It Happens Like This Sometimes

Today started with a tiny feeling, just behind my sternum.  It was little, so I tried to go for a run and burn it away.  It stayed.  I got a headache instead and had to stop and then I forgot to eat breakfast.  It happens like this sometimes, this feeling.

On the drive to work, it got worse.  It started growing, but my chest cavity was shrinking and now there’s a too big thing in my too small space and I don’t know if it will rupture.  So I’m very afraid.  Tense.  I’m not looking at people and it hurts to smile and the tears have been burning my eyes for minutes now but I can’t blink them away because I have to hold very still.  If I’m still and small I can outlast it and it will go away and I can be regular again.  Regular Marley, who smiles and laughs and knows this will come again and smiles and laughs harder because you have to while you still can.

 

It’s very hard not to cry, but I won’t cry because there isn’t a reason to.  There’s no good reason other than the little bits and bobs in my brain decided to have a shit day and spill it all over me.  But the thing in my chest is still too big and I am still too small and it makes things hurt.  It makes me hurt.  I hurt, and that is not a pleasant way to spend a day.

So I will hold still and small and wait until it passes and I can be regular again.  I am sorry if I am still and small to you today, but it’s how I have learned to manage.  I do not want to be like this, but I haven’t found any help that has worked.  I mean, other than being still and small.  I do not like it this way.  The help is almost as bad as the hurt, but only almost.

So I will hold still and small and wait until it passes and hope it passes and I can be regular again. 

It happens like this, sometimes.

Colorado

When I first got in to the Denver airport a few weeks ago, I was running on less than 2 hours of sleep and a lot of caffeine.  In that state of energized delirium, I caught my first glimpse of the mountains and wrote the piece below.  It doesn't do any justice to the sight (or to my state).

Was leaving the airport on the bus and saw the mountains.  At first, I didn’t know what they were.  At a distance they were just a darker blue, the snow on top the clouds, so I thought they were sky.  But then I realized they were earth and the majesty of them hit me like a million waves, crashing over me with awe and joy and I teared up and almost started to cry, but instead I wrote this down.

The first wave was my guess at the technical definition.  Because I’m me, so of course it was.  A land formation so tall that the tops are always covered in snow.  And there it was, the air so cold that the water couldn’t stand it, so it froze up and went to meet the ground.

Then the beauty of it.  How they looked like the sky, but were the earth, and the blue turning to brown as we drove and saw them from different angles and got slightly closer, but they stayed distant, their sheer size allowing them to deny us even the sense of motion when in their presence.

Then the enormity of them.  Two enormities, really, if enormity is a word you can pluralize.  The first enormity, and the smaller of the two, is the insane physical presence of them.  Once I realized they were there, they stayed with me.  I tried to think of how big they are, how much earth how much rock how much snow, and my brain kind of fizzled out.  I haven’t seen something like that in a long time, and it really just serves as a reminder of the overall enormity of our planet, because these giant massive brain-fizzling things are just a tiny piece of the overall blue marble hanging in space. 

And then, brain still fizzling from how BIG they are, I slipped into thinking of how old they are.  That washed over me and left me still.  (Can you imagine me still?!)  They were built by the violence of the earth, crushing and gnawing at itself as its pieces ground together in the mindless, blind, apathetic frenzy of nature.  The earth clawed its way up and over its own bones to reach the sky, touching the clouds and claiming the air.  That was eons ago.  Days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millennia, they have all passed by and the mountains still stand.  They are the definition of weathering the storm. They were here before anything we knew began, and they’re still watching.  Like they’re waiting for something, and one day they’ll rise up and swat us down like gnats, for disturbing their sleep.

I’m running on two hours of sleep, a caramel macchiato, and the excitement of being on vacation for the first time in so long that I don’t really know what my last vacation was.  I’ve been on the ground in Colorado for less than two hours, most of that has been spent in a plane and on a bus.  I’m gross and travel-weary and I can feel the exhaustion in my eyes, trying to burn its way through the caffeine.  And I kinda never want to leave.

Race Recap - New Moon Half Marathon

**If you're looking for a quick summary, check out the tl;dr at the end of the post.  Otherwise, read on!**

Saturday, May 27, 2017
Delaware, Ohio
Overall grade:  B-

I registered for this half marathon on December 2, 2016.  At the time, it sounded like an amazing deal.  It was on sale, after all.  I got half off the earliest registration fee, so I wound up paying around $35 for a fully supported half marathon.  This included a t-shirt, a finisher's medal, and refreshments after the race.  When I signed up, there was one big piece of information that I overlooked.  The race started at 6:00pm.  My bedtime is normally around 10:00pm, which was when I figured I'd be driving home after the event.  It was a bit of a shock, but totally my fault.  While it caused me some concern, it was absolutely no fault of the race or its organizers.

By the time I arrived at the start area, I was already tired, but packet pick-up was super easy, with almost no line, and I was left with about 45 minutes to waste before race start.  I drank some water, hung out with friends, and then lined up in the start corrals.  The corrals were a bit odd.  Corral A was the entirety of the 5k field.  Behind them, in order of estimated finish time, were the Half and Quarter Marathoners.  The field for this race was small, I'd say no more than a few hundred people.  Even with the corrals starting in waves, we crossed the start line in about 5-10 minutes.

I will say here that I am a slow runner.  On a good day, I'll average 12min/mile.  This was not a good day.  It was late, hot, muggy, and there were hills.  Ugh.  Plus, most of the folks I knew who were running at my pace were doing the quarter marathon, so I was a bit worried.  Fortunately, my concerns were unfounded.  Not only did I find a running buddy my pace who was doing the half, but the course support was flat-out awesome.  Folks weren't lining the streets, but I will say that coming up on three hours into my race, there were still folks sitting out on their porches with hoses (in case anyone wanted to get misted), handing out pretzels and other candy, and cheering us on.  The aid stations were well stocked with water and TWO FLAVORS of Gatorade.  Usually you just get yellow Gatorade, which I really cannot stand.  But here, you could get yellow or blue.  I adore blue Gatorade!  This was a pleasant surprise throughout the course.

As a slower runner, I'm very used to empty streets and things being shut down on me.  But having folks out on the course the entire time, never losing their smile and cheering the whole way, was a huge plus factor for this race.  I was really truly enjoying it.  Then I got to the finish.

