My Running-Esteem

I've spent the vast majority of the short life I've lived on earth ashamed of who I am.  Or, let me rephrase: I spent the vast majority of these years ashamed of who I thought I was.

No, that still doesn't sound right...

I spent the first five sixths of my 30 years in this life being disappointed in myself for not being who I thought I should be.

I wasn't as short as all the other girls.  My hair wasn't straight.  My boobs weren't big enough and my feet weren't small enough.  My stomach wasn't flat enough and my skin wasn't flawless enough.  I wasn't outgoing enough.  I wasn't interesting enough.  I wasn't as comfortable talking to boys as all my other friends.

I spent the entirety of my teens and early twenties wanting to be an ideal version of myself that had absolutely no connection to who I actually was as a person.  Who knows where the image of this ideal version came from, but I honestly didn't think people would ever really like me until I became that person.  I was insecure and I was unhappy.  And I hated myself for that too.  I wouldn't look in the mirror and I spent my evenings filling diary after diary with all the things I hated about myself and all the things I thought I should be.

Let's just say that my self-esteem wasn't quite the best.

But somewhere between the ages of 24 and 26, events, emotions, and locations collided enough for me to finally realize that I was a person worth knowing.  I was interesting.  I was nice.  People liked being friends with me.  I could be funny.  When I talked, people actually listened.  And suddenly, as I realized that other people thought I was worth knowing and being around, I began to acknowledge who I was to myself as well.

Slowly, I let go of all of the preconceived notions of who I thought I should be, and started to get to know myself as I was.  And, turns out, I kinda liked that person.  I began to shed my layers of insecurity and bolster my self-esteem with newer, stronger layers of skin.  I couldn't grow those new layers of skin until I let go of the old ones.  From those new layers, I've grown into the person I'm proud to be today--and I couldn't have done that unless I let go of the image of myself that I thought I should be and accepted the person I actually was.

I realize that this story isn't unique.  I'm not the only one who has faced the tortures of low self-esteem and the discovery of oneself.  But we needed to get through all that understand what I'm currently experiencing in my running.  It's time to switch gears from self-esteem and begin talking about what I'm now going to term my "Running-Esteem."

Running-esteem could be defined as the belief in yourself and your capabilities as a runner.  We all have our own levels of running-esteem, which affect the way we see ourselves as runners.

When I started running in 2008, I didn't consider myself a runner.  I didn't care about my running-esteem because I didn't view myself as a runner.  After my first half marathon in 2009 and even my first marathon in 2010, I still didn't really see myself as a "real runner" and therefore had no expectations for myself as a runner.  But after my second marathon in 2011, I started to develop an image of myself as a runner.  Which also meant that I started to develop an image of the runner that I thought I should be.

When I ran my third marathon in 2012, I PR'd by 10 minutes, but I wasn't really happy with that race.  Because in my head, I thought I should have run faster.  I let loose a little in my 4th marathon because it was part of the Goofy Challenge in 2013, and I gave myself a brief reprieve from the expectations of what I thought I should be as a runner and just had fun.

But then came marathon number 5 that happened just about a year ago.  Let's call marathon number 5 the late teens of my marathon career.  I had an ideal image of who I thought I should be as a runner.  I should be faster.  I should be stronger.  I should feel better.  I should...I should...I should...

Because I had this image of who I thought I should be, which in reality I wasn't, my running-esteem plummeted.  Running wasn't fun anymore.  It was the constant torture of trying to push yourself to be someone you aren't.  And we all know that you can't will yourself into being anyone apart from yourself--not really.  We can all guess how marathon number five turned out.  Crushed hopes, frustration, and anger.  And then anger at myself for feeling that way.  Let the spiral of a plummeting running-esteem commence.

For about a year and a half, I've been stuck in that spiral of trying to be the runner I thought I should be and then getting more and more disappointed as I struggled through endless uncomfortable, painful, and unpleasant runs.

But now, two and a half weeks into my very short Eugene marathon training plan, I find that I'm crawling out of my low running-esteem hole.  And it is one simple, major difference that has allowed me to finally raise my running-esteem:

I've finally realized that I am who I am as a runner.

If there was only one important thing that I took away from my Lydiard coaches training and my conversations with Coach Shelby since then (there isn't just one important thing, but I do think this is the most important), it's that I must be true to myself and who I am as a runner.  My body is capable of doing exactly what it is telling me it can handle.  Pushing it and pushing it to the extreme in an effort to be the runner it think I should be only works against me.

For the last 2+ weeks, I've been doing nothing but listen to my body.  I changed the display on my Garmin to show only time--no paces, no mileage, nothing else.  All I get to see is how long I've been running.  The rest I gauge completely based on who I am right now as a runner.  I listen to my breath.  I feel my legs and my lungs.  I take stock of my energy level.  And those factors are the only ones I pay attention to as I run every day.

I've accepted the runner I am right now and have shed the insecurities that resulted from constantly trying to be the runner I thought I should be.  I finish every run now feeling good and happy.  Not exhausted, frustrated, and angry at the numbers on my watch that just won't seem to register the way that I want them to.

I've felt better about my running in the last 2 weeks than I have in much too long of a time.  I've left the early twenties of my running career and have entered the mid-twenties.  I've taken the first step necessary in growing into the runner that I may one day be.  I've learned to love the runner that I am right now.

My running-esteem is right back where it should be.  And I'm ready to keep building on that strength.

It's all too loud

I had a thought today as I was walking Lucy and Penny on our 15 minute post-work walk route.  This was the thought that got stuck in my head on repeat: Life has been too loud lately.  And I mean that literally.  My life right now just seems to have too much noise in it.  From the traffic I can hear outside my open living room windows to the bass on my neighbor's music system that I hear far too loudly through my walls to the incessant non-stop talking of first graders in the springtime, it just seems like I haven't had a quiet moment in months.

I'm hyper aware of noises right now, which doesn't help.  Although Penny has adjusted by leaps and bounds to a life that includes much more outdoor time than I think she was used to (no more shakes on walks!  Unless it's raining of course--although that's getting better too!), the month or two I spent avoiding busy streets, buses, and anything close to Aurora Ave upped my sensitivity to all that noise.  While Penny has adjusted, I can't seem to get away from it anymore.

When I moved to Seattle from New York, I was amazed at how quiet Seattle was.  No sirens blaring at all hours, no cracked-out bums screaming on the street at 3 in the morning.  The silence here kept me awake at night.  But now I've recalibrated, and the noise has become grating again.

My girls.  Fantastically well-adjusted to the great outdoors.

So as I thought about the run I was about to go on--the run that I had thought about all day--I decided to do something daringly different.  I decided NOT to take my headphones.  This frightened me slightly because my headphones have always been my distraction on my solo runs.  They're my lifeline when I'm in pain.  My music is my source of emotion when the emotion I'm actually feeling isn't one I really want to face.  My audiobooks take my mind away from the movement of my feet and the steady rhythm of my breath.  Going for a run without these crutches pushed me out of my comfort zone.  But I was desperate for quiet, and the thought of throwing more sound directly into my ear canals had me cringing.  So I waved goodbye to my comfort zone.

