Brewers and Tigers...oh my!

I have abandoned my plan to shower until I'm pruny-skinned.  Unwillingly. However, believe me - I have used hot water in every feasible way over the last 24 hours.

Well, not really.

Isn't this always the case with life?  We take so much for granted.  Of course, paying a BOAT LOAD of money can sometimes bring the forgotten to the forefront, but then a day later...

It's all, yeah, I have hot water, don't make a big deal of it, whatever.

This morning, because I have a love for sleeping in that is both unhealthy and non-productive, I left myself a solid 30 minutes to workout before I had to go to work.  And when I say work, I mean...I had to go in for a total of 3 meetings before we headed to Milwaukee for the annual Brewer's Game event.

Ok - I get it, this perhaps doesn't sound like a tough day at the office.  I assure you, there have been many tough days that make a day like this not only a luxury...but also, a necessity.  Lest you see us completely melt down in cube-land, rocking in the fetal position.  Trust me, this day = good for us.

At any rate, 30 minutes meant 2 things: Treadmill and Intervals.

FUN!

I did 10 45 second intervals at 8.5mph, with 30 second rests.  Incredible.  I am not used to less than a 30 minute run but I am making a conscious and deliberate effort to focus on speed vs. endurance.  I have 2 long races on the schedule: Waunafest 10 mile run at the end of July in Waunakee, WI, and the Madison Mini-Marathon (13.1 miles) at the end of August.  In the meantime, I am trying for the first time in my life to be fast.

Speed has always eluded me.  Is it mental?  Are my legs too short?  Bad form?  Just born to be slow?

I've witnessed some very gazelle-like running from some very un-gazelle-like body structures...so it must just be a wall I need to break through.  I'm trying.

After the amazing workout, I enjoyed a fully loaded Bloody Mary & a Miller Lite chaser at the ballgame.  Wearing my Detroit Tigers sweatshirt.  Sorry Milwaukee.  My heart was officially given to the Tigers in 1984.  I will always remember the names of those guys, and I still have the Topps baseball cards to prove my allegiance.  I love live baseball...but I love my Tigers the most.  I was 12 when they won the World Series, and my Dad let me stay up late to watch.  Go Tigers!

Hot Water is Overrated

I am getting a new hot water heater installed, as I type.

This may be the most expensive blog post ever.  I should be charging you for reading it.

 I suspected, since the house is almost 60 years old, that if the HWH is leaking out of the bottom...it is likely a goner.  Suspicion confirmed.

Now believe me, when I saw the estimate for this ridiculous situation, I weighed the pros and cons of hot water.  I mean, do we really NEED hot water?  I still have electricity and I still have water...so I could perhaps heat the water myself.

Since paying bills and doing laundry don't appear to be priorities in my life, I figured I have abundant spare time to heat this water myself.

The repair guy astutely observed my hesitation.  He could see I was carefully weighing my options.  He knew I was on the cusp of living hot-water-free for the rest of my existence.

So he knocked $16 off the bill.

Imagine my gratefulness.

I gave him a look that suggested, among other things, he could do better than that.  Fortunately, this was not missed by his superior customer service skill and his refined talent at reading people who are about to hand over a major credit card and kiss their life savings goodbye.

He accepted the mulligan, and miraculously found a $50 credit in his arsenal of tricks. Now I am upstairs listening to a calamity of sounds that could only be signs he is also ripping out all my of copper plumbing and perhaps even remodeling the basement.

One can only hope.

If I am not on blogger for a few days, it is because I am going to run this new hot water heater like it's my last days on earth and my final wish is to go all pruny-skinned from standing in the shower for hours on end.  Since I am now officially broke, showering is about all I can afford to do.

Lifetime...the original reality TV

After running 6 grueling, overheated miles Saturday, then shopping unsuccessfully for new kicks (my size is now on order), gorging myself on a Panera Strawberry something-or-other salad followed by a Rolo McFlurry (all I can say is - I'm not sorry. It was incredible. So worth it)...

I found myself on the couch sucked into a Lifetime movie.

As in "Lifetime, Television for Women"

Or, more adequately entitled, "Television for morons and the criminally insane"

Or perhaps for those of us who just need a gentle reminder that although we may occasionally feel like our lives suck, there are those out there who really have it much suckier.