The description for the race indicated that finishers would receive a finisher's medal and a New Moon mug.  I either don't take, toss, or give away my race medals, so I was particularly excited about the mug.  And when I say mug, let's be clear that I was picturing the kind of ceramic thing with a handle that I can use to drink my morning tea.  What I got was not a mug, but a cheap-y plastic cup that was obviously designed simply to hold the free beer we received at the finish.  That was my first disappointment.

I will say that the medal, although not specific to the half-marathon, is very nice.  It is also a bottle opener, so if you drink anything that comes out of bottles without twist-off caps (this is not a thing I do), then it is also functional.  So, although it is cute, it is not a helpful tool for me.

After getting my medal and "mug", I went to grab some food.  Here was my second, and probably biggest, disappointment.  They had burgers, which were mediocre but tasted amazing since I'd just run a half, pretzels, and chips, which were great since I needed the salt.  They were out of the following items:
- cheese for the burgers
- chocolate milk
- cookies
- yogurt (some brand was giving away cases of organic whole milk yogurt, just not when I got there)
- Gatorade (they were out of both the yellow AND blue varieties)

I would note that the course has a 3.5 hour limit.  I finished under that by about 20 minutes, and yet it felt like the party had wound down ages ago.  While I am used to things closing on me (like finish line parties), it doesn't make it any less crummy when it happens.  It was a real bummer that things were just gone by the time I got done and I wasn't even at the course limit!  One other thing about the finish line area that really bugged me was that there were no bottles of water.  If you wanted a drink, you filled your cup.  But for folks like me, who had a drive of 20-30 minutes to get home, it would have been nice to take something for the road.  The only portable food item was some small pretzels, which were almost impossible to swallow without some water.

Speaking of things that were missing, there are a couple other things that I wasn't able to get.  The first is a race shirt that fits me.  The shirts were sized SUPER small, so my large is like a second skin.  I'm not a slender person, but I don't think I need an extra-large just to have some room between my lungs and my t-shirt.  We were supposed to be able to exchange at the finish line, but larger shirts were just another thing they were out of by the time I finished.

The last thing that is missing is my results.  I just checked the page, and the results say I finished in 1:29:23.3.  At best, that's a joke.  In fact, when I went to check it again right now, the results for the half had been taken down (Quarter and 5K are still up), so maybe they're fixing it?  Either way, it's over 24 hours since the race and results are just another thing I don't have.

tl;dr -
If you're interested in a moderately challenging course on paved streets with lovely views, this is a great race.  The evening start can be rough for folks, like me, who are morning runners, but they try to make up for it with an after party.  If a large part of the reason you race is for the swag/party, then this race is NOT for slower runners.  Given how many things were flat out gone by the time I finished, I felt pretty certain that the organizers and vendors either didn't care about me, or figured I wouldn't make it.  It was an incredibly disappointing way to finish what was otherwise a grade-A race.

Have you run New Moon?  What did you think?  Leave a comment and let me know your thoughts!  Until next time, friends!

Gorsuch and SCOTUS - Take Two

I've been thinking a lot about Gorsuch since my first post on the issue.  In that time, my views have somewhat changed.  And by "somewhat", I mean "very radically".

My initial opinion of Gorsuch and his nomination rested on the assumption that our system of government is still, in principle, hearty and hale.  It may not be perfect, but it functions well enough that we can continue to work within it and maintain or increase the progress we have made towards true equity in our society.  However, since Gorsuch's nomination, the world has continued to turn.  Nominations have been made and confirmed.  I have watched the system begin its slow regression toward a time of open hostility towards any folk considered different, other, not from around here.

In short, I now see the first tiny flames licking at the base of our democracy.  And I am no longer inclined to fight them.  This may be a transitionary phase, a mere vehicle for getting me from my initial post to some final conclusion on the state of our country that is less filled with flame and more buoyed by hope.  But in the meantime, my stance is now decidedly one of destruction.

"When they go low, we go high."  I've tried to use that as my rallying cry, but I just can't do it any longer.  The satisfaction of holding the moral high ground doesn't help when all you can do is watch the world burn from your rosy vantage point.  While I try to be happy with holding to the morals of modern democracy - morals of civility, calm, and equity - I watch as those same morals are trampled into dust by people who don't give a flying fuck about any of that shit.  Civility?  Why bother when it serves as nothing more than a soundbite?  Calm?  Nobody watches the news if things aren't burning down.  Equity?  Not if it means giving up the opportunity for folks already in the catbird seat to get just a little bit more.

This is the atmosphere in which I shout about kindness, and evenhandedness.  But nobody hears, or if they do they just don't care.  What does this have to do with Gorsuch?  My initial position on his nomination was that we should go back to the way things were.  We should treat him like any other nominee.  We shouldn't be the harm that we raged against in the system.  But where has that gotten us?  It has gotten us on the bottom of a very rotten pile, and digging ourselves out is not guaranteed.

Filibuster Gorsuch.  Refuse to meet with him.  Stall the vote in every way possible.  When he does come up for a vote, hold a sit-in.  Vote no and publicly comment on the crap that was done to make him the nominee.  Will it actually get us anything?  Probably not.  But why bother maintaining the illusion of democracy when there's nothing behind it?

The system has failed.  It may be broken, irreparably so.  How do we fix it?  Not sure.  I'm not there yet.  But in the meantime, I'm happy to watch it burn.

Gorsuch and SCOTUS

I typed this out on Facebook this morning, but wanted to present and preserve it in another medium that is more easily accessible after the fact.  Last night, a second candidate was nominated to fill the vacancy on the Supreme Court of the United States created when Justice Antonin Scalia died.  Here are my thoughts on that nomination.

