It’s been quite a hiatus, between the holidays, traveling and eating myself into an early grave. I swear I don’t do it on purpose but Running Boy is right: writing when I’m happy is a lot harder than writing when I’m sad.
Work has kept me busy, as well as the myriad of commitments and fun things that happen every December. My kids had a great Christmas, and Arden lost both of her two front teeth just late enough where I couldn’t sing “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth”. She has an adorable lisp now and a huge gap to accommodate her incoming fangs. I spent most of their winter break trying to live in the moment and not think too much about the various uncertainties of my near-future. I did well at that for a time, but am now back into planning mode. It’s my nature to examine situations from all angles and attempt to have a game plan for any outcome. Perhaps I should have been a lawyer, since that’s what most of them do for a living – figure out worst-case scenarios and ways to avoid them.
I still love my job, but I occasionally mourn the loss of my mom-life where I could set my hours and spend time in the afternoons with the girls. I don’t miss not having money and the times work would happen inevitably right after the girls got home, and I’d end up telling them to quiet down so I could get some stuff done or take a phone call. My life is much more compartmentalized now than it was, and that’s been good for me. I thrive on routine and I love being able to come home from work and for the most part, shelve any feelings or ideas about it until the next morning at 8 am.
Running Boy got me an iPad for Christmas, which was really unexpected and over the top but I am in love with that thing like whoa. I think my recent bout of insomnia and sleep deprivation is directly related to the amount of time I spend glued to it, and Netflix is probably going to go bankrupt because of how many movies I have already downloaded. I’ll get my $7.99/month worth, dammit.
For our one year anniversary, we headed to Grottoes, VA for New Year’s weekend. Two of our close friends joined us. We stayed at a placed called the High Laurel Inn and it was amazing. Perched on the side of a mountain overlooking the Shenandoah Valley, we had our own side of a converted barn complete with fireplace and private balcony. Our friends had the other side of the barn. Their big selling point to us was an outdoor 6 person hot tub sharing the same view with the rest of the property. Much champagne and wine was consumed from that perch. I slept a lot – more than I probably should have. It had been awhile since I’d been able to unwind enough where I felt lazy and slothlike. After a day of that, we spent New Year’s Day hiking. Prior to that hike, I had run once and worked out on an elliptical machine once since being released back to normal life activity after a month off post-surgery. Feeling cocky, lazy and slothlike, we chose a “strenuous” 10 mile hike because our inn host offered to drop us at the trailhead. Another selling point of the inn was the proximity to trails in the Shenandoah National Park. We could hike the trail, then hop off when we passed by the inn.
Although I’d looked at the trail map before we attempted the hike, I hadn’t really grasped the fact that the first 5 ½ miles were uphill. And I mean straight uphill. Additionally, the idea was to hike the first half and run the trail the second half. Anytime the ground began to “flatten out”, we started running. By the time we got to the actual flattish part of the terrain, my quads were shot from going downhill and my calves were screaming up the uphill bits. Run that trail once or twice a week and you’d be in great shape.
The scenery was gorgeous, and would have made an excellent natural headstone for my dead body. However, Running Boy kept pushing me onward and cheerfully pestering me with comments and questions. Then he figured out the key to getting me through the hike: promising me dinner and another soak in the hot tub.
After the immediate feeling of death passed, we talked about doing another hike soon since we did have a good time and it’s a pretty inexpensive (and healthy) way to spend a day. I don’t want to make the same mistake I made while living in Northern Michigan. Growing up around the beauty we had at our doorstep made me nearly immune to it. As much as I gripe about Virginia, there are some amazing places to visit and things to do. So as we save our money this winter and spring, we’ll probably be doing quite a bit of mountainous exploring and trail running.
My lease is up in May – big decisions about what to do and how. The only thing I know for certain is that I want to stay in the same school district. I finally feel 100% happy with where they go, and I don’t want to rock that particular boat quite yet. It makes my living options very limited as it’s a small area that feeds into their school. Half of it is $500k and up homes; the other half is tiny brick ranchers that are still overpriced because of the school district. I’m not really into either option. That’s one of those areas I’m avoiding thinking about.
In the meantime, I am still waiting for some finality in other areas of my life. One of my big Christmas gifts came early when Running Boy got some closure. The second half of that is right around the corner, and I will be so very happy when one less thing is hanging over both of our heads.
