Whatevs....

It's Official...

2012-02-02T14:29:00.000-07:00

I'm definitely bored. I didn't think the boredom would set in as quickly as it has, but it has. And don't anyone tell me "Enjoy it, this will be the last time!" Also, please don't suggest I take a nap. And while we're on the topic, any comments re: Any day now, you're ready to pop, are you so excited, you must be so excited, are you ready, when is your actual due date... (yes, yes, sort of, uh huh, I guess so, Friday), enough already. Well, let me clarify. If you are my friend or family member (e.g. someone that actually knows me) we can discuss these things or most anything you want, and probably stuff I want but you think is TMI, for that matter.

If I don't know you, just please keep your comments to yourself. A nice smile will suffice. The best thing that happened to me this week was when I was at the gym and this lady smiled at me in the mirror. As she opened her mouth I was gripped by dread of what was sure to be a repeat of the same conversation I've had with every well-meaning lady my mom's age at the gym over the last 3 months, "When are you due!? Is this your first? You must be so excited!" but all she said was, "I love your necklace!" It really is a great necklace...

Speaking of the gym. Overall I think my gym is pretty un-friendly, minus the front desk people, who are awesome. But the other patrons? Not so much. I find them cliquey. But you know when they get chatty? You guessed it. When you are preggo. This one lady pretended like she wanted to talk to me about my pregnancy, but really she wanted to talk about her daughter-in-law's pregnancy. While I was trying to blow dry my hair, put on my makeup, and most importantly attempting leave the locker room. Note, this was before I became bored, sometime last week, when I wasn't afraid to schedule things farther out than 2 days in advance and therefore had plans and places to be.

The following day Ms. Pregnant Daughter in Law was right next to me at the sinks as we were both getting ready. I smiled at her. I'm not saying I wanted to chat, but I thought that after she talked my head off, she deserved at least some acknowledgement, if only as a courtesy. She ignored me. No eye contact, no acknowledgement of said smile, nothing. Huh? Did she not recognize me? Did she have me confused with some other 5 foot tall, really pregnant lady at the gym? No, within minutes, I discovered she was just waiting for the worst possible moment to start talking to me. I must give her credit for her precise sense of timing. She engaged me in conversation (or more accurately, she started talking) just as I was reaching for the hairdryer. She proceeded not to take a hint, and continued to talk to me as donned my coat, zipped my bag, and edged toward the exit, with no sign that she was reading all the cues that indicate to a normal person that you are trying to leave.

Anyway, about the boredom, I know I could re-organize my files, or check the balance of my health savings account or do some other productive, nesty-type thing, but now I really think I am done. I know I said that a few weeks ago, but since then, I have borrowed my friend's amazing shampooing vacuum which I used yesterday to thoroughly clean the basement carpet, which is a light ecru type color. That thing works like a dream! It takes work, but the satisfaction of all the dark spots disappearing is more than worth it. I've also baked; one loaf of zucchini chocolate chip bread (gone), one loaf of plain zucchini bread (to give to a friend who just had a baby), and one loaf of banana bread (probably will be gone soon).

I'd like to go for a long walk or swim at the outdoor pool while I could still get some sun, but I am waiting for the carseat guy. Apparently there is one guy who officially knows anything about correct installation of carseats in our whole town. I thought I'd heard he was the best guy. Turns out he's the only guy. The fire and police departments just refer you to this one guy. Over the phone I asked him his last name, and he said, "Oh, I'm just Bill the Carseat Guy." When we talked yesterday he said he could fit me in to check our carseat sometime in about three weeks. When I explained that my due date is Friday, he made an allowance and said he could do it sometime this afternoon, and he would call me, but he couldn't say when... So I'm just hanging out, waiting. Ps, I thought marriage meant no more waiting around for guys to call. At least I don't have to pretend I'm not.

I've watched a few more episodes of Ruby but to be perfectly honest, the idea of watching tv is always so much better than actually doing it. I am in the middle of "The Marriage Plot" by Jeffrey Eugenides, which I am reading on the Nook, and its ok; the protagonist is likeable but the plot is pretty slow moving. Not bad at all, but not exactly a page turner. Which is funny because the Nook doesn't even have pages... I was skeptical at first but I cannot get over how easy it is to read with one hand. I love it. It's officially Dan's, but that's another thing about marriage, you share everything, which can be bad, but it can also be really good, especially if you're talking about an e-reader.

Last night I thought maybe my boredom was over. I kept waking up with this feeling of excitement and dread, multiplied by a thousand. Imagine the feeling just before the gun goes off at a race, just as you are handed the mic to give a maid of honor toast, and you are sitting down with your boss to ask for a raise, all happening at once. I thought maybe for sure I was about to have this baby. But it was just heartburn.

My trip to the State Capitol

2012-01-26T19:29:00.006-07:00

If you go to the State Capitol first of all you should know, its spelled “Capitol” not “Capital.” Last week, I received an email from one of Colorado’s House Representatives requesting that I please come down to the “Capital” to testify on behalf her bill. First I read said bill, which was very difficult, considering I don’t speak legalese. Second, I determined it was something I would support. Third, I googled said Representative to make sure she was not a complete nut, which she did not appear to be. Finally, I looked for directions to the Capital. But then Google kindly asked me if I meant the state Capitol... Um, yeah that’s exactly what I meant, thanks Google. I thought it looked weird, but I was just going by what the Representative’s email said and I took a leap in assuming that since she works there, she would know how it's spelled.

If you’re wondering why this Representative emailed me, it’s because I had expressed my views via email on an entirely unrelated bill, which I won’t get into on my blog, because I’ve never been political on here before, or really in general, so why start now… except to say I don’t support an amendment to a rule that that would require all healthcare workers to receive the flu shot. I have yet to see a strong, peer-reviewed study that proves better patient outcomes in facilities where the majority of healthcare workers are vaccinated or one that proves no link between the flu vaccine and Guillan-Barre Syndrome . I have however read articles in peer reviewed medical journals finding no improvement in patient outcomes in facilities where most healthcare workers were vaccinated.

Anyway, my email led the Representative to believe I might support her bill, which would, as I understand it, require the state to directly inform persons who would be affected by new legislation about said legislation, well in advance of the public hearing.

Side note: The best way to review, or to understand in the first place, depending on your situation, although I won’t say which mine is, what you learned in middle school Social Studies, is to actually go to a hearing. It was everything you could want in a field trip, minus the school bus, eating a room temperature string cheese and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich while sipping on a lukewarm Capri Sun in said school bus, and pretending you don’t care that your best friend pretended she never promised to sit next to you on the bus and sat with a popular girl instead. Actually, it was everything you want in a field trip, and nothing you don’t.

Once I got there, I saw big signs that said “Food and drink in cafeteria only.” I wish someone had told me they are crap, which is why I am telling you. The hearing I attended had more water bottles and travel mugs than iPads. Even the vice chair of the meeting was munching on Sun Chips during the meeting, in front of everyone, the kind that come in the dark blue bag, the original flavor, which is my favorite, just FYI.

Also, I wished someone had told me that if you want to blend in, wear black. If you don’t have anything black (I know, that doesn't even make sense), navy blue or gray would also be safe. I guess if you are about 10 days away from your due date, you won’t blend in no matter what you wear, but I definitely would have worn something more muted if I had known. Not that my tan sweater was what you would call a crazy fashion statement (as if such a thing could even be found in the Target maternity section), but it appeared bright among the sea of dark hues in which I was seated.

And speaking of being seated- another thing I wish someone had told me is that you might be sitting for longer than you think if you go to one of these things. This hearing was scheduled to begin at 1:30. But so were two other hearings in this room. The one I came for was, of course, the last of the three. And even though I signed in first, the guy who signed in last got to testify before I did. Apparently the pregnant card was trumped by the farmer who drove all the way to the big city from four hours away card.

So while I was sitting through the other two hearings, I wished someone had mentioned that the thing to have is a laptop or an iPad, but not a regular spiral notebook and a pen. I might as well have brought a (stone) tablet and a rock. I did see another legal pad there, but it was on the lap of the woman who had on a pair of square-toed, chunky heeled, red plaid and black patent leather shoes that I would have absolutely died for ca. 1991; not exactly a style icon.

I was very thankful that prior to the hearing, while sitting in the ante room, a friendly lobbyist started chatting with me and, he assured me I should not be nervous. So in case you go and you don't get to meet someone as gracious as my lobbyist friend, when it’s finally your turn to testify, don’t be nervous! The navy and black clad people are really nice. They know you are just a citizen who took the time to come out and contribute to our state’s law making-process, so they try and make you feel very comfortable and not like you are being interrogated. Also, they don’t know if you are in their district, and I suspect the last thing they would want is to lose your vote because they spoke harshly directly to you.

Do note, during your testimony, you can’t just talk. (This wasn't as hard for me to deal with as you might think, surprisingly). Even if someone asks you a question right to your face, you need to wait until the Chair of the hearing says to you, “Ms. Moore?” If you want to be super polite, after waiting to be directly addressed by the Chair, before speaking, you say, “Mr. Chair…”

So, that's what I learned from all of this. I would really like to attend the public hearing regarding the proposed flu shot rule changes, but I think this is going to be my last field trip for a while.

Nesting

2012-01-16T20:02:00.013-07:00

I've been too busy nesting to blog. Sorry, I couldn't help it. I used to think nesting was something people made up as an excuse to spend money at places like Target, T.J. Maxx, and World Market. Not that I blame people for that. I also thought it was a another way of saying "I am running out of time for the all the house projects I procrastinated but now that I'm having a freaking BABY a fire's been lit under my a$$ and I need to get ORGANIZED. Like, yesterday!" Not that I blame people for that, either. But now that I have been nesting with the enthusiasm of a monkey on crack, I am a believer that there is something physiological about nesting.

I am especially pleased with my progress on the room formerly known as "the garage room", heretofore referred to as "the den." It used to be the garage, but someone who lived here before us remodelled so that we have a garage that would fit maybe a motorcycle, but it's ok for skis, bikes, etc, and a room that I once dreamed would be our formal dining room, then fantasized about finally getting all the boxes and miscellaneous crap out of (which I must admit was no small feat), and when that was finally done, I imagined it as our den. If ever there was a time to turn it into a den for once and for all, now was the time.

It was hard to move things around being all big and pregnant, but Dan was willing to help. And by "willing" I mean he was completely uninterested in this project and would never have made time to help me rearrange, except that I am carrying our child and out of concern for myself and the baby he moved the couch around so I could do what I wanted as far as wall art. So actually the pregnant thing really worked for me.

I waited until he was out to get on the ladder to execute the final phase of the project, which I am going to share because its a FANTASTIC budget-friendly way to beautify any wall space, small or large! I wish I could include this in a post called "Awesome DIY decor for under $100" except it wasn't under $100. It almost was, though.

Here's what you need:
-Canvases- You can get these at Michaels. I was overwhelmed by all the choices, as far as sizes, but then the choice was clear when I found that the 16x20" size was just $19.99 for a 5-pack. Yes, seriously! This is amazing!!! The little 8x8's were like 7.99 EACH. So this was a sick deal. I got 2 five packs.

-A staple gun. Have you used one? It's amazing. The next thing I want to try is a chainsaw. And then a gun. I mean like a regular gun. We went to gun safety class this fall but I had to ix-nay the shooting part because of being pregnant and concerns about inhaling gunpowder and stuff, but I haven't forgotten I need to make that part of the class up!

-Some fabric. I tried to go the budget-friendly route and shopped at Jo-Ann's first, but everything there was U-G-L-Y, ugly! Maybe I'm a fabric snob, but seriously, that place is good for a piece of material here or the backing for a quilt there, refill blades for your rotary cutter or whatever, but for good fabric, Boulderites, go to Elefriede's! It will cost you three times as much as Jo-Ann's but the fabric is GORGEOUS and the ladies there are so nice and helpful, including Elefriede herself, whose accent I happen to love.

-A level, a pencil, a hammer, nails, a tape measure, a ladder, and some quiet time when no one will see you getting to the top of the ladder and wigging out like "Get down, you'll hurt yourself and the baby!!!"

Cut the fabric so you have at least 1-3 inches extra on each of your borders. For my 16x20" canvases, 5/8 yard per fabric was more than enough, and I had plenty of extra. Staple it on one side of the back of the canvas. Stretch it across really tight before you staple the opposite side. If you don't, you may see creases in the fabric. You may also like to iron your fabric first, but if you do, do the project right away; folding the fabric overnight = creases anyway. After you've done your first two sides, fold the other sides of the fabric inward like you would fold gift wrap and continue to staple.

Decide how you want to arrange them - for a big project like this, use your scraps to experiment with placement, THEN hang the canvases. This will save time and sanity.

To hang, get out your level, make some straight lines with a pencil, hammer a couple nails about 4-6" apart per canvas, then hang.

The other thing I was working on was the baby's room. My mom said I needed to have a light blocking shade, and considering she's had three kids and I've had zero, I took her advice. It was annoying to have to sew a black piece of fabric to the backside of the adorable fabric I used for the curtain, but I think (hope) it will be worth it. This is how it turned out:

The other thing I worked on was this old dresser I got at a yard sale... I wish I had taken a "before" picture, but imagine a chipped, beat up old thing. I got busy sanding and painting, because next to the new crib it looked especially dismal. Then I got a little neurotic and decided to line the drawers with fabric... I know, you'll never see the bottom of the drawers once they are stuffed full of little onesies, burp cloths, and whatever other baby accoutrements will go in there, but the drive to nest overtook reason.

This is the dresser, all painted nice. On the crib is a quilt I finished a few months ago.

Here are some pics of the drawer liners, which will probably never be seen again. I actually got the cartoon-y looking fabrics (the second and third pics) at Jo-Ann's.

The other thing I worked on was FINALLY hanging some cool art I made/found when I lived in RI and have modified a bit since. This one really is an under $100 DIY project. I highly recommend Providence's east side for great trash, which is where I got these window frames. (ps, so what if I have a thing for trash?) Then I made them pretty. Then a friend and I hung them.

Dan noticed the one in the living room and wondered how exactly it was secured onto the wall. I was content to believe it would stay just because I wanted it to and it had been ok so far. He re-hung it. The other one is in my office, where I hung it with a special nail that Dan seems to trust. Either that, or he hasn't noticed it. Now he will, if he hasn't... because if I'm still awake when he comes home, I'll be like "I blogged!" and then I will hang out so my face is no less than two inches from his face and say "When are you going to read my blog?" and "Why haven't you read my blog yet???" till he reads it. And that's not because I'm pregnant, that's just what I'm like if you're lucky enough to be married to me. Sometimes I get annoyed because he doesn't comment as liberally as he used to. That said, historically, there has been an inverse relationship between how forcefully I pressure him into reading my blog and how likely he is to comment.

The first one, I painted and I liked how it turned out:

The second one, I painted and it turned out horribly (not shown, never to be shown), so I got some cute fabric (at Elefriede's) cut it to the right size, used some special glue, and voila:

The other project, which has been ongoing since summer (and don't say anything about freezer burn because I refuse to hear it!!) has been making food to freeze for when the baby comes. Our freezer is stocked with stuff, including:
Chicken enchiladas
Chicken marsala
Southwest corn soup
Corn chowder
Beef chili
Lasagne
Some fancy orange chicken thigh recipe
Some other fancy orange chicken breast thing with olives
Quiche
Pork green chili
And a lot of other stuff I just can't remember right now.

I'm kind of done cooking for in advance because I'm overall just done. Walking around with 25 extra pounds got old a while ago. So did all the other general annoyances that I guess are par for the course. Yesterday, for example, I got stuck in the car! No, I'm not exaggerating. And don't ask for Dan's version of it. I'm not exaggerating, you should just believe me. What happened was, we took Dan's car to go to our friends house, then once we were there, I agreed to be the designated driver so he could enjoy more wine, but to drive his car, I needed to be able to depress the clutch, which means I had to scoot the seat way up, which I normally hate, but now I hate more because the steering wheel was basically smushing the baby (e.g. me). When we finally got home, I couldn't finesse Dan's finicky door handle and I was STUCK in the car, freaking out, with a steering wheel in my stomach, while Dan did everything but come around and open the door from the outside, until he finally did. I might have screamed a lot until I was released from the prison that was the driver's seat of Dan's car. The neighbors probably think we are getting a divorce now.

This is the last week I am scheduled to work. I just want to get through it and then watch stuff on Netflix and also vacuum the basement, wipe the baseboards, and fill out my tax forms (ok don't want to but have to) and wait for the baby to come.

Speaking of Netflix, I just discovered Ruby. Do you know about Ruby? She is the most endearing 400+ lbs. reality tv personality EVER! I love her! I would totally be friends with her if I had the chance. She is on a quest to lose weight and I am totally rooting for her! Even though I saw her on Dr. Phil recently, so I know she is going to lose a lot of weight, that hasn't ruined the show for me, not at all. I just love watching Ruby conquer her challenge. If Ruby can lose over half her body weight, I am sure I can get through another 3-5 weeks of this little person inhabiting my body.

Pregnancy + winter = challenging

2011-12-26T20:57:00.005-07:00

Everyone says February is a great time to have a baby. I'm sure it is. People say the worst time to be really pregnant is summer. Never having had this experience, I will take peoples' word for it. And make no mistake, I am not complaining here. My blog has never been a place where I put out negative energy. I save that for my loved ones. But I would like to point out some facts regarding my experiences with the end of pregnancy in winter. Specifically, a winter in which we've already gotten more snow in December than we had over the our entire winter season last year.

#1) It's really hard to put on boots. Not that I have gotten any awesome new boots, although I really want to, but haven't because I've heard your feet can permanently grow as a side effect of pregnancy, and it would be just my luck, to get the best boots ever, only to have them fit for another few weeks and then never again. Plus all the boots will be on sale after the baby is born. Probably I'm really going be jonesing to go shopping with an infant on my hip, but I guess that's what Zappos.com is for. Anyway, I'm talking about my old boots... my cowboy boots, my Emu's, my snow boots, even my knee high black leather boots with heels, which looked so great but made me feel like I was hit by a train when I woke up the next morning, and are therefore not to be worn again till after the baby comes, if they still fit, that is.... I have a choice of bending or being able to breathe, but not both.

#2) It's really hard to take off boots. This is good and bad. Re: the bad part, see above. The good part is, at parties, when you walk in and see dozens of pairs of shoes in the foyer and realize you are at a no-shoes party, and you really can't blame the host for not wanting snow, salt, and dirt on their floors, but you're like RATS because boots are the whole point of your outfit, not to mention you haven't had a pedicure in six weeks, and you know for a fact that no one wants to be to your subject bare feet, or worse, you wore your really dorky Boulder Tri Club No Bonk socks because you assumed they would be obscured by the boots and they way they are constructed (perfect elasticity, never slip down, just enough cushioning but not too much) makes them the perfect-under-boots-never-to-be-seen-sock, but then you're like un-RATS because, dangit, you're pregnant and you have ~~an excuse~~ a totally legitimate reason to leave the boots on. But you do make sure to wipe your shoes a few extra times on the welcome mat.

#3) It's really hard to walk in the snow. Of course its hard in the first place but when the snow is knee deep, you're carrying 30 extra pounds, and you thought taking the bus was a superior option to driving because of said snow, and then you find you're tripping over yourself trying to navigate the snowbanks that have piled up even higher than knee deep en route the bus stop and then the bus is coming but you know its going to get to the stop before you do, and you wave it down, and attempt to run, just to show the bus driver you're making an effort, even though the last time you tried to run 20 feet on flat, dry, ground minus about ten pounds it nearly killed you, so you do this pathetic jog/walk/shuffle thing and then, by the grace of god, the bus actually waits for you, and you enter the 90 degree bus panting like you just ran a 5k... well that's hard. Is it harder than strolling around on a hot day in flip flops in your third trimester? I wouldn't know. I'm just saying.

Supply list

2011-11-15T22:12:00.005-07:00

After finding out we were expecting, the first baby accoutrement we purchased was a treadmill. Now, hear me out. I know little to nothing about babies. But I know this: They like to sleep a lot. And I like to run. And if you're alone with a baby and it's sleeping, which I suspect will be a frequent circumstance, you can't run. Unless you have a treadmill, that is.

So I found what looks like a nice Nordic Track treadmill on Craigslist, and the seller even delivered it. I say "what looks like" because I haven't truly tested it. I ran on it for like 60 seconds before I agreed to buy it and since we've had it, a) The weather has been too nice for me to justify working out in my basement, b) I have not run on it, but instead walked on it because for a variety of reasons, which would sound like complaints if I started to list them, which I won't, I haven't run at all since maybe July, or c) The one time I did walk on it, I experienced this weird abdominal pain that just felt wrong, plus my inner thighs felt like I just did a bunch of lunges, which also just felt wrong, so if I am going to work out in the basement, I opt for the trainer, and even though my thighs hit my belly when I bike, its still a preferable option.

After I got the treadmill, baby shopping came to a sharp standstill, with the exception of the acquisition of some great finds at a neighbor's yard sale. Months went by, and then we took the plunge.

We went to Babies R Us, to register for stuff that we thought we would need, which was intimidating because we hardly knew what any of it was, what any of it did, or how to decide which ones to pick because for every little thing you never even heard of, there are like twenty of them. Like a crib mattress, for example... It never even occurred to me that we would need one of these. But they don't come with the crib. And you can't expect a baby to sleep on a piece of wood. But there's like ten mattress choices. They range in price. Some are softer. Some are firmer. Some are hypoallergenic. Some are organic. Some are natural. It's like trying to pick one of Ben and Jerry's 34 Euphoric flavors (at least there were 34 when I worked there, circa 1996), only there's nothing euphoric about it. Unless you count the baby itself, but to be honest, I've been having nightmares ever since I peed on the stick, so I have yet to experience the euphoria of expecting a baby. Not that I don't want the baby, of course I do, but this will change our lives in a major way, and therefore I have been having a lot of dreams like where you are on the way to a triathlon at 7:55, the race starts at 8, you're nowhere near the venue, and your bike is broken. Anyway, we picked a mattress. Then I went online and saw it got horrible reviews. I have been meaning to get around to deleting it from my registry and picking another one but I have been procrastinating this.

I felt like I was suffocating during the 90 minutes we spent at Babies R Us, except for when I found two maternity shirts that I liked on the sale rack, because I knew what those were, how to use them, and what size to get. I cannot begin to imagine what Dan was feeling, because he didn't even get any cute shirts, and by the second aisle, he was like "How much more of this?"

Anyway, we left the superstore feeling that the buying baby supplies thing was under control... We knew (sort of) what we needed, we asked for it, and whatever no one buys us, we will eventually buy ourselves. Doneskie. Or so we thought. Over the weekend it occurred to me that whoever drops the baby off at daycare will have to pick the baby up too, because that person will have the carseat in their car. This will be very limiting, as far as the schedule of said person, as none of our daycare options are on the way to either of our workplaces. As an alternative, Dan suggested I really learn how to drive his car, which will offer us greater flexibility in this baby pick up/ drop off scenario. That way, if the car seat is in my car, we can switch cars if I would drive his. Which still doesn't change the fact that whoever drops the baby off also picks the baby up. Also note, I do know how to drive his car, I just hate to do it, again for a variety of reasons that would sound like complaints if I listed them, so I won't.

Obviously, the only option was to get a new car, one that both of us would drive, therefore we could keep my car, and get rid of Dan's car, and have two cars that were user friendly to both of us. I said we would need a bigger car, for when we go camping. As it is, its tough to fit both of us and all our stuff in one of our small cars. Dan lit up at the prospect of camping with our baby this summer. Then I realized that I had not only implied that I was game for camping with an infant, but that I had gone so far as to suggest we get a new vehicle for that express purpose. I wanted to backpedal, but I was already dreaming of Bluetooth, Sirius, and in-dash GPS... Dangit!!! I suppose this is what they mean by pregnancy brain.

Then we started to brainstorm where we would come up with the money for this totally unanticipated but necessary, new, bigger car... It started to get stressful. How would this all work? Would I have to go back to work earlier than we'd planned? I didn't even want to spend money on a car! I like spending money on cool stuff, like clothes, pedicures, trips, dinners out, race fees, home decor... But not cars! That's like spending money on medical bills or your electric bill; You have to do it, but its no fun.

And then ~~our friends told us~~ the answer came to us - get a carseat base for each car. Duh! How could we have been so dumb. No car payment needed! Just another carseat base. If having a child gets more complicated than choosing supplies, and I suspect it will, I don't know how I'm going to manage...

Pregnancy Top Six List

2011-10-03T21:36:00.004-06:00

If I had known how awesome being pregnant was, I might have done this sooner... I'm not kidding. This is great.

Top Six Awesome things about my pregnancy (and yes I know these lists are typically Top Ten but please see #5) below:

1) I have gotten more comments from strangers on how great I look in the past few weeks than I ever have in my whole entire life. And I'm not including strangers in bars because that doesn't count. I'm talking about the creepy guy at Borders in Chapel Hill in 2003 and the hot tattoo guy from the Denver Public Library, and ok while tatoos are not my thing, let's just say Dan was lucky he met me two days before tattoo guy did. And I don't care that almost all the people who happen to think I look so great right now are women. Doesn't matter. They're strangers and they are saying these lovely things that just make my day. I am an equal opportunity compliment taker, thank you.

2) For once I am not rejecting outfits because my stomach sticks out too much, wondering if my stomach sticks out too much, wearing things that disguise my stomach, or trying to suck my stomach in. My stomach has nowhere to go but out and I don't care!! And the best part is, it's rock hard! My stomach has never been so hard. Ok flat and hard would be awesome but one out of two ain't bad.

3) For the first time in my Boulder life, people are impressed with my athleticism. Because running six marathons and completing two ironmans aren't a big deal around here. But bike ten miles pregnant to volunteer at your triathlon club's duathlon with a baby bump and suddenly you're a lean mean machine. Teach a spin class with a bun in the oven and you're an obsessive athlete. (And ps, pregnant or not, just because you are teaching doesn't mean you are necessarily doing all the things you are telling your class to do). At Zumba tonight, I was practically a celebrity. And I don't care if my fans were middle aged ladies. To reiterate, I'm all about equal opportunity compliment taking.

4) You get to buy new clothes. Actually, you HAVE to buy new clothes. Forced clothes shopping... I couldn't have even made such a wonderful thing up if I tried!!!

5) I am GROWING A HUMAN IN MY BODY.

6) No need to feel guilty re: sleeping in, going to bed early, bailing early on social endeavors, eating whatever looks good, skipping a workout, or yawning at work (see #5).

Baby talk

2011-09-19T10:15:00.003-06:00

So far the baby appears to be developing normally. Big sigh of relief. We had an ultrasound on Friday and the baby was swimming around like a maniac and sucking it's little thumb and the radiology technician said everything looked healthy. We did not want to find out the gender. I would rather be surprised at 40 weeks than 20. And I don't care that its measuring a bit small. Seriously, at five feet tall, I don't have room for a large baby. I am sure nature knows what its doing here. I really don't care about anything except that there are two legs, two arms, four chambers in the heart, and a closed spinal cord, which there are. Yay! I just want it to be healthy.

I read the radiologist's impressions today. Apparently all of the body measurements indicated a gestational age of 18 and a half weeks while the femur measures just over 19 weeks. Long femurs?? Maybe this baby will be a talented cyclist.

I couldn't help it. The thought came into my mind before I was even fully aware of it. Ok so I thought I just wanted the baby to be healthy but I suppose I wouldn't mind healthy little athlete.
As long the baby prefers time trials. Triathlons would be fine too. Road races and criteriums just make me a little too nervous.

Re: no wine

2011-08-03T20:33:00.005-06:00

I've never considered myself a big drinker. When I go the doctor for my annual physical I check off the box for "0-3" under Alcoholic Drinks Per Week. I never thought twice about it. Until now. It's only been nine weeks since my last drink (but who's counting?), so why do I miss my 0-3 drinks per week so much!? Maybe it was more than that? At the hospital, medical records of a patient with a drinking problem typically say "Patient admits to x drinks per day." The rule of thumb is you double that in your mind. So in my case... We may be talking about 0-6 drinks per week. Who knows. I just know I really miss having a glass of wine while I make dinner. I miss going for happy hour and ordering the special instead of my new standby, grapefruit juice and soda water, or my other favorite, something "festive but non-alcoholic." As if there was such a thing. So far every server I have bothered with this ridiculous request has humored me and brought me some sugary, fizzy, eight dollar beverage with an orange slice garnish.

Of course I am ~~terrified~~ totally overwhelmed with joy at the prospect of having a baby, don't get me wrong. But have you ever been at a wedding with an open bar and drank nothing but water and Diet Coke? I have. When Dan ordered my drink for me at the bar, the guys turned to him and asked "When is your wife due?"

But there are times when my status as Only Totally Sober Person works to my advantage. Take this weekend for example. Dan and I met up with his sister and brother-in-law in San Francisco for a fancy dinner. I ordered my signature grapefruit and soda water, in case you were curious. It complimented the Angus beef quite nicely. Meanwhile, Dan had three cocktails. After dinner, I was fully alert. Dan was pretty buzzed. We passed Old Navy on the way back to our hotel. I easily lured him through its massive double glass doors and up the escalator to the Men's section. In a relaxed state, Dan browsed casually while I pretended I was a contestant on Supermarket Sweep, collecting nearly everything in the store that appeared to be Dan's size. Before my arm fell out of it's socket from the pressure of the dozens of garments I had gathered, I gently coaxed him into the dressing room. There, I de-hangered, unbuttoned, and unzipped, each item with the dexterity of a concert cellist. A mere 45 minutes after we entered the store, we left with four new shirts for Dan and a pair of leggings for me. You should know that in the nearly four years since Dan and I met, we have shopped for clothing for him only one other time, and that was for the suit he wore to our wedding. Could I have pulled this this magnificent shopping feat off in any other state but stone cold sober? I think not.

I will continue to update you on any other advantages to not drinking as I encounter them, should there be any. In the meantime, what is a nice non-alcoholic treat you can order at a bar? And also, if you find yourself in a predicament such as this one, here is a great book for making your own non-alcoholic cocktails. The coolest thing about this is that my friend wrote it!!

Zumba, baby!

2011-07-28T20:46:00.005-06:00

Zumba is sweeping the nation! Unless you are a guy or living under a rock, you probably already know this. I was aware that it was hot, but I realized just how hot when I went to this fitness conference last Friday. I was there to get certified as a spin teacher. And if I can be totally honest here, which most of the time I am, if you don't count not talking about certain topics because I am concerned about what might happen to me professionally if someone in charge of hiring happens to google me, well to be honest, I am really impressed that the instructor of my spin class certification course was able to find stuff to talk about regarding spinning for EIGHT HOURS. To be fair, we had two 45 minute sessions of actually doing a spin workout, but the rest of it was just talking about indoor cycling. I wasn't sure but I got the vibe that I was the only one who felt there just isn't that much to say. Have you been to a spin class? It is a great workout but there's not a whole lot happening... no choreography, no special tricks, just pedal your bike and don't get your shoelace caught in the flywheel. I've taught spin before. You need fun music, to prepare to some intervals to keep the workout interesting, be entertaining but not obnoxious, and bam, you have a class people will come back to. It's not rocket science.

I have to give the instructor credit for doing a fantastic job of being enthusiastic and informative, and giving us some sample workouts that flew by. I also really enjoyed her emphasis on bringing in the "back row" participants. Unfortunately my town only has serious athletes. I think you need to have a resting heart rate below 60 to be allowed to live here, but if I find a beginner in my class, you better believe I am going to make them feel welcome as rain in a summer drought!

Anyway, it's been a while since I had to sit and learn for eight hours. I found myself taking gratutitous bathroom breaks and taking extended pauses on my detour back to my the spinning room to watch the Zumba sensation that was playing out before my very eyes. There were literally a hundred to a hundred fifty people learning to become Zumba instructors! It is mesmerizing to watch this many neon- clad people shake their booties in unison. If you ever get a chance to see something like this I highly recommend it.

I had been to Zumba class a few times before, only because my sister asked me to go. She LOVES Zumba. I think Zumba is ok. But now I am pregnant which is a major game changer. Ha! And you totally thought this post was about Zumba! And now you see the title of this post was actually a witty play on words! Anyway, pregnancy has been a major game changer (I know, I know, you are shaking your head at me like "Just you wait"). At our last prenatal appointment, the midwife was telling me how all her runner and ballerina clients have tough labors because they have such a hard time relaxing. I nodded like "Whatever I am so relaxed, I am not like those other anal retentive people you speak of. I will give birth like one of those women in Asia or Africa or wherever, who squats in a field, pushes out a baby, and goes back to work" except really who am I kidding. (The truth is I have never worked in a field. I've never even mowed the lawn, and I plan to take six months fully off from work when the baby is born). And I almost blew a gasket when this jerkwater lady showed up at Zumba 30 minutes into the 60 minute class and decided she needed be 14 inches from my spot. The room was huge, there were only eight participants and she was late. Totally uncool. But anyways, I guess I could stand to relax. After the midwife warned me of how important it was to loosen up my body, she said, "You should really use this time to explore forms of exercise like yoga and belly dancing." I looked at Dan and rolled my eyes. I could pretend to be more relaxed than I was but I was not about to fully lie to my healthcare provider. So I was honest and told her, "Just so you know, that's not going to happen. It's just not."

Later I thought a little more about it. I still won't go to regular yoga; Yoga at my gym is hit or miss as far as getting a good instructor versus one with an annoying voice, and yoga at Yoga Pod and Core Power are too dang hot for pregnant ladies (It's not like I haven't given yoga a chance). My understanding is a pregnant woman's core temperature should not exceed 102F, because then the fetus gets too hot and its not able to sweat like we are, so you don't want to overcook it. The only way to actually know what your core temp is to take it rectally (EWWW!!!) so my preference is to just try and not get too hot. Prenatal yoga, I would be into, but truthfully, only to meet other pregnant women, preferably some that have older children because I have some questions about childcare; namely, how do you get a really good nanny? (ps "nanny" sounds so pretentious! But what I really mean is a babysitter with very regular hours, not like a hot au pair that lives with you and does your errands too. Although that would be nice, minus the hot part). Or do you just use daycare because they will go out of business if they harm your child and because they can't just be sick or have their car break down and you are suddenly S.O.L. I have had some SUPER bad luck with hiring people off of Craigslist lately (that is a whole other blog post! See, I haven't blogged because I have been too busy hiring and training people I found on Craigslist and then having them quit or fall off the face of the earth. Seriously I either have a highly irresponsible person or an unsolved mystery on my hands right now). So I don' trust Craiglist. Which is why I need to go to pre-natal yoga to find out what is the deal with nannies/babysitters. Ok and maybe to relax.

And still, ix-nay on the belly dancing, but I always said, when I get pregnant, I am going to do all these fun forms of exercise I never do because I am swimming, biking, running, or doing something else to further my training. But then I looked at my pregnancy fitness regimen and it was like, running (lately more walking, ugh it feels so geriatric but I can't breathe when I run anymore, which makes it no fun!), biking, swimming, and the occasional jaunt on the elliptical. So boring! Enter Zumba. I went this morning for the first time without my sister.

And I realized why people are nuts for this new Latin dance fitness craze. Let me put it this way: It was the first time I have done something athletic in Boulder and did not feel like it was a competition that I was losing. And believe me, if you could compete in Zumba I would be at the waaay back of the pack. My hips just don't do certain things. And I can't shimmy. I tried really hard when my pledge class did a dance to "Material Girl" for Greek Jam in 1997. They tried to teach me but eventually the girls gave up on me. But in Zumba, I looked around and realized no one else was so great of a shimmy-er either and the best part was NO ONE CARED. They were all like my mom's age and wearing loose comfortable clothes and they were just dancing their asses off for the heck of it. And if they were having as hard of a time following the moves as I was, I know they weren't watching me, because they were too busy watching the instructor, who was adorable and she had those cute two-toned Zumba pants with the tabs on the butt pockets that wiggle when you shake around. Maybe when I get good I will buy a pair too. I just wore a running outfit because that is the only fitness-wear I have. And I will get good, or at least better, because I will do Zumba once a week from now on, at least till the baby comes. Then it's back to the grind. Or not, we'll see. Like I said, game changer...