I feel so very, very torn about this. On the one hand, Gorsuch is qualified for the position. He is, in terms of his view on legal interpretation, a good choice as a successor to Scalia. Given some of the other nominations that have come from the fledgling Presidential administration, this is a surprisingly good one. Do I agree with Gorsuch on his interpretations of things? Not all of them. Not by a long shot. But is he qualified? Yes. Without a doubt, he is qualified. Would he do a good job? I haven't looked into him too much, but what I've seen has shown me that yes, I think he would work well as a Justice. Do I want him to be appointed? There's the sticky part. It should have been Garland going through this process. Scalia's vacancy should be well on its way to filled by now. Instead, vicious obstructionist party tactics kept it open, despite a lawful nomination by a duly elected sitting president. So do I want him nominated? No. No, I don't. But it's for petty reasons. I can't have what I really want (Garland), so I'm inclined to deny the option that has been presented.

But where does that lead us? Can we then only fill a SCOTUS vacancy when there are enough similarly-affiliated folks to shove through a confirmation along party lines? Do we explicitly politicize the Court? There was always a political aspect to the process of nominating and approving a Justice, but not like this. Not a complete denial to even speak with the nominee. But what good does it do to respond to stupidity and disruption with more stupidity and disruption? Where will it end?

Do I like Gorsuch as a nominee? No. Will I like the types of decisions and interpretations he will make? Likely not. So what should we do?

Grill the ever-loving crap out of him during the confirmation. Make him give as many commitments as you can wring from a lawyer that he will follow and uphold the rule of law. I haven't seen anything that says he won't, but make him promise to do it. Then make him promise again. Make him do it publicly and repeatedly and then hold his feet to that damn fire for the rest of his life (or until he retires).

If he's confirmed, I'm going to deal with him as a Justice the same way I dealt with Scalia - viscerally disagreeing with the foundations and conclusions of a lot of his work, but nevertheless in awe of the artistry he uses to get from A to B. But I don't know that I'll ever get over what could have been, and what I see as the theft of a proper nomination in the name of violent partisanship.

McKenna Rayne

On June 4th, just 11 days ago, I got news that I had been matched to a beautiful little girl named McKenna Rayne. I was to be her Runner through I Run 4, dedicating my runs and workouts to McKenna, who would never be able to run on her own. Nine days after I was matched with her, McKenna passed away.

When she was born, her parents were told that she might not live to see her first birthday, but McKenna was a fighter and her parents fought with her every step of the way. McKenna was 14 months old when she died. She would have been 15 months old this coming Saturday, June 18th. McKenna knew nothing but love during her life, and I don't know many people who can say that.

Recently, I spoke with McKenna's mom, and offered to continue to be McKenna's Runner. I only got to be her Runner for 9 days while she was alive, but being McKenna's runner is not a commitment that ends with her last breath. Tonight, I went on my first run in McKenna's memory.

If you know me, you know that I'm not a very religious person. Spiritual, yes. Religious, no. But I swear on everything I have ever believed that tonight I had an angel with me on my run. Maybe that feeling on my run tonight was a trick of my mind. Maybe it was a buildup of lactic acid, or the stress of running fast enough to break into the anaerobic stage of a workout. Yeah. Maybe. I think it was McKenna. I was tired, but my feet got faster. The leaves weren't moving, but I swear there was a breeze behind me. I never got to meet McKenna in real life, but I think I met her in spirit tonight.

It's fitting that, upon getting her angel wings, McKenna would visit her Runner during a run. Not because I'm particularly important, and not because we had a bond that was more special than the bond she had with anyone else who loved her. It's because McKenna knew nothing but love, and so she had and has nothing but love to give. As soon as she got wings, once she had a strength of body that she was denied in this life, the first thing she did with it was to come and give me strength, to help me during my run.

I ran 3.5 miles for you, McKenna. But really I ran them with you. You were there, and I am so honored that you visited with me. I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to know you better when you were here, but my miles will continue to be dedicated to your memory.

We say that everyone's life has a purpose, and sometimes it might be hard to see how a person as small and young as you could have a chance to fulfill their purpose. But you did everything you ever wanted to do in this life, McKenna. You brought love to this world, love and light. And all of us, even in our deepest sadness at your passing, are brighter and more filled with love for having known you.

We miss you, McKenna Rayne, and we will love you always.

I Only Cried A Little

This morning, I volunteered at a 10K race here in Columbus.  My job was to set up and work at an aid station, which is a pretty simple thing.

If you've never run a race before, an aid station is a spot where some tables get set up and covered in disposable cups filled with water.  People stand around in front of the tables and hand out water to the folks in the race.  On a basic level, the job is that of a very stationary waiter.

Today started out in a disappointing way.  When I showed up, the tables, water, and other supplies weren't even delivered yet.  The person officially in charge of the aid station hadn't been given any additional information beyond what the rest of us volunteers had.  We weren't even sure if we were in the right place until the guys in charge of the race showed up 20-30 minutes late to drop off our aid station supplies.

Not a great start to an experience, particularly when you're someone who likes to have things organized and running efficiently.  You know, like a crazy type A lawyer nutjob sort of person.  Like me.

But we get everything set up and eventually the folks in the race start coming through.  The first few people are going so fast I couldn't tell you what they looked like.  Five minute miles will get you through an aid station in less than 5 seconds.  I sure can't run that fast, but the folks I saw putting out that kind of speed were there and gone in a flash.

As the pace of the racer got slower, their smiles seem to get bigger.  They just had more of an opportunity to interact with us, and everyone at my aid station was going above and beyond to make sure the runners got a great morale boost going into the last mile of the race.  We were cheering.  We were dancing.  We were hollering so loud one guy said he could hear us from at least half a mile away.  More than one person told me we were the best aid station in the whole race.  I want to say, "Of course we are!  This is MRTT and we know how to do happy running!!" Instead, I tell him we're just doing our job, and that he should take a cup of water from me because mine are the best.

The last group of people I saw come through was a family, and in particular I noticed a young woman walking with the group.  Her gait was awkward, and her head was turned partly to the side, as though she were continually interested in something just to the left of the race course.  I noted it, but didn't in any way alter my normal routine of hollering encouragement from about a quarter of a mile away, and dancing and cheering the group through the aid station.  Oh, right, and giving them water.

When they were mostly through the aid station, a woman in the group who was maybe in her late thirties or early forties slipped back to thank me and a couple of other folks for what we had done.  As she was talking, she gestured to the young woman.  The one who was maybe in her early teens.  The one who I had pegged as probably somewhere in high school, most likely her first or second year.

