aerially challenged

I've adjusted to the fact that I'm going to be a person who just has trouble with airlines. Remember that time I had to board last so that they could install my seat, or when I slept in O'Hare after having made an emergency landing in Cedar Rapids. Oh, and there's the time I was stranded in Houston when I missed my flight by mere seconds. And who can forget my trip home from Australia, that ended in a 4 hour drive with a car full of strangers from Dallas to Austin. So, it's no surprise when things go awry, and I've learned to just roll with it. Why did I expect this flight out to LA to be any different?

The first leg was fine, Austin to Phoenix. It was hot when we left, it was hot when we arrived, the flight was short and uneventful. There was something like a 45 minute layover and then we'd be off to LAX. Our flight was first delayed by a few minutes, then a few minutes more. Then they began the boarding procedures. And most everyone was thinking, here we go!

They would have been wrong.

After we'd all been sitting on the plane, at the gate, for about 35 minutes the captain comes on and tells us that there's a small problem. You see, an instrument in the cockpit that is encased in a glass casing has cracked. While the instrument works just fine, they can not fly with the cracked glass. The captain alerts us that the ground crew has rushed back to the hangar to remove the same instrument from another plane to install into this one. It should take about 20 minutes, and we'll be good to go.

Another 35 or so minutes later the Captain gets back on the horn to tell us that "this plane isn't going anywhere". And that we will all have to get back off the plane, but they have to figure out how to do that appropriately. We "sit tight" for another 20 minutes.

After we've deplaned, and are sitting back in the gate, people are angry. There is a lot of grumbling. They switch us to the next gate over, and in pulls a new plane. I think some people were sighing in relief that this hiccup wouldn't be too costly.

They would have been wrong.

We boarded this plane, or started to. The families with children and passengers requiring extra time got on. The bums in first class got on. And Boarding groups 1, 2 (me), and 3. And then, the halted this procedure as well. Turns out, our crew was about to time out and wouldn't be able to make this flight. Rewind, we all pour out of the plane back into the gate.

Cue the grumbling. It was like a stand-off. Angry passengers, annoyed gate workers, everyone yelling and snipping and moaning. I just curled up in a chair to watch. It was a sight to see. I think we sat here for an hour. Then, up rolls a flight crew - hooray. And we start boarding the plane. Many people seemed happy.

They would have been wrong.

Turns out, this flight crew had somehow arrived without a pilot. I'm not sure if they lost him along the way, or what, but we had no pilot. In fact, there was no US Air pilot in the entire airport at this time. In fact, they boarded us all on a plane without really knowing that. So guess what we did then? We all got OFF THE PLANE!

Now, it's a real mob-scene. I watched one gate worker lean over to another guy and she said something in his ear, and he was off. Pretty quickly he returns in a cart with boxes. Boxes full of snack-packs. And water. The scene that ensued was much like what you might imagine happens in third world war-torn countries when the red cross rolls in to pass out food and water. I mean, paper was flying, people were shoving. It was insanity - and we'd only been stuck for maybe 3 hours at this point. Stuck in the friendliest airport in America, mind you, with plenty of food courts, shops, and free wireless internet.

US Air called up a few pilots. I imagined those conversations went something like this:
US Air worker, "Hey, Joe, you wanna come in and fly this plane for us?"
Joe the Pilot, "Well, nah, the game is on and I'm kinda comfortable."
US Air, "But see, there's this mob of people, and they're quite angry."
Joe, "In that case, heck no! Call Bob!"

It seemed to take a while, but the gate worker was very pleased with herself when she was able to announce that they had located a pilot and he was in the building. Everyone began to cheer and clap and jump up and down chanting.

They would have been wrong.

Apparently once the pilot arrives to the airport he has one hours worth of preflight paper work to do?! Who knew. The cheers turned to grunts, and the gate workers tried to toss more water bottles around - hoping this would help.

After about a 5 hour delay, boarding and unboarding 3 planes, we finally had a plane with working instruments, a flight crew, a pilot, and were pulling away from the gate. I was waiting for the cheers, it didn't happen. The flight attendant announced that they were going to give everyone on board a free cocktail for our troubles. I waited for the cheers.

Forty-three minutes and one glass of red wine later we landed in LA. And that's when the crowd decided it was finally ok to cheer. Welcome to LA!

2009, Third Quarter.

We can sum up 2009, Second Quarter as complete slacker.

Ok, that's not entirely fair - but I did slip into a dismal abyss when it comes to things I usually like to do quite often. We can make a list:

1. frequent blog entries
2. Project 365
3. cooking
4. running
5. bathing

On the plus side, today I finally switched the wall calendar in my office from April to July, last week I moved from one apartment to another, and a few weeks ago I got back into the saddle with my running - I'll be doing 6+ miles on Saturday morning. The outlook for the 3rd quarter is brighter, but I suppose there wasn't much direction to go but up!

a lesson in skin care

I'm generally the one who is slathering up with sunscreen, while some of my friends forget it, or choose to go without. Mostly, this horrifies me, so I figured I'd offer my Happy 4th of July wishes by talking about skin care.

Some of my friends aren't freaked out by the prospects of skin cancer, I guess that's where we differ. I'm all for not looking pasty white, but at the same time, I understand it comes with some risks. I generally like to find a good balance between lack-of-see-throughness and too-much-sun-exposure. There was a rumor for a while that any sunscreen over SPF 20 was a joke. This is only partly true. There are two types of rays - UVA and UVB. UVB causes the burns, while UVA generally causes the wrinkles, and is generally more responsible for skin cancer. Typically US sunscreens only contain protection against UVB, but not UVA. Then for a while there was one product that was approved to be included in sunscreens to protect from UVA, and that was only in some sunscreens at SPF 20. There is a new product, in Neutrogena, that has a broad spectrum UVA-UVB protection, and combine two different chemicals to not only block UVA but also to make that protection last longer in direct sun exposure. You can be sure, my sunscreens (yes, I said sunscreens, plural) of choice have this type of protection.