I’m a little bit in love with my boss.
No, not THAT kind of love. But back when I was looking for jobs, and struggling to process the idea of working INSIDE a law firm instead of consulting for one, I was being very picky about where I applied. Firm X had employees who would rather go through a meat grinder than suffer another day at their firm. Firm Y was a huge, ancient machine, rolling along with the good ol’ boy network for which Richmond is infamous. Firm Z had a crazy managing partner who slammed doors so hard, the ceiling tiles would fly out.
In other words, I either knew too much about the firm to want to work there or the reputation of the firm preceded it in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke. There were a few firms here that had stellar reputations and a few that were so quiet (meaning they didn’t send their marketing people out of the local office frequently), I didn’t know much about them. The firm I ended up with was one of those “quiet” firms, and it wasn’t until I began the interviewing process that I found out who the players were and what the environment was like. Rather than belabor all the details that led me to taking on this project, I’ll just give the number 1 reason I ended up here.
The CMO here in my firm is “famous”, at least in the legal marketing world. I’d heard his name tossed around at other firms and legal marketing events. He was originally a lawyer, but one of the rare ones crazy good with business development, and decided to go into the business of teaching other lawyers how to sell. Yeah, I said sell - which usually freaks the lawyers out. His job is way more 20,000 feet up in the air than any consulting I did. He’s big picture; I’m big picture on a small budget, meaning I had to do most everything myself to implement the big picture. His passion for business development is probably the number one thing I love about legal marketing - working with lawyers, helping them gain the confidence needed to step outside the office, and showing them the ways they can help their communities and clients.
Having the opportunity to work under someone who could teach me so much was icing for me. I’ve had lots of bosses - some of them have been spectacular (my boss at the accounting firm, so strategic in his moves that he could seem to magically make everyone more productive; one of my favorite consulting clients up in DC who has the most incredible ethics and humor and brilliance). Some of them have been, well, less than spectacular and you wonder how they ever came to be in a management role (let’s not forget the boss addicted to kiddie porn who couldn’t help himself from watching it in the office, or the one who was caught having sex with the office admin in the middle of day, on his desk, at work). I was excited about all the smart people in my department and I was hoping it was as good as they promised it would be.
So far, the lip service about the culture here has proven true. With the minor blip or burp or bad day, my team functions as a true team, and it’s refreshing to be surrounded by good attitudes and a lot of brain power.
One day, I was talking to my coworker about the backgrounds of people we work with. I have always loved learning how people end up where they do, and we talked about our boss. She pulled out a letter, simply titled “Christmas 2007”. It was a copy of something he’d sent to family and friends way back when. Reading through it, I was blown away. I really knew nothing about his personal life, his family, or anything outside of the legal marketing realm. I finished reading and thought about the letter. I thought and thought about it for another two weeks before I got up the nerve to tell him that I wanted to publish it here, on my blog.
I was given permission to put it here, though I have redacted some of the names of family members or other identifying characteristics. It’s lengthy, but don’t skip over any of it. It will make sense when you read it. Reading it as I did - blind to the circumstances of his family and life - made the message even more poignant. Other than adding links to items he referenced and the aforementioned “names changed to protect the innocent”, it is unchanged from its original form.
“Me happy now.” Reid says these words whenever he hears or does something that strikes his fancy. Learning that “Kaboom” (America’s Funniest Videos) will be on Sunday night or that Craig will be home from Boulder for a visit; going to Paige’s school to “push me please” (Reid’s words for swinging), or just hearing that I will be home from work in time for dinner – any of these is enough to trigger the phrase.
I was wondering what would make most of us say me happy now? Getting a promotion, a raise or an unexpected day off? Getting flowers or a massage? Taking a trip with someone we love? Reading (or writing) a good book? Reconnecting with an old friend? Closing a huge deal? Visiting a family member that we haven’t seen for a while? If these are the things that make us happy then it seems that we should be doing them, or, at least, working toward doing them. There is nothing wrong with focusing on a little happiness in the midst of our sometimes-crazy over-scheduled lives, right? I would really like to declare 2008 ‘the Year of Joy’!
