And Now It Is Time For...

Have you ever noticed how many things in life are dictated or influenced or even spoiled by the element of time? We measure our days in increments named hour, minute, second rather than by how they make us feel, or what transpired to make it noteworthy in the first place.

My life these days is all about time, I'm afraid. Waiting periods, court deadlines, more waiting. And the running part of my life? Pace runs, speed work, long runs, just finding time to run. Graduate school, time for homework, time for research, time for class. And then there's work, as in "the job I get paid to do."

From time to time I get a case of the "What's the point?!"- itis. Like...these last few weeks. I'm not usually such a complainer, I swear I'm not. But there comes a time when a girl can't deal with all of the shit thrown at her. For instance:

1) Week-long business trip to Atlanta with seven- seven!- staff members where not only can I not get tickets to the Braves game, but my credit card gets nabbed, and we miss our connecting flight out of Minneapolis, causing an overnight delay.

2) Frantic planning of end-of-school year activities involving too much shopping (I cannot believe I just said that, but it was not *that* kind of shopping), and not enough support from other staff. I mean, after almost ten years of holding an event, dontcha think they'd be able to run it in their collective dreams? Yes, you would think so.

3) Realizing that my spring marathon is a mere three weeks away, and I have not yet secured a hotel room, much less made alternate plans for my daughter.

4) Waking up to 19 degrees in mid-April, starting my car, putting it into gear, and having the front end/wheel bearings drop onto the driveway when I am supposed to be taking my daughter to school.

You see? And that was just the span of one week.

And now, I look back on those events and have a different perspective. My bank has wonderful customer service. I only had to field one complaint during that big event, and it ran without a single hitch. Lunch on Good Friday resulted in catching up with a wonderful friend, who just so happened to have a hotel suite with an available pull out sofa sleeper marathon weekend.

And the car? Well, the car was never my choice, and I've always hated it. It was a piece of shit from the get-go, and I'm still a teensy bit bitter that it stuck around as long as it did. So, while there's no happy ending for that, the rest just kinda worked itself out.

Which brings me back to time.

With my race training and foray back to grad school, free time is as valuable as gold these days. I barely have time to shower, let alone find time for a quality run. My friendships have moved to the margins of my life, being reduced to rushed and fragmented text messages rather than conversations. This weekend- Easter weekend, a four day weekend- was my first real break from a schedule in I can't remember how long. My time has been micromanaged, and I have no one to blame but myself.

So, what have I learned from this? I have learned that I need to schedule my free time to be truly free from everything. I have learned that I cannot control fate. I have learned that if you take all of the bits and pieces, you can still see the "I love you and miss you" in the back-and-forth with your friends. I have learned that my running is an integral part of my life, and to ignore the twitching in my legs is to ignore a large part of what makes me, me.

As much as I have thought about how time is central to so much in our daily lives, I have come to appreciate the passage of time, too; I can do what I always admonish others to do: reflect, learn something from it, and move on. Evolve.

Transition to Spring

Once again, I've plundered my "From the Editor" pieces from my running club's newsletter, with this piece from 2009. Enjoy.

How do you know when something is over? I don't mean something like an event or a movie or a song; I mean something more abstract, like an era, a movement, a feeling? A season?

Don't tell me you haven't pondered this before. Everybody , at some point in time, has wondered "When will this be over?!" For us runners, we often find comfort in the concrete routines of our sport: the familiar local races year after year, the same runners crossing paths through the park or along the trail, the constant cycle of training/tapering/racing/resting for the marathoners in our ranks, and the smiling faces in the crowd, wishing us luck. Those things we can rely on, can't we? Take them one-by-one and mull over each awhile.

Local races: they seem to organize themselves, don't they? And yet anyone who has helped plan, organize, and direct a race knows this is most certainly not the case. Do we mourn the dedication of the race staff and volunteers when we search for a registration form, only to find a notice that the race is no longer being held?

