healthy and ready to take them on. Healthy, of course, is a combination of being physically fit enough for the challenges and having strength back in my ankle.

So, I will "run" these two races this weekend. I WILL be careful. I'm not looking to set speed records here. I'm thinking of it as dipping my toe in the pond, testing the waters. How will my ankle hold up? My body? How sore will I be? What do I need to focus on when I restart my training? What type of cross-training will help strengthen my weak spots?

No matter what the results of my "testing" are, this weekend promises to be fun. A good reminder as we memorialize loved ones that life goes on, and the best way to remember those that are gone is to enjoy our lives to the fullest, as they would have wanted for us.

Hockey Revival

2010-05-26T08:47:00.000-04:00

Monday night I played hockey for the first time in 6 weeks. I wore the ankle brace Mrs. Strong lent me, and I brought my game. My ankle did ok- it was a little swollen by the end of the night, but the indoor rink was clocking in at about 85 degrees and I blame the heat as much as the usage.

Boy am I out of shape. I huffed and puffed up and down that rink. My soul was yearning to play, so I worked through my "exhaustion," but I can tell I have a lot of work to do to get back to where I was.

"Elevating my ankle" at a Hood Park game

HOWEVER. The last 6 weeks I've been watching hockey. A LOT of hockey. Nerd Herd games, roller hockey at the Hood Park Hockey League, NHL finals... Damn, I'd watch peewee hockey if I was standing next to it. And I think the watching really improved my skill. I watched the mistakes we made over and over. I saw how good plays were set up, and how to foil a play the other team is making. It was proven empirically, over and over, that just taking shots will eventually work; no need to get all fancy.

Before my injury, I'll admit, I was getting tired of hockey. I felt like my team was out of joint and disconnected, that I was playing poorly, and that it was taking up time I could be doing other things. 6 weeks of watching has cured me! Monday's game lit the fire in my belly. I feel like I played positionally pretty well, even managing to get a few shots on net.

I still have plenty of room for improvement. I've got to start running again soon, or at least doing cardio so my body is in shape for sprinting. I still need to work on my basic hockey skills like stick handling and catching passes. I'm feeling the motivation to improve- finally.... something I've been missing from my life for a while.

FIVE WHOLE DAYS?!?!***

2010-05-25T10:50:00.002-04:00

*** Not really anymore. Family emergency caused My Runner to change plans. If I actually pre-planned these things, this would have been up in proper timeline order.

My Runner is through-hiking the Monadnock-Sunapee Greenway over the course of this week with Puma. He's done this trail before with Mr. Strong, and they had such a wonderful time that Mr. Strong is taking his wife on the Long Trail this summer. My Runner's taking a break from the cubicle farm and getting some time in the woods.

One one hand, I'm happy he's able to recharge. Boy does he need it. And the weather this week, though a little warm, will otherwise be perfect. On the other hand, I'm green with envy. I wish I could be out there now, soaking up nature and taking a break from being told what to do.

Ok, gonna dig a little deeper and reveal that I'm jealous too. He's out there with Puma. Not with me. Not alone. Not with Mr. Strong. Jealousy isn't a pretty emotion, and I don't like that I feel it, but hiding it away doesn't help. I'm not worried that anything "untoward" would happen. There's no basis in reality for my feelings. That doesn't mean I don't feel them.

Actually, it was worse in the days leading up to their setoff date. Come Monday morning when they're both packed up and ready to go, I feel fine. Sad that I have to go to work, worried that My Runner is still sick and hacking up lungs, but not jealous. It still pings a bit here and there, but on the whole, I think that childish part of me had it's moment, and grown up me can prevail.

My Runner and Puma will always be friends. I like Puma, she's a nice girl. So, how do I deal with these occasional ugly feelings? The plan? Let them out. I think if I say it out loud, the reality of the situation will take the legs out from underneath the pettiness, and in the harsh light of day these fears will have no control over me.

What do you think? How do you deal with what you feel are your petty emotions?

MMT 100- Crew Report

2010-05-20T14:46:00.000-04:00

Entrance to Caroline Furnace Camp

We arrived at Caroline Furnace Camp in Fort Valley, VA in time for the pre-race meeting. The race director reiterates all the important stuff from the website and points out important people. The runners grab their race packets, we get some grub and set up camp. It's 8pm by the time we roll into our sleeping bags, but since the alarm went off at 3am, we're ready for bed. My very chivalrous Runner gives me the sleeping pad- I feel like a wimp accepting, but he won't take no for an answer. Only later do I realize he knows he's not going to get any sleep anyways: his mind already running the miles ahead.

The alarm goes off at 4am, giving us enough time to put on clothes and eat breakfast before the start of the race at 5am. My Runner and Ultra Dad pose for a few photos, line up with the other 180 runners, and with a shout, they're off. We had briefly gone over the plan the night before, and someone had mentioned it would be 9am before they arrived at the first Aid Station (AS) with crew access, Edinburg Gap. 4 hours to go 11 miles seemed a little slow, but perhaps they knew something about the terrain that I didn't. Kiddo and I head back to camp to catch some z's. We planned to arrive around 8-ish so we would have time to get a good spot but not have to wait too long.

Kiddo and I got to Edinburg Gap at 8:15am. There were about 7 people standing around. We unloaded the Binto Bar (a pack the size of a Rubbermaid tote), the camp chair and the cooler, and settled in. Someone asks if the last runner has come through yet... oh shit... CREW FAIL! Checking with the volunteer in charge of timing, I find we missed them by mere minutes. I try to keep my voracious swearing under my breath, but I'm beating myself up. My one responsibility and I fail at it. I'll be damned if I miss them at another AS.

My Runner and Ultra Dad coming in to Edinburg Gap. Thanks random photog for catching my missed moment.

The next AS we could be at was mile 32, Elizabeth Furnace. I estimated a 10-minute mile, knowing that even feeling good they wouldn't go faster than 12-minute miles. But the sun was shining, the air was warm, and I would rather be way early than miss them AGAIN. I had no idea what they might have needed at the first AS that I wasn't there to provide- blister prevention, Gu, sun screen, bug spray... The stations were well stocked with food, water, and Gatorade, so I knew they wouldn't be hungry or thirsty. I didn't know if My Runner would be fuming that I wasn't there or worried that something happened to us. (The second. He's a nice guy. I was fuming at myself.)

Crewing is a "hurry up and wait" activity. We got to Elizabeth Furnace about 3 hours before the guys showed up. I put on sun screen, moved the stuff closer and closer to where the runners come in, chatted with folks, and generally hopped around anxiously. Kiddo did his best to amuse himself without phone or internet, which was kind of a stretch for him. He IS thirteen after all.

Temps were high and the guys were wilting as they came in. Food, water, sun screen, cold Boost and iced tea, refill on Gu, and a bit of a rest. Kissed My Runner and they were off. Not long before we'd see them again- 5 miles later at Shawl Gap. Of course in those 5 miles they'd be going 1000 feet up, AND 1000 feet down.

Check the elevation change between #5 and #6.

I'm telling you, this terrain was beautiful, but RUGGED. Ever driven on the Kancamagus Highway in NH through the Whites? Yeah, something like that. I mean, I've run 5 miles under an hour, but that was in friggin' Lowell. These 5 miles took two experienced and strong runners just under 2 hours to tackle. Ultra Dad came in strong, but My Runner was downtrodden. I shared words of encouragement from Sherpa, who had called when I miraculously had service. They were in and out at Shawl Gap and ready to move on. Good thing- as much as I love hanging out with my honey, time at an AS is time wasted.

After a not-so-brief trip to Wal Mart where Kiddo and I ostensibly picked up supplies for our runners, but really were just killing time and grabbing dinner, we headed to Habron Gap, mile 53. The scenery on the drives was breathtaking. The sun was setting and the guys hadn't taken headlamps with them. Too heavy to carry 20 miles, but useful to, you know, see when it's dark. The runners come in to Habron on a wide gravel road, so at least it was a safe(ish) place to not be able to see your footing. My Runner came in feeling pretty good sometime between 8 and 9pm, having gotten a second (or third, or thirtieth) wind now that the temps dropped with the night. He asked how close to the cut-off he was (each aid station will pull runners if they arrive after a certain time), and I tell him he's got a bit more than 2 hours. The Reaper is chasing them, but not too closely.

He was about 10 minutes ahead of Ultra Dad, who came in dragging. Kiddo was psyched up because Ultra Dad had been talking about him pacing the guys, ie, stepping in and running some miles with them; a true Team Robert. Kiddo's not a runner, but he does bike and swim competitively, and I think getting the chance to "help" on this run really inspired him.

But Ultra Dad was done. He had dehydrated, and that messed up his feet and his back (so many crazy things happen as a result of dehydration in these endurance sports...) I could see in his posture he had given up. Finally My Runner had to head out- he had stayed way too long. Kiddo pleaded, whined, goaded, enticed, I even through a few carrots up for him, but to no avail. Ultra Dad was done at 53.6 miles.

I knew this could be tough on My Runner mentally and emotionally. He started running Ultras BECAUSE of his dad. They were a team. I'd get to break the news to him in 10 miles at Camp Roosevelt, by which time he had already guessed.

