I look like I'm having more fun than I am

There are many hazards that come with running. I've documented many of them here. Often. One that I haven't ever documented, though, is chafing (mostly because people feel uncomfortable talking about it). I'm not going to go into it in detail here (I'll spare you); I only mention it here because in the past two days I've been chafed not only by my swimsuit (it's been years since that's happened...maybe because it's been years since I swam as hard as I did on Monday) but by one of my running shirts. I have one nice scab and two nice bright red raw marks on my neck and collarbone. Needless to say I'm wearing a high-necked shirt at work today. This has happened before with my running shirts and the looks and questions at work are always uncomfortable. I wish I had a better story, but alas...

On another note, I had maybe the best peanut butter/chocolate drop cookie I've ever had last night, and that's saying something. Leanna described so perfectly what made the cookie perfect: there was just the right amount of chocolate to get a bit of it with every bite. Plus the chocolate was so creamy and the cookie didn't fall apart at any point. I have to go back to that bakery and get more.

Robin Hood Season 2 arrives tonight. I couldn't be happier.

Channeling the Spirit of Coach Barnett

I'm not gonna lie, this week has been challenging. I'm tired from my training, I haven't been feeling well (don't worry, it's not swine flu), my room has been a sauna (not the good Jamaican kind), I'm studying for my tests (which includes reading some books that I just don't get/enjoy), and juggling what feels like a thousand other small tasks and emotions. Wednesday night I could feel myself bending under the pressure but tried to keep a good sense of humor about it all. But yesterday, when I found out an attorney who works across the street from us had committed suicide in his office that morning, I lost it. Like started crying at my desk. Wow, Bradshaw. Pull yourself together. Mom said I should just go home and try to regroup, but, refusing to be defeated, I pulled myself together, finished my day, and went home on time like a responsible adult. But then I did what I do best when I need to cope: I went running.

Usually by Thursday, my body feels pretty beat up by the workouts of the week. I usually tell myself I'm going to do a speed workout but usually end up doing something long and slow. Yesterday, however, I decided I would never know how tough I was until I pushed through those feelings of fatigue. I pretended Coach Barnett was running the workout. There's no way he would give me the day off just because I was "tired." He would have laughed at me. He would have expected me to run so hard I thought my lungs would explode and my legs would ignite and crumble beneath me. He would have told me that was the only way I was ever going to have a chance of making it to the finals. So I decided to see how fast I could run a 10k.

When I finished the first 5k in 21:30, I thought, "A 5k time trial is good enough, right?" Then the image of Barnett popped into my head, screaming at me from across the track with arms waving and ponytail flying when he saw my turnover flagging and my arms creeping up towards my chest. I dug a little deeper, shook out my arms, pushed off harder, put my feet down faster, and settled in for another 5k.

In the end, I beat my old 10k PR by almost a full 2 minutes. I've always wondered what it would feel like to run one in 45 minutes. Now I know: it hurts. But it's possible. Suddenly my training didn't feel for naught; all that fatigue suddenly felt right and proper. Suddenly I'm dreading leg 3 of Ragnar just a little bit less. (But only a little bit.)

Bed: 1. Julie: 3.

I hate it when my bed beats me.

I'm not quite sure why this week has felt so long, but it has. The workouts have been hard but not that hard. (Okay, so maybe the hills on Tuesday hurt a little, and those 50s fly we did yesterday were hard...) I was all set for a track workout this morning. My alarm went off. I turned over. My ribs hurt. Then my left leg cramped. My stomach growled. My bed was warm. My nose was cold. My phone was under my pillow (not sure how it ended up there, but then again I also had a couple of books in bed with me so I probably fell asleep mid-something). I took those all as signs that I could and should skiv off the morning's workout. I texted Katie to let her know I wouldn't be picking her up in 15 minutes. Then I turned back over and went back to bed. It felt great to sleep and my achilles probably thanks me for the rest, but when I finally got up I couldn't help feeling like I had just gotten outkicked at the end of a race. Tomorrow, though, I will prevail.

On another note, I got into work today and found this lovely gem of a video waiting for me.



I get on dancing kicks every once in a while. My most recent one ended about a month ago and while I'm not really ready to get back into it just yet, seeing videos like this one makes me wish I had a dance partner with whom I would put together great routines like this one. These two are pretty much the best west coast swing dancers in the world. I got to see them dance last year and it really is quite a sight.

And now I'll leave you on the best note ever. Tomorrow I leave for Jamaica! I couldn't be happier about it. I really need a break right now and what better way to get said break than around some warmth and water. I'm also hopeful that the weekend will provide more interesting stories than I have been feeding you all for the last few weeks. I'm thinking with 4 women, an island resort, and no set plans, there's no way it can possibly disappoint. Cross your fingers!