What about the people we see along our regular routes? Or the same people we see on the treadmills next to us at the local YMCA? Do we notice when they don't appear around the playground at mile three, or do we only catch their absence once the run is complete? When do we realize and accept that they may have *gulp* stopped running?

I don't think I need to expound on the craziness that is the marathoner's life, but that constant motion is part of the collective memory we have in reference to certain friends, right? I mean, we all have a friend or acquaintance who qualifies for and then runs the Boston Marathon each year. What if...they stopped?

And those faces in the crowd! If you're lucky, you'll be running long enough to see certain shifts in the position of the crowd. The speedy middle-aged guy in front of you three years ago is now more comfortable pacing his buddy, and may even drop out of the race once he's confident in his charge's performance. Eventually he'll make his way towards the middle and then the back of the pack. Before you know it, he'll be relegated to collecting registration forms and fees and handing out race t-shirts.

Spring is a transitional season for runners: we move from bundled up freaks wearing face masks and shed our layers of gear to reveal the (hopefully) lithe runner's body underneath. Those bodies hidden in the dormancy of winter are just aching to go, to move, to be seen.

And then.

We are obligated to ponder the transitions around us, we are forced into the uncomfortableness of change. At what point does a runner become a non-runner? When does a passion become a chore? When does the relationship get so comfortable that it is taken for granted? When does the season really change? Who can pin-point that? Not I, said the cat. And yet, I'm not sure I'd want to know, lest I apply my runner's sensibilities to resurrecting something that just may be better off left to fade away.

Don't forget to give thanks for those daily markers in your life. Quick now, before they fade away.

Questions Needing Answers

1. Can I count all of the running around at work this week as cross training? Tuesday was an afternoon of bowling followed by dinner for 100+ people and Minute to Win It games. Watching people try to get an Oreo cookie from their forehead into their mouth and not being able to use their hands will always be entertaining.

2. Does the exhilaration of completing a really tough physical challenge ever get old? Man, I hope not. Wednesday was the day my department took kids to Northern Michigan University to climb the rock wall. While the kids shimmied like monkeys up the walls, I ran progressive 800's on one of the treadmills overlooking the wall area: 9:00, 8:48, 8:34, 8:20, 8:13, 7:53. THEN I went and conquered 1) my fear of heights, and 2) that rock wall. After that, I tried my hand at racquetball. Um...I *might* have some aggression issues; boy, it sure is fun to smack a small rubber ball around an enclosed room!

3. How much pride can you have in a group of teenagers before you explode? Thursday was my version of The Amazing Race . We had nine teams of two racing around the rez on bikes and then on foot completing challenges for the body & mind. Some of the kids are less than fit; some are obese. Everyone finished all of the challenges with smiles and high fives. No one even trash talked other teams- it was all about encouraging others and teamwork (ca$h prize$ help, too). It makes 12+ hour days worthwhile.

4. How horrible of an eater do you have to be- and for how long- before your insides fall out? Yesterday was quite possibly the worst food day I've had in awhile. I have posted before about my food/pickiness issues (go here and here for a primer), but yesterday my intake was just awful. I posted earlier about it on Facebook, but I will post my food diary here as well:

7 am Coffee with sugar free hazelnut creamer

11 am Banana

12 noon-5 pm Approximately 40 pieces of Laffy Taffy, or however many constitutes one third of a 5 pound bag.

10:30 pm One can (yes, the entire can) of Disney Princess shaped Spaghettios

5. When will my Spring Break with events & activities planned by and paid for by someone else start?

That last one is the only non-rhetorical question, and is geared towards all of my fabulously independently wealthy friends. Catch me on the celly, awwwriiite?

Please Buy This for Me

Size small, in the pewter. Please and thank you.

Now, why on Earth would I ask everyone in blogger-dom to buy me this maxi sundress from Garnet Hill ? Blame it on a dream I had last night.

I KNOW! Enough with the dreams, already!

But this dream was...more real. Does that make sense? Often times my dreams are of everyday tasks and activities, but this one was less everyday and more real. I'll ask again: does that make sense?