We're now well after midnight, and I'm bushed. I haven't even run today, but hauling gear to and from the truck, anxiously awaiting the runners, listening to a 13-year-old prattle on about energy drinks and video games... it's enough to tranquilize a horse. I gave Ultra Dad some time to pull himself together after running 53 miles, we drop another runner off at the start/finish whose blisters have taken him out of the race, and head to the next AS. I help the guys setup at the AS and take 20 minutes to snooze in the camp chair before beginning my AS ritual of restlessly pacing around. My Runner is in pain. He's gone through all his water, he's got a rash, he's tired. I give him what his body needs, then I try to give him what his spirit needs. Rubbing his back I encourage him to go on. Kiddo is ready to pace My Runner, and I think that helps seal the deal; he's ready to keep moving. Gap Creek is only 5 miles away, but just like the other short leg, it's a CLIMB. 1450 ft up, 1000 ft down.

Gap Creek is the most festive AS I've seen. Christmas lights line the trails. Acoustic covers of well known songs are playing. The station is serving pancakes, bacon, and eggs along with other standard AS fare. There's a fire pit where folks have gathered around, dozing. Runners sleepily clamber in, for it's now just before 4am; they've been at it for almost 23 hours. The course comes through here twice: once at 68.7 miles, and again at 95.4. We see some of the leaders coming in for their second round- these folks might still make 100 miles under 24 hours. There's a cot near the tents where runners can catch a quick nap- might be all they need to regain the strength to keep coming.

Ultra Dad and I pass some time chatting, but soon we're both nervously waiting at the trail head where the 68 milers are coming in. We can watch the headlamps of the runners as they descend the incline into the AS. They're so high up they look like fireflies in the sky. As My Runner and Kiddo come in around 4:20am, I can hear Kiddo yakking away. I pity My poor Runner and hope Kiddo has been more of a help than a hindrance. As he comes in, he asks how close he is to cutoff. "One hour," I told him, and I watched him deflate. Without admitting it, without him saying a word, without him consciously making a decision, I could see he was done. He took time before admitting what his body had already decided. Doing the math over and over in his head, factoring in the pain he was in, he realized there was no way he'd make the finish before the 36 hour cutoff. He relinquished his number to the AS volunteer, signaling his official dropout. 68.7 miles in exactly 24 hours.

Some runners view a DNF (Did Not Finish) as a black mark, a scourge. Some see it as a challenge to try again next year. I think My Runner is at peace with his decision. I'm proud of him for the hard miles he ran. The man barely trained, was (unknowingly) battling a chest cold, and ran for 24 hours, 68.7 rugged-ass miles.

I've written before about my love of crewing, and this race was no different. I wish I hadn't missed the first AS, but luckily the guys weren't in much need and if there were any to miss, it was that one. Hopefully I made up for it by being as prepared as possible with fuel for their bodies and their hearts. Having to focus so intensely on someone else's needs is oddly freeing, almost meditative. I'm able to push my own issues aside and trivialize my personal traumas, leaving room for a kind of calmness. I wonder if this is how my mother feels when she's nursing...

The Finisher's Belt Buckle

My Runner and I talked about next year on the ride home. Would he come back for another attempt? Would Ultra Dad? What does he want from Massanutten? A finisher's buckle? Time with his father? These questions are still unanswered, but My Runner did quote, "The will to finish means nothing without the will to train."

Massanutten Mountain Trail Race- Crew Preview

2010-05-14T09:56:00.000-04:00

We're somewhere in upstate NY heading down to Virginia once again- this time with My Runner's pop Ultra Dad and his half brother Kiddo. The MMT is a 100 mile race in the mountains of VA, which My Runner attempted for the first time last year. While Ultra Dad has completed MMT before, the course has been re-routed this year keeping it fresh even for veterans.
Initially the plan was to crew with Kiddo for the first 63 miles, then if needed jump in and pace. Since my ankle has been bum, Ib obviously haven't been running, never minding training to pace.
Not being able to pace has been the biggest disappointment of this injury. It was one of my goals this year, and had I stayed innjury-free I could have acheived it.
On the bright side, I'm very much on the mend. Mrs. Strong lent me a bracer the I canuse walking or sporting, and wearing it has helped. And because I'm stubborn, I brought my running gear.
Crewing for the two guys should be interesting. The weather is supposed to be lovely tomorrow, which is great since the majority of the drive down has been in pouring rain on crappy roads with old wind sheild wipers. I'm actually looking forward to the crewing experience again. Sorta like my Mom once desceibed working in the ER: hours of nothing interrupted by a few minutes of crazy.
Kiddo seems like a good kid, though I'm thoroughly UN-versed in the interests of thirteen-year-old boys. So far I've learned he has a love/hate relationship with his iPhone, changes the parts on his mountain bike often, and his very favoritest thing is Dunkin' Donuts White Hot Chocolate. Go figure.

Investment

2010-05-11T09:55:00.001-04:00

from toothpastefordinner.com

Lately (ok, for a while now), I haven't really had any investment in my job. While the paycheck and the hours are good, I'm not putting a lot into it because I don't feel like I get rewarded for working hard. So I spend my time hardly working, or doing the minimal, then get frustrated when deadlines appear out of nowhere and I have a million things to do on a Friday.

This weekend I was visiting my cousins at my aunt's house and one of them (who successfully operates a local outlet of a national insurance company) asked me about my job. I don't like to talk about my job because I don't enjoy it and I don't want to sound like a complainer. So I said something like, "Eh, it's a job." She's not one to be put off, however, and pressed for further information. The more I got into it, the more she pointed to what I could do to change what I didn't like.

What? It's not MY fault that I don't get merit-based raises. That I do the work of 2-3 people. They'd NEVER hire another person to take responsibilities. Despite my negative attitude, she carried on, suggesting methods I could use to prioritize my work and prove that other functions of my job are wasteful. Her point, which I finally came around to (god I'm stubborn about advice) was that even if nothing changed, I would learn skills necessary for position advancement here or elsewhere, and if I did decide to leave after all that, I could explain in detail the work that I did to improve the operation. I would leave with a legitimate reason. If I left now, the best I could say is that it's too much work- not the makings of a great candidate for anything, really.

I hate to admit when I'm wrong, especially when it means that I was ALSO lazy and irresponsible... but I'm wrong. I've been using childish excuses to hate my job. Spending 9 hours a day shirking responsibility isn't really the best use of my time. I may never LOVE my job, and that's ok, but that doesn't mean I can't spend the work day growing as a person. It's better than spending 9 hours a day surfing the internet and complaining. That's what half the people do here, and I detest them for it. I don't want to be that.

So, if it's all about goals and expectations, what are those for me? My long-term goal is to make a case for this position to advance to the level of "Director" instead of "Coordinator." This would allow for a salary increase based on pay scale and the elevation in title would translate better when looking for other jobs. It would also make a case for having another position, even if it's part time, in the department. My short-term goal is to accomplish my work within deadlines. This is more of an attitude adjustment- to actually DO work rather than put it off.

My expectations are to get out of this job what I put into it. Minimal effort will equal minimal satisfaction. I already know I'm not motivated on a day-to-day basis by a paycheck (though I am motivated to do a minimal amount to keep GETTING a paycheck). I know when I have a good day and accomplish a lot I do feel a sense of satisfaction and ::gasp:: fulfillment. I can't expect a merit-based raise, a bonus, or other financial reward. With my current management, even a pat on the back is rare.

The key to all of this is motivation. What's going to motivate me at the end (or the beginning, or the middle) of the day to do work that I don't really find enjoyable? Being able to cross a task off a list? eh. I'm not a big "list maker;" I'll make a list and then never look at it. A vague sense of satisfaction? That'll last maybe a day. Knowing that, long term, I'm doing the right thing? Ha! Have you MET me?? So, this is what I'm missing. What will KEEP me motivated? By nature I'm lazy (even though I hate that about myself, I know it to be true). My work ethic is sub-par, and I hate feeling like someone else is telling me I have to do things. Because, you know, I'm 10.

Trying to keep my goals and expectations in mind will help. But other than that, I'm not sure how to stay motivated. I know I don't want to use food or purchases as reward (since being fat and poor also won't make me happy). How do you stay motivated at work, or doing tasks you hate? If you're a "worker," what is it about completing the task that makes you feel so good?

Personality Sponge- Soak it Up

2010-05-03T16:25:00.000-04:00

A friend recently made a comment that when I'm seeing someone I take on their personality and do whatever that person likes to do. And to a certain extent this is true. But is it a bad thing?

It's true that I wasn't really "a runner" before I met My Runner. I was, however, running as warmup for hockey. Since I've been with My Runner not only did I dive headlong into the world of running I also rediscovered my love for hiking and being in the woods. This same friend once asked me if I actually like running, or if I just do it because My Runner is doing it. It's a good question. I'm a social person, so I like running MORE when I'm running with someone. I'm also not very disciplined, so if no one else I know is running, I'm likely to not run. Currently, almost everyone I know that runs I've met through My Runner, so it's hard to say if I'm running *because* of My Runner. I know I do enjoy it. I love spending time with these people, challenging myself, and having new experiences.

As you know I also play hockey. Why? Because of Cap'n Mop. I NEVER would have picked up a hockey stick if it weren't for knowing him. And if Cap'n Mop moved far far away, I'm not entirely sure I would maintain my hockey playing. I love the game, it's fun to play in a team sport, but I'm really there because my friends are there. It's pretty parallel to me running with My Runner.

So, when does this move from expanding my interests to abandoning my personality? I've put all theatre on hold. My "home improvement" project recovering a chair has been on the sidelines for months now. Even the books I'm reading have been running books. New items in my home and wardrobe are purchased with the idea that I can use them outside when running or hiking.

