10k

Last Friday I read an article outlining the upcoming Dexter-Ann Arbor Run. I found out I could still sign up for the 5k, 10k, and half marathon races even though they were only 2 days away. After reviewing the route maps, I saw that the 10k started and finished right next to my work place, where I could park ridiculously conveniently and for free. The weather looked decent, I felt in good health, and I could think of no further excuses for why I shouldn't attempt my first 10k race.

As I've only ever once run that far without stopping, I didn't want to make a big deal about it and freak myself out. I've been running at least 3 miles/week for several months, but my legs sometimes feel like rigid planks the entire time, and I never know if running is going to feel good on a given day or not. Matthew thoughtfully looked up race day advice on the internet and made sure I packed protein bars to eat before and after as well as dry clothes to change into. I almost succeeded in not getting myself too nervous except for the dreams I had the night before about being late to the race and having to cover the ground with words as I ran (a conflation with NaNoWriMo, no doubt).

When the time came to finally awake on Sunday morning, I felt so excited to get out there and start running. I wanted to challenge myself, and I came ready to battle with God the whole way, struggling with the mental and physical pursuit. I arrived right on time to find over 1,000 runners lined up to run the 10k with me!

At the start, most people stood in groups chatting with friends. I felt a pinch sad that I had come alone, but extremely glad to not be lining up with my friend Yuri at the half-marathon start, her daily training having better prepared her for such a feat (Perhaps another time I can talk her down to the 10k...). Eventually, we runners in the back noticed that someone was singing the National Anthem and quieted down just in time for "the land of the free..." Not long after, the group began walking forward, and I couldn't tell if the race had begun or we were crowding to the start line. Perhaps both. I crossed the starting line about a minute and a half after the race had officially commenced.

Runners took up both lanes of the road as we headed north on Main Street. I started out slower than my usual running pace, partly out of fear of the miles to come, and partly because of the difficulty of running amongst so many people. By mile 1, where a volunteer band sat playing the Rocky theme on repeat, we started to spread out and the running got easier without as much jockeying for position. Just after mile 2 is where the guy in the lead passed me on his way back to the finish line, almost at his 4th mile. Some people in front of me clapped and cheered for him while the rest of us pressed on further north.

It wasn't until I made it to mile 4 that I gained complete confidence that I could make it the whole way, at which point I picked up my pace to at least the 10 minute/mile pace at which I train on the treadmill. I knew it would be uphill at the end (one of the features for which the Dexter-Ann Arbor run is known), but the finish would be nearly in sight, and I would manage. I realized I hadn't had to coax the steps out of myself the whole way like I sometimes do when I'm running at the gym, and it felt amazing. With so much to look at and so many people to watch, I was happy with my decision not to listen to music or carry a phone to check the time. Some people chatted while running, and I enjoyed hearing snippets of their conversations. But it felt so free to just be me, my legs moving like running was my modus operandi, nothing to carry, following the herd towards triumph and the rest of a beautiful summer day.

As I ran toward the finish, I took a moment to thank God for all the parts of me that work. My flexible ankles keep me from falling when I take a misstep, my leg muscles contract and release to pound the pavement repeatedly for over an hour, my healthy heart pumps blood to and from my extremities, and my lungs take in the fresh air to supply the blood with oxygen as the whole machine that is me motors on down the road.

I finished with an energizing sense of accomplishment in just over an hour with a 10:04min/mi pace, placing 559th out of 1,147 runners. The rest of the day as I wore my finisher's medal around the house, I felt something akin to invincibility, and when I met up with Nick, Yuri, Matt, and Andrea at the Taste of Ann Arbor for lunch, I felt like I could eat anything because I'd run 6 miles and gotten over 10,000 steps all before 9am. I'd do it all again, and I fully intend to. As I continue to run for fun and exercise, as well as strive to keep myself in good working order, I hope I can remember the unexpected joy I found in completing that 10k. I won't get a medal for my efforts every day, but I do daily get a chance to choose perseverance over resignation and adventure over fear.