"Thank you so much.  You don't know how much it means to her.  She's a brain cancer survivor and this was her Wish."

It was me and two other moms that heard those words.  None of us could talk well enough after that to say anything.

I only cried a little.

Running For Good: Part 2

There are probably plenty of folks out there who go their entire running lives without entering a race.  The idea of running five or more kilometers surrounded by hundreds or even thousands of strangers can be intimidating, annoying, or even boring.

I am not one of those people.  I adore races!  I don't really race them, mind you.  I just go at my regular old pace, but surrounded by the energy of a likeminded crowd of people.  Not to mention you get a shirt, and a medal, and food, and maybe even some cool freebies at the expo.  It's like everything I want all in one place!

But then a few months go by, and that new medal is just getting lost in the pile I have in the corner of the bookcase.  I could get one of those cool medal holders to display all of my race bling, but I have a better way to deal with those medals.

Enter Medals4Mettle (M4M).  They will happily take those old medals you have and use them to do something fantastic.  All of the donated medals are given a new M4M ribbon and then sent out to a worldwide network of physicians and volunteers.  Here's the best part.  Those physicians and volunteers gift the medals to children and adults fighting debilitating illnesses.  The recipients of M4M medals may not be able to run a race, but their efforts in fighting their disease, in struggling every day for the chance to live their life, are recognized through the gift of a marathon medal.

M4M accepts medals that were earned from a half-marathon or longer running event, or triathlon event.  You can look up your local Chapter on their website so you know where to send your medals.  They also have mailing instructions and an online fillable Donation Form handily accessible from their website.  Check out their donation page for all the information you'll need to send in your medals!

http://www.medals4mettle.org/donate.html

If you've ever seen my facebook page, you may recognize the photo above.  A very similar image is often my cover photo.  It's the picture I took of all my race medals before donating them to M4M.  I had a blast earning each and every one of those medals.  The sense of pride I got upon donating those medals was even better.

I hope that you'll pick a medal or two to send in to M4M and help recognize that "someone is in a tougher race than you right now."

Say Yes to Donating the Dress

Next week will bring the second installment in the Running For Good series.  For now, I wanted to talk about a donation I recently made.

This is my wedding dress.  It is lovely.  I wore it on the day that I married the best man I have ever known.  Since that day, it has hung in a bag in my closet.  I have moved twice since I was married, and both times I put that dress in the trunk of the car, not trusting it to a suitcase in the giant moving trucks we used.

I looked amazing in that dress.

Now, someone else will get a chance to look amazing in that dress.  I have donated it to Adorned in Grace.  They are a non-profit based in Portland, Oregon.  They take donated wedding dresses and resell them, then use all the profits to help victims of sexual trafficking move on with their lives.  You can read more about them on their website, including how to donate your own wedding dress if you so choose:

http://www.adornedingrace.org/

I even found a local cleaner here in Columbus who, in exchange for me paying the cost of shipping the dress to Adorned in Grace, will clean the dress for free and handle the packaging and shipment.  The owner of the dry cleaners, Margaret, personally took my phone call about the free cleaning and met me at the cleaners when I went to drop off my dress.

I hope that the person who buys my dress has as happy an ever after as I have.  I hope that the person who is helped by the profits from selling my dress has as happy an ever after as I have.  I adored my wedding dress, but I love what I can do by donating it.

Running For Good: Part 1

People run for a lot of reasons.  It can function as cheap(ish) therapy.  It's great exercise.  It's a way to get out and meet people when you're in a new place.  But it's also a mechanism by which you can do a lot of good in the world.  This is the first in a series of posts all about how to change the world - for the better - by lacing up your shoes and going for a run.  

Part 1 - Charity Miles

Charity Miles is an app, for both iPhone and Android, that lets you turn the miles you run/walk/bike into monetary donations to a charity of your choice.  There are a few limitations - namely, the charity of your choice has to come from their list of charity partners.  But, with that limitation noted, the rest is all up to you.  Large corporations will sponsor Charity Miles, like Chobani recently did, and give them a bunch of money.  Those funds are held in a big floating donation cloud (finance isn't my strong suit), waiting for someone to open the Charity Miles app and go for a run.  You choose your charity, choose whether you'll be running indoors or out, and then get your run on.  If you're competitive, or a fan of group participation, you can form a team and see how many miles you and your friends can run for charity.  

If you're having trouble choosing a charity, then you can pick a different one each time you go out.  Clicking on a charity gives you the option to immediately run for them, or to click their name again and read a short description of what they do.  I have all the charity partners listed at the end of this post, so you can give the list a quick perusal.  

Are you interested, but not really into cardio?  Even if you don't walk, run, or bike for charity, you can still donate!  The minimum distance to qualify for a donation is one tenth of a mile - 0.1 miles is all you need!  Use the app while you walk to work.  Park at the far end of the parking lot and use the app while you stroll from your car into your apartment, or the grocery store, or the bookshop.  If you logged one tenth of a mile every day, just walking to and from your house, you would give a bit over $9.00 to charity in a year. Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot to you, but imagine if everyone reading this post did that.  Those donations would add up fast!  

Breaking down those donation amounts for you, here's how it adds up:  For each mile you walk or run, $0.25 will be donated to your charity.  If you're into pedaling, $0.10 will be donated for every mile you bike.  And that's it.  You pay nothing.  Your charity gets money.  You get fit.  Everyone wins!!  Plus, Charity Miles does a ton of giveaways.  Sign up for their email list to be notified when new giveaways are happening, and you could win a sweet hoodie like mine!  

That's me trying to fake like I'm running in my kitchen.  But I look amazing in my new Pace On Earth hoodie, even with the ridiculous pose.  

So get the app and get out there!  Which charity will you choose?

Charity Miles charities:

- American Diabetes Association

- Habitat for Humanity 

- Stand Up To Cancer

- Operation Smile

- The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society

- Alzheimer's Association

- Girl up

- Save The Children

- Feeding America

- Charity: Water

- Shot@LIfe

- World Wildlife Fund

- The Michael J. Fox Foundation

- Wounded Warrior Project

- ASPCA

- (RED)

- St. Jude Children's Research Hospital

- Autism Speaks

- Every Mother Counts

- Team Red, White & Blue

- Girls On The Run

- DoSomething.Org

- The Nature Conservancy

- Pencils of Promise

- The World Food Programme

- Special Olympics

- National Park Foundation

- Crohn's & Colitis Foundation of America

- Team For Kids

- She's The First

- Soles4Souls

- Nothing But Nets

- Back On My Feet

- The Partnership For A Healthier America

- Achilles International

- The Ironman Foundation

- Vision Spring

Perspective

It's been a while, friends.  So I thought I would start back up with a bang.

