Already ahead of myself

At this time last year I was sick. Visit the doctor, stay in bed, run a fever sick. Not sick enough to bail on my New Year's plans, but sick enough to miss out on the entire weekend once I got there. The simple fact that I'm upright today - instead of sprawled out on my bed with no energy to roll over -  puts me way ahead of myself.

Let's face it: I did not rush into 2009 with my A game. I don't even think I limped to the New Year's starting line until May or June. I'm pretty sure I lost about 12 days in January. I have blank spots of missing conversations. I'm just starting to regain my cardio capacity and get back my muscle mass. I'm finally healthy. I lost out on six months, and it took nine or 10 to really start feeling better. I'm pretty happy to be bidding this year goodbye. Thrilled, really. Beset by a sense of joy I haven't felt in a very long time.

But now that I am better, things are looking up. The half marathon is in about 5 weeks, and I'm well trained and feeling pretty good about it. There's a tropical vacation in my future - my first real vacation since 2007 - and many visits planned with family and friends in the next six months. I'll be attending more joyful occasions and, hopefully, less sad ones. 2010 may just be my year, but even if it's not, it's bound to be much better than the past two.

In the spirit of looking for the silver lining, I've been thinking this week about the positives that came out of 2009. I couldn't find a whole lot, but this year did have a few good moments:

• My photos were in two exhibits this year;

• I rode a mechanical bull;
  

• I think I've learned how to be a better friend, and discovered that I've got some amazingly kind, generous, and honest people in my life;

• I've rediscovered - and perhaps perfected - the fine art of lounging aimlessly on the couch; 

• I learned that my asthma is very sensitive to cold water - thankfully I learned this BEFORE race day;

• I've learned how to forcefully enforce limits and boundaries in order to take care of myself;

• The Mermaid 10K race was probably the best I've ever walked;

• I think I've figured out what I want out of a career. Stay tuned while I try to pursue it;

• I'm pretty sure I'll never take a nice day or a long walk or a slow bike ride for granted again; and
  

• I think I've learned to seize today, and to never spend a day on the sidelines. Because tomorrow I could lose my opportunity.

Perhaps battling mono for the better part of the year wasn't the most comfortable way to learn these lessons, but one wouldn't have come without the other. Really, though, I could do without another learning experience of such magnitude for awhile. I'm still kind of tired from this one.

More tales from my hometown

I didn't get out much while I was in NY, prefering to spend my days inside, where it was slightly warmer and less windy/wet/snowy than it was outside. I'm really not made for winter weather. And the intensity of it this year was very difficult for my sunsoaked California bones. But we did make it out in the middle of a huge rainstorm on Saturday to hear a friend's band play.

We've known one member of the band for at least two decades. He's a good family friend. I've known the lead singer/songwriter since the mid-1990s, when I bused tables in the bar he and his sister often performed in. The band is awesome. We - my mom, sister, and I - sat through two and a half sets, talking to the musicians and each other and making new friends.

In the second set, the band busted out an original song called Such a Waste of Pretty Face. I can't find the mp3, but I can tell you it's a pretty harsh indictment of the songwriter's ex-girlfriend, and how she may be beautiful, but she has no heart.  And you know you live in a small town when, as the song starts, your mom leans over and tells you the song is about the sister of her across-the-street neighbor.

There used to be a diner there, and other tales from my hometown

In high school, the biggest hang out around was the Thru-way Diner. As its name suggests, it was a diner located just off one of the New York State Thruway exits. For a rest stop, it was pretty classy. The restrooms were usually spotless. An always-full bowl of mints sat on the counter at the front door. It was open 24 hours almost every day.

But mostly, it was the one spot in the area where hoards of high school kids from communities throughout the county could hang out without paying a lot of money or courting trouble. I could walk in on a Saturday night and be assured I'd run into classmates and friends from other schools.

I spent countless hours in booths and tables there, talking with friends, celebrating milestones, and rehashing defeats. Theater production? Head to Thru-way after closing night. Quiet summer evening? Milkshakes from Thru-way. Late night track meet? Thru-way was a great place to refuel after the hours long bus ride home. For awhile, a classmate's mom waited tables there in the evenings. Sometimes she comped our Cokes. Usually she just hassled us for being loud.