Other game changers: The midwife said to avoid any low-fat foods and to liberally eat fats, because that's good for the baby and my tissues. It's not like I have been swallowing sticks of butter or slugging back shots of olive oil, but WOW is it nice to not think about how much butter I put on my gluten free toast or to have to be anxious when I eat the eggs Dan fries for me because I just know he went crazy buttering the pan in a way that I would never do. Grilled cheese!?! Do you know how good grilled cheese is?? I used to maybe put a tomato and some mozzarella on a rice cake and toast it. Which is quite good. But I'm talking about muenster on Udi's gluten free bread on a cast iron skillet with a generous pat of butter, fried slowly on medium-low heat for the ultimate, lightly browned, perfect, ooey gooey grilled cheese sammy. MMMMMMM! For dinner tonight I made tuna noodle casserole with a fancy butter flour cheese sauce and it was so creamy and delish!! Oddly I am not craving sweets, although I normally do. I miss enjoying sweets the way I used to although I used to wish I didn't have a sweet tooth.

Also I cry every time I watch Boston Med. I am not sure if that is a new thing though, because I never watched it before the pregnancy. I also laugh every time a baby is born on the show. I don't know why, there is nothing funny about it... Kind of like how people laugh when a rabbit comes out of a magician's sleeve- not funy, but still makes you laugh. Do you watch Boston Med? Does it get you choked up?? I love that show because it is the only show I have ever seen that takes place in a hospital that is realistic. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE Scrubs as much as the next person, but it's not very realistic. Neither is Gray's Anatomy. E.R, I am not sure, I only ever watched it in high school, before I had worked in like a dozen different hospitals. And I am happy to say one of my fears about pregnancy was that all the gross stuff (especially some of the smells) at the hospital would make me vomit, but thankfully that has not been an issue.

So there you have it; Anyone can Zumba, it really is a good workout, and hopefully something my mid-wife will approve of. I wonder if they make the Zumba pants in a maternity style. Which is moot right now, as I look basically the same as I did three months ago, in case you were curious.

Oh and another thing, everyone who has asked me what I training for this summer, and I have been really weird and vague about it, well here is your answer. I am not a lazy triathlete! I am growing an infant which is now the size of a lime according to Babycenter.com! Oh it feels so good to be able to say it!! It's like unbuttoning your pants after a huge Thanksgiving meal.

Race Report: Bolder Boulder

2011-06-02T21:04:00.002-06:00

What can I say beside I love this race? There is no race like this race. Period. The Bolder Boulder has been run since the year I was born. 2011 marked the year the one millionth person would cross the line of this race. ONE MILLION. This race makes people who hardly even exercise scratch their heads and go, "Everyone's doing it, I will too!" And by everyone, I mean everyone. Over 50,000 people participated this year.

The only way to keep it organized is to have people run in waves. Either you qualify for a time based on a previous race or a treadmill test or you run in the back in one of the dozens of hour plus waves. I qualified for a spot in the 48ish minute finishers wave, CA. This meant that I had to be at the start line for 7:07:40. They are not messing around. 20 seconds late and I would have had to go with the CB's. There are even people standing by each wave to make sure you belong there, bouncers, if you will. Except thinner and more friendly.

As I stood with my CA comrades, I sized them up and almost immediately decided who I needed to beat. It was Miss Perfect herself, standing just a few feet from me. Although her blond hair had dark roots, it was in two long braids and was perfectly not exactly perfect. Her body was just plain old perfectly perfect, like the ladies in fitness videos. She wore a skintight tri top and a pink running skirt. Her nails were perfectly French manicured. On her wrist was a fancy Garmin, with which she was messing, to make sure probably, that her splits were- you guessed it- perfect. I had to take her down.

The gun went off. At the last minute I had decided not to set my watch, and just to go by feel. My training, if you could call it that, had been spotty. I was trying to recover from the marathon, maintain my fitness, and try to sharpen for this race. I was also lacking a solid plan and significant motivation but my goal was to break 48 and at least to do better than my time in 2008, however they changed the course slightly this year, which made it a bit harder. In the first place, its a tough course, with a net elevation gain and at least 15 sharp turns.

My legs felt good. I'd had a solid warm-up. Now I was just enjoying the vibe. There were bands every mile or so, and lots of spectators and everything from belly dancers to a Slip and Slide lining the neighborhood streets. I was just overcome by how much I love this town! I love its mountains, I love its people, I love this race. I thought to myself "I live in the best town anywhere!" (Pawtucket is a close second. Kind of). I smiled to myself, and added "smile a lot" to my race plan. I was not so overwhelmed by emotion however that I forgot about Perfect. I could see her just ahead. I knew the first half of the first mile was uphill and I saw no need to push it too hard now. As it was, I was keeping what felt like a tempo pace, a comfortable hard that I knew would become uncomfortable soon.

Around mile 2, I started to think, "This hurts." I replied to myself "It's supposed to." I wondered if it would be easier if I was a kilometer person, as the kilometers were marked, too. Kilometers go by so much faster! But there are so many of them... I went around and around in my head like this for a while. Around 2.5 miles, I started to pull Perfect in. I passed her easily and never saw her again. Oh I how I loved this race!

Finally, after what seemed like endless turns, endless gradual climbs, we turned east on Pearl and before me was at least a mile of downhill running! I felt so good. We were at about mile 4 and I was passing people left and right. I was hurting, but not like I was going to die. I still had no idea of my pace, but I knew I felt like I was supposed to feel. By the time we passed the 5 mile mark, the "I might vomit" feeling was upon me, but I was so close. Passing the corner of Folsom and Canyon I thought Dan might surprise me with a cheer, like he did in 2008, but I guess that's what people mean when they say marriage changes your relationship. To be fair, Dan supported me in a major way by dropping me off at the start line at 6am. That's love.

Just when you are almost done with the race, the course gets ugly. There was a gradual climb up Folsom, and then a steeper climb leading us into the CU football stadium. Then just a couple hundred meters of flat running on this metal flooring stuff they put down to protect the football field. Finally, done! I looked at my watch and tried to figure out my time but the math just wasn't computing. I turned to a woman on my right who started in my wave and asked her if she knew what our time was. She thought 50:20. I was surprised, thinking I should have at least done what I did in '08 (48:46), but not entirely disappointed, knowing I ran as hard as I could have and perhaps was still not recovered from the marathon.

Later, I waited in the stands with friends, as the elite race didn't go till 11am, and they showed a live feed of the leaders on the jumbotrons in the stadium (so cool!). Dan texted me "Great job, babe!" He would know better than to say "Great Job" about not even breaking 50 minutes. I needed to get to the bottom of this. It turned out Dan had looked me up online (Bolder Boulder is so freaking organized!); Over the phone, he read me all my mile splits (everywhere from 8 something to 7:35!) and said my time was listed as 48:44! I don't think I would have been as happy about this had I not been moping about the 50 whatever time I thought I had posted, but I was. I guess it's all relative.

The next thing I need to do is find a normal 10k (eg, finish and start at the same place and doesn't have a turn every 200 feet) so I can break 48 minutes. I haven't done that since 2007 and I just know I can do it again.

Dear Guardian Angel,

2011-05-06T10:04:00.005-06:00

I just wanted to say "Thanks." I don't know why you picked me, maybe it's because I need you so much? Dan sometimes shakes his head and asks me, "How did you live before you met me?" Not because he is arrogant or anything like that, far from it! Just because he is pretty responsible, and I am... not irresponsible, but just more, I don't know what you call it. "Scattered" evokes the image of a lady running errands with a stray curler left in the back of her head. Not scattered. And not disorganized... just needing a lot of Post-It notes or something.

It feels like every time I turn around, I am losing something or forgetting something. Like yesterday, we were about to get on the highway to head to Boston Logan when I realized I had left my phone at my parents'. That would have sucked if I'd forgotten it!!! Anyway, Dan doesn't realize perhaps that yes, he helps me a lot, but even before there was Dan, there was you, my angel, making sure my whole life didn't go to hell in a handbasket, and at the very least, keeping me safe from identity theft, just because I am a bit careless at times.

I don't mean to be cocky, but after over 30 years of this, I worry less because I just sort of know you will take care of me. I know, you are shaking your head like "Worry less!? The best part of all this is watching you curse and dump out your purse like 10 times while you flip out!" Did you think it was funny this week, watching me lose my sh*t when I couldn't find my license?! Honestly, I don't blame you if you thought it was a riot, watching me make a dozen phone calls, photocopy our engagement and wedding announcements, get my mom to dig out my birth certificate, and attempt to get to the airport extra early (which I would have if we hadn't had to go back for my cel phone) in case I needed time to convince the TSA of my identity, only to find my license had been sitting at the Southwest office at Denver Int'l Airport for over a week, even though they were all "We would have mailed it our Dallas headquarters within 24 hours of finding it"!? Seriously, I was not only dreading having to spend this morning at the DMV, but also- my license picture with my new last name turned out CUTE, and I wasn't sure a new pic would be as attractive.

But then there was that time, remember in 2008, when Dan and I went to Philly for my friends' wedding, and I must have dropped my license in security, who knows... I ended up getting a new one right away (with an even cuter pic than the first one), and then the airline mailed me my old license within a weeks' time. That was sweet because I had a spare ID, which came in handy more than once.

What about that time in graduate school, I had a bit too much fun celebrating the end of the semester the night before my flight home for Christmas break!? Remember how I passed out in my clothes, and I woke up when my friend walked in my apartment the next morning and I was still asleep even though it was time for her to drive me to the airport!? I was so frazzled, I forgot my purse, but the beauty of the whole thing was my drivers' license was still in the pocket of the pants I never bothered to change!

Which reminds me of the time in Vegas, I had to return to Pure the next night when they opened again because I had left without closing out the tab (don't ask), and after a lot of problems, the main one being I was having a hard time even locating the entrance of the club, because Caesar's Palace is BIG and my sense of direction is BAD, and then when I finally got everything sorted out, they returned my credit card AND my license, which I didn't even know I had lost!

Also, thanks for making sure no one stole my huge leather purse, which included my wallet and my passport when I left it at that cafe in Costa Rica. OMG, were you dying when Dan and I drove 2 hours to return the rental car, it was POURING down rain, and I had to tell Dan we had to go back to that place we ate lunch, the place whose name started with an "M," except we didn't remember anything else, except that it was on the lefthand side of the road, because I totally forgot my purse!? And then I had to make Dan drive most of the way, even though he'd already been driving basically all day, because I am a total grandma when it comes to night driving!? It wasn't funny at the time, but it's kind of funny now. The best part was, when I walked into the place, and no one spoke English, but the guy at the bar pointed at me and gestured about a big square, and then I nodded, and he brought out my bag from the back, completely intact!

Or what about that time I was working out at the Wellness Center, like a hundred years ago when I lived in Chapel Hill, and when I got back to my car, my purse, which was supposed to have been in the car, was totally not there and I realized I had left my passenger window wide open and I wigged out because obviously someone had reached in and just grabbed it. Remember how I was feeling like such an idiot when I went up to the front desk to borrow the phone to call the police, and then the reception lady held up the floral bag and she was like "Is this it?" Some awesome person saw that my window was wide open with the purse on the passenger side so they brought it in for safe keeping.

And that same purse- you must love that purse as much as I do (except can you help me find the matching mini-bag that goes with it, I haven't seen that in years!), because of that time I left it at the Starbucks at Wadsworth and Alameida. That was crazy, the whole day went by and it was like 9pm when I realized it was missing and that was the last place I'd had it, at like 8:30 that morning. I called up and sure enough they had it but I didn't feel like schlepping 45 minutes to get it that night, when I would practically be down the street the next morning for work. I felt the Starbucks lady had a nice vibe about her and that my purse would be safe till the next morning, and when I got there the next morning, before I could even say "Double shot Americano with a shot of steamed soy in a 16 oz cup," the lady looked at me and yelled "Flower Power!" (a nod to the wacky flower print on the bag), as if I were just another regular, even though that was only the second time I'd ever been in there. As usual, nothing was even missing!

And don't think I forgot about the time I lost my hospital ID badge this fall. It wasn't just my ID badge, but also my Eco-Pass and a nearly full $20 cash card for the cafeteria that I lost. You have been so good to me, but I never expected you would figure out a way for someone to have returned all that stuff to the emergency room, and that the receptionist there would have contacted me within 24 hours, before I even had time to go to HR for a new badge and to try to beg for a new Eco-Pass!

And the bus pass I lost in graduate school- that was worth like $200 and somehow I lost it... On the very day I was ready to bite the bullet and buy a new one, someone from... was it the Safety office? Who knows, they called me to tell me someone had turned in my bus pass.

And that whole thing with my cel phone, remember when I left it in the hotel in Silverthorne and I worried I would never see it again, but then the hotel guy eventually mailed it me and I did get it, albeit 10 days later... That was a close one!

Anyway, all of this to say, I haven't forgotten all the times you have come to my aid, helping to return all the important things I have lost track of. Thank you!!!

Love,
Pam

Race Report: Cox Providence Marathon

2011-05-04T09:09:00.007-06:00

In a nutshell, this was (very nearly) the best day I could have hoped for!!

From the outset, I felt prepared, although I was not totally sure I could sustain my desired pace (8:24) for an entire marathon... I knew I would not be able to do it at altitude, although I also knew I run much faster at sea level... How much faster was not exactly clear. But then again, there is no such thing as "clear" when predicting race pace... that's what makes it interesting:)

I picked out my outfit the day before the race. I packed many options, to be prepared for different types of weather and different moods, but with my sister's help, I selected an outfit of my new (-ish) Saucony red shorts and the red t-shirt I had gotten from the Boulder Backroads Spring Half Marathon. I wasn't sure I was feeling the all-red outfit. Would I look like a big period? My sister assured me I would not. In my mind, I was red hot, on fire, turbo mode...basically anything fast.

Sunday morning came and all I felt was tired. I had forced myself to leave my brother's surprise party by 9pm the night before (why is it that parties are the most fun when you have to work/run/do anything really early the next morning??) and I was in bed, asleep by 10:30. I slept like a rock but 5:45 am came a little too early. Once I listened to some of my "Get Psyched" playlist and had taken a few sips of a Starbucks drink I found in my parents' pantry, things started to look up.

When Dan dropped me off near the start line, I was a little reluctant to get out of the car. I was nervous about my race. After lingering and whining for a little while, I got out of the car and watched Dan pull away. I wondered if he would have a hard time with all Providence's tricky one way streets as I walked toward the start area.

I found a sunny spot in the doorway of a building where I sat and tried to relax for a good 15 minutes and then made my way toward the line. I was shocked to find little signs lined up about every eight feet or so, reading "7 minute," "8 minute," "9 minute," etc... Because that meant I was supposed to stand pretty close to the start line. It felt awfully strange to start a marathon that close to the front, but the last thing I wanted was to wade my way through hordes of people, so I got where I was supposed to be, looked around to see if there was anyone I knew, and waited. With about five minutes till the gun went off, I caught sight of a familiar looking redhead. Almost instantly, I recognized her as someone whose blog I'd read a couple of times... If memory served me, she was also trying to run a 3:40. This was fabulous! I kept her in sight and caught up to her easily sometime in the first mile... It turned out she was indeed the blogger I thought she was, her name was Katie, and she was running with another gal, Shelby, who also was shooting for a 3:40. It was my lucky day! I had been hoping to find someone to run with and here were not one but two willing people!!! Hooray! My mindless blog reading had finally served me in a productive, meaningful way!

Around mile 2, as we approached the Henderson Bridge, there were my sister, her brother in law, nieces, nephew, and Dan, with clever, colorful signs, cheering for me! Katie, Shelby and I kept up a nice, steady pace that hovered around 8:20 to 8:30 ish for the next several miles as the course wound up Veteran's Memorial Parkway... I made sure to thank all the volunteers, who were great. This was a very well organized race. Around the eighth mile or so we said goodbye to Katie, who was perking up and wanting to go faster. Shelby and I stuck together as the miles ticked by.. We hit mile 10 right at 1:23:30.. perfect! We got the the halfway point at 1:50... right on... Around mile 14, Shelby started to fade and so I went ahead. I missed having her company but I was preoccupied to some extent by my own thoughts... My main one being "Na na na, Come, on, Come on, Come on," the chorus of a song that I am too embarrassed to discuss any further on this blog, but which I am sure you have heard... The miles continued to roll along and I continued to smile and thank all the volunteers, and encourage other runners, most of whom did not acknowledge me, which I can only assume was due to the fact that they had their earbuds in. By mile 17 I was still smiling, knowing that this was the first marathon I had run where I felt this good this far into the race. At mile 20 my watch read 2:49... I knew I was supposed to have been there at 2:47 if I was on pace for my 3:40 but I was not ready to give up on it yet. Starting around mile 20 I kept telling myself "You're getting a second wind," hoping it would come true if I said it to myself.

Miles 22-24 took us right by the water, on the bike path where I had logged so many miles training for Ironman Lake Placid in 2007... the same bike path where I had completed my first "epic ride," a 25 mile expedition on my pink 10 speed Huffy ca. 1996 with two of my girlfriends.... This was the same ground I had covered at race pace the weekend of my sister's wedding just two months ago... Could the pavement of this path where I worked so hard so many times before please give me a little strength as my legs started to fatigue and the wind started pushing me back??? The best I could hope for was to tuck in behind any tall person who got in front of me and focus on just getting to the next tree, the next pole, the next anything... I had missed my 3 hour gel, as my stomach was feeling burpy and a little pukey... I wished I had planted another bottle of Nuun for myself somewhere on the course, I was so thirsty! I remembered that this was supposed to feel hard and tried to maintain my pace but my legs were not cooperating as my pace sunk into the 9:30ish range. At the 23 mile mark, my limited math skills told me I would need to run a 25 minute 5k to finish in a time of 3:40, and I was not sure if I could do it but I was not willing to rule it out, so I just kept on running as hard as thought I could reasonably maintain.

As we crossed over the Seekonk River on narrow, concrete footpath of 195, I got a little second wind and picked up the pace some, only to find my breathing coming out in these loud, wretched gasps. The path dumped us out at the Radisson, which is now the Windham, but in my mind it will always just be the place we stayed the night of our wedding. We passed it and took the path through India Point Park, the same path we walked almost a year ago from the hotel to Duck and Bunny for a drink in our wedding clothes, just to not have to end the night... which is what I was thinking about when I was fresh and happy as we went that way on the way out, but on the way back I was not exactly in the frame of mind to reminisce. Some lady came out of nowhere and we ran next to each other for a bit, pushing each other to maintain the pace.

Then there was Dan, cheering for me at about the 25 mile mark. I begged him to stay and run with me a little, which he did. This was good because when I later wondered aloud if I could have run faster, he was able to assure me with confidence that I was miserable and working very hard.

The motivating lady ultimately dropped me... I had just about a mile to go but it felt like forever. Finally, I turned the corner for the finish chute and crossed the line in a time of 3:46! A nine minute PR! My sister and brother in law were there, cheering for me just before the finish line. We waited around a bit and I got to see Shelby finish, too.

Of course I am very happy about the way things turned out, but I am already plotting the demise of those six little minutes for my next marathon...

Confessions of a Nosey Runner

2011-04-21T13:52:00.005-06:00

I love the track. It is where I run fast. There are no cracks in the pavement to watch out for, no cars to be careful of, no groups of middle aged ladies walking four abreast like they own the entire bike path, and no idiots deafened by headphones zipping by on skateboards within millimeters of my body, scaring the living daylights out of me. It's just me and the track. I can look toward the corner, or I can look toward the sky. I can stare at the goal post and imagine my fast friend is on my right, silently daring me to try and stay at her shoulder. The track, for all the quad busting, lung burning pain it inflicts, is my happy place.

I especially love my neighborhood high school track. This track is literally a 6 minute walk or an easy 3 minute 46 second warm up jog from my house. It is so close in fact, that it occurred to me recently, while I was evaluating the severity of my sudden need to use the bathroom, that I could simply jog home during my recovery lap, costing me no more than a few extra minutes. (I didn't do it, but it was nice to know there was my very own toilet was that close, should I ever need it in the future). The track is so close, I can hear the high school band practicing when I open my front door. It is just as nice as any track I've ever used, including the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill track, and it has better scenery than any track I've ever used, with a picture perfect view of the Flatirons in the northwest corner.

My track draws not just high school kids but professional athletes as well. I deserve no thanks from my tight hip flexors for the laborious, detailed attention I paid to stretching them out last Friday. Rather, the credit belongs entirely to a runner I'd never seen before; I thought maybe she was Tera Moody but when I googled Ms. Moody I realized the object of my voyeurism was probaby too petite to be her and the faces didn't seem to match. I took my sweet time stretching after my workout, staring at not-Tera Moody through my sunglasses, hoping she couldn't see my eyes. More than Facebook, more than just one more episode of How I Met Your Mother, but not quite more than eating oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, watching her was addictive. Not-Tera Moody appeared to be sponsored by Adidas, as she was rocking the triple stripe logo from head to toe to backpack. She removed her warm up pants to reveal a pair of turquoise butt shorts- you know the ones I mean- they look like underwear, but they have a little more material, and the only people who can get away with wearing them have little to no body fat and only the smoothest, toned-ist, most perfect thighs? Yeah, those. She did a bunch of dynamic warm-ups/plyometrics I'd never seen before, including moves resembling Rockette kicks and a few Karate-like kicks, and then she was ready to go. As she accelerated into her effort, her legs moved so fast they were nearly a blur, like a cartoon character standing at the edge of a cliff, running in place before he drops off the edge.

I watched, transfixed as non-Tera Moody did this routine for a few 100 meter sprints, and then it occurred to me I had to get home and start my day. It's either creepiness or curiosity that found me gazing at her, although I prefer to think it's the latter. I've been observing people for a living for nearly ten years now, it's just who I am. (Yes, I get paid to watch people! No, I am not a spy, I'm an occupational therapist. Note: It is not always as glamorous as it sounds. Imagine "Scrubs" meets "Dirty Jobs" and you are starting to get the picture).

During the bulk of my workout that day, I could not help but ogle my "training partners" (aka total strangers who happen to be using the track simultaneously with me), Mr. Fast and Mr. Faster. It's hard not to stare at their tight little runner butts as they pass you like you are standing still and Mr. Faster calls out to his buddy "80!" at the first quarter. In other words, 80 seconds per quarter... equals 2:40 for an 800... equals...come on brain, THINK!...a 5:20 mile! Mr. Faster moves like a gazelle, his long, thin, muscular legs, moving in a fluid stride with a strong kick. His upper body is upright and relaxed, and his steps appear effortless. Except I know he is human, even if he is part antelope, because I can hear him breathing in hard, steady gasps as he laps me. Mr. Fast is shorter and stockier than his speedier friend, although don't get me wrong, he is the type of guy your eyes would linger on if you caught sight of him at the gym. His stride is shorter, his muscled legs are pistons, propelling his body forward, never giving up, even as Mr. Faster puts more and more time into him. I imagine Mr. Faster is one of those people that races all his workouts but fails to deliver on race day and Mr. Fast has the scrapiness to outkick his buddy when it counts. Maybe Mr. Fast is silently smirking, imagining himself beating his training buddy at their next event.

As much as I like watching the pros and making up stories about what must be their invigorating, perfect, fast lives, I like watching the high school kids, too. Today, as I was doing my jog recovery between 800's, I found some papers blowing in the wind. Being a) an environmentally conscious person who hates litter, b) genuinely concerned as to whether someone had lost an important file and c) just plain old ~~nosey~~ fascinated by humanity, I paused to see what they were. They turned out to be a series of questions which were apparently related to a science class wherein the students were to use heart rate and temperature readings after periods of physical exertion to learn about the body's ability to maintain homeostasis. Cool stuff. I wedged it underneath a bench, should it's owner come a-searching.

Not 10 minutes later, the track was inundated by a group of shrieking girls and tumbling boys, a group I could only guess were freshman, given the fact that most of the girls were anywhere from 2 inches to a full head taller than most of the boys. They were followed by their teacher, a hip looking guy who appeared to be somewhere in his mid-30's (think Mr. Schuster from Glee). I imagined the girls had crushes on him.

The kids were running around like maniacs, cheering for each other, taking each other's pulse rate and also "temperature-izing" one another. And while they did not offer the same caliber of strength and beauty I so enjoyed when creeping around the elite runners I encountered on the track last week, the students offered something else entirely; the opportunity to for me to
a) Enjoy their unabashed silliness and seeming lack of self-consciousness even though it had to have been lurking there, not in the shadows but probably in the forefront, given the fact that they were around 15 years old and that is just what being 15 is about, and more importantly
b) Collect data on what the girls were wearing. Because I have no idea what is cool anymore. Case in point: It took me 15 minutes of sitting in traffic as I drove through the CU campus yesterday to figure out that all the festivities and gridlock were in honor of 4/20. Duh.

Apparently, wearing different color socks is in. The kids were all either barefoot or wearing running shoes. The girls who went barefoot were wearing stuff like a purple sock on one foot and a blue sock on the other foot, or a yellow sock on one foot and a red sock on the other foot. I am not sure if I will adopt this fashion move. It is highly unlikely. I take time and effort to pair up my socks when I take them out of the dryer. You better believe I am not going to mess up one of the few sources of order in my life. Also, low-rise, tapered jeans are de rigeour among the high school set. Moreover, they are cuffing their jeans in a way that closely resembles the way we used to do it ca. 1988. I like this style because it means perhaps I can save some money on not having to have all my pants hemmed. And I don't have enough data points to determine whether this is cool or not, but one girl was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt, again, very much like the type we created ourselves at a birthday party of mine ca. 1989, using Fruit of the Loom undershirts, elastics, and buckets of various colors of Rit dye (God bless you, Mom). There was only one girl wearing such a shirt, and I couldn't tell if she was perhaps the class dork or what, so I can't yet draw any conclusions.

After watching the students (again, discreetly, through the shaded anonymity of my sunglasses) I reluctantly abandoned my meticulous stretching routine, as I felt I had exhausted the opportunities for data collection, and more importantly, I was hungry. I don't know when I will visit the track again. There are no track workouts on my calendar from now until the marathon, and after the marathon, it will probably be a couple of weeks or more till I feel like trying to run fast again. On the other hand I could always show up at the track to stretch, right? Because I'm just a curious person who loves the track.

He said, she said

2011-04-15T12:09:00.003-06:00

Research has shown that women speak up to three times more words per day than men speak, on average. But is it true? That sounds like a big discrepancy. Well, if numbers, figures, and statistics aren't your thing, here is a little qualitative research for you, based on a non-scientific study I performed over the last 24 hours:

This morning, when I was on the phone with my sister, she mentioned she had called me last night. She continued, "I thought I was calling your cell phone because in my phone I have my contacts mixed up and I have your Skype phone as your cell number and your cell number as your Skype number. So I didn't realize I was calling your Skype phone, and then Dan picked up, and I thought it was you, because I thought I was calling your cell, so I was like 'Are you okay?' Because it didn't sound like you at all. And he was like 'I'm fine, what's up?' And I still thought you sounded really weird, like maybe you were sick or something but I was like 'Not much, what are you doing?' and he said, 'Cooking,' and then I realized it was Dan, not you, and he thought I was you!"

On the other hand, when I returned from the gym yesterday and walked through the door, Dan called out from the kitchen, "Your sister called."

Pre-race stress, Mind workouts, and Sweaty Bands

2011-04-14T20:51:00.006-06:00

Last night I dreamed it was the end of the day, and somehow I had skipped a workout and there was NO WAY to fit it in.. This was stressing me out BIG TIME, even though it was just a 30 minute easy recovery spin on the bike... I knew it was not a key workout but all the same, panic was coursing through my veins just the same as it would be for a normal person gripped in the nightmare that the car is driving downhill and the brakes no longer function. Truth be told (in real life, not the dream), I have only skipped one workout throughout this whole training cycle. So I should be feeling extra super duper prepared for the marathon, but try telling that to my subconscious mind.

What is new here is that I am actually having an anxiety dream that is appropriate to the situation. When I was in school, during the year I would dream I showed up at camp but none of my bunkmates recognized me and I didn't have any of my clothes, stationery, toiletries, jacks, cards, or gimp (I think it's called lanyard if you're being PC). And during the summer, I would dream I was showing up for some exam but had not taken the course. In my adult life (I am an adult now! I'm not sure yet if I've had a chance to sit at the grown-up table, but last year I made the brisket, yes I made a freaking brisket for ten people and it was tender and juicy when I hosted the seder for Passover, so that counts for sure as grown-up), I tend to dream that its 7:55 and I am just getting to the venue of some triathlon that starts at 8:00 and I don't have my wetsuit, my bike, or anything, when I am stressing about work. So last night's race anxiety dream matches the situation.

But here is the thing; I am as ready as I am ever going to be. The race is in 2.5 weeks. This is it. I've never been one to stay up all night studying (although I have stayed up all night to finish a paper but that's different)... Because you get to a point and either you know the material or you don't and the best thing to do is get a good night's rest and like my dad always said, drink some OJ with your breakfast. And ps my dad is enrolled at Brown University, you might have heard of it, it's an Ivy League school...and for any Coloradoans who don't give a flip or even know what the Ivy League is, it is to college what ironman is to triathlon, or what a 5'15 is to climbing. My dad also thinks running a marathon is complete mishegas (and btw, have you any idea how hard it is to find a link to a good definition of the word "mishegas?" I didn't think the word was that obscure)... I believe my dad's comment to me as we stood around the finish line of the Cape Cod Marathon was "So now that they have finished running a marathon, when are all these people going to start hitting themselves in the head with a crowbar?"

But anyway... The work is done. I've done my long runs, my track workouts, my hill workouts, my strength workouts, my core workouts. I've even been doing my mind workouts... I am totally getting into this book called "In Pursuit of Excellence: How to Win in Sport and Life"
by Terry Orlick. It's got a lot of practical exercises you can do to make sure you are giving yourself positive, productive self-talk during training and racing. It also gives concrete advice on how to set long-term and short-term goals (which really are useful both in sport and in life, as the title so aptly suggests). Also, last night I went to my triathlon club meeting, where our guest speaker was a neurolinguistic practitioner, who taught us a number of other strategies to optimize performance via mental training.

And while I am totally down with mental training and I think it's really important to believe you can do something before you are physically able to do it, there is also the whole reality thing. Reality = doing the training to get you to your goal. Believe me, I've raced both ways; prepared and underprepared. All the happy thoughts in the world cannot substitute for hard, focused work. Period. Confidence doesn't just come from self-esteem or a positive attitude. It comes from knowing you have put in the miles. Although this will be my sixth marathon, it will only be the second one where I am really trying to qualify for Boston, and only the first where runs at goal marathon pace were a regular part of my training program.

As far as anything I can do now beside get my rest, eat healthy, and prepare myself mentally for the race, I also plan not to wear my Garmin. Every single time I have worn it at a race, it has f*cked with my mind. Maybe I am just being superstitious, but it's too much constant information. I will be happy to wear my trusty Timex because information about my mile splits and listening to my body should be sufficient. I am also definitely going to wear one of my Sweaty Bands. Because I am obsessed with them. I got my first one as a gift a couple of years ago and I quickly determined it to be the ultimate bangs/wispies tamer. It has a velvet inside and a FUN outside with enough styles to match ANY outfit. You just can't get a better hair accessory. I tried to pick out another one last month but I ended up ordering six (although two were a gift for someone else). Seriously, go to the website. I dare you to try and pick just one. Bet you can't. If occupational therapy stops working for me, I want to be a Sweaty Bands sales rep.... Last night, Fleet Feet hosted our tri club meeting, and generously offered all merchandise at a 20% discount. I meant to get some gels and some Nuun but instead I came out with the Nuun and... another Sweaty Band.

The only thing left to do before the race is figure out which Sweaty Band is my lucky band...

Addendum: Dan rocks. He showed me how to add this Sweaty Bands button on the sidebar of my blog, so that if you click there you (or here) you can get 5% of your order!

Last long run!

2011-04-10T17:46:00.012-06:00

Today I did my last big run before the marathon... The first time I saw this run on my schedule on Training Peaks, I thought ok, no big whoop, I can do that. But as it loomed ever closer, it grew increasingly intimidating. I hoped my friend would be able to run at least part of it with me, but she wasn't available... it would be me, alone with this mammoth workout, 20 miles to be run as:

6 miles warming up I can do this in my sleep.
8 miles at goal marathon pace (8:24/mile) That will be hard.
2 miles easy That I can do.
2 miles faster than goal marathon pace Yikes.
2 miles cooling down. Got it.

By Saturday I had planned a route, filled my water bottles, and prepared my fuel belt with a variety of gels, espresso Hammer gel on the right (which turned out to be the left once I put it on) and miscellaneous flavors on the left. Saturday night I made the difficult choice to forgo what promised to be a super fun party in favor of staying in and making sure I got to bed at a reasonable hour, because I know how I am, I go out and think I am only going to stay for an hour or two but then it's always so fun I want to stay out longer, then before I know it I've been there the whole night, and then I come home and then its at least another hour before I have wound down sufficiently to even think about turning out the light. So I circumvented the whole thing and accepted the FOMO that came with that decision, (oh and ps, The New York Times, I have been talking about FOMO since 2005, just so you know). But I knew it was what I had to do to make sure the run would at least not suck, and at best, be a major confidence boost as my last long run before my taper (yay, taper!).

The conditions were nearly perfect, sunny, breezy, windy at times, but nowhere near the type of howling wind that had me swerving all over the track this Tuesday morning. Temps were around the 40's to begin with and gradually warmed to the mid 50's. The warm-up felt good, the eight mile goal race pace bit was a little hard but relaxed to start with and very painful by the end, and the two mile harder than race pace was plain old brutal and I only exceed my goal pace by 8 seconds per mile, but I got it all done in just a hair under three hours, so I will call it a success.

Sometimes people ask me what I think about when I am running. Mostly nothing of great importance except all the mental cheerleading I do for myself when my energy is waning. Here is a breakdown. I didn't feel like teaching myself how to make a pie chart using Excel so I drew it myself. Please note, according to my in-house IT Guru Extrordinaire, aka husband, Dan, if you click on it you can actually see it.

Time to write a blog post.

2011-04-08T10:03:00.006-06:00

Do you remember that Dunkin Donuts commercial they used to play all the time in the early/mid 80's where the little guy with the mustache is like "Time to make the donuts..." and you can tell its like ungodly early in the morning and he is 100% uninspired about the donuts, but the whole point of it is no matter what, some little guy is cranking out fresh donuts all hours of every day... Well that is how I am feeling about this blog right now. "Time to write a blog post..." That kind of has a nice little ring to it... Anyway, it would be nice if I could post every day or even every other day so there could be something fresh albeit without pink frosting and sprinkles for everyone (I use the term "everyone" loosely, I mean all of you dozen or so awesome people, including the Goldbergs and my mom, who check in for my ramblings), but somehow there are not enough hours in the day when I have something fantastic to say, and in my spare moments sometimes it feels like I don't have anything worth saying. (Although you can ask Dan, this is rare).

Today however is my day off (don't get all excited and hate me for having a weekday off, I am working Saturday. If you want to hate me, hate me because I basically never work a full 40 hour work week. I don't think I have done this since I moved to Colorado. Not that I couldn't do it, I have for most of my professional life, but I have just never liked it and considering this is working for us, I am going to keep it this way for as long as I can).

Anyway, today is my day off and so there loomed BLOG in all caps on my to-do list. A race report is my favorite default blog topic, because it saves me from having to think of a topic, but I haven't ran a race since the Boulder Backroads half marathon a couple of weeks ago, so that's out. What else... I would like to pre-write a race report for my upcoming marathon, but that's a little too new-agey and personal to write on my blog, although I might do it for myself, just to create my future, or hold the space or whatever. A lot of people in Boulder talk about "holding space" and I am not sure what that means, but I like saying it. It makes me feel crunchy and enlightened, like part of the Boulder gang. When we were kids my older brother used to tell jokes I did not understand but I would always laugh at the punchline anyway. Old habits die hard, I guess.