There was another reason why this greatly anticipated run had me feeling slightly out of my comfort zone too.  I haven't run in 2 weeks (except for a run with the dogs at the animal shelter last Monday, but that doesn't count).  I took a self-imposed, potentially knee-healing two week break after my Team in Training coaching season officially came to an end.  Today was the day that I was officially allowing myself back into the running game.  Today was the day I would see if it was all worth it.

Once I returned from my walk with the girls, I strapped on my Garmin, laced up my running shoes, left my headphones in their drawer, and sat my phone on the table for a rest.  Then I stepped out the door with my fingers crossed behind my back.

After strolling for two blocks giving my Garmin the annoyed "comeonalready!" face, it connected to its satellites and we were off.  Let me lay out for you the thought process of what happened in the next mile:

"Yay, no knee pain!"
"Don't celebrate so soon, it's only the first couple blocks."
"Tighten your abs, push your hips forward."
"Use those glutes!  Run with your butt!"
"Man, those cars are loud."
"Oh, that was a pretty little bird chirp.  I wouldn't have heard that with headphones on."
"What is the name of that bird I hear so loudly from outside the zoo all the time?  Why can't I ever remember it's name?"
"Shoot, I think I forgot to make those copies for tomorrow."
"Glutes! Abs!"
"How's the knee?  Hmm, still feeling good I think.  At least it feels about the same as the other one right now."
"I need to remember to ask for more snacks from the parents at school tomorrow."
"What was it those two first graders were arguing about today?  Ugh, I need to talk to them in the morning."
"Push your hips forward!  Engage those glutes!"
"Could I be running on a louder street?  I don't think I could."
"The Sounders game on Saturday was fun."
"I wonder when the next one is I'm going to.  I should check my phone when I get home."
"OH MY GOD I'M RUNNING A MARATHON IN 12 WEEKS!"
"I wonder where I'm meeting my friend for dinner tomorrow night."
"This hill feels great, I feel like I'm flying."
"Stupid cyclist, get off the sidewalk.  There's a bike lane right there! Literally, RIGHT THERE!"
"Abs! Glutes!"
"Check in with the knee.  Yep, still feeling good."
"Sometimes I feel sad."
"But I'm not sad right now, what do I have to be sad about?"
"Oooh! Kids playing soccer games!  Scan the crowds, look for those first graders!"
"I wonder how far I'll make it today.  My breathing feels good."
"How fast am I going? NO! Don't look at your watch, idiot.  Just run how you feel."
"Tighten your butt!  What are your abs doing?"
"When will I ever find a boy who actually likes me?"
"The tag in the back of this shirt brushes the strap of my sports bra really loudly.  How have I never noticed that before?"
"I'm getting tired already."
"POSITIVE THOUGHTS ONLY! You're doing great.  This feels great."
"What am I going to write about in the blog tonight?  I hope I get inspired, it's been forever since I have."
"Is that...oh no, it just looked like her."
"Glutes!!  Abs!!"
"Those cars are SO LOUD."
"What should I make for dinner tonight?"

This endless stream of nonsense continued until I hit about mile two.  And then it hit me.  In fact, it punched me in the face.  And my mind, as it always does, went back to The Oatmeal who so eloquently said:

"And the buzzing road of the world is nothing compared to the noise inside my head. I'm an introspective person, and sometimes I think too much, about my job and about my life.  I feed an army of pointless, bantering demons."

YES.  This is where all that godawful noise has been coming from.  This is why I can't get away from it.  It's not the stupid cars or my headphones or my annoying neighbor.  It's the noise in my head that's so loud (that train of unconnected thoughts above plus all the more personal demons I omitted from publishing on the internet).  The Oatmeal, of course, explains how he quiets his demons:

"But when I run, the world grows quiet.  Demons are forgotten.  Krakens are slain.  And Blerches are silenced."

You know the Blerch.  The fat little cherub on your shoulder that urges you
to lounge on the couch and eat, eat, eat some more.

This used to be true for me.  There was once a time when running could silence all those demons for me.  Or at least provide the silence necessary for me to work against them and silence them myself.  But I haven't been running much lately.  And when I have, it all sounds pretty much like the random selection above, plus or minus a few things.

So for the second half of my run, I focused on silencing the demons and the krakens and the Blerches.  Generally, I focused on not feeling.  Just not feeling anything.  Until I realized that sometimes I run because it makes me feel.  Because there are certain feelings that I'm not very good at allowing myself to feel and when I run, I feel things like pain and discomfort and struggle--all those difficult feelings I like to ignore in my personal, non-work, non-running life.  And I realized that that is the exact opposite of what the Oatmeal likes about running.

And then I told myself to shut up again.

Just SHUT UP.

But I guess I'm not very good at that.  Because after struggling through a 4.5 mile run, trying not to feel anything and apparently feeling everything instead (except a pain in my knee--didn't feel that!!), I decided to come home and blog about it.  To delve even deeper into the noises in my head.

Which has all led me to the final big realization of the day.  It isn't running that keeps my voices quiet.  And it isn't writing that quiets them either (I have, in fact, been writing a ton lately despite the silence on the blog and while I'm happy with what's been spewing out, I wouldn't say it has promoted sanity).  It's this strange combination of the two that quiets the demons, krakens, and Blerches in my head.  This odd imbalanced equation where running plus writing equals sanity.

These two also, counter-intuitively, make my life just a little more sane.

With the amount of running and writing in my life both increasing on the near horizon, I'm growing hopeful that this "not-exactly-me" feeling I've had about myself the past few months will slowly disappear and the real me will return again.

But that's something I'll worry about later.  For now, after a good run and a solid stint of writing, I feel the world around me growing silent for the first time in way too long.

I'm going to go enjoy it.

Seekers of the Why

I go through phases of keeping current with the news.  Sometimes I have weeks or months at a time when I religiously read the paper--or at least the headlines--every morning.  I listen to NPR in the car every day, before and after work (when they're not in the middle of a pledge drive, which happens to be this week).  I feel proud of myself for being an informed, concerned citizen.  I wave my "I have informed opinions!" banner proudly.

But after a few months, I usually start to realize that keeping up with the news is incredibly depressing.  It's also frustrating because you have to hear about things like Washington State senators giving themselves a $30 a day pay raise (per diem when they're in session) when they haven't managed to fit voter-approved Cost of Living Adjustments for teachers into the budget in the last 6 years.  When I start to get overly frustrated or overly sad, I'll fold up my "I have informed opinions!" banner and put it on the shelf.  And I'll take a break from the news for a while.  Typically until I start feeling ridiculously uninformed again.

Right now, I'm in an upswing.  I read the newspaper for at least 10 minutes as I wolf down my breakfast/coffee each morning.  I'm listening to NPR (even with the Spring Pledge Drive giving me a massive guilt trip).  I'm keeping up to date on my countless podcasts as I walk the dogs and run.

But I'm starting to notice something.  There's been a lot of tragedy in the news lately.  I don't know if it seems like a lot because of current swing of my news-following pendulum or if it's actually because there's a lot of tragedy in the news right now.  However, in the past week or two alone, the paper has been filled with updates on the mysterious disappearance of Malaysia flight 370, the crash of the KOMO News helicopter, and the catastrophe of the Oso landslide, to name a few.