As I type this, I am comfortably in my thirties, unemployed somewhat by my own choice, and the mother of a tiny child.  I spend my days managing someone else's poop and dreaming of a weekend all to myself the way I used to dream about dates with Brent Spiner or winning a copy of the Gutenberg Bible.

It is in these utterly normal circumstances that I have come to realize how totally fucking awesome I am.  Particularly, I have finally come, more or less, to really and truly appreciate my body.  For much of my life, I have hated my body.  My skin was never clear enough.  I weighed too much.  The size of my clothes was too big.  It all seemed to matter so much and none of it was ever good enough.

And that's how I thought when I weighed about thirty pounds less than I do now, and was a delectably young twenty-something.

To be fair to my younger self, the world works very very hard to make you think those things are important.  It's understandable that I would have been taken in, and that being unacceptable by advertising standards would have gotten to me.

I'm not exactly sure when I got over that, or at least got mostly over that.  Maybe it was the time Theo peed so much while napping in my lap that he wet through my pants, too.  When I went to change, I found that the pants I was wearing, which I had barely fit into after giving birth, could be taken off without undoing the zipper or buttons.  Maybe it was the first time I wore my running tights instead of pants, with a delightful tunic length sweater and a pretty scarf, and realized I was totally rocking it.  Or maybe, after having pushed a living breathing human being out of my body without pain medication and solely through my own brute strength, I just finally realized that the delightful flesh machine I call my body is pimp as hell.

Whatever.  The point is that I now wear leggings.  With t-shirts.  And I know I look good.  I know that, as I walk down the street in those oh so clingy and oh so insanely comfortable leggings, at least one person that sees me will wish they could look as confident and comfortable and totally awesome in my outfit as I do.  I used to be that person, the one wishing they could look like that.  I really wish I could go back and tell past me, shake past me until she believes, that she already looks like that.

I'll just have to know it for her.  In my god damn awesome hunter green leggings.

My Problem With Taking Down The Flag

Just to prevent an immediate negative reaction:  I want the confederate flag to come down in South Carolina.  I want it to come down from everywhere that is not a museum.  Now, on to my problem with removing it.

For weeks the media have been consumed with this debate over whether the confederate flag should be removed from the capitol building in South Carolina.  We've heard politicians, pastors, and passersby tell us their feelings about the flag.  It's been called a symbol of southern heritage.  It's been called a symbol of hatred and oppression.  (I would note that those two are not mutually exclusive.)

All of a sudden, we are consumed with this other version of the red, white, and blue.  Even the name of it has changed.  It's no longer just the confederate flag.  Now it's the confederate battle flag.  Maybe they're hoping that by naming it for a specific purpose, instead of making it all-confederacy-inclusive, it will somehow become more acceptable?

Anyway, it's been a large part of our national discussion.  And that's where my problem starts.  The flag has started a discussion.  It's the wrong discussion, to be sure, but it's something.  We've been talking about it on TV, online, and in person.  It has sparked conversations, whether they be genuine debates or folks on one the same side commiserating over why their point of view is not universally accepted.

When the flag comes down, the conversations will end.  We won't talk about it anymore, and that's a real problem.  Because this was a point when we could have turned the conversation to what really matters - the multiple and ongoing legacies of hatred and oppression that mar and make up the history of the United States.

The conversation about the flag was never really about the flag.  The flag was the thing we could talk about instead of talking about race.  Make no mistake, the United States has a racism problem.  The United States also has homophobia, sexism, classism, and any other number of ism problems (the writer in me doesn't like that homophobia doesn't end in -ism.  See?  It's even a literary problem).  The United States is all about isms.

The conversations we need to have about those issues are scary.  They're downright terrifying.  Because talking about the United States means talking about us.  It's talking about you and me.  We are the United States.  A country is nothing but paper and ink without its citizens.  The U.S. is us.  That means the history of the United States is the history of you and me.  And then comes the conclusion that we don't want to say: I have a history of racism, sexism, homophobia, classism, and any other number of isms.  Even with as progressive and egalitarian as I try to be, I know that there are still ideas and preconceptions that I have, some unconsciously and some not, that are based on those ongoing legacies of hatred and oppression.

The first step to solving a problem is admitting that you have it.  As an individual, I can and do admit that I have these problems.  As a country, we are still far too willing to look the other way and pretend it's not an issue.

So while I'm glad the flag is coming down, I'm also very disappointed that the conversation will be over before it began.

My Impossible Body

Having a baby messes with your body.  This much is obvious.  Or, at least, I thought that was an obvious thing.  But here is a rather unfortunate story in which I impute expertise to a person who really does not have any.

When I was about 8 months pregnant, right before we left Champaign, I went to the local Victoria's Secret store to be measured for my bra size.  It had become apparent to me that the items I had no longer fit me, but I was totally clueless as to what size I should be wearing.  I thought that the employees at a store that sells bras would be able to help me with my quandry.

I arrived, unfortunately, during their semi-annual sale.  So the store was absolutely swamped with people.  I headed straight for the fitting rooms and let them know I was just there to be measured.  I did not need a fitting room, I really just wanted to know my size.  So they had a lady measure me.  For those who are unfamiliar with this process, it does not involve the removal of any clothing, just a couple of passes with a tape measure.

I was measured in the middle of the dressing area, outside the dressing rooms but not on the store floor.  That's fine.  I have no problem with that.  My measurements resulted in the salesperson measuring me announcing that I needed a 40D.  While I would have preferred for her not to announce that out loud in a volume that everyone could hear, I wasn't super bothered by it.  It's my size, and the volume of her voice won't affect the measurement.

What did bother me is that she followed up the announcement of my size with, "Is that even possible?"