Warm Weather Wish List

Today was definitely a Monday. I woke up to run at 5:30 after not nearly enough sleep, and in my stupor locked the door behind me without bringing my keys with me. My legs were exhausted from the last few weeks and so my run was painfully slow. Add in the fact that I was worrying about how I was going to get back into my house without waking my roommates far earlier than they needed to be woken, and by the time I got back from my run it had already felt like a long morning. As I packed my bag for work, I realized I'd misplaced my earphones and had left my iPod in my car. So I took out my spare earphones and grabbed my iPod on my way to the metro, only to find that the cold weather had zapped my battery so i had no tunes to get me to and from work. By the time I got to work, I was really ready to go back to bed. I just had a hard time getting going today. I was moving pretty slowly until my boss yelled from his office that he needed something I was supposed to have gotten to him about an hour earlier (but I felt no sense of urgency, clearly because I hadn't checked his morning schedule to see the conference call he'd added last night...[sigh]). That woke me up pretty quickly and thankfully the rest of the day went fairly smoothly. However, it left me longing for the warmer, longer, seemingly quieter days of summer. The last couple of years I've taken to making a warm weather wish list, and I tend to make that list on rainy spring days when my pining is at its apex. This year that would be today.


In no particular order, these are the things I've had a hankering to do today.


go to a Nats game
backyard bbq
slip 'n slide
hiking
camping
Florida/Disneyworld
waterfight
attend at least one thing at Wolftrap
see Ragtime at the Kennedy Center (not really a warm weather thing, but it's on my list of things to do)
take an international trip that requires a backpack and a good sense of adventure
read books in the park
play kickball
go to a state or county fair
swing on the swingset
watch sunsets
road trips with the sunroof open
Air Force memorial concerts
jazz in the sculpture garden
relearn how to play tennis
more hiking and camping
go to the beach (preferably at home with some friends--start planning now--but I'll take anything at this point)
dance in the rain
lots and lots of bike rides
lay in a field and tell stories


With a list like that, how can you not be happy, even on a dreary spring day.


This is going to be a good summer...

Mystery subscription

I'll admit, sometimes I don't read fine print or I click boxes that I assume are waivers so I can get to the next page. However, I'm usually pretty careful when clicking those boxes involve committing myself to something long-term or when it involves money. That's why I can't for the life of me figure out how I started receiving this magazine:

I already subscribe to Runners' World and have been considering subscribing to Running Times (the mystery subscription) but haven't done anything about it. At least I don't think I did. No charge has shown up on my credit card, no bill has come in the mail (yet), and the April and May editions of this magazine showed up in the mail at my house yesterday. I'm so confused.

Is someone sending me magazine subscriptions secretly? If so, will you tell me who you are so I can properly thank you? Because I am really excited about this new magazine.

A boring, mish-mash day

1. I've been listening to the same two songs on repeat for the last 2 days.

2. In an attempt to get my hands on my SAT scores, I've discovered I need to submit by mail, a form to drudge my scores out of the SAT archives. It brought to my remembrance the days of yore when I had to register for college classes over the phone and I felt a teeny bit old.

3. Generic allergy medicine does not equal brand name. I will never make that mistake again.

4. I watched a movie this past weekend that made me want to compete in track and field again real bad. I've been working hard to move from marathon mode to 10k-and-below mode but I forget how much "quick" hurts. I'm not used to my lungs feeling like they're going to explode, but I kind of like it. Today I noticed that, tired as I was, there were hints of that old familiar feeling of sore but strong muscles that can and will work through anything. Mmmmm...I can almost smell the hot rubber of an all-weather track now...

5. I had an inexplicable urge to watch a Bollywood movie while on my run yesterday and my celebrity-crush on Hrithik Roshan came rushing back. I kind of want to watch Kaho Naa Pyaar Hai. Or Krrish.

One of my favorite clips from KNPH, for your viewing pleasure:


And maybe a picture of Hrithik, just so you get the idea:


6. I ate a cookie on Sunday and felt sick. I haven't had one since then. I got a little scared today that perhaps -- I'm almost afraid to say it outloud -- I'm reexperiencing an extended period of time during college wherein I lost all desire for sweets. I suppose there are worse things in life, but still, it was a strange realization.

7. I had a really funny thought when I woke up this morning but I can't for the life of me remember what it was. Then around mid-morning for some reason a quote from the movie Emma to my mind: "And I know how you like news." I love that quote. And I love that movie, except for the middle part with Jane Fairfax and all that nonsense. I always have to fast-forward through the picnic scene because it's just so uncomfortable.