Anyway, speaking of new-agey holding the space of creation of destinies, the best advice I ever got from my mom (beside "Never trust a man who says 'Trust me'") was that if you want something really badly you need to say it out loud four times. Actually, she got it from Elizabeth Gilbert when she said it on Oprah, but I consider it advice from my mom because I never saw that Oprah episode (and while we are on the topic, why, why, WHY is Oprah not on Hulu? Oprah is all about helping people, which is great, but what about helping the people who don't have a TV? What about us, Oprah? We are people too and we would like to watch your show! And you too, Ellen! I don't want to see clips. I want FULL EPISODES!). So anyway, my mom said on Oprah, Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat Pray Love) said if you want something, you have to say it out loud four times. I was very skeptical at first, but I did it. And just to clarify, I wasn't like "I want to find my keys. I want to find my keys. I want to find my keys. I want to find my keys" even though I misplace my keys a lot. And my phone too. I save this for important requests.

I have done it for a few things and IT WORKS. I don't know how, I don't know why, but the beauty of it is you have absolutely nothing to lose. It only takes less than a minute. Even the most busy of people have time for this! I am tempted to use it right now to just to request the universe grant me something to write about, but I don't want to waste the power of The Great Four Time Ask. So far I am three for three since 2008 and I don't want to screw up my streak, so I am going to save it for something more important and write about nothing in the meantime.

And about writing about nothing- I have realized something really interesting lately, at least interesting to me- Writing and working out are very similar... For one thing, both are things that you might be really inspired to do, but chances are you aren't. You need to just get started and then there is a very good chance you will get into it once you get going. Or you might just slog through it and hate the whole thing but at least when it's over you feel like you at least did something and you feel a little better than when you started. Also, working out and writing aren't like other tasks, such as cleaning your car or unloading the dishwasher- you can't just put it off till tomorrow. You need to do it regularly or else you will lose your ability to do it. Of course you can get back to where you were, but it will be harder and it will take time. You lose a little fitness or creativity every day you stay away. You need to be disciplined, because you can't just wake up one day and write a novel (or maybe you can, I don't know about that, if I am wrong, can someone tell me how, if you know?? Please???), the same way you can't just get off the couch and run a marathon (well). It takes practice, and sometimes you will feel great in the process and sometimes you won't but you have to just keep doing it. Actually that is what our book club book is kind of about, why we as humans have a hard time with discipline... once I finish the book (I only have till 6:30 tonight!) I will write book review. Oh how lovely, another freebie blog topic for when I feel like the Dunkin Donuts guy, and I'm all Time to write a blog post... Stay tuned.

Race Report: Boulder Backroads Spring Half Marathon

2011-03-29T21:33:00.002-06:00

This race was not all that I hoped it would be... In my mind it was going to be a fantastic race, my legs would be a strong and fast, I would put together a wonderful day, and it would leave me satisfied, feeling confident that I could run 13.1 miles at a pace well below that which I hope to hold in just a few weeks during the Providence marathon. But this never happened. Instead...

I warmed up and felt nothing but cold, cold, cold! Why are my house and the Boulder reservoir 5 miles and eight climate zones apart?!? My outfit seemed appropriate when I got dressed at home but when I got out of my car at the Res, my teeth were chattering, and this continued for 1-2 miles... Once the numbness wore off and I felt my body, I noted that it felt just average. A lot of my average and even horrible warm ups end up as great, fantastic runs, so I wasn't worried. I wound down my warm up at 4.26 miles, although Coach Liz told me to warm up for 5 miles. I had run out of time.

The race started... I tried to avoid snaking around too much during the first mile. It's such a waste of energy, but so tempting! I settled into a pace and felt good for the first 3 miles, but between miles 3-4 I noticed my breathing was getting really labored. This was not right. I was only running a 8:45-9ish minute pace... what was the dilio? I tried to slow down but my legs were like zombies, locked into this pace, moving forward mindlessly... I made a conscious effort to slow down around mile 5 or so when I still was breathing stupidly hard and also noticing the intermittent pain I get in my butt/piriformis was really screaming at me. Why today!? Why now? At the turnaround I felt certain things would change, as now the wind would be at my back. This was not to be, however. It felt like no matter which way the course went, the wind was in my face. And try as I might to tuck in behind a tall person, it didn't seem to do much good. My legs had bought a one way ticket to Slow Town. Now I wasn't really breathing hard anymore, but I just didn't have that extra gear. Around mile 10 I was getting sick of myself and my lackluster performance and I told myself "Get it together and run like you know how to run." So I picked it up a few notches, but according to my Garmin I couldn't make my engine go faster than about an 8:30 pace. I was tempted to just turn my Garmin off but I feared that I would later want the data on my splits and wish I had left it on. At this point, I haven't bothered to review my mile splits, so I think it would have been better to just shut it off because it was annoying me.

The highlight of the race was during the last mile. From about 100 meters away, I could see a taller person standing just like Dan stands and a smaller person, together, holding neon signs. It couldn't be anyone other than Dan and my friend Lauren!! I waved hesitantly, and they waved back enthusiastically. I waved bigger and harder, and they in turn began shouting my name and waving neon, glitter signs that read "Pam! Go Pam" with glee. How wonderful it was to experience this outpouring love and signage!!! Their signs and cheering helped me give a final push for the last quarter mile to the finish chute. I finished in a time of 1:54:06, not my best time and not much of a confidence boost, and I still had a little over 2 miles to run so I could get in my 20 mile run. Lauren, my dear friend, who doesn't really run, ran about .25 miles of it with me, (Yay, Lauren!!! You and your little red shoes!!!). Dan was a trooper, and was willing to keep on chugging, despite the fact he was wearing jeans and a pea coat. He kept me company for all but the last .5 miles of my cool down, which was so awesome because I really really didn't want to do it at all.

So the good part is I got in my 20 miler, and I had two awesome cheerleaders, just for me! The other good part is Coach Liz thinks in the scheme of things, my training is progressing just fine and this race is not the be all end all, so I need not give up on my 3:40 marathon goal. The final good part is after the race we came home and made tacos with ground bison. My question is, do you set up a taco bar in your kitchen every so often? Because if you don't, you should. It so EASY and GOOD. Don't forget avocados.

A picture is worth a thousand words

2011-03-24T22:24:00.003-06:00

Lately I have been using Skype video chat to stay in touch with my family. Skype is great because there are certain things you just can't convey over a regular phone conversation. Like, tonight for example; I modeled my new haircut for my sister. I asked her if my bangs were too short. She looked at me and replied "You'll like them in two weeks." Freaking bangs.

Do's and Don'ts for Working From Home

2011-03-18T22:15:00.007-06:00

Have you ever dreamed of working from home? Have you fantasized about the traffic you could avoid, the comfort of staying in your pj's all day long, imagined the money you could save by eating lunch at home every day? I recently saw something... I cannot for the life of me remember what it was but somebody (a teenager, I think) called somebody (their parent?) a "dreamcrusher." This phrase comes to mind now, as I say that I believe, with every fiber of my being, that working from home sucks. I've been doing it part-time for nearly three years and in these short 31 months I have learned a few things that I would like to share.

If you have to work from home, here is the Original Pamela S. Moore List of Do's and Don'ts:

1) Do Get dressed. It helps trick your mind into thinking something important (e.g. work) is happening or could potentially happen, and this may (no guarantees here, just may) help you actually make something (e.g. work) happen. It sucks that no one will get to appreciate your cute outfit, much like the sound of a tree falling in the woods with no one to hear it, but you must get over this or see #7.

2) Don't take a break just to put a load of clothes in the wash. Because inevitably you will notice all the sad, abandoned clothes that were left in the dryer/on the drying rack and feel that now is the perfect time to fold them, and heck while you are at it, put them away, and jeez wouldn't you know by the time you are done with all that the wash cycle is over and your clothes need to be moved to the dryer, and if you are going down to the basement anyway, you might as well bring down another load of dirty clothes to throw in. And since you are in the basement, it wouldn't hurt to see what's in the chest freezer that you can defrost for tonight's dinner. And then you wonder how your 5 minute stretch break turned into a 45 minute break.

3) Do spend $10 on the web application "Freedom." It lets you make the internet totally inaccessible for however long you tell it to.

4) Click on "Freedom" and use it. Click on it before you start working, not after you have checked Gmail, Facebook, HuffPost and all your favorite blogs and then realize it's been an hour since you sat down and now you have to get up anyway to microwave your coffee. Going to the kitchen will only lead you to decide to empty the dishwasher and to finally collect the last three days' worth of Daily Cameras that have been littering the kitchen table and drop them in the recycle bin. This will mysteriously find you back at the computer no sooner than 20 minutes later.

5) Do not answer the phone!!! Do not answer for your sister, mother, friends, or anything non-work related. You must create the illusion that you are not always available even though you technically are! Answer only for your spouse, but only if its because you would start acting like a stark raving mad clingy lunatic if he/she didn't pick up when you called.

6) Do not check Amazon just to see if they have one item. OF COURSE THEY HAVE IT. THEY HAVE FREAKING EVERYTHING. That is why they are Amazon, not some website you've never even heard of. And ps if Amazon doesn't have it, E-bay probably will. Whatever it is, you can put it in your cart later. Because if you start with one item, 30 minutes later, you will have that one item plus five others in your cart which is fine because it is all tax deductible work related stuff BUT YOU STILL HAVE ACCOMPLISHED NO WORK and don't try to say its ok because all the stuff in your cart is relevant to your professional development because you won't give a crap at 8pm when you wish you were already home from the gym and having dinner but instead you are just starting your workout which you could have started 2 hours ago had you not been dicking around when you were supposed to be working.

7) Do go to a coffee shop but you must go with the expectation that someone loud and annoying will sit practically on top of you. Bring headphones and develop the ability to listen to music while working if you don't already know how to do that.

8) Do NOT schedule coffee dates, lunch plans, massages, other appointments, or stuff that you would normally do on a day off. You are WORKING. Even if you don't get as much done as you wanted, let it be the fault of the internet, not your own stupid fault for actively making plans not to work.

9) Have a goal and meet it. Create a reasonable goal of something you know you can accomplish by day's end and make it happen, even if it takes you longer than you thought it would. This lets you tell yourself "I mean business!" and will allow you to take yourself seriously now and in the future.

10) Create a reward system. I once told myself I could not under any circumstances get the
i phone, which I had been obsessed with for months (Was it worth it? I am not sure. The phone is great, its AT&T that I could do without, but that is a whole other topic for another post) until I got my work done. Often I simply tell myself, if you do the work now, you won't have to do it later, and this is sufficient incentive. I would have to work a lot more if I bought myself an i phone or the equivalent every time I got something done.

And finally, if you are more of a visual learner, let me break it down for you this way. If you don't get your work done, this is how you feel at the end of the day:

But if you do get your act together, you will feel like this:

And if you want to know what I am wearing, I don't even know what it is, I found it at my favorite consignment store, Rags, it is a shortsleeve hoodie with a fake pocket but the best part is it made me feel like Punky Brewster when I tried it on, so I had to get it.

The Paradox of Choice

2011-03-08T22:42:00.006-07:00

Sometimes I think I am really losing it. Like really. What else could explain the fact that I went to Marshall's today with the express purpose of returning three things, intending to put them toward store credit for two things- a photo album and a necktie for Dan, yet I found myself returning home with a nightgown for me (it was only $7, and sooo cute!), a black waffle long sleeve (for under my scrubs, only $3!!!), a cute sleeveless linen ruffled white top for me, a photo album (at least I didn't get completely sidetracked), a cute notebook, and.. not one, not two, not three... but six neckties for Dan? Somewhere between the idea of wanting to find him one great necktie to match his gray suit, matching up a white dress shirt with something gray to find the perfect color match, and realizing that all these shiny, silky Michael Kors and Kenneth Cole ties were priced at just ten dollars (Yes, ten dollars each!) I found myself paralyzed by all the choices and just got them all. I justified it by deciding I would take five back once I found out which one Dan liked best/hated least. So it's not that I am never going to make a decision, I am just going to delay it and delegate it.

My next stop was the libarary. I meant to put a few books in the drop box. Which I did. But I was just four short feet from the entrance to the warm, cozy library... You know where this is going. Never mind that I am still hoarding Boulder Public Library's copies of the scary cell phone radiation book and the Phillip Roth book I haven't started yet, and that I am still in the middle of "Kiss Me Kill Me" and a Zora Neale Hurston one I was really into six weeks ago, plus the copy my dad gave me of Shutter Island at Thanksgiving, which I haven't even cracked... I walked out with no fewer than half a dozen books, with titles ranging from "How We Decide" (for my book club) to "Perfect Murder, Perfect Town" (I am kind of obsessed with Jon Benet Ramsey... I am curious to see how this one compares to the other one I read about her murder). The potpourri also included topics on childbirth (for informational purposes only!!) and notebooks of convicts.

Here's the thing I am now realizing... It's not that I have the attention span of a child. It is the fault of society that I am this way! I learned this from a Ted Talk I watched the other night while I was doing my strength routine in the basement. And can I just say, Ted Talks are the greatest thing to watch while you are working out!? You don't have to be watching the whole time as long as you can hear it, and instead of rotting your brain by watching The Bachelor which I may or may not have been addicted to in the very recent past, you actually get smarter by watching these. And each one is only 20 minutes long!! So if you have ~~the attention span of a child~~ limited time, it's perfect! Thank you psychologist Barry Schwartz for helping me understand that my issue is just the Paradox of Choice, and it is really a function of society, not me. Here is the link to Mr. Schwartz's enlightening talk.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VO6XEQIsCoM

Light Reading

2011-02-27T20:32:00.007-07:00

I went to Las Vegas this weekend, which was awesome except that is not what this post is about. When I left, I was in the middle of this book, "Disconnect : the truth about cell phone radiation, what the industry has done to hide it, and how to protect your family" by Devra Davis. It's very interesting and something I think everyone should read, (seriously, read it!! And take your cell phone away from your head. Now.), but not on vacation. Vacation is about books with glossy, colorful covers, not a black background with a picture of a phone on it. Vacation is about Stieg Larson, Jennifer Weiner, David Sedaris, maybe even Real Simple or Oprah. But in my packing frenzy, which involved limited time and multiple pairs of boots, too many peep toe heels, a flat iron I never even used, thanks to my cousin and hers being constantly plugged in and hot, and half a laundry basket full of stuff I decided not to pack at the last minute, I ran out of time to pick the perfect vacation book.

At the last minute I perused the library selections I had stacked on the coffee table. There was "The Human Stain" by Phillip Roth. Like the scary cell phone book, this is one I want to read, just not on vacation. And "Care of the Soul of Medicine" by Thomas Moore... an intriguing-ish read, although not compelling enough to keep me interested beyond the first half. And nothing about my professional life should ever intersect with the part of my life in which I wear my zebra dress, and that's that. I was left with Augusten Bouroughs's "A Wolf at the Table: A Memoir of my Father." The cover had a creepy looking melting red fork on it, but how dark could it be? After all, "Running with Scissors" was pretty funny, albeit somewhat depressing, and I had faith Burroughs would not disappoint.

So I was on the plane Sunday, finding myself totally disturbed by the content of this Augusten Burroughs book. It's really heartbreaking stuff about his father's verbal and physical abuse. I just couldn't deal with it. It was too heavy. I had work I could do, but that's mainly to do with chronic pain. Not the light reading I was yearning for.

Then I remembered I had my iPad. I got into the the only e-book I had downloaded, "Kiss Me, Kill Me," by Ann Rule. This is a melange of stories about case files of murders of young women, mostly in the Pacific Northwest, throughout the 1960's and 70's, some of which have been solved, many of which have not. This was a real (virtual) page turner. I was really annoyed when we began our descent into Denver and I had to power off my device. I had no choice but to sit and do absolutely nothing, with my iPad off and my tray table up.

At this point it occurred to me that I had chosen a true crime book about bloody, violent murders and sexual assaults as my preferred "light" reading while my vacation drew to a close. Yikes. Turning into my mother was one thing, but this... I don't even know what this is.

Race Report: Snowman Stampede 10 miler

2011-02-22T06:11:00.005-07:00

The night before the race, Dan asked me what my goal was.
"Umm... ok well I want to do somewhere between 1:20 and 1:21 because that is my PR, but I did that this summer, when I was in much better shape... I don't think I could do that now.. but, maybe, it would be good if I could do like an 8:30 pace, I don't know..."
Dan cut me off.
"What is your goal for tomorrow? Give me a time."
Dan wasn't letting me wiggle away from this one. Nothing like a spouse to make you a better ~~person~~ runner. Dan listened to me basically talk to myself for a while... This one was a little tricky because Coach said to hold my pace at goal marathon pace, which is 8:24, but also to go easy for the first two miles... So in other words I was not supposed to go all out for this race, which was a tough concept for me to wrap my head around. Meanwhile, I wasn't sure that even if I went all out, I would be able to go faster than goal marathon pace, and this was really stressing me out... If I couldn't do a stupid 10 mile race at much faster than goal marathon pace, how would I ever run the marathon at my desired pace? But then again the race is not till May. I have over 2 months till then, and I will be at sea level... But then again, all the pace calculators say I should be doing a 5k in about 22:00 which I have never done... Was I setting myself up for failure with an overly ambitious goal? But why shouldn't I at least try. I was making myself crazy. I finally came up with a plan: Run the first two miles at about a 9:00 pace, then shoot for 8:24 for the rest of the race. This would give me an opportunity to work on getting used to my goal pace. Perfect-o. My super secret goal was to go faster than 1:25 but 1:25 was my official stated goal and the time I would be happy with.

Race day came and my tummy hurt a little, the most likely culprit the fateful habenero crock pot pork shoulder. I hoped it would go away. I got the the race venue with plenty of time, actually waaay too much time.. The race started at 10:15, registration started at 7:30 and the 5 miler started at 9:00. Unsure of when registration would shut down, I got there by 8:30 and breezed through registration by 8:45... Even with my three mile warm up I still had oodles of time, so I headed over to the nearest Starbucks, got an overpriced cup of peppermint tea and did some work on my laptop. This felt uber-efficient, a good start to the day.

At 9:40 I started my warm-up. My legs felt nice and bouncy, which was a good sign. Also, my stomach ache had gone away. YESSS!! I took a gel just before the start and then right on time, at 10:15 we were off. I started out at what I thought was a conservative pace. At the 1 mile mark I looked at my watch...8:30. A little quicker than I meant, but it seemed mostly downhill. I began to dread having to uphill to finish.... I slowed down a little. Still feeling relaxed, I checked my watch at mile 2- 8:39. At this point I had caught up with a couple of amusing guys and we were chatting a bit. They were talking about how people have a kid, their marriage starts to suck, and then they think having a second kid will galvanize the marriage but it only makes it worse. Up to then I only knew the word galvanize as in galvanized steel (the only reason I can even imagine I know this is that I am the daughter of a scrap metal dealer?)... But now I knew exactly what the word meant... Beside the depressing marriage talk, these guys were hilarious, but only for a few tenths of a mile because I had to get my butt in gear after the 2 mile mark, according to my plan. Peace out, homies... I picked it up a little but still felt pretty relaxed. This was a pace I thought I could hold for a while... At the third mile mark my split was 8:14. Ok this was good...a little too fast? As the course continued along the path of a creek (river? hard to say... water flowing in any case), I tried to determine which way the water was flowing, which was actually harder than it sounds. It was going the same direction as us, which made me think we must be going downhill and that was a little depressing, because the whole way back on this out and back course would be up, up, up... I could tell we had a headwind though... I was unsure whether that would compensate for the incline on the way back, but tried to focus on just running relaxed and thinking about now, for now. At mile four my watch read 8:20. As I approached the fifth mile mark (which was not actually the turnaround), I started to see more and more of the folks on their way back, which was a lot of fun. At mile 5 I saw 8:15... The turn around wasn't for maybe another half mile... When I got to it I looked at my watch and then tried to figure out if I would negative split, but realizing the turnaround was not actually the halfway point, I kept track of how long it took me to get from the turnaround to mile 5, and then I tried to subtract that from my time at the turnaround so I could know what my cumulative time was at mile 5, but for the life of me I could not do the math, and even now recalling what I was trying to do is confusing me. Finding myself useless with this real life math problem was good because I knew it meant I was working hard. I let the math problem go and found that although the effort was getting harder and harder, the tailwind was there. Or at least the headwind wasn't, and that was nice. Instead of trying to sprint up to someone bigger than me (eg, anyone) to try and draft, like I was doing on the way out, I was able to pick someone and just focus on gradually reeling them in. Going out a little conservatively is my preferred game plan for this reason. One by one, I was picking people off and still feeling good. I never saw the marker for mile 6 but my split for miles 5 and 6 combined was 16:08. Yay! Now it was getting much harder.. my breathing was louder, my legs were tired, but I reminded myself that it was a matter of three miles... less than 25 minutes at this rate, kid stuff... Keep going... At mile 8 my time was 8:16.. nice and consistent... I started thinking about the 9 mile mark and despite my hypoxia and aversion to math, unless there was some kind of disaster I knew I would come in well before 1:25... Double yay!!! At mile 9 I saw 8:13... Ok, just hang on till the finish. I saw a big guy running way ahead but I could see he was fading. I could catch him if I just kept on at this pace. I caught up to him with about half a mile to go. But when I got on his shoulder, he picked up the pace. When I tried to surge a little, he stayed right with me. This was nice. "Do you think...we can hold... this pace....till the finish?" It was hard to talk between breaths but I got it out eventually. He said he thought so. I didn't know his name but now he was my friend. As we turned toward the finish chute, there was a steep hill and he pulled ahead but I stayed closeby. I maybe could have gone faster but Coach said not to "go to the well" so I stayed out of the Might Puke Zone partly because she said to and partly because, lets face it, its easier. My split for the tenth and final mile ended up being 8:09, for a total time of 1:22:38, and an average pace of 8:17. I gave my new friend a high five at the finish line and shuffled around for a little over a mile for a cool down, very tired, but very pleased with how the race shaped up. The best part was my legs didn't even feel sore the next day, as opposed to feeling like someone beat them with a bat after my tempo run last week. Ok, 3:40 marathon, I mean business now. I am coming for you. May 1st. Providence.

Note to Self: learn to read

2011-02-20T18:13:00.006-07:00

On Friday morning I was so jazzed to start my day by putting a pork shoulder in the crock pot. My mom has been talking about this dish for weeks, about how easy it is, how the meat just falls off the bone, and that I have to try it, so I finally went to the supermarket, got myself a nice big piece of pork shoulder and started getting excited about the taste of tender pork. According to my mom, the way to do it is to put it in the crock pot with some loosely chopped onions and jar of barbecue sauce. And ps, that is barbecue with a "c." I thought it was a "q" and I could not figure out why spellcheck was calling me out... I guess you read BBQ so much you think the word must have a "q" it doesn't. Just fyi.... Anyway, according to the internet, it is best to first braise the pork and then make little slits and stuff it with garlic (I did this with brisket once and it was Fan-f*cking-tastic, and I rarely use the f word on my blog, so you know I am SERIOUS). The internet also talked about adding red wine, chicken broth and some other stuff, so I did a variation on everyone's recipe and did my own eclectic thing, with the braising, the garlic, onions, some wine, a little broth. It was also the perfect opportunity to use up the miscellaneous 5 oz. bottles of half empty barbecue sauce we have had in the pantry for practically ever. I poured it all in the crock pot, shut the lid, turned it to low, and went about my busy day with daydreams of tender pork intermittently penetrating my consciousness.

Evening came and I tasted my aromatic concoction to test for done-ness. No sooner had I swallowed it than my throat began to burn and my eyes smarted with tears. What the Hades!?
"Dan, taste this!!?"
Dan tasted it. I should say it was probably not very nice of me not to even warn him, considering Dan is more of a mild spicy person while I am more of a medium to very spicy person as far as our food preferences, but I was collecting data. Dan confirmed my findings. He sort of lurched his neck forward and opened his eyes wide as he swallowed.
"What did you do?"
"I don't know. Why is this so spicy!? Oh my god, I don't even know if we can eat this!"
"I was wondering why all the hot sauce bottles were empty."
I paused. What was Dan talking about?
"Hot sauce?? That was barbecue sauce!!"
Dan maintained it was hot sauce and that he likes to eat it on his eggs.
"But I've never seen you do that. I thought we never ate that stuff. What the hell? That is barbecue sauce!! I swear to God. If it's not barbecue sauce, why does it say "Barbecue Sauce" right on the label!???"
Dan said nothing but took one of the empty bottles and brought it up to my face. I read the words, stupefied.
"HARRY'S HABENERO HOT SAUCE!? ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME!? I THOUGHT THIS WAS BARBECUE SAUCE. JESUS H. CHRIST. I HAVE RUINED THIS MEAL!!!!"
I glared at Dan.
"How come you never told me that was hot sauce??"
Dan looked at me and paused for a moment. Slowly, he replied, "I guess I thought you would read the label."
I looked at him, disgusted.
"Are you seriously mad at me?"
"No. Ok yes, I was. But I shouldn't have been. I am just mad at the whole situation." Yes ok, I admit it. I admit it to the whole internet. I was mad at my husband because I added half a cup worth of hot sauce to the crock pot pork shoulder. I am both crazy and mean, the worst combination.

I added a cup of chicken broth, hoping it would dilute the mouth burning flavor, to no avail.
I thought serving it with a side of rice might neutralize the heat, but I was wrong there as well. It was indeed tender, but the only thing I could really taste was hot. I wouldn't say I am a foodie (no doy, right?) but even I know "hot" is not a flavor.

Sufficiently satiated for our date to the Boulder International Film Festival, which is actually special because that was where we went for our first date, we grabbed some minty gum as we left the house well in advance, knowing we would need to allow ample time to park, to wait in line, and to get toward the front of the line so I might be availed the opportunity to avoid sitting behind a tall person, which was what happened to me at the noontime showing of "The Firstgrader." I said it was a busy day, I didn't say I wasn't enjoying it.

We ran into our friends in line for the movie and because they were ahead of us, they said they'd save us seats. It seemed so perfect. As we neared the front of the line, Dan mentioned his stomach was hurting because of how spicy the pork was. Unlike our first date, I got totally defensive and I was like "How do you know that's why your stomach hurts? Maybe its because you ate too much of it." Which was wrong of me to say, on so many levels. The truth is, one bite of it was far too much and Dan was exceptionally kind to even give it a chance. Dan told me he knew it was because of the spicy factor because his stomach had never felt like this before. I followed our friends to the upper level of Boulder Theater and turned around and Dan was gone. I looked all around but I couldn't find him. And he didn't even have his phone. Did he go to the bathroom? Why would he go to the bathroom without at least mentioning it? He disappeared. I did another loop around the theater, a little bit frantic. I was getting pissed. Would it have killed him to tell me, "Hon, I am going to the men's room." What if he was not in the men's room? I needed to test out my movie seat and make sure no one too tall was sitting in front of me before it was too late to find a new seat. Where was he??

Finally he appeared.
"Where did you go!?" I asked, not warmly. Dan looked a little frazzled as he explained they wouldn't let him in because his ticket (the one I had printed online) was for the wrong movie and we were supposed to be at the church across the street for our movie. Why they scanned my ticket and let me in was a mystery, but obviously a mistake. He said he called me from some phone but my phone was off and they wouldn't let him in to find me until he gave them his drivers license for collateral.

What movie was this that we were in, I wanted to know. Why was this not "Into Eternity"? How could our movie be anywhere other than here? Dan assured me it did not matter, but that we needed to get our act together and go to the church so we could see the movie we actually had tickets for. We bade our friends a rushed goodbye, Dan got his license back, and we booked it over to the church.
"I can't believe it's at the church!" I cried, indignant.
"Pam, it says the location right on the ticket."
Indeed it did. Right on the ticket I had printed out an entire day ago. The ticket I could have read but didn't. This whole reading thing was turning out to be the bane of my existence. Instead of being mad at having to read I redirected my anger at Dan.
"I was so pissed that you just disappeared from me! I had no idea where you were."
"Pam, are you seriously mad at me?"
"Well... I was. But I'm not. No. I'm mad we are now not going to be early for this movie and I might have to sit behind someone tall again."

It turned out we had great seats, I was able to see fine in between the heads of the two people sitting directly in front of me, and the movie was depressing, but really good. Also, this time I knew what a documentary was (yes, there was a time when I didn't even know what a documentary was), which was definitely a plus.

Thank you Dan, for three awesome years, for being your awesome self and enjoying another BIFF movie with me and for discovering I have the capacity to be alternately crazy, angry, defensive, impatient, and illiterate all in one evening and for loving me anyway.

My Valentine's Day Retrospective

2011-02-13T20:10:00.003-07:00

Diaries of Valentines Days' gone by
*some names have been changed to protect the innocent

1982: I made a Valentime for my mom out of tissue paper hearts and it was so pretty. Also, when I came downstairs for breakfast, there was chocolate and a Valentimes card for me on the kitchen table.

1990: I had a Valentine's Day party in the basement. Adam DJ'ed. It was really fun even though Peter Blumberg came. He came up to me in school and he was like "I think there was an oversight because I was not invited to your party." Mom and Dad said I had to invite him even though he is a total dork. It wasn't that bad though. We played Spin the Bottle. No one really did anything though. Like no one french kissed. I kind of have a crush on Jeremy but Jen likes him too. Seth asked me out in Social Studies last week. He passed me a note and it said "Will you go out with me?" and I waited but only for like five minutes and I wrote him back and I was like "Sorry, no." How come no one I like likes me??????? I will NEVER have a boyfriend:(

1995: Andrew sent me a Valentine. It was hand made, out of construction paper and I think a doily or something. It was super cute. But I don't know if I like him anymore. I took the Valentine to the Dunkin Donuts on Thayer Street to show Wendy and Jessica. We always go there and order half coffee/half hot chocolate. Anyway, he wrote me this long letter, and he said he misses me and stuff. I might break up with him when I see him during spring break, the whole thing kind of freaked me out. Mom thinks I am going to fail my driver's ed test because I am really bad at parking. I keep on telling her she is being really mean and picky about my driving but I really might fail. I can park in a regular parking spot or the driveway but parking against a sidewalk is super hard.

1998: This guy I met at a party asked me to go ice skating for Valentine's Day. I don't really even remember what he looks like. He got my number from this guy in his fraternity who is dating Jennie B. who is in my sorority, who after the fact was like "I hope its ok that I gave out your number." That is so Jennie B. What does that mean, a first date on Valentine's Day? On my machine, he was like "I wanted to see if you wanted to hang out on Friday night." Hang out. So not "go out." Which means this is not a date? And also does he not know Friday is Valentine's Day? How can he not know that?? It sounds like a date. But even when I called him back, he was all casual about it. What the hell!? I am just going to act like its a date. I will bring money just in case, obviously, but he better pay for my ice skate rentals.

1999: For Valentine's Day, I gave Dave this super-cute framed photo of us from my sorority semi-formal. He gave me a bobby pin with this rhinestone encrusted beetle on it. Seriously? Does he even know me? I think his mom picked it out, I really do. I am so pissed. I should break up with him. Not because of the stupid bobby pin, but just in general. He doesn't even understand me, at all. Seriously I don't know why I am with him. I don't even wear bobby pins!!! Ever!!!

2001: James took me to Jimmy V's, this fancy place in Raleigh for Valentine's Day. I ordered the roast chicken. I didn't want to eat anything too heavy because my first marathon is in THREE DAYS. THREE DAYS!? Oh MY GOD. It is really truly almost here. I am going to run A WHOLE FREAKING MARATHON. I feel like I have been training for this forever and now it is finally about to happen. Holy shit. Seriously, though, I would have gotten dessert but James wasn't ordering any (I am actually pretty sure he has some major stomach issues) and I thought it would be weird if I got the dessert and he didn't. The flourless chocolate torte sounded so good.

2003: Valentines Day is the worst holiday in the whole world. Me and Natalie went out and this adorable guy was hitting on her the whole night and no guys talked to me at all. I only had a tangerine and a veggie burger for dinner and then I drank too much and I got sick at the Orange County Social Club and also on the way home in Suzie's car. I want to die I am so hung over.

2004: OMG. Chris announced like in front of the whole Tarwheels group ride basically that we are dating. I wanted to DIE. I didn't even think we were dating at this point because I told him about this blind date I had coming up (with the Jewish doctor guy Kim is setting me up with) and how I wanted to be open to it, because this guy is about my age, and he has a job, and all this stuff, and Chris was super sad but I was like whatever its for the best, and then we got in this huge ginormous fight and afterward I was really upset because he was really upset and then I was up late crying and I was freaking out about the blind date because my eyes were going to be all puffy and I was going to look gross and I talked to Dad on the phone and he was like "I don't care what you do, leave work early and take a nap if you have to, but if you don't go out with this Jewish doctor, I will fly down and go out with him for you, so make it happen." Anyways, I went out with him (my eyes ended up looking normal) and he obviously liked me because he took me to the Carolina-Duke game for our next date, (which he was supposed to take his brother to, but he gave me the ticket instead). I was totally flattered, but then it was weird because we lost big time, and he was acting really psycho about it, and then I never heard from him again. But its not like I want to get back together with Chris, except then he showed up for the ride and he gave me this fancy chocolate bar and a card and a huge hug in front of everyone and I just wanted to die. So now the whole world thinks we are dating and I don't want to be dating him!!!! But I don't have the energy to break up with him AGAIN. Christ. Why is my life so exhausting??

2005: Dad got me the Pella rollscreen door I have had my eye on for Valentine's Day because he said sending flowers on Valentine's Day is such a waste of money. This door is amazing. All you do is push a button and its a screen door. Then push a button and its a storm door. Amazing.

2008: I went to this Anti-Valentine's Day party at Conor O'Neill's and I met THE BEST GUY. I told him I had just moved here and I didn't know hardly anyone but that I would soon (probably) and I liked to set people up and so I needed to know his type. He said his type was smart, kind, funny, loves the outdoors and beautiful. He also said he was 31 and a software developer and that he has his own business. I was like, "I know a girl for you... me!" And then we hung out the whole night. I seriously cannot wait another minute for him to call me. This is killing me.

2009: I got my nails done just in case Dan was planning to propose to me on Valentine's Day. He texted me January 25th and asked my ring size so it was not out of the question. Anyways, still no ring. What is he waiting for???

To Everyone: Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Irony

2011-02-10T21:38:00.005-07:00

Do you remember that scene in "Reality Bites" when Winona Ryder is interviewing for a job and the stodgy old lady in the fancy office asks her to define irony and she can't think of anything good to say, and then the elevator closes in her face and she is miserable because she doesn't get the job? I love that scene. I love that whole movie. I especially love the part when Winona Ryder and Janeane Garafolo are dancing to "My Sharona." It just makes me want to dance! But I am digressing... I was thinking of Winona Ryder and irony when I was laying in bed being sick this weekend, in between episodes of The Office, when I was supposed to be in Denver running a 5k.

Ever since the official start of flu season, I have been wearing a surgical mask when I work at the hospital. Yes, just like the hunting season and the winter season, there is an official start date of flu season, and I know this because it is the day I had to start wearing said mask, per hospital dictum. PS, dictum means the same thing as mandate or order, I just happened to really enjoy using it in a sentence just then. Anyway, the surgical mask has inspired a lot of things, and not just my sense that my patients tend to pay closer attention when I walk in the room, which I think is because they at first regard me as someone "important", like a surgeon maybe. My wearing of this mask, beside provoking a really hot, sweaty, claustrophobic feeling, the unpredictable fogging of my glasses, and the misery of not being able to spontaneously take a sip of coffee while I am charting, has also elicited the question, "Why are you wearing a mask?" I can count on one hand the other employees who are part of the exclusive Nu Phi Sigma (No Phlu Shot) fraternity, so it is a reasonable thing to ask. The simple answer is that I declined the flu shot, and the hospital gave the "option" of getting the vaccine or wearing the mask for the duration of the flu season, which is officially from December 1 to April 1. The longer answer depends on to whom I am speaking. It includes repeated utterances of this phrase, growing louder with every refrain, sometimes followed by exaggerated hand gestures indicating "No" and "Flu Shot" (my hands waving in front of me, as if in an "X," then miming the motion of injecting a syringe into my arm) if I am trying to explain it to a geriatric, hard of hearing patient who now has the added challenge of having zero opportunity to read my lips. If I am talking to a co-worker, I might talk in a little greater detail about how I've never had the flu before, never gotten the flu shot, and was not comfortable with the risks, however small, of actually getting the flu, or much worse, Guillan Barre (a debilitating neurological condition), both of which are proven to be associated with the flu shot itself.