I guess the owners wanted to sell the business. Apparently, nobody wanted to buy it. The diner closed last year amid rumors that condos would be built in its place. But that plan seems to have failed. Yesterday, I went shopping at Walgreens in what used to be the diner parking lot. I was kind of hoping for a sign, or something to mark the greatness of what once stood on that lot.

So much has changed since I moved away. New construction and condo developments have caused a population boom. The addition to the high school has accommodated twice as many kids as were there when I was. It's really no longer the town I grew up in. And yet, when I run into somebody I know while walking through town, or when I see an item in the town newspaper about a kid I went to school with, I see vestiges of the place I grew up, the little town where it seemed like everybody really did know your name.

May your days be merry and bright

And may your Christmases only be white if you really, really like the snow. 

Rest Day Recap: when it's so cold that even the mail carrier drives

I headed out around 11:15 on Saturday morning, unwilling to fight the jet lag to get up early, but hoping to get in 9 miles before the snow started. When I left the house it was about 28 degrees. I was wearing my tights, an Underarmour compression top, and two other layers. I had on an ear warmer band and a wool baseball cap. And big gloves. I wasn't sure I'd make it down the block.

My plan was to stick close to the house for the first few miles, figuring I could walk loops through the neighborhood to decide if I could really stay out for two hours. After two miles my nose and cheeks numbed, but my gloved fingers stayed comfortable. I wasn't exactly enjoying this walk, but I was going to do it. Aside from the miserable cold of waiting at the stoplights, I was doing ok.

The air was so cold and dry that it hurt my nose to breath, and my lungs weren't too happy either. But my asthma never kicked in, so I left the safety of the sidewalks close to home and ventured through town.

I walked through town, past shops and homes I hadn't seen in years. Past the new post office, I walked up the hill near the train station and under the underpass. I saw dagger-like icicles hanging from the top and sides, and puddles had frozen on the sidewalk. I wasted to take some pictures, but it was too cold to stop. But it still wasn't snowing, so I kept going.

At the four mile mark the flurries started, and I needed the bathroom. I stopped at a gas station where our town borders New York City, and my lips were so cold it was hard to ask for the restroom key. The bathroom heat was cranked to about 80 degrees, so I hung out in the stall for a few minutes warming up before heading back towards the house. I grabbed a Gu, and, after holding it for a few minutes, it was warm enough to eat. My granola bar, on the other hand, was pretty much frozen solid.

By this point I'd only seen about a dozen other people outside, including three runners and another walker. None of us had the capacity to chat, but we all smiled as we passed each other. We may all be a little nuts, but at least we were all having fun.

By mile 6 the wind had picked up and the snow flurries had intensified, now feeling more like small hail stones than soft fluffy snowflakes. The water in my bottle had not frozen, but the plastic bottle was so cold it was hard to get water out of it. I half-pondered calling my mom to pick me up, but I really wanted to finish. I wasn't exactly cold, but I was far from warm. My hips were tight and I couldn't warm up enough to feel comfortable, but I made pretty good time and made it back to the house just a minute or two after I'd predicted. 

My 10 miler next weekend will depend on the thaw. I'm not sure I can subject myself two weekends of sucn intense cold. And I'm not a fan of walking along icy sidewalks. Though my brother did lend me a fleece face mask, so at least next weekend I can have a conversation with the folks at the gas station.

Homeward Bound

Family and cheesecake and NY pizza! I can't wait for my plane to land tomorrow afternoon.

A few drinks in, hysterics ensue

I wasn't particularly in a party mood last night as I sat on my couch contemplating the only Christmas party I had committed to this year. It's an annual event I really enjoy, and while I wanted to go and see some friends and catch up with people I only see at this party, I just wasn't really feeling it. Last year, it killed me to miss this party. Friends asked me to fly home from New York for a weekend just to attend. I wanted to want to go. So I went.

I talked and laughed and wished at least 100 people Merry Christmas. I caught up with a friend recovering from an illness. Chatted with a friend embarking on her first full Ironman in 2010. I talked a lot about my impending trip to New York and missing my family and not having seen them all year. I ate and drank and had a great time. Until I ran into the friend whose mom died last year.

I can't say that we had a bad conversation, but it was very upsetting. Add to that a few drinks and some significant holiday stress, and I created the perfect cocktail for a meltdown. I held it together until I left the party, and then I. Lost. My. Shit. In the front seat of my friend's car. At 11 pm. Thankfully, she had a box of tissues handy. Sadly, she's been through this herself.

