Race day

The Valentine's Day Dash 5K is tomorrow morning at Green Lake! I always get excited for races, but this is the first one that I've actually followed* a training plan for.

*The term "followed" has been used loosely. I "followed" an eight-week plan by jumping straight into week five, shifting runs around, adding some yoga and randomly replacing a 7-mile run with an 8-mile run. Click to view the weirdness:

My 5K PR is 28:51 (set at the Green Lake Gobble 5K in November) and one of my goals for 2011 is to break 27:00. Should I make sub-27:00 my goal for this race? Why the hell not?

I'm getting kind of nervous since I really want to do well, and there are supposed to be more than 3,000 people running this race! I think my nervousness will disappear once I get to the starting corral.

There are so many great moments in a race day, including — but not limited to — finishing the race itself. Here are my favorites:

Lining up at the start
It might seem weird to be crammed into a small area with hundreds or thousands of strangers like cattle in a pen, but it's actually pretty fun! The energy is great at the start, and it's fun to watch people warm up, ready their iPod playlists and show off their costumes. (There's always a guy in a thong. Hide ya kids, hide ya wife... just stay away from him.)

Running the first mile

On regular runs, the first mile always sucks. My legs aren't warmed up yet and it just feels kind of blah. But during races, I feel great during the first mile because of all the excitement in the air. The downside of the first mile is that it's the most crowded, and it can be frustrating to weave through slower runners and dodge people who run with their dogs. I don't mind people who run with their dogs on a tight leash, but I've found myself unable to pass a girl, her dog and three feet of the dog's leash. (Note to that girl: There's a great race for dogs up in Alaska. It's called the Iditarod.)

Running the last 0.1 mile

Please let it be over. Please let it be over. This is what I'm thinking when I give it my all in a race. Even though I can see the finish line, the short distance I have ahead of me will really suck, and I fully envision my swift death on a dirty curb. But dammit, that curb will be on the other side of the finish line.

Crossing the finish line

Obviously, this is great because I can now stop running. Also, I usually realize that I am not, in fact, going to die on a curb. I can let my heart rate go back to normal, drink some water and then...

Pillaging the vendors
...steal politely take as much of every free food/drink sample as I possibly can. Boom — I now have breakfast and snacks for the entire next week. Hey, I didn't die — I earned it!

Satiating The Hunger
Once my adrenaline dies down a bit, I begin to feel The Hunger. I usually crave something warm and terrible for me. Papa John's pizza is a favorite, but a grilled cheese sandwich, macaroni and cheese, or anything else involving hot cheese would also be splendid. Aaron and I craved fish and chips after the Resolution Run 5K. Here he is at Paddy Coyne's, waiting for his food. Look into his eyes — do you see The Hunger?

Giving in to The Tireds
Once The Hunger has been quieted with delicious, greasy food, The Tireds set in. A 3.1-mile race isn't very long, but the effort is still enough to make me feel completely wiped out. I like to do the whole, "I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute..." thing, then nap for four hours and wake up not knowing if it's morning or night. The naps I've taken after races have repeatedly ranked up there with the best naps of my life (infant years excluded). I can't even imagine what I'll feel like after running a 15K, a half-marathon and a marathon. I will sleep for years.

That's it! And it's all going down tomorrow! If you're one of the 3,000 romantic souls running the Valentine's Day Dash, good luck to you... and save me a spot on the curb.

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Happy (early) Valentine's Day!

I set this goal last October. I made the purchase last week. And now, it has finally arrived!

My first digital SLR camera is a Canon Rebel T2i:

With a Canon EF 24-105mm f/4L IS USM lens:

Which happens to make the camera look much bigger and scarier than it looks above with the kit lens. I handle it gingerly and cradle it like an infant. A very expensive infant.

But I've already accepted the fact that despite how impressive my newbie camera looks, someone will always have a bigger lens than I:

Jerk. I snapped this with my phone, by the way — I don't have a camera bag yet, and I'm too afraid to lug my unprotected infant all over Seattle like this guy does.

