Self Limitations- When They're a Good Thing

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.  :-)

Kickin' A$$, Takin' Names

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.

Back to Basics

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.

Dolphin Challenge, Part 2

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?

Dolphin Challenge, Part 1

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.

Naked Cartwheels

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.

Aloha, Final Party

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.

Holiday Season

Brother Mine and I were raised as Hallmark Christians. We were never baptized (until we were older - that's how we "rebelled,"), never went to church unless someone was getting married or died. But we did celebrate Christmas and Easter in the finest Hallmark fashion - presents, food, brightly colored mascots, etc.

Things, as they often do, got more complicated when my parents divorced, and even more so when my mom moved my brother and me to NH. We had our Christmas as a family, then my mom's Family Christmas (Memere, her5 siblings, all my cousins, and eventually my cousin's kids), then my Dad's family Christmas (similar to my mom's - those French Canadians really know how to breed).

As an adult it became a little easier to balance all the commitments. I could drive myself to different locations, and ultimately began to choose one family for certain holidays so I could stay and enjoy the company. Mr. Fixit came into our lives, bringing his lovely children and grandchildren, and one more Christmas celebration (2nd Christmas). Friends are home to visit (Smarty Pants, Deej, the recently engaged Golden Girl, and Brother Mine, just to name a few), and of course I want to spend quality time with all of them. And my friends that ARE my family: Face and Mop, Fleur, Seacoast, and the aforementioned visitors, just to name a few. These are the people who have been with me through thick and thin, good times and bad, and CHOSE to love me unconditionally. And of course I want to spend time with my sweetie, My Runner, and all the new friends I've met and grown to enjoy through him.

As much as I love seeing everyone, spending time with family and friends, sharing a laugh, some food, libations, it feels very stressful this season. I'll look at my calendar and how full the next week is, and I can feel my blood pressure rise. And then I think of my family, chosen and unchosen, and how lucky I am to be surrounded by people I love. If I beleived in blessings, I suppose you could say that when I count them, I am rich.

Happy Holidays. I hope this season reminds you that love is an important gift, and sharing time and experiences together is part of what makes us happy, healthy, whole human beings.

Nerd Herd Season 5 Playoff Game

Last night was the playoff games for NHSSC hockey. Nerd Herd was 2nd seed in the league - pretty impressive considering not two seasons ago we were happy to have ANY wins.

The previous game saw a change in officiants. Not only was "Skip," the ref for most of the season, not there, but we had TWO refs, one of which was an old highschool/hockey buddy of Mop's. The calls were very different from Skip's, whose style is akin to "Penalty! by... um... eenie-meenie-miney-moe...." It was a fun game with a lot of play, and after winning we were psyched and ready to take on playoffs.

My spirits personally fell when I saw Skip was officiating again. I mean, he seems like a nice enough guy, but he really doesn't know hockey well, and he doesn't know how to control the game. He's not confident in his calls. The worst is that our team dynamic sinks dramatically every time we feel like we get a BS call. I play on this team for fun, not to get pissed. I can't say I blame my teammates - I'm rarely a victim of a bad call. But I knew our play would suffer for the bad attitude.

Still - pre-game milling was good. Team seemed in high spirits as we watched the first playoff game finish up between Seed 1 team and Seed 4 team. It was a tight game (with traditionally bad calls by Skip), but both teams were battling hard. My Runner and I did our pre-game laps around the track; I was trying to work out a little nag in my left calf that's been hanging in there since last Friday.

(Recap penned by El Capitan at the end of the post, for those of you who are stat-minded)

We start the game out feeling great. Herd's really cheerful (and CHEERING!). My Runner gets the first goal in our first shift. It was great. Unfortunately the other team brings it back and scores two on us. We get some weird whistles - calls that don't make much sense, but their warnings, so ok. Moral starts to drop a bit. I miss some passes, and an opportunity to shoot.