Many of you probably heard about Randy Pausch, the young professor at Carnegie Mellon who was told he had just a few months to live earlier this year. A father of 3 small children, he chose to use his remaining time to make a positive impact on the world and to establish an exemplary legacy for his children. He called the diagnosis “a gift”, saying: “to actually know how much time I had left on this earth gave me a chance to plan carefully how I used every minute.” His Final Lecture has been viewed by millions of people on YouTube, and he has truly made a positive difference in many lives. My favorite point in Randy’s presentation is that brick walls are put in our way not to stop us, but to give us something to break through. He talks a lot about childhood dreams, and enabling the dreams of others. God bless the people who give us the gift in the message to “live like you’re dying.”
Albert Ellis, whom Psychology Today once described as the “greatest living psychologist” (before he died, of course), was fond of quoting the Greek stoic philosopher, Epictetus, who essentially said: ‘It’s not events, but our opinions of them, which cause of suffering. The challenge is to be able to change our opinions and mental habits so that we become robust and self-accepting enough to withstand external events that used to cause us suffering, such as getting rejected by a woman or getting fired.’ So as we face the inevitable challenges of daily life, maybe our response to whatever happens around us should be me happy now . . . not only when Paige makes a full-out diving save in a soccer game, but when she lets a soft goal slip past her - - me happy now that she is able to play and be part of such a great team. When I think of Craig graduating from college in May it makes me smile, but I still need to be happy if he says he may not move back to Boston. I am typing with a stiff neck and wearing a brace right now, but Reid keeps kissing my neck saying “bubba better?” Even with this pain, how can I not be happy now?
Where else can we find Reid’s wonderful perspective in our lives? How about when loved ones like Jorgan, Kristen and Aunt Judy beat the odds and get a good bill-of-health; when I receive a wonderful book like “Season of Life” and I like it so much that I send a bunch of copies to my high school football friends; when Karen tells me she and Clara got a “Big W” in their team tennis match; when Paige says she really likes her teachers; when we learned that our 6-month kitchen renovation project would be done (almost) on time; when we heard that Craig’s first snowboarding runs of the season were a blast; when thinking about our annual trip to Florida with friends; going to a World Series game in Denver, or when family friends welcome us into their home on Thanksgiving. Me happy now. How about a weekend with Lizzie on Nantucket, a vacation in Florida with friends, sharing my collection of poems, or hearing Paige sing in the school chorus. What about weekend getaways with Karen, or going to a yoga class (my new favorite workout). There is real joy in the rapport and connection Karen has with her brothers. And what about Terry and Jodi having a baby! Me happy now.
I am reminded of the movie Being There in which Peter Sellers’ character shares simple insights (mostly gleaned from TV) that catapult him from being a reclusive gardener to a Presidential advisor. “If you give the flowers water, they will grow…” Simplicity. No agenda. No political clutter and no ego. Here, simple, honest phrases are interpreted as genius and loving kindness – a lot of lessons in a simple movie.
There are a number of life lessons encapsulated in Reid’s simple little phrase, too. We are blessed to have a loving caretaker, Helaine, who spends a lot of quality time with Reid. But someday we will need to introduce Reid to a home where he will be with peers and full-time caretakers. We will plan and make the move sensitively, but leaving him there for the first time will be devastating emotionally. Our strength at that moment will not come from within, though; it will come from Reid when he looks around his new digs for the first time and turns to us with his disarming smile and says “me happy now.” We will draw on his capacity to accept profound change, appreciate life’s constants and connections, and his willingness to openly express his feelings . . . now that, my friends, is inspiration.
So why is there so much focus on Reid this year, when we have two other wonderful children? Partly it’s because no matter how you interpret the Bible, its insights about children are priceless. The psalm says: “Come as a baby weak and poor to bring all hearts together.” God has blessed us with someone who, in many ways, will always be a child. “Whomever welcomes this little child . . . welcomes God.” Reid doesn’t rely on hype or phony positivism to enjoy life; he just enjoys what he enjoys; he seeks it out and drinks it in. Even something as basic as bedtime prayers (which he calls “God Bless”) or riding in the front seat of the bus or seeing a UPS truck gets it done for him. I want to learn from that perspective what joys I might be missing in everyday life . . .