Just kidding about Aaron being a jerk, of course. He's the expert who recommended this camera and lens, and who found great deals on both through a photography forum he belongs to. He's also helping me learn how to use it and doing a great job as a (reluctant) model. Here's the first-ever shot I took, completely unedited for your viewing pleasure:

Hmm, there's clearly some progress to be made!

Even though I have much to learn, I'm so thrilled just to have the camera. I've been thinking about getting into photography for about two years, but only started taking the idea seriously when I realized that life is too short to waste time thinking about something when I could be doing it!

I had been stuck thinking that I needed a good reason to invest so much money into a new hobby. I didn't feel like I deserved to get a camera if I knew nothing about how to use it or if I wasn't planning to use it for anything more than just fun. I was also afraid I wouldn't be good at photography, and that the whole thing would be a waste of time.

Then I realized I didn't need a good reason to do it. The very fact that I wanted to do it was reason enough. Also, the question, "Why?" is nicely countered with, "Why the hell not?"

For a person who has struggled with self-doubt and a hesitation to try new things, "Why the hell not?" is a very helpful mantra.

For example: Here's a photo of asparagus!

WHY THE HELL NOT?

I promise I'll take some more interesting, non-green-vegetable photos as I figure out how to use this thing. I'm looking forward to a nice, sunny weekend day so I can take pictures of the townhouse in its full glory, and I'm also planning a jaunt around my new neighborhood to try to capture its quirky north-Seattle personality.

But for now, I leave you with asparagus.

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Doing it all

Often when I read what Chris Guillebeau has to say about life, work and travel, I'm stunned by the following: a) how much I agree with him; b) how smart, clear and grounded in reality he is; c) and how simple it all is.

I'm often left thinking, "Huh. Well, that makes perfect sense. Why didn't I think of that before? How is it that I've not read this elsewhere?"

A great example is a post Chris wrote about accomplishing everything. As a blogger, book author, world traveler and entrepreneur, Chris is always on the go and always seems to complete the tasks on his busy schedule with ease and grace.

I'm in awe of him and other bloggers who seem to be able to "do it all," like Jenny Blake of Life After College (who is a book author, yoga coach, personal development coach, and on all kinds of advisory boards on top of working a full-time job at Google) and Caitlin Boyle of Healthy Tipping Point (who is a book author, Girls on the Run coach, competitive runner, secretary, wife and home-cooker of vegetarian/vegan fare on top of running two successful Web sites).

And don't even get me started on the many talents of Ree Drummond, The Pioneer Woman.

Chris's post explains how much behind-the-scenes thought and work he puts into everything he does (and it's a lot), even though the results appear effortless to others. Makes sense, right? But many of us will look at him and other successful people and marvel at how they accomplish all these great things, yet never put the same time or effort into our own endeavors and then wonder why we fall short.

Chris sums up his not-so-secret tips for "doing it all" like this:

Don’t accomplish everything; just do what counts.
Spend as much of your time as possible doing work you love.
Work smarter and harder.
That’s pretty much it.

It all makes so much sense and is so simple. I have a tendency to overanalyze and overcomplicate things, but Chris's writing always brings me back to reality.

Instead of being intimidated by people who magically seem to be able to do it all, I need to realize how much hard work it actually takes for them to succeed, and then decide what in my life deserves that much attention.

Right now, running and photography come to mind as things I'd love to spend a lot of time on and become really good at. And as much as I'd love to start blogging on a frequent and regular schedule, that's just not what I want to focus on right now.

I need to be at peace with the fact that I can't be awesome at everything (darn!), but I can be awesome at anything if I have the right focus and put in the work.

Side note: I've found that this principle of moderation also works well for areas like managing my money and my eating. For instance, I can't buy everything I want, but I can buy anything I want if I choose to budget and save for it. I can't eat everything I want, but I can eat anything I want if I choose to eat it in moderation. (Cheese, I'm talking to you.)