Just look at today's headline:

"Enormity of loss" is a hard thing to wake up to.  25 people found dead, 90
still missing after 5 days.  It's hard to be positive about the prospects of
what the news will be for the days to come.

Take a close look at those red subheadings though.  To the left, an expression of just how horrible this incident really is.  To the right, a speculation.

The speculation...that's what really bothers me about it all.  I might stick with the news on a regular basis, despite the sadness of each tragedy, if it weren't for the speculation.

Every morning as I open the paper and watch lives turned into death toll tallies, I read as news reporters speculate on one never-ending question: "Why?"

I don't blame them for asking the question.  Asking "Why?" seems to be something innate in us as humans.  With discovery of each new tragedy, the immediate focus of our minds always becomes "Why?" Why did the Tsarnaev brothers bomb the Boston Marathon?  Why did Adam Lanza choose an elementary school as the target of his shooting spree?  Why did flight 370 disappear?  Why did the chopper go down?  Why did the landslide happen?

I am not exempt from all of this questioning.  I want to know why.

I even seek the "Why?" in more personal and even often trivial aspects of my life.  Why couldn't I hit my sub-4:00 marathon last year?  Why am I injured?  Why did I knowingly decide to consume so much dairy in the last 2 days, resulting in an extremely uncomfortable multiple-bathroom-stop run today?  Why am I 30 and alone (see previous question)?

And after adopting Penny, guess what the most common question I get is.  If you guessed "Why?," I am not giving you a gold star.  Because it was way too obvious. "Why?"  "Why was Penny the one?" "Why was she at the shelter?"

"Why would someone give up this adorable little destroyer
of well-made beds?"

We are all Seekers of the Why.  It is undeniably in our nature, despite the fact that finding out way will never change the outcome.  I don't know why Penny was there.  I don't know why every couple months I decide that I don't care if my body hates dairy.  I don't really know why the Seattle RNR Marathon sucked for me last year.  I don't know why the plane disappeared, and I don't know why people kill other people on purpose.

And if I did know the answers to all these why questions, it won't change what happened.  I will still have a painful knee.  Penny will still be my dog.  There will still be a classroom full of first graders, including their teacher, that lost their lives way too soon.  There will still be 90 people missing 5 days after a massive landslide.  There will still be 239 people that disappeared over an ocean somewhere.

Yet we still ask "Why?".  We search for answers, often in vain.  But I see one main division in the our world of Seekers of the Why.  I may be missing something here, because I have done absolutely zero research on this besides searching through my own thoughts, so I claim no expertise.  But as I see it, Seekers of the Why fit into two groups: Seekers of the Why for Blame and Seekers of the Why for Change.

Let me explain more fully:

Seekers of the Why for Blame are looking to pin fault.  They want retribution.  They want punishment.  They may even want revenge.  This is not a bad thing.  Consequences should be sought for horrid actions and neglect of responsibilities (safety, supervision, etc).  But sometimes I feel as though Seekers of the Why for Blame are going too far.

This is what bothers me about the right-hand subheading of today's paper.  Landslides happen.  Maybe they logged a little too close.  Maybe warnings to residents of their unsafe habitat were ignored.  But I don't think that anyone can be blamed for this.  We live on a changing, shifting planet.  Blame who you want, but when it comes down to it Mother Nature will always have the final say.

It's the speculation that drives me nuts.  There was an article last week about the pilot of the KOMO news helicopter.  According to the reporter, he worked 2 jobs.  He could have been over-exhausted.  Are we so desperate to find blame that we are willing to speculate without fact even before the dead have been mourned?

Seekers of the Why for Change are looking for something different.  They are looking to learn something from the mess we've gotten ourselves into.  Why did Adam Lanza and the Tsarnaev brothers carry so much hate?  Why was there a neighborhood so close to an unsteady cliff prone to landslides?

Seekers of the Why for Change may believe in consequences for the guilty, but they also believe that is not enough.  We need to know why the guilty became guilty so that it doesn't happen again.  Place blame where it is necessary, but until we know why those at fault walked the broken path they walked, we are doomed to repeat their errors.

I think that both factions of Seekers of the Why exist because we are human.  We are faulty and error-prone and imperfect.  We need both kinds of Seekers and cannot have one without the other.  But in the news, I've noticed a trend of reporting in only one category.

And I guess my question is:

"Why?"

Little adjustments

Sometimes I think that it is the small, incremental changes in life that are the hardest to handle.  Big changes are...well...big.  They require a complete overhaul of life, a paradigm shift, or a drastic leap (in one direction or the other) away from everything that you are used to.  While I would never make the claim that these big changes aren't difficult, it's just that adjusting to them and accepting them as they occur can sometimes happen more suddenly.

For comparison's sake, let's think about when you wake up in the morning.  Say, for example, you wake up at 7:30 every morning (lucky you).  As you start the week, you realize that on Wednesday morning you have a very early meeting and you are going to have to wake up at 5:30, 2 hours earlier, in order to make it on time.  While you probably will dread this, here's what you might do to prep for it: on Tuesday night, you might decide to skip a workout or happy hour and make dinner early.  You'll put yourself to bed early.  Then in the morning when that 5:30 AM alarm goes off, it still sucks, but at least you're prepared for it. [note: this, of course, only applies to planned big changes.]

Now, keeping in mind that 7:30 typical wake up, let's say that Friday morning you realize that you have to stop by the grocery store on the way to work and pick up some snacks for a staff lunch party.  To accommodate for the extra time this will take, you decide to set your alarm for 7:15.  Since it's only a 15 minute difference, you don't alter your Thursday evening schedule.  You may try to get in bed a little early but don't really fall asleep until your normal time anyways.  And then in the morning when the alarm goes off, you can't believe it's already time to get up.  To be able to sleep for another 15 minutes would feel amazing, but you peel yourself out of bed anyways.  And for the rest of the day, that 15 minutes lingers with you.  By the end of the day, you're exhausted.

For those planned big changes, you prep yourself.  You get yourself ready.  You make sure you are set up for success when that big change arrives.  But for little changes, you think to yourself "eh, no big deal" and let them arrive.  But as little as that change is, you feel it like a big one.  Because you didn't ready yourself for it.  It throws you off kilter enough for you to notice a difference, but not necessarily want to do anything about it.

When it comes to change, I'd say I've done a pretty good job learning how to handle the big ones.  A few major job changes, a cross-country move to a city where I knew exactly one person, becoming a marathoner--all these things have helped me to feel comfortable with pre-planned big changes.  In fact, oftentimes I look forward to these changes.  Because I usually choose to make them happen at just the point when I need a change.

But little changes...that's a different story. I hate waking up 15 minutes early (even though I have do it every Thursday morning).  And that's the smallest of the little changes.  But when I have to make little changes, or adjustments to my life, things seem to be off kilter for longer than the big changes.  It takes me a lot longer to find my equilibrium when I'm changing things just a little bit at a time.

Take my running right now.  I'm still not fully recovered.  I've been injured for almost 5 months now.  And I still can't figure out the balance that I need to stay healthy.  Every week, I run on different days, for different distances, at different paces, and I've been slowly altering my run/walk intervals.  But no matter what I do, no matter how little or how much I push myself, I can't find the balance that makes everything feel better again.

