Except, not.
It is so clear in this picture that I am NOT feeling that endorphine rush.
You know what I love about that picture the most?
You can just tell that I'm thinking, "Dear God, why am I doing this to myself?" While the bitch in the background is all, "I love to run . . . weeeeeee!"
Also: my double chin is so massive I look like I have the goiter.
In my defense, I did not know they were taking my picture.
So, two weeks later, when I saw the camera aimed in my direction: I was ready. This, is what you call FIERCE.
I blame my father for cheeks that look like I'm storing nuts for the winter.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Book List
S' parents gave me a Barnes & Noble gift certificate for Christmas. I'm rather deliberate in my purchases so it's taken me a while to come up with a list of reading materials worthy of my spending the gc.
On the top of my list was a new calendar. I know this isn't impressive, but I needed one and by the end of January they are 75% off - you know it was prudent of me to wait until after the new year to make this purchase, but I really limited myself. I had a choice of Cute Cats 2006, More Cute Cats 2006 and Dali. I went with the Dali. I don't have any particular affinity for Dali, but his work reminds me of a moment I had during the first spring I lived in Colorado Springs.
Springtime in the Springs is gorgeous. The skies our cloudless and the blue is the most startling shade of indigo. The sky looks even more stunning against the mostly barren terrain. I really can't do it justice. Anyway, this particular spring morning I was on my way to work, anyone that knows me is well aware of the fact that I am not a morning person, so my morning commute was usually my 30 minutes to wake-up and face another day at work. On this particular day, I remember glancing into my rearview mirror to check my eyeliner (what, like I ever look in there to see if I can switch lanes) and I saw this.
"Fuck me," I thought.
Mind you, it was early, I was still groggy and I couldn't make out the basket so for a brief time, on my otherwise boring drive, I truly felt as if I was living inside of a Dali painting. Alas, it was just a hot air balloon.
Later That Same Day . . .
My other purchases at B&N were the latest issue of Real Simple and Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking.
Didion's book has been on my wish list for a while now and it has been worth the expenditure. It's not a cheery book as she recounts for us the death of her husband and the year thereafter, which includes the touch-and-go hospitalization of her daughter, Quintana Roo. Roo, died of acute pancreatitis (not the reason for hospitalization in the boo) after the book's publication.
What moved me was how much her mourning period reminds me of what I went through when my marriage ended.
She opens the novel with:
Joan Didion starts her book:
"Life changes fast
Life changes in an instant
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends."
For me it was a phone call from my spouse and life as I knew it had ended. She goes on about how people always say, "It was just a normal day when . . . " My recollection of the day I found out about J starts out, "It was another beautiful spring day . . . " not unlike the one in which I unexpectedly found myself in a Dali painting.
I can't tell you what happened in the hours after I found out about J. I am only sure of the fact that I finished out my day at work as if it was any other day.
Didion is referred to as a "cool customer" by the paramedics at the hospital. Rather than falling to her knees in a mass of uncontrolled sobbing, Didion takes stock of the moment she is in and focuses on the mundane: I'll need my keys if we are going to the hospital. I don't think she's a "cool customer" as much as she's doing what she needs to deal with the situation.
I could do this with a lot of what Didion when through, but I won't. If you've read my blog, you know the story of J and I so I won't bore you with it here. It would also be awfully naive of me to compare the end of a relationship to the lose of a spouse.
But, the next time a friend, acquaintance or sibling, whatever, goes over their breakup/divorce for the 1000th time don't belittle his or her pain by saying, "Get over it already."
The loss of a spouse/partner is painful, no matter how it happens.
On the top of my list was a new calendar. I know this isn't impressive, but I needed one and by the end of January they are 75% off - you know it was prudent of me to wait until after the new year to make this purchase, but I really limited myself. I had a choice of Cute Cats 2006, More Cute Cats 2006 and Dali. I went with the Dali. I don't have any particular affinity for Dali, but his work reminds me of a moment I had during the first spring I lived in Colorado Springs.
Springtime in the Springs is gorgeous. The skies our cloudless and the blue is the most startling shade of indigo. The sky looks even more stunning against the mostly barren terrain. I really can't do it justice. Anyway, this particular spring morning I was on my way to work, anyone that knows me is well aware of the fact that I am not a morning person, so my morning commute was usually my 30 minutes to wake-up and face another day at work. On this particular day, I remember glancing into my rearview mirror to check my eyeliner (what, like I ever look in there to see if I can switch lanes) and I saw this.
"Fuck me," I thought.
Mind you, it was early, I was still groggy and I couldn't make out the basket so for a brief time, on my otherwise boring drive, I truly felt as if I was living inside of a Dali painting. Alas, it was just a hot air balloon.
Later That Same Day . . .
My other purchases at B&N were the latest issue of Real Simple and Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking.