I'm getting frustrated at myself. I'm not really contributing to the offense. I'll crash the net and not be able to get open, or get open and miss the pass, or get the ball stolen 'cause I'm not looking. I'm covering other players when they're in our zone, and I'm able to slow down or steal the ball sometimes, but overall I've become a defensive player. Not really what a winger should be. Not in a playoffs game.

I keep coming off the rink mad. This isn't really like me. Sure I know when I'm playing better and when I'm worse, but usually I can keep my head in the game. This time I had to leave the rink, take deep breaths, not sob. My Runner, bless him, keeps coming to check on me. The nicer he is the harder it is to pull my self together. I do my best to ask him to go away without being a douche - difficult to articulate when you know you'll sob if you open your mouth. He seems to get it. I breath deep a few times, wipe my face, and get back in to support my team.

When I take a high stick penalty (and I hate this because I know as my stick is coming up to my wast to catch the ball that I'm gonna get called, but I can't stop it), I'm furious with myself. The team is down by one, now *I'm* making them play three-on-four. My stupidity has caused us to be down a man at a playoffs game. As soon as the whistle blew I knew it was my penalty, I spun around and practically ran off the rink. It took everything I had not to hurl my stick in frustration but a) that would get me kicked out of the game and b) my lovely teammates were all in the way - no need to cause more harm.

This time the sobs won't stay down. Again My Runner comes to check on me. Again I send him packing; he exacts a kiss before he goes. I know I need to calm down. I have at least one more shift on the rink and I have to play fully. I'm mad at my penalty and mad that I can't get my head in the game and mostly I'm mad that I'm so freakin' mad! This game is supposed to be fun and I've preached it AT THIS VERY MATCH that we need to calm down and play our game. Way to listen to my own advice.

The rest of the game passes as I hold it all in and do my best to be present for the team. We don't win, the team is upset, and the bad calls (which robbed us of possibly two goals) has pissed of Cap'n Mop to a level I have rarely seen. However, MiniMcL's boyfriend is there from CT with his kickass camera - that means team photo time! Everyone shakes it off, congratulates each other on a great season, and smiles are (hopefully) genuine.

Unfortunately, my crankiness extends to the after-party (the waiter being a total 'tard didn't help either). I feel awful about my behavior that night... Lovely MiniMcL singing her love for me and all I could say was, "please stop." I couldn't explain that I didn't want to burst into tears at Margaritas. Face and Smarty looking at me with concern, then *getting* that that was the problem, instantly turned things around to cheer me up. I love those girls.

Despite my own personal horribleness, it's been a great Nerd Herd season. I love my team, its awesomeness and its faults. I love playing hockey. I want to work to be better. If the team can't work together to get practices organized, I've got to find a way to practice on my own. I think that's the only way I'm ever going to be satisfied (or at least have a chance of satisfaction) with my game.

OFFICIAL TEAM UNOFFICIAL RECAP:

The Nerd Herd entered the NHSSCHL playoffs riding a wave of confidence

following the most successful season in franchise history. They met a

familiar foe in the opening round, the Road Runners.

The game opened with a fired up Nerd herd squad taking advantage of an

odd man rush. Phil "Cowboy" Turbe sent Mike "Cap'n Mop" Grages running

free up the boards, and he centered it to Josh "The Cat" Robert, who

collected it and fired it home for an early 1-0 lead. Unperturbed by

the fast start of the Nerd Herd, the Roadrunners fired back, scoring 2

goals before the end of the first period to take a 2-1 lead into the

second. The Nerd Herd battled back, appearing to score the tying goal,

but it was waived off, as the referee had "intended to blow" the whistle

before the goal was scored.

The second period began with the Roadrunners expanding their lead to 3-1

before the Nerd Herd could answer back. Phil again fed the ball down

the boards to Matt "TTT" Tetrault, who was able to find Jon "Turbo"

Turcotte who took advantage and narrowed the gap to 3-2. The Herd

continued the charge as Keith "Classy" Chasse got the ball deep in the

zone, Mop collected it and found Josh for his second of the game,

knotting the score at 3. The Roadrunners again surged back, scoring two

more quick goals before Josh finished off his hattrick. Katie "Killer"

McLaughlin chipped the puck down deep to Mop, and he found Josh in the

slot. Josh rifled it home and again brought the Nerd Herd to within 1

at 5-4 at the end of the second period. The Nerd Herd again thought

they tied the game, but The officials waived it off, saying the ball hit

the post. Video review seemed to support the Nerd Herd side, but it was

not counted.