Running kind of feels like this right now.  I'm out there and I'm doing it and
for the most part I'm enjoying it, but I have no idea what's coming up around
that next bend in the road.

Last Wednesday, I went for an amazing run.  I was itching to put some miles on my legs, but hesitating to do too much.  I've been sticking to Green Lake loops lately so that I can cut things short if anything starts to hurt.  But I decided to be daring on Wednesday.  I decided to tackle one of my hillier, longer loops through Ballard.  It was pouring rain, and after a trying day with my first graders, all I wanted to do was run--and run fast.  So I did.  I still stuck to my current 8:1 interval, but even with the walk breaks included, I logged some paces I haven't seen on a 5+ mile run in quite a while.  It was one of those days where everything felt strong and great--even the rain.  I let the rain soak through me and pound against me, and it only made me fight harder.  While nothing is pain-free yet, I was almost able to forget about my nagging knee.

Then I let myself rest for 2 days and went out to coach a TNT practice on Saturday morning.  We took some hilly loops through Discovery Park and Magnolia, and I was less than 2 miles into the run when my knee pain intensified and didn't stop for the rest of the 12 mile run.  It was the first time I ever had to consciously make the choice to try to run less miles during a coaching run.  So frustrating.

I can't help but continue to be frustrated with the ups and downs of running for me when all these little adjustments I keep trying to make just don't seem to be working quickly enough.  And then I remember that they are little adjustments.  I need to give them time.  I definitely have a lot more good days than bad days now.  But what's funny is, as much as I have an endless font of patience for my first graders and my job, I have very little patience when it comes to running.  I want to be better and I want to feel good now.  I'm tired of all these little adjustments that might slowly be working their way towards an equilibrium.

But running isn't the only thing I'm making adjustments for right now.  There's also this little lady:

My lovely little snuggle-muffin.

Lucy and I have been spending that last 2 weeks adjusting to life with Penny.  And the strangest thing about adding Penny to our family was that it wasn't a big change.  When I made the whim of a decision to bring Penny home, I expected life to be very different.  I expected to have to make some big changes to me and Lucy's comfortable routines.

Somewhat unsurprisingly considering serendipity of events that occurred in order for me and Penny to meet and quickly fall in love, Penny has absorbed herself with ease into my and Lucy's life.  However, once I realized that Penny wasn't a drastic change in our lives, it became more challenging for me to make the little adjustments necessary for Penny.

The biggest example is our morning walks.  Penny is still going through this hesitant, not-sure-about-walking thing.  I've realized that it mainly is a result of anything to do with the sky.  She definitely does not like rain.

I bought her this snazzy little jacket.  She loves it so much she even helps
me put it on her.

She also doesn't like things in the sky.  We passed by a park and she spotted some sort of toy hovercraft in the sky (I never would have noticed it, but she zoned in on it until I was able to spot it).  She was shaking with fright for the rest of the walk.  She also doesn't seem to like tall walls next to her or loud buses.

In general, we've had to make a lot of adjustments on our walks.  I've changed up some of our routes.  In the mornings, if it's raining, Penny only comes out for a potty break--then we drop her back off at home and Lucy and I continue on our way.  This has eaten into a little bit of Lucy's morning exercise time.

When Penny does join us for long walks, I'm now juggling two leashes and often, since they seem to be quite in sync with their potties, I could also be carrying 2 poop bags along with those leashes until we find a garbage can.

It's not always easy managing both of these two, especially when another
four legged friend walks by.  Penny will wiggle her butt with all her might
with excitement to say hello, which puts Lucy a little on edge and lunging
where she didn't previously.

Every morning/afternoon walk is a question.  How will Penny do?  Where will we be able to go, and how far?  Will she get scared, or will this be an okay walk?  What was once the most relaxing part of my day--a long walk with Lucy--has now become something a little more involved.

Not that I'm complaining.  I love Penny and wouldn't trade her for anything.  It's just a little adjustment.  Which for me, takes a lot of getting used to.

Other small adjustments that I've had to make for Penny include giving up 3/4 of my queen size bed to a 40lb dog, learning to share my overabundance of puppy love equally between two lady-dogs, and learning how to type on a laptop with a dog in my lap.

This puts quite a strain on the finger-typing muscles along the length of
my right arm.

I also can no longer go to the bathroom alone.

"Whatcha doin in here, mom?"

All these little changes, whether from running or Penny, haven't been easy.  But as with any challenge I've faced up until now, I'm learning a ton.  And the biggest benefit I think I'm getting out of all of this?

I'm learning to be flexible.

Flexible with my time.  Flexible with my routines.  Flexible with the trivialities of daily life.

I've always considered myself to be a pretty flexible person when it comes to working with/socializing with people.  But when it comes to my own personal routines, flexibility has never been something I've desired or needed to have in my single (and single-dog) life.  And if becoming more flexible with my personal "me" time is a side-effect of all these small adjustments, I'll take it.  

Now that I'm 30, I figure it's about time I learn to let go of a little bit of that rigidity.  Because I'd hope in the not-too-far-away future, that flexibility will start to come in handy.

And in the meantime, whenever things to start feel a little too overwhelming, I'll just take a look at these two:

And then everything will be all better.

Suddenly, life is different

*Side note: I was going to put a little note in here about why I haven't written in so long, but I've decided I need to stop feeling the compulsion to explain any extended absence from the blogosphere.  Life happens and I doubt you really care all that much.  Sometimes I take breaks.  No more explanation necessary.  Now on to more important matters...

I know that many of you were quite surprised last week to find out that Lucy and I had a new addition to our  small family.

Penny!!

I was too.

Penny was in no way a planned addition to the family.  Penny just kind of happened.  But let me explain.

As we know, from my "30 things to do before I'm 30" list, I happily checked off the item "walk dogs at the animal shelter."  I picked up a 2 hour weekly shift and will soon be switching to the running group.  

We may also remember that I posted this on Facebook shortly after getting approved as a walker:

It was a joke, but apparently I'm the only one that thought so.

I didn't get trained as a walker until mid December, and then didn't do my first walking shift until just after New Year's Eve.  So from the start of my first walking shift, I made it exactly 7 weeks without bringing a friend home for Lucy.  Although I had to be absent for 2 of those shifts, so technically I guess it was only 5 weeks.

Mathematics aside, I don't think it would have mattered when I met her.  I hate to sound so cheesy and cliche, but it was love at first sight.

I mean seriously, look at that face.

I walked in on Thursday evening for my shift and did my usual stroll through the kennels to see who I'd like to walk first.  There weren't a ton of walkable dogs that night, and as soon as I laid eyes on Penny (her name was Daffodil at the time), I ran and grabbed a leash before any of the other walkers could snatch her up.

As soon as I opened the kennel and bent down to leash her up, she immediately jumped in my lap (she's a little too big to be a lap dog, but she doesn't seem to know that).  She was shaking and scared and all she wanted to do was cuddle.  My heart began to ache for her right away.

When I finally got the leash on her and took her outside, the shaking didn't stop, and she refused to walk past the outdoor kennels at the shelter.  So I went with her inside one of the play areas, where she immediately hopped up onto the one bench in the area.  I sat down next to her, she sidled up next to me, half sitting on me, and we sat there together for 10 minutes as she continued to shake.  More heart ache for this sweet little girl.