And then BAM, as if the universe were peering down at me going "How's that for irony!?", I ended up in bed with what could only be the flu after spending virtually all winter touting my own perfect immune systems. Curses!

Fashion show!

2011-02-04T11:00:00.008-07:00

I went through a period when I first moved to Boulder in 2008 when I was more or less over shopping. I decided that new stuff doesn't really make you happy. You do feel a rush, but its fleeting, and then when it subsides all you want is more stuff, and it happens all over again. I think this is true. Mostly.

Here is some background on how I got to this philosophy- When I say I was over shopping, I mean broke. What had happened, in a nutshell, was I really wanted to move to here. I wanted to move here so badly I cooked up a little plan and made it happen even though I didn't really have a solid job or know anyone except a guy I had made friends with on vacation and not really kept in touch with, who was married with two children, and there was also my college roommate and one time BFF, except she was tucked up in the mountains, about an hour away, on an ashram... With a couple of sort of friends and a sort of job waiting for me, I packed up my Jetta and came out.

The job fell through entirely. I met Dan. I was crazy about him (still am), he was crazy about me (still is, I think). I had no choice but to stay. My income was, let us say, not steady. My spending habits on the other hand were pretty robust. The concept of waiting for something I needed (well if I wanted it, I needed it, right?) was not one with which I was familiar. Also, I (falsely) assumed I would get things right soon enough. Except I didn't. But then I was in a pickle... Because any number of full-time cool jobs in my profession were available in abundance... everywhere but within a 50 mile radius of me. And my sweetie was right here. My only choice: Let Dan show me how to use Excel, make a budget, and use it. And so the era of Pam Starts to Spend Money More Wisely was born. Random cute hats in the sale bin at Sports Authority were a thing of the past. Shiny lip glosses that I had to buy because they were in a basket by the register and and had the vanilla scent I craved were no longer. Every espresso drink was now purchased (if purchased at all) with some forethought. I didn't pop into any cute boutique just because I happened to be walking by. We all know how innocent browsing can turn into dropping $200 in the blink of an eye. And suddenly, my finances weren't looking so bad. Even better, instead of my money being some amorphous blob, I was in control of it! I knew how much I had, where it came from, and how and where I was spending it. Where I'd previously thought planning out my money would only be a burden, the opposite became true; I was liberated by being conscious about my money. Who would have thought!? And ps, don't blame my parents for the fact that I did not learn this earlier. When I was in the second grade, all I wanted was a pair of gray suede boots with fringes. My mom thought they were unnecessary so she made me save up my allowance. I still remember how awesome it felt to stand at the counter at Sears (the one in Pawtucket that everyone still uses as a landmark even though it hasn't been there for over 20 years), after waiting what felt like forever, and hand the clerk my twenty dollars, in single dollar bills, one at a time. He had to come around and stand next to me because I was too short to hand him the money over the counter. So it's not like I didn't know how good it felt to save up for something, I just re-priortized when I had enough money to not have to wait. And then I had a hard time making the shift when my job fell apart.

But anyway, that really isn't the point of this post. The point is, I have to admit it, even though I am liberated and conscious, and all that stuff, I do love me some shopping!! I do, I really do! There, I said it. And again, I find myself in a pickle. (Oh why is my life so HARD. ha ha.) The situation is I am going to Las Vegas to celebrate the last of my dear little sister's days as a single woman. But I am 32 and my "going out" clothes, if you can even call them that are "Boulder going out clothes" which if you live here, you know what I mean. The thing is, up to last night, I had NOTHING to wear that would be considered appropriate Las Vegas Party Attire. Ok, not nothing. I had so much fun a couple months ago using a gift card at Nieman Marcus.. Someone (no one you know, don't ask who) got us something (just something, ok. not relevant to the story) from that store for our wedding and it had to be returned... Unfortunately there was nothing there Dan would have liked so I had to spend the store credit on... ME! And I ended up with the hottest purple backless dress from Alice and Olivia, which is apparently some fancy designer that I was not aware of until my fashionista BFF (not the one on the ashram, a different one, and anyone who says you can't have more than one best friend, I say you are wrong because I have three) got all hyper when she heard about it and then said "I hate you!" which is the highest compliment in this scenario. Ok so to restate, I had exactly one thing to wear for partying in Vegas, but we would be there for three nights. You don't need an Excel spreadsheet to know this was not enough. Oh and ps, I haven't used the word "party" as a verb seriously in like ten years. So I took my good friend and trusted fashion advisor on an expedition to Forever 21. And no I don't have a problem with shopping at Forever 21, even though its been eleven years since I was 21, although the music in there is kind of loud for me. If I had my druthers we would have gone to Anthroplogie but, lets face it, I would have only been able to afford one thing there.

We (I) made an unbelievable mini-landfill sized mountain of clothes on the dressing room floor, but when all was said and done, I got some great new Vegas-worthy stuff. And it should not interfere with my drinks/entertainment budget:) Does it interfere with my thoughts on buying stuff that was made in China? Yes a little. But not enough to not buy it. You can see this zebra print dress on me, below. You can't tell from the photo but it is scandalously short. And comfortable! I know because I tried it on for Dan last night but then I didn't want to take it off so I ended up just ~~prancing around in it~~ wearing it for the rest of the night.

I also got a cute black one shoulder top:
This will go with my new short black shorts (not pictured) and heels OR jeggings and heels. It's hard to tell how cute and flouncy the little flower applique on the shoulder is here, but it is very cute.

Also, this was not for Vegas, but I loved it. I imagine I will wear it to brunch on the patio at The Kitchen this spring. Or else to work (more likely).

This one is hard to photograph, but maybe you get the idea? The skirt is knee length and kind of flirty. It has a little sash, too. Also, the pink top I am wearing in the top pic is something I also could not resist even though its not for Vegas.

And so concludes my first online fashion show. We will return to the usual tales of running, biking, swimming, and generally stupid/weird things I've done/that happen to me next time.

It's happening

2011-02-02T20:32:00.005-07:00

I have made a few observations regarding myself of late that... concern me.

#1) A couple of weeks ago, Dan asked me about a laundry basket in the corner of our room that was about three quarters full. "What is this doing here?" I explained it was a load of clothes that I was getting ready to put in the wash. Then I watched as he casually dropped a green t-shirt into the basket.
"What are you doing? That is a load of blacks. Save that t-shirt for the next load, I am doing colors soon."
He looked at me as if I had just told him I going to save water and run a load of wash in cat piss instead.
"Seriously, Pam?"
"What?"
"Does it really matter if the blacks are with the blacks? You used to just throw in a load of whatever whenever we had enough for a full laundry basket. You never even separated lights and darks. What is this all about?"
He never used to eat raw daicon radishes, but that's a whole other story.
"I just think the colors will stay brighter if we wash similar colors together."
Dan shook his head and I proceeded with my load of blacks, then I collected a load of brights, and finally load of sheets and towels. I silently wondered when I had become my mother, the original laundry Nazi, demanding that denims go together, reds and pinks go together, etc, leaving you to wonder if you unwittingly threw a favorite yellow t-shirt in the hamper, whether you'd be able to wear it again in the next eight to ten weeks, should it take that long for a full load of yellows and oranges to accumulate, finally granting them admission to the washing machine.

#2) Tuesday, I was on my way to the gym before work when I finally got sick of looking at this little stain in our toilet bowl. You would think a person would get used to it, but I haven't. It's not a major thing, its a light gray spot in right at the base of the bowl, where the bowl borders the hole where all the water flushes. I always think the cleaning lady will get it but she never does, which is weird because she does such a thorough job with everything else. And so the interplay of factors including a subtle desire to procrastinate the workout, an overt desire to avoid going outside in sub-zero degrees, and what had become a chronic irritation with the Gray Spot led to the Perfect Storm; In the moments just before dawn while Dan slept soundly, I scrubbed the mark with the enthusiasm of a monkey on crack. Vigorously, I applied pressure to the scrubby from a variety of angles, all to no avail. My patience wore thin as I continued to pump the scrubby up and down at a perpendicular angle to the bowl, then again at a 45 degree angle to the bowl, and then repeated the sequence again. I was beginning to understand why our cleaning lady had never gotten the bowl 100% clean. It occurred to me I might be better off getting in there with some bleach and an old toothbrush when suddenly I was lunging forward, my face headed directly for the bowl. I righted my balance just inches before my nose was submerged in the water. I hadn't realized I was putting nearly all of my body weight into my endeavor until my equilibrium was suddenly altered by the stick of my toilet scrub breaking cleanly in half.
"Damn it!" I cried.
"What?" Dan called from the bedroom.
"Nothing. I just broke our toilet brush trying to clean the toilet."
Did I really just say that? How did this happen to me? When did I become someone who would exert violent force on a cleaning instrument? We weren't even anticipating company. I am at heart, a total slob. My mom is the neat freak. I take after my dad! I didn't even know myself anymore. Worse, I was pondering this fact without even having had so much as a sip of coffee yet. Also, my heart was heavy with disappointment that I had broken this particular scrubby, because of its sentimental value, which sounds ridiculous, but its true. What happened was, I put it on our wedding gift registry at the last minute, and it was given to us by my best friend's in-laws, which was just so sweet because they weren't even invited to our wedding, and actually I have not seen them since my best friend's wedding, which was in 2005, but apparently, I made a really good impression on my friend's mother-in-law, who apparently asks after me often, and who was kind enough to think of me and Dan and buy us the matching toilet brush and garbage can from our registry, even though she had not seen or heard from me in five years. So you can see why I was touched by the gesture.

#3) I have developed a habit of taking Dan's coat from the living room chair and hanging it on a hanger in the coat closet. Sometimes I wonder when I started caring where other people left their stuff. Because really, when I think about all the cool things I could have done with my life, all the degrees I might have earned, all the books and short stories I could have written, all the pies and cakes I could have baked, the African children I could have adopted and cared for, had I only not wasted all the hours I have spent over the years looking for my keys/wallet/purse/the library books I meant to return on time/my lunch/my jacket/the sweater I was dying to wear/whatever because I had misplaced them or because they were obscured by a mountain of other stuff that I never bothered to put away, well, it really is just pathetic. And sometimes I think about the shrill tone of my mom's yell ca. 1995, to which sometimes I would yell back "What?" and just as often pretend as if I did not hear her, knowing her next cry would be "You left your shoes in the den! Take them upstairs or you will find them in the garage!" In my room, I would roll my eyes, knowing she would never actually make good on her threat, wondering why she didn't have something better to do than get pissy about my shoes.

#4) I finally changed my last name. I got my new drivers license, new social security card, new ID badge at work, new ATM card, the whole megillah. What really thrills me about taking Dan's last name is that now I can use Sinel as my middle name. I never had a middle name before, but I always wanted one. My dad is fond of saying he and my mom couldn't afford middle names for us back when we were little. I used to act like I didn't believe him and I knew he was just kidding, but I actually wasn't sure for a long time. (I believed in Santa till I was like ten and he didn't even come to our house). Anyway, its been kind of an adjustment to a new signature. The worst part is making the cursive "r" in Moore and making sure it doesn't come out looking like an "n." The best part is the flourish with which I sign my middle initial, "S." (I love having a middle initial!!) It took me a few times to realize, I had done this before. Then it all came rushing back to me... I used to forge my mom's signature in middle school, which has a big old "S" as the middle initial. For the life of me, I have no earthly idea why I would have done that. Despite having been a snot (see above), I was actually a pretty good kid. I got good grades, I was rarely absent, never tardy, and always turned in my homework on time, and except for math, mostly correct, so why I was pretending I was my mother doesn't make any sense to me now. But what I remember was the fun I had with signing her middle initial, which also happens to be an "S." The curves and swirls of "S" were a roller coaster for my pen.

What this all means is that I think (fear- no not really fear, I love you, Mom, but well, yes, maybe fear a little, but in a good way) is that what this all adds up to is that I am turning into my mother. Stay tuned. Other signs to watch for include steam cleaning the kitchen counter and adopting a stray chihuahua mutt. (The latter of which is actually my secret dream).

A Chinese-less Christmas

2010-12-25T21:43:00.003-07:00

As I sat in church last night, I peeked around at my fellow churchgoers and wondered to myself whether I was the only one who didn't belong. I never imagined I'd be anywhere but a Chinese restaurant on Christmas eve. What else would be open, anyway? My plan all along was to marry a jewish doctor, after all. But the universe had other plans for me. I married the love of my life and along with him came his wonderful family. And that is how I ended up at church.

Never say never.

Merry Christmas!

Back

2010-12-23T20:50:00.002-07:00

I'm back... I wasn't just being a lazy blogger although that would be a reasonable assumption. Dan and I went to Costa Rica for most of December as our honeymoon... We were gone so long I came home and couldn't remember where I'd left my laptop and my i pad. When I found the former, there was a dead bug stuck in it. Ew. I still have lots of emails to go through and piles of laundry to do but for now I'm just going to update my blog, as part of my ritual Returning From Vacation New and Improved Self Project that will normally last anywhere from 1 to 10 days following a vacation of a week or longer. Which by the way, if you have never had the chance to leave your regular life for more than a week at a time, to just go somewhere where you can turn off your phone, not get on the internet, and let your days revolve around meals, happy hour, surfing lessons, zip line tours, raft trips, and the like, you should definitely do it.

Anyways, my typical post-vacation Self-Improvement Project usually sparks from my profound realization that on vacation I am far less likely to freak out about dumb things (ie why is our waitress slow, f-ing traffic, annoying people in coffee shops with especially loud voices but really bad attitudes and boring long-winded stories, etc), far more likely to be enjoying the present moment instead of trying to do eighty things at once or doing one thing but thinking about all the other crap I still haven't done yet, and overall I am much more like the person I would like to be... easygoing (easygoing-ish, that is. it's all relative), somewhat more patient, overall a more rested, happy version of myself. So I invariably resolve that when I get home I will do these things:
1- Turn phone off once in a while
2- Not check email obsessively. After all I did not look at it once in over 2 weeks and I never missed it.
3- Not check blogs so much (See number 2). Especially when supposed to be working.
4- Not hurry so much
5- Sleep more
6- Calm down in general, slow down and realize everything is not a big deal. In fact, hardly anything is.

Those are the basic aspects of my Self-Improvement Plan. In addition to the perpetual challenge which I face every day, to stop pressing snooze (so much).

So now I am back. I am faced with the challenges of trying to be do the above listed things. I also need to decide whether I want to train for and run the Providence Marathon on May 1 or not. If I am going to do it I need to start training soon. If I do it, the goal is 3:40 or die trying. Ok, not die, that it extreme. (See #6, above). But when I think of running another marathon, I am alternately excited about the prospects of being in great shape again, and of shaving some time off my previous PR (3:55 if anyone cares) and then being turned off by the inevitable early morning runs that make you feel so good (when they are done) yet are only begun by getting out of bed at an an ungodly hour (note chronic snooze button problem and general hatred of waking up, as noted above). And I have been toying with the idea of committing to a Crossfit club for a few months, instead of training for the marathon, just to try something different. The idea of doing nothing in particular has of course crossed my mind (ie the fitness regimen to which I currently subscribe however I use the term regimen loosely). This would mean doing whatever I felt like doing on any given day for a workout, but its hard for me to stay motivated without a goal and without motivation to improve my fitness, I feel sort of unsettled, for lack of a better word, and I really don't like that. Of course I am motivated to some extent by the fact that I enjoy exercise for its own sake, for the social aspects it provides, for the stress relief, and obviously the damage control factor, as far as counterbalancing the ill effects of my less than ideal diet.... But there is nothing like the knowledge that every single workout is money in the bank that I am going to need to withdraw on race day to light a fire under my ass and push me out the door on cold dark mornings. I am leaning more toward the marathon as I write this... the jury is still out though. Any thoughts?

Race Report: Greencastle Turkey Trot 5k

2010-11-28T16:18:00.003-07:00

What began as a mass of family members (and by "mass" I mean five persons: my cousin, my husband, my sister, a half-hearted commitment from my mother, and myself) excited by the prospect of running and/or walking a 5k on Thanksgiving Day, gradually morphed into a cornucopia of excuses and flat-out refusals by the time race day came. My cousin was the first to commit but also the first to bail. Wednesday afternoon, she realized her evening plans to enjoy few cocktails with her friends would interfere with her ability to rise before 10am, so she changed her RSVP to "no" before we even had dinner. My mom maintained she had never committed in the first place and she had no interest in walking 3 miles, no not even with the dog. Brushing our teeth together before bedtime, my sister gave a litany of reasons why it would not work, including but not limited to: her IT band was hurting, she had not trained to run in cold weather and her toes were sure to become unacceptably numb/cold, actually she had not trained at all, and mainly she just didn't want to do it. Dan was still willing when we went to bed, but when morning brought huge drops of rain, he changed his mind. His stated reason was something about having only a cotton top to wear. When I saw my uncle putting out sliced grapefruit, bagels, cream cheese, lox, and coffee, I changed my mind too. Why would I run a 5k in the rain when I could be relaxing with my family? At the last minute, I realized I would regret it if I bailed on the race I had been looking forward to, and so I got changed, ate my instant oatmeal and headed out for the 7th annual Greencastle, Pennsylvania 5k Turkey Trot.

I hadn't been training much at all, as far as running, but I had been at the gym lately, doing the elliptical, some strength training, or whatever random class I felt like going to, so while I was not totally out of shape, I didn't think I was in particularly good running shape, either. I did a quick 15 minute warm-up and my legs felt good, and I was encouraged by this. I lined up toward the front. Despite the dreary weather, the race had a good turn-out of about 300 people of all ages. They seemed to all know each other, as the race was held in a rural town with a population of less than 5000. When the gun went off, I spotted a couple of ladies in front of me. They were about 10 meters ahead of me and for some reason I just didn't think they should be running faster than me. One was wearing a pink sweatsuit and seemed to be about 35-40 and the other seemed to be 20 or 40, I really couldn't tell from the back. I thought if I paced it right, I could pass them later. I hit the first mile mark in 10:15, supposedly. I didn't set my watch, but I knew this was totally inaccurate as the volunteer called it out. I spent the first part of the second mile running with two boys. One was about 12 or 13 and he was obviously breathing much harder than I was, but I hoped he could hold the pace we had set because he was helping me stay motivated. After a half mile or so he faded. I encouraged him to stay with me, to no avail. I approached a little kid who was probably no older than eight. I had noticed he shot off the front early in the race. When I caught up to him, he bolted ahead, but I caught him shortly. He dropped back, and then sprinted up to me, and stayed with me for a minute or so, then dropped back again. He repeated this pattern about 5 times, then I never saw him again. I missed him a little because he was motivating and entertaining, but I refocused my energy on a pack of people ahead of me. There were about 15 meters between me and them. I focused on closing the gap between us, little by little. In that group lay my nemesis, the lady of unknown age. Just ahead ran the lady in the pink outfit. When we hit the second mile mark, the volunteer called out 14:40. This seemed accurate. I had a little over a mile to make my pass. I maintained my pace and waited for them to get tired, knowing it was not yet time to run as hard as possible. Toward the last little bit there was a hill, and I passed both ladies just after the crest. We turned for the final stretch and unknown age lady caught tried to catch back up to me. I could hear her breathing right behind me and I gave it all I had not to let her pass me back. I felt like throwing up. This felt like the longest 5k of my life. I crossed the finish line and felt relieved that I could stop now. There was no time clock. I didn't know what I had done, but I felt that I had given it my full effort. I did a cool down and waited for them to post the results. I was having major FOMO (fear of missing out), knowing my family was eating bagels, drinking coffee, and having fun without me, but I was also desperate to know if I had won anything and to find out what my time was. I killed time for about 20 minutes at then gave up on waiting for the results and went back to my aunt and uncles.' I checked the results later and found out I had run exactly 23:00 (7:25/mile pace) which was good for 3rd in the 30-39 age group. Yeah!

Diary of a Sherpa

2010-11-22T20:38:00.008-07:00

October 15, 2010: My old friend and training partner Michelle's husband is not going to be able to support her at Ironman Arizona. She isn't sure if her sister is going to be able to fly out and her mom definitely can't. I think it would be good if I went. I can't stand to think of her walking over to the transition area all by her lonesome to start the race before sunrise, and walking over to no one in particular after she finishes sometime after dark. That just is not cool. She would do it for me if the tables were turned. I wonder if Dan will mind if I spend the weekend in Arizona. It shouldn't be expensive to fly from Denver to Phoenix.

October 19th, 2010: I booked my ticket! I am going to be an ironsherpa! I am going to start collecting data on how best to prepare for a long day of spectating. I have never done this before.

October 21st, 2010: Dan says to bring a book. Lizzy said it is best to grill out, make a tailgate party out of it and people watch. I will at least bring snacks and maybe a magazine. I will definitely bring a cowbell.

October 22nd, 2010: It turns out Michelle's sister will be able to come after all. I think we are really going to get to know each other. I hope we like each other.

November 18th, 2010: I was on the way out for drinks to celebrate my birthday. I took my bike because it would have been bad to walk in my cute yet uncomfortable boots. They were really bad to bike in also:( The soles were so slippery I could barely keep my feet on the pedals. I got a little overconfident right when I was in the parking lot and when my phone rang I went to fish it out of my backpack. Then I lost my balance and I totally bit the pavement. Luckily my phone is fine and my jeggings weren't ripped at all but I have a cut on my left thumb and I broke a nail, which hurt. I have some major bruising on my left thigh as well. I hope this doesn't interfere with my stamina for Sunday. I want to be in top form for the race.

November 19th, 2010: I am a little hung over today but I think I will be ready to manage whatever the big day brings. My flight was uneventful, and I met Michelle, and her sister and some other gals at a restaurant in Tempe. I can tell they are a good group of ladies and we are going to have fun. Yolanda, the shuttle driver was awesome for dropping me off straight to the restaurant and taking my bag to the hotel for me. I gave her a nice tip because I was a little nervous about what if she messed up and my bag didn't get to the front desk of the hotel after all. It did though. We went to the athlete information meeting straight from dinner. I listened but I also daydreamed and people watched. After all, I was not the one doing the ironman. What a relief. Dan said I better not sign up for Ironman Arizona 2011 on Monday. I said I wouldn't. Probably.

November 20th, 2010: Michelle is nervous, but not any more than I probably would be if it were my ironman. Her sister and I made signs at the Inspiration Station. It is nice that Ironman gives the athletes' friends and family all the supplies for make encouraging signs to hold and to post on the course. Then again, for an entry fee of $550 I think they should should also give you filet mignon at the aid stations, or at least not recruit volunteers (read: slaves) to hand out sports drinks and rack the bike that you probably peed, snotted, and spat on, considering WTC (World Triathlon Corporation) is a multi-million dollar for profit company, but no one asked me. My sign had Michelle's full name and bib number in the colors of her race outfit (yellow and green), the web address of her coaching business (why not give her some free advertising?), and the words "Move your pig butt faster!" I believe in tough love. Michelle's sister and I went for a run while Michelle was at another race meeting. We would not have had another chance to run if we'd waited, because the rest of the day was spent running around, dropping off bikes, bags, making lists, checking them twice, and basically getting every detail totally nailed down before dinner, which we had a 5 pm reservation for. In addition to all the race-specific stuff Michelle needed to do, I knew it was important that I also be prepared for race day. At the drugstore, her sister and I stocked up on fuel, like Sun Chips, and little six packs of wine. I even got some pink wine (White Zinfandel). My good friend Alyssa told me back in college when I didn't really know anything about wine except that I liked Manischevitz (not much has changed, actually) that white zin "is not really wine" which was not only a dig on the wine but also on the giver of the wine, which was my boyfriend at the time, who was I guess not that sophisticated but then again, he was only like 22, so it wasn't his fault. Anyway, I always think of Alyssa's voice saying pink wine is "not really wine" whenever I see it, so I thought it was the perfect thing to be drinking if in case I ended up opening it before noon. Except for the very occasional mimosa I don't drink before noon. Anyway, we also got a cheap-o styrofoam cooler, and at the last minute I picked out a Nivea chapstick, a copy of People magazine and a Hershey's special dark for just in case. For my pre-race dinner I ordered a glass of red wine and lobster and shrimp tacos. Yum.

Sunday, November 21st: The alarm went off and I kept sleeping! I got up at about 4:50 am. At 5:06 I went down for breakfast at the hotel. By 5:20 we were en route to the transition area, with all our food, camp chairs, and beverages in hand. By 6:20 I knew I would not be able to make it through the day without coffee, STAT. I booked it to Starbucks and ordered pumpkin spice lattes for both myself and Michelle's sister. The day was starting feel manageable. I got back just before the gun went off for the amateur start at 7am. They played some Coldplay song just before the start and I got a little choked up, I am not sure why. I used to think I just got emotional before races because I was excited or nervous or happy or just vehrklempt but now I think maybe I am just a crybaby. Anyway, it was interesting to find I don't actually have to do an ironman myself to feel this way. Even so, I was kind of thinking maybe I would do another one someday. Michelle came out of the water right around the time she said she would and we were cheering like crazy. Then we booked it over to the "Bike Out" area and got to see her start her bike ride. She looked happy. We had about 2 hours and ten minutes until we would see her again, because each of the three bike loops was about 37 miles long. We hung out for a while, and met up with some other friends, and spent a good chunk of the morning brainstorming ideas for a new game show, because one of the guys we were hanging out with is in the game show host profession. When he gave me his business card, all I could think was "Zoolander!" because of the picture he put on it but I didn't say anything because I didn't want to hurt his feelings in case he didn't think that was funny. But then he said "Blue Steel, right?" and I knew he was cool. The game show ideas flowed with increasing ease once we got into the alcohol. My cheering also grew more enthusiastic as I sipped my pink wine from a styrofoam cup. Let me tell you, its not easy to cheer for a person on bike while they whiz by at 16-25 miles per hour. My strategy was to isolate an identifying feature and emphasize it. ie) "Go BEARD!!!! Guy with a BEARD!!!! YEAH!!!" Some athletes got a kick out of this. Most did not notice or did not care. Anyway, the bike went along basically like that, and there were a few false alarms which got us all cheering like crazy for someone who wasn't Michelle, but that was kind of like a fire drill; it just prepared us better for when it was actually her. After a late lunch, we were at it again. I fell down on the job a little when I went over to the finish area to see some of the pros finish, which unfortunately caused me to miss Michelle on her final loop of the bike. We repositioned ourselves and our cooler on the run course. By now it was close to 4pm. I was getting cold and my feet really hurt. I introduced a Diet Coke into my fuel plan, which definitely helped. I tried to stay positive, cheering for nearly every runner that went past. I held out my generic "Go, Slacker! (yeah, you!)" and "Go Hot Stuff (yeah, you!)" signs but no one seemed to find them nearly as entertaining as I did. Also they were hard to manage with all the wind. I switched to my "If it were easy everyone would be doing it" sign which was only marginally more appealing to the runners, who looked more like zombies for the most part. I am not kidding you, this was the most miserable group of people I'd ever seen. Only about 1 out of every 10 people even looked up or gave me so much as a half wave or smile when I directed a cheer or an encouraging word at them. I have to say, I know what its like to feel that bad, I really do, but I always would at least give a mini-wave or try and smile at someone who said something nice to me at this point in the ironman. Why were these people not trying to utilize the free energy I was trying to give them? And ps why were they not the least bit excited about being just hours or minutes from realizing what I am assuming was their dream/goal? Anyway, our Michelle looked strong and smiled every time she ran past us, and she was right on top of her goal pace. She was doing awesome!! At about the 12 hour mark, we headed over to the finish chute. Here I found a vortex of positive energy. Perhaps there are only so many good vibes to go around on an ironman course and 99.5% of them were concentrated right here in this 30 meter area flanked by bleachers? Because people were going absolutely nuts! The cowbell ringing was non-stop, the high fives were slapping, husbands and wives were kissing, fists were in the air, and the atmosphere felt literally electrified. I had a stupid grin on my face for an hour straight. My face had not hurt that much from smiling since our wedding. Now I remembered why after watching Ironman Lake Placid in 2006 I had to sign up. I still don't need to do another ironman, though. Anyway, Michelle ran through in just a hair over 13 hours, and she was elated! And so was I, for soon I would have an opportunity to sit down. Seriously, it was very exciting to watch her finish so strong and so happy, having executed her race PERFECTLY. After we found her near the finish line, she gave us a the full scoop, then we eventually went back to the hotel and ordered a pizza which came 2 hours later, don't even get me started on that. How hard is it to deliver a pizza? Anyway, as I said, I am not getting started with that. It ended up being free. Seriously, I am not discussing the pizza anymore. It was actually pretty good. Enough on the pizza. Anyway, I was so tired, I didn't even read any of my Ann Rule novel before bed, which is saying a lot, because I am pretty much addicted to it right now.

Monday, November 22nd: It's all over. I got up at 8:30, having declined the chance to head over the the finisher merchandise tent at 6am. After breakfast, we dropped off the bike with Tri Bike Transport, I found Michelle's special needs bags... we talked some more about the race, and about all kinds of different stuff... Dan is always wanting to know what women talk about so much and I guess I don't really know but there was a lot of chatting about one thing or another. I barely got on my flight even though I thought I had plenty of time... Now I know that checking in on Southwest is not simply a matter of making sure you are not in the C group, it lets them know you're coming so they don't give your seat to someone else. Having forgotten to check in until 20 minutes before we left for the airport, I figured there was no point to checking in, but I realized I was wrong at the ticketing counter... Thankfully someone was willing to get bumped so I was able to make my flight after all. Anyway, I have a new appreciation for my family and for Dan for being my ironsherpas in the past. Not that I ever took them for granted but still, its an eye opener. I was happy to do it, though. I'm not going to lie, its good to feel needed. Doesn't everyone feel that way? And it was really fun to see my friend, to watch her have the race of her life, and to make some new friends.

Melange

2010-11-15T21:57:00.005-07:00

It's been so long since I blogged... I think I forgot how to blog. Its like riding a bike, right... you don't forget. Except when you are starting to use clipless pedals, which you never knew how to use in the first place, so you fall on top of a way hot guy at a stop sign and slice your ankle on your big chain ring and you're like "What, I'm fine, its so not a big deal!" while you choke back tears and your special new wicking sock becomes saturated in blood. Not that that necessarily happened to me... Just sayin.

Main important things since my last post in chronological order
1) I ran the Boulder Backroads half marathon in early October. Originally it was not even on my radar, but then my old friend/running buddy Dan (not husband Dan, different Dan. And not someone I ever dated named Dan either. Dans just come into my life a lot, I don't know why. And not my cousin Dan or the guy I used to work with Dan either), anyway running Dan was coming all the way from Rhode Island to Boulder to run this race. Still I was like I don't really want to pay $90 to run a race on roads that are always quiet and open the public for free, not to mention I can't run as fast as possible because its mainly on dirt roads. Hence the name of the event... But then I realized this could be an incredible chance to kick Dan's butt. Especially after he left me a really nice voicemail about how his training wasn't going so good, and how was my training going, and blah blah blah and finally at the very tail end of the message he was like "Oh and btw I ran 800's on the track in xx:xx's" And then there was no turning back. The trash talking began and I was suddenly hell bent on dominating the race. And by that I mean beating Dan. So I got in a few good quality workouts, and started a mini-taper, and increased the intensity of my trash talking (trash emailing, actually) and then Boulder was struck by some pretty horrible fires which interfered with the race. So it was postponed a couple of weeks, which made it impossible for Dan to come after all! So I ran it anyway, this time without the motivation to beat Dan but still with the motivation to run as fast as possible and to negative split, which I knew I could because there is a steady uphill stretch on the way out, and the course is a simple out and back. The day was perfect, the wind was minimal, and I got to the halfway point at about 57 minutes if I remember correctly. I started to lose steam around mile 11, and all the pesky stuff that had bothered me at different points in the past, my right hip and my right achilles tendon, they made me feel like my body was falling apart but I tried to hold on and I made it through the finish line in a time of 1:50:11, which is just a few seconds shy of my PR and was good for 7th in my age group!

2) I got a transcriptionist to help me with the part of my work that I can't stand.. writing reports. I was not made to sit in a chair! I literally feel like I have ants in my pants, and also my neck gets sore. And I have trouble focusing on work when there could be something happening on Facebook! But you did not come here to hear me kvetch. I just have such a hard time with sitting still. Sometimes Dan had a hard time understanding why I would be wearing fishnet tights and a leotard at 10 in the morning because he is really good at sitting in a chair and working from home. He'll be like "What are you doing?? Aren't you supposed to be working?" And I'll be like "I am. I just had to take a break to try on my Lady Gaga costume." (which turned out to be awesome. Check out my fb pictures). Working from home opens doors for procrastination like none you have ever seen. Anyways, now I have a transcriptionist, which is a plus. However it is not easy for me to dictate. You would think a motormouth such as myself would have no problem talking into a device but actually its a real bear. When I type a work report, I write, then I delete something, then I add something, then I delete "right" because I meant "left," then I go back to my original notes because I wrote "brain" when I meant to say "foot" (just kidding!). So hopefully this will get easier with practice. I went online to see if there were any tips on how to dictate and one website, which was directed at physicians said, under the lists of "don't's": Don't pass wind, burp, urinate, or defecate while transcribing. Uh.. thanks, but that was not the kind of advice I was seeking. So the internet was no help, I will just have to keep working at it. When I get the hang of it, I should have more energy for more important typing such as when I need to blog and work on my book.

3) Yes I am working on my book. I am really doing it. I have been talking about it for a while, procrastinating it for a while, but its happening. My only goal for now is to finish a first draft. I think that's plenty.

4) We got new windows. They are energy efficient, they are gorgeous and are not falling apart like the old ones. The best part is that you can't feel the breeze when you walk by a window in the winter. That is how crappy our old windows were. Oh my god that is so boring and it is on my list of "main important things." I don't even know myself anymore.

5) I got to see my family a bunch lately due to various celebrations... My parents took me to this place , which was featured on Diners, Drive Thrus and Dives on the Food Network and it might have been the best Italian food I have ever had in my life. They make their own pasta three times a day. GO THERE IF YOU EVER GET A CHANCE. Another fun thing I did with my family was watch old videos. The best one is one where my compulsively neat cousin who grew up to be a professional organizer, is like three years old and having a fit because her ice cream flavors are touching. While she is screaming her head off, my sister who is like two at the time and obviously learning to use a spoon is dropping her ice cream all over the table and licking it up while she thinks no one is watching. I am not even sure if that is funny in the retelling but I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. Also, my mom took me to get my eyebrows threaded. Personally, I thought my eyebrows were just fine but she is really into this, so I said I would try it. My sister warned me to leave my eyebrows alone so they would have something to work with. For weeks, I let them go. By the time I flew into town, I was glad my bangs were so overgrown (upon the advice of my hairdresser who told me to let them grow for a while... Um, did she forget I need to SEE??) that you couldn't see my eyebrows, which had turned into a veritable junkyard. They were gross. I was excited to get them cleaned up but threading hurt. Not as bad as stubbing your toe but worse than a bikini wax. And then when it was over they looked pretty good except for a couple strays, which I asked the girl to please fix. Except I don't think her English was very good because she started the whole process over on both eyebrows, and I was like "Wait!" and she was like "Well you said not too thin at first, so I tried to not remove too much the first time around." And I was thinking "Oh my god she is going to make me look all permanently surprised. I could have trimmed the strays myself. I am screwed!" And I did think I looked a little surprised when it was all over but my mom, sister, and cousin assured me it looked great. I think it was a good experience, just to see what it was like but my own method will continue to suit me for the future.