Gambling with Vegas

When Matt was invited to speak at a work conference in Vegas, I got excited about tagging along so that afterwards we could head out into the desert and see some stars. I'd been reading a book called The End of Night which had gotten me really geeked about dark places and preserving the ability to star gaze, even though I don't know anything about what stars I'm gazing at. I could think of someone who does, though, and thought my vacation experience would be greatly enhanced with his presence. With little more than a month's notice, I took a chance and emailed my astronomy-loving friend Josh whom I hadn't seen since grad school:

"What are the chances you and Kristen want to fly towards Vegas the weekend of May 2nd to drive out into the desert and look at stars and dirt and rocks and stuff? In my ideal world, you're looking at your calendar holding a wad of spare cash and thinking "gosh, it's been like 9 years since I saw those crazy Dulls--we should plan a trip in May to hang out with them!" In my slightly less ideal world, you're reading this email chuckling to yourself about my persistent ignorance and naivety in life, but you're a nice guy and so will at least set me straight on my star gazing plans. In my living nightmare, you agree to come but only if we stay at the Clown Motel. So give it to me straight: what kind of world am I living in?"

Several hours later he responded:

"I definitely would like to see those crazy Dulls and regularly wish they lived closer to us for hanging out. Game-playing, craft-beer-loving, home-ownering librarian-type couples being in relatively scarce supply. Well, get this. By coincidence it so happens we are going to be in Arizona for a trip to the Grand Canyon area right around the time you guys will be in Vegas. I am very scared of that clown motel."

I did my best to compensate for Josh's characteristic understatement by replying to his email with no fewer than 6 "omg"s. Las Vegas is a mere 4 hours from the Grand Canyon and Arizona is a perfect place to view the stars! Jackpot! Vacation plans quickly fell into place.

A little over a month later in a brew pub in Sedona, Arizona, we Dulls reunited with Josh, and met his fantastic wife, Kristen, for the first time. In addition to being enjoyable company, they are also excellent planners, and Matt and I pretty much leeched on to their vacation plans in lieu of researching our own (Librarian friends are so useful!). Over the next several days, we would meet up in Flagstaff to play games and drink local beers, and take a day trip together out to Walnut Canyon and Meteor Crater. We also stopped by the Lowell Observatory to view the moon, Mars, and Jupiter through the observatory's sizable telescopes. It all made for a great vacation! Click through to my Flickr album to see our pictures.

Right Now's Favorite Things

Drinks with friends.

Wall of inspirations at my studio.

Kitty peeking out the window in the morning.

Tall, pretty shoes.

A day's FitBit graph that looks like this.

Hind Sight

Sometimes I narrate my daily goings-on to myself in my head to practice describing things even if I never write it down.

This morning when I walked into the bathroom at my studio building, I thought it smelled funny, but I didn't know like what, so I went about washing my coffee mugs before heading to the stall. The first stall, I noticed, had not yet been cleaned (oftentimes the toilet seats are still up when I go in there in the morning) but also had not successfully been flushed after its last use. A #2 was still in the pot from the day before, or perhaps over the weekend, given that it had largely disintegrated and turned the water the murkiest of browns. I decided to be a good lass and go in there and try to flush it. It's the kind of toilet that you have to hold the handle down on, so I could imagine how the remaining turd was an honest mistake. I held my breath and the handle, waiting to see the outcome. Alas, it didn't all go down this time either, but at least most of the brown water had been replaced with clean. The toilet bowl was still really stained and the room still smelled rank, so in a split second decision I decided to leave the turd as an explanation for the custodian, who I had seen in the hall prior to coming into the bathroom. I proceeded to the next stall to make my own deposit, but made sure everything flushed completely down.

I returned the the bathroom later in the morning, and only then did it occur to me that I should not have left a turd for the custodian to find, for he would be as likely as not to think it was mine since he had seen me go into the restroom. And he would think it had been a doozy, too, given the lingering putrid smell! Worse than not knowing that I had done him a small favor, he would now think I'd left him a trap!

"Hind sight," I thought. "Which would make a perfect title for this narrative if I wanted to blog it." So I did. You're welcome?

Another analytical post about friends

When in a group of n friends, where n is greater than 2 and less than or equal to 5, the conversation depth and style often default to the level of the least strong relationship, in order to be inclusive and polite. Topics and comfort levels of the deeper relationships among subsets of the friends are checked at the door, and efforts are concentrated on bringing the newest friends up to speed, or at the very least courteously not conversing only in inside jokes. However, the more established relationships should continue to be nurtured or they will tend to regress. Ideally, this nurturing can happen outside of designated group activities and in a way so as not to exclude or devalue the newer relationships, but they must be given the opportunity to experience their previously attained depth of connection or risk abandoning it altogether.

