Not work of all kinds, just the kind of work that’s paying my salary right now. I haven’t been able to focus on work for two days straight. And I know it’s not a general inability to concentrate since I’m perfectly capable of concentrating on just about anything that isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing from nine to five. I do have a solution for tomorrow, though, so I’m not really worried about it. Deadlines help, too.
You know what doesn’t help my powers of concentration? The band. They’re rehearsing (their next gig is this Sunday), and I can’t seem to finish a thought.
I was able to finish my book. That was last night, though, so it doesn’t count. (No band to compete for my attention.) Holly sent it to me (Thanks, Holly!). I liked it, and I plan to look for more from him (I read Breath, by Tim Winton), but the ending felt a little…off. He brought up and quickly glossed over a lot of things right at the end that didn’t seem to be directly related to the majority of the book. I can see how maybe everything could be pulled together, but it would take another book. For the end to work, I felt like I needed more information about that part of his life. And that’s what got glossed over. But that was just the very end.
Published August 18th, 2010 at 6:30 pm by Zannah in books, dogs with 3 comments
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I believe I’ve made my opinion of Marley and Me (book and movie) known. Actually, now that I’ve done a quick search of my archives, maybe I haven’t. I didn’t like it. Not even a little. Train your damn dog! I’m all for funny dog/animal stories, really I am, but when all the scenes that are supposed to be funny are based on the fact that the dog is out of control because his owner NEVER TRAINED HIM, I start to get really annoyed. I’ve read a couple of other books about dogs or “by” dogs (Edgar Sawtelle, some book about a dog who helps his owner solve his wife’s murder, another book about a guy who gets a herding dog and quits every time he starts training ’cause it’s too hard – whiner, etc), and they generally aren’t my favorites. I’m not entirely sure why I keep trying, but I’ve heard only good things about The Art of Racing in the Rain, so when I saw it on the bookshelf last weekend, I asked Emily if I could borrow it. I started it yesterday, and so far, I’m happier than expected (given my history with dog books). It’s not about the dog, it’s about the family. Told from the point of view of the dog. That makes it a little twee, but it’s not stopping me from getting involved with the characters. To the point where I get mad (and maybe yell a little) when bad stuff happens to the poor guy. So…I like it? I’ll let you know. If I had to say right now, I’d say it’s not one of my favorites, but if someone asked me if they should read it, I’d probably say yes. Couldn’t hurt. Won’t make you dumber.
It does make me wonder if Roxy and Riley really understand every word I say. If they do, I should be a little more careful…
Published August 1st, 2010 at 5:54 pm by Zannah in books, general with 5 comments
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I’m between books again. I picked up Zoe’s Tale by John Scalzi, but it’s a retelling of The Last Colony from the teenager’s point of view, and I’m not really in the mood for that. On the other hand, it’s a quick read (and enjoyable), so I’ll probably finish it now, rather than put it back down. But that doesn’t solve the real problem. What’s next? What am I in the mood for? And I don’t mean just for my next book. This has been kind of an aimless afternoon. We called a few Sprint stores to find out if any of them had the EVO (EVO or Evo?) in stock. None of them do. We’re thisclose to ordering them. I’m not really sure what’s holding us up right now. I read out on the deck with the dogs for a little bit, but since I’m feeling all wishy-washy about my book, I got distracted easily. I came in and watched an episode of Dead Like Me (yay Roku!), and then John asked me to play around on the electronic drumset a little, so I did that… John is installing upgrades on his studio computer, and I’d like to curl up on the couch next to him with a book, and here I am. Back to the book issue. I might be able to settle down if I had my next book all planned out. The books I really want to read, or at least the ones on my mind right now (the next Jim Butcher, the next Sherwood Smith, the next Jasper Fforde), I don’t have.
I’m making this harder than it has to be. The solution? A mystery. And I’m going with a Dorothy Sayers mystery because I haven’t read any of hers yet.
Published July 3rd, 2010 at 10:55 pm by Zannah in books, general with 2 comments
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I can be organized, but I’m usually not. Our book collection is one of the only exceptions. Maybe the only exception. A few years ago (maybe four?) I created a spreadsheet with details of every book we own, and now it’s terribly out of date. Yesterday, I started going through the shelves and updating that list. It’s going to take a while, but I’m already about 25% done with the fiction after just a couple hours spread across today and yesterday.