My daily routine is to use a face lotion that has SPF 15 in it, every day, on my face. I also have a body lotion with SPF 15, that I'll use on my shoulders and arms when I'm wearing a tank top. This is just everyday. To go to school, the grocery store, sit in my apartment.

When I'm heading out for a run, I generally use this face stick, which does not clog pores nor run into your eyes. I also use a sport spray on my arms and shoulders, and lately I've been running with a hat.

On days, like today, when I am heading to sit directly in the sun pool side, I do have an extensive routine. I start with an SPF 55 cream sunscreen. I put this one BEFORE I put my suit on, to make sure I even get under the edges of wear the suit would go. And I let it dry a bit before pulling my suit up over it. I do this as I get dressed, generally HOURS before I'm actually IN the sun. I also use it on my face. Then, when I first get out in the sun, I reapply using the sports spray and the face stick. I do not get in the water for at least 30-45 minutes after this. From here on out, when I reapply - and I do try to often - I use the sports spray. As you're applying, don't forget things like your ears, the tops of your feet, the backs of your knees. They are often over looked, and hurt quite badly when burned.

And, after the sun, if I am burned (which does happen sometimes, even with all this effort), my favorite after sun lotion is Burts Bees. And just remember to keep any sunburn moisturized, this will help much to get it to heal quickly.

Happy Fourth of July to everyone, wishing you lots of BBQ, watermelon, cold beers, good friends, and a beautiful sun-safe day!

a lesson in heat

I feel like the only thing I've been saying lately is "It's so dang hot!" But, it's just that - so dang hot. On Thursday we reached 110 degrees* on my car thermometer. With the humidity and the heat index, I'm sure it "felt like" at least 115. On Friday, I got into my car at 6pm, and it said 110 degrees. Six in the evening is supposed to be on the cool slide of the scale, in my faux-reality at least. I walked into my apartment where the AC was set to 80 degrees. I did the quick math, 80 degrees inside is 30 degrees cooler than the 110 degrees outside. Since when, in the history of anything normal, is 80 degrees thirty degrees cooler than anything?!

Let me just explain a bit what happens when you get into your car and it's been 110 degrees. First, you can not breathe in, for fear of passing out instantly. You must quickly open the windows, and leave the car door open. Now here comes the tricky part. You must use one pinky on one hand to move the shifter from 1st to neutral. Don't risk more than that, its not worth it. Now, using the fourth finger on that same hand you release the emergency brake. Why the fourth finger? Obviously because you can not re-use your pinky, it's on FIRE. About now you will have to shut the door, and using your first and second fingers you can turn the key. I'm sure you wonder, why is the key hot, it wasn't in the car the whole day. It's true, it wasn't, but it has now been in the car for 5 minutes and is also hotter than hades. Now with the car on, you have to buckle up. For this I use my opposite hand, and you have to first locate the metal buckle part - do not attempt to put on your seatbelt without being aware of where the buckle is, that thing is currently a leathal weapon. You must quickly grab the strap and then at the last possible moment, grip the plastic near the buckle and buckle it in. If you still have use of your hands, and if you have not branded yourself in the shoulder with the buckle, you can now drive off. Obviously using only one finger for the steering wheel.

And, that's just starting your car. Let's not discuss the pitfalls of running. The short version is, it sucks. I ran yesterday at 630am, it was already 85 when we started, and it was about 93 when we finished, and 4 miles has never been so difficult in my entire life.

Moral is, it's so dang hot!

*My apologies to those of you stuck in the darkness that is the northeast. I know you all want to say "blah blah blah...what I wouldn't give for sun....blah blah blah", but seriosuly, I'm going to go out on a limb and ask you to be careful what you wish for. There's a happy medium, and I'm ok with concluding that neither of us are experiencing it currently.

an oldie, but a newie

This recent round of mixcorps required me to dig up all of my old CDs. You see, my car was broken in to at least 3 times while I was in college, and since then I refused to buy new CDs, they seemed useless, and out-dated, and old. So for years I've been saying how I don't have any CDs. But, this is an apparent lie. I have a bunch. Not all are great, but I recently spent some time ripping them all to my iTunes. The result of which has been nothing short of pleasant.

I was walking to school the other day, and a song came on. A song I haven't heard in years. But the lyrics resonated with me. Lyrics that had been long forgotten. It came up in a week where I probably needed it most, to be reminded of earlier times - of who I was, or who I wanted to be. And how far off I've fallen. Because as much as I've forgotten, I am still unhappy with answers that I don't feel, and I am still open to the one more chance I'll be given. I am still flying off the rooftops and falling into laughter!

Soul Mate by Sarah Wheeler:

She is looking for a soul mate.
You see, she’s waiting for an answer.
And she’s been listening to all he’s said,
To everything he gave her.
But these words, they are not helping,
You see, ‘cause she doesn’t feel it.
And all the anger that was once inside her,
She’s transformed it and revealed it.
And she is packing up her suitcase.
You see, she never really moved here.
You see, she never planned on staying.
And she is giving up all her fear.

She is climbing now, up the ladder.
Peaking out from the rafters.
Flying now, off the rooftops.
Falling now, into laughter.