I'm not sure that I was at all coherent through the sobbing. I don't think I could get many words out through the gasping breath and running nose. I'm not attractive when I cry, and this was far beyond tearing up at a sad movie. I sobbed. We talked. I sobbed some more. This went on for about an hour before I calmed down enough to get out of the car.

I eventually cried myself to sleep, and woke up this morning with what I can only describe as a crying hangover. I was sore and my eyes ached and they were all red and puffy.  The last dregs of my mascara had settled in the creases around my eyes. My throat was sore and my voice scratchy. I got to work and a colleague thought I had a cold. 

My dad died 360 days ago, and I miss him in a way that defies description. I don't even really have the words to explain how sad and lonely and angry and abandoned I feel. The intensity and volatility of my emotions is a little scary, and kind of overwhelming. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced. Some days it's easier to deal with the big, gaping hole his death has left in my life. Yesterday was definitely not one of those days. And the remaining days leading up to the first anniversary of his death and then Christmas don't look like they're going to be a walk in the park either.

I've mostly opted out of the holiday frenzy this year, and until this morning I wasn't too sure if that was a good idea. Now I know it is. I think I've had my last cocktail of the Christmas season. I know I've gone to my last holiday gathering, and I'm really relieved. Christmas cheer can suck it this year.

Hark the Herald Angels Run 12K. Or 5K. Or, you know, a nice little walk in the rain

When a friend suggested a few months ago that we sign up for the Hark the Herald Angels Run on Angel Island, I was pretty excited. What's not to like about a 12K up and down a mountain on an island in the middle of the San Francisco Bay? I've hiked this trail before, and it's beautiful. The 12K portion of a 12 and 25K race accommodated walkers, as long as we finished in 3.5 hours. I figured we'd finish in less than two.

The weather this week called for thunderstorms on the Island. I can count on two fingers the number of times I've seen thunder and lightening in the eight years I've lived here. But that didn't deter me. Neither did the cold and rain. Or the inability to see out of my glasses in a downpour. Or the mud.

I got up this morning excited to walk roughly 7.2 miles in the rain and mud and cold. I checked the website, and despite high winds and a storm warning, the race was still on.  I waited in line and boarded the ferry to the Island stoked for some time on the trails. And then the race director started making some announcements: the 25K had been scrapped, and the 12K time limit was 1.5 hours. The 12:20 ferry might be the last one leaving the Island today, and we all needed to be on it.

Huh. None of that was on the website this morning. I was kind of bummed, both because I wouldn't be able to walk the whole course and because my training calendar called for 9 miles today, so I'll have to do another rain-soaked walk this weekend, when I'd hoped to only do one. 

But we regrouped, made a plan, and took off on a short out and back course. Along the way we helped an ill runner, made some friends, dispensed some trail knowledge, and really had a good, wet, muddy time.

We admired the view from several angles:

 

 

And really, it can't be a bad storm if you can still see the Bridge. We walked for about 40 minutes up the mountain before heading back to the finish. After numerous stops to clear the trail for runners (because the loop course had been changed to an out and back, or everyone took the wrong trail - I'm still not sure) we made it to the finish area, but didn't even get the chance to cross the finish line. The race director sent us straight to the t-shirt pickup tent for our shirts and snacks.

Now dripping and muddy, we made our way to the ferry dock. That boat waited for every last race participant to board, and we were lucky to get a seat. But I was sad to leave behind such a mess.

Oh, I almost forgot. I spent some time on Friday night trying to track down a suitable fix to keep the rain off of my glasses. I found a snorkel mask in my favorite color combination. It even matched my race day outfit.

But it wasn't really raining enough to justify its use. And also, with the mask on, I can't wear a hat. But I think it's an idea that deserves some experimenting. Because I don't look ridiculous at all.

'Cuz baby, it's cold outside

We've confirmed around the Internet that it's cold in Northern California right now, and we're not happy about it. So, while we bundle up and try to be happy in old, drafty buildings, I present Summer, the 2009 edition:

Rest day recap, or, how I failed to account for winter

San Francisco is having a cold snap. A cold-enough-to-snow snap. Seriously. This morning there was snow on the hills at low elevation. I may have grown up in New York, but my blood has thinned and my West Coast-acclimated body can't really handle the cold. And on Saturday I had to walk eight miles in it. But at least it wasn't raining.