8. The sunrise was beautiful this morning.

9. Today, due to a series of events I will not outline here because (if you can believe it) they are more boring than the rest of this blog posting, I revisited the story of David and the Bathsheba aftermath. You know, the part where the prophet Nathan tells David the parable or the rich man taking the poor man's only lamb and then tells David "thou art the man." I remember the first time I was taught about David's fall. I felt so betrayed that all through primary we learned about David and Goliath and about David's friendship with Jonathan and all these wonderful things and then BAM! You get to seminary and learn about Bathsheba and all that mess...I remember that day in seminary so clearly. I literally cried through most of the day. It was the cause of some great soul searching during my sophomore year. Every time I think about that story, my heart feels so heavy, both because it is so tragic and because feeling the weight of the Lord's chastisement is my worst nightmare. Basically, he told David, I've given you everything, and had you felt like it wasn't enough, I would have given you more. And yet, and yet...you had to go and take the one thing you shouldn't have taken, and that was where you fouled up. You can hear the love wrapped up in the tremendous disappointment and feeling of tragedy in God's voice. My worst fear, truly, is for God to be disappointed in me because of a lack of faith and obedience.

10. Can't end on that downer. I found, no joke, an eyebrow about an inch long this morning, hiding. In fact, the only reason I saw it was because sometime, somehow it had turned BLONDE. Weird. I plucked that sucker right out. I almost sent it to you, Tom. You know why.

[insert big fat smiley face right here]

During lunch I went to buy these:

Which I did.

But I also bought these:

[insert big fat smiley face right here]

You might be asking why I need two new pairs of running shoes (and why the second pair makes me smile bigger than the first pair). Or you might not actually care, in which case you should stop reading because I'm going to explain and it might be boring for you.

The pair on top, the Mizuno Wave Creation 10, are my trainers, the pair I do my long runs in, the pair that are for sure going to take care of my feet, shins, knees, and back. They are my reliables. I realized the other day I had put close to 450 miles on my current pair (oops!) instead of the 350 I thought I was at. (You really should only put about 350-400 miles on a pair of shoes, especially if you are injury-prone.) So yeah, I needed a new pair. Check. Nice, but not necessarily exciting.

Now the Brooks Racer ST4...those are exciting. Why? Well, because they are racers. What are racers? Racers = speed (they weigh less than half what the Mizunos weigh), and it's been years since I've put on a pair (even though I've been researching them almost every year). These babies make track workouts fun, hill workouts easier, and races faster. These babies are going to take me to a sub-6 mile this summer.

I saw them. I wanted.

I succumbed to temptation.

I tried on a pair. I caved. I bought.

I'm so excited.

p.s. On a completely unrelated note, I just saw an advertisement for X-Men Origins: Wolverine and got a little shiver of anticipation. I can hardly wait.

New crimes, new culprits

Today is one of those glorious days where blog material after blog material comes screaming into my life. And it's only 10:00 in the morning.

Let's start with the fact that I was a touch late to work because I stood in the shower for far too long this morning. I keep looking at the weekend forecast, looking heavenward and kissing the sky for the forecasted 70 degrees we are going to be blessed with on Saturday, and thinking that my runs in the morning should feel like that balmy. Yeah, no. There's still snow on the trail. And ice. Not a ton, but enough to make my feet sore and me nervous about breaking or twisting something. Anyway, the shower was divine and it's going to be 70 degrees on Saturday. Gosh, okay, the weather = not interesting blog material. But all that was to get us to breakfast.

Everyone seemed to be running late today, not just me, which made me sad because preparing lunches and eating breakfast is sometimes my favorite part of the day with my roommates. It's where we talk about the previous night's activities, dreams we've had the night before (usually that's just me), plans for after work... There was no time for details this morning, only allusions to funny stories that must be shared. The suspense is killing me. I do love a good story.

Then, I got into work. On the high of story delight, I was called back down to "reality" upon the discovery of a new printer issue. Yeah, remember how this blog started? The confession involving the legal assistant who never filled the printer with paper and my daily routine of ream...opening? Read here if you're lost. The rest of this story won't make sense otherwise, and as this is the incident this post has been building up to, it's really in your best interest to read it. Ahem, anyway. As I was saying, we now have a new culprit and a new crime.

Lately, when the orange light blinks and I walk over to fill the printer with paper, I find that someone has already been there. Recently. How do I know? There is an almost complete ream of paper still inside a mangled wrapper sitting by the printer. Whomever is doing this is simply putting just enough paper in the printer to finish their print job. What?! I have two issues with this:

1. It seems incredibly self-centered to put in just enough paper for your own print job and no one else who might come after you. It is, after all, a shared printer. And what about the next print job you're going to send there? Huh? What are you going to do then? Just put the whole ream in. Then I won't have to look at the mangled shreds of your attempt. Which takes us to number two.