Talking about Reid also gives me a chance to talk about Karen - - she who for 17 years has never once – not once – complained about how much work it is to bathe and feed and dress Reid; no complaints about trips to the doctor or spilled water. Like Laurie, for whom the same can be said, this, to me, is the true definition of ‘motherhood’. Thank you to all who give care and comfort to those in need or less fortunate. It represents the kind of giving that I want to be reminded of this holiday season.
We can slice and package “time” any way we want, and it may seem artificial to say we are at the end of a “gift”; but we are at the end of another year, and that is a gift for which I am truly thankful. Let the ‘first gift of Christmas’ this year be hope for more time together to live, and to give and to love.
This entire message had great personal meaning to me, especially since the last few years have been so disruptive and chaotic. Allowing myself to feel happiness, or god forbid, joy in the little things, has been a major struggle for me. After I finished digesting the letter, I took advantage of a breezy, sunny day and ran across one of the main bridges downtown that crosses the James River. Instead of listening to music and gutting it out through the run, I listened to the cars and the birds and sniffed the air. I focused on how good the water tasted, said hi to every homeless person I met, and lingered near a local brewery featuring a woman singing out on the deck.
Additionally, my dad recommended “Being There” to me at a young age. I didn’t get the movie the first time I saw it, but I get it now and I love it. My dad’s eternal optimism and his ability to be grateful for life when so many of his friends from WWII didn’t have that same benefit . . . it made him fearless about risk-taking and it made him one of the few people I knew who absolutely drank in life’s experiences with the same amount of gusto in which he consumed Manhattans and wine.
I can’t say I’m always going to remember to do those things, but when I look around my office at the bumper stickers someone had made for my boss (unsurprising in that they say “Me happy now!” - Reid), it’s a little jolt in the middle of a regular workday filled with perceived crises and deadlines and emergencies.
It also reminds me daily that I probably made the right decision in coming here.
I finally remember what a runner’s high feels like. It’s the ability to grin though your legs feel like they’ve been injected with firewater and your muscles cramp at random times, without warning. Your hip joints burn and yet you still smile. At the end of your race, you find your facial muscles cramping because you are smiling so hard.
I am not sure I truly shared how difficult the Princess half was, and what a toll it took on my self-confidence. As a newly-minted runner with lots of room for improvement (lose weight, run faster, run longer distances more frequently), my running ego is fragile. I had a couple of bad runs and the Princess half was so brutal that frankly I never wanted to do another one again.
I’d already signed up for Shamrock and had lots of other activities planned around it, so I knew I wasn’t going to bail. When you pay a lot to run a race, you show up.
The wind was insane this morning as we walked to the starting line. It was the kind of wind that precedes a hurricane, only much, much colder. I couldn’t breathe and all I could think was, “13.1 miles in this kind of wind . . . kill me now.” We were also sprayed with flying sand which felt oh-so-pleasant in the eyes. Thankfully, by the time our corral was released around 7 am, the wind had died down.
I hadn’t run since a little 2 miler in Williamsburg on Thursday. The first three miles were hellish. My legs felt like they weighed 80 pounds each and burned like crazy. I didn’t look at my Garmin and I asked Sarah not to tell me anything about pacing or time unless it was “speed up”. I didn’t hit my stride until mile 4; Sarah and I both felt so good we skipped the water stop at the halfway point and ran to mile 9. We guzzled some Gatorade and immediately started running again. Miles 10 and 11 were rough - I’m used to hitting the wall around 11.5. We stopped briefly for more water at 11. I looked at Sarah and said, “How are you feeling?” She said, “Fine. . . actually, I’m dying.” I laughed a little bit and said, “I’m dying too but let’s pretend like neither of us are.” Sarah picked up the pace. She mentioned we had some cushion for our time, but I didn’t want to risk it.
We turned a corner and a blast of wind from the beach creamed us. I knew we were approaching the boardwalk, so I knew we had to be close. I could see the big statue of Neptune near the finish line and Sarah pulled up some reserve speed from I don’t know where, and took off. I was close behind her but I had definitely pushed myself to the limit. I had nothing over what I was already giving it. This didn’t stop me from smiling my ass off from mile 12 to the finish line. I could feel that I had done it - and it felt great.