These changes have all been conscious decisions. I don't regret them, and I thought long and hard before making my choices (ok, not THAT long and hard about the chair project, but still...) Activities are not what defines me. What defines me is my interactions with the world and the people in my life, and that hasn't changed. Perhaps the amount of time I spend with people has changed as I've met new friends, but I still love my friends and family from the bottom of my heart and with incredible loyalty. I still strive to enjoy all the moments I get to share with people in this life. THAT'S what defines me, not what I do, but how I do it.

Have I soaked up personalities along the way? Yes. And I'm happy to do that. It's part of what makes me who I am.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!?!

2010-04-29T09:47:00.001-04:00

I did it again. I broke myself. Again.

Three weeks ago I rolled my left ankle at the Tuesday Night NHSSC Hockey finals. It hurt, I had to walk around the track, but I was still able to finish the game. I gave it a few days, then started taping it and was back to running and hiking. Last Saturday, the morning of the move, My Runner, Puma Girl, and I ran in a 5K trail run hosted by EMS. It was hard- I hadn't been training much and boy was I feeling it. The trail was primarily uphill for the first part of the course, and it was taking the mickey out of me. I realized I should probably slow down when my tunnel vision prevented me from seeing a root, which I then tripped on and fell flat on the ground. No worries, brushed my self off and kept going, albeit at a slower pace.

At the top of the hill My Runner was waiting for me. (Puma Girl was battling her own owies, so she took it slow.) I was tired, so it was nice to have the company. The view was beautiful at the top of the hill, and My Runner's chatting with me about training etc. We were running downhill, and I was starting to feel better. I had the clarity in my brain to begin thinking about a training schedule, since I have a 25K (15.5mi) trail run coming up at the end of May, not to mention the possibility of pacing My Runner at Massenutten, so I shoul-

::Insert epic fall here::

I don't know if I tripped over anything. I think my left foot came down on an uneven surface, and I felt the ankle start to roll. Normally I would have just gone with it and it would have been fine, but since the ankle was already hurt, I then felt the pain of tearing, my ankle rolled further, and I went all the way down, rolling into the brush on the side of the trail. And of course I was bawling. I was feeling intense pain, but also rage and frustration. I knew this was a bad injury. I wasn't going to be able to walk it off.

It took a long time to calm down. The longer the pain was intense, the worse I felt emotionally. Most people were lovely and expressed concern when they passed. The Run Director stopped and checked in on me; she was so concerned. I hiked about a mile out, first on My Runner's shoulder, then on Puma Girl's when she caught up to us and My Runner went to get the car.

That was last Saturday. After the sprain, I shopped around EMS for an hour or so (what? they were having a great sale!), iced it on the way to Manch, and MOVED (with the generous help of My Runner, My Parents, and some friends). I tried to be brave and I tried to help, but I was in a lot of pain the whole day.

It's 6 days later and I'm still in pain. It's better. It's healing. But there's still a good amount of swelling. I have bruising halfway up my calf and down into my foot. Unpacking last night left me limping again. I keep it wrapped most of the time and ice it on and off throughout the day. Had to bail from a wicked fun sounding 5K this Sunday, and needless to say that training schedule I was working on when I fell has been tabled.

Most of the time I'm level headed about it. I realize that there's nothing I can do but do my best to help it heal. Stay off it as much as possible, don't get back to running or hiking too soon. Sometimes I get caught in the pit of despair, though. I start thinking about the events I've committed to, and especially as the weather gets nicer how much I want to be outside running or hiking. I think of how "behind" I am in training. I feel my waistline expanding as my caloric burn reduces but my eating habits don't change.

I fell into the downward spiral this past Monday after watching my team play hockey without me. My Runner noticed, and quoted me to me: "Don't let something you can't change ruin a perfectly good night." I hate it when My Runner outsmarts me with... me. But, at least I still end up being "right." :-) I'm trying to heed my advice this time and not get too down about being injured. It sucks, but why should I let that ruin my life? It's not forever.

A Shiny New Home

2010-04-23T08:32:00.001-04:00

Tuesday night I got the keys to the Promised Land.

That's what I call my new apartment. The place itself isn't any bigger- in fact, except for the second full bathroom (I know, right?) it's probably smaller. Still, everything is in great condition, the building is nice and quiet, partking is plentiful, and crime rates are super low. I met Maintanence Andy to go through the place and make sure everything was in order, and found out he actually lived in the same building. He mentioned the insulation is good so he never hears his neighbors, and that most of the old people (which is about 40% of the building's population) take the good parking spots in front of the building near the elevator.

While I've been excited to get out of my crappy neighborhood, up to this point I haven't been really excited about the new space. And no one actually LIKES moving stuff. But standing in my new home, a cold Sam Adams in one hand and a new set of keys in the other, I felt it.

Deciding where things go is an intimidating chore for me. My spacial memory is not great, so just because in my brain my couch would fit in a certain spot doesn't mean it will in reality. I have a general idea of what rooms furniture will go in, but how they will be arranged? I think I'll just have to do that on the fly.

Also, I'm pretty sure I have way too much furniture. My current (old?) place has a pretty big floorplan (was able to fit THREE couches in the living room) whereas the new space is a little more... conservative. Luckily, I have a HUGE storage space, and it's not even through a creepy-ass basement!*

I'm getting that "fresh start" feeling. It's like, Ultra-Spring Cleaning. I've purged a lot since I'd really rather not move crap I never use, and I know I'll purge even more when unpacking. It's exciting and scary to be the only one on the lease- a place that's mine and mine only. Ok, it's not like I OWN it, but it's my own responsibility to maintain it and pay for it. I feel like I'm finally ready for this.

*My current building is an old Catholic school built in the late 1800's. The foundation is stone, and in order to get to the storage rooms in the basement you must first walk through the dimply lit old offices with warped wood panel, the creepy echo-y hallway, into a room I call the "pit" since it's not unlike the pit of despair with one bare bulb lighting it, THEN into the catacombs where the storage spaces are. I try to never go down there alone.

A Walk in the Woods

2010-04-21T08:31:00.000-04:00

Saturday I went on a brief hike in Fox Forest with My Runner and our friends the Strongs. The Strongs are hiking the Long Trail in VT for 30 days this summer, so we're testing new gear and getting some miles in together. My Runner and I will be hiking in a bit here and there during their trip.

It was rainy and much colder than it's been the last few weeks, but I was so happy to be outside it didn't matter. Well, proper rain gear and the absence of a pack helped. The Strongs brought their dachshund Seamus, who was pretty rugged for the 5 mile hike in the rain. My Runner had started cleaning up some of the trails in Fox (ok, I helped a *little*), and it was very obvious what was worked on and what still needs work.

Ridge Trail in Fox Forest

The Strongs are a great couple. My Runner and Mr. Strong met in college and have been friends since. Both Mr. & Mrs. Strong are athletic, mainly backpacking and doing yoga. They work in high-stress jobs in the high-stress state of Massachusetts, so the fact that they're very laid back people with open minds and hearts is even more amazing. Spending the morning hiking with them gave me great joy.

Being the busy social bee I am, that afternoon I drove to northern NH for a reunion of an outdoor adventure class I took as a senior in High School. This is the course that gave me the (small amount of) knowhow and confidence to do things like backpacking, hiking, and other outdoor activities. It was great to see people I had such intense experiences with over ten years ago, and how much we still had in common. It was also great to see Coach, our teacher, again. Coach MADE this class. Literally and figuratively. He still teaches in, in a slightly different form at a different school, but the class is by him and will likely die when he retires. You could call it a cult of personality, but I think it's his sheer drive and love for what he does. Not just outdoor education, but self-education. I learned more about me, about what I can do and accomplish, about my limits and the limitations I put on myself, in that one class in one year than I had the first 18 years of my life. And I was happy to get the chance to tell Coach that, even at (almost) 30 I still feel the effects of his coaching every day.

Group Photo. Coach is the tall guy in the back

Back to Hillsboro where My Runner and the Strongs were partying down. The next morning hailed a race: the Muddy Moose. For me and Mr. Strong, a 4 miler. For My Runner and Puma Girl, 14 miles. Mrs. Strong piped up during the partying-down, "I could run the 14 miler." HELLS YEAH was the unanimous response, even though she had never run more than 7 miles. We all went to bed too late and with too much beer in our bellies.

The next morning arrived EARLY. The clouds were still hanging low, but the temps were warmer than the predicted 30's and 40's; thank goodness for small blessings. We loaded into the cars four an hour plus drive to the muddiest trails I've seen.

Running 4 miles felt like 10 on these trails. You could run extra lengths and bushwhack through the trees to avoid the mud and puddles, or you could dive right in and hope you don't turn your ankle on a hidden rock or stump. Either way you were gonna get wet and dirty. I chose for option number 2 most of the time, but boy does that take a LOT of energy. Each foot had an extra pound or so from sand and water. You never know how deep you're gonna go, so you land harder on every step. You're constantly ready to loose your balance, so all your stabilizer muscles are on alert. I've never had more fun on a race! I wish I hadn't been nursing an ankle, I totally would have gone for the 14 miler (and probably died in the process, but died smiling!)

Playing in the mud

Mrs. Strong DID do the 14, and kicked it's muddy ass!