2. (And this probably should have been number one) Why are you mangling the wrapper?! It hurts my heart to see it opened so haphazardly. For several reasons. The first being my need for order and cleanliness. I don't know why it extends to the ream of paper, but it does. Second, it's like finding out that girl you don't really know but get the feeling that you don't really like has started dating your ex-boyfriend. She doesn't necessarily know that every time you see them together a little part of your heart aches, so she goes about her business, oblivious to everything but her own needs and happiness. Okay, so maybe that's a little dramatic. I mean, it's not like I anxiously await my opportunity to fill the printer with paper, but it does feel a little strange to know that someone else is doing it, and doing it without the thoughts that plague me. I sort of wish sometimes that I could live a more normal life with a less-active imagination and/or internal dialogue. But then, I wouldn't be me and this blog would be a lot more boring.

All of this, along with poorly-chosen g-chat statuses and subsequent chats have given me quite the entertaining morning.

I hope the afternoon passes a little more quietly. Wait, no I don't.

[sigh]

Too bad Arlington County doesn't offer this kind of service (well, minus the breaking down part).



6+ inches of snow = stuck on the treadmill tonight. 10 miles have never loomed so...but we're three weeks out so there's no messing around. Attitude is everything, right? I should have just gotten out and run in the fluffy snow at 6 a.m. like I'd planned, but that howling wind...oh the wind...and the thought of wet feet with that wind...[sigh] Treadmill it is. Pray for warmer weather.

Multiple Confessions

Confession:

Whenever I type the word "marathon" without fail I first type "marathong" and then have to go back and fix it, provided I actually catch my mistake.

What does that say about my typing autopilot?

******

I'm running another marathong in five weeks, March 21. I'm on a cookie fast from now until then in an attempt to fine tune the running machine. I made it through day one (yesterday) without a hitch. I'm also doing fine today. Funny how sometimes the switch just flips and it's not hard at all. Funny how I feel like I have almost no control over when that switch gets flipped. It's like I just wake up one morning and decide. Like yesterday, when I was waking up from a Candy Cane Jo Jo Shake hangover it was really easy to promise myself that no matter how fun the party is, I simply will not partake.

Dumb Trader Joes. Selling Candy Cane Jo Jos for 99 cents long after we thought we were safe from their clutches. Maybe the cookie fast will get harder once I detox, but I think I'm committed.

I think.

I hope.

The shakes really were amazing...

Thursday's Wish

Thursday's Wish:

For winter to be over.

I have been such a good girl this year. I haven't complained much about the frigid temperatures we've been experiencing this year. I finally bought the right training gear, a proper winter coat, and a hat and this winter has been the most bearable one in my almost six years out east. I told myself the frozen-over Potomac was beautiful; it hasn't done that since my second winter here. I told myself the geese sitting on a sheet of ice, squaking at runners as they ran by, were cute (after I laughed at the thought that maybe they were there because their feet were frozen in the ice or their bums had somehow adhered themselves to the river). I thought the construction cone sitting in the middle of the Tidal Basin was funny. I also thought it was funny when the water in my fuel belt froze through on one of my long runs. I feel so tough training in this. But when I come home from a run and my hair is in icicle dreadlocks...for the fourth straight day... and my skin is bright red even though I have been wearing three layers...and I get caught in a snow downpour and start sliding all over the roads when I'm already really tired of running...and the trail takes a week to de-ice, and even then there are still treacherous patches you can't see until it's too late and you start screaming like a girl and everyone wonders why until they hit the same patch of ice... it's just time for it to be done. I've had my opposition. I'm ready to appreciate spring.

Cherry blossoms, why do you feel so far away?

Speaking of cherry blossoms..... They signify warmth, longer days, the kite festival, and..... a visit from the Mama. And while we're here and blogging and on the topic of the Mama...

Last night I received a Valentine's package from my parents. I opened it to find a container of "Cupid Corn", some Jolly Rancher suckers, and a tube of mascara. I thought a few things: 1. That's nice of Mom to not send me this thing absolutely full of candy; 2. A tube of mascara is a funny thing to send instead of candy; 3. It looks a little beat up...maybe she got it from the dollar bin at Target...I'll give it a shot. I tried it this morning and really liked it.

I called Mom this afternoon to thank her for the package.