I finished and realized right away that I had PR’d. My Richmond half time was 02:23:40. My Disney Princess Disaster half was 2:29:53. My time today: 02:20:34. I shaved nearly 3 minutes off my first half marathon time, and I did it without too much pain. It was the first run I’ve had where I could tell how much stronger I had gotten, how my breathing was better, and how I’d learned to pace myself while hydrating and eating when I needed to. I rarely take time to give myself credit for all of the hard work I’ve put into my running over the past year and a half, but today I’m going to pat myself on the back (and rub my feet).
My lucky charm is my nose ring - I remembered to bring it, switched it out, ran with it and promptly removed it. I don’t care if it’s fake juju or the placebo effect, but the fact is, I race better when it’s in. So I’ll be channeling el toro from now on when I race.
My lucky charm is also the amazing group of running friends I have. Sarah and I were in sync today; when she struggled, I knew it without her saying anything. I know she could feel me struggling as well. We barely talked but we were pulling each other forward, mile by mile, and having her by my side made a huge difference today. It was also one of the few times I didn’t feel that I was holding her back, or vice versa. We ran a great race and we did it together. This morning at the starting line, I wasn’t excited. I was terrified. I didn’t want to “fail” again (even though I tell others that crossing the line is all the matters), and I really didn’t want to bonk when my super speedy running boyfriend was there watching me.
Super Speedy Running Boyfriend also PR’d. I got a giant hug as we stretched near the finish line; then he was off to run Theresa in for the last bit of her marathon.
Which brings me to the second part of all this . . . Theresa and Prissie were trying to qualify for Boston again. I could tell Saturday night that she was very nervous - more nervous than usual. I managed to catch her around mile 12 when she ran past the hotel I was in; she already looked like she was struggling and not enjoying herself. Theresa usually looks like she’s having a party when she’s running. After I showered and changed, I hauled it back to the finish line to watch her finish. As the qualifying time for Boston got closer, I was so nervous I was shaking. I knew the boyfriend would feel terrible if he felt like he hadn’t been able to pace her properly, and I knew Theresa would be very upset. I saw Prissie coming down the finish line smiling - I screamed her name and she finished. A minute or two later, I saw Theresa. I was screaming at the top of my lungs but she was so far in the zone she couldn’t see or hear anything. It didn’t matter. I saw her cross the line and I knew it was close. A few minutes later I got a text from Gina saying that Theresa had qualified. For the second time today, I cried from pure joy.
I can’t imagine the mental fortitude it takes to run a marathon. Theresa was cramping, her back was killing her, and she wanted to stop fairly soon out of the gate. She kept going. Next time you drive, look at your odometer and clock out 26 miles. It is a LONG way to run when all you feel like doing is stopping. Theresa, Gina, Mark, Prissie . . . I am just in awe. They are all hard on themselves, but they don’t whine and they get it done. I felt an amazing sense of pride and kinship with them today, even though we are in different leagues. It really didn’t matter today how long or how fast - we all knew and understand how hard it can be and what it takes to push through.
I think I also cried a bit because I was relieved I don’t have any more half marathons to run until November 
The non-running part of my weekend was also terrific. Laura hooked me up with a free stay at an amazing bed and breakfast in Williamsburg. The room was insanely cool, as were the homemade chocolate dipped strawberries. The wine came back with us because I don’t drink before a run. We got a quick run in, and Williamsburg was gorgeous - everything was blooming, it was warm, and we had a great dinner too.
In the morning we left early because Theresa and Prissie had not pre-registered for the marathon. It doesn’t usually fill up, so they had decided to wait until they came down Friday night. Unfortunately it filled and only 25 spots were open. Since we were the closest to Virginia Beach and could get there when the expo opened, we left Williamsburg and went straight to the convention center. We arrived about an hour and 10 minutes before the registration opened; there were already people in line in front of us. We were numbers 11 and 12 out of 25. Let’s just say that a LOT of people did not get to run the marathon, and there were plenty of very unhappy people. Although sitting in line wasn’t fun, I can’t tell you how great I feel now because they were able to run the marathon and best of all, both qualified for Boston. (note to Theresa and Prissie: you are totally buying me dinner in Boston). Running Boyfriend canceled his lunch plans to go down early with me; it was super terrific of him especially since he was happy to do it and not a total crabby butt about it.