These are my general observations, at least, and the models fit much of the personal data against which I compared it. Have you notice similar dynamics amongst groups of your acquaintances?

I have experienced these situations at various times from different vantage points. I have been the new girl hoping to join an established group, and I have been the old friend sacrificing a part of my long-held relationship hoping it will expand to include another. My time as the new girl reminds old friend to not be selfish, and my time as old friend reminds new girl to be patient and not so jealous. I am grateful to have had enough friends in my three decades of life to allow for the gathering of this empirical data, and I assure you that my frequent analysis of friendships has not detracted from my enjoyment of them in the least!

Internals

Could the key to the intestinal distress I've been feeling since January be all in my head? A results of too much internalized stress, anxiety, and empathy? Have years of worrying what other people think about me, worrying that I am not helping other people enough, worrying that there will always be something to worry about, and worrying that I worry too much finally caught up with me?

I am afraid of wasting time, wasting resources. I try to care too deeply. What am I trying to accomplish? What am I trying to prove? Am I just trying to get people to care about me back? What if my care is only selfish and I'm doing it all wrong? If I'm not okay with positive byproducts accidentally coming out of selfishness then my whole life may be worthless.

I want to be like everyone else, and I want to be unique. I can't very well be anything but either and both. A paradox. I know this isn't deep, only tortured. I am one of those people who put their feelings on the Internet for others to read. What would compel me? I am ashamed of it myself, why would I want to share it? What does it mean if I can't even figure out my own motivations? I am adrift in a sea of questions trying to hold together a raft made of driftwood answers. (That sounds like it might be a good analogy but it is not. The imagery is mildly interesting, but it doesn't make any sense, does it?)

I've noticed a few times recently that in conversations I've gotten talking and then couldn't remember what point I was trying to make, or what question I was trying to answer. I think people must do this all the time because many people don't make sense when they are talking. I do not really wish to be one of these people, but once, in the moment, I pretended I was and acted as if that was normal. I did not apologize for getting off course like I normally would, and I did not check to see if the other person noticed I hadn't made a point. In each instance, my conversation partner just went with it and found something to say back! How extraordinary! And how gracious. As I do want to be an advocate for sensible conversations, I will try not to make a habit of forgetting my point, but it's nice to know I have options.

(Did you read that last sentence and wonder what "options" I was referring to? A good writer would have made it clear she meant options of how to handle it if I did forget my point, not options of forgetting my point or not. She would also probably not waste your time and call her credibility into question by pointing out her writing foibles. Alas, sometimes you read the blog of the confused amateur writer you know, not the blog of the polished professional writer you don't know. For which, bless you!)

Gluten-Free and Lactose-Free Foods, Part II

I'm now in my 6th week of gluten-free eating. It has gotten easier while remaining difficult all at the same time:

Forbidden double chocolate stout...

But I'm collecting lots of data, so let's get to it!

The Applegate hotdogs were not my thing. I bought a different kind the next time, and the cashier at Trader Joe's said, "Have you tried the Applegate hotdogs? They're my favorite." I had to politely disagree due to their lack of hotdog flavor.

As for the feel good foods egg rolls, have I ever eaten an egg roll from frozen that was decent? No. Not sure why I thought gluten-free ones would be any better.

The Hummuz crackers, like the Applegate hotdogs above, are not strictly marketed to the Gluten-Free crowd. I like crackers, and I like olive tapenade, so I thought why not? My cracker intake has shot up noticably in proportion to my decrease in bread consumption. These, however, will not even be finished let alone purchased again. When Matt first tasted one, he thought it was stale. I just thought it was gross.

The frozen battered cod was legitimately good! I would buy it again, but from Busch's this time where I saw them this weekend ($6.99) instead of Whole Foods where I bought it them first time ($9.99).

I've made Pamela's Chocolate Chunk Cookie Mix twice now, with different results, but both delicious. I used almond milk and the vegetable-based butter substitute seen in my last post to make delicious lactose- and gluten-free cookies.

The Bold pizza is one of the best frozen pizzas I've ever had, which is saying something because this one didn't even have real cheese. It wasn't cheap, but it was organic, so you're paying for the alternate recipe crust AND the all-organic ingredients. But I would totally recommend it. Processed convenience foods that are moderately healthy and delicious are hard to find.