There’s an ocean in her mind now,
She can feel the pulling currents.
There is an undertow, which carries her,
It’s taking from her vision.
And there is something that does guide her,
But it is only just a feeling.
And it is only just a glimpse there of
The hand, which you are giving.
And she is sure that this is one more chance,
One chance she’s been given.
I saw her running for the doorway,
I saw her holding to her vision.
And she is going to grab your hand dear,
So please, pull her through the window.
And she is going to walk into the light
With shadows all inside her

And she is climbing now, up the ladder.
Peaking out from the rafters.
Flying now, off the rooftops.
Falling now, into laughter.

rabies

Last night I was at a cook-out with some friends (in Tejas we have to be very careful about throwing around the word BBQ, if its burgers and veggies on the grill, it's a cook-out). The hosts have a tiny crazy English Bulldog, who spent the entire night trying to get out the kitchen door and on to the stoop with all of us. At one point another dog, a boarder collie, wandered over and finally they let the bulldog out to play. The two dogs chased each other around a bit, but the the bulldog retreated back inside. The collie hung around for a long while, and our hosts admitted that they'd never seen this dog in the neighborhood. Ever. The dog had on a collar and a flea collar, but no tags - other than his rabies tag. We began calling the dog Rabies. He was super responsive to this name, and hung out for a few hours. We gave him water, which he slurped up with the quickness. We also gave him table scraps (or really, less scraps and more actual pieces of food). I even played the best game of fetch with Rabies for about 35 minutes. He was much fun, but we felt bad because it became obvious that he was likely lost. With nothing more than the rabies tag to go on, we called the vet number on the tag, and then the answering service to report him missing. The vet we spoke to was not able to get to the office and asked us to hold on to Rabies for the evening so that we could sort it out tomorrow. Our cook-out hosts penned Rabies up in their backyard, and the vet had my number to call in the morning.

As the night progressed Rabies got louder and louder in the yard, angering all the neighbors, so they had to let him out of there. Sadly, when the vet called this morning none of us had thought to write down the tag number - so we have nothing to report about where Rabies is from, who he belongs to, and whether or not I can keep him - afterall, I'm gonna have a big back yard in a matter of weeks! Hopefully he found his way home, or will find his way back to the bulldog house, where they can call the vet again!

*NOTE: this picture is NOT Rabies. See the leaves, wherever this picture was taken it was Fall. We don't have that season here.

Catch-22, defined

The problem: I've been spiraling out-of-control down this slippery funky slope where things I used to enjoy have become a burden, there is a significant lack of motivation of any kind (internal or external), and copious amounts of self-pity have set in. Allow me to clarify (for those who might be worried for my mental health), I don't actually feel sad or unhappy, and I still spend 90% of my day giggling uncontrollably. I just feel like doing nothing. Forever.

The answer: Probably to get off my butt and start running again. I've matched my run-cycle with this weird-funk cycle perfectly. Running makes me happy. Running makes me productive. Running makes me less stressed.

The catch-22: I can not muster the motivation to get out of the house and actually run in order to pull myself out of said spirally-disaster. Which only results in further depths of unmotivated lump-dom. And on the two occasions I did get out the door, it was such an awful run...cue the self-pity.

The cure: I'm gonna run in the morning, and I'm going to like it. And I'm going to do it the next day, and again, until I don't have to write about it on the friggin' interwebs just to make sure I get out and do it.

undecided

Dear Internets,

I'm so behind on documenting my ever-so-exciting life that I can't decide if I should try and play catch up, or if I should just skip the past events and start anew. The reality is, you aren't missing much. But there are a few things I've got queued up to write about. Like, well, my trip to San Francisco*. Or the day I gave up cable. I ran another race which involved big exciting goals to be met. Oh, and how about, I haven't eaten meat in over 6 weeks. I feel like those could all be interesting stories, and I'd like to tell them. But, I'm so tired, Internets. I'm so tired, and also a little insane. Observe.

Date: March 30th
Time: 4pm
Location: locked in an empty testing room with no windows.
Event: I was using my laptop and I clicked something, to open something. And then I was waiting for it to open. As I was waiting, I forgot what I was waiting for. I only perceived about 15 seconds of time had elapsed, but I had no clue what I was waiting for. Looking at the computer screen did not help to answer said question. To this day, I still have not remembered what I was trying to open/click on/look at or what I thought I was waiting for. Hopefully, it got accomplished somewhere.

Date: March 31st
Time: midnight
Location: perched on a bar stool at my table in my living room.
Event: I spent about 45 seconds hovering between the "send" and "save" buttons in gmail when trying to send an email. It took me 45 seconds to determine which button would actually achieve my desired results. Whats worse, I had to resort to a two-step process of figuring this out; 1.) what IS my desired result? 2.) which of these words means that. 45 seconds is actually a very long time for someone hoping to get their PhD to spend deciding between the words SEND and SAVE.

Date: April 1st
Time: 8am
Location: the shower
Event: face wash......shampoo......face wash......shampoo......face wash......shamp - wait a minute. Conditioner!

Respectfully yours,
me!

*If I link you to my photos, and N's posts here, here, and here, I think we can check this one off the list!

44.44%

March 2nd, sad
Originally uploaded by with an eye

That is the percentage of things in my fridge that are either a.) expired b.) growing mold or c.) actually empty but still in the fridge. I'm not sure what the worst part of this is: the cold hard facts, or the indication that I actually took the time to calculate this data point. Or maybe it's that two of the items pictured here in my fridge on March 2nd are still there today. It's a sad state of affairs down here these days. I look forward to April 8th with hope and determination for a better life!

