Inane Chatter

I just acted as middle-person for a crib hand-off (from friends who are moving to friends who need a crib), and I was struck by how restless I am.  Those guys are moving to Oregon (like, tomorrow), and I have a coworker who’s counting down the days until she never has to come back to work again (she’s not planning on returning once her maternity leave is up).  I’m envious and restless and eager to get moving with our own plans.  Let’s go already!

I worked from home today because the guys came to replace the HVAC system (and because it was my turn – John stayed home when the painters came).  Now we have a brand new furnace and A/C!  Very exciting.  And they’re pretty, as these things go.  Shiny, anyway.  Unfortunately, I now have a giant, horrible, throbbing, not-at-ALL fun headache.  To go with my stuffy nose and watery eyes.  They ran the heater for a while to make sure everything was working correctly, so it got really hot and stuffy in here, and I’m tempted to open the windows because it’s so pleasant outside, but I think that would be a mistake.  A HORRIBLE MISTAKE.  And I’m not that dumb.  Today.  Ask me again tomorrow.

I flaked on Jess and her mom about the 5K tomorrow because I feel crappy.  It’s not so much about the 5K as it is about not being very good company and being away from home when I feel crappy.  Nobody likes to be away from home when the highlight of your day is the 15 minutes spent feeling slightly less crappy because you were standing under wonderfully hot water in the shower.

I think staring at tiny letters on a screen is not helping my headache, so I’m going to stop.  Also, I need to congratulate myself on finding the end of the work day.  Is it stupid to drink wine when I feel crappy?  Because I think I would like some wine.

I think I might be getting sick.  I can’t tell yet if it’s just seasonal allergies, but since John just got over the flu, I’m a little nervous.  My head is a little (not a lot) congested, my throat is sore enough to hurt when I swallow, the lymph nodes right under my jawline are swollen, and I think I had a fever for a little bit during the night – I woke up freezing and shivering and went scrambling for socks and warmer clothes and more blankets.  Everything but the fever could mean allergies – that stuff happens to me every spring.  And fall.  And at random times throughout the rest of the year.  I was planning on running today, but I think I’m not going to.  We have a 5K with Jess in less than a week, but I gave up any hope of a good race a few weeks ago.  Running today wouldn’t help that much, and a day of real rest might.  So I’m going to do nothing.  Almost nothing.  I might go to the library with John.  Maybe.

We spent Saturday wincing at all the hammering and other assorted loud noises coming from upstairs as a team of four put in hardwood floors.   Totally worth it, but man, it was loud.  And COLD.  They had windows open up there and a saw set up on the front porch, so they had to keep going outside, meaning the door was always open.  On top of that, it snowed all morning and then my car wouldn’t start, so we just huddled in the dining room with the dogs and lit a fire.  And played on the internet.  And read.  And reshelved books.

Starting Saturday night, we became crazy people who clean.  And clean.  And clean.  And also crazy people who walk into a mattress store and buy a new bed in less than 20 minutes.  And then tie it to the roof of the car and drive home.  On the coldest,windiest day of the year.  (This was Sunday, I think).  And then, because Monday was New Year’s Eve and we were having people over and some of them were spending the night (and this new bed was for the guest room), we became the crazy people who have to run out and buy sheets and then wash them so they can go on the bed.  (This new bed that is a double, which is a size we’ve never owned before, so we didn’t have any sheets that would fit.)  On the day people are actually coming over.  And THEN, because I’m a crazy person who is also an idiot, I went to Wegmans on one of the four worst days of the year to go to Wegmans to get everything we’d need for these people coming over in LESS THAN FOUR HOURS.  What are the four worst days of the year to go to Wegmans?  The day before Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, the day before Easter, and NEW YEAR’S EVE.  It was a madhouse.  And they were completely out of the yummy pre-made dips made of cheesy goodness that I usually get.  Otherwise, I found everything I was looking for.  I just had to fight for some of it.