Mrs. Strong, living up to her name

After the race, changing into dry socks, shoes, and clothes, we headed back to Hillsboro for some hearty food, kitty snuggling, and quality couch time. That's the other benefit of being a runner- couch time is *restorative,* and therefore totally acceptable. :-)

Empathy Sucks

2010-04-13T15:48:00.000-04:00

Did you ever watch Star Trek the Next Generation and think, huh, Deanna Troi ~~is really hot~~, ~~has really great hair~~, ~~has horrible taste in men~~, is lucky to have a super power like empathy? Well, I'm here to tell you it sucks. Whenever people around you are upset, and in this world that can be a lot, you become upset. If you're trying to stay focused and on-task but everyone else is bouncing off the walls? Good luck to you.

I just can't help it. I know empathy is what makes me great at art, and why I'm good at the customer service aspect of my work. I know it's helped me be a better friend in the past. But right now I'd give anything to make it go away. It's like having a compass but being surrounded by magnets. Instead of finding your way you're more lost.

I know, it's great when your friends are happy and can lift you from a mood. It's fantastic to be a part of the energy of the crowd. Blah blah blah. Today, not sure if the pros outweigh the cons.

I'm in a bit of a mood today (shocking to hear, I know). It's sunny and sorta warm and I really should put on my sneakers and go running today. Cue up some Cake on the ipod and I'll be feeling fine. And maybe I will. But right now, Grumpus is running the show and he ain't giving up the stage.

Dolphin Challenge, Part 2

2010-04-05T11:31:00.002-04:00

Shamrock Half-Marathon, 3/21, Virginia Beach, VA
Net time: 20:30:34

We were at my parent's house with a group of people. I had to get to rehearsal, but I hadn't brought any clean clothes with me, so I was searching through my mom's closet looking for something that would a) fit and b) not look like "mom" clothes. I was hoping My Runner might bring me to rehearsal since he drove, but he was looking more than a little cozy with some other chick that was there... Of course I was mad, but I was late. Mom let me borrow her car, which was parked at the other end of the parking lot, in front of some sort of meeting place. Folks were heading in to the meeting to learn about a pyramid scheme and kept urging me to come into the meeting. When I told them I was running late to rehearsal, they closed ranks and blocked me from the car!! What the heck! I finally made it to the car and was trying to decide if I should run them down when-

Shit- I'm supposed to be getting ready to run 13.1 miles! I flew awake, saw that it's later than I meant to wake up, jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. My poor Runner was startled awake by my actions as well, looking around dazed and only able to ask, "What?" and "Why?" After a few panicked moments, I realized I'm not running TOO late, just later than I wanted. I took a few deep breaths, crawled back into bed for a quick restorative snuggle, and congratulated myself on having the fore site to lay everything out the night before. (ok, My Runner's idea, but I had the fore site to see it was a good idea....) The adrenaline got my system going, and I shoved food down my throat hoping that I won't cause a stomach ache.

The race started at 7am: earlier than I have to be to work on a normal day. Before official sunrise. So early, in fact, that I barely had time to contemplate the ridiculous task ahead of me before we arrived at the start line with 13,000 participants. I looked around at the huge crowd, My Runner streaming words of pride and encouragement, and I started to feel more than a little anxious. The start "gun" was fired, My Runner kisses me and wishes me luck, and I start to cry. I'm not sad, or afraid, exactly, just... overwhelmed. I dashed the tears away, trying to refocus on the task at hand and tune into the excitement and joy around me.

Pocket had been texting me since about 6:30am. K's house was RIGHT on the route less than a mile into the course, so they'd be watching for me outside, with a little "pick me up" gift: a Gin Bloody Mary. See, the day before we had gone to lunch at Mahi Mahi's right on the beach, where K introduced me to Bloody Mary's made with gin. I love gin, and I love Bloody Marys, and this one was made with yum-yum spiciness that was JUST up my alley. I loved it so much she promised me one for the race, which seemed like a GREAT idea at the time. Cutting across the broad crowd of people to get to Pocket and K I wasn't sure how well my stomach was going to handle gin, tomato juice, and spice this morning.

The start of the race was rough. I wasn't hitting a stride, I was struggling. I started looking around me at the other people running along side me. Not only does this help get me out of my head, it helps me appreciate the SPECTACLE that I am a part of. There were several couples running together. One wife joined another couple complaining that her husband just won't slow down enough for her, and I eavesdropped on their friendly chat. Two girls in CRAZY costumes ran by (I couldn't get a good picture). They were both wearing green brocade dresses, tiaras, green fairy wings, dangling bells from everywhere.

The beer tent appeared. My Runner spoke of the mystical beer tent, but alas it was VERY early in the race for beer, plus I had barely indulged in my Bloody Mary. I fervently hoped they would still be there when I was coming back around and passed without partaking. My mood lightened. My Runner always comes back from a run with stories of people he talked with while on the trail (or road, as it were). I decided to try a conversation. An older gentleman was wearing a shirt with this on the back:

Figuring it was a good place to start, I asked him about it. Did it mean he's not 55? He says, you're too young to know the song. But it's from a song. Oh, I said, what's the song? You're too young, he says, you wouldn't know it. Oh.. OK then. Well, good luck! Hrmph. Completely unsuccessful. Feeling rebuffed, I looked around for something else interesting, and found it in some poor girl's unfortunate sweat pattern:

I mean, she had no control over it, but watching that "kissey face" on the back of her shirt made me giggle. And that's what I desperately needed.

That and to take off some clothes. It was a little before 8 and getting quite warm. I took a break by the side of the road and removed the mobian sleeves and my long sleeved shirt from under my Team Robert shirt and instantly felt better. One discomfort delt with, another one coming on... I had to pee. There were port-a-potties every half-mile or so, with relatively short lines, but I wasn't sure I was ready to stop yet. I had just started getting into a rhythm, and I didn't want to break out of it. At this point in the course we were running in "nature"- still on a paved two-lane road that ran through a park. The sun dappled through the trees, and we were surrounded by what would soon be lush and verdant Spanish moss forest (though still dormant in March).

I was starting to enjoy myself. We passed a DJ playing YMCA and yes, all the runners did the YMCA. I hugged the right hand side of the road for a while, though this forced me to run on the rumble strip or in the gumball strewn road shoulder. My legs are still tired even though my mood is good, and I realize I might need to put something in my body. Hey, I have stuff!! I take some Advil, eat a cliff shot (not worth trying if you never need to eat this stuff... ugh), drink some of the Gatorade-like stuff in my water bottle, and stop to pee. Ten minutes later, I feel like a frickin' champ. Who knew monitoring one's blood sugar would be so important. I'm a little less than half-way, and quickly approaching mile 6 where the "large" aid station is and where I've given myself permission to walk if I need it.

It's warmed up to the high 60's at this point. Perfect for short sleeves and shorts, cool enough that I'm not feeling dehydrated. I hear music ahead of me again and expect another DJ but no, it's a live band!! They're asking for requests and while I don't hear the shoutout, the response is "We've played Freebird three times already this morning, man!" I laugh with all my non-mp3 wearing compatriots and the band strikes up "500 Miles" by the Proclaimers. Such a great toon and I am in a GREAT mood! Singing along with the lyrics, running to the rhythm, loving where I am and who I am.

We took the turn off of Shore Drive into Fort Story and approach the mile 6 aid station. It's HUGE. There's probably 30 volunteers handing out water, Gatorade, and energy gels. I grab a few free gels for my stash (won't need them on the race), and some water, and thank the volunteers I see. I had "allowed" myself to walk at this point, but I was feeling great and getting really excited to see mile marker 7, where I would officially break my distance Personal Record.

The Fort was open, we were in direct sun now, but the breeze kept me cool. We were approaching the "hill" on the course: a man-made mound of about 5% grade. If you're from New England, you would call it flat. Advice from My Runner to "give words of encouragement when you see it's needed, it'll pay back," came to my mind as I was feeling great and others were dropping around me. Not being used to offering encouragement (that's a whole therapy session that I won't get into) I felt a little lame with my "Halfway there"s and "You're doing great"s. I was often ignored, or at least not acknowledged, but those who did sent me a quick smile.

Race volunteers direct us to the opposite side of the road. It's hard to tell what's going on, until we hear sirens behind us. A fire truck comes through. Shortly after, an ambulance. All around me is fearful speculation, with some light banter to break the tension. I'm behind a few runners about my age pondering what's going on. I quip that the ambulance is getting ready for me at the end of the race. We all laugh, exchange a few pleasantries, and then we come upon the ambulance and fire truck parked. No one quips. No one says anything. Some people close their eyes in silent prayer or well wishing. Some give the whole scene the stink eye, hoping it won't happen to them. Rubber necking happens. Most people just feel bad for those who won't be finishing today. I'm not sure what the nature of the injury was, but I could see the disappointment on the runner's face.

Coming out of the Fort I see the Lighthouses, which I know are major landmarks because everyone talks about them. They're pretty cool, don't get me wrong, but I've never really had a thing for lighthouses (except maybe the one from Pete's Dragon). There's an official photographer, so I strike a pose (not being able to strike MY double horns pose due to the full hands) and as I raise my arms in celebration I hear "Hey, hey!" No need to look around, that's my phone with a text. Pocket's asking me if I've passed her at 42nd st. yet. I text back, "88th St. Think I run THAT fast?" "Just don't want to miss your sweet ass," comes the reply. It's good to be loved. :-)

I'm on the "final stretch" now, which is still about three and a half miles. I've been warned it feels REALLY slow, and I can see why, as I slowly pass 78th St., then 77th St., knowing that the finish line is south of 37th St.... Pocket and I keep in touch and this helps pass the time. The first Marathon runners are booking it up Atlantic Ave, and I marvel at their strength and we cheer them on. People are still on the street, cheering, playing music. I keep hearing "Good job, Leah! Keep up the good work, Leah! Come on, Leah!" I finally realize why they print names on bibs... Even though I don't know these people and they don't know me, hearing my name with the cheer makes me know they care, if only for that one moment, that I'm out there. That feeling is awesome.