South by South Madness

My first (and only) day of South by Southwest 2009 was pretty great. I've decided that ACL and SxSW are totally differently overwhelming. ACL is huge and overwhelming because you are running from one stage to another, through thousands of people and an all-encompassing cloud of dust, trying to see all the bands you want, all the while trying to not lose your friends. SxSW is completely the opposite. I mean, its scale is SO much bigger, that you can't possibly run around from stage to stage trying to see everything. And you can't possibly hope to run in to people. You just head out, sans plan, prepared to be completely content with what you are seeing, and not thinking about the fact that similar parties are happening at every other bar. And on every other street corner. In the entire city. For the entire day. For 4 days in a row. If you were to think about that, your head would explode.

This year we spent Thursday afternoon at Mohawk's on Red River. The line was short, the cover was non-existent, and the beers were complimentary. We haven't even gotten to the shows we saw yet, and it's already sounding like a perfect day - ain't it?! Not to mention the weather. It wasn't too hot yet, just right. Warm enough for sandals and a tank top and sunglasses, but not hot enough that people were disgusting.

We got to the outdoor stage at Mohawk's, beers in hand, in time to see most of the set for Glasvegas. I'd not really heard them much, but I've since seen them twice on the late night TV circuit. They were really good, I'm a new fan. After their set, and another free beer, we had a little break on the roof deck of Mohawk's. The last show of the day at Mohawk's was Austin's own ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. The had a much bigger following than Glasvegas, the place really filled up, and the crowd new all the words to all the songs. Not me. But, I did still like them - it was a good show.

From there we headed down to Auditorium Shores for the free concert series. (Admittedly, on our way we took a break at BD Riley's to grab some grub and the first of the March Madness games.) We arrived in time to catch the end of one show, now I forget who, and managed to see a pretty good set by Cold War Kids.

After this, we were pretty beat, and headed home with dreams of burritos and watching a movie. A plan that was only thwarted when everyone involved passed out cold within the first 5 minutes.

All in all, another great day in the live music capitol of the world!

Memere

I'm not sure why I've been thinking about her a lot lately, maybe it's because a few of my friends have lost grandparents recently, or maybe it's because of the elderly subjects I have the fortune to work with every week. But, I'd like to tell you about my Memere. My family is pretty small, I'd say there are four of us. If you go to the farthest reaches of extended family, we might be able to get up to 20 - in both directions - but, I've always considered it to be the four of us. My mom, my dad, my memere, and me.

She's my Mom's mom, and my mom is her only child. I, in turn, am her only grandchild. For as far back as I can remember, she was there for all the important things - holidays, birthdays, school events, dance recitals. Yet, for most of my early life she lived more than a 3 hour drive north of us, in Lowell, MA. I have fond memories of her calling me her little chickadee, and tossing matchbox cars across the kitchen floor at each other. The "spare room" in our house was always referred to as "Memere's room" while I was growing up, as she was it's only real occupant that I can recall.

When she lived in Lowell she had a fish tank, but there were no fish in it, there were little ceramic figurines of animals and things. I remember she gave me a few - a squirrel maybe, and a lamb, I think. And her apartment used to have carpet that went into the dining room that I thought was strange - although, now that I type it out loud, I can't understand why it was strange my parents carpet also goes into the dining room. But hers was strange. And, she had this little vacuum thing, which may very well have been the first ever Swiffer, that you just rolled over the carpet and it picked up the crumbs. And her step-stool, it was yellow. Gosh, I remember such weird things about that apartment.

The elementary school I went to had Grandparents Day each year, and she would come down for it. Our grandparents would come around with us for the day, meet our friends and teachers. It was usually in April or May, and I remember how fun it was to show her the things I did, and to get to eat lunch with her. It was probably one of the best days of the whole year - for both of us, I think.

When I was about 12, she moved to RI, and had the apartment with the garage. And ever after she moved out, that apartment will be remembered for one thing, and one thing only. Sewage. We used to see her every Sunday, we'd go to her house in the evenings, she'd have something for dessert. We'd all eat and talk. I'm sure that I didn't always act like I cared, but I know I always liked going over there. And then a few years later, we'd go over on Sunday mornings instead - and go out for breakfast. Or take a drive to Watch Hill for ice cream.

I remember years of being nervous to be the one to go upstairs and get her - for no good reason. But we used to do that little "shave and a haircut" knock. I'd do the first part "shave and a hair cut" and she'd knock back with "two bits!" Which means she was likely standing there for 20 minutes waiting for me to do my part, so that she wasn't late with hers. When I think hard, I can still hear her saying "I'm coming, I'm coming" or the way she said "Hello" when she answered the telephone.

One of the worst parts about moving to Texas, I'm realizing, is that I'm missing her. When I lived in Massachusetts I could still see her often, or call. The longer I'm gone, and the farther away I am, the more impossible that becomes. She'll be 98 in May, and long distance communication is tough. Obviously, she does not text, IM, or email (which comprises 78% of my communication). She is legally blind, and so we can not be penpals (we wrote often while I was in college). And the longer she's in the nursing home, the more difficult the phone becomes. With her advancing age, and her declining sensory perception, she's having a harder time holding on to things that are simply not part her daily routine. The phone is not in her routine. And, now, neither am I.

I saw her while I was home for Christmas, and while Christmas day itself was a challenge for her, it was nice to be able to spend a lot of time together. I can say, with some professional clout, that she does not have dementia, but is a 98 year old woman who is blind, can't hear, and doesn't walk - and I can imagine it's easier to let go of your remaining faculties instead of trying to hold on to the few you've got left. So, while she may not have always been aware that it was me who was there with her during those visits, I was lucky enough to hear her mention once or twice that she has a granddaughter in Texas. And, I was able to see the look of recognition (and confusion) on her face when I called her Memere!