New Year’s Eve was fun, but as John and I were dragging our tired asses to bed at 2am that night, I came to a realization.  The demographics of our little group have changed.  (Okay, yes, duh – I know.)  Our friends have babies, and babies mean schedules and crying and parents who leave early to put said babies to bed.  All of that is perfectly understandable (and we love their babies and love to see their babies), but if half of our guests are going to go home long before midnight, maybe New Year’s Eve isn’t the best night to have our little get-together.  (Also, DAMN I’m tired today.  2am is entirely too late for me.) Instead, I declare Derby Day to be our day.  It’s always a Saturday (so no one has to work), it doesn’t immediately follow any other holiday (so no one’s exhausted from family and travel), it starts earlier, and there’s no obligation to make it to midnight (although people are more than welcome to stay late).  And it’s fun!

(I think we should try to do a summery picnic thing on the Mall (or somewhere in DC when the weather’s nice), too.  Easier for everyone to get to and also fun!)

That’s what I learned from New Year’s Eve this year.  I’ll show you the screaming sheep I found tomorrow.

I’m exhausted from last weekend.  May I have another?  I promise to rest for much of it.  No?  Too bad.

Friday night we went to a costume party.  We were pretty happy with our costumes, but the party was a little awkward at the start.  It got better, and we had a good time.  All that’s minor.  Let’s stick with the important stuff.  For the most part, our costumes were created from things we had at home.  John went as Wolverine.  We had to buy his claws (would you believe we didn’t have a spare set at home already?), but that’s it. 

John realized that I had everything I needed to be Hermione except the wand.  I’d forgotten about the scarf I bought at Universal over the summer.

Not crazy about my hair here. I left in braids all day to get that kinda curly messy younger Hermione look, but I think it came out a little too much like Weird Al.

Classic Hermione pose coming up.  I know!  I know!

Notice I’m holding a wand?  Yup.  That’s ’cause John made me one.  An awesome one.  Because he’s wonderful.

Check it out!  He even burned the Deathly Hallows into the end.  Because he’s the best.

Now, I think our costumes turned out pretty good, but my first choices for us were Dr. Horrible (me) and Captain Hammer (John).  Unfortunately, we don’t have ANYthing we need for those, and we didn’t have enough prep time to get them.  Maybe next year.  I really want to be Dr. Horrible.

My friend Stephanie and I spent FIVE HOURS outlet shopping today.  We tried on all the clothes at the Ann Taylor and Banana Republic Factory Stores and bought half of them, and then we visited every single shoe outlet there.  Struck out on shoes, though.  I’ve lost track of what I’m looking for, except for a pair of black pumps that I can wear with anything for work and a pair of boots.  I didn’t find anything remotely like the boots I want.  I’ve been noticing people wearing them, but I don’t know where they’re from.  I’ll be heading to DSW again soon.  I checked Zappos and they’ve got what I’m looking for.  I’d just like to try some styles on before I order.

I’m looking for something like these:

Type Z Mamie

Lucky Brand May

Romantic Soles Brooke (Wide Calf)

Gabriella Rocha Abbey

Enzo Angiolini Visco

They’re casual, something I wouldn’t be afraid to really wear (I don’t want to have to worry about scuffing them, so I want boots that can take it), looks good with jeans…  I love boots.  Before I buy anything else, though, I’m going to clean out my closet.  For real.  I wear the boots I have, so they can stay, but most of my other shoes will go.  I mean it.  Clothes, too.  I’ll be ruthless.

I already knew this, but now that I’ve been to a concert, I feel the need to say it again: Bruce Springsteen is not for me.  John and I went to the Springsteen concert in DC on Friday night.  Wait – I need to back up.  A few years back, John went to his first Bruce concert with a few friends of ours who are rabid fans.  I mean, these guys know every song he’s ever recorded, have all the albums, always go to concerts when Springsteen is on tour.  That stuff doesn’t make them rabid fans.  No, they go to as many concerts on each tour that they can manage, sometimes traveling miles and miles to go to back to back shows in three different cities.  Friday’s concert was the sixth show our buddy Joe has gone to on this tour alone.  On top of that, they know the set lists of practically every concert he’s ever played ever.  It’s not unusual to have a conversation with one of them that goes like this:

Hey, I kinda like song X from that one album.

Yeah, that’s a great song, but you won’t hear that when we go to this concert.  He hasn’t played that one live since the Evanston show of 1993.  Now THAT was a great show.

