new perspectives

I ran with a friend I haven't run with in for-ev-or yesterday.

What can I say? 

I was feeling like I had to step it up after R. went running after boot camp.

So I pretended like I was in high school (or still on my college crew team) and went for the two a day.

Aside from the momentary 

"where the hell are we?"/ "I think we have to go that way..." incidents,

it was a quiet run down streets I don't usually run on, though they are just a block or so away from ones I do usually run on. 

Which provides reason # three hundered zillion why I love running: new perspectives.

Only a block away from me: new houses, old houses; people wandering the street, lost; 

a runner, looking comfortable; lots of cars parked on the street; 

a car speeding (and I mean oh-my-I- thought-I was- gonna-get- run-over- by-sound fast), 

trash; dogs barking behind fences.

We covered five miles before I realized it.

I was hoping for a new perspective this morning when I rolled over, dizzy.

Not the perspective I was looking for!

I wanted to know how I'd feel after working out the morning after running the previous night.

I guess that one will have to wait. 

It feels God-awful.

I went back to bed.

Once this head fog dissapaites, I look forward to checking out more of my hood. 

I'm laughing at myself because I've lived here for over 10 years & am still discovering new things.

But I suppose this is a good thing, ya know?

Bring a Friend Day- October

ooooooooooohhhhhhh-kaaaaaayyyyy.

(insert collective group sigh.)

After getting my tookus beat in boot camp, my mind absolutely blown in school and my emotional self shoved through a meat grinder in the last few, I am ready for a break.

That break hasn't come yet, though.

(Evidently we don't all always get what we wish for.)

Le Sigh.

Oh, nooooo!

I'm so out of it I TOTALLY forgot to mention that today was bring a friend day!

I am officially The Best Blogger. Ever.

Not.

The thing is, I actually was lucky enough to have a friend join me! 

She is tough as nails. (As in, just finished a 100 mile race tough.) She is smart, funny, doesn't take crap from anyone, and has great hair. Even at 5:30 in the morning.

I kind of hate her.

Anyhow, today we went suicidal.

As in, we did suicides.

A lot of 'em.

It was kind of like the field days I had in elementary school. 

Four teams, three stations... 

had we known we could have worn color coordinated outfits!

Not that anyone can see (anything!) in the pre-dawn light, but you know...

a girl can try.

So we rocked push ups, sit ups, sprinting (over very short distances- it was way hard! Every time I got my stride, I had to sit down to do some exercise (grrrr!)), mountain climbers, burpees, other crap...

And more crap fun stuff while we waited for our team members to take their turn.

Every morning, someone says something that is so silly, ya have to laugh. 

 Monday (or was it Tuesday?) we had a conversation related to what our moms called boobs.

2 fried eggs in a handkerchief, golf ball in a sock... 

(Are you laughing hysterically or crying and threatening to burn your eyeballs at these descriptions?)

Today, after workout, my friend said something funny.

But not in a ha-ha kind of way.

She said, "Yeah, OK, that was fun, but I'm cold. So I'm gonna go run."

"But waaait! We just did!" I wanted to scream.

There have been maybe three days where I thought at the end of the workout that I'd like to go for a run.

(Not to worry, it goes away as soon as I sit down!)

The thing is, she totally did go run.

I kind of really hate her.

But I am really glad she joined me.

Soap-frigging-box

My hamstrings have been in a murderous rage for days now.

Days.

And everyday I wake up thinking that they'll be better.

And every day I wake up to find that they want to kill me.

I started wondering if perhaps they did try to kill me and the reason they hurt so badly has to do more with the imagined nightly massacre than anything I could possible so during my waking hours.

Of course that's exactly what's going on. 

Uh-hunh. 

Le sigh.

Boot camp has, once again, kicked my ass. 

hamstrings.

This murderous rage has taken my brain to new levels of soap-boxiness. 

Just ask anyone in my policy class...

Monday my professor asked me to tell the class about how this one town I used to do some work in is based on one's position in a coal company; the higher you are in the company, the higher you live on the mountain. This entire town is between the river (in the valley) and the railroad tracks. As in, ten feet out the front door there is a road and then the river (which the EPA said no one should fish from because of mine drainage, but everyone did), ten feet out the back door are four sets of railroad tracks- which are always busy- and ten feet on either side is the neighbor's house. Not yard. House.

So I'm telling the class about how when I met this one family, they had a toilet (which was tied in to the county line  by an EPA mandate to clean up the river in the late 1990's (it used to run directly into the river)) and a bathtub in their house. The tub emptied under the house. As in, I looked down the drain at the dirt a few feet under the house. The family washed their dishes, clothes, themselves and everything else in the tub. All of their water came from the tub. 

These are taxpaying American citizens with jobs.

And next to no access to health care (which is how it came up in class- is health care a right?).

And I think I started crying somewhere around the memory of looking down the drain, realizing that countless other people in this town lived the same way.

Crying.

Who does that?!

SOAP- FRIGGING- BOX.

Oh my.

(The happy ending to this story is that an awesome volunteer put a kitchen sink in the home. He also tied the bathtub into the black water line so the threat of creepy-crawlies crawling into the house went out with the bathwater.

I will love him forever for that.)

Which begs the question: is health a right?

What about health care?

I know I treasure my health.