I know, this is fascinating. My point might be that I always want to be organized, and I can be about most things, but only short term. You can see where my priorities lie. Everything else takes more effort that I want to put in.
I don’t really know where I’m going with this. Possibly nowhere. And that seems like a good place to stop.
I was home from work a little early today, so I decided to spend my free afternoon doing my favorite kind of housework: putting books away. I shelved all of the new books, and since I had to put them in the right places (alphabetically), I had to move all of the books, shelf by shelf. We used to have six free shelves on this last bookshelf in the dining room, but now we’re down to two and a half. Another 60 books or so, and we’ll be out of shelf space again. Poor us. We’ll have to buy more bookshelves.
Go see Bridget. She had an alien encounter (and made Cleveland look gorgeous). Then watch this. (The two things are not at all related.) I laughed so hard I nearly cried.
I came thisclose to missing this year’s huge used book sale. You know, the one that happens the last weekend in June every year? The one I usually talk up to everyone I meet? The one I usually invite people over for so they can be in town to go with me? I forgot about it. John and I were just going through the garage, looking for hazardous household waste to get rid of at the high school (the county has a contractor come by every couple of months for that sort of thing), and the book sale popped into my head. I kinda shouted “Oh, shit. The book sale!” as I ran for the computer to check the dates (yes, it’s that important to me), and from the garage I could hear John asking, “When is it?” with some concern. Yeah, it’s this weekend. Like right now. So we’ve put everything else on hold (everything else equals, um, not really anything since we weren’t doing anything and hadn’t made any plans – that’s interesting. Maybe subconsciously we knew the book sale was this weekend and deliberately left our schedule open.) and we’re going right now. I’m not prepared (I usually have lists), but I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we have and what I want. Not having a list means I’ll browse more. And that’s okay with me.
You may not know this about me, but I have a sign on my forehead that says “Pick me! I’ll play along!” I love street performers. I’ll always stop to watch. And 9 times out of 10, I get picked out of the crowd to participate in some way. (Or four times out of the five I can remember off the top of my head, if you want to get specific. The fifth time I can think of it was Sandwich Stealer who was chosen) I love it. This past Sunday, as I was leaving the aquarium to go to Harvard (and before I couldn’t find the State Street T station), I wandered around Quincy Market/Fanueil Hall and stopped to watch a street performer. Of course. Did I get picked out of the crowd? Yes. Do I have proof? Yes! Because I asked some nice lady to take pictures. Are they any good? No. But here’s one anyway.
I handed those flowers up to him and then did weird things with my hand before catching that pillow and throwing it back to him. Fascinating, right?
I shouldn’t go to bookstores when I’m away from home. Unless I’m out of reading material, of course. And if I’m driving, I think it’s okay. So really, it’s just when I’m flying that I shouldn’t do it. Boston has lots of bookstores, lots of used bookstores, and lots of good bookstores. I’ve been in four of them. And one of them was on a sidewalk near Harvard. See?
I found four books there, $2 each. Then I went to Harvard Book Store. New books upstairs, used downstairs, and bought a few more. THEN I went to one near where I’m working and bought three more Lawrence Block mysteries (I’m in the middle of one of them now). And I have to fit them all into the two bags I’m already checking to get them home. No more! I’ll refrain from entering any more bookstores as long as I’m here.