The rest of the weekend was spent with friends, and we had a great time seeing Anja. We were able to have delicious sushi with her late Friday night and ice cream after, and breakfast at Pocahontas Pancakes with her after she finished her 8k on Saturday. She got to spend some quality time with the Running Boyfriend but more importantly she got to spend quality time with moi!!! I miss her a ton; it was great to spend time with her without either of us being on mom duty.
Saturday night we had dinner with the Byrd Park Group; we had some of the best Italian food I’ve had. I also ate a 4 pound piece of chocolate cake and I didn’t share it with anyone. The combination of good food, amazing friends and a super-supportive and kind man in my life made for a great few days away.
It’s good being home and resting my weary bones. I had a great mini-break from reality, and some great strokes for my self-confidence level. I’m looking forward to many more (short) races to come. No more halfs until November!
A friend of mine posted on Facebook today about going to a Linkin Park concert by herself. I was kind of amazed. She lives in the Detroit area so going to a concert there means actually GOING to Detroit, not the suburbs, and it’s generally not a place I ever felt entirely comfortable. When Keith would drag me down there, it was fine, or a group of bumpkins from Traverse City would pile into my rustbucket Rabbit and go to clubs using fake ids not for alcohol, but to have a place to dance. She’s a mom, like me, and loves music, like me, and isn’t going to let a little thing like going to a show alone stop her from attending.
It got me thinking about how much has changed over the past year and half and how much I’ve been able to embrace my solitude.
Right now, I’m sitting here:
I wanted to go somewhere quiet and nice for a bit, so I chose Caturra and got a nonfat chai latte from my secret stash of money*. They always have a great fire going and no one usually bothers me or gives me weird looks. During the day, it’s a ton of “coffice” users - people like me with no real office to speak of, a caffeine addiction, a fear of going completely insane during another work at home day, and a need for free wireless. At night, it’s different. Candles are everywhere, it’s all couple-y and intimate, and I definitely stick out. I’m okay with it. I kind of like it. So if I have a night to myself, instead of acting like someone 12 years younger than me, I’ve decided to do things like this that make me feel good and nourished instead of depleted.
Other things I’ve learned to enjoy doing alone:
Movies. I used to hate seeing movies alone, but up until finances made them hard to afford, I actually liked seeing movies solo. I’d hit CVS for candy and head over, pick a weird time for a show, and see movies that had already been out for ages. Usually that meant I could prop my feet up, burp if the urge hit, and lounge however I wanted. If I saw a sad movie, I could cry without trying to hold it back, or I could guffaw loudly. I did (and still do) miss the after-movie commentary and discussion session, but I still get those after the fact when I bother my friends who’ve seen that particular movie.
Running. I always liked the group aspect of running. Even if I was running at my own pace, I knew others would be at the start and end point of my run. Lately I’ve become more fond of running alone. I tend to push myself harder on my shorter but faster runs, and I need the break from talking. My brain shuts off with a hefty grunt and I lose myself in whatever beat is moving my feet. I glance occasionally at the Garmin but not obsessively anymore. I return from these runs feeling sweaty and mildly stinky, but as if someone has pressed my reset button. The weather was so beautiful today I actually did some stretching and yoga poses on my screened porch. I was actually happy to have my alone time. I love the group runs on Saturdays, but I also love my lonely footfall on the gravel/trail/roads.
Sleeping. After being married for many years, not to mention the years before that in the dating world and the serious committed relationship world, sleeping alone was a weird thing. On one hand, the bed felt huge - and it was so silent without the sound of the husband’s snores. Those were pleasurable things at first. Then it got cold. Used to having male body heat next to me at night, I froze. I wasn’t actually cold, but I felt cold inside. The dark pressed on me and I felt completely exposed and completely alone. When I first moved to the rental house, all of the weird noises and creaks and sighs scared the crap out of me. I’d wake up in a cold sweat and reach out instinctively for Mike, only to realize he wasn’t there and he wasn’t going to be there ever again. It was like a little death every time that happened.
Over the past few months, I’ve begun to finally adjust to sleeping alone. I’m almost selfish with it now. I read with the light on (this used to drive Mike crazy). I hog the pillows, splurged on expensive bed linens, sleep in a snow angels position and probably drool and snore loudly. There are many nights where I wish I wasn’t able to hog the entire bed, but I have a new love affair with solitary sleeping. Even the dog, who kept me company during the first hard months, is being relegated to her own doggie bed. I want my space - in a physical and mental way.