So, I'm wearing this dress, and I'm dancing with someone (can't tell who at this point). Slow dancing to a band. We're at a cantina-ish place, with the rough-hewn post & beam type patio space, lanterns hanging everywhere with warm light. It must be somewhere warm (definitely not in the Upper Peninsula!), because everyone else is dressed beachy. Okay, you know the scene in the movie version of Eat Pray Love where Liz first meets whatshisname at a party after doing all those shots of tequila? It was like that, minus the tequila. Back to the dream: I'm dancing, but all I see is the dress, all fabric and floating and swirling and twisting with the movements of my body, glimpses of my arms & shoulders. The music from the band is coming to an end, and I feel myself being put into a dip- bodies close, one leg hiked up, the works. I look up and see my partner for the first time in this dream: its Shall Remain Nameless from this post.

WTF?! Shall Remain Nameless hasn't made an appearance in my dreams since that first dream, and honestly, I've been too busy with oh, life to focus on anyone or anything other than what's in front of me at the moment (right now? Coffee.). But let me tell you this: it was in-tense. Just like that first dream. It felt like it was something that should really happen, you know? An omen, perhaps.

Whatever. All I know is that I now must have that dress.

Things are Looking Up

Its funny how seemingly small things or events can help shift your outlook. I know I've kinda been a whiner lately, but I've tried very hard to remain optimistic. Little surprises help, and so do good, solid workouts (well, for me, anyway).

Like last weekend: I had a very busy morning on Sunday, but then met Tha Doctah and another friend, Pasquatch (don't ask) at our local arts center to help hang a new gallery show. It was so lovely to go back to my artist's roots for an hour or so, to debate why one painting should go here and not over there. And then a cup of coffee and catch up time? Nice. I thought for sure my day would end there, that I'd pick Daughter #2 up from her dad's house, and my weekend would be gone.

But NO!

I had originally planned to do a nice evening run with my friend, Fast Jessica. Then I had to cancel because I thought I was doing taxes. Then the taxes thing got moved, and I was able to run after all. So confusing!

Side note: Fast Jessica is named such because she is a much faster runner than I am. She has always been one of those runners at local races that people whisper about: Is Jessica here today? I wonder what her time will be. Or one July 4th Firecracker run, courtesy of my father-in-law: I just got chicked. By a pregnant lady pushing a jogging stroller. She is a force to be reckoned with.

Anyway, we got together for our run, and planned on an easy 7-miler out & back, uphills on the way out, downhill on the way back. Awwwww, yeah! The plan was to go out easy, then let the road speed us up after the turn around. Well, something that usually happens when Jess & I run is that we talk. I KNOW! As we talk, we sometimes- okay, all the time- go faster than expected. This is significant because, like I mentioned earlier, she is Fast Jessica, and I am me.

I've noticed something happening to me, though, since I've been running more with FJ: I've gotten faster, and I've been happier about running. The benefits of a running partner, right? Well, its something that I was lacking after my first running partner- my father-in-law- died during a local half-marathon. I have missed the camaraderie of a regular running partner, of regular routes and workouts, and of the push you receive from said partner. I'm so thankful for FJ.

Back to the run: we started out fast, and got faster. Downhill on the turnaround, remember? What was supposed to be a chill run turned in to an exercise in running strong whilst tired. We celebrated the good run- and FJ's birthday (25! Again!)- with pizzas and grocery store cake courtesy of Uncle Winga. An evening of great conversation and friendship was had, and my weekend was better than expected.

But that's not all. After Daughter #2 was home with me, we sat in my living room: me, nodding in and out of sleep on the big chair with HGTV on the television, and D2 tapping away on the computer. What happened next is what made the weekend move from pretty good to fucking awesome: D2 came over to me and kissed me goodnight. My 15-year-old. It was, to a mother who has never felt entirely maternal, heavenly.

She has continued to do this every night since. It makes me happier than you could ever know.

Good things usually come in threes, right? Mental checklist: awesome run/evening with running friends? Check! Kiss goodnight from formerly surly teenage daughter? Check! Coming home from work last night to find my new running shoes ? Check!