Given that she had just done the measurements herself, and that I was in fact a real-life person and not some sort of weird apparition, yes.  That is even possible.  To indicate otherwise means you either don't know how to do your job, or have done it very poorly.  That's not even touching on how rude that statement is.

"Is that even possible?"  Did you seriously just ask that question?  Out loud?  At such a volume and in such a tone that people waiting in line turned to gawk?

Yes, my body is possible.  I am a human being.  We tend to come in a variety of shapes, sizes, colors, and dispositions.  Which should be common knowledge to anyone who has ever interacted with more than one other human being.  To assert, or even to imply, otherwise is to wave a giant banner indicating that you have some deep and serious misunderstandings about the species of which you claim to be a part.

I didn't say anything to that poor salesperson that day.  Really, what could I have said?  Any comments I could have made would have been for my benefit, to make me feel better.  There's nothing that I could have done, at least not in the time allotted before the store closed, to really educate her on all the issues with her statement.  So I left.  I haven't been back since.

Silver lining?  I now feel absolutely no interest whatsoever in shopping at Victoria's Secret, which I'm sure will save me money in the long run.  Target lingerie section for the win!

Take care, friends, and I'll write again soon.

Bikini Feminism

Last night the Pumpkin and I attended our first "Parent and Me" swim lesson.  I had a blast and Theo did not freak out, which is about what I was hoping for from his first time in a big swimming pool with lots of strangers around.  He even seemed to be enjoying himself by the end of the night, once he'd gotten used to things a bit.

So what does any of that have to do with feminism?  It's in the details, I guess.  Theo was wearing a new swim diaper with super cute swim trunks that we bought just for the lessons.  The trunks weren't really necessary, but I couldn't resist buying them when I saw them in our local Once Upon A Child (second hand kid's clothing store).  I was wearing an old racing swimsuit, as it was the only one that adequately covered by bust and butt.  It was two pieces, and so of course I was completely freaking out about it.  It showed off my pudge, my stretch marks, and my unshaven legs with aplomb.  But it was either that, or I wore one of my other two swimsuits, both of which are noticeably too small in quite inconvenient places.

Why is that feminist?  Because after my initial freakout, I felt pretty powerful.  I was breaking pretty much every rule of stereotypical feminine beauty, but I'll be damned if I wasn't totally rocking that damn suit.  The only downside is that it was designed with triathlons in mind, so it's padded in the butt.  Which is great when you're transitioning from swim to bike.  It's not so great when you're just hanging out in the shallow end of a pool with a baby.

Given that I still have quite a few pounds left to lose before I get into a healthy weight range, it felt pretty good to be able to forget about that and have fun in the water with the tiny human.  Am I going to change the world by wearing a two piece swimsuit? Yes.  Yes I am.  I've already changed my world.

Take care, friends, and I'll write again soon.

Just Drifting Along

Sometimes, I'm a bit slow on the uptake.  For example, it took me until today to realize why failing the Texas bar exam may actually have been a Very Good Thing.  To whit:  It has forced me to stop and take a serious look at what the heck I want to do with my life.

I touched on this a bit the last time I wrote, which I know is now quite some time ago.  But I've been really digging into it lately.  When one spends all day having one-sided conversations with a 7-month old, one tends to get a bit introspective.  I feel very much like I'm tired of just drifting along.  I want some kind of purpose, or at least a list of goals.  I want something to work towards; I just needed to figure out what that would be.

To be fair, just drifting along has been very very good to me.  It has landed me the perfect husband, the world's most amazing baby, and three cats that don't always misbehave.  I've traveled outside the U.S., run multiple marathons, saved Illinois high school mock trial, and done no small amount of good in the world.  But currently, I've been feeling a bit... aimless.

Had I passed the bar exam, I probably would have just taken the first attorney gig that came my way.  I would have done an acceptable job, but nothing to write home about.  Unless I am really excited about something, I usually won't care enough to really invest myself in it.  Then, I would have given it up without any sorrow when we moved away from this town and started the whole process over again, without ever really thinking about what I really want to do.

So what do I want to do?  I want someone to pay me to do mock trial.  Maybe I get a job teaching at some college and they pay me to coach their mock trial team.  Maybe I get a job as the Director of Advocacy at some law school and I run their Trial Ad programs.  Maybe I get a job running a state's high school mock trial program.  Maybe I get a job running a national moot court competition.

I would jump at the chance to do any of those things.  And I would be really freaking good at any of those things.  Being away from mock trial has taught me that I need mock trial in my life.  And teaching LSAT classes has reminded me of how much I adore teaching.  I mean, seriously, the above list pretty much outlines my dream jobs.

Thus I have accomplished Step One in the Process of Realizing Your Dreams:  Identify your dreams and write them down.  It sounds much less inspirational when you get all business-like with it, but it does help the transition to reality proceed a bit more apace.

Now I just have to go about figuring out what Step Two is.  If anyone has any tips, I would be more than happy to hear them...

Until next time, my friends.  Take care, and I'll write again soon.

An Inglorious Return To Running

I have been waiting to get back into running basically since I finished giving birth.  I don't know why it's taken me so long, but I have recently done the first two runs in a 5k training program.  It is an immersive zombie adventure 5k training program, so it's a double bonus win!  However, running after having a baby is in many ways a completely different activity from running before having a baby.  As such, I have taken some of my major insights and listed them out.

1.  All my sports bras are woefully inadequate
This tops the list as it's both one of the first changes I noticed and one of the most drastic changes.  "Pump or nurse before you run," they said.  "It'll be fine," they said.  THEY LIED.  There was way too much motion and so far nothing seems to contain it. Seriously, how do busty women deal with this?  I'm not even that busty, even with mom boobs, and I still am having trouble dealing.  Plus, sports bras are expensive so getting new ones is going to be a financial pain.  Seriously.  This is not cool.

2.  Jogging strollers are awesome
My mother, despite any flaws she may have, is the most amazing person in the world for buying us a totally pimp jogging stroller.  It may be the greatest baby accessory ever.  It takes curbs like a beast and rolls smoothly even through the more deeply graveled parts of the jogging path I've been using.  It is seriously amazing how much of a difference it makes in running with a baby to have the right stroller.