Seriously - WHO writes these things? WHO? I am more than a little spooked by the likes of Stephen King and his very brilliant yet disturbing mind. But these Lifetime writers are on a whole new level. Which is exactly why we watch. Accidentally. On a Saturday afternoon.

In this particular melodrama, a beautiful woman, "sappily" married to a man who has clearly out-kicked his coverage but more than makes up for it with his almost complete lack of any life interest outside of protecting his beautiful wife from psychotic killers - contacts her ex-boyfriend from high school and meets up for a meal.

After the meal, he begins to stalk her as is the case in most jilted love situations. Threaten her life. You know, your typical psycho-ex behavior ranging from the prank call and anonymous email proclaiming she is a (insert female dog jargon here), to aiming a cross-bow at her head in the backyard, then attempting to run her over in a grocery store parking lot. Normal life in suburbia.

Of course, this has the makings of all the necessary elements of a Lifetime movie.

1) Suspected perpetrator is ALWAYS masked.

2) No one ever witnesses the alleged threat/attack.

3) Regardless of how long the stalker holds the line when placing the prank call, it is NEVER enough for the cops to track. Even with technology evolving through the decades, the call-tracing mechanism remains woefully underdeveloped. Such a shame for police everywhere.

4) The victim, despite numerous brushes with death, police involvement, and the annoying, doting husband, STILL finds herself doing the following:
a) Walking alone to her car late at night in a deserted parking garage
b) Following that strange noise she hears outside in the forest behind her isolated McMansion
C) Running errands in broad daylight as if nothing is wrong in her life because she will NOT be limited by ANY crazy killer stalking her, dammit.

5) Her husband is also NEVER with her when any of this happens, which...

6) Leads you to believe it is the husband who is really trying to kill her...

7) Until some strange woman/lawyer shows up on their doorstep saying she knows the stalker, actually helped get him off on a prior murder charge and out of the kindness of her heart-slash-tremendously guilty conscience she has found this poor couple and has traveled many miles to help them with their current predicament. ("If just one life can be spared it will all be worth it").

8) Which leads you to believe that the doting husband is having an affair with the beautiful-and-smart stranger and this woman is in on the whole thing, a la Double Jeopardy with Ashley Judge.

9) So, despite the fact that you have the mystery solved, you keep watching as lawyer chick and husband concoct a plot whereby victim wife is placed in harm's way "baiting" psycho high school ex until the cops miraculously arrive and arrest him, just in the nick of time, henceforth saving all of humanity...

10) And then - BAM - in typical Lifetime style, you NEVER saw this coming - in a dramatic and climatic scene the husband realizes the lawyer's name doesn't even exist, she's not really a lawyer...and then he breaks land-speed records getting to the abandoned warehouse where wife-lawyer-psycho ex are all together...and then WOW!

Turns out lawyer is the wife of the psycho ex, and she is the one stalking and trying to kill the innocent wife because her husband (psycho ex) has cheated on her in the past (another woman she also killed) and she is MAD AS HELL AND NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE.

Awesome.

I dropped to my knees in shock, then shame...for once again, life is so much more predictable than a Lifetime movie.

And thank God for that.

Now back to your regularly scheduled suckiness.

I am who I am, I am who you are

Tonight, in aroma-hot-yoga, which is 75 minutes of powerflow infused with essential oils and aromatherapy (doesn't that even sound amazing?)...the teacher hit us with this:

"You've spent too much time thinking about whatever it is that is blocking you.  That person, or that situation, or that feeling.  Let it go.  Release it.  Be in this moment.  This is where you are. Let your thoughts be here."

What a huge relief when it is possible to really let go.  Only in yoga does it happen for me.  And only for the duration of that thought, or that session.  When I leave, the euphoria lasts only a short time.  Life just jumps right back in front of your vehicle...and you're slamming into something again.

When I leave hot yoga, I feel incredibly light, strong, and centered.  Every muscle is working in unison to propel me forward with my head held high and shoulders square.  It is ephemeral, but during this time, I am invincible.