"Wait, what did you just call me?" "Memere!" "Ohh, it's Jenni!"

tesla love

This morning I had to be at the imaging center at 5:30am, a feat in itself that is less than ideal. Last night around 7pm I developed rapid onset flu symptoms, which kept me awake and miserable for most of the night.

5am came pretty quickly, and my whole body was sore. I got dressed and decided to stop at CVS first to pick up something to get me through the day. When I went to pay, with the credit card that was in my pocket, I was denied. Of course I immediately knew that the credit card had been in my pocket yesterday evening when I had been scanning. Magnet:1 Jenni:0

I arrived, a little late, to the imaging center and let myself into the console room to set up. After getting everything squared away in both the console and magnet room I reached into my jacket pocket. The magnetically programmed access card to the psychology building and my lab was sitting there. Magnet:2 Jenni:0

My RA came into the console room to ask me about the ferromagnetic properties of BB gun pellets, as our subject has one lodged in his finger. Given my track record with the magnet today so far, I'm reluctant to take any chances.

Run Jenni, Run

Sunday marked my second half marathon in 3 months, which becomes more and more humorous to me every time I think about it. As my mom puts it, I didn't just dislike running when I was growing up, I physically hated it. Loudly, and publicly hated it. And now I choose to run multiple miles on end. It's just funny.

All week I'd been eating my healthy oat bran craisin muffins for breakfast, lots of fruits and veggies throughout the day, and drinking buckets of water. I was hydrated, fueled and ready to go. Oh, and can I mention scared. Saturday I picked up my race packet along with some goodies at the Expo - including a bunch of free samples, and my very own Stick. Best. Thing. Ever. I also got my very own pace bracelet, a 5:00 finish bracelet, which I was pretty sure was too fast for me. I went home, washed all of my racing gear, and headed to RO'Ds for some delicious grilled steak, veggies, and potatoes. The lovely KD gave me a good luck balloon, and I headed home to get to bed early.

Sunday's plan was to wake up at 4:45, head downtown by 5:30, and meet up with some friends at 7th and Congress by 6:15am. I was wide awake by 4. As I got ready I must have unpinned and repinned my bib number to about 4 different places, finally deciding on the place it started. I went through all my pre-run routine, and had everything I needed. I grabbed the last muffin to nibble on my way, and headed out by 5:30. After parking the car, I headed towards Congress - and decided to turn on my iPod for some pre-race inspiration. It did not work. WHAT! I was frantic. I tried again, I reset it. I knew I had left it plugged in all night, but I was concerned that maybe all the songs had been erased. I checked my watch to see if I had time to go home and come up with a plan B, but I did not. Then I heard one little note of music. I tried to make it happen again. It was shortly after that when I realized the headphones were not plugged in. Crisis solved, iPod working. Once I met up with my friends I realized I had forgotten my pace bracelet. I said aloud, "Crap, I'm going to be doing math all morning" - and it was true. The number of times I calculated '11 minutes times 9 miles is 99 minutes, minus 60 is 1:39:00, but 12 minutes time 9 miles is...90 plus 18, so thats 108, minus 60 is 1:48:00, but crap, what was 11. Ok, so if I'm between 1:39 and 1:48 then I should be ok.' or how about 'if a 5k is about 3-ish miles, and a 10k is about 6-ish miles, then 20k is about 12-ish miles, so at 12 miles if I'm running 12 minute miles I should be at...ok, 144 minus 120 is 2:24:00.' I'm embarrassed how long these simple problems kept me stumped.

The race started a tad late, and the first three miles were a slow but steady incline. I seemingly struggled through my initial 6/1's (6-minutes running, 1-minute walking - I have to start this way or I will crash out way too early!)I had a wonderful group of friends waiting for me just as we turned the corner between miles 3 and 4. They were there smiling, with signs, and cheering. A much welcome difference from San Antonio. They said I was doing great, I left my jacket with them and indicated I felt like crap. It was true. I was unaware of the steady incline and just how tough that would be for my already difficult first 3 miles. The next 3 were mostly down hill, and the 'high' from my friends and the signs kept me moving too. By mile 6 I was comfortably into some 10/1's and was pretty close to an 11 minute mile. I was aware that I was already feeling better than San Antonio, and I was now in my groove. Britney Spears' Circus was playing a few extra times on the iPod, to keep me going. (ugh, I know, Britney, but seriously...this one did it for me.)

Somewhere after mile 8 I realized there was something wrong in my shoe. I couldn't quite figure it out, but it felt like a rock, or something completely digging into my right foot. I eventually stopped and untied the sucker to check it out. Of course, nothing. So I put it back on, something still piercing my foot, and I just put it out of my mind. Back to some math. I was trying to calculate the time that my friends running the full would be done: 'if it's 2 hours for me now, and they were predicting a 4:20 race, and it's 9:30am, then they have 2.5 hours left, which is...crap, what time did I say it was, ok 9:30 plus...crap, how much time, ok, 2.5 hours. so 10:30, 11:30 - between 11:30 and 12.' Amazing, I forgot all about the thing poking my foot.

