"Oh _________________"

For the third year in a row, I completed the Cheetah Run, a 5k race at the Cincinnati Zoo. While I improved on last year's time, I still didn't meet my goal of finishing in under 40 minutes. But this year, I had an excuse: I fell.

My friend and I had just passed the one mile marker. We rewarded ourselves by slowing to a brisk walk. Before I realized what was happening, I was on the cement, my knee and hands scraped and bloody, and I said, "Oh &#@$" (insert a word I only say while driving, stuck behind a slow driver in the passing lane, while running late). I immediately put my hand to my mouth and said, "I'm sorry!" A lady turned to me: "I'd have said the same thing." A few asked if I was alright.

We continued, disappointed that we'd been slowed and hurrying to make up lost time. Just past the second mile marker a volunteer noticed my bloody knee and offered aid. We paused, again, and tried to sterilize and bandage the scrapes. I'd say we lost at least two minutes.

Three years now I've run this race and said, "I'm going to really start training!" And every year I find myself walking more than I run. I love walking. I love taking my time outside and being able to have a relaxed conversation with my boyfriend, or whomever I'm walking with. I admire those people who train, who get up with the sun and jog most mornings. Sometimes I think I'd like to be one of those people. More often, I relish my extra hour of sleep and my evening strolls. Also, I'm far less likely to trip while walking.

Discipline

After about a day of self-doubt, I finished my application essay to Warren Wilson, wrote another 500 words of a story, and started the transition to a new website to house fiction and non-fiction. While I love blogspot for adding entries short and long, I really like wordpress and how stream-lined it is. I became comfortable creating and linking to pages while maintaining a site for my class.

The new one, perfectsand.wordpress.com, doesn't have much yet, just a couple brief samples. But I like the professional look to it. I plan to use this one the same way I have been while wordpress will be "cleaner," for lack of a better word.

Regardless of what happens with grad school, exciting things are on the horizon. I'm amazed and blessed by the support of my family and friends. Also amazing is the incredible community I've found online: writers from all parts of the country (world) in every genre, all with a passion for words or expressing themselves or creating or sharing or entertaining or connecting, or all of the above!

I'm still 30. No new wrinkles or aches; in fact, I ran Wednesday and didn't feel any effects Thursday. We'll try again Monday. Repetition creates habit.

Slowly Beginning This Writer's Life

I went running yesterday morning for the first time in months. My friend (the conservative one!) and I are planning to meet twice a week and run for a couple miles. Or at least I hope to build to that. This morning I woke up, legs like jello, muscles I didn't know existed aching. I don't remember this happening before!

Tomorrow we'll run again. I suspect it will be a little easier making it up that first hill, and hopefully the next day I'll hurt a little less.

***

Slowly beginning this writer's life. Thinking (and rethinking) the importance of going back to school. In the mean time, I run, I drink coffee, and I write.

A Woman of Inaction

I'm slow. I'm methodical. I think about something, and then I think about it some more. Then I reflect on what I've thought. My pace is frustratingly deliberate (or, maybe, deliberately frustrating), but I look back on choices I've made and have no regrets; I wouldn't change a thing.

I've always had this anxiety about teaching. How I communicate doesn't translate well to the podium. How others learn rarely reflects how I learn. A friend of mine who recently found herself leading a classroom full of adults said to me, "I think I like the idea of being a teacher more than actually being a teacher," and I can certainly understand that sentiment. In the mean time, I do the best I can; in my evaluations, I want my students to write either "She tried really hard!" or "She's funny." (It doesn't necessarily come across in my oh-so serious writing, but I can be hilarious. Or, at least, droll).

That July deadline I'd set for myself is suddenly flexible. I owe a lot of taxes; I have a huge phone bill this month (cell phones are so convenient that you forget you're talking to someone in East Africa!). It's one thing to try to follow my bliss, it's another to be responsible during a near-recession.

I should mention that because of downsizing at the airport, my brother Zach took a severance package last month. In April, he flies to California and will bike across the States. Read about it here. Jonah had chosen to stay on; but Delta announced it was closing one of its concourses: his last day will be here shortly.

Anyway, so I continue to deliberate. Reflect. Ponder. I should really start running again; things always clarify themselves when I run. Oh well, I'll think about it.

It was a dark and stormy night...

When I set off on foot to return an overdue video to Blockbuster this evening, a part of me must have known that the sky was going to break open some time during the next 30 minutes. I was halfway there -- about half a mile from my house -- when it started to sprinkle, and I had just dropped off the video when it started to pour. So what began as a leisurely walk through the neighborhood to return a DVD turned into a mad sprint: if I get violently ill tomorrow, this is why.

This past Sunday I participated in the 30th annual Cheetah Run at the Cincinnati Zoo. Along with 1100 other runners - including moms with strollers, amazingly fit marathoners, and people of all shapes and sizes - I followed a very hilly path inside of and around the zoo. I managed to run for the first mile (a very hilly mile, I must say) and then alternated walking and jogging the rest of the 5k.

I was surprised by how much I was able to run, given that I've only run sporadically this summer. But having so many people around, including friends wanted to walk when I did and run when I did, provided a lot of motivation. Were I by myself, I wouldn't have gone as far. The rain this evening provided me a different motivation, but it worked just as well.

Better Phrase than "Tightly Wound"?

I don't mean to use this blog as a diary, really. I don't treat it like my journal, which is far sillier and more insecure. I use it to keep in the practice of writing for a "public" audience. I use it to reflect and explore ideas and see what I think.

But I've been so tightly wound lately. I don't remember the last time I felt relaxed and at peace. I'm tense and anxious in that annoyingly vague way.

I'll go for a run - that should help. It's been over a week, and that can't be helping my situation.

When she moves like she runs...

A few years ago, when I lived with a roommate, we developed a routine of running two or three mornings a week. After about 30 minutes, we came back to the apartment, put on a pot of coffee, and got ready for work while blaring one of our cds from a small player. The music was usually upbeat: The Shins, Killers, and Loving Spoonful (save the Coldplay, Elliot Smith, and Cat Power for the evenings). But my favorite cd to listen to in the mornings was Neko Case's great "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood," particularly the second track:

Running gives me energy and confidence. What's ironic is that I'm more likely to run when I'm already feeling pretty good about things; but it would make more sense to force myself to run when I'm feeling less than good - get that energy back; regain confidence.

Anyway, I just returned from a power walk around the neighborhood. I had a good day grading midterms, pleasantly surprised by some of the exams.

Good, good day

Today's St. Patrick's Day, and my freckles and pale skin tell me I must have some Irish in me.  

Slowly but surely, I'm getting back to running. Unfortunately my shoes seem to be 1/2 size too small, as judged by the smattering of blood inside the right heel. Ew.  

Anyway, I'm procrastinating. Again. We're discussing the play "Fences" tomorrow as well as the first few scenes from "The Glass Menagerie." I'm trying to come up with some provocative questions regarding both works.