Unfortunately, that was as close as the Nerd Herd got. The Roadrunners

scored to open the lead to 6-4, and then capitalized on another

powerplay to close out scoring at 7-4. Despite their frantic efforts,

the Nerd Herd couldn't get on the board in the third period.

Winter Wonderland

What a fantastic weekend. I got to enjoy all the things I love: family, friends, outdoors, and theatre.

Friday night was supposed to be a "get stuff done" night, but my last three hours at work were one atrocity after another. I really needed a "relax and have fun" night. Face is a perfect companion for relaxing and having fun. I wanted to grab a few accessories to brighten up my outfit for her holiday party, and she was looking for a few last-minute odds n' ends for her annual shindig. One would think that going to stores and the mall during Christmas season would not be a relaxing evening, but anytime spent with Face is fun time. Finished off the evening at home with a bath and a glass of wine. Ahhhh...

Saturday My Runner was picking me up early (ok, 9:30am, but that's early for a Saturday) to hike Pawtuckaway with Sherpa and his Fiancee. I was really looking forward to the hike. I like Sherpa and Future Mrs. Sherpa (FMS), and it's been a while since we've all just hung out and talked. It was cold, but I was prepared (and had purchased Gaiters the night before - woohoo!) and stayed toasty.

We met the Sherpas in the parking lot, exchanged hellos and hugs, suited up, and were off. Sherpa was leading, and I know I should have been paying attention to the trails and where we were, but I was having so much fun breaking through the snow and catching up with FMS that I really just followed and enjoyed the surroundings. It's been years since I've been on a winter hike - the last one I really remember is when I was in Venture Class in high school. The sun kept us warm, the trees kept the wind off our backs, and the company kept our spirits high.

The sky was clear as we reached the lookout tower, but the wind was blowing icy cold. We all ventured (with varying degrees of trepidation) up the narrow staircase of the lookout tower to enjoy the view. Sherpa pointed out landmarks: Uncanoonuc Mts., North and Middle Mts., and Pawtuckaway Lake, among others. The view was great, the rolling land laid out with a blanket of snow and ice, the sun reflecting off the water like a mirror. As beautiful as the view was, the wind drove us back into the woods. We hiked for a total of 3.5 hrs, on snowy and icy trails with an occasional break on a dirt road.

Back at the parking lot we said a fond farewell to the Sherpas and piled our stinky sweaty bodies in the truck. Two quick errands - meeting up with the buyer of My Runner's bike stand and grabbing taco stuff for lunch - and we were back at home.

I get so busy sometimes I forget how great it is to just bum around the house. Cooking lunch, eating, playing around on the computer, napping - just being with My Runner is fun.

We had a busy evening scheduled too. My show was in Nashua at 8pm, and we were leaving after my portion of the evening (around 8:30) to head to Mop and Face's Christmas party. The show went really well. It was an evening of short plays by playwrights that Yellow Taxi Productions has worked with in the past. The show I directed was the first up, taking place in the lobby of the Hunt Memorial Building in Nashua. One of my favorite things about Yellow Taxi is how they think outside the box when it comes to presenting shows. The show, by Brian Dykstra, is titled "Service/Order" and the plot revolves around a set of stairs that is out of service. We used the stairs located in the lobby - essentially Site Specific theatre. We also didn't make a formal announcement that the show was starting, nor did we have set seating (we did have chairs for our older patrons, of course). This resulted in a show where audience members were sometimes standing right between two characters that were having a conversation! I had done my best to prepare my actors for the surprises of the audience, and they did very well. I was proud of them, and happy with my work.