I walked hard this weekend, but I really failed to warm up until the last 1.5 uphill miles. I sniffled and shivered a little and wished I'd worn gloves. And I battled a headwind. Both ways. But the skies were pretty clear and the sun shining over the Headlands was really beautiful. 

Now that I'm recovered from my cold, and approaching the two-month mark until the half marathon, I wonder if I may have overestimated winter. The rain forecast for the next week means I'll probably do most of my workouts at the end of the day, in the dark, instead of on my lunch hour. And I'll be pretty waterlogged by the time I leave for NY next weekend. And when I get there, it'll probably snow. Just as I'm ready to try my first double digit mile walk. And the chances of a storm on race day are pretty good. When I did the 5K portion of this race in 2008, it even hailed a little.

So I've pulled out all my cold weather gear, and I'm ready for the elements. My only real concern is my glasses. I need them to see, and without contacts, I wear them all the time. And it's hard to see through them if I'm being pelted with rain. My sister suggested I wear my swim goggles, and it's a good idea. But I'm thinking I may try to track down a snorkel mask and wear it over my glasses. I've been thinking about buying snorkel gear for my trip to Hawaii, and this way I'll really get my money's worth.

In the parking wars, apparently orthodontists have the upper hand

I was less than two blocks from home when I saw the police car cruise down my street. In my new neighborhood this is a little unusual, so I took notice. And then I saw the cop. Standing in my doorway. Trying to work my building's intercom system. It was dark out, and this was a little disconcerting.

I could hear her walkie talkie before I actually saw her, and the static only partially disguised the voices. It sounded like she was communicating with somebody about a domestic dispute. And then she saw me.

"Are you coming in?" she asked as I grabbed my keys to open the mailbox. "Do you know the people in apartments four and eight? I have to tow their cars."

Now, parking in my neighborhood is rough, and the parking enforcement unit is pretty harsh. The officers will stand at the top of the hill and, as soon as the meters on the block expire or street cleaning hours go into effect, will walk down the street doling out $175 tickets like mini-sausage samples at Costco. In a city with 20,000 parking spots for 40,000 cars, the parking wars are ugly.

But this woman was standing at my front door. Trying to track down my neighbors before their cars disappeared.

I asked her a little more about her visit: there were a bunch of spots on the next block that were temporarily a no stopping zone, and two of my neighbors' cars were parked there. The tow truck was 20 minutes away, and she couldn't reach either neighbor through our intercom system.

Her story sounded legitimate. She was in uniform and wearing a badge and was probably not trying to get into the building to kill and rob us, so I let her in. The woman in apartment four is my neighbor, and we roused her from a nap with a little bit of pounding. She grabbed her keys and ran down the stairs, and returned having saved her car.

The couple in number eight were a little trickier. The vehicle that needed to be moved was his motorcycle. But she was the only one home and didn't have a motorcycle license. And he had the keys. So, while on the phone with him, she went to stand by his bike, hoping she could pursuade the tow truck operator to wait for her boyfriend.

While the folks in number eight were on the phone, I asked about an occasion that would wipe out a block's worth of parking. Apparently, a group of orthodontists were having their annual holiday party. And they reserved the spots near the restaurant. The fact that anybody other than a construction crew could do this was news to me, but the officer said that as long as the reserved spots weren't otherwise in use - I think she meant in a hospital or school zone - anybody could reserve them. The fees are probably really helpful to this cash-strapped city, but the execution in this case was questionable. The No Stopping signs are supposed to be posted 72 hours before the event. Both neighbors parked there less than 48 hours before Friday evening, and both say there were no signs.

But, accurate signage or not, nobody's car got towed on Friday. And I'm pretty sure my assistance to the neighbor in number four negates our first meeting - when, at 1:15 am, she knocked on my door wearing pajamas, asking me and a couple of late night guests to be quiet because she was trying to sleep.

Notre Dame at Stanford

Things didn't go to well for the Fighting Irish last weekend, but the game was fun, and the tailgate was epic. It made me briefly consider a PhD, just to go to a school with a football team. But that fleeting thought was halted by my realization that I'd be unable to go to the football games because I'd be too busy working. So I'll continue to root for teams with which I have no affiliation.