"Hi Mom. Kim declared me the mail winner last night since I got your Valentine's Day package. Thanks for the mascara. I tried it this morning and I really liked it." Silence on the other end. "Hello? Mom?"
"I'm here."
"Did you hear what I said? I really like that mascara."
"Well... isn't it yours?"
"What?"
"Didn't you leave it here when you were home for Christmas?"
"No."
"Oh. I sent it to you because I thought it was yours."
"Oh. I thought you sent it to me to fill the package with something other than candy."
"No, I really thought it was yours. It was in the bathroom after you left after Christmas."
"Yeah, now that I'm thinking about it I remember you asked me before I left if it was mine and I told you no."
"Oh. I thought you told me yes."
"No."
"Oh." ... "Did you like the Cupid Corn?"
"Yes, of course. You know I love candy corn. Thank you! I just mentioned the mascara first because I thought it was interesting that you'd send me that and that it was kind of beat up and not in a package or anything."
"No, I just threw it in at the end. The Cupid Corn was supposed to be what you were excited about."
"Oh. Well I am. I was just confused about the mascara. But thanks! They are both great."

We then proceeded to laugh pretty hard (Mom apparently fogged up her glasses because she was laughing so hard she was crying).

Maybe next week I'll tell you about my dad and his wheat milk experiment ... I love my family.

Oh, and if you visited my house this Christmas season and left an orange tube of mascara that looks like this:

Let me know. I'll mail it to you.

Taco Tuesday Confessions - all dried up?

I've been trying to think all day of a really good confession, one along the lines of the one that birthed this blog. But alas, I can't think of any more incriminating confessions that I haven't already blogged about. Is it possible my reserve is all dried up? Have I really become so boring that I haven't created any more confession-worthy experiences? Or am I merely wising up in my propensity to share?

Maybe I should open it up for you to confess for me? Incriminating stories? That could be dangerous. Maybe you all should confess something for a change. (Do I allow anonymous comments on this blog? I don't think so.) Hmmm. What to do, what to do...

On another note: Not confession-worthy, but noteworthy (for me). I know I told many of you I swore I'd never do another marathon, but I decided to make an exception so that I could have a comeback story for myself (of sorts). i've been slowly working my way back for the last three months (well, five months really, but calculated training for the last three).  I finally went on a seriously long run a couple of weeks ago and felt great. It was the first time since August that I really felt like myself health-wise. I was beat, but it was the normal kind of beat. The beat you expect to feel after 18 miles. I felt really grateful that my body has healed completely (one month sooner than the doctor had anticipated even!) and that I'm right on target for a successful race. 7 weeks and counting until the big day. Then the real fun begins. Maybe another race in April (we'll see how this marathon goes), Ragnar Relay in NY in May, triathlon #1 in June, have fun and gear up during July and August for triathlon #2 in September. It's going to be a great race season. I actually have more than one person to train with this time around so it's almost like being part of a team again. It's made me the happiest I've been in a while (athletically speaking, anyway, which I guess does translate to general happiness).

But seriously, refocusing from the side note of the comeback.  Help the blog.  Confess.  Please.

The week in summary

Behold,

A summary of one aspect (or two) of my training this week...

A summary of my eating habits this week...


The sum of these parts equals a whole...

A great, big, sad black hole.

I hate these kinds of weeks.

How is it possible for me to have so much discipline in one area of my life while failing so dismally in another?

1 of 3 Things

An excerpt from a gchat conversation with Katie earlier today:

Julie: our random conversations = I love
Katie: but have you ever noticed that most of our "random" conversations come back to 1 of three things?
speedos
poo
cookies
Julie: (or raisins)
and yes
I love that they all degenerate into some form of that
Katie: entropy.
its inevitible.
Julie: it's going on the blog
Katie: I can't wait.

Some explanation, simply to enhance your enjoyment of the confession.

1. Speedos: Katie and I discovered our shared...non-aversion to speedos one evening during one of those "we're-so-tired-we're-delirous" girl-chat moments. I don't think I should share anything beyond that.

2. Poo: Katie and I have been training partners for 3 years now and have shared a lot of...moments. One thing about training is that all sense of propriety goes out the window. (Mostly modesty and things like that.) Along with bad behavior comes somewhat inappropriate conversation. We sort of talk indiscriminately about things that probably aren't considered polite and almost inevitably it degenerates into poo-talk of some kind. I won't sell either of us out beyond that, but let's just say one of us is always happy to see a port-a-potty and one of us wishes the body would cooperate to make use of it. Both situations create plenty of running drama and lots of funny stories. Most of which should not be shared outside of the car...if at all. Add in the hospital drama from last year, and the fact that Katie is a doctor, and, yeah...poo: it's always funny. To us anyway.

3. a. Cookies: Really? Do I have to explain this? b. Raisins: Take all my blogs about cookies and substitute the word "raisins" [shudder for the momentary blasphemy] and you've got Katie's world. Her raisin-love is equal to my cookie-love. It's really quite shocking.

On a totally unrelated note, and not that you really care anyway, but this is my 100th post. The blog is coming up on its 1 year anniversary too. Have I really been allowing you all this window into my life for so long? Amazing. And quite possibly very stupid.


Poo! Cookies! Speedos!