Anyway, John was just a casual fan before he went to that show (he’s more than that now, but hasn’t reach rabid levels of fandom yet) .  These guys (and every Springsteen fan I’ve talked to since) told him he HAS to go to a live show, it’s AWESOME, it’s an experience you’ll never get anywhere else – it’s just amazing.  So John went, and it was great.  He had a really good time, it was a really great show, and he started paying more attention to the Boss.  That’s fine – doesn’t bother me one bit.  He went to a couple more shows over the next couple of years, and I had to suffer through a little more Springsteen in the house, but that’s not that big a deal.  Then this tour started, and the guys got together and decided to all go.  John really wanted me to get in on this, and I’d been hearing how great these shows are, so I agreed and we bought two tickets.

I have to admit to not being all that excited as the date approached.  I love live music, and I knew I’d have a good time, but I didn’t prep for it.  I know a handful of songs (“Glory Days”, “Born in the USA”, “Dancing in the Dark”), and I recognize a few more but don’t know more than a couple lines from them (“Born to Run”, “Thunder Road”), but that’s it.  Frankly, I don’t really like his stuff, so prepping didn’t sound appealing at all.  Why listen to more of what I don’t like?  I was counting on the LIVE aspect of the show to be more entertaining than his depressing and repetitive songs.

Ultimately?  It was fun, but I’m in no hurry to go again.  It was loud and crowded (both in a good way) and energetic and everything, and all of that is cool and fun to watch, but it was still Bruce Springsteen, and you know what?  I still don’t like Bruce Springsteen.  Well, personally, I’m sure he’s a fun guy.  I don’t like his songs.  When the band did some covers (“Devil in a Blue Dress”, “Twist and Shout”) at the end of the almost four-hour concert, I thought it was great.  Did it change concert-going for me forever?  No.  No, it did not.

I have found myself completely unable to tell what day of the week it is.  At least I’m not alone.  I told Mom today I would check on something Tuesday, thinking today was Saturday, even though I went to work today and complained about it  being Monday several times.  Probably.  That’s something I’ve been known to do.  I’m sure I did it today.  Unless it was last Monday…  Mom thought it was Tuesday all day.  I talked to Jess yesterday, and she was convinced (or at least hoped) it was Saturday.  It’s probably just wishful thinking, like my dream last night that I was eating brownies and cake with whipped cream and strawberries.  (Oh how I want that.)  Let’s continue to assume it’s wishful thinking and not the deterioration of my brain.

A pest guy (guy in the pest control business, not a guy who’s a pest – although those guys are usually both) just came by the house selling pest control services (he was conventional like that -it would’ve been more interesting if the pest guy was selling, I don’t know, ANYthing else), and I got rid of him by leading him on a little (“Sure, give me your number.  I’ll check the company out online and give you a call if we’re interested.”).  I also told him I never make decisions like that on the spot, and as he left he said, “No problem.  Just check with your hu – [big pause here] – whoever you need to check with, and let me know.”  Nice catch, buddy.  Never assume!  Although he does still seem to be assuming someone else makes this kind of decision and not me.  What?  Just because I was home all day today?  You don’t know me.  I’m sure I’m reading too much into it, but it’s FUN to get hypothetically angry at the hypothetical assumptions the hypothetical real pest guy was making.  How dare he?!

It is time for me to take on the enormous task of catching up on the internet again.  It keeps getting away from me.  In case you need help with the same task, I’m very happy to tell you that Jess has started blogging again.  Like, yesterday (or a couple of days ago), but still – it’s a (re)start.

I had a couple of half-formed ideas of things to write about today, but they’re pretty much gone.  Or far enough away that I don’t have more than a sentence.  You know, like how Jess’s phone called me without her knowledge this afternoon, and how I can’t get enough avocado lately, so I was terribly disappointed when I asked to have avocado added to my sandwich from Panera this evening and they left it off and I didn’t realize until I got home and then it was too late and I was sad.  I had avocado in my salad for lunch (Au Bon Pain – spinach, egg, bacon, avocado, chicken, black beans, honey mustard, and a little more avocado – oh wow good), so it’s not like I had to get through the whole day avocado-less.  Just dinner.