3.  Running with a jogging stroller, no matter how pimp it is, is really hard
You're pushing a good 50-60 extra pounds in front of you with every step you take.  Granted, those pounds are on well-oiled rugged wheels designed for beach/trail/whatever.  But still, that is a lot of extra weight.  Besides the stroller itself, you have the baby and all their gear, plus any water and/or carbs you may want to have.  On the plus side, if I ever get the chance to run without the baby, it is going to be a breeze!

4.  You suddenly have to pack before you run
Before, I would put my keys and phone in a pocket and head out the door.  If it was a long run, I'd bring some water and a few chewy electrolyte calorie replacer thingies.  Now, there's a whole diaper bag involved.  Not to mention dressing the tiny human properly and incorporating sunscreen (for both of us!) and making sure you have enough toys that can be secured to the stroller and also amuse him for about 40 minutes of not having face-to-face Mommy Time.  It. Is. A. Lot.

5.  Running is no longer a luxury
It sounds counterintuitive, but it's true.  This is the time when, more than ever, I need some sort of physical exercise.  It helps drop the baby weight; it's an amazing stress release; it gets me out of the house; it allows me to set goals that are for me (and only me and have nothing to do with the baby).

Speaking of goals, I have a new running goal.  I want to run an ultramarathon.  That sounds really impressive, but it's really just any race longer than marathon distance (26.2 miles).  So a 50k (about 31 miles) counts.  However, being the nutter that I am, I would really like to do a 50 mile race.  I've been looking into the training and trying to find a good goal race, so we'll see how this shapes up.  But it's something I've wanted to do for a while, and I figure it's a good way to motivate me to really dig in now that I'm back in the game.

Then again, if the Pumpkin continues to insist on letting me get only 3-4 hours of sleep each night, this may not happen any time soon.

*sigh*

Take care, friends, and I'll write again soon!

Yup, Failed the Bar Exam. And?

On Wednesday I got my results from the Bar Exam.  I did not pass.  I needed a scaled score of 675 to pass, and I got 667.  So close, which kind of makes it suck even more.  Sadly, I was sort of expecting that result.  It was not the fault of my bar study program, or any lack of desire on my part to pass.  It was more the fact that I was trying to study while dealing with a full-time job, and a baby who decided not to sleep through the night, and also still doing all my every-people stuff, like getting groceries and cooking dinner and doing laundry and every once in a while thinking about cleaning some part of my house.

At the end of the day, for what may be the first time ever, I had simply bitten off more than I could chew.  That was a new thing for me.  And, of course, it now leads me to the question of what I should do next.  By which I mean, do I retake the Bar Exam?

I've actually been thinking about it far more than I thought I would.  Mostly because of a conversation I had with Paul a week or so ago.  He asked me, in a throw-away question kind of way, how long I wanted to be a stay at home mom.  It wasn't a conversation of any particular depth, just one of many rushed moments when we could talk to each other without the baby awake.  Neither of us appreciates those enough or works hard enough at cultivating them.  I didn't think too much of the question right then and there.

Maybe an hour later, though, I thought of it again.  Since then it's been rattling around in my head and I can't get it out.  Because I don't know the answer.  Trying to figure out how long I want to be a stay at home mom is like asking me to write out a detailed plan for "What I Want To Do With The Rest Of My Life", in 5 pages or less.  Single spaced, with size 12 Times New Roman font.  It's kind of an impossible question to answer, but here I am with my brain all abuzz trying to do just that.

Before I can even start on an answer to the question that was actually asked, there are several equally difficult preliminary questions that must be answered.  How many kids do we want to have?  What kind of career am I really interested in pursuing?  Can I handle the bizarre guilt I feel at the thought of putting my kid(s) in daycare?  What sort of work is worth it to not spend my time directly caring for my kid(s)?

It is all very seriously confusing.  It's also a bit sad that I'm just now sitting down to do this.  I always thought that, at 31 years old, I would know what I wanted to do.  Or at least be enough of a grown up to suck it up and just find some kind of something to do.

That was a bit fatalist.  Sorry.

Through most of high school and college, I had a very definite idea of what my life would look like at this point, and where I am is nothing like what I imagined.  Which, to be very fair, is a really good thing.  But it does leave one a bit adrift.

And right now it all seems to have been brought to focus by the question of whether or not to retake the Bar Exam.  I probably will.  It makes some sense to do so, and it keeps my options open.  But that's part of the problem.  Being a grown up means making decisions and picking one path from the many to walk down, at least for the immediate moment.  And picking one path means you leave others behind.  That always makes me a bit sad.  I want to walk all the roads.  I just do.  Yet it seems that I am going to spend a bit longer stuck in the crossroads.

Take care, friends, and I'll write again soon.

You Know Who You Are

Yesterday was kind of a crappy day for me.  I'm not even sure why.  I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed and no matter what I did (hang out in the sunshine with the baby!) or what I accomplished (made seitan from scratch!), I couldn't shake the totally bummed out feeling.

It got to the point where I went ahead and slept on the couch, just because I felt like I needed some space.  Everything was making me grouchy, and I didn't want to give myself the chance to take it out on Paul.  Because sometimes, I'm just that guy.  I was getting more and more upset with myself because I couldn't figure out what was wrong, but I was still grumped out of my mind.  Fortunately for me, I checked my email before I actually fell asleep.

Mixed in with the usual junk emails was a message from one of my former undergrad mock trial students.  She had taken the time to write to me and update me on her law school application process.  She recently made her final choice on which law school to attend (she had been accepted to multiple) and wanted to let me know.  She also asked after my family and hoped all was well.

That email probably took her maybe 5 minutes to write, but it absolutely made my day.  Aside from the fact that I am ridiculously proud of her for all that she has accomplished, and for choosing a great law school, it was the subtext involved in simply sending the email that really made me happy.

When you send an email like that, the information in the email is almost secondary.  The act of sending it, of having someone reach out to me and letting me know how their life is going, is something that humbles me on a regular basis.  The sender of that kind of email is saying that they miss you.  They wish you were around so they could tell you this information in person.  They are thankful to have had you in their life and want you to know what is going on, because you were a part of making it happen.  They have just passed a super awesome and important milestone in their life, and you are a person that they thought of in that moment and wanted to talk to.

