You Capture - Spring

Phasing out the old shoes, breaking in the new shoes. Training plan and race confirmation hanging on the fridge. Must be spring.

(PS - The bananas have nothing to do with anything. I just thought they looked pretty sitting on the counter.)

(PPS - Runners eat bananas. In the springtime. There. I made it tie in. Marginally.)

See more spring at Beth's.

Everything I Need to Know About Time Travel I Learned from Best Friend

Best Friend and I, we share the Cher love. (I sound just like her in the car. I may have mentioned that before.) The greatest Cher/Best Friend Moment? Best Friend and I were on the phone during the commercial break of some televised concert, and as the show comes back on Best Friend says "I gotta go! She's turning back time!" I, of course, fully understood. Because if I could turn back time, I'd take back those words that would hurt you, too. Just like Cher.

Best Friend and I, we also share the Quantum Leap Love. Seriously, how could we not? I mean, after all, theorizing that one could time travel within his own lifetime, Dr.Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap Accelerator and vanished. He awoke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own, striving to put right what once went wrong. And hoping each time that his next leap would be the leap home. (Yes, I totally have the opening monologue memorized. I mean, I have the whole series on DVD.) How do you not love this show? I mean, the two-parter where first Sam leaps into himself at age 16 and gets to see his family again, and then leaps directly into his brother's platoon in Vietnam and sees Al being lead off as a POW? Just hand me some tissue and leave me be for two hours.

If I could time travel, I'd want to do it like Sam Beckett. Or Cher. Either one. And, you know, fix things that didn't quite work out right the first time around. And I'd take Best Friend with me (since it's all her fault I like this stuff anyway).

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tell it to me tuesdays

Sometimes I cheat.

So, I went mostly vegan back in February. And that's been a very good thing, overall.

But sometimes you're at the grocery store, picking up some Tofurky and veganaise, and you turn around, and you're staring right at Ben and Jerry.



And they have a new flavor. And it's a limited edition. (Meaning it won't be around forever, you know. It's limited.)


And it's a convergence of all things good and true. And you just have to.

Just for the record, I love you, Ben and Jerry, with your opposition to recumbent bovine growth hormone, and your commitment to using the finest quality ingredients you can purchase by fair and sustainable means from small farms around the world, and in spite of the fact that you try to tell me there are four servings of ice cream in that container when we all know there's only one.

I do love you so.

Because I am.

I am a runner.

This is a fundamental piece of the puzzle of me.

Running is not just a way for me to keep fit. It's not just a hobby.

Running is a way of life. It affects what I do and don't do, and when I do and don't do it, on a daily basis. It affects what I do and don't eat, when I go to sleep at night, when I wake up in the morning. I just turned down a chance to earn some extra money at work because I need to do a long run that morning. It affects everything.

Running is one of my greatest joys and greatest frustrations. Most of my favorite "life stories" involve running in some way. Most of my proudest accomplishments involve running. The only magazine I subscribe to is Runner's World. If I listed my top five happiest moments, three involve running.

And I've spent years pretending it's not such a big thing.

I never wear running related apparel or running shoes if I'm not running. I never wear race shirts if I'm not running (even the ones I love and don't want to wear to run because I don't want to ruin them because I want them to be "real" clothes). I have a box in the basement filled with medals from marathons I've run. I have another box in the basement filled with other assorted awards (like wooden shoes, random trophies, stained glass pine trees, etc.). There are no race related photos or posters on display in my home or classroom. If someone asks how a race went (if there's even any knowledge that I ran a race at all), I say "fine" and move on.

Why? Why do I do that? Why do I give no credence, no respect, to something that is so vital to my existence?

Because I don't want to seem like a show-off. And I don't want to seem like a poser. And I worry I'm not good enough.

That's the reason. That has always been the reason. And you know what? It's a stupid reason. Because I'm not a show-off. And I'm not a poser. (And I'll always worry I'm not good enough.)

I see runner people who are show-offs. I see runner people who are posers. I see runner people who are just runner people. Lots of people in all categories.

And I know what category I fall in to.

So those really awesome race shirts I've got? I'm going to start wearing them (like, out in public!). And that really cute photo of Hubby and me where I've got a medal around my neck? It's going in a frame. I may even turn a wooden shoe into a pencil holder.

I'm going to stop denying my love and just be a runner.

Because I am a runner.

You Capture - Sweet

Home Sweet Home

Heaven is under our feet, as well as over our heads.

-Henry David Thoreau

Happy Earth Day!

See more at Beth's.

It all started...

It all started because I love to fill out surveys. Questionnaires, opinion polls, quizzes, I love them all. And I saw an ad that said "take our free online survey today." Okay! Love to!

I didn't know that taking the survey entered your name into a data base.

I didn't know that when your name is entered in the data base, you get sent "matches."

I didn't know that I would be curious about these matches.

I didn't know that I would be willing to pay money to satisfy my curiosity.

I didn't know that I'd feel like, for spending that money, I should at least talk to someone.

I didn't know that the someone I chose to talk to would be someone.

I didn't know I would end up married because I love to fill out surveys.

But I did.

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tell it to me tuesday

number four

I got an email from a friend today. Just a simple question - How do you feel on the second anniversary of your Boston Marathon?

And that was enough to start me on the slide down to depressed, seeing as how my main running goal this spring is to make it through a half marathon without having to walk, and just two short years ago I was good enough for Boston.