Ha ha. [sigh] They will always be funny.

Thursday's wish

I want.

I'm only allowing myself to spend a very small portion of my Christmas bonus on something I want. I think I've spent it about three times over in my mind. I really have to nail it down soon, like before tomorrow, which is when I actually get the bonus, so I can stop thinking about it.

I don't want much, just a GPS running watch that tells me how far I've run at what pace and at what rate of calorie burnage...and it's such a great deal at Costco. Nevermind the other expenses that I should probably be channeling this money towards...or the fact it would look great in savings...or...or...or...

Why do I feel so tortured when it comes to spending money on myself?!

But I really want it. I swear the mile markers on the Mt. Vernon trail are wrong, and I'd like the opportunity to prove my internal running odometer/pace clock.

Did I mention you can upload the info from the watch to your computer so that you can track your training?...

Clothes, safety, pain, and the good old days

Cherie was in town last week, and the one night I actually got in bed on time so I could run the next morning, she asked me what I think about when I run. I've been running competitively off and on for about 15 years and have logged thousands of miles, and months (maybe years) of time on the road, both alone and with groups. Surely I know what I think about when I run, right? But I still had to think about it. I took a minute and determined that if I'm out of shape, I usually can't stop thinking about how gross I feel and how difficult 8:30 mile pace is and shouldn't be. If I'm in shape, I usually make lists in my head, give myself a hard time about how fast I used to be, and check my form out in the reflection of car and store-front windows. We talked a little bit more about it and exercise in general before we hit the lights. Talking about running always makes me feel tough and so I woke up the next morning feeling pretty good. It didn't hurt that it was only the second time that week I'd actually made it out of bed in time to exercise...

Cherie is now gone (boo-sad) and I'm back on my normal schedule. Sort of. I woke up this morning severely undercommited to the cause. Mondays are always hard running days for me, not because I try to do an ambitious workout, but because I always eat badly on Sundays (what?! it's the perfect cookie day!) and inevitably stay up too late. 5:30 a.m. on Monday morning hurts. I will admit, it's usually one of my rest days for the week, but I'm training for a 10k and this is an important week of training (we're only three weeks away!). So I dragged myself out of bed and kept telling myself I will feel better once I get out the door. Plus, I just spent an obscene amount of money on new running clothes this weekend, so I told myself that I wanted to see how the new socks and shirt would work out, and off I went.

About halfway through my run I remembered my conversation with Cherie and scrolled back through my thoughts on the run. I couldn't help but laugh. They were nothing like what I told her! They were ridiculous, and all over the place. I definitely did not make lists...there is no way my thinking is that linear while I'm running. What was I thinking? By the end of my run I decided to record exactly (more or less) what went on during my 42 minutes and 38 seconds of running this morning:

I hate these stairs. I can never run up them this early in the morning. I wonder if there's anyone lurking in the darkness at the top. I hate these shorts. Why did I wear them? Short run today. I can't wear them tomorrow, I'll die. I should have just taken them back. Oh well, it's dark, no one can see just how short they are. Okay, time to start running. [sigh] You know, it's probably not that safe for me to be running in the street. I swear it should be lighter than this. Did I read my clock wrong? No, it's after 6. Why's it so dark? Oh, daylight savings is soon. Is it this month or next month? It might be next month. Halloween is on a Friday. Next month. I wish it was sooner. I don't like it being dark so late in the morning. Is that a person over there? What is he doing lurking....oh, waiting for the bus. "Good morning." Hmm, he looks awake. What's my pace? This is supposed to be an easy day. Slow down. Tomorrow's going to be miserable if you don't--ugh, I hate doing interval workouts in the morning. Maybe I can do it after work. But then Wednesday morning's going to suck. Throws my whole schedule off. Lame, I'll have to do it in the morning. Hmmm, do I want to go up the Ridge this morning or go the long way around? It's two miles around it but I feel pretty good. And I don't really feel like running that hill this morning. Yeah, I'll just go around it. My shins are hurting a little...and my knee. Ugh. I really should be stretching my calves more. I hope they warm up. These socks are awesome. I can't even feel the blister on my foot. I wonder, though, if this shirt was really worth the $35 I just spent on it. I hate spending money on running clothes. How long have I been running? 20 minutes? I should be sweating a lot by now. Oh, I am. Well done, NikeFit! This shirt is awesome! I should get one more. Man, I really need a haircut or for my hair to grow faster. This is driving me nuts. Another dude on the side of the road. What is he doing? Ah, waiting for a bus. "Good morning." Why does that make me so nervous? Arg. I hate red lights. Go green already. I wonder, is it really dumb to jaywalk across Glebe when it's still this dark? Oh well, my shirt has reflectors on it. The trail is still closed? What are they building in the river anyway? I hate running along Glebe. Oh, that truck better not have been honking at me. [sigh] Really, did that cyclist have to pass me on the right? That's really dangerous! Jerk. I hope he was able to see me. I have reflectors on the back of this shirt, right? Okay, how am I going to work more hope into my life? How am I going to make work good today? Can I switch jobs yet? [sigh] I have to choose to be happy. I only get one shot at mortality. Oh, this was a good choice. Look at that sunrise. Beautiful. I love this. Oh, my shins have finally loosened up. Why is my shoulder still hurting, though? [cough!] Did I just swallow that gnat?! Why are they out this early? Oh. Water treatment plant. Nasty. Dude, keep your eyes to yourself. Honestly. These shorts might be too short. I really need to do a little more lifting. Today should be a heavy day since my run is so short. It's feeling better than last week, though. Maybe the lifting is finaly doing something. 30 minutes, less than 2 miles to go. Rock on. I'm getting faster. Maybe I won't embarrass myself at this 10k. I'd really like to be fast again. How was I so much faster in high school? Hmm. More interval workouts...but it's so hard to do a quality one alone. I could join Potomac Runners...but spending that much money just to run with someone...there's got to be another way. Just run harder, Julie. Not today! Tomorrow. Tomorrow is intervals. More lifting. I need more weights. Dude, I used to be so buff. Oooh, is Kabob Palace on fire? Whew! No, the fire trucks are at CVS. Oh sick, McDonald's, nasty, I can smell the grease from here. Another red light? Ugh. So close to home. If I take really good care of this shirt I might not have to replace it for a long time. How old are my oldest shorts? I bought them my senior year of cross country...10 years! No way! Okay, today I need to pay my cell phone bill, credit card bill, car payment, buy plane tickets for Thanksgiving...that's going to be expensive. Man I feel good today. I think I'm finally getting back into shape. 5 miles, 42:38. Not bad for an easy day.