I let Pocket know I'm about 10 streets away and have saved some Bloody Mary for a toast. A spectator jokingly chides me for "Distracted Running," and I shout back that it's not illegal yet and we "toast." My feet hurt with a few blisters, and I can tell my knees are tired, but nothing's broken so I don't linger on those feelings long. I'm excited to get to Pocket and K for a restorative toast and picture break.

Pocket's taking some video as I approach. I "pull over," uncap my Bloody Mary, cheers with K (who I assume has hers in her travel mug), and take a long pull. At 42nd St, I have almost exactly a mile to go. Pocket starts taking off her jacket and putting down her stuff. Before I can ask she says, "I'm coming with you."

I feel a big smile on my face. I have a pacer! Pocket's jumping in to finish what is a pretty epic feat, and I'm happy that she's there for me to share it with. I leave my Bloody Mary with K and we rejoin the crowd headed for the boardwalk. The finish line is in the same place as the 8K finish, in the shadow of Neptune.

We turn the corner onto the boardwalk and I feel elated. I can't believe I've run this far. I can see the pride in Pocket's face, and I'm ecstatic to share this moment. Aaand that's when the fun police come up to us and pull Pocket off the course. LAME. Still, I gave her a hug and kiss and thanked her. She wished me luck and I turned towards Neptune. The big Finish Line is stretched across the boardwalk, and I take these final moments to take in what I've just accomplished. 13.1 miles. I RAN 13.1 miles. And I felt pretty darn good. Crossed that finish line I sounded my Barbaric Yawp!

I can't believe I finished. I felt so energized. Walking through the "gauntlet,"I realized it would be hours before My Runner was done. Not sure where Pocket got to after the Fun Police came, I went to text her when I saw My Runner left a message. He called from mile 8.5, checking in to see if I'm done, how well I did. Looking at the time he left the message, about 10 minutes before, I ran out to Atlantic Ave and saw the mile 12 marker. Some quick math told me even if he's trucking I should be able to catch him here. Sure enough, a few minutes later, there he was coming down the road. I jumped up and down, cheering and waving my arms. He saw me, smiled, and headed over for a high-five. I let Pocket know he was heading their way, and I gathered up my stuff and headed back to the hotel for a shower.

The feeling of euphoria lasted. I showered, changed, changed again, stretched, decided on a third outfit, headed out the door, realized I should have my bib for the beer tent, changed a fourth time (euphoria is obviously not a contributor to good decision making), packed a long sleeved shirt, my medal, and sandals for My Runner, and headed out to watch him finish. I have to commend the race organizers here- they really knew how to arrange traffic flow. Our hotel was on 21st St, the finish line was at 30th St, plus the "gauntlet" stretching a block or two. The Beer Tent area took up several city block lengths of the beach. Still, I made it to the finish line and a little further at a good walking clip, and was able to find a prime watching and cheering spot. I do love cheering runners on, and I followed the convention of using the name on the bib. I watched several runners finish strong, many finish totally spent. One guy cramped up right in front of me and had to walk it in. A man in a hand-pedaled bike finished strong. A few of the half-marathon walkers were coming in to the finish, and let me tell you I was totally impressed. These were people who looked like walking ONE mile would be a challenge. How brave of them to take this journey. It reinforced my belief that every one has their own potential to explore and fulfill, and I was inspired by these strangers who were working hard to fulfill theirs.

After what felt like ages, but was probably 15 minutes, I saw My Runner, looking good, heading down the boardwalk. I tried to snap a picture with my phone, but he's still so far away it doesn't come out. I can't help but jump up and down and shout his name! Another high five and through the finish line he goes. Later he tells me I nearly killed him 'cause he got all choked up.... awwwwww.... I hustled my butt to the beer tent area for real congratulations to each other. We grabbed our tasty brews, picked a spot on the beach, and enjoyed.

I felt great the rest of the day. A little stiff, sore, but no major issues. Did I get a big head from that? Maybe. (Yes.) We dined at Murphy's that night, sitting next to the indoor fireplace and listening to the same band that played "500 Miles" on the course. It's still light out when we get back to the hotel, but I'm a little sleepy. I just needed a little rest before the rest of the night so I put my head down on the bed and.... SLEPT FOR SIXTEEN HOURS. Jeeze, guess the race DID take the mickey out of me.

What's next? I've been training and worrying and looking forward to this race for so long, I feel a bit lost at sea. Running with my Dad for the first time after VA Beach last weekend I almost died. Running on trails in Fox Forrest yesterday, I'm getting my legs back. I registered for the 4 mile Muddy Moose, and am *considering* a 25K trail race on Memorial Day weekend. Can I pull off another "in over my head" run?

What a Maroon!

2010-04-01T07:54:00.005-04:00

On a dinner date with my Mom, Mr. Fixit, and my aunt and uncle last night, my uncle showed me this little gem he pulled off a tape circa 1988.

That's little me with a pretty awesome Animal puppet hamming it up for the entertainment of my elders. Also, I still use "I gotta go to the bathroom" as a way to get out of conversations where I don't know what to say.

You Think THAT'S Impressive....

2010-03-30T10:18:00.000-04:00

As I work to finish (ok, work to FIND TIME to finish) my Half-Marathon report, I wanted to share what My Runner, his dad, Sherpa John, and 32 others attempted over the weekend: The Barkley Marathon.

This is one of the toughest races in the country, and as you look through the pictures you'll get an idea. Both came back with EPIC stories not only of the course but of the people and experiences. The idea of the adventure- THAT'S why running is fun. :-)

My Runner

Sherpa John

Dolphin Challenge, Part 1

2010-03-26T10:19:00.002-04:00

Towne Bank 8K, 3/20, Virginia Beach, VA

Net time: 51:50

The alarm went off at 6am, much earlier than a vacation alarm ought to. The race started at 8am; we'd planned to meet Pocket and her friend K at 7:30am. We took advantage of the early start to watch the sun rise over the Atlantic from our room, a sight I’ve rarely witnessed over the water, never mind take the time to enjoy when I have to be up so early.

We split homemade egg and bagel sandwiches from the day before, frozen from the hard-working mini-fridge. I’m not used to eating so soon after waking up; usually I don’t eat for an hour or two after waking up and finishing my coffee. We headed out into the chill morning air with the 20,000 other runners towards Neptune to meet up with our friends, jogging on the way to stay warm. A few minutes of searching through the crowd and I spoted Pocket and K. We paused for photo op, and moved to the back of the pack at the start line, almost 4 blocks from the actual starting line.

It took us ten minutes to cross the starting line with all the people running. I looked around at the folks in costumes, kilts, wigs, funny hats, crazy makeup. I love the spirit these people bring to a race- makes it feel like a party. I wish I had the balls or patience to run in a crazy getup. Maybe someday I’ll go all out for a 5k. When I helped my dad by working an October Fest 12k, one of the entrants ran the whole thing in lederhosen and a purple felt fedora with a feather! Even more impressive are parents running with child-filled strollers.

Technically we were not allowed to run with iPods, dogs, or strollers, but obviously people were ignoring those rules. While I’m always impressed at someone’s performance with the extra burden of a child and stroller, I wish more people had followed the guidelines. With 20thousand people these things become a danger to others. iPods make it impossible to hear a runner coming up behind you with an “on your right,” or “excuse me.” Even the most well trained dogs can act out in a large crowd, or a spectator’s dog can go bananas at the site of a dog in the race, causing an upset to runners. Strollers become battering rams. With crowds this big, passing is difficult enough with just one’s own body. Passing with the stroller-equivalent of a tank is nigh impossible. We ran alongside a man on the boardwalk who spent his whole run yelling at people in front of him to make way. Wouldn’t it be more fun to let your child stand on the sidelines with other family or friends than having them hear you yell at strangers?

My biggest challenge of this 8k (4.9 miles for those of you not versed in computing, like me,) was staying together with Pocket and My Runner. We spend the ENTIRE race weaving in and out of people. My Runner was always in front of us, which alternately motivated and infuriated me. In any case, it kept us running and kept us challenged. It gave Pocket and I a chance to catch up on each other's lives now that she lives three states away.

The race started cool but weather warmed up quickly. I took off my “sleeves” and rolled up the sleeves to my long-sleeved under shirt pretty quickly. By the time we were on the south end of the “boardwalk” (made from cement… non-traditional but dualy functional- take it up with the Army Corps of Engineers, I suppose) it was well in to the 60’s and sunny.

It was around this time I needed a little “inspiration.” When running is hard, or I need a smile, or I’m just feeling frisky, I’ll grab a handful of My Runner’s well-developed runner’s butt. Sorry if that’s TMI, but seriously, if you felt that ass you’d be willing to run for miles too, whether it was to emulate it or to tap it. Seriously. It’s that good.