Eating. Only recently have I begun to cook for myself again. Finances again have made this a necessity, and I’m still not getting ultra-fancy, but I’m back to digging around in my old Cooking Lights and various “How to Cook Food That Tastes Good When You Hate Cooking” books. I admit to even going so far as to light candles and use real plates (instead of paper towels and fingers), and it’s been fabulous. I still don’t love going out to dinner by myself, but I will do it - when the need arises. It’s been a nice change to stop eating on my coffee table and instead pull up to the dining room table, light a candle, bring out a book, and eat my food slowly.
Driving. I’ve always liked road trips, but now I enjoy an occasional jaunt by myself. I let as much air in as possible, crank the music, and enjoy some of my favorite things about Virginia: the scenery. I’m hopeful I can have more time for things like this and get even more outlandish; I might actually spend the night away from home by myself.
Anyone out there have something you really like to do alone?
*my secret stash is what happens under my couch cushions and in my car seats and console - always good for at least one cup of something once a month or so)
Recently I’ve had some discussions about why I run. That’s an entirely different post, but part of the conversations revolved around how to make running more palatable when the weather is cold or hot, steamy or dry, or when your hips and legs hurt. I decided it might be fun to do a list of the things that make running more enjoyable for me. I’m still a novice runner but I definitely have some mad crushes on a few items in my running trousseau.
1. The Garmin 305. When I first started running, my pace was all over the map. I was either crawling on my hands and knees or sprinting, then dying 5 minutes later. Mr. Garmin helped me moderate my pace, and now satisfies my anal-retentive need to track every single mile or split I do. I love the software; you can download your runs into your computer and the software will show you a graph of your elevation, heart rate, splits, and map where you went.
2. My Brooks Defyance shoes. Most comfortable running shoes I’ve found. I always wore Asics; now I’m sold on Brooks. Unfortunately this model is being phased out so I guess it’s time to fall in love with something else. They are the first shoe I’ve found that works with my arch exactly as I need it to.
3. RunningSkirts.com Run Love Long Sleeve Performance Tee. I despise their website, but their Run Love shirt is my favorite cold-weather layer. It’s black with a thumb-hole to keep the majority of my hands warm, and it has a cutesy pink heart on the left sleeve that acts as a reflector which is handy for night runs. The wicking power of this shirt is awesome. I never feel damp in it, and that’s great when I’m running on the windy bridges in Richmond. If the site was a little easier to navigate I could show you a picture of it but instead here’s one of Theresa wearing hers.
4 Nike GPS for iPhone. What better way to annoy everyone in your Facebook friends list by having it automatically tell them when you’re running and demand that they cheer for you? Every time someone comments on your Nike status, a crowd cheers and rings cowbells in your ears as you are running. It sounds stupid - and yes, it probably is, but it’s oddly inspiring to know that people are cheering for you in their own weird electronic way. On the performance side, it’s a typical GPS app and tracks where you are running, your pace, maps the route you travel, allows you to enter notes about your run, and plays your iPod seamlessly through the application. My favorite part are the Power Songs. As you reach your goal (whatever it is you’ve set), it prompts you to play a power song by tapping the screen. You set these up in advance, so if “I’m Every Woman” is your power song, it’s going to blast through your earbuds at the end of your run.
5. Spi-belt. Theresa turned me onto these and now I don’t run without it. It looks tiny but it stretches. I can fit a key, my iPhone, toilet paper, tissues, my children, and just about anything else I might need on a run. Plus, they are cute. Plus, you can attach your race bib to it without putting holes in your clothes and using annoying safety pin. Plus, mine is very fashionable black with hot pink polka dots. You can buy your own from Run Like A Girl.
6. Training teams. I never understood the power of team training or group runs. They make you accountable for your runs, and you know if you don’t show up, someone’s going to heckle you and it’s probably going to be on Facebook and then the entire universe at large will know you slept in instead of running or that you had a hangover because you didn’t plan your Friday night properly. Many of the training team people have become my running friends, which in turn led to just plain old friends. I couldn’t do it without them. Even though I can run 7 or 8 or even 10 miles on my own without support, I prefer not to. It’s a lot more fun when you suffer together. . .