After mile 9 an unexpected friend was chillin' on the corner. It was so great to see her, because she's been pretty sick lately, and just her effort to get up and down there meant a ton. So after seeing LR, I was off and running again. Shortly after, the first group re-appeared along with their signs. It was another wonderful surprise to see them. And the last push I needed to feel like I could tackle the mother of all hills. (NOTE, the people in this picture are happily seen running DOWN said hill, I most definitely was going in the other direction, and a bit less happy.) I did notice the slowing of the herd, many people hunched over and walking up, my own "running" was slow, but a dedicated run. Halfway up, RO'D's smiling face as he starts jumping up and down cheering for my approach. Everything he said to me may have been a lie, but he feel in step along side me and said "You look great, you're the only one kicking it up this hill" He said he'd run a little ways with me, and together we passed the other group of friends he was with. I looked over at him and breathlessly said "I'm tired as shit" and he chuckled and said "Oh, I'll slow down!" He crossed the 12 mile mark with me, at 2:24:15 (note, from previous calculations this is nearly exactly a 12 minute mile). As he left he said "you look great, keep going you're almost there, I'll see you at the end." and he high-fived me on my way.

I thank him for getting me up that hill, but the last mile was still pretty tough. I kept slowing down, but tried to turn it on to keep up the 12 minute miles. There was one more small incline, and despite the "Keep Going" lovingly spray painted onto the road, I took a break to walk it up that one. I was running when I saw the 800 meters to go sign, and I didn't look back - ran it all the way in. 2:37:30, which is a consistent 12-minute mile pace, 15 minutes shorter than my time in San Antonio, on a course with many, MANY more inclines. And, I was still standing at the end.

I think, of the whole ordeal, the biggest accomplishment came the following day, when I was nearly unsore (except for one small toe/toenail issue), and even contemplated going for a run at one point.

Besides my own accomplishments, the day as a whole was spectacular. I was in awe of all the support, from friends nearby and family and friends who weren't. The attitude of the runners, the spectators, the city as a whole - it was fantastic.

This weekend I am jumping into week 7 of a training program for the Capitol 10K, where the goal is to run the entire thing continuously, without my beloved one-minute walking breaks.

thirteen point one

February 15th, thirteen point one
Originally uploaded by with an eye

Indeed, more to come, but I wanted to expend the energy I have now to thank everyone for the incredible support this morning - be you in Austin and out on the course with signs and running up the largest mother of a hill with me, or far away with running-sound tracks, supportive dreams, references to me as Buckaroo Banzai and well-wishing emails, a tiny piece of this medal belongs to y'all as well. The contest for MBF is officially over, with a bazillion-way tie. Thank you. Really.

one month down

I decided to start taking a picture a day, at least, for a whole year. I'd read about other people who have done this, and I wanted to give it a try. The first month proved difficult - and many of these shots were taken at the end of the day before I ran out of time. I hope it gets more routine and easier.

The whole 365 set is here.

twelve point five, break-down

I ran the longest of my training runs this morning, 12.5 miles. It amazes me when I do a long run like this, that a person can run past the Hula Hut, the Erwin Center, the Palmer Events Center, and the Elephant Room in the same 2 hour span. Here are the events, as they transpired, this morning.

mile 1: starting the normal trail loop in the opposite direction, Good.
mile 2: new insole in my shoe, Good.
mile 3 (in proximity of my car again): running jacket, Bad. (returned it to car!)
mile 3.5: Ctyomax going down, Gooooooood!
mile 4-6: Exposition hills, Bad.
mile 7: Enfield hill, Ugly.
mile 8: Cytomax coming up, Baaaad!
mile 8: Shrub near the Texas State History Museum to hurl in, Good.
mile 9-10.5: running the whole way in 10.5 minutes, Good.
mile 11: new insole in my shoe, Bad, very bad.
mile 12: Kayne West's Stronger, Good.

Today's run was tough, lots of hills. I'll be running on Enfield for the half marathon, but not on Exposition. Exposition has rolling hills - lots of up and downs, still of considerable incline. Enfield has less steep inclines, until one monstrosity that is painful even to look at. I think next week on my shorter run I'll do Exposition and Enfield again, obviously they had my number today.

25 Random Things About Me

In another corner of the blogosphere I posted a note with 25 random things about me.  I had a lot of fun writing it during a never-ending scan session yesterday, and it seemed like most people enjoyed reading it.  Since some of y'all aren't over on facebook I thought I'd share it here too.  Particularly in that there are a few items that pertain to some of my non-facebook loyal readers (numbers 1, 8 and 19 particularly!)

1. You will never catch me riding a bike. I haven't since I was 8. I thought once I wanted to, I tried, and I realized I was wrong.

2. I have food issues: I don't eat eggs, I don't drink coffee or anything hot really, I don't eat seafood, I don't eat mushrooms. The reason for all of these is, I don't like it. I am a MUCH better eater than when I was younger.

3. I can't sleep with socks on, I can't eat with my hair down and I can't take care of the weird Texas bugs in my apartment without shoes on. It's just the way it is.

4. When I was little I was insanely, prohibitively shy. 

5. When I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich I put peanut butter on both pieces of bread. I think it keeps the jelly from making the bread soggy, but also keeps the jelly from sliding out of the sandwich. And yes, I make PB&J quite often!

6. I am astounded on a daily basis by the lack of honesty that people (myself included) display. Not to get all "and the truth shall set you free" or "honesty is the best policy" on you - but really, its true. All I ever want to hear is the truth, even if it makes me upset - it's still the truth and I still want to know it. 

7. I feel I will have failed when I stop being astounded by the lack of honesty and grow to accept it, or worse, expect it.

8. I am an only child. My mother is an only child. I once got into a fight with a girl about whether only children really exist.

9. I am a Red Sox die hard. And have been all my life. When I was younger Tony Pena was my favorite, and Dewey. Also, Carlos Quintana. Johnny Pesky symbolizes everything that is right with the city of Boston and the sport of baseball, in my eyes!