I’m not going to pretend I’m happy to be away from home, but last night and today so far are making it a little easier to bear. I guess I can’t be unbearably depressed and crying all the time. John, can you forgive me? If I had my way, this plane would be heading towards home, not Boston. Since it’s not – damn. Ignore the no-crying statement. I’m not crying, exactly, but the song that just started (“(You Don’t Know) How Glad I Am”) brought tears to my eyes. Because I’m a sap and I’m away from home. Today’s post is brought to you by The Living Sisters. If I could find that song on YouTube, I’d post it. Here’s the one that was playing right before it, when I was feeling a little happier:
Back to what’s made the last day and a half bearable (and, you know, good). Mom, Dad, and Gaby drove up from Corey and Candy’s place yesterday to spend the afternoon and evening with me on their way north. Mom and Dad have been all over the south over the last two weeks, and I’m ridiculously happy they realized that coming through Atlanta wouldn’t put them too far out of their way. I was done with work yesterday right about 1pm, and I wasn’t expecting Mom and Dad to arrive until about 4:30, so I went to the aquarium. It was cool and everything, but I think Baltimore and Boston have better ones. Not at all the peaceful afternoon I’d imagined when I thought about going to the aquarium. Yesterday was the last day of school for many of the districts in Atlanta, and it looked like most of them let out early and shipped the students to the aquarium. NOT quiet, pretty crowded, but while I didn’t get to experience the whole meditation-while-looking-at-fishies thing, I did have perfect timing to see all the animals get fed. I was checking out the otter exhibit (they were all napping in a big pile) when an aquarium employee appeared and tossed some food at them. They bolted out of that pile like they’d been faking the nap and scurried all over the habitat scooping up the food, doingcutelittlehumanthingswiththeirhands. Where was my camera? That’s right. Hotel room. But it was fun to watch. Oh, one thing that is totally cool about the Georgia Aquarium is how they’ve put half of the tanks and exhibits over the heads of the people walking around. So in the Georgia swamp area, you’re wandering around looking at frogs and snakes and things (this one little boy had camped out in front of the tree frog tank and made it his business to show me every single slimy, slithery thing in there), and then something catches your eye and you look UP. And above me, right there over my head, was a huge tank of water with a glass bottom, and a two-foot long catfish looking down at me. There were all kinds of fish swimming over my head. And that’s just the river exhibit. When we got to the ocean part (Ocean Voyager, maybe?), the track leads you into this tunnel that goes under and through what they say is the largest aquatic exhibit in the world. Lots of sharks, giant grouper, a manta ray, and four half-grown whale sharks. And lots of other fish. LOTS of other fish. After you get through the tunnel (which is just SO cool – seriously the fish and the sharks are swimming next to you and over you and it’s SO COOL – they had hammerhead sharks and the kind with noses that look like chainsaws. I can never remember what those are called.), you end up in a room with a window onto the exhibit that’s the size of a movie screen. I got there just in time to watch them feed these fish, which they do by pumping food in through a pipe. Everything in the tank zeroes in on this one pipe, right in front of the glass, I got to watch the feeding frenzy. Then, while I was in the tropical reef exhibit, they fed those fish, too. It was neat to watch, but I think I’ve had my fill of watching fish eat. After a couple of hours, I’d seen everything (minus the exhibits with an extra charge), so I went back to the hotel. About an hour later, I got a phone call from Gaby telling me they were checking in, so I met them in front. Where Gaby got shy for about five seconds. Then she got over it. I can’t blame her. I think it’s been a year since I saw her last. And at four and a half, I think she can be forgiven for not immediately recognizing an aunt she’s seen all of five times (now six) in her life. She’s the funniest little kid. We went to dinner at PF Chang’s (they have a reliably gluten-free menu for Dad, and besides, they’re good), and she started to fade a little. At first, she wanted to sit with the girls, so they three of us crowded into one side of the booth with Dad all by himself on the other side. After a while, she disappeared under the table after a crayon she’d dropped, and when she came back up, she’d moved to Dad’s side. Mom bagged up the leftovers and left them in the middle of the table. I started making faces at Gaby, who gave me a blank (tired) look and then slowly slid the bag over until it blocked her view of me. Cracked me up. And she insisted on sleeping with me instead of Grammy and Poppy last night. I guess Mom and Dad had suggested it to her earlier in the day, but we all expected her to back out once it came down to it. Not Gaby. I was about to drop and she was on her second wind (and an hour behind me, since she was coming from Central time), but even knowing that if she stayed with me we were going to bed right now didn’t deter her. So we headed across the hall to my room after Mom made her brush her teeth and she settled onto the right side (if you’re on it) of the giant bed. I got ready for bed and climbed in, and she scooted over to the middle so I could read her the two stories she’d been promised. After two stories, I was putting myself to sleep, so we turned off the light (leaving the bathroom light on and the light over by the door so it wouldn’t get too dark). She tossed and turned a bit (and was still in the middle of the bed, leaving me less than a third on the left), and then decided she didn’t want sleep at the head of the bed. She wanted to sleep at the foot of the bed, under the comforter that was folded up there. I didn’t care, so she moved and tossed and turned down there. And then demanded another story. And another. And another. So I made one up, which apparently didn’t go over well, because she asked for princess stories after that, particularly Ariel and Belle. So with my eyes closed and my words slurring (I think), I managed slightly butchered and completely condensed renditions of “The Little Mermaid” and “Beauty and the Beast” (the Disney versions, naturally). At some point, she moved back up to the head of the bed, in the middle, sprawled out at an angle, and fell asleep.