The idea is the same across the board: Figure out what's most important to you. Focus on that. Do your best work. And, as Chris says, that's pretty much it.

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What a difference a year makes

I'm still in a reflective mood, so forgive me if you're sick of the now-and-then posts. Now that the first month of 2011 is over and done with, I was thinking about all that I accomplished in January. Then I remembered what happened last January — where I was, how I felt, the outlook I had on my life. I'm kind of blown away by how much my life has changed.

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January 2010: I start the year off sick and sobbing on a bathroom floor. I spend January 1, 2010, being hungover and feeling sorry for myself.

I am living at my mom's house. I don't have a bedroom to myself; just a nook in the back of the house where my bed and a small nightstand sit, semi-shielded by a bookcase for privacy. I have lived there for four months and want to move out soon. Financially, I think I can swing it.

I crunch some numbers and realize that I am $8,000+ in debt. My mom thinks I've been saving my paychecks for the last four months and wonders why I haven't built up any savings to speak of. I've actually been making huge credit-card payments, although even those don't seem to make a dent in my debt.

I break down and tell my mother, red-faced and teary-eyed, about the financial mess that I've gotten myself into over the last four years. I am embarrassed and ashamed, and I feel like I've disappointed her. She gives no indication that she's disappointed, and instead helps me craft a plan to get out of debt. The plan is simple, but there are no shortcuts. I'll have to budget, save and becoming responsible with my money if I want to be independent. I am scared. I feel very much like a child.

I have just been dumped; I am heartbroken. I attempt to date again much too soon. I feel tired, chubby and lazy. I don't exercise at all; instead, I eat big dinners and let the boxed wine flow freely on weeknights. I stay up late and am tired again the next morning. Eat. Drink. Repeat.

I like my job enough, but the two hours of commuting each day is a huge drain. I lack the energy to do much besides ride the bus, work and sleep. I wonder if this is what my life will be like until I retire or die — whichever comes first.

I come to the conclusion that yes, it will be.


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January 2011: I start the year off by drinking hot cocoa while watching the Space Needle fireworks at midnight — both on TV and from my living room window. I go to sleep at 12:30 a.m. — sober. I spend January 1, 2011, running an exhilarating 5K, eating delicious food and catching up on a favorite TV show.

I am living in a lovely, light-filled townhouse with two of my best friends. I have walls, a closet, a door and even a balcony in my bedroom. I have a bedroom. I have lived here for a few weeks and don't want to move out anytime soon.

I want to buy a new laptop and a digital SLR camera. Even though I'm now paying for rent, utilities and food, financially, I can swing it. I buy the new laptop and camera, paying with my debit card and not worrying about what effect these purchases will have on my finances because I've planned for this for a long time. The new laptop blows my mind. The new camera is stuck somewhere in the shipping process due to snowstorms.

My mom emails me not to school me on finances, but to remind me that I should forward my mail and that I'll be getting my tax forms soon. I reply that I've not only forwarded my mail, but I've received my tax forms and have completed my taxes — a nice refund is already on its way. I create an account on Mint.com to nail down a new budget for independent living and am pleased to find that my "net worth" is far more than the amount I was in debt just a year ago.

I have not just been dumped; in fact, I'm with a fantastic guy. He hung around and was just my friend when I felt like it was too soon for me to date again. Now, we share interests and activities, spend time with each other's friends and families, and make each other laugh. Constantly.

I exercise quite a bit and even join a nearby gym. In total, I run 52 miles in January. I look forward to breaking my 5K record in an upcoming race, as well as challenging myself with new distances for the rest of the year. I eat light dinners, like salads and sauteed vegetables, and try not to drink on weeknights. My wine comes in bottles.

I like my job enough, and the twenty-minute commute is amazing. I struggle to balance activities and keep up with friends while also working, running, blogging and spending time with a very special guy. It's a good problem to have, and I wonder if this is what my life will be like until I retire.

I sure hope so.


What a difference a year makes.

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