But just as I was going to start typing out my reply, I happened to glance up at the board next to my computer. My eyes focused on a paper that's been hanging there all year - The Noble Eightfold Path. I put it there as a "daily reminder" for myself, but I'm usually too caught up in the "daily madness" to notice it.

But today. Eyes right to Number Four. Right Thought - avoid dwelling on the past or the future.


You mean like I was just doing? Dwelling on both the past and the future at the same time, and not in a fond, happy way?


Okay then.


That leaves the present. Right here. Right now.


That makes sense.


Why be sad about a really good thing that already happened? Why be upset about something that hasn't even happened yet?


That's stupid, right?


This is life. Nothing can be like it was. Life moves. It grows. It changes.


What's real is now.


And right now, I can go for a run.

Maybe I should look at that board more often.

scenes from a poetry reading

It's amazing to me to see his whole process. To see all the little slips of paper, random napkins or envelopes, lying around the house on which he'll jot down one or two lines that came to him in the car or some other random time. To see him turn those random lines into a poem. To see him spend free moments, or work into the night after working a "real job" all day, to turn those poems into a book of poetry. To see him sitting up in front of a group of people reading those poems from those books. To see people buying his books. It's amazing to me. And I'm amazingly proud.

It was a good day today.

You Capture - Fresh

See more at Beth's.

Hubby reads poetry.

So, April is National Poetry Month.

And Hubby is a poet.

He currently has four books of poetry published. He's working on the fifth now.

And on Saturday, he'll be the entertainment portion of the local chocolate shop's National Poetry Month Celebration.

I'm pretty excited.

He'll read, and tell stories about the poems. And there are food and drink specials. And chocolate.

I think it will be pretty great.

Feel free to stop by, if you're in the area.

You can learn more here, here, or here.

A post about boobs. Or proportion. Or my neurosis.

I can't remember a day where I looked at my reflection and was really satisfied (happy?) with the image staring back at me.

Because I am proportionally challenged.

See, my breasts are small. Like, small. Seriously. An "a" cup is too big. I need some type of couch cushion foam sewn into a bra cup to make it look like there's anything there. Because really, there isn't.

And that wouldn't be so bad if my top half matched my bottom half. But my bottom half is round. Like, round. Hips, bum, thighs, tummy. The whole round package.

So there is nothing on top and everything on the bottom.

And pretty much every day, to some degree, I dislike how I look because of my utter lack of proportionality. I feel so self-conscious on a daily basis. I feel very inadequate.

I know women come in all shapes and sizes, but I really don't see a lot of them out there that have a shape like me. And usually, I think they all - big, small, in-between - look a whole lot better than me. Because they're all balanced.

And, I have to say, I've spent lots of (okay, too much) time thinking about this. And I really don't think it's the small boobs that bother me. It's the lack of proportion. The "big bottom, tiny top." I often think I'd be happier with either the same boobs and a smaller bottom half, or the same bottom half and bigger boobs. At least then, with either of those options, I'd match.

I have tried (and tried) to accept myself just like this; told myself repeatedly that this is how God made me and all of that. That I'm a good person on the inside, and that's what really counts. But it just doesn't work. I have some good days in there, but over all, it just doesn't work.

My tiny bust and big bottom make me feel totally self-conscious, really not girly. Unpretty. And I'm starting to think there's nothing I can do about that.

Why do I bring this up today? I don't know. I guess I'm just complaining. I guess I feel extra self-conscious. I guess it's just one of those days.

I'll stop now. Because I know this is so silly and pointless and shallow. But sometimes, I just can't help it.

to the boys

My sister gave birth to a baby boy last night. The first boy born to our family in 26 years. Only the third boy since my uncle, and he's, like in his 50s (I think).

I imagine the goal in raising a boy is the same as in raising a girl. I think you just want to raise a a decent, kind, caring, responsible human being. I know that's what my family does with the girls. I can't imagine the "boy goals" are different.

But, if I could, I'd like to make a suggestion, offer a blueprint, to guide this young soul though the craziness that is life on this planet.

That blueprint?

Lloyd Dobbler.

I truly believe that if all the boys had a manditory viewing of Say Anything (or several viewings) and were told "that's the goal, right there," this world would be a much better place.

If all the fellas were that kind, caring, compassionate, thoughtful, humble, gentlemanly...well, I think we'd all be fine.

And I am so not kidding.

*******
tell it to me tuesday

April 11 is a good day.

You Capture - Comfort

So, is it bad that the word comfort made me go straight to food? Because it did. My absolute favorites -apples, toast, salad, and (duh) chocolate. I'm a simple girl, I guess. These always make me feel better.

Feel more comfort at Keli's

souls

I think my soul my be a bit atrophied from a lack of... I don't know. Happy? Stimulation? Use? Something. But I know that I used to be happier than I am now. I used to be better than I am now. And I know that the things that feed my soul, that make me happy (like, reallytruly happy), seem to be less and less of a presence in my life lately. And I know that the effect is not good. Not good at all.

But life is life, and it twists and turns and changes, and we must twist and turn and change with it. And the beauty of that is that if you don't like the way it twists, you can twist the other way.

But the problem with that is sometimes you can't twist the other way right away. There are responsibilities. There are bills. There are things that must be taken care of. There is life.

And right now, I think I'm kind of stuck in that place; that place where I know some things need to change, but right now, I can't do much about it.

Except hold on, and hope my soul can hold on, too. For just a little bit longer.

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tell it to me tuesday

Easter success stories

My new shoes.

Vegan coconut cupcakes

PS - I had chocolate for breakfast.