Ok, I’ll get back to the narrative. I needed inspiration, so I went to get me some. Unfortunately, My Runner sped up just as I grabbed my “piece” and this poor girl he had been passing got a full body check from yours truly. Now, in hockey terms this was no big deal. I probably wouldn’t even apologize for the minor infraction in the course of a normal game. But with running, well, it's not a contact sport. I expressed my apologies pretty profusely, but I don't think she was impressed. I turned back to Pocket for corroboration, then realized I just ran over this chick in an attempt to grab ass. I was the dick in this scenario, no getting around that. Awwwww…. Still, inspiration was given, and that girl now had a story to tell.

We swerved from the boardwalk back onto Atlantic Ave. to run past the Start line. Around that time I *thought* we were done, I started pulling more gas from the tank. Pocket and I talked a little about that. I love the end of a race, where you know how much is left and you can empty your tank and make a strong finish. Well, turns out one should study the course in order to use this functionality (apparently it's a figure 8). There were more miles left than I had anticipated when I was ready to “empty the tank.”

We took one last turn onto the “boardwalk” for the finish. K was waiting for us on the curve, camera in hand. This was the first time I’d had a “fan,” and I was WAY more excited than I ever thought I would be. Honestly she was out there for Pocket, the promise of sharing Pocket's free beers (she's not much of a drinker, like My Runner and I), and because it was convenient (a measly 8 blocks from her current residence). I mean, she seemed genuinely excited to see us round the corner, but I wouldn’t expect someone to be out there if it weren’t for the same kind of circumstances. Still, it felt AWESOME to see her. We rounded the curve, headed into the sunlight, and were greeted with the awesome Neptune: Ward of the Finish Line.

Heading towards Neptune with Pocket and My Runner and almost 20thousand others, I felt giddy. I started cheering us all on, "Woooo"-ing at full voice. Here we all were, on the beautiful beach, spending time together, being active, and participating in an event with tens of thousands of people. That's not nothing. We crossed a pre-finish line; I realized this was so our names would come up on the screen from our “D-Tags.” The MC announced the names of the finishers, which was pretty killer. My Runner’s name was announced, my name was (mispro)nounced, and Pocket’s name was announced. We all crossed the finish together, feeling fine and ready to take in the beer and the sun.

The race organizers had set up a long corral, allowing finishers to walk after their run, pickup our finishers medal, t-shirt, food, water, and any other swag they were handing out, before finally turning into the beer tent area, serving exclusively Yeungling beer. We grabbed some beers, and Pocket and I went off in search of K. Once we were all found, we kicked off our shoes and relaxed in the sand, toasting our wonderful day.

Wild Rover Series, 3 of 3

2010-03-18T16:22:00.000-04:00

Hynes Tavern 5-miler, 3/14, Lowell, MA

Net Time: 49:05, mile avg: 9:50

Woke up at 8:45am, unsure if the faint smell of beer was coming from me or from the massive amount of empties left from the Epic St. Patty's Day Party. While I wasn't hungover (thanks, Mom and Dad, for the excellent purification system), I was SUPER tired. I must be getting too old for 4:30am bedtimes. Still, I eventually roused myself and headed downstairs and tiptoed amongst the overnight guests to get ready.

There was new fallen snow/slush on the ground in Hillsboro. I knew Lowell wouldn't have snow, but it would be cold, rainy, and likely windy. I borrowed some nifty techie thermal undies from My Runner (thanks babe!), toasted a bagel, downed a cuppa, and headed out.

I'm glad I bundled up as much as I did. I arrived with plenty of time to nap a bit in my car before heading to the starting line. The turnout was smaller than the race directors had anticipated, but still pretty impressive. I was struck by how nonchalant the start was. The last two races had national anthems, this one had nothing but a guy yelling "Go!" on a bull horn. Another runner commented about the inability to purchase a gun in Lowell, and I realized that gunshots in Lowell are probably NOT the safest way to start a race.

I was apprehensive about this race. It's the longest in the series and I had the worst training week. I ran one... maybe two days since the prior race, plus hockey. Not really a good way to prepare for my longest race to date. I had even briefly considered not going, but halted that thought process pretty quickly. My Runner rightly pointed out that the finishers medal would look super lame with just two of the three pieces, and that thought got me out there. Now, to keep me going forward.

The first mile was pretty easy. Wearing my new waterproof EMS jacket and a hat, I stayed relatively dry. My hands were raw, but it was warm enough with my hood up that they would warm up soon. But I was going too fast. I could feel myself pushing, wanting to get out of the weather, not enjoying the run. I needed a pacer. So I found one. A woman, a little shorter than me, with a long thick brown ponytail, wearing the Frozen Shamrock race shirt and a vest. She was running with an easy stride, passing a few folks but mostly just running. Something about her speed and the way she was running spoke to me. So, like the creepy stalker that I am, I ran behind her.

I don't know why I didn't run up and talk to her. I wasn't feeling very communicative that day (having turned down the generous offer from Face to accompany me to the race- I didn't want anyone to have to stand in the rain for an hour just to see me run by). Sometimes I followed her closely, sometimes I let her get a bit ahead. Just after the 3 mile mark we went down a hill where she was just more willing to pound than I was. I was getting tired and needed to throttle back to make it another mile and change. She never had more than about a 20 second lead on me, which on a city course meant I could still see her most of the time. After the race I found her, went up to her, and thanked her, letting her know that she pulled me and challenged me at the same time. She seemed surprised, but totally happy.

While there were hills on this course, the most challenging aspect was the weather. Rain, yeah, chilly, yeah, WIND oh yeah. Running through a cemetery we were all blasted by a headwind that made the rain fall sideways. Getting to the finish line felt like sprinting even though I was running at the same pace.

This is the one race I did not get my free beer. Figuring I'd had enough beers the previous night, and my pants and shoes combined weighed an extra 10 lbs with the water, I was ready for home. I was tired, but it felt damn good to have my finisher's medal.

Wild Rover Series, 2 of 3

2010-03-18T14:01:00.001-04:00

Claddagh Pub 4-miler, 3/7, Lawrence, MA

Net time: 39:10, mile avg: 9:48

My Runner called me at 8:25am to let me know he was almost at my house. Wow, I thought to myself, he's running early. Must be perky this morning. Come to find out he thought we were leaving an hour earlier... whoops. Not sure if that was my bad or his, but I felt kinda guilty about it...

I was feeling good, despite having returned from my sojourn to my alma matter with Pocket after midnight the previous night. It was a beautiful day, sunny and in the high 50's. We were meeting my Dad in Lawrence for the race- the first time My Runner and Dad would meet. Dad was there around the time we were taking off from ManchVegas, giving him plenty of time to warm up his creaky old joints (ok, he's only 59, but he said it first.)

We found (dubious) parking and headed down to the Claddagh parking lot to meet up with Dad and get my number (My Runner was "bandit" running- he didn't pay the entrance fee and had no number). We killed a little time with introductions and catching up, then headed over to the starting line where My Runner and I lead Dad to the back of the pack. "How far back we goin'?" Dad quips. I just wanted to be in the sun. Plus it's more fun to pass people than to be passed.

Sidebar- most races play the national anthem before the start, like a traditional sporting event. Often it's a recording, or it's some kid who sings in the local church choir/community theatre/karaoke contest who belts it out and sharps that high note. Generally, it's awful and doesn't make me feel patriotic in the least. The group that the Claddagh race director hired sang *beautifully.* A trio of women (or girls, I couldn't actually see them) singing in a capella harmony, hitting every note in clear, strong, and blended voices. I'm not a super patriotic person, but I was moved.

The race was an easy start, bringing us through downtown Lawrence before moving out into neighborhoods. As I started the run I noticed I was leading, with Dad and My Runner a bit behind. My Runner had just run a snowshoe marathon the day before, so I knew he wasn't at full strength. But I was a little surprised my Dad was having trouble keeping up. I checked to make sure I wasn't pushing it *because* of my Dad... and I wasn't. Hmm... Still not sure if he was faking it, but in any case it made me feel pretty good about my very very average 9:30 mile. Dad asked My Runner to snap some photos of us:

Lawrence is an ugly city. I'm sorry. I wish it wasn't, but even downtown had no redeeming qualities. It's a good thing they put this race on, or I'm not sure why ANYONE would ever choose to visit.

As Dad and My Runner talked about races, Ultras, and folks they both knew (or knew of) I was struck (again) by how similar they are. Yes, perhaps I am a cliché. One thing I admire about my Dad (and My Runner) is that he says what he thinks, other people's opinions be damned. There are plenty of times in life where this is a good quality. There are also some times when this is socially awkward, like when Dad basically (but maybe jokingly) called My Runner a pussy for running with his Pops even though he had a slower pace. I can't remember if THIS is the comment my Dad made that prompted me to call him an ass, or if it was another.... Seriously, what did he think *I* was doing at this race? Did he think I was a pussy runner? Was he a pussy runner if he was slowing down for me? Dad has some good qualities, but he definitely IS an ass when he doesn't think about how other people will react to what he says.

The course is shaped like a lollypop: go in one way, loop around, and go back the way you came. The loop around was really the only challenging part of the course, as it went up a significantly steep and long-ish hill. Training in Hillsboro paid off. It was challenging, no doubt, but more than do-able. As we descend the hill, Dad turns to me, "I'm thirsty!" for beer, is the inference. Another runner, a man about my Dad's age, comes up behind us. "Me too! Got any beer in those water bottles?" We joke around for a bit with him as we headed back down to the finish line.