Insert Homer Simpson drooling noise

Mom has made some really good book choices lately.  The last two books I read (well, the one I’m reading now and the one I just read) were her recommendations, and I am very happy with them.  That’s not to say that her recommendations aren’t normally trustworthy – they very much are – but sometimes I need more persuading.  Maybe I’m just being stubborn for no reason.  Or for the same reason John gets stubborn he’s looking for his next book and I send a continuous stream of suggestions his way.  Suggestion overload!  Anyway, I think the best thing – okay, best things about these latest two are a) I knew almost nothing about them before I read them, and 2) they are not at all similar to each other but are both really good.  And good to read back to back, for reasons I have not yet thought out.  And I really like that I hardly knew anything about them.  Mom told me the premise of The Age of Miracles, but she told me absolutely nothing about Gone Girl, and I think I kind of prefer it that way.  John and I work pretty hard to avoid spoilers for movies and TV shows, avoiding just about anything that mentions them.  We really like going into these things with no preconceptions.  With books, you’ve usually got the cover, the blurb on the back, some expectation based on the genre or author or something.  With Gone Girl, since I’m reading it on the Kindle, I don’t have anything but the title and the author’s name.  In the long run, I can see how that might make it difficult to decide what to read next since I often decide based on what genre I’m in the mood for, but once in a while starting a book completely in the dark about it is fun.

Speaking of my book, I’d really like to read it now, so, you know.  Bye.

The gym at night is a peaceful place.  I know I won’t work out tomorrow (going to visit Jess and Chuck – yay!), and Sunday will depend a lot on when we get home, so I figured I’d squeeze in an extra workout tonight.  Especially after IHOP for dinner.  The gym is open until 10pm on weeknights, and most nights there are still people there pretty late.  Not tonight, though.  I walked in at 8 and I had the place to myself.  It was kinda nice.  None of the TVs were on and neither was the music, so the only sounds were my own.  I could pretend it was my own private gym.  No annoying people allowed.

As if on cue, Riley came over and shoved his dripping head into my lap just then.  (He’s a messy drinker.)  I’ve got to pay him some special attention to make up for boarding him overnight tomorrow.

Good night!

This weekend was just about perfect.  I made a list of things to do and got nearly all of them done and still had time to sit on the porch and watch the rain.  Among my things to do were backing up my blog database, updating WordPress, and installing Linux.  Okay, so John did the actual installation for me and then solved my wireless problem, but still.  Now I have the latest version of Ubuntu (the Linux distribution I decided to go with after conferring with a couple of people).  Huh.  That makes it sound like I gathered opinions and did some research before deciding.  It didn’t go exactly like that.

“Hey, Randy, what version of Linux should I install?”

“Hey, John, Randy suggests Ubuntu.  What do you think?”

“Great, let’s do it.”

Thanks, guys.    Anyway, now that it’s installed, I have do some configuring.  It looks….different.  Cool, though.

Alien, but pretty. Customizing is underway.

Must go.  Time for pie.

We’re at the breakfast table this morning with Gaby, who is writing in her journal about what we did yesterday.

Gaby: Well, I want to write that we saw monuments, but…I don’t know how to spell “saw”.

John couldn’t hold the laughter in.  She had no problem with monuments.  And then I heard her spell Washington with very little hesitation.  She’s a genius!

We’re all on our laptops (except Gaby, who’s using a cute little spiral-bound notebook) this morning, after a nice lie-in.  Wolf Trap cancelled last night’s performance of The Pirates of Penzance, so we stayed in and had our picnic dinner in the family room with The Muppet Show.  It’s just as well – we were all pretty worn out after the heat and the driving.  We met up with Jess (Hi, Jess!) for a yummy lunch in Annapolis, blew some bubbles at the harbor (also thanks to Jess), ate some really good ice cream, and tried on lots of hats at Hats in the Belfry.  Hey!  That’s news for us – John found a hat.  One that fits and looks pretty cool and will keep him from burning his head every time he goes out in the sun.  It’s a miracle.  I fell in love with a plum-colored cloche hat, but then I looked at the price tag.  I just can’t spend $175 on a hat.  Even when it’s this cool.

Today the plan is to stay inside and hide from the heat.  No plans, no schedule, just whatever we want to do, whenever we want to do it.  And now that the internet is back (the storm late Friday night knocked it for most of yesterday)…you know, I really don’t know how to end that sentence.  I don’t remember where I was going with it when I started it.  Now that the internet is back, we can…play on the internet?  But we’re not really going to do that today, so…yeah.  No idea.