I didn’t sleep well.
But she’s so cute! I can forgive a lot for a cute face and a little girl who tells me she loves me without any prompting. So yesterday was fun, and this morning, too, and I’m always happy to hang out with Mom and Dad.
On top of THAT, when I checked in online for my flight to Boston today, Air Tran offered me an upgrade to business class for a very reasonable price, and I took it. So here I am, sitting in the very front row of the business class section, next to the window, with free wi-fi. I’ve just finished one of those cute little airline bottles of chardonnay and two milano cookies, I’m listening to The Living Sisters (although I’m on the second round of the album and I’m thinking about switching to something else), and I’ll have all day tomorrow in Boston to do whatever I want before I have to work on Monday. I think the aquarium is calling my name. The one in Boston has penguins!
So, even though I’d rather be home (or be going to Boston on vacation with John), I can make the best of it. It helps that I ran this morning. Makes me feel like I’m holding my own in my battle against getting fat.
Enough of this. I’m going back to my book. I just started a mystery by Tana French called In The Woods.
Published May 18th, 2010 at 9:14 pm by Zannah in books, general with 2 comments
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I went to visit one of those bookstores I was looking up yesterday. It’s in Little Five Points, A Capella Books, and while the area is really cool, the bookstore was a little disappointing. Eclectic, yes, but not very big and kind of a disappointing selection. It’s not what I was looking for. And they didn’t have any Lawrence Block books, either.
I’m tired and not feeling particularly chatty tonight, so I’m going to read in the bathtub and go to bed. Hope you don’t mind.
John thinks I should change my tag line from “What did you expect?” to “Because Non Sequitur was taken”. And now that I’ve checked, it’s not taken, and I wonder if I should buy it…
In honor of John, here are a few unrelated items:
As I dragged my suitcases from the baggage carousel to the train for the rental car counters, I followed a woman leading a doggie train across the street. Why didn’t I take a picture? I’m an idiot, that’s why. The woman had a rolling suitcase behind her, and attached to that, she had what looked like an overnight bag on wheels with mesh sides. The top was open and there were two little white dogs (Westies, maybe) checking out the surroundings. One was seated with just its head poking out, but the other was up on its hind legs, leaning on the front of the bag, craning its neck in every direction. One of the cutest things I’ve ever seen. They looked like they were riding on the caboose of a little train.
My last rental car (a Kia Spectra), while economy, had power everything. You know, the normal things (windows, locks, etc.). This one, a Chevy Aveo, has power NOTHING. Can you remember the last time you were in a car without power locks? Without power windows? My first car didn’t have power locks or windows, but it was an ’88 Corolla hatchback, not a 2009 Chevy four-door sedan, and I haven’t been in that car since…1997.
I finished the Lawrence Block book, The Burglar in the Library, last night before I went to sleep. That’s right – I liked it SO much I couldn’t put it down. Started it on the plane, finished it before I went to sleep. And as soon as I can find a used bookstore around here that’s open when I’m able to get there, I plan to buy several more of his books. And there are lots of used bookstores in Atlanta.
I started watching Marilyn Hotchkiss’ Ballroom Dancing and Charm School tonight, a movie I’m pretty sure John isn’t interested in. I am, but I can’t watch it now. It’s about a guy (Robert Carlyle) getting over the death of his wife. WHY would I want to watch a gut-wrenching, soul-twisting, tearjerker of a movie about a guy who’s lost his wife when I can’t be home with John? I wouldn’t, that’s right, so I’m turning it off. I’m going to curl up in bed with the next Dresden Files book ’cause a little light vampire-killing (or whatever monster he’ll go after in this book) is just what I need.
It’s ten to three. We pulled away from the gate on time, did some taxi-ing (how do you spell that? Taxying? Taxing? Taxiing?), and then came to a standstill on the tarmac with a message from the pilot. “Something something something from Atlanta, 30 minutes before we can take off, approximate time of take-off 16 after the hour, blah blah ten-minute warning to turn electronics back off.” So…why did we pull away from the gate? Why board at all? Maybe so those of us who are sleepy can nap uninterrupted, as both of my seatmates are doing right now. (One is snoring. Lightly, but still.) I’m on the window this time, exit row again, next to two seemingly ordinary people. We’ll see how it goes. And Mom, I don’t ALWAYS have stories to tell about my flight. On my way home from Atlanta two days ago, my seatmate was a woman visting her daughter in Leesburg. She was a bit of a talker, but perfectly nice. It wasn’t her fault that I wasn’t in the mood to chat. (Maybe if she’d been a hot ex-Marine I’d have changed my mind about that. )
I finished my Dresden Files book while waiting to board. I have another one with me, but I’m going to try a new mystery writer first. New to me. Has anyone heard of Lawrence Block? I read about his books somewhere (almost everything I buy comes from a recommendation now), but I can’t remember where. So far so good. The book is called “The Burglar in the Library”, the main character owns a used bookstore, and he’s heading to an English-style bed and breakfast to look for a possibly non-existent rare book. Just my cup of tea.