6) I started celebrating my birthday this weekend... Dan and I went to this place we'd never been to before in Denver. Actually #6 could simply be, "I left Boulder" and that would be noteworthy in and of itself. Anyway, we showed up and I was so surprised to see a few of our friends seated a table, because I couldn't figure out why they would be out at this place at the same time as us, and beside I didn't even realize they were friends with each other... and then it dawned on me Dan had set this up to surprise me, which it totally did! So fun.

7) I found this pair of shoes I had been eyeing for forever on SierraTradingPost.com.. They are like $100 in Pedestrian and I was not prepared to spend that much on shoes right now, but here they are for like half the price... I haven't decided whether I want them in brown or red... I really want black but they don't have black in my size. I am leaning toward brown.

8) This is not chronological but Dan came out of retirement for his annual 5k. This year we did one in California with his sister and brother-in-law... I talked so much trash, as we approached the start line, my brother in law was like "I think I would really like to see Dan win." Which he freaking did. What the Hades!? He has not run since the Panicking Poultry 5k last year, except for I think one or two miles, and then BAM he beats me by 30 seconds. I am not making excuses but I had been running really well up to this race and I was really excited to race at sea level, I was imagining some awesome result, but all I did was like a 7:50ish pace. Blech. It was not my day. I hoped to find my groove again at the Turkey Trot 10k this weekend but I bailed on it because my achilles was bothering me a little and I didn't want to piss it off.

That's all for now. I hope to be a more frequent blogger in the future.

How I make it look so easy

2010-09-15T20:23:00.007-06:00

Here's the thing you need to know if you are going to get bangs. They're work. A lot of times, especially at my job, my patients ask me "Do you have kids?" and I just smile and say "No." But in my mind I am like Are you kidding me? I don't have a cat, I don't have a dog, I don't even have a pet rock. I am always like a thousand miles late on scheduling oil changes for my car. I have plants but I do best with cacti and philodedendrons (read: low maintenance). Anyways, I have freaking bangs, ok. That's what I can be responsible for right now. Bangs. They are more work than you think."

About a year ago, in the spirit of trust and cooperation, in a zombie-like rosemary mint shampoo induced trance, I told my hairdresser she could do whatever she wanted. I ended up with bangs for the first time since 1991. And you know what? They were cute! They were fun! They totally went with my face and my new chin length hair! WHY HAD I BEEN AVOIDING BANGS SINCE THE SEVENTH GRADE!?!

No sooner had I experienced the thrill of lathering my newly shortened locks and the first post-shower shake of my new hair when I realized all the ramifications of my new coif... You have to blow bangs dry. Because if you don't, they don't even know they are bangs. They would act like regular hair if you let them, just going this way and that, trying to blend in with the rest of your hair, so you have to heat style them into submission or else put them back in a clip or a headband. Which is like the sound of a tree falling in the woods with no one to hear it, a complete waste.

Over the past year, I have learned not only how to properly maintain my bangs, but I have also learned what people mean when they talk about tuning out their spouse. I am not placing blame or naming names but I am saying in our household there is one person who is frequently like "Are my bangs out of control? Are they? What are they doing? I don't have a mirror. Seriously, are they crazy right now?" and another person who is neither answering or making eye contact and more than likely either watching the Daily Show or reading the business section. This person is prone to confirming having actually heard the bangs inquiry despite having fully ignored it, as evidenced by the propensity to ask at any given time, "Are my bangs out of control!?" in a way that is completely sarcastic and somewhat mocking.

You know who suffers the most in all of this? The bangs. And they don't suffer silently. They may wait quietly for a period of time but inevitably they will exact revenge. Take this weekend for instance; Dan and I went camping. I didn't bring my blow dryer because I didn't know what the availability of electrical outlets would be like. As it turned out they were plentiful. Each time I used the ladies room at our campground the sight of the plethora of outlets taunted me and my bangs, which by Sunday morning were all but plastered to the top of my head, having been held down by some combination of a headband, head lamp, bike helmet and/or fleece hat for 48 hours straight.

Monday came and my bangs seemed to mock me, as if to say, "You ignore us, we ignore you!" Despite having washed and blown them out on Sunday night, I awoke Monday, having pressed snooze no fewer than ten times with bangs pointing north, south, east, and west. It didn't go with my business casual outfit. With just ten minutes to get out of the house and still make it to work on time, I plugged in my slim yet powerful Chi flatiron. It heated up with warp speed while my bangs were forming what would turn out to be an army of resistance. For as soon as I released the steaming hot straightening tool from my hair, instead of the totally under control look my hairdresser so easily achieved in the salon, I had bangs that were poker straight, resting at a 45 degree angle to my head. I tried to get them to lie flat, but they would not retreat. I backpedaled, quickly wetting them and blasting them with my blowdryer to no avail. At a 45 degree angle they remained, their proverbial heels digging steadfast into the mud/my scalp.

I came to the breakfast table with armed with a battle plan and a barrette in my pocket. If my bangs did not relax down by the time I got to work, I would clip them back. As I inhaled my oatmeal, Dan happened to look up from the paper. For what might have been the first time since I have known him, he took a good look at my bangs. He stared for a moment. "Your bangs. They're really... straight." I had kept my cool up to then but everyone has a breaking point. "I KNOW!! I KNOW THEY ARE STRAIGHT. THEY ARE STRAIGHT AND THEY ARE IN A DIFFERENT ZIP CODE THAN MY FOREHEAD!!! I HAVE NO TIME FOR THIS!!! I AM GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK AND MY BANGS ARE OUT OF CONTROL. I have a barrette just in case." Moved by the gravity of the situation, Dan laughed hysterically and finally for once agreed, "Your bangs are totally out of control." I wanted to ask him if he was sure but I knew that he was and that would be like asking if your butt was eating your too-tight jeans when you can totally feel them giving you a wedgie as you ask the question, so I said nothing and accepted that my bangs were a disaster that even Dan could recognize.

It was kind worth it just to get Dan to acknowledge my bangs. I think he is starting to get how hard it is to be me.

Race Report: Aetna Park to Park 10 miler

2010-09-06T14:47:00.003-06:00

Hoping I was still fit from triathlon season and hoping to better my time from last year and enjoy my annual trip to the big city (just kidding. I venture out of the Boulder Bubble to go to Denver at least quarterly. Mainly to go to the airport. Just kidding. Not really. The people are just not as nice there! Just a few weekends ago, I had to go to Denver for a workshop. In the space of 5 minutes some lady with a severe case of road rage attempted to hit my car while she screamed obscenities at me non-stop for 3 blocks and then a pedestrian, a little old lady whom I motioned to go ahead, motioned at me to go ahead, and then when I insisted she go first, she gave me the stink eye and all but snarled at me. WTF. The very next day, back in Boulder, some stranger lent me his floor pump when I had to stop in front of his house to fix a flat on my bike. And later that day a stranger apologized to me in the grocery line for having too many things in her cart at the Express checkout. Can you blame me for not wanting to leave Boulder?)

Anyway, despite being outside Boulder, the Park to Park is a great course, as it is point to point and it takes you through several of Denver's beautiful parks (Washington, Cheeseman, Alamo Placita, and City). There is a lot of shade, and you wind through not only parks but also cute residential neighborhoods. There are some gradual climbs, nice descents, and a couple of straight sections that are mostly flat, but mostly it turns and winds a lot. It started at 7:00 a.m. which was super because it was still very cool out at that point and I hate running in the heat. I got in a quick little warm up, then ran into a couple of my friends and lined up by the 8:00 pace area. I hoped to average 8:30's. I meant to do this last year but fell short by kind of a lot. So I was here to try again and to redeem myself from the ill fated 10k of a couple weeks ago.

I started out at a pace that was quicker than my normal everyday run but still fairly relaxed. At the first mile mark my split was about 8:03 or something. The bad news was at 5:15 in the morning I took Dan's ghetto watch instead of my Garmin. The good news is, it is true that necessity is the mother of invention. This stupid watch and all its stupid functions had eluded me up till now. Upon realizing it was my only option, I quickly taught myself to find and use the lap split function. I didn't spend six years in college for nothing. Anyway, it was a blessing in disguise to have forgotten the Garmin. Just looking at my time every mile allowed me to focus more on just running and being instead of constantly looking to check my pace. I try not to do that but I always do it anyway.

The second mile, I still felt pretty relaxed and my watch said 8:11 or thereabouts. I had a mini freak out that maybe this was going to be another of these horrible races where I feel awesome for four miles and then realize I can't hold anything near that pace to save my life and the rest of the race becomes a death march. And then I told myself that is highly unlikely because a) low 8's is not that fast, b) those miles may have had a net elevation loss, and c) I am a different runner than I was last year and I know what my body can do. I know how I am supposed to feel at the beginning of a race like this and this is exactly how I should feel, and of course d) I remembered a particularly awesome track workout I did last week and reminded myself I am totally capable of this so just relax. And e) in the car on the way to the race I had already had a talk with myself and told myself the point was to have fun and do the best I could, I had already had a fantastic season so if this went well it would be a bonus and if it did not, who cared.

By the end of the third mile my watch said 8:13 or something and I still felt pretty good. It was getting harder but that is normal, I decided. It was then that I firmed up my race plan (of course yesterday would have been the best time for that but I was busy making jam, canning peaches and putting things in the Give Away pile. Better late than never.) And my race plan was this: Easy-ish miles 1-3, moderately hard miles 3-7, very hard/all out miles 7-10. Voila. And that is what I did. By the 7th mile I was looking around all time time for the 8th mile marker and feeling pretty rough but my splits were staying consistent/ getting faster, with some sub-8's at this point. Somewhere between miles 8-9, I passed an older guy who was running with a leash to another runner. The back of his t-shirt said "Blind, diabetic insulin dependent runner." Most of the time I don't talk to other runners (and much of the reason for that is because so many of them wear headphones) but I had to tell this guy he was awesome, because he was. After I passed him I got a little choked up just thinking about all he has had to overcome to be in this race. It's truly amazing.

Onward. It was around this time that I passed pink skirt girl. I felt kind of bad for her because I had spent the better part of miles 3-4 running like 2 inches from her and basically breathing down her neck but I wouldn't stop because she was blocking the wind for me as we ran uphill, and we were about the same pace. Thank you, pink skirt. Anyway, I think she got annoyed (I would have) because she sprinted away from me at one point. I felt a little guilty for annoying her but not enough to not feel vindicated when I passed her later (for good).

Mile 8-9, I tried to pick up the pace, I passed a bunch of people. Mile 9-10, I realized I had started my all out sprint a little early but tried to hang on and focused on each little thing ahead of me instead of the finish. I just told myself "Ok get to the bench." and then I would pick the next thing that was like 20 feet away, "Just get to that patch of dirt." "Just get to the manhole." and that was how I got to the finish line. In a time of 1:20:49. Yeah, you read that right. I ran an 8:05 pace for 10 miles. I didn't know I could do that!! I knew it was looking good for me when I got to the ninth mile at 1:12 and change and I thought then, oh my god, I am so going to go faster than 1:25 (which was my goal). Yahoo!!!

The Yoga Scene

2010-08-26T23:01:00.003-06:00

Can someone tell me when yoga became so ridiculously trendy?? I guess I have known it was hot for quite some time now, considering there was a yoga class available at my gym way back in 2002, when it was known as AC Fitness, or no-AC Fitness as we no-so-affectionately dubbed it during the not-so-bearable North Carolina summers. And this was before hot yoga had caught on in that part of the country so it wasn't in any way stylish, it was just hot, damp and miserable. But the point is, although I mostly live under a rock, I knew yoga was gaining popularity, however I had not realized to what extent until now.

So what happened was, it was Monday night and for some reason I was hell-bent on going to yoga. I think the last time I went to yoga was sometime last year but the yoga bug bit me hard and I just had to get my Om on and it had to be Monday. I got to the gym at 5:49 for the 6:00 class only to find the gym was closed for renovations. I was frustrated, but only briefly for I live in one of the most crunchy-chic towns in the U.S. (yeah, crunchy chic, I just made that up). I knew that somewhere within a 2 mile radius there had to be a yoga studio with a 6:00 class. So I booked it over to Core Power Yoga because I knew exactly where it was and it was close.

It turned out to be the Chili's of yoga studios. Like, it's not bad, the price is reasonable, there's one in every major city, but why would you go there when you could go to a unique little venue with local flavor? Like when I was in high school my friends and I loved Chili's. It was open late, we liked the chicken fajitas, there was bottomless diet cokes, and we liked the ambiance but we didn't really know any better. I suspect I would have really liked Core Power Yoga when I was in high school.

Except at that time there was no such thing as Core Power Yoga and no one I knew did yoga at all except me and my mom. On Monday nights we would go to this lady Joan's yoga class, which we heard about through my dad's cousin, who is a bird-watching, peace-loving, women's health activist type of person. In 1995 the way to find a yoga class was by asking this sort of person, for there was no world wide web, and your YMCA class schedule was not going to include yoga. The class was held on the third floor of a three family house. There was no big shiny sign out front, it was just a space our teacher, Joan, rented for her classes. Joan reminded me of mother earth, if mother earth were a person. I was the youngest person there, and my mom was quite possibly the second youngest. We wore sweatpants or cotton lycra leggings and t-shirts. The room was comfortably warm but not hot.

So like what happened in the last 15 years??? I show up at yoga and takes me several laps around the parking lot to finally find a spot and then I walk into the studio and this girl at the cash register is telling me I can go to some Vinyasa class in studio A or Yoga Sculpt in studio B. I pick Yoga Sculpt because it starts at 6:15 instead of 6:00 which allows me to change without being late. Then the girl tries to introduce me to the teacher of the class and she's like "Cool Yoga Dude, this is Pam, and she has never been here before!" Cool Yoga Dude totally ignored cash register girl which was awkward. She tried again and he vaguely nodded, never taking his eyes off whatever it was he was doing at that moment. She was like "Men totally can't multi-task!" I smiled and nodded, as I can't say I disagree. I changed in the locker room which was a total mob scene however they had mouthwash in big pump bottles with little disposable cups, which was cool.

I was astounded by all the skinny little women whom I would have classified as gym rats were we in a gym. I guess the more appropriate term would be yoga rat? That sounds weird though. Anyway, I am observing all these hot young yoga rats and I am like "What is up with all these Lululemon'ed girls??" It looked like a yoga sorority. And then when I paused to stop thinking judgmental thoughts I remembered I was wearing my unbelievably-awesome-worth-every-I-am-not-even-going-to-say-how-many-dollars-I-spent-on-them-because-my-mother-is-reading-this-and-she-would-have-a-cow-if-she-knew-but- they-are-reversible-so-it-is-like -having-two-pair-of-pants-and-they-make-my-ass-look-perfect-Lululemon Pants. And I remembered that I was in a sorority.

Anyway, I got to the class and looked around and saw everyone but me had a cool looking thin towel over their mat. I figured it was a style thing. Meanwhile, Cool Yoga Dude was standing at the front of the room shirtless, with this hairstyle like none I have ever seen before. He had super short hair except for a braid sticking out of the middle/top of his head. He didn't participate in the class, he just told us what to do. Between shivasanas and chatarangas I saw him go over to the thermostat and crank it way up. Soon my yoga mat was a big puddle of sweat. It resembled more of a slip and slide than a yoga mat and I realized why everyone else had those towels. While I looked around to make fully sure I was truly the only person without a towel, I noticed I was one of the oldest people in the class. I realize I live in a college town, but aren't college students supposed to be busy studying or partying? If I were a college student in 2010 I would probably be too busy stalking my crushes on Facebook and Twitter to make it to yoga class.

Anyway, class was good, I left so sweaty I felt as though I had taken a shower with my clothes on and I think I opened up some shakras. It just made me miss the class I used to take with my mom back when yoga wasn't even cool. Or maybe I just missed being the youngest instead of one of the oldest.

Race Report: Heart and Sole 10k

2010-08-23T07:07:00.004-06:00

I wasn't sure how this race would go... I felt I still had a lot of fitness leftover from my triathlon season, and although I had been training, it was unstructured and haphazard for the most part. The course was mainly a dirt path with a few hills. I think it's a lot harder to go fast on dirt versus pavement.

During my warm up I got a pretty good feel for how the race would go, which was not good. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was barely jogging and I was sucking down air like it was the last 200 meters of a 5k. Yikes. I hoped I would settle in over the course of my 20 minute warm up but I never did. The most likely culprit was this super-caffeinated (I think it had 200 mg of caffeine) sports drink I sipped on the way to the race. I had tried the drink in training and it was fine, so this was totally unexpected. Another possible culprit was lack of sleep although this seemed less likely. Friday night Dan and I took the bus downtown and went out for sushi and I went to bed kind of late, considering on Saturday I was up by 6:15 to go to a day course in Denver on the shoulder.... Then Saturday night, after the course we hung out at a neighbor's party for a while and then I had to get some work done, which I did, but then when I was done with work I wasn't that tired anymore but I knew I had to be up by 5:15 to get to the race on time so I went to bed at 11:00 but Dan was already sleeping, so I did the obvious thing, I kept the light off and laid on my side facing away from Dan while I looked at rugs on Overstock.com on my iphone. I am really into this one right now. I think it would be good for the living room. At 11:20 I realized I would be getting up in only six hours so I shut my eyes and tried to sleep. I slept horribly, waking up just about every hour. So maybe the fatigue of two nights of insufficient sleep was part of why I felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest while I was trying to run.

The gun went off and off we went. I usually choose my pace based on my breathing but since my breathing was out of control anyway, I used my legs as a guide. My friend Ann who I train with dropped me within the first 10 meters. I normally run a little faster than her so I figured if I just ran my race I would catch up but instead she pulled farther and farther away from me and I never did catch her. Within the first mile I kept thinking, if I am breathing so hard now, how am I going to finish this race without blowing up?? I simultaneously maintained a tiny shred of hope that maybe I just needed more time to warm up and my breathing would eventually settle down. Somewhere between miles 2 and 3, after much debate I walked a few steps. I saw what felt like the whole race pass me by and felt totally discouraged but I literally could not catch my breath. I started running again and tried to convince myself the race wasn't totally over just because I walked a little. I got to the turnaround and checked my watch. 7:54.. we started at 7:30... 24 minutes... Maybe my race was not totally over, if I could just avoid walking and stay focused. After the turnaround, I saw tons and tons of runners coming toward me and realized I was in the front of the race. Maybe things weren't so bad. I was still having trouble breathing but the mental boost of knowing I was toward the front kept me going for a while, until about mile 4 when I was having a terrible side stitch and felt like I just couldn't take a deep breath. I slowed down for a while but it didn't help. I walked through an aid station and caught my breath and then ran again, knowing there was about a mile and a half left. I promised myself I would not walk. I focused on the sound of some guy's feet getting closer and closer and I for a while I held him off but then he passed me and I couldn't pass him back. Finally finally the finish line was close and we were on pavement again. A girl in a white Lululemon top passed me, and I found a burst of energy to pass her back, but then she passed me and I had nothing left to try and sprint past her again. I crossed the finish line and the clock read 49 something. It was not great but it was not that bad considering I felt like doody the whole race.

After walking around, cooling down and getting some snacks, (ps this race had great food and a nice t-shirt that was a WOMEN's cut. Thank you, Heart and Sole for giving me something I can actually USE!) I looked at the preliminary results and found I was third in my age group. That made me feel better although I was thoroughly surprised that an 8:00/mile pace, one of my slowest 10k's of the last several years, was sufficient to place. Anyway, I really like this distance. I'm sure I will find another 10k to do. Next time it will be on pavement, I will get adequate sleep and I will not drink that stupid Catapult drink.

Epic Ride: Mount Evans Hill Climb

2010-08-17T17:18:00.012-06:00

When I moved to Colorado a couple of years ago I had heard that people ride their bikes to the top of Mount Evans, but I for one was totally not interested. The ride starts at about 7600' and ends at 14,130'. No thanks, this flatlander was having trouble going up the stairs at 5430'. Also, I had heard parts of the road on Mount Evans were very "exposed." I wasn't sure what that meant but it didn't sound like something I wanted to experience. I had done a lot of hill climbing thank you, I would be happy to do plenty more, but it would not need to be higher than the treeline.

Recently, my friend Alan started making plans for his visit to Boulder... I imagined all fun things we could do together! And by "fun things," I mean bike rides! Alan after all was the one who introduced me to the epic climb. When I lived in Chapel Hill, we used to do day trips to ride up Mount Mitchell, Beech Mountain, and Snake Mountain... We did Bike Tour Colorado together in 2008. He would love Flagstaff! Or we could do repeats up NCAR! Or climb up to Jamestown! Or Ward! But then he emailed me and he was like "Maybe we could ride up Mount Evans one day?" And I was like "No way!" But it was already too late, the bug was in my ear... and after all I had finally acclimated to altitude. And the base of Mt. Evans was only an hour from my house. And Alan was coming all this way, and we have a tradition of doing ridonculous climbs together, it would be sacrilege to say I wouldn't go... So I told him it would depend on the weather. Which was forecast to be pretty much perfect, so we had no choice but to go, which is what we did today. We had climbed Flagstaff yesterday so I wasn't sure how my legs would fare but they held up ok.

We planned to roll out at 8:00. We got on our bikes at 8:26. I brought 6 gels, imagining the 27.5 mile climb, during which we would gain over 6,000 feet of elevation would take around 3 hours. I kind of remembered Mt. Mitchell being about 3 hours or so when I was in shape, and that was about a 28 mile climb with... gosh I wasn't sure how much elevation but it was supposed to be an average of a 6% grade and I read Evans was an average 4% grade so I would probably be good...

It was a very easy gradual climb from the middle school in Idaho Springs (which is where 103 meets I70) to about the 13th mile. There is a pretty stream going by on your left and there is even a trout farm, just like at Mt. Mitchell. These two climbs were actually very similar so far. At about mile 13 you get to Echo Lake which is a crystal clear mountain fed lake.

There are pit toilets at Echo Lake but no running water. Shortly thereafter is a little visitor center where I filled up my water. They also have homemade pies. Today there was coconut cream pie. I didn't get any but I am making sure next time I do this climb I call ahead and make sure they have it because that is my favorite kind of pie and I am already looking forward to making a pie pit stop. (Dan happens to really love pie so maybe that will be part of my hook when I get him to do this with me). Also, this visitor center has a nice bathroom. Just after that is the toll station where you pay $3 to continue. I wish I had known I could have given them my national parks pass, because then it would have been free. I actually forgot money (believe it or not, ha ha) so I will have to be ESPECIALLY organized next time with the parks pass... Once you get up past the toll area, you have 14.5 miles left until you get to the summit and there are nicely marked on mile posts. This was good because the odometer on my road bike has needed a new battery for probably a year now. Everything was pretty smooth sailing until about the 3rd mile or so, when things got very exposed. And this is how I learned what "exposed" means. It means what you think it means. It's awful. I don't know how high we were at this point but it was HIGH. As in above the treeline. There were no more trees, no guardrails and plenty of strong crosswinds. There was a sharp dropoff to my right and cars coming intermittently on my left... Not the most fun.

It got better after maybe a mile or two. It was still windy and exposed from there on but not nearly as scary. There was a little dip, the only respite we had till the top, for about 3/4 mile, then it was up, up, up some more, with one especially steep part which was maybe a 10% grade for about a quarter mile. That was the only part I would describe as especially steep. Then it went back to the way it was, gradual but not easy. We stopped for some animals who were crossing the road at one point. I think they were big horn sheep. Can you see them in the picture? I wasn't trying to snap a shot of the SUV, I really was trying to capture the wildlife.

Then we got going again and it was a long steady grind with lots and lots of tight switchbacks as we climbed into the sky. We seemed to be parallel with the clouds and the ground around us was becoming rockier and less life-sustaining. The mountains in the distance were waves of blue. It felt like we were literally on top of the world as we approached 14,000 feet of elevation. I have tried to hike up a 14'er and a 13'er and neither worked out (that is for another post)... I did hike up to 12,000' in Wyoming last summer, so I think this was the highest I have been other than in a plane...

We reached the summit at about 1:45 pm...

I would say we spent 40 minutes of the elapsed time futzing around with leg warmers, peeing, eating, refilling water, etc. so total ride time to the top was about 4:40... By this time I had run out of gels and I was HUNGRY. Alas there were no vending machines at 14,000 feet. We enjoyed the view and headed down to the visitors center at Echo Lake. The descent was dicey as you had to be constantly focused but also relaxed, in order to be safe but not a Nervous Nelly. I did ok but I couldn't do anything about the annoying seams in the road, which came about every 5 seconds or so. I hate those! We got to the visitor center within about 45 minutes (the miles go so fast when you are going down!) and I had the best chips and vanilla frapuccino OF MY LIFE. Oh boy was I glad I had on my Patagonia camisole, armwarmers, a smartwool top over my bike jersey, my vest, and my ear warmer headband for the descent. Even though we were getting lower and lower it was threatening rain and I was a little chilly. We booked it down from Echo Lake, where the grade is shallower and the turns are wider, making for a fun, thrilling (but not too thrilling) descent. Then we got back to town and we stopped at a Shell station where I ate the best burrito OF MY LIFE. (It was an egg, steak and cheese Santiago's burrito. You can also get them at the Noa Noa coffee shop in Golden).

What a day! I would rate the climb somewhat more difficult than Mitchell mainly because of wind, exposure, and altitude. I felt fine but I think I was more short of breath than I normally would have been at that pace once we got within 5 miles or so of the top.

Advice about this climb
I think if you have done some long climbs in the past and you feel fairly confident in your climbing ability and aren't too nervous of a descender you would enjoy this and would have no problem getting to the top. This would NOT be a good one to do if you are not comfortable with that stuff. It's just a little too dicey in some places to be safe or at all enjoyable for a beginner. As far as gearing, I did fine with a 34 on the front and a 12-25 cassette. Of course you always wish you had one more gear, but it really was ok.

Race Report: Boulder 70.3

2010-08-15T23:34:00.005-06:00

The race happened last weekend, but better late than never...
I really really wanted to break 6 hours for this race. I was watching the weather carefully leading up to it, hoping it would not be 90 degrees for the run. I think it ended up being closer to 80 than 90, so definitely could have been worse.. Ok starting from the beginning-

Race morning was uneventful. I was running late as usual, got on my bike, realized I forgot my helmet, went back in the garage. Then realized I forgot my aerodrink, went in the house it got it... Got about 3 blocks away and freaked out that maybe I had forgotten my socks. I checked, they were there, and I was on my way... A bridge was out on the bike path so I had to take a detour. I prayed a special prayer, Please god do not let me get lost today. I did not get lost. If you are wondering how it is possible to get lost 3 miles from your house, I am here to tell you, I don't know how I make it look so easy but I do it like a pro. I got to the race and realized that during my pre-race bike washing ritual I had failed to put my Bento box back on the bike:( Luckily my pocket was sufficient to hold my gazillion gels and salt tabs.

Swim (1.2 miles): The swim went along fine except I was swallowing a lot of water and air. I really wanted to belch but I couldn't do it while swimming. I was managing ok till someone nearly punched me in the face and I inhaled a gallon of reservoir water. I did the doggy paddle while I tried to avoid aspirating, which was lovely. I got a little off course right toward the end but as usual I came out in 46:xx which is what I was expecting.

I had to pee really bad so I peed in the transition area while changing shoes! This was huge for me. In the ninth grade my youth group went to New York City. There was a huge line in the bathroom of some restaurant before we were about to board the bus for the 3.5 hour trip home. It was my last chance to use the restroom and I couldn't for the life of me make myself pee in that crowded ladies room. That bus ride was the longest 3.5 hours of my life. I felt very proud of how far I had come in just 16 short years.

Bike (56 mi): The bike was great. I did what Coach Liz said and took it easy for the first 20-30 minutes, letting my heart rate settle down. That is the harder part of the course anyway so I just kept my chain in the little ring and spun easy. After the first half hour I started pushing it but not too hard. Per Liz's instructions, my heart rate stayed within zones 2-3 for the duration of the ride. I didn't wear my HRM but I am pretty aware of how my heart rate corresponds with my perceived exertion so this worked out well. I stuck to my schedule of eating gels and taking salt tabs, and drank much more than usual. For most of the second two thirds of the bike course you can really move, it is a very fast course. The second loop was more of the same except I was passing a lot more people. My legs felt strong throughout. When I was in a headwind or on an incline I would think "Strong legs, big mountain lungs." This was a good little mantra. I finished the bike in just under 2:55, which was my goal. I felt ready to conquer the hot, shadeless run.

Run (13.1 mi): I started the run and remembered what Liz had said, that I should go easy for the first three miles and then pick it up. It was hard to hold back, but my breathing was really out of control so it was probably good that I made myself slow down some. At the third mile I picked up my pace a hair, to where I felt like it was more of a run than a warm up jog. Other than the really fast guys who were on their second loop, I was passing a lot of runners and that felt good. In general I was just feeling good except for the fact that I was still burpy from the swim and I was not interested in eating any more gels but was forcing one down every 30 or so minutes regardless. I was taking advantage of the ice and the cold wet sponges at every aid station, and these were great for cooling me off. I also dumped water on my head at each aid station. At mile 10, with just 3.1 miles to go I picked up my pace a little more, to the fastest I thought I could manage from here to the finish. For the first time at a half ironman, I was not just surviving, I was really running! I felt tired but strong and ready to finish. I didn't know what time it was but I felt sure I would break six hours and I was excited to let this all be over. I wanted my burpiness to be over, my minor stomach ache to be over, and I wanted to feel the feeling of running through the finish chute because I just wanted to be done. I kept thinking how close I was and that I didn't have much more to go, just keep it steady and don't let up. Finally I came through the finish chute, happy and relieved, and then suddenly miserable the second I stopped moving. I thought I was maybe going to puke and I was really confused about my time. The big sign said 6:40 when I ran under it... I started 40 minutes back from the first wave... so did that mean I finished in six hours? Which would be ok except I thought for sure I had ran faster than that... so really it wasn't ok, I thought for sure I had gone well under 6 hours, but math was never my strong point, and I wasn't sure if I saw the sign right, I never had a watch the whole day so I didn't know if my wave went on time or what and then I saw Dan and he said it was 1:09 pm which meant... I wasn't sure what it meant so I did the natural thing, which was have a meltdown in the middle of the race expo area. I cried on Dan's chest and hoped no one would notice me totally losing my sh*t. I was tired, bloated, sunburnt, my feet hurt, and I was just overwhelmed.

We walked around a little and then we went back to the tent where my parents and Dan's parents were hanging out. I ate a few chips and a cookie my mother-in-law made and I felt much better. Then I saw the preliminary results and all was right with the world. I had finished the run in 2:00:53 (sub 2 hour run, I am coming for you next time!!!).

Total time- 5:47:14!!! Yeah!! I was 25th of 80 in my age group, which was super exciting, considering I am normally around the 50th percentile or lower for a race of this distance. A great race and a great way to end the season. Other than being about five minutes slower than I had projected for the run, I had totally executed my plan and had a 17 minute PR. What else can you ask for?

Race Report: Pearl Street Mile

2010-08-12T23:07:00.002-06:00

I am overdue for a report on the Boulder 70.3 (which was awesome!) but the Pearl Street Mile was tonight, therefore more fresh in my mind and also was only a mile, so it will be a quicker post.

I wasn't sure if I should even do the race because I thought my legs were still tired from the half ironman this past Sunday BUT I did the Pearl Street Mile last year and I was really curious to see if I could go faster. I set the bar low-ish last year with a time of 7:03 so I thought it was conceivable that I would go faster but I also felt ok with blaming a sub-par performance on the fatigue leftover from the weekend.

I did a nice long warm-up, including some strides and also a shot of espresso about a half hour before the race, as per the advice of our Australian roommates. He is a an aspiring professional cyclist and she is a professional triathlete. I felt good about taking their advice. Taking the shot of espresso... not so good. Don't get me wrong, I don't mean to say anything rude about coffee. I LOVE coffee. Coffee is my friend. Coffee makes me feel good when I feel bad. But sort of the way a Fundamentalist is to a Sunday churchgoer or a shot of tequila is a to a margarita, a shot of espresso is to a double shot Americano with a shot of steamed soy milk and one packet of Splenda. It's a little much. I had it at 6pm. I don't think I will fall asleep till Sunday, earliest.

I lined up at what I thought was the middle but soon realized it was the back. I was kind of thinking it was the back when I saw a lot of 9 year old kids and chubby people my parents' age. I was sure of it when a fat older lady asked "Where's water? Is there any water? I need water." Um, lady, its 6:20 p.m., its like 78 degrees without a trace of humidity, and we are running a mile. A. MILE. I think you can make it without water. Like a garden snake in a hot pink Brooks wicking top, I quietly and I hoped not rudely slithered my way to the middle of the front area.

The gun went off and I went. I almost got pushed over a few times as we approached the almost immediate sharp right turn onto Spruce. At the next turn I was sure I had gone out too fast, but by the time you go out you are practically coming back anyway so it didn't much matter. I was aware that my breathing was totally out of control but it was just a mile. We turned left onto Pearl and then left again and we were halfway to the finish line and I wanted to die. My lungs were burning. Why was I doing this? One mile? One stupid mile? What was even the point of this meshugas? Oh my god this was the definition of insanity. This girl with a bright blue top wants to pass me. I won't let her I won't let her I won't let her. Too late, she went by. Catch up to her! Forget it, just get to the finish. Clock says 6:35... I can get there by 6:40. There is a knife in my lungs. I cannot breathe. Oh my god. 6:40! Yeah!!!!!!

I got second in my age group and 13th out of 63 women in the "Friends and Family" wave! (They let the pros and semi-pros go in their own division). And I got a coupon to Outdoor Divas after.

Farewell, friend

2010-08-04T21:00:00.006-06:00

Do you ever wonder what you are doing here? Not sitting at your computer wasting time reading blogs, that's just lame, I don't know why you are doing that, maybe you should go back to work. I mean the existential question of what is this all about and what is the point of being here on earth in this lifetime. Most of the time I am thinking about crossing things off on my "To Do" list... sending emails, remembering to take the laundry out of the washer before it molds and stuff like that. Every once in a while I consider what my true purpose is but not that much. It's kind of overwhelming because I don't have a really good answer right now. I was thinking about this on my bike ride today because I found out about the recent death of someone I used to know. What was his purpose in his relatively short life? He died, I could die, I will inevitably die, I am running out of time to figure out why I am really here and then make it happen...

I am not sure what to call this person. He was not exactly a friend and not exactly a patient of mine but sort of both. I knew him when I worked in mental health. The place where I worked was a Clubhouse. No, not that kind of clubhouse. Its a day program for adults with chronic, severe, mental illness. It is just as much a "treatment center" as it is a supportive community, a place where people with mental illness, who oftentimes cannot hold down a job, have a hard time maintaining friendships, and who may be estranged from their families, can go for support, comraderie, and assistance with everything from understanding a bus schedule (OMG I cannot believe I got paid to help people with that! I need a bus schedule tutor half the time myself) to getting their meds before their prescription runs out, to securing a part-time job. The "patients" or "consumers" are considered "members" and the staffs' role is to find ways to let members use their skills and abilities to facilitate the daily operations of the clubhouse, including planning, preparing and serving meals, advocating for mental health policy, running a thrift shop, planning social events, and fundraising. The idea is to engage people in something larger than themselves and to maximize their potential to live meaningful, productive lives in the community. Most of us do not realize that our everyday lives require us to be part of something bigger than ourselves, be it marriage, family, neighborhood, job, religious community, whatever. People with severe mental illness on the other hand do not necessarily have these resources, so the opportunities this day program gives them are truly unique and health promoting; Being part of something bigger than yourself means you have to wake up each morning. It means you have a purpose of some kind. We take it for granted but having a purpose, even a purpose for one hour of each day, is life sustaining. Consider the alternative: You wake up with no one expecting you anywhere, anytime, at all, for anything. Just the idea of that kind of makes me want to crawl under the covers for a long long time.