"Service/Order" completed, My Runner and I were off to our party. This was especially exciting to me because until a few days ago I didn't think My Runner would be coming with me. He wasn't really interested when I first invited him. I really didn't want him to go if he wasn't going to have a good time, and I certainly am not the kind of person to "make decisions" for other people, but I just couldn't understand why he was so against it. Still, I talked with him one more time about it, then let the matter drop. I'm a big girl and I don't *need* a date to have fun at a party, nor do I have an issue going places by myself. He knew how I felt and I knew (I thought) how he felt and that was that. I'm not really sure what changed his mind, but I was happy that he was with me. My friends are pretty awesome and fun and I knew he would end up having a good time.

I think I can chalk it up to this: he's in a different place now, I'm in a different place now, and WE'RE in a different place now. And that's all the detail I'll go into for the moment. :-)

Face and Mop's Christmas Party is an annual tradition. Face is the consummate hostess, refilling drinks and the punch bowl generously, putting thought into every detail down to napkin rings and wine glass markers, yet always circulating about the party chatting with her guests and spreading good cheer. The Annual Christmas Party is a great time to reconnect with folks we don't get to see often. I chatted, My Runner (after hiding in the basement with Chewie the cat for a few minutes... the party WAS loud) chatted, we were together, we were separate, we drank and ate and had a grand ol' time.

Me and Smarty, making her best "I hate you but I love you" face

Schmoop moment: I love watching him at parties. He's a really great conversationalist and slips into meeting new people with ease. He always actively listens, and is able to talk to just about anyone (including a "very happy" Smarty Pants, much to my delight - how I'd like to have been a fly on the wall of THAT conversation...). Yeah, he's pretty great. End schmoop moment.

It was a long day, and I had a race in the morning, so we cut out relatively early around midnight. I was happy to hear My Runner had a nice time (and I didn't even say "I told you so," see how good I am?) and happier when we got to my house and snuggled up in bed. I was the epitome of content as I drifted off to sleep in his arms.

.... and the alarm went off soooooooo early......

Feaster Five - Results

31:18, 10:05 minute miles

9000+ participants

Feaster 5, Andover, MA
Thanksgiving Day, 2009

My alarm went off at 6:25am. And again at 6:31. And again at 6:37, which is when I finally sat up and started putting on my clothes. My Runner mumbled, groaned, and turned over, a kitteh coming into the room to take my recently vacated warm spot. As I sat up my head felt like it was gonna fall off. Normally I don't have hangovers, but between the small amount of water I had the night before and the approximately 3 hours of sleep, I was, as Auntie Mame would say, "indisposed." I was excited for my race, no doubt, but I silently cursed Pocket Sized in that moment for picking the Feaster Five; not only did it start at an early 8:30am but it was 68 miles away. After a few more smooches and a promise to call him with my results, I pulled myself away from My Runner's warm embrace and headed down the interstate.

Pocket and I had spoken the previous night about meeting at her house in Nash and travelling together to Andover. The trip from her house to Andover normally takes about 30 minutes, but with race traffic, parking, getting to the start line, etc., we figured we would leave her house about 7:30. I was running pretty much on time coming from EBF where Runner lives, thanks to the minimal traffic on Thanksgiving morning and my little car being able to get up to 80-85mph. But I left My Runner's house without coffee (he doesn't drink it - can you believe?) or breakfast, so I desperately needed both. It was 7:30 exactly as I got off the exit to Pocket's house, and stopped by the Dunk's in the Shell station which was about the only place I saw open that morning.

While I was inside I got a phone call from Pocket. She was nervous, upset, thinking I had headed straight down to Andover. Since I was less than 3 minutes from her house when I got the message, I decided not to return her call. She seemed a little relieved when I got there, but it was 7:42, we were a little behind schedule, and really needed to get going. I had never done this before, she is sort of naturally cranky at that time of morning (sorry, Pocket, but you are - it's the theatre in you), so we both were agitated as we got into her car and headed to MA.