Once I finally got her to walk, she was great on the leash aside from every few moments where she would stop suddenly and begin shaking again.

When we got back inside the shelter and I put her back in the kennel, even though there were no more dogs left to walk, I couldn't leave.  I went back into her kennel with her and snuggled for another good while.  As other volunteers walked by, they joked that we both looked way too comfortable together.

When I finally pried myself away from her to head home, I told a few of the other volunteers "If she's still here next week, I'm adopting her."  I call this my attempt at sanity.  My attempt at being smart and not getting another dog.  My attempt at convincing myself that this was just another cute shelter dog--I'd trust that she'd be adopted by a good family and I'd be happy for her.  Because she was way too lovable and I knew she would be adopted in a snap.

Just look at this princess.  How could you not fall in love?

But something strange happened that I can't quite describe when I got in my car and began pulling away from the shelter.  It physically felt wrong leaving her behind.  My heart was pounding, my fingers shaking, and suddenly I knew that there was something about this dog that was different from all the rest.  It quite literally felt like I had left a chunk of my heart in that kennel with her.

But I still wasn't ready to admit that I was going to take her home.  As much as I'd joked and talked about being tempted into getting another dog when I started volunteering, I never actually expected to.  I didn't think I should.  Or could.

So I posted this on Facebook (because when you're looking for encouragement, one way or another you can find it on Facebook...)

And the overwhelming response from my FB community: "do it!!"  I had hoped for sanity.  I should have remembered that a large portion of my friends are die-hard dog lovers too.

After a phone conversation with Nadine (TNT coach and fellow Seattle Animal Shelter dog walker/enthusiast), I had already formulated a plan for going in to adopt Penny the next day.

Although I still hadn't admitted to myself that I was doing it.

Then I went to a trivia night which just happened to be at Norm's (if you're not a Seattleite, Norm's is a dog-friendly bar--every table has some sort of adorable cuddly fluffball hitched to a table leg).  I talked through my crazy decision with 2 more friends/dog lovers and began to let things start to sink in:  Penny was going to be my dog.

Here is the other stroke of fate that made all this occur: I had last week off of work.  Which meant, when I woke up without an alarm clock at 7:30 am, tossing and turning, unable to get Penny off my mind, I could go right down to the shelter and claim her.

After walking Lucy that morning, I was at the shelter by 9:30am (public adoption hours aren't until noon, but as a walker, I could finagle my way in early).  I filled out the paperwork, and all I had left to solidify the adoption was for Lucy and Penny to meet.

This made me nervous.  Lucy gets along with most dogs, but not all.  When I thought about the possibility of the meet and greet with them not working, I felt those same horrible shakes and heart pangs as the evening before.  But with the kindhearted assistance of Nadine, who met me at the shelter to help me out with the meet and greet, everything went smoothly.  After dropping Lucy back home and a very expensive trip to Petco, Penny and I were on our way home.

She wanted to climb in my lap the whole way home.  It
took all the strength I have in my piddly little right bicep
to keep her elbowed over into the passenger seat for the
10 minute drive.

It was when we finally pulled up in front of my apartment that it finally struck me.  This little lady belong to me.  Or I belonged to her.  Sometimes I'm not really sure which way the relationship goes with pets.  Let's just say we belonged to each other.

The minute I brought her inside, this happened:

That's Lucy's, "is this thing actually staying here?" look.
Penny wanted to play and play and play some more.

Despite the initial play session, Lucy and Penny are actually pretty mellow together.  They played a couple of times in the first few days and worked out who was in charge (thankfully, Penny is more than willing to let Lucy be the boss--otherwise this wouldn't have worked).  For the past couple of days, they've pretty much kept to themselves.

Except this happened.  Lucy is not a snuggler.  Penny is an
over-snuggler.  This lasted about 3 minutes.  There are a lot
of pictures.

There was also this:

Morning kisses!

And this fun Sunday morning snuggle that we all shared:

All in our new designated couch positions: Lucy in her usual spot, me in
my usual spot, and Penny on top of me.

In the near week that Penny has been with us, she has claimed the bed and the couch as the sole 2 places she resides when we're home.  And if I'm not watching, she turns them into the perfect little nests for herself.

This is what my bed looked like when I came home from work on Monday:

See that perfect little Penny-sized indentation in the
middle of my disheveled pillows?

She'll rearrange the couch to suit her fancy:

And I've been all but kicked out of my own spot on the couch:

Matching bundles of dog make my heart melt.

But getting used to rearranged sleeping preferences hasn't been the most difficult part of this past week.  Not that anything has been particularly difficult, but there have been some pretty interesting revelations.  And the biggest eye opener has had very little to do with Penny and her adjustment, and more to do with me and my adjustment.

What I've realized, and that I knew before but hadn't fully understood, is how much Lucy and I know each other.  I rescued Lucy when she was 3 months old from a shelter in Long Island, NY.  I brought her home just weeks before my first year of teaching.  I house-trained her, I leash-trained her, and I taught her how to sit, stay and come (although she's never been exceptional with "come").  

Lucy and I have been together for 7 and a half years and she knows me like no one else.  Lucy has been with me through 4 apartment moves (one of those moves across the country).  She's been with me through all my years of first graders.  She knows all my routines.  She can predict whether or not she gets to leave the house with me based on what pair of pants I put on.  She forced me to start running.  She's been with me through each half-ounce of a relationship I've had in the last few years.

And I know Lucy like no one else.  I know every facial expression.  I know what each whine and groan means.  I know on walks if it's a "pee sniff," a "poop sniff," or just a "sniff sniff."  I know all of her fears (mainly high-pitched beeping noises and fans).  I know when she's nervous, uneasy, scared, or completely relaxed.  I know what she needs at any moment of the day.

For 7.5 years, roommates (human and animal alike) have come and gone.  But it's always been me and Lucy.  Lucy and me.  And for the last 3 years, it really has been just the two of us.

But now, there's Penny.

Sweet, snuggly, wonderful Penny.

And here's what I find the most difficult thing right now: Penny and I don't know each other the way Lucy and I do.  When she randomly freezes midstride on walks and begins shaking, I don't know what she's afraid of.  I don't always know if she's happy or sad or excited or confused.  I don't know how much exercise she needs or what exactly she needs to feel comfortable.  I don't know if she trusts me fully yet.  Being 2 years old, and me being in the dark about her history (other than being adopted from the shelter 3 months ago and return because of landlord restrictions), I don't know how long it's going to take for her to realize that me and Lucy are a permanent home for her.

I don't know how long it's going to take for us to get to know each other.  But, in the week that we've known each other, I've learned enough about her that I think I've got a good start.  Here's what I know:

1)  She loves to snuggle.  She's a lovebug.  All she wants to do from the minute I walk in the door is be next to me or on top of me.  I don't have to be petting her, she just needs to be in contact with me.  If I'm busy around the apartment, she's alert to my every move until we're all settled.