One of the members I am honored to have known passed away and this is what I remember about him. He was a kind, gentle soul. He had a hard time in the world, coping with mental illness. He didn't have a job, he didn't have much contact with his family, and his mental stability was iffy. He had a huge heart and a bright smile. He had courage. People with mental illness are some of the bravest, strongest people I know. Simply put, they get shit on by society and yet they have the fewest resources to better their situation. I know this is America, people need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, blah blah blah but I don't really want to hear it unless you have a severe persistent chronic mental illness or have a family member with one, otherwise you can't begin to understand what these people deal with on a daily basis. The endurance it must take just to keep on living boggles my mind. I had not talked to my friend in years but when I heard the news of his passing I saw his smiling face in my mind and I thought this world just lost a beautiful soul. I hope that he is resting peacefully or that his soul might have the opportunity to live in harmony with a healthy mind. I imagine he must have struggled with his purpose on this earth, as most of us do. I cannot presume to say what it was. I can say that he will live in my memory as a source of inspiration, as one whose smile could light up a room. I feel lucky to have crossed paths with him.

Dear Dog Owners,

2010-07-29T14:13:00.003-06:00

First of all, I would like you to know I love dogs. I have had a dog in the past, I have done a fair amount of dog sitting, and I currently would like a dog (see previous post).

That said, I am sick and tired of strange dogs running up to me, off-leash, on public trails. Would you come up to within half an inch of my body and then start rubbing against me in public without so much as an introduction? Didn’t think so. Then why would you allow your dog to do this? I know, your dog is friendly, otherwise you wouldn't let him do this. Newsflash: I. Don’t. Care. Your dog could be Miss America and I still wouldn’t care because when I am running along and an unfamiliar dog comes barreling at me while you stand there holding your travel coffee mug, and saying nothing, I feel my stomach do a flip and my whole body feels like it is on fire and my heart starts beating super fast, you know like how you do when you randomly run into someone you used to date in the supermarket, which thank god I will probably never have that experience again because I moved a thousand miles from home and met the man I would eventually marry before I had time to really date anyone else.

I know you know the freaked-out feeling of which I speak. (You may also feel this way when you narrowly avoid a car accident or when you are just walking and for no reason your ankle rolls because your Dankso somehow got out from under you and you are like "Oh crap I am about to twist my ankle" and then when your ankle is fine you're like "God, I hope no one saw me just totally lose my balance on my shoe.") So please, quit acting like I am the one with the problem because I can’t handle your friendly dog. It’s downright scary when an animal you have never seen before is bounding toward you at a high rate of speed. The least you could do is say “I’m sorry my dog scared you” but instead you act like I’m uptight. How about if I come running straight at you and stop when I am right in your face next time I see you and when you act startled, I’ll be all, “Hey, relax, dude! Geez, I’m just being friendly!” See how you like it.

Sincerely,

Pam

The two dogs I wasn't allowed to keep

2010-07-20T20:42:00.003-06:00

Barney Barney you were so sweet
You just came up to me in the garage and wagged your tail at my feet
I didn't know where you came from or who you were
I just knew I loved your doggie smile and wiry fur
Your tag said "Barney" and gave a phone number
Do we have to call? What if the owners are in a slumber??
Dan assured me it was 9am on a weekday and surely they were awake
But I thought maybe it was a fake number, and not by mistake
Perhaps Barney's owners had a well-thought out design
to abandon their pup, and in so doing, inadvertently make him mine?
Dan kept a straight face while he listened to my theory
But he insisted we call the number and make a query
As to whether Barney was their runaway pet
But it went straight to voicemail.. there was hope yet!
Maybe just maybe they'd never return the call
Oh how I wanted a dog, especially one so sweet and small!
We took him to Walnut where we ordered a meal
While sure enough Dan left the table so a look he could steal
Of Barney lying behind a potted plant, relaxing without a care
He returned with a status report "He's still lying there."
Was it possible Dan left his ham and eggs to just check on the canine?
Why was I surprised, his sensitivity to living creatures is truly sublime
Even if he acts like he doesn't care, not one single bit
I know Dan is completely full of sh*t.

The same thing happened today when Rocky stepped into our yard
To love his happy little Blue Heeler face really wasn't hard
Dan suggested we take him for a walk this afternoon
But if I were to mention his affection for Rocky, he'd turn a shade of maroon...
Alas his owner came, thankful we kept him safe and dry
And then I looked at Rocky, threw him one last stick and said my sad goodbye

I admit it I just want one of my own
Because it hurts so bad when they have to go home

I'm finding it hard to believe these coincidences are not something divine
It seems the universe is sending some pretty clear signs
Why else would two dogs wander into our lawn in the space of less than a week
I'm not a new-age wierdo but I believe you should listen when the universe speaks
In the meantime, here is my ode, to the two dogs I was not allowed to keep

Race Report: Boulder Peak Triathlon

2010-07-13T19:45:00.005-06:00

I rode my bike up to the race venue, using ONLY bike paths, which was pretty cool, considering the race is completely all the way on the other side of town. I got there with only about 30 minutes before they closed transition but I hurried and the only thing I forgot was to take off my watch, so I just promised myself I would not look at it (which I didn't, not even one time). I have been getting used to racing naked, I mean without a watch and I think it works MUCH better for me. It eliminates all the judge-y left brain, I am not going fast enough/I am going too fast/ I will die at this pace/There is no way I will meet my goal at this pace type stuff and all you are left to go on is how your body feels.

The 1500m swim was uneventful. I made every effort to sight often, so I pretty much stayed on course. I got out of the water and there was a big huge black clock that I could not avoid, which read 49:xx and since I got in the water 10 minutes after the first wave, I thought "39:00! That sucks!" but then I told myself to just forget about it and keep moving and sure enough I literally forgot about it. By mile 5 of the bike I was thinking "Was my swim time 38? 28? 41? Hell if I know, I totally forgot."

Transition was quick except for wrestling with my wetsuit and futzing around with my new/old shoes. I lost my triathlon shoes which I realized the day before the race, and at the last minute I still couldn't find them BUT I had just 2 days prior found my road shoes which for like 6 months I thought I lost and had totally given up on, but they were actually in with the wrapping paper (????). So when I reorganized the wrapping paper (yes I have better things to do, it just seemed important at the time), I found the road shoes, so really it was the perfect time to totally misplace my tri shoes. With just the new/old/previously buried in wrapping paper road shoes available (other than my crappy really old shoes with SPD cleats which are just for the spin bikes at the gym), all I had to do was remove my Look Pedals (which go with my tri shoes) and replace them with my Speedplay pedals (which go with the road shoes) and voila, I was in business! But the road shoes have a weird tongue so that was annoying in transition.

Bike: Dan cheered for me when I was leaving transition:) I tried to avoid going all out for the beginning because its a false flat which becomes a major hill which turns into a 15% grade lung burner that goes on for at least a mile or so, and I didn't want to ruin myself too early. When I approached the death part of the climb, I was already in my biggest cog in the back so I double checked to make sure I wasn't accidentally in my big ring but alas I had no gears left. I mananged while skinny guys with disc wheels blew by me like I was going backward. I have not done this climb in a while, so I had forgotten how hard it was. I think it's better that way, because you don't dread it as much. There was some gal next to me breathing like she was going into labor and I am not kidding. One guy was walking his bike up this beast of a hill. Once you crest it, there's a little downhill, then a little more uphill and then you can basically fly for most of the rest of the course because its a screaming descent, then a lot of flat with a tailwind. I felt really good on the second mini-climb, and then at the very end of the course when there are a few rollers and no more tailwind, I still felt really good and I kept telling myself I was having a great bike, I was strong and to just keep spinning nice and efficient. Bike average speed was 18.4mph for 42K, (is that 25 miles?) which was a significant improvement over my time in 2008. Yeah!

T2 was quick, and my legs felt ready to run. At the first mile marker there was an aid station where I chucked my bottle of Nuun. It was too annoying and and heavy to carry even though I was feeling chilled. I was not thirsty or miserable or any of the other things that usually signify dehydration but I was so cold even though it was in the 80's and sunny.... This was unsettling but I decided to ignore it and keep moving. My legs felt strong and I was passing a lot of women. I am totally obsessed with the song "Bad Romance" by Lady Gaga so that was in my head a lot. Other than "I want your love. Love love love I want your love." I thought only positive thoughts, like "You are having a great run" and "You love hills, you are good at hills" every time I would approach the base of a hill. At the turnaround I fell which was more embarrassing than painful. I kept thinking positive, knowing that without a watch I had no legitimate reason to think I was running well. However, there was no indication that I was not running well, so I went with that. I typically have no clue what my pace is judging by feel, so it made sense to me to just assume I was having the run of my life. I also had no reason to think I was not within reach of my goal, to break three hours, so I thought of that as I kept running. What if I was within seconds of reaching my goal? I could not afford to loaf... As the run grew more and more uncomfortable, I remembered some of the evil runs Coach Liz has given me and knew for a fact that I was able to suffer and I could keep going like this. Toward the end there is a short downhill stretch where I picked up the pace, and from there its about 1/4 mile to the finish. I tried to maintain my downhill pace as I heard Dan yelling "Go Pammy!" right before I turned the corner for the finish chute. I could barely see I was hurting so bad but I looked up and the clock read 3:07:xx, which meant I had finished within three hours, as I had started ten minutes back. I was willing to accept 2:59:59, so I was stoked. I have been in this sport since 2004 and for the first time I broke three hours! My run time turned out to be 50:16, an 8:08 pace, which was even better than the 8:15 I hoped to hold. Can I just say here that my PR for an open 10k is a 7:36 pace, and that was at sea level? And can I also say this is the first time I have ever had both a solid bike AND a strong run in the same race of this distance? Did I say I was stoked, because I meant I was ECSTATIC. All this time I have been doing these hard workouts from Coach Liz and thinking "Is this enough volume? I paid her, I am doing whatever she says, but seriously, this can't be enough volume!" it was working. The plan is working! Dan and I watched the pro race and cheered for our roommate (Yes, Dan convinced me to have tenants share our love nest, so far so good!), then we enjoyed hamburgers at Rueben's which you may note has gluten free buns. I got home and wheeled my bike into the garage. The first thing that caught my eye was my tri shoes which were in a clear Rubbermaid bin with Dan's climbing rope (?????) It was a good day.

Oops I did it again...

2010-07-09T15:01:00.005-06:00

I just couldn't help myself.
I had the best of intentions.
I was going to be all "tunnel vision."
But I was weak.
I surrender. I am no match for the Boulder Public Library system.

The plan was to drop my dozen or so overdue books off at the library drop slot, head straight home, and start on making dinner. After all, the salmon I had just picked up at the market was in my backseat... However it was an unusually cool summer day. Would a few minutes in the car really hurt a couple of super fresh Alaskan salmon steaks... As I deposited my books through the slot, I noticed the library was still open. For all the poor people who live in towns where budget cuts have necessitated reduced library hours, I felt it was my civic duty to exercise my freedom to use my local library. Ok I am lying. I just felt sad that I had to say goodbye to my stack of books, especially the ones I had not yet had a chance to read.

As it turned out, my eyes were bigger than... my eyes. I just didn't have time to read all my treasures. For the ones I did get to, here is a brief review:

"Green River, Running Red" Ann Rule- I give it a solid B. This is now the fourth one I have read by her, but it just didn't compare to the others. While the others had me up till 2 and 3 in the morning on work nights, this one took me a while to get through. It just didn't have the psychological suspense I had come to expect. It was however a tribute to the many victims of the Green River killer and their families and that was touching.

"How to be Single" Liz Tucillo- A+!! I couldn't put this one down. Tucillo is a RIOT. She co-wrote "He's Just Not That Into You." This one is actually fiction. I would call it a meta-book... The premise is there is this single gal in NYC who is writing a book on how women handle being single and over 35 in various cultures, so she travels the world to do field research.

"Open" Andre Agassi- C+ . I liked this one at first. For maybe the first half to three quarters of the book, I was like "Aww, poor Andre Agassi, he had a mean dad who forced him to play tennis, Aww he had to go to tennis academy where the food was awful and the other kids were mean, Awww, he had to grow up and be famous before he was even 18 years old, Awww all the pressure..." but then I got kind of sick of feeling bad for the tennis great. Admittedly I am not familiar with pro tennis, I never read so much as an interview with Agassi before, and I don't really know how the game is played. That being said, I got the feeling Agassi had a major agenda which was a thinly veiled "Look this is MY side of the story, goddamnit! Everyone screwed me, now its my turn to tell you how it really is." And it felt really egotistical to me. I wanted to be like "Ok Andre, you're famous, you're misunderstood, we get it. Is this book really making you feel better? Wouldn't a bigger person be letting this stuff go?" I am not saying I let everything (ok, anything) go. But I vent about it to my sister and Dan, not the whole world in a book that I didn't even write but pretended I did! Oh yeah that's another thing- Agassi's name is all over the front of the book, like where the author's name would be. And its all in a first person narrative. And as I am reading it I am getting more and more suspicious, thinking "Ok, here is a guy who didn't finish ninth grade, he doesn't have the discipline to even practice tennis on a consistent basis, engage in cross training on a consistent basis, or eat healthy most of the time and I am supposed to believe he had the drive to sit down and write a 300 page book?" And then you get to the acknowledgements and here is where he acknowledges that someone else wrote his "autobiography." (PS Andre, I think you got "acknowledgements" confused with "confessions." This part of the book is to thank people, not to admit you are a fraud). Oh and I got really annoyed when he trashed Brooke Shields, his first wife. It just seemed babyish to me. And I did not appreciate all the times he talked about how good it felt to help other people. Of course it feels good to help other people. Duh. Actually in my opinion all overpaid famous people, especially professional athletes, should set up trusts and charitable organizations for marginalized populations, but I digress. I am just saying the whole "I am so nice! I really am a nice famous person!" thing got old fast. I skimmed through the last two chapters because I had already invested too much time to just put the book down.

Anyway, I dropped those off plus all the ones I didn't get to and like a magnet to steel I was drawn in, through the front doors and into the "New Non-Fiction" section. From there I perused "Non-Fiction" and did a brief walk about through "Fiction," and when my HUGE canvas grocery bag was about to overflow I went to the check-out desk.

Selections:
"Get Started in Beekeeping." Pretty self-explanatory. This one was for Dan because he has expressed an interest in keeping bees in our yard. Also, I want the honey and I don't want to do the work. There, I said it.

"Green Living by design." Another one for Dan.

"Living with Goats." As above... Dan has also expressed an interest in keeping goats. I didn't have the time or the inclination to skim the content but I am betting on the truism that sometimes the more you know, the more you realize something isn't the best idea. Just sayin'...

"Frommer's Costa Rica" For both of us. Because we are going! In December! As our honeymoon!

"A Gate at the Stairs" by Lorrie Moore. Because I had returned it without getting a chance to read it and felt so happy that there was another copy I could take, as I was not allowed to renew it once again.

"Animal Vegetable Mineral" by Barbara Kingsolver. See above.

"Every Last One" by Anna Quindlen. Fiction, something about an abusive family... I liked the cover and the first couple sentences, which is usually a good indicator that I will like the book. I remembered really liking "Black and Blue" by her which I believe was an Oprah book ca. 1998, which is I think about the time that I read it.

"Going Rogue: An American Life" by Sarah Palin. This was kind of embarrassing but it was FREE and I am just SO curious what she has to say. I considered saying something to the librarian like "It's not for me." or "I was just curious! I don't like her!" but then I thought it would be better not to draw attention to it and said nothing. I felt remarkably like my 17 year old self when purchasing tampons when I got up to the checkout counter.

"The Road to Wealth" by Suzy Orman. I got this because I wanna be rich. And mostly because I have a pretty basic understanding of stuff like a Roth IRA, simple IRA, traditional IRA, 401k, but I have a ways to go before I really understand all the different things you can do with money. It would be nice to have retirment planning conversations with Dan and have a response in my repertoire other than "Whatever you think, babe." I feel sort of naked without an opinion to share, that's all.

"Who Killed My Daughter" by Lois Duncan. A true crime novel that looked pretty good. After all, no trip to the library is complete without a book about a woman getting murdered. I am only half-kidding.

Green FAIL!

2010-06-21T21:48:00.002-06:00

I was so happy today because I took the bus to and from work. Then when I went out to meet a girlfriend this evening I decided to take my bike downtown. Yessss! Two non-car modes of transportation in one day! No use of car! At all! I was giving myself a major pat on the back, not just for being so environmentally conscious but also for managing to wear a dress and pedal my road bike (note to self: get a cruiser bike for God's sake. In a fun cheerful color). And then I remembered, the only reason I get to do these things is because I live where I live, in a city with an exceptionally well developed bike path system and a very easy to use bus system, in house that is steps from the bike path and a block from the bus stop, which also happens to be over a thousand miles from my family which equals extra air travel on top of extra air travel for Dan too = I might as well move back to Rhode Island and drive a Hummer. Dang it!!!

Race Report: 5430 Sprint Triathlon

2010-06-20T17:10:00.002-06:00

I was really fired up about this race. Although I had not planned it as an "A" race (that was supposed to be the Barkin' Dog), I felt like I needed this race to prove my biking did not suck, and that I could still run well after a strong bike. The swim, I was not so confident about, but that is par for the course.

For the first time in a long time, I had a lot of trouble sleeping before the race. As annoying as that was, I took it as a sign that I had mojo back, or whatever you want to call it. Do people even say mojo anymore? I had my fire back, my desire to just go for it, and I was nervous. I like those butterflies and I was wondering if they were ever going to come back.

Morning finally came and I was up having my breakfast of instant oatmeal, a handful of granola, blueberries and coffee, sans Sunday paper(s). I was up so early the papers had not come yet:( I scooted off on my bike into the cool morning air as the sun glowed from east, turning the Flatirons orange-pink. It was already a good day and nothing had even happened. My ride over to the reservoir was only 8 miles, which I took slow for the most part. I feel so lucky to live in a town where I can ride my bike to a race! And even better, on the way back, Dan showed me how to do it 100% on bike paths. No roads! Amazing. The race was touted as a "zero waste event" but it was sort of a joke. Before 5430 Sports sold this race series to Ironman it really was a zero waste thing and they made a huge deal out of it. I got the impression that Ironman agreed to the concept as just part of the negotiation and they don't really care about it, and that was sad. You know what else was sad? The lame-o swag bag. Talk about waste! I will not use any of that stuff, including the stupid T-shirt. When will race directors learn I WILL NOT WEAR A T-SHIRT THAT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE A 12 YEAR OLD BOY. IT IMMEDIATELY GOES TO GOODWILL OR BECOMES A BIKE RAG. Also, it was sad that I spent about as much time waiting in lines as I did actually racing. Ironman needs to get their act together, big time. Since when does zero-waste mean you have to come to the event the day prior to pick up your packet (hello, people had to make another trip all the way from Denver and farther in many cases!). Stupid. I try not to rant or be negative on my blog (I save that for you, Dan, you lucky bastard), but seriously this was a cluster. Most of us had to wait in the hot sun for our packets over a half an hour on Saturday and then we had to wait while they let us enter the transition area two at a time (um, this is a race, not Noah's ark) after the race to get our stuff.

When I got to the reservoir, it was about 6:15am and already kind of warm. Yikes. I set up my transition area, did my little warm up run, and memorized and I mean memorized, walked through the transition area from all directions, I seriously memorized my spot. Unlike at the Barkin' Dog where I "memorized" my spot and proceeded to waste 90 seconds trying to find it in transition.

The race started at 7:30 and my wave went at 7:55. At first it was just a mess of arms, legs, and splashing but soon I found my rhythm and made sure to sight often. In an unprecedented turn of events I managed to stay with my wave for the entire swim! Although I was probably in the middle/back of the pack, just being within accidentally hitting/kicking distance of the pack is HUGE for me. I got out of the water not knowing how long it took me (I used the no watch strategy again), but feeling happy that I was not a total swim reject for the first time in my what is now my seventh (What? Has it been that long???) season doing this sport. In addition to not being a swim reject, even better, my husband (he he) was there at the water's edge yelling "Go Pammy!" I did not know then that he had come in late the night before and was pretty hung over. Extra points for Dan!

I jogged into transition, which felt like it took FOREVER although it turned out to be only 1:31. I was all business in there and got out fast. I hopped on my bike and rode like I was serious. No loafing! The first part of the course is a false flat for a while and then it flattens out, and then you have a sweet tailwind/slight downhill up till the last maybe 4 miles which is a little up and down with a headwind, but nothing to slow you down too much. Nothing exceptional happened on the bike except that I managed to drink almost my entire bottle (this is rare for me) and I passed a lot of people. When the course got flattened out or went downhill I remembered not to coast and kept the effort level high regardless. I was not going to end up with another disappointing bike split. I just wasn't going to, period. There was Dan again at the Bike Dismount Line cheering for me with zeal. His cheering made me smile, which interfered with my "Don't mess with me" persona but it was only for a few seconds, so probably no one even noticed...

I got into and out of transition as quick as possible and got out there on the run. Dan was there to give me a boost running out of transition, too. My wave was the first female wave to get into the water (following five male waves) so I was running with hordes of men. The course was out and back and it was all men plus your odd extremely fast woman coming back at me. All I could think was "It's Raining Men!" and that song played in my head for the duration of the run. My head was pretty much a constant monologue of Go Go Go. Its Raining Men. Pass her. God Bless Mother Nature. Pass him. She's a single woman too. Pick up the pace. She took down from heaven. And she did what she had to do, (yeah). Hold it here. Tall blonde dark and lean. Yeah, water. Oooh feels so good on my head. Rough and tough and something something. Go for it. Go for it. Breathe breathe. It's Raining Men. Hallelujah its Raining Men. Turn the legs over. Fast turnover. Every Specimen. Don't waste the downhill. Pick it up. Almost there. Want to puke now. Smile, Dan is taking a picture. Not going to puke. Pass that guy. Not going to puke, just run. FINISH! The clock read 2:00:something. My stupid hypoxic brain figured it out- I started 25 minutes into the race, so that meant I finished in 1:35:something which meant this was just what I wanted but even a little faster than I thought I was capable of! YEAH!

It turned out I swam the 750 meters in 16:50. This is HUGE for me. Previously my PR for this distance was 19:01. I was not expecting that I had improved this much (or at all, actually. Thanks Coach Liz for making me do all those boring drills!!!). Maybe the course was short, you never know BUT I was actually swimming amid other green caps so I know something good happened. My bike time for 17 miles was 51:22 (20.1 mph), just where I hoped to be, and my run was 24:45 (7:59 pace). The run was slower than I had thought I was capable of but still represents and improvement of 10 seconds per mile over my previous sprint triathlon 5k time, so I'll take it. Especially considering it was HOT, there was no shade and I was starting to get a chill. My total time was 1:35:42, which put me at 25/121 in my AG and 93/555 among overall women. Yeah!

Afterglow

2010-06-10T09:19:00.002-06:00

The wedding was awesome, now I am sitting here writing thank you notes... Except how do you thank someone for a gift when you aren't sure what it is?
A) "Thanks for that awesome thing you gave me."
B) "Thank you for the gift." (Actually my family had a good laugh over a thank you note my parents received a few years ago using those very words.)
C) "I love that metal thing but give me a call when you get a minute and let me know what it is, please."
D) "Thank you for the creamer." God, please let it be a creamer.
I'm going with D...

Confessions of a Book Slut

2010-05-20T20:59:00.003-06:00

I love books. I love the way they feel, I love the way they look, and I love the way they smell. I never want to read a book on a Kindle or an iPad. I just love books. I love getting into a book to the point where you absolutely can't wait to finish it yet you never want to put it down. I was part of a book club once, but I quit because there are too many good books and too little time to have someone else dictate my reading choices. Upsides were great food and wine and I did get a date out of the book club, but then it didn't work out so it probably would have been awkward to go back to book club anyway.

I also love libraries. When I first moved to Boulder and I had time to kill between looking at apartments, I stopped at the library. I knew then that I had moved to the right place. The main branch is beautiful, modern, and huge. At that time it even had a coffee shop. Now that we have moved I am not as close to the main library but I am about a mile from one of the smaller branches, which is fine because you can have the library collect your choices and gather them for pick-up at any branch you want. I was pretty positive Dan and I were going to eventually get married pretty quickly after meeting him but it was solidified the night we were sitting in bed, browsing the library site for books we wanted to place a hold on. I passed the laptop to him so he could log into his account. Since it was my computer, the cookies didn't know his account number. No worry. He had it memorized. My heart was aflutter.

Anyway now that we are finally about to get married, I am really excited about the wedding but I am also excited about our trip back east for the big day. I am not I repeat I am NOT bringing any work. I might maybe bring my laptop but that is a STRONG maybe, leaning toward no. I am going to use the long plane ride to READ. When I am getting ready for bed in the upstairs guestroom while Dan is sequestered from me in the downstairs guest room (Don't ask. It's my parents' rule) and my sister can't stay over because she has to work the next day I am going to leave the light on as long as I want to so I can READ and I cannot wait!!

Reading List
Green River Running Red, Ann Rule (I LOVE LOVE LOVE her. She writes true crime mostly about girls and women getting murdered and I am usually up till 1 and 2 in the morning reading her stuff because it is impossible to put down!!!)

Animal Vegetable Mineral, Barbara Kingsolver. I have been wanting to read this one since I saw Kingsolver give a talk at the Festival of the Book at Duke (blech, I can't believe I said Duke on my blog but that's where the Festival was, what was I supposed to do, boycott the BEST FREE LITERARY EVENT EVER ? I think not) in 2006. This is about how she and her family committed to eating local for a year.

How to Be Single, Liz Tuccillo I think this is fiction, I am not really sure. I liked the cover, the book jacket and the first couple of pages. It looked funny/interesting.

Juliet, Naked, Nick Hornby. I have pretty much loved all his stuff. He is really funny. I can't wait to get into this one.

Open, Andre Agassi. You know what this is unless you live under a rock. Looks intriguing and I heard it was good although I don't remember who told me that. I read a few pages of it in the airport bookseller a few weeks ago and decided I would like to read it someday.

A Gate at the Stairs, Lorrie Moore. I read one by her called "Anagrams " or "Who Will Run the Frog Hospital" (or maybe both? I can't remember) in like the ninth grade and I forgot all about her and then I saw this and remembered how much I enjoyed her other stuff. Don't ask me what I liked about it, it was so long ago, I just remembered it was good.

Where Men Win Glory, Jon Krakauer. I really liked his book "Into Thin Air" so I think I will like this one even though its about the military which really never has held my interest before. Still though, he is a good story teller and it seems like an intriguing expose.

Nothing

2010-05-13T23:11:00.004-06:00

I'm thinking I should blog. But I have nothing to blog about. You might as well stop reading. Stop. Seriously. Nothing to read here. (It's true, Dan is out of town so he hasn't worn any stupid outfits I can make fun of (that I know of), I haven't gotten lost lately, and training has been going good but unfortunately I am just not finding much about triathlon very blog-worthy lately. Some stuff my patients have said/done is freaking hilarious/wierd but I don't want to be unprofessional on the internet so there goes that whole genre). This is what its going to be like when I am supposed to say my vows at our wedding, which is now in just a few weeks. Everyone's going to look at me like they are expecting me to say some vows which I should have previously created and I'm going to be like... It's Dan's turn. And then it will be my turn and I'll be like "What he said." Or more likely at the last minute right before the ceremony I will ask Dan if we can nix the saying our own vows thing because I couldn't think of what to say. But that will make me look like a jerk so I really don't want to do that. But the big day is getting close and no words are coming. I know, right? Me. No words. Unbelievable. I could be like "Last night I dreamed we were going to go kayaking in this gorgeous blue ocean but instead I wanted us to bike up Mt. Lemmon because I guess we must have been in Tuscon, even though that makes no sense because of the ocean, but anyway it was a dream, so we were getting our bikes all ready to climb up Lemmon but then I don't think in the dream we actually ever did, but the point is I bet that's a lot like marriage, right? A long, hard, grinding climb, but its worth it because when you get to the top there's a great view and you get to descend super fast which is really the best part. And as far as Lemmon specifically, the last time I was there I had the best piece of pie of my entire life at a little diner at the top, and I hope to God its still there in case I ever get back. Couldn't you go for coconut cream pie? I wouldn't even care if it was not gluten free, I would eat it, crust and all and enjoy every last bite." But that's stupid. I am so not saying that in front of 100+ people. You didn't even enjoy reading that did you, and all it cost you was 12 seconds of your time. People are flying in for this. They expect more than just awesome hors d'eurves and dancing. And not just people, but Dan, specifically. I snared him and now I can't think of anything to even say to him. Ok snare was maybe not the right word, that sounds like I trapped him or something. He knew what he was getting into, I didn't fool him or anything. I never liked mornings, I don't really function without coffee and he knows I don't shovel. Well not that I wouldn't. I just haven't. I guess I could... Anyway that is not the point. (And ps why am I even talking about shoveling in mid-May? Because its been freaking cold and snowing that's why. Yeah I am a little peeved that I had to wear neoprene booties on my ride this afternoon. In May. WTF, Mother Nature!?) The point is the wedding is approaching and I have no vows. I went on the internet to try and find some but then I realized that a) most of the stuff there was stupid b) TheKnot.com had some good ideas but they were just ideas, you still have to write em yourself and c) If I just copied and pasted something from the internet it doesn't count as writing one's own vows. Where is my creative muse!??! I need her, stat.

Race Report: Barkin' Dog Duathlon (3mi run/34k bike/3mi run)

2010-05-09T22:32:00.003-06:00

Race morning was very cold and sunny. My teeth chattered as I warmed up along the banks of the Cherry Hill reservoir. [Hey, May? It's been over a week now. I've been waiting for you, just so you know.] I had brought my neoprene booties just in case but I did not want to have to waste time in transition, messing with getting them on and off. I had not trained my ass off for the past four months just to waste a minute or two making sure I'd be able to feel my feet. I had a plan, I was ready to execute it and it did not involve booties.

I lined up with all the other 34 and under women and before I knew it we were off. For maybe the first time ever, or at least the first time I can remember, I was racing naked. As in watchless. I had my heart rate monitor, but that was for the sole purpose of just keeping things in check on the bike. Moving the display to elapsed time is a pain and the numbers are so small its hard to see them when you are jostling around. So essentially I had no watch. My coach's advice was that it could distract me and Dan agreed that to get a different result I should think about doing something different and that is how I ended up watchless. It would turn out to be a liberating decision.

I was shocked at first to see all the girls clustered together up in the front as we started out- everyone from the intimidatingly fit looking "I'm here to win" girls to the wide bottomed thick-thighed types, all of them were clumped together in the front. I wanted to sprint up there and hang with everyone else but I had a plan damnit and it did not involve going out too hard. This race would take me an hour and 50 minutes, (I hoped), which is quite a long time to be all out sprinting. I've done that before and it always ends in a death shuffle. Not fun. I would take it nice and easy, at a moderately hard pace but not all out, and I would not worry about the other girls. Slowly but surely I reeled in a bunch of girls over the three mile run, noting that most of them were breathing really hard as I passed them. Goody. I finished the first three miles feeling good, not having any idea what my time was. I later found out my split was 22:40, a 7:34 pace, which was right on track with my goal pace of 7:40. Yeah!

I wasted no time in transition and was out of there in less than a minute (why does it take me so long to get out of the house, then???) and onto my bike. I was quickly re-acquainted with the seams in the road, which I had originally noticed when I drove the course earlier in the week. Every 2-3 seconds there was another one- CA-JUNK! I have never been ca-junked so many times within such a short period. My crotch was getting beat up pretty bad but that wasn't the worst part. I was so mad at myself for taking my aerodrink. I knew there were seams in the road yet I failed to make the connection- bumps in road = aerodrink contents on face, handlebars, shifters, hands, not in mouth. Every time a splash of drink would start to evaporate from my chin another would soak the lower portion of my now electrolyte and maltodextrin rich face. Maybe it was an exfoliant? Mainly it was severely annoying. I was growing a Heed beard. At least it was clear. Thank you Hammer for not adding artificial colors to your drinks. I guessed at least a quarter of my drink got on my face and not in my mouth. Dang it. The first loop went along well except when a few girls passed me. Again I figured it was early in the race and I would catch up to them later. I never did. The first loop was not as fast as I would have liked, and I set out on the second loop a little disappointed. The wind had turned and now where there had been a tailwind there was a head wind. Double dangit! Meanwhile some girl in a light blue top had passed me on one of the hills earlier. I had her in my sights now. I'm coming for you blue girl... We played that leap frog game throughout most of the bike, which gave me something to focus on beside how much my quads were burning, that my heart rate was rarely under 150 (the plan was to keep it under 150), and how I was nowhere near my goal of knocking this ride out in just over an hour. At the turnaround I looked down at my computer and the number 34:00 glared back at me. Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit. This day was not going how I wanted. I wasn't going to look but I couldn't help it. I'm learning that little gadgets like watches and timers and stuff are really useful for taking me out of the present. I tried to focus on getting back into the game. At some point I got a second wind, my mood lifted a little and I kept trying to drink the Heed that was left in my aerodrink. I entered the transition area and was shocked to find I had no idea where my bike rack was. I had even memorized my spot (or so I thought!). I stood there like an idiot just looking around for my bright pink towel and my sneakers. I couldn't fathom someone had stolen my towel and shoes but then again where the hell were they!? I was going crazy, pacing around with my bike for what seemed like forever, until I finally found my spot. It wasn't forever but I wasted 2:21 in there. Argh.

Ok just 3 miles left to run. You have this. It hurts, I can't breathe, my feet are numb, my legs are like two tree trunks, but I can do this. Its three miles. Its supposed to hurt. I passed light blue girl for what would be the last time and continued to pick off several other girls who I think were in my age group. As I got to the 2 mile mark I focused on running as fast as I could and tried to ignore that fact that I couldn't get enough air. I tried to make my legs go faster but I felt like I had run out of gears. Finally I crossed the line. Done. I peeked at my watch and moved the setting from heart rate to time. Total time was about 2 hours. Yikes. My goal had been 1:50. So not what I wanted. I found out I had gotten the 34k bike done at an average speed of 17.4 mph. Huh!? I have not gone that slow in a race since like 2004 and that didn't even count because I was a beginner then and I had not trained at all. I was beside myself. How could this be? Yeah it was windy but all the other girls had wind too and there were plenty of MUCH faster times posted that day. Usually my bike split is good! In 2008 I placed 2nd in my AG at this race with the fastest AG bike split!? What was going on here??? Maybe my goal of 20 mph was a little ambitious but seriously. Less than 18? I was disappointed. I was happy with my run- I ran a 23:20 for the second 3 miles, so between the two runs I had slowed less than a minute and my time averaged out to a 7:40 pace which was my goal. I tried to focus on the positives but I couldn't help but be bummed that this race did not go as planned. I was really hoping for a result to finally validate the fact that I don't suck and that my mojo is indeed back but I guess this wasn't the race for that. This race was good for letting me know my running is progressing nicely but my bike needs some serious work. At least it is early in the season. I know I have time to get my bike fitness back. Stay tuned...

I Get Lost and Dan Bails Me Out: Part Who Even Can Count That High

2010-04-12T20:19:00.010-06:00

This weekend we were in Los Angeles for a friend's wedding. I was looking forward to my Saturday run, as I think running in a new place is a fantastic way to explore it. I was also well aware that my sense of direction is abominable and am actually beginning to wonder if maybe some crucial brain development ceased when my brother threw the 8-Ball at my head from the top of the steps when we were kids. The 8-Ball was confiscated and my brother was punished and that made me feel good, but I will never get my sense of direction back, and that frustrates me but luckily with modern technology you barely need a sense of direction these days anyway. Although it would help a lot, which I learned for like the millionth time this weekend.