Yesterday, John and I went to Erik’s place to help him celebrate getting his Masters degree in International Commerce and Policy. (Erik, did I get it right?)
Hey, ten-minute warning. I’ll finish that later.
Much later:
I’m in my hotel room after a trip to a nail salon (yay for pretty toes) and a trip to Kroger for breakfast and lunch supplies for the week. Food and relaxing are at the top of my list for right now, so, um, bye.
Published May 13th, 2010 at 8:25 pm by Zannah in books, food with 4 comments
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I finally finished The Impossible Bird a couple of days ago. What a weird-ass book. I can’t even describe it. There are these two guys, brothers, who are dead (the book says so in the beginning), but they’re still acting like they’re alive, and there’s something to do with aliens that are hummingbirds, or they’re using the hummingbirds, and they (the brothers) have to kill each other, but they’re already dead, and they have to come to terms with…something…it was seriously weird, and I don’t really know what it was about. But it’s over, and I moved on to the next book in the Dresden Files series.
I had this delicious shrimp etouffee at Copeland’s of New Orleans for dinner tonight. And then, because I couldn’t resist, I got the cheesecake napoleon (cheesecake with layers of pudding cake on either side) with bananas foster as a topping to go. It looks and smells like the best thing ever, but I haven’t tried it yet. Typing is keeping me away from it and I’m starting to think that’s not the best arrangement. Which means typing will have to go. It’s calling my name!
Updated: Who cares about cheesecake? Not me. It’s the pudding cake drenched in whatever bananas foster is made of that I can’t get enough of. SO good. And SO not good for me.
I found that link because I’m in the middle of organizing my bookmarks. Again. (And that means I have to go to every single bookmarked site to see if I want to keep it.) When I organized them last time, I put all the blogs I read in one folder, in alphabetical order. When I have free time, I go through the list in order. But I’ve had so little free time lately that I haven’t been getting far down the list, and I’ve inadvertently been missing some of the sites I used to read daily just because their names start with letters in the second half of the alphabet. Then I feel bad for neglecting them because that reminds me of always being stuck at the back of the line (for lunch, for assemblies, for field trips) in the elementary school because my last name started with an S. Now my last name starts with a B, but that hardly matters ’cause no one asks us to line up in alphabetical order anymore. Anyway, I’m over that, but I don’t want to treat my favorite blogs the same way. So now, my favorites are in a Daily Blog folder, separate from the rest. Yes, I play favorites. And I need to update my blogroll, but that will have to happen on a day that’s not so beautiful. Because why am I inside? It’s gorgeous out there!
I have to shower (ran six miles this morning – go me!) and then go to the library. I need books on CD for my super-long commute (now that I’m not carpooling anymore).
Also, I am totally losing my mind. There was something else I planned to write about, but I have NO idea what it was.
I went outside today. For about 10 seconds. John is trying to figure out why the airbag light is coming on in his car, so I stepped out into the driveway to see how it was going. John said, “Um…” and pointed to the layer of pollen on the hood of the mustang. Point taken. I went back inside. I just finished the third Dresden Files book, and I’m probably going to pick up the 4th next. Mostly because I’m too lazy to put much thought into what I really want to read next. And because I don’t think I can concentrate very well on anything that isn’t brain candy. If I had another Dean Koontz novel, I’d probably read that, too. Instead. Whatever. I’m staying inside today, and maybe, if John loves me, he’ll bring me egg-drop soup.
The produce guy at Wegman’s praised my apple-choosing skills today. Good to know I have a fallback if my current job doesn’t work out. I’m not sure where, other than the produce section of a grocery store, I can market this new-found skill o’ mine. I also noticed that finally, as of yesterday, there is NO MORE SNOW in the front yard. It’s mid-March – if it snows again (this season), I’m moving south.