Fast forward 10 blissful and enlightened minutes.  I arrive home. The warming milk confirmed my earlier suspicion (dutifully forgotten during my yoga practice) that the refrigerator appears to be broken.  Again.  One of the dogs (I'm on to you Annie) "watered" the floor vs. the lawn.  And when I headed in to take a much-needed shower, the bathroom mirror revealed that a ginormous zit has staked its claim of my chin.  Seriously, your mother should warn you that pimples will inevitably be a lifelong inconvenience. Even when you are 39.

Yes.  I slammed back into life and it left some body damage.  It almost always does.

Sometimes I just wish for 1 whole day where everything falls into place and goes right, or at the very least, nothing blows up.  I know I'm not alone in this.  And I know that isn't really the intent or purpose of life.   Yet I still dream of this utopian day.

The teacher closed class with a great song/chant by Guru Singh that I thought I would share here.  The lyrics that struck me were:

I am who I am.  That is that.  I am who I am.  That is that.  I am who I am. Thank God I am.
I am who I am.  That is that.  I am who you are, looking back.  You are who I am, can you imagine that?

This journey of self-acceptance and dare I say it - love - is full of twists and turns.  With life never letting up.  But we are all on this journey together.  We are all inching forward, learning to love ourselves and each other. Unconditionally.  Even it hurts.  (and it will hurt)

RAGNAR, Not-so-race-report

Year 3 of RAGNAR behind me...

What a great adventure.  Running non-stop from Madison to Chicago.  190 miles.  28 hours.  2 vans.

This year we had 5 of the 6 in our van returning, with a new person - Stacy.  It was awesome to literally pick up some of the same conversations from last year, while also making new jokes, memories, and van-isms.

Here's a quick snapshot of the start - this year we were Van 1 with a start time of 10am:

As the morning progressed, we started writing some of our "lessons learned"/"van-isms" on the back of our not-so-15-passenger van...

Then it rained.  And we accidentally used our rear window wipers...

So now, I bring you, in written form vs. pictorial evidence - a few priceless "Van-isms" from the relay:

- Chaffing is overrated

- Serrated knives do not cut skin (later we changed our stance on this issue to "Serrated knives do not cut skin WELL")

- My aim is not so good from the van to the port-a-potty (discovered when we felt the bathroom was just TOO.FAR.AWAY)

- Conversation after our 1st legs, while we were on break and van 2 was running...
     Me: "Can we stop at the steaming pot?"
     Chris (driving): "Sure. You need a port-a-potty?"
     Me: "No!  The steaming pot is the coffee shop we just passed.  I need a coffee"
     Chris:  "Ohhhh..."

- Enterprise thinks this is a 15-passenger van.  (2nd year in a row Enterprise issues left the team 1 big white van short.  This year it was because someone got into an accident with it the day before it was ours)

-  Exchange point, meeting Van 2 as they take off...
      Matt: "How was your runs?"
      Me: "You realize that question would be totally inappropriate and rather gross outside of this relay, right?"

- Conversation at 11pm...
       Me: "I passed a lot of people on that leg"
       Stacy: "Yeah, a lot of people are tired and just giving up."
       Me: "Oh good, I thought I was just getting faster.  What a relief"

- Looking at the relay book with maps and distances...
      Ryan, to van: "My third leg is the hardest and the longest"
      Van: Stunned silence....then someone uttered..."I bet it is"

-  At breakfast, after our 3rd leg has been run, looking at a 5 hour wait before van 2 finishes and we head back to Madison...
     One of us (we will never admit who):  "Let's just text the other van, tell them we are heading home   now, and turn off our phones"

Now of course, we would NEVER do that.  But 26 hours without sleep and at least 15 miles of running completely eliminates the edit function between your brain and your mouth and YOU.ARE.SO.TIRED, you would give up anything to just crawl into your own bed.

-  One of the quotes on a van in the parking lot...
    "We are the fast girls your momma warned you about"

- One of the girls, lamenting this observation as we waited for a runner to arrive at the transition..."It's just so hard to know when he's going to come"

-  Me to Johanna at one of the transition points, watching a male runner come in...
   Me: "Is he just wearing a jock-strap under that tutu?
   Pause.
   Johanna: "Um, yes, it would appear so..."
   Both of us, in unison: "Oh gross..."
   Later, "How did he run in that?!"