2)  She's not interested in treats as motivation.  I've tried every kind of treat in the last week to get her interested in training.  Regular ones.  Super meaty ones.  I even went to the grocery store and bought fresh cut deli turkey yesterday to try to motivate her through a walk.  Not interested.  This will prove to be extremely problematic when it comes to training.  Luckily, she's old enough and knows enough that she doesn't require a lot of training.  For the things I want to perfect, I'm going to have to get creative with how to train.  But, somewhat confusingly, she gets really excited for meals and eats her food right away.  Go figure.

3)  I don't think she's ever been taken for long walks.  She's not really sure how to handle them.  There's some trepidation as we move further and further from the house.  I think in past homes she's either only been taken out for potty breaks or just had a yard.  We're working on this one.  Lucy helps.  My hope is that we'll get from long walks to running.

4)  She loves Lucy.  I think she was more excited to see that her new home had a dog than a person.  I think she'll keep whittling away at Lucy's tough anti-snuggling exterior.  At least I hope so.

5)  When she's happy, her whole body wiggles.  Like a worm.  It's unstoppable.  Not that anyone in the world would ever want to stop it.

And that's it.  Six days at home, and this is what I know about Penny.  I know there's so much more.  

I can't wait to figure it out.

My new family.

The Seahawks are going to the Superbowl! And here's why it matters...

I used to be a football hater.

I just didn't get it.  When I watched a football game, all I saw was really big men hurling themselves against each other every minute or so.  And then the clock would stop.  And it would take an hour (like...forever) to get through a 15 minute quarter.  I had no idea what a "down" was.  I couldn't understand why getting one "goal" got you six points and then you got to kick a little bonus point after.  And why did they kick it when the rest of the time they were running with and throwing the ball?  I mean really...make up your minds.

And the whole yelling at the TV thing.  That was beyond me. THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU EVEN IF YOU YELL REALLY LOUD.

Both my high school and college football teams may as well have been nonexistent.  Lack of real skill plus lack of community excitement equals frequent exclamations of "Wait! We have a football team??"

These guys don't make college football news all that often.

I didn't grow up in a sports watching family.  Not to say that we weren't athletic.  We just participated in the sports--we didn't watch them.  The few times I remember my dad watching anything, it was basketball games.  And it quickly got voted off the screen by mom and the 4 children in favor of cartoons or sitcoms.  I remember the "Ugh, basketball?!?" cries of indignation as we walked into the living room and realized there was a game on our TV.

I didn't live in a city that was dedicated to its sports.  Rochester, NY doesn't have any major teams.  Our closest team is the Buffalo Bills.  And seeing as they haven't made it to the playoffs since 1999 (after suffering 4 consecutive Superbowl losses several years before that), there wasn't too much excitement surrounding them in my middle and high school years in Rochester.  Not hating on the Bills here.  I will proudly proclaim to be a downtrodden Bills fan now and keep them on my ScoreCenter update feed.  There just wasn't any excitement surrounding them in my world in the late '90s.

Go Bills!! When the Seahawks aren't playing.

My first experience with any major football game happened in college when I went to visit a friend at University of Michigan.  It happened to be Homecoming weekend and there was a game in "The Big House."  We woke up at 7 am, were playing beer pong by 8, and the rest of the day is a blur.  The stadium fascinated me, the crazed fans confused me, and the excitement of an entire community centered around a sports team baffled me.

Then I went back to NYC and forgot about it.  I made it through 6 years in NYC without ever seeing a game.  I never even made it to Yankee Stadium (I'm well aware that's a baseball stadium, but the fact contributes to my explanation here)--and the original one closed the year that I left.  Football was the furthest thing from my mind in NYC even though there are in fact three teams to choose from in that state (actually, now I believe that part of New York's problem is that there are too many teams to rally around--I mean really, the Giants and the Jets even play in the same stadium...why 2 teams?).

And then, I moved to Seattle.

Side note: There seems to be a "Seattle changed everything" theme in my life.  I apparently didn't care about much besides teaching and school until I moved here.  Which isn't bad, but there are other things in the world too, which I have since learned about.

My first year in Seattle, I fell immediately into a dedicated crowd of football fans.  The 2008 football season wasn't the highlight of the Seahawks career, and I learned the term "fair-weather fan."  But I loved the fair weather fans, because that meant that me and my friends could get cheap tickets to Qwest field.  We could find tickets the day before a game for as little as $35.  Which resulted in me attending six football games that season.

This football hater went to six games.

Before every game, we tailgated (protected from the rain under a viaduct that no longer exists).  I learned what it meant to shotgun a beer.  We didn't show up in the stadium often until well after the end of the 1st quarter.  While initially I was probably way more excited to wake up on a Sunday morning, hang out with friends, and have an excuse to drink all day, I eventually started paying attention to the actual game.

Awesome 12th ladies.  Seahawks vs. Patriots 12/7/08.  I am swimming in my
borrowed jersey.

And then as time passed, I actually started liking the game.  I learned some of the rules.  I began to understand the importance of a first down.  I remembered to call them touchdowns instead of goals.  I learned how to calculate points.

Since that season, I can say that my knowledge of football has grown immensely.  I've learned that the quarterback isn't the only player that matters on the team.  I actually get the point of running plays now.  I know what flags are for and understand the panic of one on a big play.  I understand the importance of having a high point differential.  Especially after this year, I realize that having an amazing defense is just as important as a good offense--those guys aren't just bodies on the field blocking the way.  It takes some real skill to do what they do.

Since that first season, I've never made it to more than one game per year.  I probably won't ever be a season ticket holder or go to nearly that many games in a season again.  So that first year will always be kind of special.

But from 2008 to 2013, my love and loyalty to the Seahawks has only increased.  And while my knowledge of the game itself has played a role in keeping me interested, that is not the reason why I have become a football fan.

What I've learned in my 5 year development as a 12th man is that it has very little to do with the actual game.

I mean, of course the game is important and there are lots of fans out there who love the game for just the game, but for me, what I really love about football isn't the game.

It's kind of like running (isn't everything?).  I love running.  I love everything about running--the way I feel after a good run, the grit of a good fight through a tough run, the amazing friends I've made in the running community, the incredible benefits to my health.  There are a lot of things I love about running, but one of the things I love the least about running is actually running.

This girl does NOT want to be running.

What's great about football, and what I believe is uniquely great about the Seahawks, is the 12th man.

Pause for those who need a 12th man explanation:  Seattle Seahawks fans are notoriously known for being the loudest, most loyal fans in football (we've actually registered small earthquakes due to explosive cheers in the stadium during games--google the term "beastquake").  The Seahawks players and management acknowledge and praise the presence of these fans.  In football, there are 11 players out on the field.  In Seattle, the "12th man" is the fans.  In 1984, the president of the Seahawks acknowledged the importance of the fan presence on the field by retiring the #12 jersey.  Now, you can buy #12 jersey (like any other jersey) but instead of a player name on the back, it says "fan."  To show support of the team, flags with 12 are flown throughout the city and the team raises the 12th man flag before every game in the stadium.  Check out this link for more history on the 12th man.

Even the Space Needle sports its 12th man flag during important games.

The Seattle Seahawks have an amazing relationship with their 12th man.  They acknowledge us in interviews--we were the ones that kept them going.  No one wants to disappoint the 12th man.  And yes, I realize that these guys are paid millions of dollars to play this game, but I believe them when they say that they play their best for us and we are who they're fighting for.  And that feels pretty darn good.