I’m not sure it’s possible to cram more things into one weekend.  They were all good things, all fun things, but – what happened to my weekend?  We got up Saturday morning and met Erik and Margaret (and Corinne) for brunch.  Totally fun and very good to see them.  We got home Saturday afternoon, cleaned up after the dogs, and mowed the lawn.  Then we went out to see The Avengers (SO much awesome) with Will and Christina, and then, since we hadn’t seen them in a while (we’ve seen Will pretty regularly, but I haven’t seen Christina in nearly two years), we stayed out with them until nearly 1am.  This morning, we got up at a reasonable hour and headed to the George Mason campus for John’s graduation (from Virginia Tech, not George Mason).  Finally, it’s official.  John has an M.S. in Computer Science.  (I failed big time in the photo department.  Too blurry, too dark, too late – missed him.)  We met John’s parents and sisters there (they drove down for the ceremony and dinner after), so we had a very pleasant afternoon and evening with them.  Now we’re home, thoroughly exhausted, with dogs that wonder where the hell we went all weekend.  I only wonder where the hell all these ants came from.  We leave town in four days.  It’s be nice to solve this ant problem before then.

John had brunch with the band this morning (Rock stars do brunch, don’t they?  No?  Well, they should.  Brunch is awesome.), so I took my book (The Bloggess‘s hilarious Let’s Pretend This Never Happened) off to Starbucks with me.  I got my favorite drink (tall skim no-whip toffee nut white mocha – I mention it all the time because I assume you’re planning on memorizing it so you can order one for me next time we’re at Starbucks together without even having to check with me.  You’re planning to do that, right?) and sat at a table outside to sip and read.  Lovely half-hour or so, only slightly marred by the kid at the next table who stared every time I laughed at my book (which was about every 10 seconds).  He was just jealous.  Then Wegmans (Yes, I actually went to the grocery store this weekend.  Can you believe it?), home to unload, and back out to get my nails done.  I was desperately in need of both a manicure and a pedicure.  I went to my favorite place, but for the second time this weekend, I was turned away.  Terribly sad.  The first time was Friday evening.  My friend Chastity was in no hurry to face traffic on her way home, so we decided to get our nails done and went to this place.  Turns out this weekend was prom weekend, so they were fully booked.  Sad.  We gave up that night, but I assumed that by Sunday I’d be able to walk in.  I should have asked, since when I got there today, there was a sign on the door that said they were closed for a private party.  Disappointed, I went to my old favorite salon.  Unfortunately, they’re under new management, and I am not happy about it.  It wasn’t a terrible experience, but it wasn’t the relaxing afternoon I’d hoped for.  They didn’t stab me in the toe or anything, and my nails look okay, but they’re cut too short, and the lady was a bit rough with my cuticles.  So I have to find another back-up nail salon (or plan ahead).  My life is so hard.

Statistics is over and John’s thesis has been turned in (his defense is Friday evening).  I should be able to relax a little now, right?  Why don’t I feel relaxed?  Relax, dammit!

Okay, yelling may not be the right approach.

Let’s blame it on work and leave it at that.  Actually, let’s blame it on getting up at 5 in the morning three days a week to get to work.  I can’t handle 5am.  6am is fine.  Maybe it’s a mental block, but it’s one I can’t (and don’t want to, to be perfectly frank) get past.

(I have one thing to say to all of you who are just itching to tell me what to do about it: I KNOW.  I will do something about it.  I have a plan.  You don’t have to tell me again.  So shush now and let me vent.  Thank you for your time.)

In other news, I got to hang out with a most adorable puppy (and Jess and Chuck, but let’s get our priorities straight here).  See?

His name is Rashi and he is the snuggliest puppy ever.

You want one, don’t you?  (I do.)

Someday we’re going to live in a place where good sushi isn’t readily accessible.  I’m not looking forward to that, but I can’t really see making sushi a deal-breaker when looking for a place to live.  Not that we’re looking right now.  Still, sad day ahead.