Here we are, at the finish line...tired, hungry, happy, tired, stinky...

Stacy and Chris, taking a nap in the "Party Zone"

Jamie, kicking back with a Goose Island and her re-newed NYC accent

Ryan and Johanna, still smiling after 28 hours of no sleep...

Me, also kicking back with a Goose Island, just my midwest accent

Chapstick sampling...

Finish line.  Cold, again!  But so pretty with views of Lake Michigan in the background.

More pictures of the entire team coming soon!  For now, I still have sleep to catch up on.  And my body is a little sore from the 15.4 miles!

Bacon-to-Biscuits

It's been a crazy week for me professionally.  I am not only trying to do my normal job, but I am also leading the United Way campaign and this was one of the busiest weeks of the year for that as we prepare for our annual online auction that kicks off next week.  I love it, I believe in it, and I'm happy to do it.  But I am worn out.

Today, however, was my Friday.  {Insert Smile}

Tomorrow morning at 8:30am I am off to embark on my 3rd RAGNAR relay from Madison to Chicago.

1 team (note the title of this post), 2 vans, 12 runners...24 to 30 hours of running (you just never know what you will encounter).

Sweat.  Laughter.  Exhaustion. Stink.  An hour or two of sleep (if we're lucky) under the streetlamps in a school parking lot.  More laughter.  Driving.  Running.  Eating.  Sponge baths.  Story swapping.  Cheering.  High-fiving. More stink.

Group finish line.

Medal.

More High-fives.  

Home.

Beer.

A great experience every time.  I'm running 15.4 miles over 3 legs this time and I am SO excited.  Literally, can't wait to get the slap bracelet and start my first run.  Bring.it.on.

"Race report" to follow...

But pictures?  We'll see.  ;)

Go Bacon-to-Biscuits!!!  Let the fun begin...

For the love of viral video...

Next to the latest SNL digital short with Lady Gaga, this is just about the funniest video I've seen in ages.

And I don't even own a mini van.

Or a Toyota.

Or kids.

Enjoy anyway.  I did.

Window to my soul

Every morning, well after the initial alarm notes fill the room...and somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd hit of the snooze button, I look out my window and take inventory.

The ritual began when I was in the midst of the emotional pain of a break-up and subsequent betrayal and it was an essential way to remember.  Sleep and dreams (even nightmares) had a wonderful way of altering my reality. When I awoke, sometimes my mind played tricks on me and I thought, for a brief moment, that this was not real.  This could not possibly be happening.

Sleep was really the only reprieve from thinking and spinning and hurt and confusion and anger.  It didn't always provide an escape - there were so many times in the first few months that sleep just allowed repressed memories to rise to the surface and I would awake in the middle of the night screaming or crying or even sweating.  Other times, however, it was pure relief.  Yet even in those blessed nights of utter blackness, it felt like during the night someone slipped the bill under the door leaving me to reconcile the final charges in the morning.  Over and over.  Forget.  Remember.  Forget. Remember.  Until eventually it became the fabric of my being and not this crazy, unreal dark cloud hanging over my head.

From my bed I would look out the window at the treetops, the sky, and think...the days just keep coming.  The sun just keeps rising.  Night gives way to day, and with each day I took another step toward getting stronger.

Some things get easier.  Some things haven't changed at all.  Yet there is a strange comfort in keeping the ritual.  In taking the moment before I start my day to just be in the moment, I breathe in a new form of peace.

In taking inventory, I do a quick checklist of what I've lost...him, a fierce yet simplistic belief in the notion of soulmates, blind trust, faith in an "all in" kind of love, and a somewhat innocent view of people and the world.

Today I consciously focus on doing a longer checklist of what I have, and what I've gained...rekindled trust in the power of friendships, love of my time just hanging out with my girlfriends, a growing comfort in my own skin, rediscovery of the parts of my life I neglected for a long time, a joy in the most basic of things like watching my dog's tail wag or breathing deeply, and an evolving self-forgiveness that I hope continues to unfold.

In other words, I am grateful for what I have because that list, for all of us, is so much longer than what we miss or lack or feel we have lost.  So much is good and it is so easy to focus on the bad...

My window is my center.  Do you have a window?