I kept pulling ahead, motivated by the sunshine, warm weather, and full bladder, but pulling back again not wanting to leave the guys. As we round (and round) the final blocks, the finish line comes into view with the big clock just seconds away from 40:00 minutes. I really wanted a sub-40 minute time. Well, ok, I really wanted to sprint and let it all out. I spit out an "I'm going for it" to the guys and bolted.

The guys were content to come in at their own pace. Probably a good thing since my stomach was maybe a little pukey feeling after the sprint.

We collected our medals and headed in for our free beers. There seemed to be pasta too, but my tummy was happy with just beer (is that a problem? nahhh...). Dad was very complimentary towards my running, and I was happy to be able to run by his side. After our free beers we headed back to MachVegas for some food and more socializing.

Wild Rover Series, 1 of 3

2010-03-18T11:53:00.000-04:00

J.P. McBrides 3-miler, "Frozen Shamrock," 2/28, Haverhill, MA
Net time: 27:45, mile avg: 9:20

The morning after the wildly successful Luau, I dragged myself out of my warm, comfy bed, scrambled up some eggs and toast, and checked the weather. It was cloudy and chilly, but calm and dry- pretty much the conditions I'd been running in for the last month. I gathered my usual running gear: Brooks, mittens and Lifesavers (for the last time this season), along with my newly found iPod (MiniMcL discovered it in the couch cushions during the Luau... what she was searching for in the couch cushions, I didn't ask...). I kissed My Runner goodbye and headed out to Haverhill.

I'm not gonna lie, I had butterflies in my stomach. Not for running 3 miles, but because I hadn't raced since the Beaver Brook 5K in December. I've said it before, but there's a certain feel about a race, an excitement that doesn't exist at a "run." It's not just people, it's the ritual of the event, with it's "official" starting and finish line, electronic tracking devices, announcements, etc. Did the pre-race dance of getting the number, the t-shirt, and the swag, then waited in line for the bathroom for 20 minutes.

The Wild Rover series, and I assume any beer/bar sponsored race, tends to be a social affair. Folks were there in groups, chatting, many dressed in crazy Irish/St. Patty's Day outfits. It was a fun scene, and not hard to make conversation with those around me.

I started closer to the front then I meant to, but held my own throughout the race. My iPod was shuffling through my "workout" playlist; all the songs that were once tired and old felt new after a three month hiatus. Shuffle was doing a masterful job of random-happenstance-coincidence as one great song after another played, perfectly matching my mood, my pace, and my surroundings. It was hard not to sing along out loud, but I did let myself groove with it:

The batteries ran out pretty quickly (not having been charged). I really didn't mind since I run without music most of the time anyways. The folks near me weren't super chatty, so I filled my mind with thoughts of Haverhill as we moved into the Bradford area of town. Parts of Haverhill were filled with Ye Olde New England Charm(TM), and parts were just plain run down or abandoned. Zion Bible College has moved in to Bradford College's campus since the last time I was in Haverhill. It was nice to see that area thriving again. This was the most well-laid course of the three, I thought, as it took you over the Merrimack twice, over and under bridges, a few ups and downs and loops.

Post race was CHILLY, with volunteers handing out space-blankets. Speaking of chilli, that's what they were serving at the finish line, along with chicken and split-pea soups. Declined the ~~tin foil cape~~ space blanket, grabbed a chilli, and got into the beer line. Rather than handing out tickets for free beer, JP McBrides had dedicated beer taps on the back porch. There were 2 problems with this plan: 1)with only one tap, the beer line was LOOOOONG. 2)They had obviously set up the tap as the starting gun was fired, and the beer was really foamy. I combated these issues by making pals with the two older gentlemen in front of me in line, chatting about this race and others, space blankets, and the merits of a totalitarian system of government. Since the taps were so foamy, the bartenders were filling two cups for everyone, essentially providing me with a total of an entire pint of free beer. It was Rolling Rock, so it's not like I won the lottery, but it was a nice gesture on their part.

Unfortunately, the nice gentlemen disappeared after retrieving beers, and I was left in the yard double fisting foamy brew with no companions. I ambled around, looking for a situation or a conversation, but no go. People were with their people, or looking for people, or not interested in new people. It was the first time that day I was sad to be on my own at this race. I shrugged and enjoyed my beer until I started shivering, then took that as a sign to head home, first of three finishers medals hanging proudly around my neck.

Virginia is for Lovers. And Racers.

2010-03-17T11:38:00.000-04:00

Thursday night at 11pm My Runner and I leave to drive the 596 miles to Virginia Beach for the Yuengling Shamrock Marathon. The weather looks to be in the upper 60's and sunny, and our room has an ocean view. Pocket's running the 8k with us on Saturday, and nothing will please me more to spend the morning running with two of my favorite people next to the majestic Atlantic Ocean.

I'm looking forward to this trip so much it's all that's on my mind. I've got an extensive list of what to pack, divided by categories, (clothes, toiletries, booze, etc.). I'm obsessively checking the weather (last Monday the prediction was 50% chance of precipitation on Sunday, today it's down to 30%). I'm looking at the race maps and imagining what the runs will be like, and browsing through the "Virginia Beach" pool on Flickr (an eclectic mix of professionals and vacation photos).

I'm SO excited for the vacation that I keep forgetting that I'm running THIRTEEN MILES on Sunday. After running just under 5 miles on Saturday. At this point, I'm as trained as I'm gonna be. I (mostly) avoided injuries at hockey (bruises don't really count). I know where there's water and Gu on the course, and I've got some to carry with me. My shoes are well broken in, my running clothing has been chosen, my iPod is charged and I'm ready to go. The only unknowns are "chafe," (I know what chafe is in general, but runner's chafe sounds... no good), and if I can *actually* go the distance.

I'm no longer afraid to walk, but I don't want to give in to the walking if I don't have to. I was pretty tired running 5 miles last Sunday, but the conditions were bad. 6 miles three weeks ago felt great. My plan is to try to make it to the water station (about 6 miles in) without walking, get some water and fuel, walk about a half mile, and see if I can run again. From then on in, if I'm tired or hurting, I'll sign-post it (ie, run to that sign-post, walk to this one, run to that one, walk to this one).

You know this *isn't a running blog* however the next few posts will be running-centered, so you've been "warned." Also, the DAY we return from Virginia Beach the Nerd Herd will fight for the NHSSC Hockey trophy in the Season 6 finals. Hopefully I won't be too broken to break myself at hockey. :-)

Naked Cartwheels

2010-03-11T22:37:00.001-05:00

It’s been an incredibly busy couple of weeks. I work to post at least twice a week, sometimes more, and it’s been tough to find the time. I’ve had meetings every day at work, some with a prominent political figure in this city (who may be my representative but for whom I did not cast my vote). This past weekend Dad visited, hockey Monday and Tuesday, Wednesday night My Runner and I and Mom and Mr. Fixit went to a dinner party at Mop and Face’s place.

Tonight my calendar had “6pm, Whipple St.” I was scheduled to look at a half a duplex to rent. It was cute, had a lot of space, a yard, and was in a quiet neighborhood. Best of all it was within my price range. The owners are a friend of a friend, so it came with a recommendation.

I assume you noticed that all the verbs in the last paragraph are in past tense. I got an email from the owner today that he had rented it out last night. I knew I had gotten too excited about this place. I had even described it to someone as “the one; we’re meant for each other.” But it’s been on the market for a while, and the owners were (understandably) looking to rent it out sooner rather than later.

I’m bummed, but working through it. How? With naked cartwheels. Tonight, instead of having an appointment, instead of scheduling anything, instead of having to see another living person, I’m home. All alone. Well, Fred T. Ferret, is here, but no humans. My cousin/roommate is home for spring break, and I’m taking advantage of an empty apartment and a canceled appointment for some MUCH needed *me* time.

Ok, Leeapeea, but naked cartwheels? That was Face’s idea. I’m sure it was one of those offhand things, “Oh, your roommate’s gone? What are you going to do? Naked Cartwheels! Ha!” Except it’s turned into something more than that. Metaphorically, naked cartwheels represents ultimate freedom and joy. Not only do you have the space to perform a free-wheeling acrobatic attempt, but you also have the privacy to do it disrobed. THAT’S freedom, my friends.

A good life is a life of balance. I love my friends, my family, My Runner, but I also love me. I have to balance my time with everyone else with some me time. Tonight brought the scales back to true. If you’ve been feeling overstressed, overwhelmed, overtaxed, over burdened, take my advice: naked cartwheels.

Bits and Pieces

2010-03-05T08:55:00.000-05:00

Lots of thoughts swirling around lately, and mostly unorganized. A sampling of the bits and pieces grabbed from the tornado of my brain:

Dad's coming up this weekend. We're meeting at a race on Sunday morning, then he's staying until Tuesday. This'll be the first time I run with him, ever. I'm really worried about being slow. I know it's stupid - he won't care, we're here to run it together, but still. My Runner might be joining us. I'm glad My Runner and Dad will get a chance to meet. They're very similar, which totally makes me a cliché, but what can ya do. I love running with My Runner, and I know it will make me worry less about being slow, but there's a small part of me that wants to run just me and my dad. I think that part's smaller than the part that wants both of them there.