We pulled off the highway into Andover at 8:05 - good timing. As we're heading down the off ramp we both exclaim as we see cars PARKED ON THE GRASS ON THE OFF RAMP. Seriously. Pocket asks, "Should I just... park here?" and I'm all for it. Her little Saturn takes the granite curb admirably, she centers the car on the curve of the ramp as best she can, and we're ready to head. She's dressed in running tights, with a tech shirt from a recent race and a sport coat from Ann Taylor that looks both comfortable and fashionable. I'm mis-matched in my navy yoga pants, black VT50 shirt earned from crewing (yeah, I mixed black and navy, what of it?), and olive green random long-sleeved shirt from Target. She looks like a runner. I look like a slob. See:

Pocket Sized is the only thing keeping this photo from peopleofwalmart.com

I swear I did not mean to have my shirt up so you could see my mis-match-y-ness. I did not intend to hunch over so you had no idea that I'm almost half a foot taller than Pocket. This is pre-race and I admittedly look like hell, though I was feeling pretty good. The ibuprofen, coffee, and third of a bagel helped the hangover, and the nerves were there, but harnessable.

As we headed to the starting line we couldn't help but notice the crowd. We knew it was a big race - the website had said over 8,000 people participated last year, and Sherpa had also mentioned the crowds when I told him what race I was running. But nothing - NOTHING - prepared me for what I saw. A SEA of people. The stats at the top of this post indicate that over 9,000 people ran, plus spectators. o. m. g.

We worked our way up near the pacing block for 10 minute milers - the approximate pace we had been running while training. We were still in the back third of the crowd, though, and unable to get farther up. Once the race officially started, it took us at least 5 minutes to get past the starting line, and even then it was like being on the treadmill as it worked it's way from half a mile an hour to you desired pace. Running with that many other people was like driving in commuter rush hour traffic. We were constantly dodging people who were slower, trying to stay out of the way of faster people, folks would abruptly stop in front of us, or "change lanes" and cut us off.

I was running the 5K, but Pocket was running the 5 mile. Both paths started together, so for a bit we chatted about the craziness of the amount of people and strategized moving around them, commented on the silly things we saw some folks wearing, and coo'ed over babies in cute outfits. The courses ran together for the first mile of the race, which included the first "big" hill up Main St. in Andover. It was long, but we adjusted our strides, kept our arms pumping, and made it through. I was proud of both of us. Huffing a little, I still was in good spirits as we topped the hill, but sad to part ways with Pocket. She had her ipod to keep her company, but I had left mine in my car. It turned out not to be a bad decision for me - I was grateful.

As we parted ways I was able to take in my surroundings a little better. There were so, no SO... no SOOOOO many people. It was incredibly crowded. I spent a lot of my time passing or dodging or just people watching. All ages were running - two girls who couldn't have been more than 9 running as comfortable as-could-be well into the second mile, chatting away so much like me and Pocket that I had a glimpse into their future. An older man passed me, grunting with every breath he took. He sounded like he was being tortured. Moms and Dads encouraging their kids, or alternatively asking them if they needed to walk (that burned me - don't underestimate them! They'll walk when they need to!). Folks running alone with their music in their ears, other folks with friends.

The race pretty much took over the town of Andover. Entire roads were closed. People were spectating all along the race course, which was great. I didn't hear a lot of cheering, which made me a little sad, but knowing that people were watching kept me from walking. When I did hear cheering, I made sure to make eye contact, and if I could, thank them. I remember what it was like cheering - kinda boring and repetitive - but now that I was on the other end I appreciated it sooo much.

The 5 mile course re-joined the 5K course a couple of times, though the race coordinators tried to keep them in separate lanes. It seemed like they assumed the 5 milers were the "more serious" racers and would be running at a faster pace than the 5K'ers. Which, for the most part, was true, but I must say I weaved into the 5 miler lane to pass many, many people running the 5K. I always checked behind me - I wouldn't want to impede anyone trying to get a good time, but the 5K lane had so many people running (or walking) so slowly that it was hard to get through.