See why I laughed? I'm sure there must have been other productive thinking somewhere in there, but this is all I could remember. Clearly I am most grumpy at the beginning of my run (no surprise there), but I am always so glad by the end that I made it out. I sometimes wish I still had my high school running schedule (1:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.) but alas, I must work for the man. So 5:30 a.m. to 7:30 a.m. it is! The upside is the sunrises are beautiful.

What do you think about when you exercise, or any other time when your body is active and your mind is free to wander?

Here are some pictures from my glory days. I really want to be this tough again.

1998 Track Season. 800m finals. 2:32. Not bad for a distance runner.

I actually beat my teammate in this race. We went 1-2 the whole season (she was 1, I was 2). The 800 was the only event she didn't wipe the floor with me. She's 4'11". I'm 5'8". It's all about leg length at that distance...)

Central Park Invitational 1996
Huntington Beach, CA

Cross Country Season 1997.
What I wouldn't give to look like that again...

Cross Country Season 1997.
I'm pretty sure I was thinking about winning.

It's like they're mocking me...

This showed up in my email inbox this afternoon...

Registration for 113th Boston Marathon to Open on September 3.

Online registration for the 113th Boston Marathon, scheduled for April 20, 2009, will begin at 9:00 a.m. eastern time on Wednesday, September 3. Held on Patriots' Day, a Massachusetts holiday, Boston is the world's oldest annual marathon.

"God's Gift"

This last weekend was the Race for the Cure. It was an emotional weekend for me, as I got some very upsetting family-related news the night before. I didn't even want to run the race, but knew I had to do something to keep my mind busy, so I went. It was hot and soupy. I mean really hot. And really soupy. Even though it was only a 5k, I knew it was going to be a challenge. I did a quick warmup and realized that I was never going to make it wearing the shirt I brought (there is a reason I'm nicknamed "grodiemonster"), so I stripped down to my sport's bra, felt much better, and took off.


The race was terrible, I'm not going to lie. Aside from the heat issues, my mind would drift back to my family and I would start crying. Crying while running = difficulty breathing. No good. I came across the line at a depressing 24:30-ish (I didn't even run that when I was a lazy high school freshman) and just cried and cried. It was a pretty sad sight. I hung around at the finish waiting for the friends I had come with, but after about 30 minutes, I still didn't see them so I started walking, very slowly, to our designated meeting point. I felt completely spent, emotionally and physically. Depressed about my performance, depressed about the turn of events at home, depressed about the lousy weather, I felt it would be a miracle if I even made it down the mall to the Washington Monument, our meeting point.


I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't notice that two African American ladies came up on either side of me. They walked alongside me for a moment until I registered I had company. I looked to my right, down into a smiling face that said, "Hi, we're sisters and we're hijacking you." Her sister, who was on the other side of me, started laughing. I looked past the sister and saw there were two other ladies walking with them but apart from us, pretending to ignore them out of embarrassment. I tried to muster a smile and forced a little laugh.