Didion's book has been on my wish list for a while now and it has been worth the expenditure. It's not a cheery book as she recounts for us the death of her husband and the year thereafter, which includes the touch-and-go hospitalization of her daughter, Quintana Roo. Roo, died of acute pancreatitis (not the reason for hospitalization in the boo) after the book's publication.
What moved me was how much her mourning period reminds me of what I went through when my marriage ended.
She opens the novel with:
Joan Didion starts her book:
"Life changes fast
Life changes in an instant
You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends."
For me it was a phone call from my spouse and life as I knew it had ended. She goes on about how people always say, "It was just a normal day when . . . " My recollection of the day I found out about J starts out, "It was another beautiful spring day . . . " not unlike the one in which I unexpectedly found myself in a Dali painting.
I can't tell you what happened in the hours after I found out about J. I am only sure of the fact that I finished out my day at work as if it was any other day.
Didion is referred to as a "cool customer" by the paramedics at the hospital. Rather than falling to her knees in a mass of uncontrolled sobbing, Didion takes stock of the moment she is in and focuses on the mundane: I'll need my keys if we are going to the hospital. I don't think she's a "cool customer" as much as she's doing what she needs to deal with the situation.
I could do this with a lot of what Didion when through, but I won't. If you've read my blog, you know the story of J and I so I won't bore you with it here. It would also be awfully naive of me to compare the end of a relationship to the lose of a spouse.
But, the next time a friend, acquaintance or sibling, whatever, goes over their breakup/divorce for the 1000th time don't belittle his or her pain by saying, "Get over it already."
The loss of a spouse/partner is painful, no matter how it happens.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Suck My Wind
For those of you that have been reading this blog for a while, you might remember that last year I resolved to run a 5K in 2005. Like most resolutions, it didn't happen but I'm figuring this is a new year and a great time to make another go of it.
So, this year I have a plan. See, one of the local tv stations has started a running group and the goal is for all of us to run a 5K together. Last year proved that I can't do this alone, and it's my hope that doing this as part of a team will motivate me to stick with it. So far it's going well. I train on my own during the week (using the Galloway Method), and then every Saturday we meet for a practice run outdoors.
The last time I ran a 5K was in 1999. It was a "Race for the Cure" even and there were cancer patients, cancer patients just out of chemo, that spanked my ass. I was literally one of the last folks to finish. At the time it really wasn't a big deal to me, but looking back I realize that it was pretty embarrassing.
See, the thing is, I don't really think of myself as a competitive person. I'm fairly laid back, and being number one isn't really in my nature.
At least, this is what I used to think.
This past weekend I had my first outdoor practice run with the group. About 60 of us showed up so we had to run in different heats. I was part of group 5, there were maybe 9 of us in my heat.
I kept telling myself, "Don't worry about what the person next to you is doing. You are only competing with yourself." But, after lap 1, when I realized I was one of the last three my competitive spirit went all Whitney on me and, "Hell to the naw," I realized I'd have to pick it up.
I'm running about a 15 minute mile, so I'm not exactly Flo Jo out there, but it felt good and I'm working on redeeming my poor performance in '99.
But, most importantly: I came in first in my group.
Suck it, bitches.
So, this year I have a plan. See, one of the local tv stations has started a running group and the goal is for all of us to run a 5K together. Last year proved that I can't do this alone, and it's my hope that doing this as part of a team will motivate me to stick with it. So far it's going well. I train on my own during the week (using the Galloway Method), and then every Saturday we meet for a practice run outdoors.
The last time I ran a 5K was in 1999. It was a "Race for the Cure" even and there were cancer patients, cancer patients just out of chemo, that spanked my ass. I was literally one of the last folks to finish. At the time it really wasn't a big deal to me, but looking back I realize that it was pretty embarrassing.
See, the thing is, I don't really think of myself as a competitive person. I'm fairly laid back, and being number one isn't really in my nature.
At least, this is what I used to think.
This past weekend I had my first outdoor practice run with the group. About 60 of us showed up so we had to run in different heats. I was part of group 5, there were maybe 9 of us in my heat.
I kept telling myself, "Don't worry about what the person next to you is doing. You are only competing with yourself." But, after lap 1, when I realized I was one of the last three my competitive spirit went all Whitney on me and, "Hell to the naw," I realized I'd have to pick it up.
I'm running about a 15 minute mile, so I'm not exactly Flo Jo out there, but it felt good and I'm working on redeeming my poor performance in '99.
But, most importantly: I came in first in my group.
Suck it, bitches.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
The End is Near
It is clearly a sign of the apocalypse when:
1. Your mother, who has never touched a computer other than to dust it, sends you e-mail.
2. Your brother, finally, starts his own blog.
I'm going to grab S, the cats and go hunker down in our underground bunker for surely it is the end of days.
1. Your mother, who has never touched a computer other than to dust it, sends you e-mail.
2. Your brother, finally, starts his own blog.
I'm going to grab S, the cats and go hunker down in our underground bunker for surely it is the end of days.
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