You know what’s not sad (or who, I should say)?  Erik and Margaret’s teeny baby when I’m holding her.  We went to their place yesterday to meet adorable little Corinne, and I surprised us all by turning into Supersitter!.  Supersitter! took the baby (who was fighting her nap) when we got arrived, and Supersitter! swung and bounced her while we chatted in the kitchen, and then Supersitter! soothed wee baby Corinne right to sleep, head buried in Supersitter!’s armpit (which seemed odd to Supersitter!, but what can you do?).  It certainly wasn’t Supersitter!’s arms that got tired or Supersitter!’s stomach that was growling – those things don’t happen to Supersitter!.  It was a nice afternoon.  Good to see them all.

Then I spent last night and most of today getting ahead on my homework.  Exciting.  And apropos of absolutely nothing (but courtesy of The Bloggess), here are some otters that look like Benedict Cumberbatch.

This is still my favorite XKCD comic.  I think.  It’s one of my favorites, definitely, because it’s one of the ones I continue to laugh at, even though it’s been years since it was posted.

Also, this one.

Do you have the Draw Something app?  Our friendly neighborhood Wombat asked me that exact question just the other day.  My response (after immediately downloading it to my phone) was “I do now!”   I am so very bad at it, but it’s fun.  It’s like Pictionary without the yelling.  (Usually.)  And Wombat is being very gracious about my terrible drawings.  She’s good – she drew a great cheeseburger.  I really suck.  Truly.  But if you download it and you want to play, send me an email!

Happy New Year!  It’s a brand new year, not too cold (I’m convinced we’re going to be paying for this in February), sunny and shiny and fresh, and I have the cliché-est of all resolution clichés: I want to lose weight.  Eat right.  Be healthy.  Find the exercise routine I lost a couple of months ago.  I’m reluctant to even call it a resolution.  It’s a thing that is always true and that I’m always making some effort to do.  How much of an effort is what varies.  Let’s just say I’ll start paying attention again.  Making better choices.  I also think I want to be a database administrator.  Maybe.  I’m still trying to find out what it would take.

Something almost unheard of happened last night.  Or didn’t happen, actually.  I didn’t knock over any champagne glasses.  !  You’re shocked, I can tell.  No one knocked anything over, as far as I know.  Jess had a close call, but she saved it with her catlike reflexes.  A little champagne dripped here and there while it was being poured, but that doesn’t count.

John and I have done very little today, and it has been wonderful.  The best thing about right now, right this very second, is that there’s no work tomorrow.

The best thing about last night is that there were too many good things to pick one.  I LOVE having our friends at the house, New Year’s Eve or any eve.  Thanks for coming, guys!  Man, we should have taken pictures.

I did it.  I ran the Army Ten-Miler, and I did it 13 minutes faster than any of my workouts.  And it hurt like hell.  The day was just shy of perfect.  The temperatures were low and it wasn’t raining, but the sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.  A cloudy day would have kept us cooler AND probably not given me a sunburn.  (I wore sunblock.  On my face.  I didn’t consider the back of my neck ’cause it’s usually covered with hair.)  And speaking of hair, I had no hair disasters!  Yay!  Over the last few weeks, my braids have come out of the bun repeatedly, come loose altogether (the bottom hair bands lost forever) twice, and generally behaved like Houdini getting out of a straitjacket.  This morning, though, my braid felt secure in its bun and it didn’t even jiggle.  It came down when I took it down, approximately 8 hours after I put it up.  Good bun.  Good braid.  Good me!  Practice works!  (I’ve been wearing my hair in a braid at every opportunity lately.)

So John and I got up at 5:15 yesterday morning, took care of the dogs, ate some toast, and headed to the Pentagon.  We’d been debating the metro vs parking issue for weeks, but when I heard that there’s only bus service between two of the stations on the line nearest us and we’d have to drive most of the way in just to find a station with uninterrupted service to the Pentagon, I convinced John that parking at Pentagon City would be easier.  Less stressful.  He wasn’t hard to convince.  We got to the parking garage right at 7, just as planned, and joined the mobs of runners trying to get to the port-a-potties near the starting line.  30,000-ish runners = long lines for the bathroom.  EVERYone has to go.  Almost everyone.  I’ll come back to that.