I love the dichotomy of working for a company that promotes a healthy lifestyle while being trained in a hospital where I see acutely ill people. I see how the choices we make everyday have a direct effect on health.

Did you know that in Bhutan there is a happiness index?

Supposedly, during his wedding, the king of Bhutan asked a visiting reporter if he was having a good time- and if he was happy. 

The reporter was shocked.

In my policy class, we talk a lot about what people need versus what people deserve.

I need my hamstrings to stop screaming at me every time I move.

I deserve is a kick in the ass for crying about it.

water buffalo

I'm too busy hurting to even bother complaining.

(Now that's just sad.)

Alls I've got is 

Handstands on the TRX.

That's right.

A feat of coordination like none other.

(And you've got to know I have NO coordination- that's why I run, remember?!)

And there were push-ups. 

In a handstand.

The thing with TRX is that it makes me feel like a kid on a playground.

It doesn't help that we actually do it on a playground.

It's maybe the only reason I think I can do any of it at all.

When I was a kid, my half brother would come visit for the summer and one of the things I remember most about those trips is how he used to do push-ups in a handstand, leaning on the door.

I very clearly remember thing that there was 

NO WAY IN HELL I'd ever do one.

And then today I found myself upside down, arms shaking, my face getting closer to the ground. 

The first one was definitely the best. After that, I think I went down maybe about two inches before collapsing.

Coach Awesome made it look so damn easy! 

After I fell over for the third time post push-up, I saw the other boot campers hanging out... on their hands... making it look easy.

I want it to feel that easy.

Instead, I am a water buffalo. Out of water.

No, not like this.

More like this.

On that note, I should call my brother and tell him I did a push up like him.

Not that I'm saying he's a water buffalo, too!

In fact, I think I will call him.

As soon I can get my arms to work.

Dear 5am,

Dear 5 am,

So sorry I missed you!
I was very busy tasting ice cream samples and did not realize you had arrived.
Or that you left just as quickly.

I plan on seeing you tomorrow, though!

xoxo

I overslept.

By 2 hours.

And it was delicious!

Yes, delicious.

Morelli's chocolate ice cream with peanut butter and fudge delicious.
Salted caramel goodness.
Classic cool mint chocolate chip awesomeness.
Coffee with toffee sweetness.

I dream about food, evidently. And last night, it was ice cream.

My dream was so vivid I went to check the freezer and trash can for cartons.

Then I realized that would involve getting up.

All of this basically means I completely missed working out today.
Except that I decided to go for a run so my body wouldn't hate me for not torturing it.

And to work off my dream ice cream spree.

What is this world coming to?! Hate self for self-torture/ hate self for not?

There is no winning.

By the time I had my shoes on, I forgot all about the dream ice cream (which I totally almost called "dream cream") and proceeded to run faster than I probably otherwise would have, thanks to a running partner. Er, I tried to catch up to/ keep up with.

But running faster is supposed to make me faster, right?

I hope so! My 5K time is getting faster!

(Don't hold your breath, people. It's not fast- fast. Just fast-er.)
And I still got my butt kicked.
And I am still sore from last week.
(How??)

Dear 5am,
So, for really-reals, I will see you tomorrow.
Unless, of course, I am held up by curry, kimchi, or squash recipes.
Or ice cream.
xo

What counts as too stupid?

So for whatever reason, my body kindly decided that 3am was the appropriate time to wake up this morning. 

Yeah.

THREE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.

Balls.

Who needs sleep?

I was awake from 3 to 10 till 5, when I finally fell asleep.

Finally.

Only I was supposed to be up at 5.

To run. 

Nine miles.

Uh-hunh.

Running buddy #1is all, "hey, you coming, or what?"

Niiiice. I hate being late.

(Thanks, Mom, now I'm neurotic. But that is a story for another day...)

Anyhoo, when we finally made it to our meeting spot, we decided that 9 miles would be down- graded to 6 so that M (a girl so sweet I would have to pinch myself to prove she's real- save for that wicked streak of sarcasm) could get to work on time.

Four of us headed out into the darkness, running together for the first time. 

Actually, it was just my first time. The others have known each other for a minute. 

Within a mile, we were joking and laughing. 

Yay! Fun running! Please don't let me do/ say anything too stupid!

We turned down one street and could hear the train. When we could see the train, it was barely moving.

And then it stopped.

Right in the middle of the intersection.

J: "We could jump it."

M: Uh, no."

Me: "Well, it's not going anywhere."

Two turned around.

"Let's go!"

And with that, I was over the train.

The others quickly joined me.

I've always wanted to jump a train.

Winning!

Um, what was that I said about not doing anything too stupid?

Yo' Mama

Sometimes writing this blog is like a never ending yo' mama joke:

Today's workout was so hard....

blah, blah, blah...

Yeah. It's hard to be me, I know.

But the thing is, today's joke is really good!

Today's workout was so damn hard I fell asleep. 

On the floor.

In public.

Yeah. 

But before you go thinking I've developed some kind of narcolepsy overnight, hear me out.

Directly after this morning's test, I was in the library with some friends trying to regain my senses and kind of fell out of my chair/ dove onto the floor where I preceded to sleep.

For an hour.

I have stooped to new levels of low.

sigh.

Obviously, the joke's on me. 

I mean, who knew stepping up on a chair could be so bloody hard?

Anyhoo, if you need me, I'll be napping.