"Hijacking, huh? What for?"

"Well," the shorter sister on my right said, "we just HAD to ask you"--she glanced across me at her sister who gave her an encouraging look--"what did you have to do to get that shape? Or is that just God's gift to you." She was dead serious. The storm cloud over my head parted briefly and I burst out laughing. Now you have to understand, I have been picked up on by Black men my entire life, in ways you would not believe (cars pulling over in the middle of the District, men following me into bookstores, cars full of men playing "I like big butts and I cannot lie" full blast as I've crossed the street...the stories are endless and ridiculous). But never have I been approached so bluntly by Black women. Sure, I've had plenty of girlfriends who have told me it's just not fair that a white girl like me got such a skinny waist and a butt like mine, but never a perfect stranger.


She was clearly waiting on an answer; it wasn't a rhetorical question. I laughed and said that I ran and swam and did a fair number of situps each day, along with some weight lifting, but that mostly it was just, ahem, "God's gift." Groans of disappointment followed as they realized there was no magic formula to acquire the way I was naturally built. I told them that as a white woman it was not always a "gift" (I've never met a white male who says outloud, "I just want a girl with some bootie") but that I've learned to embrace it. She clicked her tongue at my apparent ingratitude and told me that if she looked like me her husband would be counting his lucky stars. Everyone laughed. Then one of the friends suggested they cut across the mall to their car, the sister on my left told her taking shortcuts is why they will never look like me, more laughter, and then they were off. My cloud slowly settled back in, but their little ray of sunshine was the brightest spot in my weekend.


Here's to God's gifts...

The Power of Music

This morning I woke up before the sun and rode my bike down to the Belle Haven Marina. The morning was crisp and quiet. It was just me, my bike, and a quiet Mt. Vernon trail. It's been kind of a long week and I just felt this need to get away for a moment, farther and faster (and frankly with less effort) than running could take me. The marina at sunrise was the perfect place. I composed the perfect relaxing playlist for my outing. When I arrived at the marina, my playlist finally arrived at a song a friend introduced to me the other night: a Cambodian lullaby, part of a collection of lullabies from around the world. When I first heard it, the feelings were similar to what I felt upon listening to it again this morning. I don't know that I entirely understand it and therefore am having difficulty explaining it, but I was deeply touched. How is it that a song with words I don't understand and a tune I don't recognize is able touch me that way? What is it about music that makes it so transcendent?

Music has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. Since I'm on the younger end of my family, the music started in my house long before I entered. Almost all my older siblings played a musical instrument of one sort or another and we usually spent Sunday afternoons around the piano singing or playing those instruments as a family. My own training was primarily classical in nature but I've always been drawn to all types of music. I've had many spiritual experiences through the preparation, performance, and observation of music, and, over the last couple of years or so, I have stopped to think about why that is. I don't know that I've come up with a good, concrete answer. I have lots of theories and ideas, but I won't outline them all here. I will, however, make this very general and obvious statement: I think music means more than we think it does.

Sure, you can give scientific explanations of places in the brain that are stimulated when one listens to a piece of music, thus creating a sense of pleasure, but I'm talking about something more. I'm talking about music on a spiritual level--not necessarily spiritual music, but music of all kinds, tempos, beats, etc., that awakens something dormant, that causes you to be surprised by the joy you find welling up and spilling over. D&C 25:12 tells us that God considers the song of the righteous to be prayer. Prayer has the power to heal, to move mountains, to call upon the power of God through our faith. It would follow then, that music could have the same power. It's interesting to stop and think about that. What is it about music that gives it so much power?

Thoughts?

Some side notes/afterthoughts:

(1) If the song of the righteous is like a prayer, then what is the song of the unrighteous?

(2) I think Tolkien may have had more insight than he realized when he wrote the Ainulindale, "The Music of the Ainur" (first chapter of The Silmarillion). It's worth a read; don't let yourself get bogged down in the names; unless you're a serious Tolkien reader you don't need to keep many straight. All you need to know is that Iluvatar is God, Melkor is the dissenter (a Lucifer figure), and the Ainur are like demi-gods (Michael and others, if you will). It's one of the coolest creation stories I've read, mainly because it deals with creation and visions through music.

(3) Another thing about music I have considered a bit in the last year or so is its place in "one eternal round." Music's relationship to mathematics and the components of famous and timeless pieces are fascinating to consider. The thing that really spurred on this particular thought process was this NPR segment: http://www.wnyc.org/music/articles/27256. It's fascinating (the parts about motives and mathematics, etc., not the crazy Wagnerians, though they are fascinating in their own right), especially if you like Wagner and/or the humanities in general.