So I laced up my shoes and strapped on my Garmin (which was in fact a gift from said brother, actually mostly because he was worried about me and he thought the navigation function might help, and come to think of it was this gift maybe his subtle way of apologizing for the whole 8-Ball thing?? I haven't told him this but now I guess I am telling the whole world, so Adam if you are reading this you might as well know, I don't even know how to use the navigation function. I use the Garmin for pace, distance, heart rate, and lap splits and it is one of the best gifts I have ever received, even though I don't use it for its intended function). While I was getting ready to go, I went over my route once again with our gracious host, who was trying to tell me how to get to the reservoir. It was like up the stairs, left at the cactus, right at the super modern house, then down for a while and around. "That sounds pretty straight forward. I got it." Dan looked skeptical. I insisted I understood the directions and I would be FINE. I felt like a drunk probably feels when he swears he can have ONE beer. Dan insisted I take my i phone. If I didn't love that damn phone so much I probably would have succumbed to my inner child and asserted my FINE-ness once more, just to be defiant, but instead I agreed it probably wouldn't hurt to have the mapping software (just in case, because like I said I was FINE).

So with my phone in hand, I stepped out into the glorious oxygen (and smog) filled sea level air and started my journey. And oh my god did it feel good. When I come down to sea level I realize just how much training at altitude makes me feel like I am breathing through a straw. This was pure heaven. I could breathe! I COULD BREATHE! Big, deep, decadent, luxurious breaths of oxygen-rich AIR. With green stuff all around! Trees, leaves, bushes, stems, cacti, it was all gloriously green! I'd forgotten how much my eyes love the sight of green. When I wasn't enjoying the green lushness of the landscape, I was admittedly staring at my phone, trying to figure out where I was and how to get to the reservoir. It was like they were trying to hide it or something, it was so tricky to find, but with the help of Google Maps I made it to the reservoir and there I was able to run without the nuisance of worrying about where I was. All I had to do was keep the water on my left. Which I did except when I messed up at one point and ended up, well, somewhere, I don't know where really but I eventually made it back to the reservoir. I was so happy! My legs felt light and free and with all this air I was able to run FAST! According to my Garmin, I was running between a 7:30-8:15 pace and I wasn't even out of zone 1. I was fantasizing about moving to LA and running fast every day when I completed my second loop around the reservoir and decided this was getting old and the best thing to do would be to check out different parts of the neighborhood. The only way to go was up. And it just kept going.. up and up and up and up. When I finally crested the hill, I paused to enjoy the view.
Then I went down for a while andaround. I looked at my watch. I meant to run for about an hour and I was at the 45 minute mark so I consulted my phone. My battery was getting low so I was trying to be conservative about my phone use (and picture taking, but it was just so pretty I couldn't help taking a few) but I had no idea where I was. Luckily Google maps knew exactly where I was. I mapped out some directions to get me back and I resumed the run. Everything was going well until I got to a place where there was supposed to be a road but there was just someone's fenced yard. A nice dog walking man approached me to see if I needed any help. I told him where I was trying to go and he told me how to get there. I remember him saying something about "left and down" but as I headed left, the only way to go was up and up some more. I felt confident that I was getting closer when Dan called. I was totally in the zone, charging up this hill while my battery was slowly dying so I kept it brief. In between panting for breath I told him I was fine and I would be back soon, and the map was great, not to worry. Until a few blocks later, when I realized I was actually getting farther from where I wanted to be and actually I need to own up to something here. I don't just have a bad sense of direction. I also have a really hard time reading maps. It has gotten better over time, especially within the past 5 years, which is about the time I actually started learning how to read them (My prior rationale being, why use a map when you can just get a cue sheet? Who needs a map when you live in a place like Rhode Island where there are no street signs and all the landmarks are stuff that used to be there 20+ years ago, e.g., Go left where Sears used to be). So anyways, yes I have made it my business to read maps more, and I actually like looking at maps to learn a new place, but it remains an area for personal development. I was getting really confused and frustrated. I was thirsty and I didn't feel like running all morning. I had to pace myself. There was a wedding later on and I was not about to bonk before the main event. And did I mention there were hills? They were like this:

Running around here made me realize why that show I may or may not really enjoy that takes place in the Los Angeles valley is called "The Hills" It's not that I'm a quitter. I mean I have done two ironmans and not fast. Quitters don't do that. Its that I am (at times) a realist. The facts were:
I was lost.
Every road was super curvy so nothing made sense.
I didn't feel like doing any more hills just to realize I went the wrong way.
My phone was dying and I was afraid I would miss my window to call Dan to come get me.
I didn't want to miss what promised to be an amazing brunch.
I still had not had any coffee and I knew there was some back at the house.

So I called Dan and told him what corner I was at. I heard Dan repeat it to our host as they pulled up Google maps and heard our host say "She's all the way over there?" While I waited for Dan, I stretched and watched all the hot little sports cars go by. Every car that wasn't a sports car gave me hope that it could be Dan, as I had no idea from what direction he would be coming and I had pretty much forgotten everything about our rental car except that it was silver and not a convertible or a minivan.

Finally he came for me. I bounced into the car and we giggled about how I always end up in this situation and he always bails me out and thank God for him, etc. But seriously, thank God for him. I always wanted to marry someone who was smart, kind, funny, and patient, but I forgot to add to my checklist needs to be able to put up with me and my sense of direction. Thank you, universe for taking care of that for me by sending me Dan.

The blogs are scaring me

2010-04-09T20:32:00.003-06:00

Lately, people have been asking me and Dan if we plan to start a family. Who are "people"? Just... people. Like the guy who knocked on our door the other day and promised he wasn't selling anything just that he had lived here years ago and he was curious what new renovations had been done since he moved out in the early 90's and could he have a peek. During the grand tour, he also happened to tell us how much he paid for the house in 1985 and how much he sold it for in 1995 and then I went in the bathroom and cried. Ok, not really, but I wanted to. Or our next-door neighbor. We dropped over a couple of weeks ago to invite him to our housewarming party and introduce ourselves (no, the neighbors did not come in droves bearing homemade cookies and casseroles the day they saw our moving truck. Not a one. We did have one neighbor come over the day after we moved in partly to welcome us to the neighborhood but mostly to let us know our floodlight shines directly into his bedroom window and could we please turn it off at night). So anyhow we're standing on our neighbor's front stoop, and he's like "Do you you have any kids?" and Dan cheerfully (as always) said "Not yet!" while I turned white and shook my head. As the story goes- the story being the one said neighbor told (repeatedly from what I heard) at our party, laughing "One of them said 'Not yet!' enthusiastically and while the other one gave him a dirty look."

Well let me just clear a few things up. One of them is worried about peak oil, a possible water shortage in the southwest, and the stock market, prefers to watch stuff like "The Daily Show" and reads financial blogs with names like Calculated Risk . The other one is worried about what heart rate she is supposed to be training in, whether she can press snooze one more time and still make it to work on time even if the coffee maker messes up again and she has to hit Vic's on the way, prefers to watch stuff like "If I can Dream" and "The Bachelor" and reads mostly triathlon blogs and few mom blogs. When and if a pregnancy occurs, one will be trying to stay out of the way of some nasty moods and demanding requests (not really an adjustment) and the other one will be bloated and hormonal (more than normal).

And another thing. Imagine if you watched Fox "News" all day long. Wouldn't you be scared? After a while you might be terrified of national healthcare and social programs and a black president... No never mind that is a really bad analogy because Fox doesn't broadcast actual news and I think the anchors are fake. They all look like Stepford Wives to me, except the men who look kind of like Ken dolls. And they are trying to scare you, that is their whole point. And just for the record, don't get the wrong idea, I don't actually watch Fox news. I don't even have a TV, remember? I just catch bits of it here and there, sometimes at the gym, and usually in patients' hospital rooms. So no, let me try again here... Reading these mom blogs.. and the triathlon blogs too, considering many of the authors are moms, those scare the BEJEEZUS out of me. I read Ann Rule before bed, so it's not like any stupid thing will scare me. I know its not about me but when I read these blogs that are like I feel guilty not being with my kid because I am training/I couldn't work out because my kid vomited/My peers think I am a bad mom because I train a lot/People are telling me the baby will fall right out if I run during pregnancy, I want to comment "Please stop scaring me!!!!" But I leave the comment field blank because obviously they have enough to worry about without being concerned or more likely annoyed that some grown woman finds their blog scary. And then there's the other type of blog that I try to avoid but like a lot of my favorite blogs and tv shows, they have that train-wreck like quality about them that makes you not be able to help but stop and stare, those ones that are like My child is the best thing ever/ My child is the most beautiful perfect creature in the world/I did not understand love until this person came into my life, those are like Kirsten Dunst times 1000. In other words, gag me with a spoon. ps I hate Kirsten Dunst. I think she is plain looking, mildly attractive at best and has no talent for acting and when I see her in a movie it makes me mad that I can't have her part.

And that's just the blogs. Actual people are just as scary, if not moreso. I was on a plane once and I heard this lady in the row in front of me telling her seat mate "Having a child is like having your heart beating outside your chest." Gee, where can I sign up? Or one of my patients in the hospital today who told me "Having kids flips your life upside down. You can't just wait to do laundry when you are down to your last pair of underwear when you have kids." I wanted to ask her why not but I didn't. A few years ago I was having dinner at a friend's house. We sat down with her husband and two wee ones (one of whom was having some kind of conniption fit about not wanting to eat his dinner) and I asked my friend "Hey do you ever feel like..." and she interrupted me to say "Like slitting my wrists? Yes. All the time." (If I remember correctly the wee one ate 4 bites of dinner and then he got an ice cream and my friend's wrists remain intact).

I am not saying I don't like kids. I mean, I was one. Kids are great. Some are exceptionally cute, especially my niece. The children are our future. I am just saying I'm scared of having them and no one seems to care, especially the internet. I know the best thing I could do for myself if I do intend to someday have a family is lay off the blogs. But seriously. There is work to be procrastinated and lots of it. I don't think I will be breaking the blog habit anytime soon.

Thank you for the lovely fire extinguisher(s)

2010-03-28T18:55:00.003-06:00

Last night we had a housewarming party. Sorry if you are reading this and weren't invited it's probably because I hate you, as we invited virtually everyone we know. Just kidding. If I know you and didn't invite you its probably only because I forgot or didn't have your email address. Anyway, it was a very successful potluck. What makes a party "successful" you ask? Lots of things, among them, the PDDF (Pam Dessert Degeneration Factor), or how quickly did I go from "not going to eat any desserts because my wedding is in about two months" to "just going to try that one that looks really good, anyway two months is actually kind of a long time" to "OMG I don't hardly have room for that eighth dessert.. which means yes of course I have a little room for that banana cream pie... did someone say chocolate ice cream? Wedding? What wedding??"

When the pesto pasta, potstickers, pudding cakes, and pinot noir were put away, the last crumbs swept up, and the empty bottles collected in the recycle bin, we went through the presents. There were the usual suspects; bottles of wine, especially nice bottles of wine, scented candles.. and then we opened a tissue paper covered rectangle which revealed... a fire extinguisher. And then we opened a gift bag full of tea accoutrements, and then I remembered the neon green gift bag I left in the basement. Which contained none other than.. a second fire extinguisher. Two fire extinguishers? Is that a little wierd? Its what I would have expected of my brother, but our friends? Do they know how accident prone I am? Is that what this is about? Is this a normal thing for someone to give to another adult who is neither their sibling nor their offspring? (Our third fire extinguisher was a gift to Dan from his parents when he bought his condo years ago). Three fire extinguishers!? Is it me or is this excessive? Yesterday, Dan asked me just how many serving platters we need and if we can start to pare down once we have "enough." Whatever that means. I looked at him blankly. (I mean hello, the bamboo serving tray is perfect for breakfast in bed and/or shuttling food out to the patio, once we have some patio furniture. Or for our as yet unborn children to take their Eggo waffles and pizza bagels down to the basement where they can watch their alloted daily hour of TV on the television we don't yet have.. And the red serving tray is festive and meant for appetizers at parties, while the white one is better for chicken, turkey, or prime rib on holidays, and the white one with the blue flowers is more of a dessert tray, I think). So anyway, I get what Dan means about paring down. When it comes to fire extinguishers, not necessarily other stuff.

Agnostic maybe starting to think there could be a god

2010-02-23T22:03:00.000-07:00

Last night when I was driving home from a friend's in Denver, my driver's side window started acting funny. I noticed it was cracked open which was weird because it was a) freezing out and b) I didn't remember touching it, but anyway, I hit the window up button and nothing happened.. Maybe the window was frozen to the door or something? I kept driving, intermittently trying to get my window to go up when suddenly I heard "Ker plunk." That is the sound of a 2003 Jetta driver's side window falling akimbo into the door. What does "falling akimbo" mean, you might be wondering... It means the window kind of flipped on its side and fell in so that the corner was facing up... Kind of like when your sliding closet door goes off track only you are driving on I-25 at night in the dead of winter with cold air blowing in your face, and you still have 35 minutes at least till you get home. You have the heat blasting, your wool hat on and your hood up but you are freezing and terrified so you decide not to try and mess with the window any more, lest it shatter into a million pieces into your freezing lap and you really want to get home tonight.

This morning I called Safelite auto glass. Luckily they could come to my work and fix it onsite. Not so luckily, they couldn't get out till tomorrow. That left me with two choices for today. Drive to work and leave my car with the window wide open in a public parking lot or drive Dan's car to work. After much deliberation I chose the latter. The problem with Dan's car is that it has a standard tranmission. My experience with driving his car thus far included a lot of cursing, holding my breath, and yelling "What f---ing gear am I in!? WHAT GEAR!? WHERE IS THIRD?" That was my role anyway. Dan's role was to gently coach me, to encourage me and to kindly inform me of what gear I was in. I wasn't sure what I would do without him on my first solo mission.

I decided to go for a little test drive. I took the car around the block and even made a three point turn when I got to a dead end. "I think I can do this!" I told myself. Positive self-talk is key. I got to the end of our street and put my blinker on to turn left onto the main road. As soon as I saw someone in my rearview I thought better of my decision and put on my hazards instead. She kindly pulled up next to me, rolled down her window and asked if I was ok. I thanked her and said I was just learning to drive the car. For the first time in my life, I hoped that she would think I was 16 and just learning to drive, period, as I felt that would knock down the embarrassment factor a few notches. As it turned out, my first victory was imminent, as I successfully turned left up a slight hill. Ok just 25 more miles to go... I could do this. I left my hazards on just in case. Then as I approached each red light I crawled as slow as I could and gave dirty looks in my rearview mirror to any vehicle that dared come within 20 feet my car, lest I have to stop and start again, aka) recipe for distaster, as I really had to be at work and did not budget time for stalling. Nor had I even come close to finishing my coffee.

As I continued cruising south on 93 I started to feel pretty confident. Not confident enough to turn off my hazards, mind you, but ok to mess with the radio. But it was set to some AM fuzzy station and I was going to have to mess with my drink holder to find KBCO and all of a sudden I got really nervous and turned the radio right off. But even so I was doing ok. But just in case I prayed that anyone behind me would note my hazard lights and stay very far back because otherwise I might have a total panic attack.

And then the inevitable happened. I stalled at the intersection of 6 and Colfax. It was a proverbial red light on a hill and I had no choice but to stop. When I tried to go again, I killed the engine. So I tried again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. I lost count of how many light cycles I missed after about 4. Because it was just so dang many or because my thoughts turned from "You can do this. Relax. Visualize the car going. Ok try it another way. Ok more gas. Less clutch. Less gas. More cowbell" to... Stuff I can't write on this blog, I don't know. Remember the "Everybody Hurts" video by REM and how all the people are really sad in their individual cars? Imagine a video of one adult throwing a tantrum in the car yelling very uncouth things so loud and so repetitively that it made her throat hurt, which it still does a little, over 12 hours later, and imagine the song is called "This person is totally losing her sh*t."

My state evolved from totally melting down to relieved and too out of control to even be embarrassed when a state trooper in an SUV pulled up behind me with his flashers on. He had a beard. I always imagined if there was a god, he would have a beard. Well, my god has a long white beard, but this guy's auburn beard would do just fine. In any case if he wasn't god, he was an angel sent from god. Did I mention I am an agnostic who is starting to believe there may be a god? Anyways, he comes up to my car and he's like "Are you ok?" or something and I am crying like a baby and in between sobs I'm like "This isn't my car. My car window is busted. This is my fiance's car. And I can't make it go." So he's like "Ok, take a deep breath." Then he reminded me its Tuesday, not Monday, therefore not that bad, which made me smile a little. He told me to put the car in gear. I wiped my eyes and said "It is." and then he said "It's in neutral." And then I yanked on the thing and sure enough it was in neutral. And then I got into first and I made it to work with no other problems except stalling on the way into the parking lot and arriving two minutes late, which no one seemed to mind.

On the way home, I admit I got a little cocky and even ate a banana while driving. I was quickly humbled when my car stalled again, this time in major rush hour traffic. A handsome looking guy approached my car. I admit it was kind of him to risk his safety by pulling over and crossing 2 or 3 busy lanes of traffic to try and help me but unless you're a police man, if you're a man I don't know, I am not inviting you into my car. Or Dan's car, as the case may be. Maybe I have read a few too many Ann Rule books, but I'm just sayin'. So anyway this guy asks me if I would like to have him help me get my car to the breakdown lane, so at least no one will rear end me. I said "No thank you." He said "Are you sure? You could get rear ended." I said "I know but I don't think that will happen." Then confidently, I added, "Seriously, this has happened to me before. I'll be ok." Take that, helpful hot guy! Did I mention he was hot? He was hot. Still, I knew I could do it. And I did, eventually. All the way till I got halfway into our driveway, then I tried to reverse so I could park on the street but the car stalled again and I had run out of patience and I left the car there, ran into the house, and asked Dan to please come out and park it for me because I was done. But even so, I did it, I lived, I think maybe there's a god now and also I need to tell my brother I win because when we were kids we used to try and see who could best impersonate our dad when the press broke at his scrap metal yard and he would have his moment of special rage reserved only for the press breaking, and I think I nailed it, although I was not trying to impersonate anyone.

Creepy McCreeperson (aka Creep Depot)

2010-01-11T23:42:00.005-07:00

Ok so everything was going good. Dan and I started our house hunt and after seeing like 8 properties I was like "Ok not only am I more of a princess than I even thought I was, but we are never going to find anything because of said princess problem!" Everything we saw seemed wrong somehow. The bilevel seemed somehow... wierd. The three bedroom homes just... didn't have enough bedrooms. There was one awesome one except you had to turn sideways to enter the kitchen. There was another great house, but only if you planned on having zero to a maximum of one child who would remain an infant/toddler indefinitely. Then we saw a bilevel that I thought I could learn to love and Dan was like "But you don't like bilevels!" The realtor said I was allowed to change my mind while I made a "No doy" face at Dan. I wanted to like one that was a little bigger than the others but you could hear the traffic from Foothills Parkway in the front yard which was not cool.

But then we saw the ninth property and it was like love at first sight! Hardwood floors! Remodelled kitchen with granite counters! A remodelled bathroom! Plenty of space! A totally finished basement! A brand new fence! The real estate gods smiled upon us and our offer was accepted. The realtor sent us a series of emails regarding the many tasks we must complete prior to the closing. The list grew increasingly longer and I realized that while I have put my name next to over 95% of the tasks on our wedding to do list, A) Our housing was possibly more important than our wedding day (I said possibly, people) and B) Even though I am starting to understand interest rates and points, Dan is SO much better at that stuff and therefore better equipped to handle it but even so C) I had to take a couple of things off Dan's plate so D) Instead of calling the inspector or the mortgage loan people I would E) Volunteer to look up neighborhood crime stats and collect info on any registered sex offenders in my neighborhood and btw I am now F) totally freaked out that someone will google sex offenders and find my blog.

But anyway I started to look up sex offenders and it was CREEPY. I mean creepier than running before dawn near the creek creepy. Creepier than that wierd guy I used to work with who was like my dad's age and constantly saying the most inappropriate things, to me and all the other girls, too. And rubbing up against us in inappropriate ways, and intermittently saying lewd things to our supervisor during team meetings. (No, I did not make that up. I could not make that up if I tried. I wish it was not true). Creepier than having a patient in the hospital who had a boner for like our entire occupational therapy session (which I later found out was just a penile implant, after all. Was I disappointed? Maybe a little. IS THERE A LAW AGAINST BEING CREEPED OUT AND SIMULTANEOUSLY FLATTERED? Didn't think so.)

So anyway this list is gross. I was about to link to it but then I realized I don't want to make it easier for you. If you really want it you can google it. Also I thought it was even weirder to link to the list than to say sex offender on my blog. Like I was saying, every face on there I was like "Did I see him in King Sooper's last week?" "Was that the guy I thought was looking at me funny when I was running this morning at dawn?" "OMG that guy's address IS ON THE SAME BLOCK AS WHERE I USED TO LIVE" Ew ew ew ew ew ew. I couldn't look at the whole list at once. But I will do it. I will do it because it means I get to check "Look up sex offenders" off my to do list, which means there will (hopefully) be one less thing to delay or prevent our closing, which means I will finally have what I always wanted, which is to share a home with the man of my dreams!!! Which is saccharine but true. And while it may be gross, it is NOT creepy.

The End of an Era

2009-12-13T21:30:00.004-07:00

Things are changing, and fast. Ever since Wednesday my world has been flipped upside down. Wednesday was the fateful day on which I had my first appointment with a nutrition counselor at my gym. I had been curious for a long time about what a nutrition consult could do for me. The one conclusion I typically came to after pondering this question was: It would mean less money in my pocket and a potentially dreadfully boring, bland diet. This did not entice me in the least.

Until I ran into a friend at our tri club Halloween party. He said that if he had only a finite amount of money to spend on triathlon (wait, what? We don't all have unlimited funds for Ironmans, 70.3 races, associated travel and lodging, a new westuit, the latest greatest tri bike, and of course the fastest lightest wheels, and all the requisite healthy groceries, a coach, a gym membership, and all the Hammer products you need to keep you satiated and hydrated??), that he would spend it on a nutritionist versus a coach because his nutritionist helped him TONS. I wanted to know more. He told me he was actually supposed to eat MORE after meeting with his nutritionist and he lost tons of body fat and improved his performance drastically. I thought about this for a while. Then I thought about how I want to commit this season to having the best performance possible. And yeah I admit it I thought about the fact that over a hundred people are going to be looking at me all at the same time when I get married this summer and if that doesn't make a woman want to look as good as possible, then I don't know what does. And if that makes me vain, I can't help it, I get it from my dad.

So Wednesday was the fateful day. Over the phone, Seriously Fit and Healthy (aka my nutrition counselor, heretofore known as SFH) told me she did not believe in crash diets, any quick fixes, wierd ingredients, or fads. Ok, I could get behind that. She was into small changes. I'm down with that. Her fee was about what I expected (a lot), but I was ready to commit. I arrived at our scheduled appointment with the food journal I had been diligently keeping all week, per SFH's request. I know I eat a lot of "bites of this" and "nibbles of that" and always have, but it was a real eye opener to put it all down on paper. I neither stopped nibbling nor neglected to record it, for how could SFH help me if she did not know what kind of nibble addict she was dealing with?

She went through my food journal with a critical eye, crossing out things she did not like (one lemon cookie, a bite of Dan's raspberry scone, most of half a pastrami sandwich even though was not hungry plus about 10 fries and several bites of coleslaw), and starred some of the things she liked (quinoa with veggie and tofu stir fry, salad, lowfat cottage cheese and lite peaches) and then she looked at me with her big seriously fit brown eyes and said "It's not that bad. For now I just want to make a couple of changes. Small changes. But I want you to commit to them and really really do them." I nodded. I was ready. She went on,
"First, I want you to get in the habit of measuring out your half and half, so you know how much one tablespoon is and only put that much in your coffee."
I nodded. I can do that. I might end up thinking I might as well drink it black but I can do that. I nodded again, as if daring her to give me another challenge.
"Also, you need to stop nibbling."
As obvious as it was, I needed to pay someone to tell me to do that. I figure I eat like 100-300 empty calories on any given day with all the random bites I take of random stuff but I needed professional help to take on this challenge. I nodded again. I was ready to breathe a sigh of relief. I had received my mission: Two small changes to commit to. I was ready. And then she continued,
"And also, this is going to be kind of a challenge [actually in Boulder it really is only kind of a challenge because every other person you meet is gluten-free/dairy free/sugar-free, etc] but I want you to try giving up gluten." She went on to describe all the great health benefits I may experience with this (more energy, fewer stomach aches, less bloating, less gas, lean out the midsection, what was she saying about my midsection anyway?) and how I should try it and see if it helps. I was ready to get pouty and whine "But you said two! That's THREE!" but I kept my mouth shut for once and just nodded. If that's what she wanted, I would do it. Except I did tell her I was having girls night that night and chances were high that gluten would be involved, as I was not hosting. SFH found some mercy in her seriously fit heart and said I could start tomorrow.

Thursday was uneventful, as I brought my lunch to work. I was offered a small slice of cheesecake but knew the crust had gluten and feared the slice was too small to be considered a dessert and rather a "nibble" so I politely declined. Thursday evening brought trivia at the D Note where I was sure I would be relegated to a choice of salad or salad but was delighted to find gluten-free pizza crust on the menu. It was gross but it was gluten-free. Poor Dan got to be gluten- free too. Friday was again, uneventful save for the tri club Christmas party where I accepted a passed hors d'eurve of bread with some olive tapenade before I even knew what I was doing. Oopsies. I did however avoid all other possible threats like the lasagne and the pulled pork slider, and oh the chicken quesadilla which looked so cheesy, salty, and all around good. Saturday, when we were over friends' for dinner, I ate the pecan pie but not the crust, which was surprisingly not that hard to do. I would like to say this is temporary and like SFH said, we can try it and if it doesn't help anything, I can stop but I am going to have be quite honest. It feels good not to eat bread and stuff. Good enough to do forever, I am not sure. Good enough to do while my money goes in SFH's bank account? Definitely. Goodbye unlimited half and half, nibbles and gluten. It was good while it lasted. And I know we will meet again, if only at birthdays and weddings.

Best. Boots. Ever.

2009-12-02T19:36:00.003-07:00

As you may or may not know, I have a lot of jobs. Although a lot of my work is piecemeal, filling in for a vacation day here or a sick day there, I also have one regular part-time gig. Downsides are it is only part-time, I don't get taxes taken out of my check or any paid leave or health benefits, and the place is about a 45 minute drive away. Upsides are I get to do about half of my work from home (which can actually be a downside, depending when you ask me), the commute is actually along a beautiful stretch of road (unless its snowing or windy, then it's an alternate route which is a mess of traffic lights and strip malls), my boss is AWESOME, and the work doesn't even feel like work. My AWESOME boss is almost old enough to be my grandmother and she has the energy of a 25 year old. She is funny, brilliant, and virtually always happy. I don't know how she does it. She is a phenomenal mentor, too. The work that doesn't feel like work actually stimulates my brain to the point where I practically never look at my watch and I never dread going there. In fact, I like it. I have made peace with the fact that I don't have a full time job and have fully explored all the things I am now free to write off (continuing education, mileage, etc). Overall I think its a good deal. As it is traditionally sung at the Passover seder, "Dayenu."

And then the unthinkable happened. Today my boss arrived at work with a pair of boots she can't wear anymore, thinking perhaps they were my size and that they looked like my style. I took one look at the boots and felt feelings of elation, excitement, and fulfillment that I had as yet not experienced in the workplace. If these sensations of mirth were wrong to feel at work, I did not want to be right. The boots were sublime. I tried to take a picture to post but it was like trying to take a picture of Bryce Canyon or Zion National Park (which I know because I tried a bunch of times last week). You just can't capture the beauty in a photo. You try and try but you just can't do it justice. The boots are a rusty shade of brown with 3.5 inch heels and a narrow (but not pointy) toe box. They are constructed of a suede which is soft, yet durable, slouchy yet firm, with a bunch of fringes that hang off this little piece at the top on the outside. I know I described that all wrong but all you need to know is the fringy part completes the look of the boot. They go up to the knee and they are THE ULTIMATE VINTAGE 1970'S BOOTS.

I'm not saying I wouldn't love some kind of employer subsidized benefits package. I am not really ecstatic over my low premium/high deductible health plan and you probably wouldn't be either but let me ask you this: When was the last time your HR department gave you THE BEST EVER PAIR OF BOOTS along with your open enrollment forms and your flex spending account application?

My job rocks.

The case of the missing IPOD

2009-11-30T21:29:00.004-07:00

I used to be a major impulse buyer. I am not saying I'm not still prone to going to SierraTradingPost.com for one thing, like a new bathing suit since my old one is on the verge of losing its elastic, and then filling up my cart with other things since I am already ordering something anyway, things in various sizes and colors, since I might as well return five things if I am going to return one anyway, and next thing I know I have like $400 dollars worth of merchandise in my cart, including cycling attire for Dan which he won't even appreciate but I will. So yeah, I admit I do that sometimes, maybe I even did it this week, but for the most part, I have really learned to reign myself in over the past 18 months or so, which was concurrent with the time that I a) no longer had a full-time job b) no longer had paid leave or any portion of paid health benefits c) very nearly ran out of money and d) decided it was time to start saving for a house. So I e) got my act together and realized that by and large even though there are things I want I will not explode if I don't get them into my possession RIGHT NOW.

That being said, for a few months I had been eyeing the i Trip. This handy device lets you tune into a radio frequency and then plug your i Pod into the cigarette lighter and viola you are listening to your i Pod in the car. It's like magic. I really wanted one, especially because my car cd player has been malfunctioning for like the last 4 years and I have not been able to bring myself to pay someone to fix it. Even though I wanted the i Trip really bad as early as September-ish I made an executive decision to delay gratification and therefore chose to purchase the i Trip as my birthday present from me to me.

So on the day of my 31st birthday (which was a glorious day including indulgences such as opening a present in bed, going out to breakfast, Dan not only agreeing to but suggesting that we enter Target together, a massage, a swim in the heated outdoor lap pool, and a cake called "Better than Sex" which was only a little disturbing since it was baked by my future mother-in-law but the fact that it was chocolately goodness in its ultimate form more than compensated for any possible akwardness that may have arisen from this cake's unseemly name), I went to the Apple Store and bought my i Trip.

It was the perfect companion for what would be my nearly 2 hour commute to work the following day. For reasons that pertain largely to my ineptitude and generosity, I had agreed to help out where I was apparently desperately needed in Greeley (see the latter), but then got way lost and my 75 minute trip became much longer (see the former). I arrived at the facility finally. Unsure of where to park, I helped myself to a space in "visitor parking" which I kind of was, what with being per diem and all, knowing the chances of my "visiting" again were quite slim given the distance of this place from my home. The area looked decidedly sketchy so I decided to keep my i Pod in my jacket pocket instead of in my car. We all know what can happen when we accidentally leave prized electronic possessions in the car.

As I got out of the car I was struck by how horrid the long term care facility smelled, noting that not all nursing homes were created equal, and then remembered that that's just how the air smells in Greeley. Although the odor seems like the smell of an old person who has soiled themselves and been ignored, especially when you are standing by a huge nursing home, its actually the drift of the manure scented air of the rural northern Colorado town that you're smelling.

Work was fairly busy and went by fast. Around 4:30 I reached for my lavender Patagonia that had been hanging on the coat tree in the therapy office. I slunk into my jacket and felt in my pockets and was immediately alarmed by the emptiness I felt. The i Pod was not there. I checked again, frantically. I looked in my purse and in my lunch bag just in case, as my stomach dropped with the knowledge that someone had stolen my i Pod. I knew it was supposed to be in my jacket pocket because for a brief second during my lunch break, I had given my jacket pocket a quick feel, just to make sure it was still there. I know what I felt and it was my i Pod. I was especially sure of it because I had stupidly left my phone at home, so it could not have been my phone that I felt. My i Pod was there at lunch and now it wasn't. Why why why did I decide not to wear my coat to the home evaluation that lasted forever? I'm not saying it wasn't a worthwhile home visit that was worth every last one of the 120 or so minutes I spent there, its just that when you have a 1950's ranch home that has never been renovated and a rotund, debilitated gentleman who will be going back to said home on 2 liters of oxygen at all times, some issues arise and that means if you are his occupational therapist assessing said home situation for safety, you have to take some extra time to explain some things, like why said gentleman's 90 lbs wife should NOT EVER walk down the rickety rail-less basement stairs in front of him in order to break his possible fall because actually he would crush her if he were to fall and what they really need are a) railings on the stairs down to the basement or better yet b) a shower on the main level which he can actually access but since b is not possible refer back to a. If you can address this problem and others like it in an hour or less tell me how and I will give you a free i Pod.

Anyway, I felt certain that my i Pod had been ripped from my possesion during that home visit when I was miles from my jacket, which I actually wished I had, because it was colder than I thought it would be. I approached the other therapists who happened to be finishing up their paperwork in the office. There was a neon sign in my brain flashing "SOMEONE HERE STOLE MY IPOD!!!!" I said calmly, "Has anyone seen an i Pod? I can't find mine." Someone suggested perhaps I left it in my car. But I knew this was not possible, as I remembered specifically placing it in my jacket pocket and feeling for it at lunch. One of the physical therapists vouched for me, stating how I specifically mentioned to her that I brought the i Pod into work instead of leaving it in my car when we were talking earlier that day about the questionable neighborhood and the parking situation. I got sympathetic glances, surprise and concern that a thief might be in the building, and a couple people peered around on the floor looking for the i Pod but none of this was enough to bring my device back.

I drove home facing the sun as it set quickly behind the purple tinted mountains and felt bad for myself, as much as for having my i Pod stolen as for getting lost again on the way home, not once but twice. Yes I know its a no brainer that when you're going west you should be facing the mountains but I thought maybe it was just foggier than I thought and was so mad at myself when I finally noticed them. In my rearview mirror. At which point I took the first possible opportunity for a U-Turn. My long drive was now even longer, without even the company of my favorite playlists or the GPS that was ruthlessly stolen from me almost exactly a year ago this day. I couldn't even call Dan and whine about it because I forgot my phone. I whined to myself for most of the drive home instead. When I told Dan he felt bad for me, but I still didn't feel better. My mom called me the next morning but I just couldn't get excited about her meeting with the wedding florist, in part due to the fact that flowers are flowers as far as I am concerned, except pink peonies which I really love and hope to have in my bouquet but beyond that what else is there to talk about, and partly because I was just bummed about the missing i Pod. Why had I even bothered going to work? It would cost me as much as I earned that day just to buy a new one. Or could I live without one? Probably. But why should I be having to debate whether I should live without one or not? The point was, I was violated. It felt icky to know that someone I probably worked with reached into my pocket and took my property. Were they bopping to my "Wake Up" playlist right now? Were they relaxing with my "What the who-ha" (don't ask) playlist? Did they trade it for crystal meth? I would never know.

The next day I worked at a different building, glad to be going to a place where I was more of a regular, a facility right down the street from me that happens to be an affiliate of the i Pod stealing-manure smelling-70 miles away but 90 if you get lost-Greeley facility. Within a couple of hours one of the managers from said facility called me to say how sorry she was that my i Pod had apparently been stolen on their property. I appreciated her call but still felt disheartened. When my manager arrived at work I asked for five minutes of his time and explained the case of the missing i Pod. He felt bad and said he would email the regional manager to alert him of the problem.

The next day was Saturday, and I was scheduled to work, this time at the hospital. After pressing snooze for the millionth time I donned my scrubs and tried to not feel bad for myself for working on a weekend. It shouldn't matter considering I end up not working a lot of weekdays but there is always a lingering feeling of "I shouldn't be working today" when I work on a weekend. Anyway, like usual, the sun was shining and this bolstered my mood somewhat. Headed west, I was thinking about stopping at Vic's for an Americano and pondered whether there was actually time to get my fix and arrive at work on time (there was) when I spotted something black and shiny out of the corner of my eye. It looked suspiciously like an i Pod. My i Pod to be exact. But how could this be? Did someone perhaps feel badly and return it? But did they really drive all the way from Greeley just to somehow insert the i Pod in my car without breaking any windows or anything? It seemed impossible. Perhaps it was just some random i Pod.. that randomly inserted itself in my car? At the next red light I checked the playlist menu and sure enough, all my playlists were there. So it was definitely my i Pod. I was overwhelmed with shame. Not only had I made news of the stolen i Pod public around work, I had even posted it on Facebook. What kind of tool thinks their i Pod was stolen when it was in their car the whole time??? The same kind of person who is sure their landlord must have come in and stole their broom when actually it was kind of hard to see the broom behind the door and was therefore inexplicably missing for a couple weeks. In other words, me. After I called both of my managers and explained my blunder, the cloud of embarrassment lifted somewhat. I guess the moral of this story is even if you think you know something, like for instance you are 100% sure your i Pod was in your pocket, it is still possible that you don't know anything at all and you better really check your facts before you go around feeling violated and telling everyone about it.