What it really comes down to is this:  when I am watching a game, cheering on my team, reacting to every disappointment and excitement...I am a part of something.

We had a door decorating contest at school, and I cannot even begin to tell
you how excited my little first graders were to put this together.

I am a part of this amazing city where thousands upon thousands screamed in pure undignified glory when Sherman tipped Kaepernick's last pass for an interception.

I am a part of the packed bar where people are standing on chairs and tables, belting "We are the Champions" at the top of their lungs.

I am a part of crowds of strangers high fiving and hugging each other, making contact in a world where interactions like this rarely exist.

I am a part of the endless conversations at work and elsewhere, recapping events, squabbling over opinions, and finding connections with people I previous thought I had nothing in common with.

I am a part of my group of friends who get together every week, win or lose, because this thing is important to us.

Me and the rest of the 12th man are a part of something.

And isn't that what we all really want anyways?  To be a part of something?

As a former football hater, I can't justify hating something that brings people together.  That makes them smile and feel true joy.  

And while it's not always smiles and hugs, when it is, there are SMILES and HUGS.  And even when there aren't smiles and hugs, we're all in it together.  So that makes it okay.

I certainly can't hate that.

More 12th ladies (and one Patriots fan).  All together and smiling.

So...the Seahawks are in the Superbowl and I am not at all ashamed to admit that I am beyond excited.

I am not ashamed to admit that it matters.

GO HAWKS!!!

Update: 30 things to do before I'm 30

T minus 3 days until I'm 30.  And seeing as there won't be a lot more checking things off the list between now and Thursday morning at 12:16 AM, I'm going to go ahead and file my progress report.

Almost exactly 4 months ago, I made a list of "30 Things I'd Like to do before I'm 30 that I've never done before." 

I feel like I could have come up with a more concise, clear name than that.  Oh well, what's done is done.  And here is how I did.

Progress Report: 30 things I'd like to do before I'm 30 that I've never done before

1)  Do a half Ironman.  Check.

Remember this?  It was awesome.  Find the recap here.

2)  Get my tattoo.  Fail.  I got a great recommendation for an artist but never followed through.  This will happen someday.  I have no excuse for not doing it other than lack of time commitment.  And that's a poor excuse.

3)  Take a cooking class.  Check.  Sierra, Erica and I had a fabulous evening at Hipcooks one evening before the holiday break learning how to cook and enjoy delicious Thai food.  

Look at me, cooking Thai food!

Then 2 evenings later, Sierra and I remade the fantastic meal (or at least the parts of it we really enjoyed). 

It tasted even better when we adjusted things to fit our own flavor palates.

 And since then I've incorporated some of the tips and flavoring techniques we learned into my bi-weekly peanut/soy sauce meal.  It has now morphed into a much tastier dish (not that it wasn't tasty before, but now it's even tastier) with the addition of lime, brown sugar, fish sauce, thai chilies, and garlic along with other ingredients that have incorporated their way into the meal in the last 2 years (rice vinegar, mirin, ginger, sriracha).  It's not quite the "quick and easy" one dish it used to be, but it's fabulous and still doesn't take very long.

4)  Volunteer at a women's and/or homeless shelter.  Check.  After seeing this item on my list, Coach Nadine contacted me and let me know that she had contacts with an emergency women's and children's shelter called Mary's Place in downtown Seattle.  Every Sunday at Mary's Place, a group of volunteers both cooks and serves dinner to the women and children at the shelter.  After recruiting Erica and Dorothy as well, we spent an afternoon cooking a taco bar at Nadine's house and then carted it downtown to serve at the shelter.  It was a great day.  So glad I put this one on the list.

Chop, chop, chop.

Nadine and Erica, chicken shredding extraordinaires! 

5)  Take a road trip somewhere new.  I was going to cheat and count the road trip home from Portland with my mom, Erica, and Ana for the Portland Half.  But after last weekend's slightly nerve-wracking drive up to Mt. Rainier to go snowshoeing, I don't have to cheat anymore.  Me, Erica, Ana, and Amber all piled into Ana's little car and drove 3+ hours to Mt. Rainier and back.  The driving trip included a stop to put on (and then take off) chains on Ana's tires--a first for almost all of us.  It also included my first Dairy Queen stop in years.

6)  Publish a short story to the blog.  Check.  I published one of the stories I wrote for my fiction writing class over the summer.  It was based on a prompt: "You're in a box on wheels going down a hill..."  I got a lot of good feedback on it from my classmates and professor, so figured it was safe for publishing.  In case you missed it, it's at the bottom of this post.

7)  Ride the Ducks in Seattle.  Check.  I roped my mom into playing tourist with me during the weeks she was here for the Portland half marathon.  It was fun.  I'd do it again.

We're on a duck!!

8)  Run the Golden Gardens Stairs.  Fail.  I don't really have an excuse for not doing this.  Although I have been injured for several months, so I could pull that card.  However, I am signed up to do the Big Climb as a part of Team Yanni to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society on Sunday, March 23rd.  During that race I will climb a whole lot more stairs than exist at Golden Gardens.  I'll be climbing the Columbia Tower in downtown Seattle, which includes 69 flights of stairs, 1311 steps, and 788 feet of vertical elevation.  So there's that.

***By the way, I'm hoping to raise $500 for LLS for this event, so if you'd like to donate to support me, Yanni, and the amazing organization that is LLS, please donate generously on my fundraising page.

9)  Do a mud run.  Fail.  There wasn't one that worked out time-wise.  I wanted to do LLS's Pineapple Classic, but it fell on the same morning as my first Team in Training practice for Spring Team.  And being a coach, I didn't really want to miss that.

10)  But a toaster.  Success!!  It may have taken me months from way back at the beginning of the summer when I massively burned my arm on the oven door and finally admitted to needing one, but it happened.  And not only did I get a toaster, I got a toaster oven.  If that doesn't make me a grown-up, I don't know what ever will.

I also got a crock pot and a wine rack.  And my mom took me shopping to
get them all when she was in town.  Darn, I think that takes away the
"being an adult" aspect of it all.  It's ok, I don't really want to grow up anyways.

11)  Take a dance class.  Super fail.  I chickened out.  No excuse.

12)  Get 8 hours of sleep every night for a week straight.  Impossible.  I don't know why I even thought I could do this.  Crazy.

13)  Get rid of horrible commute/be brave and start a new job.  Been there.  Done that.  Still setting into life as the new girl at school, but couldn't be happier that I made the change (as much as I miss all my LDFers).  Having a 15 minute commute can't be beat.

14)  Walk a dog at a dog shelter.  Check and check.  Coach Nadine hopped on board with helping me out with this one too.  I got connected with Seattle Animal Shelter and got approved for their Get Fit with Fido program.  This is not just a program where I walk dogs, but one where I will run with dogs.  Two of my absolute favorite things in the world: running and dogs.  I took the 2 required trainings (Shelter 101 and Safe Dog Handling) and am currently working my way through my 6 required shifts of dog walking before I can start running with the pups.  And I have yet to bring home a friend home for Lucy.

I think she's still perfectly happy as a spoiled only child.