See? Things are looking up. If you focus on the positive, I feel that will reflect back on you, and help change the color of your days from blue to sunshine yellow. Karma, friends. Give thanks for the good, and pay it forward.

Say Hello To...

...my friend, Troy. Now, let me preface everything else I'm about to write with the following: I've never actually met Troy.

I KNOW!

Its one of those virtual friendship things: a friend of a friend from another online community, and now a friend on Facebook, Troy would so definitely be my friend for real if he lived closer. Like, I think we'd have met because our circle of friends would be...well, the same circle.

Troy is a runner, a dry stone waller, a husband, father, fellow Midwesterner (although he now lives in Vermont), and funny fella. He can also grow one helluva moustache if he wants to.

Anyway, I'm always happy to help another blogger gain followers. So go visit Troy's blog. Tell him I sent you over. I know he'll be thrilled to make room for you in his circle.

In Like a Lion...

You know, I've really been struggling these past few weeks, months to come to terms with well, everything, and when I really sat and thought about my emotions and all the happenings of my day-to-day, I realized that it might not be me; it might be the weather.

Many people suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder, and while I don't think I'm immune- I thrive on sunny days, despise the cold and gloom and weight of winter days- I certainly don't think I'm a candidate for therapeutic relief in the form of medication. No, I can usually talk myself out of a slump. Loft House cookies help.

Looking back further than recent months, I can say with certainty that this feeling I've had (and even posted about it ) comes with this anonymous in-between season we have here in the Midwest. Winter is still holding on via last-gasp snowstorms and early morning frost on car windows, and yet Spring is still hibernating, teasing with fantastically bright sunshine on 19 degree days. Aren't we like Spring, then? All we really want to do is stay snuggled in our beds a little longer. But my impatience gets the best of me, and I can be embarrassingly unbearable. So short is my fuse that I feel like I should have a rotating wardrobe of t-shirts with things like "Just DON'T" and "What the fuck is your point?" Bedazzled on them.

Anyway, I thought about how to best describe my emotional state this time of year (besides "laaaazzzzyyyy" and "potty mouthed"): wistful, meditative, pensive, contemplative, eager. Some of these connote sadness, and I guess I'm never sure what exactly I'm sad about; the words just seem to fit. And when I feel this way, I listen to certain types of music. "The Soundtrack of My Life," I like to call it, because I see the days of my life unfolding like a scene from a movie, and these are the songs I imagine playing in the theater should anyone else be privy to the show. In no particular order:

1. "Long Ride Home" by Patty Griffin (This is quite possibly the saddest song I know. I can't not cry when I hear it.)

2. "Everybody Knows" by Ryan Adams and The Cardinals (Another unsung American singer/songwriter. Listen to the CD "Easy Tiger.")

3. "Chicago" by Sufjan Stevens (This one always brings me back to its eponymous source, with memories of riding the El, marveling at the city.)

4. "One of These Things First" by Nick Drake ("A whole long lifetime could've been the end...")

5. "The Only Living Boy in New York" by Simon & Garfunkel (This reminds me of simpler days, and always ALWAYS of my dad. *love*)

6. "Say Hello Wave Goodbye" by David Gray (This version is hauntingly beautiful; yes, I know it was originally a New Wave pop B-side for the British band Soft Cell.)

7. "The Time of Times" by Badly Drawn Boy (I firmly believe that every movie soundtrack would be better with a song from Badly Drawn Boy.)

8. "Are You Alright?" by Lucinda Williams (It was difficult to pick just one song from Lucinda, but this one fits the list's vibe.)

9. "This Too Shall Pass" by OK Go (The link will take you to a super awesome marching band version of the song. For another version with a cool Rube Goldberg machine, go here.)

10. "Sons & Daughters" by The Decemberists (A bit melancholy, yet hopeful in the end: "Hear all the bombs fade away.")

And that's how I'll leave you today: hopeful. Because we all know the second half of this post's title...