John and I were in different starting waves, so we split up to wait in our own personal crowds.  Eventually (couldn’t tell you if the race started on time, but I can tell you we waited and waited and waited and waited….), my crowd started shuffling towards the start we couldn’t see.  We must have been half a mile away, and we were packed in.  A guy behind me started mooing.  He switched to baaing when we stopped laughing at the moos.

John ran this race 5 years ago with a goal of finishing in 1 hour, 40 minutes (10 10-minute miles).  He said people were packed so close in at the beginning that his first mile took him 13 minutes or something crazy like that.  He made up the time later on and finished EXACTLY when he’d planned.  Magic.  I wasn’t counting on magic, so the possibility of a really slow first mile was pretty scary to me.  Luckily, my pack spread out pretty quickly once we finally got across the starting line, so it wasn’t really an issue.  The main race clock (and the timers at the mile markers) were set to the actual race start (which was about 20 minutes before I started), so I relied on my own watch to track my time, starting the timer as I passed under the yellow and black balloons.  (The Army needs to get better colors – yellow (or gold – whatever) and black make for some seriously ugly balloons.) Once I got past the first mile and realized I wasn’t going to have any crowd-related pacing problems, I let go of the what-if-I-don’t-make-it-through-five-miles-fast-enough-and-they-don’t-let-me-finish anxiety and concentrated on moving.  On concentrating.  On keeping my legs churning and my feet landing mid-foot or further forward (my right heel was giving me some trouble).  And then I got the 3-mile mark and found I was averaging well under 11-minute miles.  And then I got to five miles and saw that my average pace was 10:12.  Too fast!  So I slowed down for the last five miles, knowing I was going to be paying for the faster start later.

I did.  I still am.  But it’s a good hurt.  I worked hard for this hurt.  But I’d like it to stop now.  The second half of the race is a blur of bright sunshine and cowbell.  (LOTS of spectators had cowbells.)  I remember thinking the 14th Street Bridge would never end.  And I remember wondering whose bright idea it was to put three (four?) hills in the last two miles.  And then I saw Amanda and Greg and Alex near the finish (thanks for cheering me on, guys!) and then I could see the finish and then I smiled and then it was over.  And then we (John was waiting for me) came to almost a complete halt in a sea of people all struggling to get water (John had some for me because he’s wonderful.  And fast.) and get out and sit down.  For a while it hurt more to be standing still than it had when I was still running.  And we were like a mile from the car.  So we got our bananas and muffins and water and trudged all the way back to the mall parking garage.  When we finally got home (after a ridiculous search for a breakfast place – we at Anthony’s in Falls Church.  French toast!  Exactly right.), we put aside all plans to actually get much thesis and calculus work done, showered, and collapsed on the couch for some well-deserved TV.

It was fun.  No – it was painful and I was afraid it would never end.  But I would do it again.  I don’t want it to be so hard.  If I keep doing it, it’ll get easier.  If I keep repeating that, it might come true.

Moment of truth.  I’m going to check the official results.  Before I do, did I tell you that John finished a full 10 minutes faster than the last time he ran this race?  Because he’s cool.

Okay – my official time was 1:48:47.  (Only one second off what my watch said.  Look at me!  I know how to work a stopwatch!)  I beat my 2-hour expectations by a substantial margin and only missed John’s first time by just under 9 minutes.  Maybe next time. 

Now I’m going to take more ibuprofen and go back to bed.  Lots more ibuprofen.

Right, I said I’d come back to the bathroom thing (many moons and paragraphs ago).  Yeah, the race had only barely started when, by the dozens, guys started hopping the guardrail on Route 110 and sprinting for the treeline to pee.  It was hilarious and a little disconcerting.  Was it planned?  Is that the best place?  Did they pass the word around?  Are these the guys who didn’t want to wait in the long port-a-potty lines?  Or just the ones who drank another liter of water while waiting for the race to start?  I mean, I have to go practically once an hour, more when I’m drinking lots of water, and yet I managed to plan ahead so that my last chance before the race started was enough to get me all the way home, almost six hours later.  Which, now that I think about it, pretty much means I was dehydrated.  Or a crazy-efficient sweater.  Sweat-er.  One who sweats.  Not the cable-knit kind.

That’s enough.  Go to bed already.