Race Report: The Panicing Poultry 5k aka Dan's Comeback

2009-11-29T21:29:00.005-07:00

I'll be honest- I hesitated to begin writing this post because at this point the 5k is totally old news. I mean Thanksgiving is over done with. Heck, many of us have already elected to freeze whatever leftovers are still around at this point. The race was November 15th, which might as well be ancient history. However when it occurred to me that this story was not already covered in Sports Illustrated or even the Daily Camera, I decided who cares. A slightly outdated post is better than no post, provided you still believe in my blog. I know I have been a sporadic blogger but life keeps getting in the way. Its not just the regular routine of trying to convince Dan to wear another outfit that is taking up my time, its other things too. I'd blog about them but I just haven't had time. Now that its taken longer for you to skim this paragraph than it took me to run the race, here are the details....

This was not just any 5k. This was the highly anticipated (by me) Debut Moore versus Sinel Running Challenge, better known as Boulder Running Company's annual Panicing Poultry 5k, surrounding which were rumors of amazing giveaways including Smartwool products. Nothing was keeping me away from the possibility of free Smartwool, not even the fact that I had not run but one four miler per week over the past four weeks. That was a minor detail.

The other minor detail, which was actually a major big detail was that about three weeks prior to said Smartwool giveaway, I mean race, was that Dan ran a mile on the treadmill. This may not seem like a big deal but it was. Consider the facts: Dan ran in high school. He ran in college, albeit for a Division III school but still really fast. I want to say his PR was sub 17 minutes or thereabouts. He stopped running circa 2000, period. As in never ran again at all neither for training nor for fun nor even to get anywhere really fast. Like not at all. We're talking about a guy who exercised his condo's workout room in hiking boots, not for the added ankle support but because his only other athletic shoes were of the Shimano cycling shoe or the three pin Nordic ski boot varieties. He didn't own running shoes until very recently. So the fact that he ran in said shoes for a mile represented like a million percent increase in his mileage over the past nine or so years. Although I am not really one to impose my opinion or try and convince someone to do anything they might not otherwise do I uncharacteristically made it my mission to do everything in my power to convince Dan to do this race with me. I begged. I pleaded. I dared him. I wasn't sure if it was working so I feigned indifference. Let him do whatever he wanted while I was out collecting free Smartwool, what did I care. Who cared if he could probably do a sub 20 minute 5k, we'd never know anyway. Wanting to cover all my bases, I also made sure he knew that I was going to be really mad if he encroached on my territory as running was "my" sport and there was only room for one of us in this exclusive sport and I already had dibs. It was worth all of the reverse psychology when Dan finally went to active.com and registered. The only thing left to do was to continue to not train at all and speculate on the contenders. I wasn't sure how the race would play out, given our stats.

Pam: two time ironman finisher, 5 time marathon finisher, PR 3:55, best 5k 22:17, best 10k 47:31 (but not since 2006). Recent accomplishment: Finally able to breathe without feeling like total asthmatic with exertion at altitude.
Dan: Competive runner in high school and college, best 5k sub 17ish, other notable achievements include having legs two times as long as mine and having established himself as that guy who never trains but never gets dropped on fast group rides despite claiming "It was hard." You know what's hard? Thinking you're really fit and then getting dropped like a bad habit on the climb to Jamestown. Or being in ironman shape when your boyfriend smokes you on the climb to Ward despite having learned to use clipless pedals about 5 minutes previously. Anyway, just sayin.

My secret weapon was that although I hadn't been running per se, I had been swimming almost daily and this cardiovascular consistency had to count for something. I was up against King of Sporadic Exercise himself so I hoped my basic fitness would afford me some advantage, despite the fact that this had never been true before.

Race morning brought freezing temperatures and lots and lots of snow. Not even inclement weather could stand in the way of the Moore/Sinel Challenge however. We did our warm up together which despite the fact that in just a few minutes Dan would be my mortal enemy, was a lot of fun. This was our first time running together. After the warm up, it was all business. The gun went off and I was on Dan's shoulder for about 50 yards. Then I felt like it would be wise to run my own race because I couldn't really breathe. Then about 15 yards later I decided I might as well give it a real try so I caught up to him. Within about a quarter mile I was annoying myself with my steam train-like breathing, confident that I would DNF if I continued at this pace so I slowed a bit but kept Dan in my sights. He was not far ahead of me at the turnaround but I had resigned myself to not being able to catch him. I tried to maintain my pace for the second half but was not able to. As I neared the finish line, Dan approached and acted as my carrot as I sprinted for the final 25 yards. (Thanks, babe!!) I came through the finish, breathless, with my heart rate monitor reading 49 bpm (wtf!?) with a time of 24:52, an 8:00 pace. This was good for 6th in my age group and 13th woman. Dan was only a few seconds ahead of me, with a finish time of 23:02, a 7:25 pace. Not bad for a guy who trained a total of 5 miles. Not 5 miles a day. 5 miles period over the course of a few weeks following nearly a decade off. The good part is our kid could be fast. Not that I would ever pressure this faceless as yet nonexistent person, I'm just putting it out there. The other good part was there was a beer garden and bratwursts after. Although there was no free Smartwool in the end, there was a kids race around the parking lot which was, in a word, priceless. You can get Smartwool at REI but you can't put a price on the sight of a bunch of little ones clad in snow suits running for their lives from a few adults dressed up as turkeys.

The facts ma'am, just the facts.

2009-10-20T11:39:00.004-06:00

I know they say a picture is worth a thousand words but I don't have my digital camera handy and the internet NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW so words will have to suffice. Anyway this is a blog not a photo gallery.

So here's the deal. Everything is normal, circa 30 minutes ago. Dan and I were at his place working from home. I know it sounds like maybe we weren't really working (or am I just projecting my insecurities and fears here?) and really I can't speak for Dan but I was definitely interspersing work and work-related emails with Facebook and compulsive blog reading. I was at the dining room table. Dan was in his room. (Right. We don't live together. And don't try to tell me there is no way I can know if I should marry him without living with him first because I will just smile and nod to your face and then behind your back I will say to the first person I see "WTF!? Since when is [your name here] such a relationship f*cking expert!? Because [your name here] can just go f*ck him/herself because guess what I never asked whether I should live with Dan before we get married, ok!? When I want relationship advice, I WILL ASK FOR IT!!!" And then I will have to take a Valium. Ok just kidding about the Valium, I will not take one but I will want one.

Ok so I digressed there. The point is earlier in the day Dan had asked me if I would like for him to get me a coffee. But I politely declined because then I would have had to wake up and drink it and I didn't want to do it right then. It was early. Ok it was 8:00 but guess what people, when you work from home, yes you can do it in your pj's, but it also means sometimes you stay up till like midnight working. Like last night, I was working till 11:15. Not that I need to justify myself, I'm just.. turning into my mother, the original not a morning person... ok that is a whole other blog post.. But anyway when I finally woke up and started working of course I was thinking about coffee and how much I wanted some. Being that my coffee pot is at my house and I wasn't going there, the equidistant coffee shop was the only option. So everything was good in my world because a) I was about to get coffee and b) Dan was actually going to bring his laptop to the coffee shop with me so we could work (or blog as the case may be) together. Yay!!

So he gave me the five minute warning, at which point I shut down my computer and donned my shoes. As I put my laptop in my bag, I glanced at Dan out of the corner of my eye and did a double take. Why was he wearing his Halloween costume from last year when we dressed up as a schoolgirl (me) and a dirty old man (him)? It wasn't like he had candy and beer in his coat pockets like he did on Halloween but it was basically the same exact outfit; He had on a heather gray -shirt with some weird math equation on it (no I am not kidding. Seriously, could I even make that up?). The collar was frayed and there was a pea sized hole in the back, right under his left shoulderblade. The edges of the sleeves were fraying too. His shorts were of the cargo variety, and their light khaki shade almost matched his t-shirt exactly. I will give him credit for his low rise Adidas socks (because he prefers the same tube socks he has had for like 10 years) and his new Asics sneakers. Over his outfit (I use the term "outfit" loosely) he had on his black knee length pea coat. As I started to form the words to say something in protest to this ensemble, he took his famous homeless person/toke type hat out of his pocket.
"Dan, you can't wear that outfit."
"Why not?"
"You either need to change your coat or put on jeans. That outfit is not ok."
"But it's not like I'm single. Who cares what I wear?"
"But I have to be seen with you. Like Hey everyone My fiance is homeless." Which is actually funny because a long time ago I dated someone who didn't really have anywhere to live and for some reason like when you're reading a fiction book I was able to engage that phenomenon, "Suspension of Disbelief." And for some reason here, now, I was not able to do that with Dan. Maybe because I am older now, more mature...

But anyway, I really wanted to go for coffee so we walked to the coffee shop even though he was wearing that stupid outfit. I told him he was a walking fashion faux pas and he was like "You should totally blog about this!" and I was like "Would you mind if I make fun of you on my blog?" And he said "Sure, as long as you include all the facts."

I confess

2009-10-15T20:33:00.002-06:00

I hate that person. You know the one. The one that doesn't realize the light has turned green because she is having an important conversation on her cell phone. The one who knows you are waiting to get into a medical chart but instead of handing it to you, gets up and walks away, leaving you to wonder "Is she coming back in just a sec, or can I read the chart without looking like a jackass?" What I hate more than that person, though, is being that person.

Tonight I was that person from Craigslist who totally flakes on you. I hate that person! The one who sends you like dozen emails about a ten dollar lamp, to the point where you are like "Forget it! I am putting it on the corner. If you want it, it will be there for free because dealing with you is so not worth $10." Or the person who promises they will come to check out your place and never comes, never calls... I have never actually been stood up on a real date but the number of potential Craigslist roomates who have bailed on me outweighs the number of those who have actually shown up.

Last night I found what could possibly have been the cutest little table and chairs set on Craigslist. I called the number immediately and made plans to come check out said set tonight at 7:30. But by this evening, I was just not in the mood anymore. Having been really good about working from home, I accomplished what I had set out to accomplish by lunchtime. So at lunch I went for a little run. By the time I returned, showered, changed, made lunch, ate lunch, and got in another solid 30 minutes of work, it was time to leave for my 3:15 massage. And when that was done, I was so happy and relaxed, continuing to work just did not suit my mood. So I headed to the 29th Street Mall to finally spend the Sephora gift card that had been burning a hole in my pocket since my last birthday. While I was there I had to just check out the Mac Store, Anthropologie, and Lululemon, where I tried on a few things, liked one, and bought none. When I got home and started dinner, an old friend called. We have been playing phone tag for literally a month so I had to chat. And then it was time for my Craigslist appointment and I just didn't want to go anymore. The work I had ignored all afternoon was calling my name, loudly.

But I couldn't bear to be that person. So I stopped at the ATM just in case I really liked the furniture as the ad specifically stated "cash only." If I was going to be a good CL user, I was going to do it right.

But then, en route to the CL appointment, I got a call from someone who shall remain anonymous. My blog is not where I call people out for being difficult, passive-aggressive, or acting like my volunteer position is a tryout for The Apprentice. As soon as I hit "send" everything went to hell in a handbasket. While we were talking, the seller of the possibly very cute table and chairs set beeped in. She was going to be ten minutes late. No worries, I couldn't quite find her house anyway. She clarified the directions. I beeped back to my previous conversation in which I was informed all the things I had messed up (sorry) and did I want to change this part, (no) and what about this minute detail (use your discretion) and so what should the document say (exactly what I wrote, that's why I wrote it that way) and lets change a bunch of stuff you worked really hard on so we can save money (How much money? Don't know) and also while we are on the topic, what if we did this? (I don't think its necessary), Right but don't you think we should (um I thought I already said no. So do whatever the hell you want, why are we having this conversation. And stop micromanaging me!! Ok I didn't say that last part but I thought it really hard).

I extricate myself from the phone call and feel like slitting my wrists. Then I continue to drive around looking for this address. Seller of table and chairs calls me again to help redirect me. She thinks she sees my car. It cannot be my car, I am not driving down her road. She says she is on my left. I get out and walk around, peering closely at all the addresses on the left. Hers is not there. I call her again. I am supposed to be in the cul-de-sac. She is on the left of the cul-de-sac. Cul-de-sac, duh. I go to the cul-de-sac. I can't even read the house numbers its so dark. I still kind of want to slit my wrists. I can't deal with this. I would so much rather spend my money on the 19" flat panel TV I saw at Target than these tables and chairs. (I currently don't have any TV period). I am sick of driving around a poorly lit cul-de-sac now, feeling angry and annoyed, and have no interest in the table and chairs with the cute toile fabric. I am so done with this, to the point where my done-ness officially dominates my wish to not be that person when the CL seller calls me for like the millionth time. I tell her I am sorry, I cannot find her place and due to the fact that the whole thing ran late in the first place, I have to go home now and I am really sorry. (In my mind this fib works because my non-existent children need me to come home and bathe them and put them to bed). And she says "Whatever" with all the venom of someone who has just been screwed by another Craigslist no-show flake. Which is me. I suck.

Race Report: Park to Park 10 Miler

2009-09-07T21:21:00.002-06:00

I decided to do this race about a week ago, as I am gearing up for the Denver half marathon in mid October and I wanted to see where my fitness was. (I also wanted to see where Denver's parks were. I should be ashamed of how little I have explored my neighboring metropolis). I have been running consistently, feeling strong, and enjoying training for the first time in a while. Also, starting this month, for the first time since I moved to Colorado, I feel I can work much harder before I have the sensation that I am sucking air through a straw. I had a good feeling about the race.

Pre race: I got up at 5:10 and drank my smoothie, which consists of 1 cup chocolate soy milk, about a half cup of water, half a banana, and a scoop of chocolate protein powder. I made myself drink a tall glass of water, then sat down with my preferred beverage (coffee) and logged into my workoutlog.com account to review what I had done in 2007 at the New Bedford half marathon. That was the last race of a similar distance where I remember feeling really good about my performance and negative splitting so I wanted to go over the details to see what I had done right that time so that I could hopefully repeat it. My friend came to get me at 5:45, and we arrived at the race start by 6:30. By 6:55 I was lined up at the start line by the 9:00/mile sign. I figured I could start off around this pace, then speed up around the second half. I had not decided at exactly what point I would increase my pace, but I knew it would be between mile 4 and mile 6, depending how I felt.

Race: The gun went off and I started at a pace I considered not hard, but not easy. The first mile was downhill, and I got through it in 8:49. There were a lot of people bunched tight together but I tried to avoid wasting energy weaving too much. By the second mile the crowd had thinned quite a bit and I was able to enjoy the scenery, which at this point I believe was Cheesman Park. My split for mile 2 was 8:56. So far, so good. Mile 3 went by in 9:09. My breathing was a little more labored than I wanted it to be so I tried to slow down a little and not worry about what everyone else was doing. My split for mile 4 was 9:01. I was really focused on my breathing, as I didn't have much else for cues... I didn't want to get obsessed with time so I only looked at my watch for mile splits (and not at every mile), and I didn't wear my heart rate monitor (it chafes me and it often gives me weird unreasonable useless numbers that I know are false), and I chose not to bring my Garmin Forerunner 305 (because I would be so annoyed if it malfunctioned and then I didn't even know my splits or the time). But as it turned out my watch's memory for splits ran out after mile 4 anyway.

I was very much enjoying the scenery and the fact that the roads were blocked to traffic. I got to mile 5 and decided I felt good enough to pick up the pace just a notch, so I did. I held it there till mile 6. Mile 6-7 was pretty much all downhill, so I took advantage of that and decreased my pace to about 8:40 for mile 7. I had been leapfrogging with this one lady for a lot of the race and as we approached the decline, her friend/coach instructed her "Stay with that girl. Follow her down the hill!" When I heard her footsteps getting closer, I became extra motivated to drop her, which I eventually did. Then it just became a little game of passing people, one by one, whoever was just in front of me, or way in front of me, whoever had passed me earlier, whoever was older than me, younger than me, thinner than me, fatter than me... I was open to passing anyone I could. It gave me a good chance to look at the other women's hair as I came up behind them, in neat perfect pony tails or sleek braids... I noted the fact that I had made a major hair mistake in trying to put my not quite shoulder length hair back in a ponytail, wearing a visor and pinning my bangs back with a little barrette. This is the first time I've had bangs since I was in the seventh grade, so what to do with them during a race was a little baffling. I did the best I could, and while the bangs were mostly behaving, the rest of my not-really-long-enough-for-a-ponytail hair was falling out of the elastic and getting caught under the visor and it was just annoying. So I learned that I need a new short hair/bangs race hairstyle and I also learned that I need to stop drinking coffee no sooner than 45 minutes or so prior to the run. I had a major stitch through miles 5-8ish that I attribute to the last minute coffee. This also happened to me a couple of weeks ago, when I sipped on an Americano in the car on the way to my long run, so I know its not a fluke.

By the eighth mile, the stitch was under control and I was getting tired but I knew it was almost done. I tried to pick up the pace a little more and pay attention to my form, short quick strides and elbows straight back.... As I ran through the ninth mile mark I was really ready to be done and I think I slowed down a little because a girl in a pink visor came up next to me and said "Don't slow down! You're all that's keeping me going!" I laughed and said "Uh oh!" but this motivated me to run faster. She fell behind a little and I turned and said "Come on!" but she didn't. I would have liked someone to keep me on my toes for that last bit, but instead it was just me and my fear that my insides wanted to come out. I tried to ignore that feeling as I settled into a pace and focused on staying there. About a half mile from the end though, a girl I had passed eariler in the race came up on my shoulder and tried to pass me on my right but as soon as I heard her footsteps, I ran a little faster. She tried to come around on my left but I accelerated a little more. Then I saw Dan and his parents waving and cheering for me, so I picked it up some more... Finally I turned the corner and there was the finish line just 25 meters away. My official time was 1:28:20 but there was no timing chip. I think my real time was 1:28 even, for an average pace of 8:48.

Post-race: Before I did the math, I didn't mind my 1:28 that much, considering I felt I had ran as fast as possible. Also I had negative splitted, which was one of my goals. Later, I got out my calculator and determined my pace and felt totally depressed. I thought my running was getting back to normal but apparently this was not the case. I just couldn't figure out what happened. I used to do my long runs at an 8:48 pace! I could do an 8:20 pace half marathon two years ago!! What was happening!? Were my steely little gray hairs stealing my lung capacity?? Was it worth wondering why? I was just so frustrated. After much whining, venting, explaining, pouting, thinking, a few tears and sniffles and a some hugs (courtesy of Dan) I decided I think its altitude. All my faster running was at sea level. Some people have told me altitude robs you of 30-45 seconds per mile. The next thing I need to do is sign up for a 5k or 10k next time I am at sea level and see what happens. Then I can better decide if its the altitude or whether its something going on with me that I need to explore. In the meantime, I checked the race results online and found I was 24th of 111 girls in my age group, which cheered me up a little. Along with an Illegal Pete's green chile burrito, a cone of peach ice cream from Glacier, and the Style section (especially Modern Love and Vows) from yesterday's New York Times. And webchatting with my parents, which was superfun because my dad got to see himself on a screen which he obviously loved and my mom and I got to show each other our new haircuts. (My visor/bangs situation had been taken care of well before that point).

Wishbone waster

2009-08-21T08:13:00.006-06:00

The first time I was willing to let it go. Dan and I had roasted a chicken and when I found the wishbone I made sure we put it up on a shelf so that it could dry out, and several months later, we each made a wish and pulled on it. He won, fair and square. After grumbling a little about my loss, I asked him what he wished for, fully expecting him to taunt me by keeping it a big secret. To my surprise (and dismay upon hearing the answer), he told me, "I wished to die in space." Die in space? What? Huh? Seriously? What does that even mean? According to Dan, it means that while some hope to die at home, in their sleep, and/or surrounded by loved ones, he wants to die on a spaceship (Did I get that right, babe?). Ok fine. My wish would have been good for both of us, and actually could happen in this lifetime, but ok. It was his wish to make so I let it go. And by let it go, I mean I made fun of him every chance I got, including several months later when I brought it up at the wedding of one of his college friends and everyone agreed, in between hysterical fits of laughter, that Dan had not changed a whole lot since his days as a physics major.

Just last night, on a picnic. we found ourselves with a carrot that had a very wishbone-y shape to it. Not one to waste an opportunity for a wish, I seized the moment and told Dan to make a wish and pull on one end. I closed my eyes and concentrated for a moment. A house in Table Mesa for under 400k. ( with four bedrooms and stainless appliances). One, two, three....
Dan won again!
"What'd you wish for??" I asked. Maybe he wished for a house in Table Mesa (Martin Acres would be ok too) and it would be a win/win!
"Nothing."
"Nothing!?"
"It just happened so fast!"
"Happened so fast? You could have told me to wait! You wasted a wish!!!!"
He apologized. I munched on my measly half of the carrot. I shook my head.
Dying in space was one thing, but nothing. Oh my. I am not sure which is worse.

Race Report: Pearl Street Mile

2009-08-13T21:43:00.002-06:00

I had never done a 1 mile race before. I had run a mile as fast as I could, but only in the context of mile repeats on the track or accidentally. Seriously. I once almost dropped out of a four miler because I ran the first mile too fast. My running group, Fast Forward encouraged us all to come out and do it, which was all the motivation I needed. I wanted to do this race last year but I had go out of town for a wedding instead.

So I paid my $15 to run a mile (and I thought my Whole Foods salad on Monday night was a frivolous expenditure!) and ran from my house to the start area as an easy warm up. I warmed up some more with the Fast Forward folks, enjoyed a nice pep talk from the coach and formulated my plan: Go out hard and try to hold the pace. I had no idea what my time would be but I was hoping for 7 minutes or better.

I watched the little kids come through the finish for the kids 1/2 miler, which was very cute, and then it was our turn. "Us" being the "Friends and Family Non-competitive Wave" If I thank Fast Forward Sports for nothing else, ever, I owe them infinite thanks for sending out the email with specific instructions to sign up for this wave.
"How come I can't register as Women's Open? Non-competitive? I'm going to be elbowing jog stroller people out of the way!" I asked the coach.
"If you want to line up with Collen DeReuck and all the rest of the female elite runners, you can, but I wouldn't if I were you," he admonished.
Duh. I forgot this is Boulder, where you have to climb Mount Everest or run a sub 3 hour marathon for anyone to think you're mildly special.

So I lined up with all the regular folk and when it was time to go, I went, pretending it was just a mile repeat with no need to save anything for the subsequent repeats. My thoughts went like this:
Run run run run run. There's Dan on a bench cheering for me. Hi babe. Run run run. Just run. Don't think. Just run. Don't think. Guy in a red shirt with floppy hair passed me. Pass him back. Oh he passed me again. Keep running. Just run. Just run. Just run. My throat is dry. Really dry. Keep running. I can't breathe. Air is for the weak. Air is stupid. Keep running. Its almost over at the traffic light. Don't slow down. I think I see Dan. He's saying "Go Pammy." Mentally I say hi. Can't talk. Why is a grandpa passing me. Almost done. Turn the last corner. Gonna puke. Don't vomit. Run faster. Almost there. Clock says 6:57. Run run run run run. 7:01. Ok. I can breathe again.

Then the wheels started turning... What if it were on the track? What if I hadn't gone to Booty Camp this morning? What if it were at sea level? What. Ever. I ran as fast as I could.

Feel good project

2009-08-06T22:15:00.004-06:00

Do you want to feel good? Here's what you do.
Find all the old stuff that if you are a normal person, is probably in your parents' garage/attic/basement/your old room. Unless you are like me and your old room became your sister's room which is now the yoga/granddaughter room and your parents made you take back all of your stuff, in a way that was non-negotiable, in other words they paid to have all that stuff shipped to you when they realized you are probably going to live a million miles away for the foreseeable future which is hard to say out loud but really who are we trying to kid.

So you get all the boxes and you're like "OMG what is all this stuff!?"
You find your eighth grade yearbook, your old sticker book that you and your brother co-owned in 1984 containing a mix of My Little Pony and Transformers stickers and a lot of scratch-n-sniffs that totally don't smell anymore, dozens of wallet size prom pictures of you and someone you all but forgot about, a charm necklace, ticket stubs, play bills, college acceptance letters, the paper machet puppet you made in the third grade, and letters.

Lots and lots of letters. So many letters that you start to think maybe you got hit on the head really hard and don't remember that you used to be a celebrity because from the looks of all these stacks of letters you'd swear you had a fan club.

But as you dig through each and every letter you see that indeed these were not fans but mainly friends and relatives, minus the unsigned letter you got in your box in high school that was creepy, wierd, and threatening, which you did not know who it was from then and still don't know now so you finally throw it away, 13 years after the fact. But other than that its pretty much Warm Fuzzy City. Note after handwritten note bearing sentiments like "I miss you!", "I love you", and "I can't wait to see you again!" And some of them weren't even from your mom. There's ones that say "I am so glad we became friends." Some even comment on specific attributes; "I love your wierd sense of humor!" or "You make me laugh, I will miss being roommates." You find letters from people you forgot you even liked enough to exchange letters with. You find a letter from your little sister written from summer camp ca. 1992 with an urgent P.S., stating "Tell mom and dad I want a trampoline for my birthday!! OK??" You're laughing as you tear through letter after letter. Except when you're reading all the ones from your late grandmother that typically begin "My dearest, precious granddaughter..." and then you are bawling your eyes out. Which intensifies as you find the birthday card from your parents where your dad writes how glad he is that you finally moved back to Rhode Island. And then you are drowning in an ocean of homesickness and wish Boulder could just switch places with Attleboro. So you leave to go put your wash in the dryer because you can't take it anymore but when you return to the living room you see several shapeless ill defined stacks of letters to keep strewn about the floor and you realize you are going to have to figure out a storage system for all these letters (which you may or may not ever look at again and even though you know that you probably won't, find that irrelevant as there is no way you are throwing these away) but you have to leave because you have a 3 o'clock bike fit appointment and you know you are going to have to come home to these amorphous piles and eventually deal with them. Ok so now you feel kind of bad and not so good anymore. But you know that whenever you have a chance to get these organized and put them in some clear stackable Sterlite containers from Target you are definitely going to feel good again.

What not to do

2009-08-04T22:32:00.002-06:00

1) Meet your running group for a 6pm run at the park. Finish run just after 7:30.
2) Realize on your way to your fiance's you forgot the ginger that goes in the soup you are about to make.
3)Begin to move from kinda hungry to considering eating my hand
4) Stop at home to get said ginger
5) Start the soup, which involves
a)boiling beets
b) boiling carrots
c) chopping onions, chicken, zucchini
d) mincing garlic, ginger
e) pureeing beets and carrots in blender. Which is more complicated that you thought it
would be and makes beet juice go everywhere.
f) browning onions, garlic, chicken
g) adding carrot puree, beet puree, zucchini, bring to a boil
h) add vegetable boullion and water
h) add ginger
6) Because now it is 9:30 and all you have had for dinner so far is an apple and a few carrot sticks and you are hungry, inpatient, and irritable and beet juice keeps getting everywhere.

I'm not saying don't ever do these things. I'm just saying don't do them in this order if you have a tendency to get hangry. (hungry=angry). And don't ever do these things in this order with someone else if you want them to continue to enjoy hanging out with you unless they are a blood relative or have put a sparkly ring on your finger, but even then I really wouldn't recommend it.

(I do however recommend the soup which we totally winged as far as the recipe was concerned).

Found this week

2009-08-02T18:24:00.003-06:00

I've said it before and I will say it again: Boulder streets are the Nordstrom of random free stuff. I kid you not. If you wait long enough, you will find whatever you are seeking on these streets, especially around the first of the month, when all the snot nosed college kids who can't be bothered to take their cast-offs to the Salvation Army leave them by the nearest dumpster instead. Not that I particularly blame them. Why should they go to the extra trouble when their stuff will surely be put to good use anyway? It is not uncommon to see people, all kinds of people, ranging from those with no teeth to those such as myself who have had thousands of dollars worth of orthodontia, shopping the side streets and alleyways. On Thursday I even saw people with grocery carts and buckets with which to shuttle their new treasures.

This week I have accrued: a colander, a host of tupperware, a wastebasket (the exact kind I actually spent money on at Bed Bath and Beyond, which is designated for the desk area. The bedroom still needed one), 3 wine glasses (for white wine), and a small skillet. I almost took a TV but a) It didn't have a remote and b)I don't have cable or c)DVR and if I got said TV I would feel compelled to get one of those introductory deals for both b and c and since I am using my neighbor's unsecured internet connection for free anyway (thank you bobo, whoever you are), it doesn't really make sense, especially because d) I have pretty much been off TV ever since I moved to Boulder save for a few presidential debates and episodes of Family Guy and How I Met Your Mother that Dan and I occasionally download on Hulu.com. Which is kind of annoying because I'm always like "Tilt the Screen!" or "My head is in your armpit/collarbone/shoulder" and "WHY IS IT BUFFERING!? I WAS WATCHING THAT!" But overall this is better than an actual TV because I know from the times we have been in a hotel together that Dan and I are not compatible TV partners. And that is all I will say about that. Except that one of us really likes Sponge Bob Square Pants and one of us doesn't. Also one of us flips through channels as if it is somehow satisfying to see 2 minutes of one thousand things and one of us doesn't.

But anyway, I refuse to buy anything that either Dan has or we can register for, which is pretty much everything. I am so very looking forward to September 1 and all the pre-owned riches it will surely bring.

Working From Home Means....

2009-07-30T20:04:00.007-06:00

You don't blog as much as you want because...

a) You are sick of being in front of the computer
but more often
b) You haven't worked enough today/this week/period to justify taking a large chunk of time (as it takes a shockingly long time to write a post that takes 2 minutes to read) to do something other than work.

Even though

c) If you added up all the 5+ minutes chunks of time you spent reading email/replying to one urgent email/checking facebook/checking Craigslist/checking the weather/checking your bank account online/getting a snack/going to the bathroom/reading blogs you know you would have enough time to write a blog post for crying out loud.

While
D) Ironically, working from home actually increases the urgency of all of the above. What used to be the casual perusal of Craigslist, when working from home evolves into an urgent pressing need to CHECK ON THINGS. All kinds of things (furniture, apartments, jobs) because THEY MIGHT NOT BE THERE TOMORROW. Not that you are necessarily looking for said furniture, apartments, or jobs. You just want to know what's out there.

Right now working from home means YOUR WEDDING DRESS IS IN A BOX ON THE LIVING ROOM FLOOR. Said box is TAPED SHUT. In other words it arrived in the mail today and if you open the box, you will see the dress. When you see the dress you will touch the dress. Once you feel the dress you will have to put it on. And even though its still a foot too long and the chest is way too loose you will prance around like a pretty princess. Then you will try on your pretty pink heels and turn on some music (probably Madonna) and dance till God knows when. And then no work will happen. Which it desperately needs to.

So you finally decide that if you aren't going to be working for the next 10-15 minutes its better to publicly vent about how hard it is to work from home than to dance in said bridal gown till the sky grows dark. And you try to remember how lucky you are to have a job, period, while your wedding dress is practically banging on the cardboard box, begging you to let her out.

Comments

2009-06-25T21:57:00.004-06:00

Instead of a blog post here are the comments you would have heard if you had been standing outside my dressing room when I tried on wedding dresses with my mom and sister. For the fifth time. Actually the first time with all of us together, the fourth time with my mom, but the fifth time altogether. I don't understand these women who are like "I got the first one I tried on!" Good for them. I liken the process of wedding dress shopping to dating. Both take a lot of time and energy. You can do both online and/or in person but the latter is usually less of a crapshoot. Both are alternately extremely fun and utterly demoralizing, but totally worth it when you finally find the right one. Which I finally did (The man and the dress. Hurrah!)

"This one is kind of... really bad." -Me

"I look like Cinderella. But not in a good way." - Me

"This could be a great dress. For someone really skinny with big boobs." -Me

"I never realized my cellulite had cellulite till now." -Me

"Don't even bother zipping this one." -Me

"My finger hurts! Can Mom take over?" - Liz after zipping approximately the 31st dress

Regressing

2009-06-08T22:58:00.001-06:00

The other day, as Dan was helping me carry my hanging clothes into my new apartment I was regaling him with tales of my yard saling adventures.
"Oh, and beside all the housewares I got at the estate sale for five bucks, wait till you see the sweet-ass garbage can I found! It was only a dollar!"
I was grinning from ear to ear. My grin slowly faded though, as Dan jolted me back to reality.
"Sweet-ass garbage can? Pam, seriously."
I tried to hold my ground.
"No, it it is a great garbage can! Because the thing of it is, I would have had to pay like 11.99 for it at Target, but I got a great garbage can, you know, a tall one, for the kitchen? For just a dollar!"
Even I was having trouble convincing myself.
When did I become so cheap, anyway?

There is a fine line between cheap and frugal and I believe I am straddling it ever so precariously. At best. The garbage can exchange took place only about 15 minutes after The Great Bookshelf Find. Driving back from my old place, my car was loaded with the final load of clothes, a random assortment of foodstuffs, and our bikes on the roof rack. After a 50 mile bike ride and one final schlep of my stuff, we were ready to get clean and get fed. First however, I had to make a U-Turn to fully inspect the Great Bookshelf. It was sitting on the curb next to a matching desk in all its fake birch veneer glory. The matching desk I could do without, but the shelf was perfect for the spot right next to the fireplace! It was wobbly but it had five good shelves. And as Dan pointed out, it was nothing a few nails couldn't fix. I had a hammer! I had nails! Perfect!!
"Dan, can you believe this! This is the perfect Bookshelf!"
Enter Reality, stage right.
"Pam, you're 30. You're engaged. The Bookshelf is not that great."
"Ok but when we unload the car, lets come right back for The Bookshelf!"

Try as I might, it is hard to ignore the facts. I am afraid my standard of living has taken a nose dive of late. If you were to put my housing situations on a line graph you would see a gradual increase from 2000-2006, then a plateau to 2008, and then a sharp decline from 2008 to present, where it is again at a plateau. My carpet has stains. My freezer has no shelf. The sliding screen door to the patio does not slide. You can only access my parking spot via a long alley that has 2 potholes the size of California. The laundry is outside my unit. This would be grand if I was living in Manhattan. Which I'm not.

Boulder is no big city but I will say, I have everything I need within walking distance. Within 10 minutes I can walk to Dan's, the Brewing Market, Jo-Ann Fabrics, Performance Bicycle, LiquorMart, US Bank, the Boulder Public Library and even Triathlete dentist. My neighborhood is rife with lazy college students who leave all their stuff around the dumpster instead of packing it up or taking it to the Salvation Army before they move. I ought to send them a thank you note. This weekend, within mere steps of my parking spot, I found 2 Stephen King Books (I might read them when I am done with every magazine, catalog, and article of junk mail in my apartment if the library is inaccessible and Amazon.com goes under), 1 Paul Coehlo book (I truly might read this one), yet another perfect garbage can (designated for my paper recycling), and a plastic bin (perfect on top of the fridge).

Sadly, I never was able to add The Bookshelf to my collection of Cheap or Free Stuff I Found on the Street. Eventually Dan came back, but he was empty handed. Although we had "hid" The Bookshelf behind a fence so no one else could claim my treasure before we came back to retrieve it, the plan backfired. We left The Bookshelf dangerously close to the dumpster, which made someone think it was... trash. So it was a little wobbly and it was probably from Target ca. 1999 but why do people have to go around playing God, like they get to decide what's trash and what isn't? People need to mind their own business. Anyway, Dan said he saw The Bookshelf peeking out of the dumpster and he didn't think it was worth diving in for it. Which I totally understood. I do have standards after all. Like, when I saw massive rolls of dirty old used carpeting by the dumpster on Friday, I totally did not take them.