I finished Run today. Loved it. I think I’m going to head for something lighter next, like maybe the next book in The Dresden Files series. Mindy is using my book list (see Books and Movies in the sidebar) for inspiration so she can take a break from her school reading. That makes me very happy.
Daylight Saving Time started today, but it’ll probably be Tuesday before I’m used to it. It’s almost nine, and I should be thinking about getting ready for bed (I plan to get up early and run, if it’s not raining), but it doesn’t feel nearly that late and I’m not remotely tired. Those tiny insignificant issues aside, I’m thrilled about the time change. I need more hours of daylight.
It’s been raining off and on all day (mostly on), so during a break this afternoon, I let the dogs out to play. They were amusing themselves, sniffing around, eating dirt, and I went back to my book. A little later I realized I was hearing rain hit the windows pretty hard and I remembered the dogs were still outside. I rushed over to the sliding glass doors and found two soggy dogs huddled up against the door, trying to get under the overhang. Adorable. They’re in now, mostly dry, and being a little clingy.
I’ve already shelved my new books (I had to move about a shelf’s worth of books all over the house, one shelf at a time), and now I’m relaxing. I think John just gave up on his projects for the day, so we’re going to cuddle up and watch TV. And skip dinner. We had a big lunch with Jess and Chuck after the book sale.
The rain is messing with my running plans. It was raining hard this morning when the alarm went off, so we slept in the extra hour and I went straight to work. When I got home from work (less than an hour ago), it was raining enough to keep me in. It’s supposed to rain into the evening, slack off for a little (when it’s too dark and too late to run), and then pick up big time over night and all day tomorrow. So even if I wanted to get up super extra early (we’re already getting up extra early to meet Jess and Chuck at a book sale in Maryland) to run tomorrow morning before we leave, I couldn’t ’cause it’s supposed to be pouring cats and dogs. I like rain and everything, but I was on a roll!
</whining>
It’s Friday, it’s the weekend, I get to buy books tomorrow (Hi, I’m Zannah. I read.), and I get to hang out with people I like. And I can sleep in on Sunday.
[Pause while I peruse my bookmarks.]
I really and truly just gasped. Out loud, by myself. I think I found the house I’m supposed to live in. At the very least, I need lots of money and an interior decorator who can read my mind and find these pictures years from now when I can afford to redo our entire house.
Go here and read this. (You don’t have to. Next time I’ll ask politely. But it’s a nicely written post about being alone during a power outage.)
I’m done for now. I have very important things to do, like going through my books and writing down titles I’m missing and authors I love so I can look for their books. I think we’ve already discussed my need for lists. I can browse through a book sale forever, but if I don’t bring a list, I might browse right past something I’ve been looking for because I didn’t recognize the author.
…(’cause it sure feels like that sometimes)…I’ll write about something else. Like how disgustingly good it feels to run when you’re in the third or fourth or fifth mile and you’ve gotten past the REALLY tight calves and you’re running slightly downhill and “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie starts to play and you’re singing along (through the panting) and you know you’re hungry, but it’s not that long before John will be home and you can hug him (I can hug him – nobody gave you permission), but maybe not until after the shower ’cause no one appreciates a sweaty hug (and did I mention that my fifth mile is mostly downhill and I was flying?), and then we’ll grill hot dogs for dinner. ‘Cause it’s spring! Close enough, anyway. It was 63 degrees out when I left the house to run this evening.
I finished The Road the other day (Sunday, I think). I know Mom and Dad thought it was the most depressing thing they’ve ever read, but I liked it. Yes, it was a bit (a lot) depressing, but that doesn’t make it a bad book. I definitely want to see the movie. And now I’m re-reading Bel Canto. I love it. It’s beautiful, it’s lyrical, and all of a sudden I feel like I’m in a Frank Sinatra song (“You’re much to much, and just too very very to ever be in Webster’s dictionary”). Anyway, I love it.
SPRING! I know it’s not spring yet, but it’s starting to look like it. It’s sunny, it got up to 50 degrees, we ran a race, the dogs spent the day outside, and I almost opened some windows. More progress on that tomorrow, hopefully, since the high is supposed to be 55 (!). It’s been a very cold winter, and I am SO ready for it to be over.