I drove around ManchVegas for an hour on Wednesday checking out neighborhoods of apartments listed on craigslist. It was ridiculously depressing how much some places were misrepresented. Of course I only viewed the outside on these, but since I'm looking for a new neighborhood I thought that would be a good place to start. As much as I want a place that's unique, part of a house, a few neighbors, a nice landlord, I think ultimately I won't be able to find a nice place in a nice neighborhood in my price range unless I go for apartment complex living. Not really my first choice, but it's got the essentials that I'm looking for, and there are always openings. The other drawback is that my current rental company operates at least half of the apartment complexes in MancheVegas. They're probably not better or worse than other rental companies, but their tenant screening process leaves something to be desired.

Last weekend I ran the farthest I have yet - 6 miles. I felt great, and ran an average 9:20min. mile in the Frozen Shamrock 3 mile race the next day. This week I feel like crap. My hip's been bothering me, my calves are cramping, and I've been having some, ah... lady issues. I've taken some time off to rest, maybe too much time. I've got a 4.6mi run planned with Pocket when she comes to visit on Saturday, then the race on Sun is 4 miles. I'm still not feeling great, but it's time to get back in the saddle. I've totally neglected my PT the last two weeks (slaps hand) and I know that's why my hip is bothering me. The half-marathon is in 16 days; no time to rest on my weary laurels.

Speaking of the ShamRock (half)Marathon, this was today's facebook post:
Coach Jerry Frostick's tip of the week: Less is best, don't try and make up for missed mileage. Everyone has battled the worstwinter that I remember. That same determination will get you to the finish line. Feel proud of what you've done.Usethese last two weeks to heal aches and pains and visualize great things for... your big day!You all will Sham ROCK.
It's like Coach Jerry is reading my mind. I'm not going to go crazy with miles, but I am working to get my drive, determination, and "sticktoitiveness" back on line. (When did "sticktoitiveness" become an ok word to use?)

Pocket and I will be heading to my Alma Mater after our run on Saturday to see a show produced by the theatre department from which I graduated. It hasn't been terribly long since I attended, and most of my profs are still working there. I've always been proud of my education. While the name and the department doesn't necessarily have a huge reputation, I felt the professors and program were all well-rounded and encouraged exploration of talents and strengths. I really hope it's a good show.

Mom recently "guilted" me that I've been dating My Runner for over six months now and she barely knows him. She's right, it's weird. I have a very close relationship with my family, so the fact that I'm so happy and they don't know him IS totally strange. So we're having dinner on Wednesday, hosted by Face and Mop. I'm super psyched. Getting the chance to meet some of his family over Easter. Excited, but oddly not really nervous. I mean, I hope they like me, and there is a certain amount of strain making small talk with a room full of strangers, but I'm just happy to get to see a little more of where My Runner comes from.

I know I'm "of that age," but EVERYONE is getting married this year. Three friends, two family members. Five weddings. Don't get me wrong, I actually really like weddings. Celebrating love, eating, dancing, drinking, wearing pretty clothes, all things I truly enjoy. And, luckily, there's not a single union that I'm in any way opposed to. The only down side is that my schedule for the spring/summer/fall is now pretty full, and already there are conflicts with weddings and planned trips. Normally I'm a "first come first serve" kind of gal when it comes to plans, but people tend to only get married once (at least, to each other), and friends and family are sort of expected to prioritize a wedding over, say, a backpacking trip. Knowing I will have equal but different fun at either event is not helping me make a decision.

Aloha, Final Party

2010-03-02T18:35:00.003-05:00

The 5th Annual Luau was held this past weekend, and it was a success. I know so many wonderful and fun people, and I'm glad to host an opportunity for them to all meet each other. As Sherpa said, “You know a lot of people!” It’s true. They’re all fun and nice and wonderful in their own way, and I was happy to have them all in one spot. It also gave me a chance to invite all the awesome folks I’ve met through My Runner and introduce them to the awesome folks that are a part of my life.

This is the last party that will be held in the hallowed walls of apartment 206. The Seacoast contingent arrived, looking around and saying, "I forgot how great your apartment is." (They don't visit frequently enough. HINT.) Yeah, I said, I know... And we all had a moment of silence as we pre-mourned the passing of an era.

So, in honor of my apartment and it's ability to host and hold some pretty phenomenal parties, a memorial of sorts to the evenings of fun (and sometimes not so fun) held at 206. If you have fond (or horrid or funny) memories of any of these gatherings, feel free to share. (Click any pictures to see larger.)

Housewarming, Nov. 2004: Held shortly after Smarty Pants and I moved in, the housewarming was a SAUSAGE FEST, with exactly three girls in attendance. Smarty, Face, and yours truly. This was the first AND LAST time Twister was played in our apartment. Shortly after the epic Twister bouts I decided to get renter's insurance.

Oscar Party, Feb. 2005: A small gathering to watch the 2005 Oscars. Hors d'herves and champagne, formal attire, and a red carpet (well, a swath of red fabric safety pinned to the actual carpet). The most civil of the early parties.

The First Annual Luau, Feb. 2005: A large gathering, the first luau went off quite well until I realized that the guy I was with was sleeping with another woman and wanted her to come to the party. I distinctly remember chucking his clothes at him from the bedroom and screaming at him to leave (he was quite in the luau spirit in a coconut bra and grass skirt). Other than that, it was lovely. Note: The ex and the coconut bra made a return at this year's Luau. I did not throw clothing, and I knew beforehand he was sleeping with somebody else, as am I. All is well now. :-D

Cinco de Mayo, May 2005: made chipotle pigs in a blanket, managed NOT to poison friends with Mom's margarita recipe. There was talk of making this annual as well, but the party fuse was running low finally.

Talk Like A Pirate Party, Sept. 2005: this party commemorated International Talk Like a Pirate Day. What? Pirates were cool once. Plus I got to use the corset I bought for a play a second time. And MrFaceHead came in a full parrot costume. He is teh awesome. Proudest about: serving orange wedges to prevent scurvvy. Arrrr.

Smarty Pant’s Surprise Birthday, Dec. 2005: Since Smarty’s birthday falls neatly in between Christmas and New Years, it doesn’t always get the attention it deserves. Face and I resolved to MAKE it have the attention it deserved. Smarty was surprised. She cried. It was awesome.

2nd Annual Luau, Feb. 2006: they start to run together... but I'm pretty sure this is the one where a guy threw up strawberry daiquiri all over the living room floor.

Toga Party, June 2006: for my 26th birthday I held a Toga Party. One friend came with his new girlfriend and they were the ONLY ones not in togas. We made them wear really ugly sheets. They've since stopped coming to my parties.

The Heist, Aug. 2006: for The Boy's 31st birthday I arranged for him to be kidnapped, tossed in an unmarked cargo van, and charged, by Jimmy Baggadonuts to find the McGuffin Statue. Obviously my wonderful and awesome friends filled out the cast of characters. It went off without a hitch, proving that not only are all my friends closet actors, but I am a kickass heist planner. Research for this was fun. :-)

3rd Annual Luau, Feb. 2007: this year it snowed 16 inches the night of the luau, and there was a parking ban in Manchester. People walked 5 blocks in the snow in sandals. The Boy took my offer to "invite friends" a little too liberally, inviting people he knew only from playing pool at Strangebrew who brought along even more strangers. Max apartment capacity was reached that night at a total of 51 guests. I was not amused.

Halloween, Oct. 2007: Smarty was in Budapest this fall, so the entire invite list was up to me. This resulted in a number of theatre people attending, which is great/horrible for a costume party. A contingent of actors came from the production of Pirates of Penzance, and I’m pretty sure some of them were getting it on in the shower. Most notable costume: one friend’s girlfriend came as a Succubus, a costume that consisted of black booty shorts, black bat wings, and black latex body paint. Yes, that’s it.

NYE 2007, Dec. 2007/Jan. 2008: this should have been the end of The Boy and me, but I'm stubborn and a glutton for punishment I guess. Carnie Irene made her pox-filled appearance this year, prompting The Boy to spend time exclusively with her, dancing with her (while no one else was dancing, mind you), touching her, and being with her when it was time for NYE kisses. This night I left without saying good-bye and stayed at Face's house. He hadn't noticed I was gone. He was upset that he had to clean everything up by himself. Boo-hoo.

4th Annual Luau, Feb. 2008: I think this was the year my towel rack in front of the toilet was broken as someone drunkenly fell against it. There was also some girl… someone’s friend of a friend, maybe, who was trying to kiss all the other girls. And this was the year half the female contingent showed up in bikini tops. I don’t know what kind of hormones were in the water, but they seemed to be the horny kind.

Halloween, Oct. 2008: I was stop number one on people's party-hopping list. While it was nice that everyone came, it was a little sad that I had 4 people in my apartment at midnight. I whined about it because I am 5 years old.

First 29th Birthday Surprise, June 2009: This time *I* was the one who was surprised. I managed not to pee my pants and was inebriated enough to give EVERYONE at the party hugs. I was not so inebriated that I couldn’t figure out that The Boy could never have pulled this off by himself, so thanks to Face and Smarty for the best first 29th birthday a girl could have.

5th Annual Luau, Feb. 2010: after a hiatus in 2009 the Luau was back with a vengeance. This year the tikki gods saw fit to cut half the power to the building, affording ambiance while still being able to run the blenders. Hula and Limbo contests were a rousing success. Statistics: Rum Consumed: 2 1/2 handles + approx 300 mL of 151. Ice Used: 20lbs. Inflatable Fish Sacrificed: 2. Lei'd at the door: Everyone.