10. I know all the states in alphabetical order and their capitals.

11. I have been fortunate enough to have 6 really close guy friends during various stages in my life. Luckier in that I still talk to 4 of them!

12. I've developed a tolerance to novacaine (and lidocaine too), and I metabolize it ridiculously quickly. The last time I was at the dentist it took 10 shots to get it numb, and a shot every 10 or so minutes to keep it that way. Needless to say, I find dental procedures to be painfully annoying.

13. I have a mean streak, Pictionary and Cranium bring it out.

14. I can quote from every episode of the Cosby show. My homie and I used to pride ourselves on the ability to converse solely through Cosby quotes. ("This looks like a house that would have some cran-apple juice!")

15. I've had 4 cars, three of them have been mazda's. I started with a 1989 Mazda MX6 (rip MIB!), then moved down to a 1990 Mazda Protege. I drove a 1997 Hyundai Tiburon for a long time, and 3 years ago I bought a 2006 Mazda3.

16. I've had stitches on four different occasions. My lower lip, both inside and out (age 3), my head (age 8 - this is the incident that keeps me off a bike), all my wisdom teeth (age 18), my finger tip (age 26)

17. I was the most surprised of anyone at my decision to move to Texas and go to UT. I've not regretted that choice one single day!

18. I've only been thrown out of a bar once. It was because I threw a dart at some guy. Yes, it was on purpose. Yes, he deserved it. Yes, I warned him first, repeatedly. No, it didn't hit him. And yes, I'm glad no one got hurt.

19. I've been to 10 (more if we count all the islands in the caribbean) different countries, but only 22 states, and a portion of those were only on my drive down to TX. I have a tentative plan to do a driving tour of all 50 states with some friends, but we can't make it happen until we finalize the rules of our 50-state drinking game. Obvi!

20. I played lacrosse in college, not varsity it was just club. I like field hockey better, but wasn't good enough to play in college. I also rowed crew in high school, and started to in college. I was on the swim team for one season, I played basketball in 6th grade, and recently I've started distance running. For fun I've done intramural volleyball, floor hockey, ultimate frisbee, softball, and kickball. I've never once considered myself an athlete.

21. I have OCD tendencies about cleaning. I do it when I'm stressed, and I Clorox wipe everything.

22. My paternal grandfather passed away in 2007 and some of the guys my dad works with came to the wake. While talking to them it became obvious that they knew everything I'd done with the past 5 years of my life. They knew where I worked, and what I worked on, the trips I'd taken, the car I'd bought, every little thing. I cried at the thought of my dad going in to work to brag about his 27-year-old daughter.

23. When I use Microsoft Word I always have the paragraph symbols turned on. This inevitably freaks out anyone who tries to edit a document on my computer.

24. I've got a giant birthmark on my butt. I often forget it's there, and right now I am unsure which side it's on.

25. I'm a completely different person than I was at the age of 16. I think that's a good thing.

it's all mental

I've developed a philosophy about running, and I've been working on translating that into a philosophy for life in general, as it's really a helpful one.

There are good days, and there are bad days. The end.

And, I've found it's true.  And it's what keeps me going back out there.  Knowing that one bad day doesn't dictate any of the days to come, and vice versa.  I can't let the bad days bring me down, nor can I sail on the high from a good day for too long.  Each day is what it is, and then it's over.

I'm three weeks away from my second half marathon, and I've been feeling incredibly unprepared, overwhelmed, and fail-tastic.  Certainly the holidays got in the way of my aggressive training, but even since I'd been back I hadn't made the strides in distance that I had hoped.  Perhaps, also, is the fear in the back of my mind in doing this race completely solo.  Not only has my MBF search turned out low numbers of applicants, but my running partners are dropping like flies.  And so, three weeks to go, I'm the only one running and I seriously question if I can do that.

On Thursday I was granted a few extra free hours and a lovely 78 degree afternoon and I thought, this is the perfect time for my 10-miler.  I geared up and hit the trail.  The pain started in my right instep.  It was constant and nagging, but I trudged onward.  It began to radiate up my leg, through my entire shin, which now felt as if it weighed 40 pounds.  I stopped, at a mile maybe, to stretch it more.  The sound it made (along with the feeling I felt) was that of a slow gentle ripping.  Nothing that you'd want to hear or feel at this point, if ever.  I started running again.  All the while I thought about how heavy my leg felt, how the pain was just sitting there, how hard this was, how alone I felt, how I couldn't do this.  At about 2.5 miles I realized I was slowly crying, mostly from the pain, and I decided to turn around and head back.  The definition of a bad day.  I was afraid more than before that I just simply wasn't ready and couldn't do this.

I planned to try again, ten miles, on Saturday morning.  I asked some running buddies if they'd go too.  None of them were up to the full ten mile challenge, but they agreed to start with me, keep me slow, get me going.  I was convinced I just wouldn't have the internal motivation to get through the whole ten miles alone.  Let's be honest, I'm not a runner.  In my lifetime I've only run a distance of ten miles or more three times, a distance of five miles or more maybe nine times.  Friday night came and went, I was nervous and anxious.  I came home early and tried to sleep.  I woke up and saw the dark sky at 6am, and the weather report - 33 degrees and windy.  Awesome.  I went through my normal pre-run prep, and waited for the texts to roll in.  Which they did.  First KD, sick with the Cedar Fever.  Then LD, overtired and unmotivated.  Then CS, wanting more sleep.  I had been afraid of this very thing.  But I continued to bundle up.  I put on my running pants, a tank top, a long sleeved running shirt, a t-shirt, my running jacket, my gloves, the iPod, and laced up my trusty kicks.  And I headed out to the trail.