15)  Make a delicious baked item.  Kind of check.  I got inspired to make chili in my new crockpot a few months ago.  And I can't have chili without cornbread.

It was delicious and it required baking.  It even brought
back some nostalgic childhood memories.

I had planned to do better than this, but it's all I've got and I'm counting it.  Although I have been saving frozen bananas for weeks now, hoping to get my hands on a good banana bread recipe.  Got any?  I'll make it when football season is over and I have my Sundays back.

16)  30 random acts of kindness.  Check.  I might be cheating a bit on this one too because I never deliberately performed 30 random acts of kindness.  However here's the thing: I'm a first grade teacher.  And I think that I can safely claim that I perform 30 random acts of kindness per day for my little ones.  Whether it's teaching them something new, reteaching something they didn't get yesterday, or zipping up a coat, they get to absorb every ounce of my heart, patience, and kindness between 8:30am and 2:55pm every day.  So I'm going to say that counts.

17)  Be a coach for TNT.  Did it and doing it.  And loving it.

Me and my white board are ready to go every Saturday
morning.  Stick people sketches and all.

18)  Go to the top of the Space Needle.  Check.  This was another part of dragging mom along for "pretend to be a tourist in Seattle" day.  Although mom really is a tourist here.  I just don't think she particularly enjoys doing touristy things.  Nonetheless, she smiled through our day of tourism.

The view from the top.  It really is a beautiful city I live in.

19)  Hike to Camp Muir with Yanni.  Yanni was a little bit busy ninja-fighting cancer and running marathons.  She's kind of awesome.  I hope we get to do this someday soon.

20)  Cook something new.  Check.  I bought a crock pot and cooked about 5 new recipes until it disappeared into the cupboard a month ago and I haven't seen it since.  I also cooked my delicious Thai dinner.  Yum.

21)  Make a list of 40 things to do before I'm 40.  Quarter-check.  I started the list, but it's actually kind of hard.  I currently have 10 items on my list.  Most of them are items from this list that weren't accomplished.  Others include: falling in love, starting a family, and becoming an Ironman.  I have a lot of work to do in the next 10 years.

22)  Run one more half marathon.  Double check.  I ran alongside my mom who sped-walked the Portland half marathon in October.  She walked so fast that I had to run to keep up.  

I realize I used this picture in last week's post.  But it's relevant again.  And
look how happy mom is.

Then I somehow made it slowly but surely through the Seattle half marathon on a bum knee.

I PR'd the last 2 years in this race.  It was not in the cards this year.

With those 2 added to my list, here is my race count as I turn 30:

5 marathons

11 half marathons

1 half Ironman

1 sprint triathlon

many other 5K-10Kish races

I can't say I'm ashamed of those numbers.

23)  Try a new sport.  Double check on this one too!  In November, I went on my first ever trail run to celebrate Coach Jeff's birthday (yes, trail running is a different sport from regular running).

8+ miles, a couple thousand feet of elevation.  A not-so-
healthy knee.  Maybe not my smartest choice.  But it was
lots of fun!

Then last weekend, I went showshoeing for the first time at Mt. Rainier (hence the road trip to Rainier mention in #5).

Ladies in snowshoes.  That was the most snow I've seen
all winter.

We drove 3+ hours to go snowshoeing for 2 hours and drive home for 3+ hours.  But it was a beautiful day and my first trip to Rainier.  All in all, totally worth it.

24)  Try a new cuisine.  Inadvertent fail.  I actually thought really hard about this one.  As I thought about planning a small birthday dinner for Thursday night, I looked up restaurants for cuisines that I haven't tried yet.  And to be honest, I couldn't really find any.  From Ethiopian to Korean to Scandinavian to Greek, there aren't a lot of options our there for me to try that I haven't already.  Maybe I didn't get creative enough, but I actually put effort into this one and came up empty.

25)  Watch a meteor shower.  Fail.  I totally forgot about this over break.  Oops.  It's going on the 40 things before 40 list.

26)  Volunteer for Make a Wish.  Another fail.  But also not for lack of trying.  I looked up information and volunteer applications on the Make a Wish website, but had to push this one to the side.  With the time commitment I'd already undertaken for volunteering at Seattle Animal Shelter and coaching for TNT (and the whole teaching thing), this just wasn't a commitment I could logistically make.  It'll go on the 40 things before 40 list too.

27)  Originally empty but later filled with: For 30 days, write down one thing each day that you are thankful for.  Check.  Here's my little red book as evidence:

I faithfully wrote in this little guy every night for 30 days.

A random snippet of things I was thankful for in the month of October: random unsolicited compliments with no expectations attached, cross-training, clean sheets, the Portland Saturday market, squeaky Lucy yawns, great friends, TNT, lazy Sundays, and perspective.

28)  Left empty until about 2 weeks ago, turned into: Go to a casino.  I spent my New Year's Eve at Snoqualmie Casino.  Most people find it unbelievable that until then I had never set foot in a casino.  I walked in the door with $40 and walked out with $190.  I also got to dance care-free a for couple hours, part of the time with a tall cute boy who made me feel pretty for just a little bit.  Not a bad way to start the year.

Every now and then it's fun to get dressed up, put on a pair of heels, and
feel pretty for a night.

29)  Also empty when the original post was written, but turned into: Rediscover why I love to run.  Check.  It may have taken a knee injury, a few weeks off from running, and then some weeks of forced reduced-distance and reduced-intensity running.  But finally, after what feels like a really long time, I come home from work most days and want to run.  I'm beginning to need to run again.  And in turn, I'm beginning to feel more like me again.  Funny how those two things go so closely hand in hand.

30)  Skydive!!  Sad fail.  After my original post, I only had a couple weeks of good Seattle weather to try to do this and it didn't work out.  Then the weather turned and won't be back up to par for skydiving again until the spring.  I am in no way giving up on this one.  It will happen.

So there it is.  I'm not really sure how I did.  I accomplished a lot of the important ones, but failed at a few items too.  And some I fudged in order to give myself a check.  I'd like to say I give myself an A for effort at least.  And many of the ones I missed, I still plan to do at some point.

So now the question that's left is: How do I feel about turning 30?  I could lie here and say "life is great!" and "I've done so much, who cares about turning 30!" but I'm not here to lie to you.  I thought that was how I would feel when I turned 30, but after a middle of the night semi-breakdown with my sister over the holidays, I do realize that this number is affecting me in the stereotypical way. 

So here's an honest answer:  I'm proud, excited, a little bit sad and a little bit scared.  I'm proud of everything I've done with my first 30 years of life.  I'm excited because I know that I have so much more living to do.  And I know that the best is yet to come.  But I'm a little bit sad because I feel like I'm leaving behind a part of my life that I won't get back.  And leaving things behind is always sad.  I'm also a little bit scared that maybe the best isn't yet to come.  That maybe I won't find want I'm looking for.  Maybe all this optimism won't pay off in the end.

But I don't think the way I feel is any different from any other birthday.  On birthdays we look at our life, where we've been, and where we might go.  And I think proud, excited, sad, and scared pretty much sums it all up.

Here's hoping the next 30 years bring everything I've dreamed of.  And if not, here's to hoping I'm happy with it anyways.