For the last two and a half weeks, ever since John coaxed/supported/shamed me into registering with him for the 5-mile race, I’ve been dreading today. I wasn’t at ALL prepared to run 5 miles (high winds, snow and ice on the sidewalks, and being forced to run in the neighborhood streets are my main excuses), so my plan was to run as much as I could, counting on adrenaline to help a little, keep a steady pace, and then if I need to walk, try to walk only for one minute and then jog for at least three minutes before walking again. So I had a plan. I also took a peek at last year’s race results and I knew that at least a handful of people took between 70 and 85 minutes to complete the race, so I was fairly confident I wouldn’t be last. But you never know. Maybe those people decided never to run 5 miles again so they didn’t bother registering this year. I told John (who wasn’t feeling all that great about it, either) to look for me around 60-67 minutes. Closer to 67.
It was a beautiful morning (and it’s been a beautiful day), but pretty breezy, so it was still plenty cold (wind chill in the upper 20s, I think). We joined the crowd at the starting line and John asked me where I wanted to fit in: front, middle, or back? Definitely not the front (I’ll get trampled, plus I’ll just be in the way of all those super-serious, super-fast runners), and I was pretty sure I didn’t want to be in the back (why start there? I’ll get there eventually on my own), but in the middle, there’d be all the psychological pressure of watching all those runners pass me along the way. I said something to that effect to John as we threaded our way to the back of the first third of the crowd, and he said, “Well, you know what it’s like.” I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean that I should be used to watching runners pass me. Pretty sure.
The course took us through neighborhoods in Ashburn John and I don’t typically see, and there were a few people out cheering us on. There was a big hill near the end of the first mile, and just after it, a woman shouted from her front porch, “It’s all downhill from here!” She was mostly right. There were a couple of times the course doubled back on itself, so I could see that I wasn’t actually last, or even that close to last (definitely in the last third, last fourth, maybe even last fifth – I’ll post numbers when the results are up). One of the times we doubled back, though, I saw a guy juggling. While running. He had 5 (maybe 4, but I think five) red balls in the air at once while he jogged up the hill. Pretty cool, very weird.
Just after the 3-mile mark, I realized I was doing better than expected, averaging about an 11-minute mile, and I started daydreaming about finishing in under an hour. I wondered if John would even be looking at the finish line that early. (Of course he would. There isn’t much else to look at.) Any walking I did was for less than a minute and not all that often (4 or 5 times total), and I was still on track at the 4th mile, so I ran the entire 5th mile and managed to pick up the pace at the very end, enough to feel like I was going to throw up as I crossed the finish line. That’s the way to do it. It passed, quickly, and John was there, and my time on the clock was just under 55 minutes. I don’t remember exactly what, but my official time should be lower since it didn’t start until I crossed the starting line. My watch said 54:24. You know that means? That I can do that without training for it? It means I can do better. And it was fun and I liked it and I won’t be afraid to do it again. Another side effect: my fear of 10Ks disappeared. I can DO this.
I just checked. Results have been posted. My official time (matches my watch exactly, for once) is 54:24. Out of 280 women, I finished 241st. John finished 197th out of 316 men with an 8:45 pace. My pace was 10:53.
I can do better than that.
Anyway, we got home, had breakfast, cleaned up (ourselves, not anything silly like the house), and then John had to stay close to his computer since he’s on call to work today. I talked to Jess (we’re making lots of plans), and then we filed our taxes. John wants to buy an external hard drive today (and I need a new Scalzi book) AND I really want sushi for dinner, so we’re heading out soon to do all (at least some) of that. The big decision for the evening is whether we eat out or bring sushi home (and snuggle in for TV or a movie). Tough call.
The end of the workday couldn’t get here fast enough for me. Nothing against work, but I really wanted to be home. And now I am, and now it’s Friday night, and now I have to face a 5-mile race in the morning. If I can treat it like a regular workout, I should be fine. I just don’t want to finish last. Please don’t let me be last.
You know how when you look something up in wikipedia, you end up clicking this link, then that link, then this one over here, and back to this one, until you end up reading an article that has NOTHING to do with the first one you read? (I know you do.) That doesn’t happen to me as much out of wikipedia, for some reason. I tend not to click through, or at least not through as many layers, on other websites. I wonder why. Well, I don’t, for whatever reason, but I did today, and I found this blog post about an old Newsweek article from 1995 about how the internet won’t last.
My blog is exactly what it looks like. I make no promises to say anything profound. I read, I write, and I try to figure out what I really need to be really happy. Isn't that what you do?