It was cold, to say the least.  I was rockin' the CD mixes that Melanie made for my Rock n' Roll Race, and I started slow.  My leg, it felt heavy.  I started to get nervous.  But, I kept going.  After about 2 or so miles my leg was loosened up.  And I was in a groove.  I felt good, the trail felt good, everything felt good.  I know that the pain I felt on Thursday was real, but on Saturday I had the ability to not let it get to me.  After 4 or so miles I took a wrong turn around the longhorn dam and did a tour of some of the crappiest neighborhoods that East Austin has to offer while looking for the dam entrance.  While doing this I couldn't help but think of the one and only time I'd been up around the dam before (Obviously, I was thinking about it, I was trying to remember where to go...).  That was the first time I'd done 10 miles ever, I was with RO'D and KD, and I was hurting.  It was long, I was tired, I was sore, and I struggled so hard to finish.  I was pleasantly surprised by how different this was.  I was good, I was happy, I was in this running zone where I wasn't even looking at the time, not the norm for me.  Once on the south side of the lake I was headed directly into what I've since heard described as "gale force winds".  I'm not sure if this is accurate, but it's pretty damn close.  It was blowing so hard, and I was running up some hills on Lakeshore and Riverside that at one point I questioned whether I was making forward progress at all.  In my last two miles I realized I was still running, I hadn't yet broken down into extended stretches of walking.  I hadn't come up with reasons why it would be ok to stop, or excuses for why I was bad at this.  By the time I finished I felt so good about my now 11-mile run and the morning in general that I almost didn't care about the time.  It was certainly the best run I'd ever had.  And the time, it was pretty great!  The definition of a good day.  I felt accomplished and a little more sure of being able to do this thing.  Still nervous to stand alone at the starting line waiting to go, still wondering if I'll talk myself out of it.

This morning I woke up early to go out to the 3M half marathon.  I wasn't running it, but I had signed up to be a volunteer - something I vowed to do after San Antonio.  I was a course marshal and stationed for two hours on an entrance ramp near 360 directing runners on the course and away from the woods.  It was freezing, and I was standing there all alone, but once the runner's started coming it was amazing to see.  I was told I could go at about 8am, but I stood there for almost another half an hour to just watch and cheer and encourage.  I saw a few people I knew, and "talked to" numerous that I didn't.  On my way home I got caught up in the race route at a different point, and wasn't the least bit annoyed to be separated from the warmth of my bed for that much longer.  I was surprised by the feeling I had, I was envious.  I wanted to be out there running too.  I wanted to be a part of the fun.  I wanted to be running, because I am a runner.  I'm a runner who has good days, and bad days.  The end.

basketcase

I was nervous to come back from my vacation to a cat who was angry and neglected.  I had no idea I should expect her to be a complete nutjob.  On the one hand, she has continued to sleep on my bed - a fact aided, I think, by the addition of my old comforter.  It's been cold here at night, and I've dragged out an old, fluffier comforter for the bed.  She's perfectly content snuggling up to that at night, and I'm perfectly happy to take whatever I can get!

On the other hand, she's displaying some anxiety problems.  The last time she displayed significant signs of anxiety was right after Princess (my roommates cat) was put to sleep, and those symptoms re-emerged shortly thereafter, when our entire apartment was packed up and Stacey had moved out.  At that time Mia sulked around and hid intently under Stacey's bed, for hours and hours at a time.  I remember that Stacey kind of gave up and just started talking to Mia and telling her that it was going to be ok, that Princess had been sick and she was much happier now.  Stacey told Mia that Princess hadn't done anything wrong, and that nothing was going to happen to Mia.  It was then that Mia came out from under Stacey's bed.  

For about a week Mia has been covering her food bowl with her blanket when she walks away from it.  I noticed this habit slowly, sometimes I thought that the blanket ended up there accidentally, it is usually on the floor near where the food bowl goes.  But, one day I watched it happen.  Mia eats in shifts.  She nibbles, takes a break, comes back for more.  The entire process can take the entire evening for her to eat about 3 oz. of food.  She had just finished her first little nosh-fest and she walked over to the blanket, pawed at it a few times, gripped it in her paw, and dragged it on top of her food dish.  At first, I was just amazed...WHAT?!  So A bit later I pulled it off, and she came back for more food after that.  When I looked back next, the dish was again covered.  So this cycle continued, and I kept removing the blanket, placing it further and further away from the dish each time.  And she continually covered up the dish when she was done eating.  I, of course, made fun of her and took pictures, but after 2 days of this I began to get concerned.  I decided to take the blanket into another room for a while.  And then, I broke out Stacey's style of therapy, and I began talking to her.  We had a heart-to-heart (or so I think), and since then, the blanket has been returned and has remained off the dish.  We're out of the woods....

...for now.

confessions

There are a few of you who read this regularly who might not think I'm bat-shit crazy for what I'm about to admit.  And there's one of you whom I bet has probably done the same thing before. 

I was in a cleaning frenzy yesterday, I took down the christmas tree, I vacuumed the couch, I unpacked from my trip home, pretty basic.  Until I broke out the Clorox Wipes.  Then we know we are in trouble.  After vacuuming I emptied and cleaned the canister and all the various filters (because they were gross) - however, the frenzy did not stop there.  I clorox wiped the entire outside of the vacuum cleaner as well, because it looked like it needed it.  And, this isn't the first time I've done that.

I know I'm not alone, who else is with me?  And, if you're not - are you seriously satisfied using a dirty vacuum to clean your floors?!  I wonder who is the one with the problem...