There was a clock at the 2 mile mark - the time was 25 minutes when I passed it. I was a little bummed... I had been running 10 minute miles in training, and while I expected to be a little slower because of the hills and the dodging, I didn't expect to add 2.5 minutes to my mile! It was then I realized that the clock had started with the start gun, not when *I* crossed the start line. I had no watch, no ipod, no way of keeping my own time or of knowing how far I'd come or how much I had left. All I had was running.

It was then that I really started to enjoy running. I had nothing to track my time or distance, so I had nothing to think about but my body running. And honestly I can say that this was the first time I truly enjoyed it. I felt great. I relaxed into my body, which fell into its pace. I looked at the houses and woods and roads around me. I let my breathing happen as needed. I felt the ground beneath my feet, the air around me, and the sky above me. I was surrounded by people but my experience was singular.

This feeling stayed with me for the rest of the race. It was interrupted only twice - once when two 5milers passed me shortly after the 2 mile mark, one saying, "Home stretch, buddy," which I figured then and now know to be COMPLETELY untrue (how dare he trick my brain into thinking it might be time for naps!), and again when the same girl passed me twice only to stop abruptly and walk right in front of me. Both times.

We were approaching Main St. again, so I knew we were actually on the final stretch now. We were headed up hill, but it was a pretty gradual grade, and I so had to pee and was so excited to cross the finish that I barely noticed. A theatre colleague who also ran the race commented on the "final hill" on my facebook page, and honestly I had to think long and hard to figure out what he was talking about. I never noticed it was hard - I was too busy being excited. It wasn't easy, but it certainly wasn't hard, and here I was, finishing my first 5K. 3.1 miles, on the ground, mostly by myself, running the whole way, no walking, no whining, no crying, no pouting, just running. And kinda liking it.

I crossed the finish line at 36:20. I was pretty happy with that time, then remembered that it took use time to cross the finish and was excited - maybe I even did this in under 30 minutes!! But whatever - TIME TO PEE screamed my body. Waiting in line for the port-a-johns, I felt a tap on the shoulder and heard a "Hey!!"

It was D! She had mentioned weeks ago that she might run the Feaster, but we never re-connected. Here she was! We hugged, discussed the race, congratulated each other. D is A Runner, in the way that I want to be. She's done marathons, she runs, but she's not some crazy chick who runs 8 million miles a week and only eats whole grains and protein shakes. She's lovely and fun and I hope to run with her soon. It was great to see her there! We wished each other a happy Thanksgiving, she went to get her pie and I went to pee.

After gathering my pie and complementary post-race snacks and water, I went back to the finish line to wait for Pocket. I knew she averaged a 10-minute mile, but I had a feeling that she was going to run faster than that today. Even though she hadn't had time to do much running this week, I just knew that the competitive spirit of the race would infuse her and make her pick up her pace. I was right - she came across the finish line at 52:01 - less than 15 minutes after me even though she had run 2 miles further. Hugging, pie, snacks, etc., we headed back to the car.

Celebratory photos with our pie:

I definitely had some post-race euphoria. Called My Runner, as I said I would. It was nice to hear him say he was proud of me. But it was great to say that I had achieved my goals - I finished, and I had run the whole thing. I was happy with my time, even though I didn't know it exactly. And I had fun. I couldn't believe it, but I actually had fun. I had been looking at another 5K in NH - a trail run in Hollis, but didn't want to commit until I had actually run the first race I signed up for. Now I knew I was kinda hooked, and convinced Pocket to sign up with me (though it's in December and she won't run if it's too cold... anyone want to contribute advice about cold-weather running gear?)

So..... that's the VERY long story about my kinda short run. But it will always be my first race, and I will always be happy about it. I had a great experience with Pocket, and I learned a lot about myself. I've done a lot of things I never thought I could do, but I've rarely done things I never thought I *would* do... and even more rarely have I decided that I was previously WRONG in my thinking. There's probably some message about how this has made me a stronger person, blah blah blah, and maybe it has, but...

Wow... maybe it has...

Thanks, Pocket, for helping me along this journey.