Seriously, that kind of connection is a precious thing.  I got so happy when I read her email that I cried.  I sometimes wonder how I got so lucky as to have amazing people like her in my life.

I haven't written her back yet.  Mostly because I had to process the awesomeness that was her email before I could really formulate a response. I'm getting all teary eyed again just thinking about it.

This is why I like teaching.  This is why I love coaching mock trial.  This is why I will continue to do both those things any and every time I can.

Take care folks, and I'll write again soon.

Reading To My Son

I believe that books are important.  I believe that books can teach you how to empathize with other people.  I believe that books cane make people, and therefore the world, so much better.  I really do.  I firmly believe that part of why I am the person I am is because of the books I read.  The courage of those characters, their strength in the face of world-ending catastrophes, reinforced my ideas of what it meant to be honorable and brave and loyal.

Which is why Paul and I read to the Pumpkin every day.  We started reading to him before he was born.  Sometimes, I would make Paul read to the tiny embryonic Pumpkin just so I could get the benefit of being read to sleep.  What I never imagined before the Pumpkin was born was how hard some of his books would be to read.

The Pumpkin has plenty of safe books.  Those are the ones that are easy to read.  Thomas the Tank Engine, Frank and Ernest, ABC books.  I don't have a problem getting through those.  But some of his other books, I have to read multiple times to myself before I can even attempt them with the Pumpkin.

Have you ever read Guess How Much I Love You?  Big Nutbrown Hare and Little Nutbrown Hare have a bedtime contest to see who can express a bigger love for the other.  It's a simple and adorable story that should be a breeze to get through.  But when I read it to the Pumpkin, I completely lose it maybe three out of every four times we read it.  I start crying and my throat gets all tight and I just want to hug the Pumpkin until I get a grip.

It's like that with a lot of his books.  I read those books, the ones that cloud my eyes and close my throat, and they take all the huge universe of love that I feel for my Pumpkin and they smoosh it all down into my body at once.  Like every atom of everything that has ever been, is now, or will be, gets jammed through my pores and into my body until I'm overflowing with the heart of the universe and it's always almost too much.  Every time I get so close to being overwhelmed, my mind and heart not sure that there's enough room anywhere, anytime, ever, for all this love.  I have to close my eyes and hold my breath to cut off the exchange for just a moment, until I can pull myself together, find the room, remember how to live with so much absolute beauty.

And then I'm better.  Crisis avoided, self in one piece, I finish the book.  I kiss the Pumpkin.  I breathe in the air around him and wish I could make a perfume of his smell, that perfect sweet baby smell.  The whole crazed moment has only taken a second or two.  The Pumpkin doesn't even realized that it's happened.  It will probably be like that for the rest of my life, with me losing it in small doses and him oblivious to the entire process.  I suppose it will be like that with all of the kids I have, since I do want to have more.

I'm going to keep reading those books.  I'm going to keep falling in love with my kid(s) each and every night.  And when they grow up, I hope that they keep reading.  I hope that, eventually, they get to fall to pieces in the exact same way.

Take care, and I'll write again soon.

Customer Service Gone Right

Most of the time when you call customer service, things go horribly wrong.  You're on hold for a bazillion years; there's some sort of phone system that leads you in a never-ending loop or automatically hangs up on you; or, my personal favorite, you speak to a series of people who have no idea what you're talking about no matter how often you ask to talk with a manager.

Recently, I have had two customer service experiences that have defied all expectations and have actually served me, the customer, in a positive and helpful way.  

The first one happened when I was trying to resolve a prenatal charge from back in June of last year, when we were still living in Illinois.  We had a fetal echocardiogram done to make sure that the tiny human, known at that point as Embry, didn't have any heart issues that we should be aware of.  The claim was submitted to our insurance, which promptly denied the claim.  They sent it up the chain at insurance for review, but to no avail.  They kept telling me it was a routine procedure (um, very much no) that they would not cover.  Well, as happens in these cases, I got a final bill from Carle telling me that I needed to pay them or I would be in trouble.  I called Carle and thought I was going to have the usual awful phone experience where nobody helped me and I just got more and more frustrated and angry.  

To my pleasant surprise, I wound up talking to a manager in Carle's Maternal and Fetal Medicine department within just a few minutes.  This woman was a customer service goldmine.  Not only did she listen to me and actually understand my problem, she then told me she would call our insurance company directly and give me a call back to let me know how things went.  I was a little worried at this point, because usually "I'll call you back later" means "You will never hear from me again and I won't even note in the system that you called."  This amazing woman not only called our insurance company, explained the problem to them, and immediately faxed them some documents to support our claim that the service should be covered, she then actually called me back.  She explained what the holdup was on the insurance company's end (they didn't know I was pregnant, because "fetal echocardiogram" doesn't indicate pregnant...?), told me what she had done, and asked me if I had any questions or if there was anything else she could do.  Seriously, I was blown away.  

My second bit of awesome customer service relates to our stroller.  So I went a bit extreme on the stroller I wanted.  It's this amazing (and, unfortunately, expensive) jogging stroller that totally rocks.  It's aggressive.  It will roll over anything.  It rides super smoothly.  It has decent storage space.  I love it.  Unfortunately, the same stupid plant caltrops - goat's head thorns, which I now hate with the passion of a thousand burning suns - that ate my feet a few weeks ago have also destroyed the stroller's front tire.  It wouldn't hold air and I really didn't want to have to pay the rather large sum to have new tubes and tires sent to me.  So I called customer service. 

I couldn't get through the first couple of tries, so I was starting to get worried, but eventually I got hold of an awesome person who helped with everything.  He apologized profusely about my not being able to get through and explained that they were celebrating a co-worker's birthday, so folks were eating cake and bagels when they normally opened the lines.  But, he then indicated that he would send me a free replacement tube for the front stroller wheel even though tubes and tires aren't normally covered under the warranty.  Which is awesome, because I kind of live by that stroller.  Recently, I've been using our Baby Bjorn to take the tiny human on walks, but the longer the walk the more intensely angry my back is at me when we get home.  

Soon, I shall once again be the proud owner of a usable and intensely awesome baby jogger!!!  

Customer service should be so simple.  I should call a place, talk to a person, and get my problem fixed.  If they can't fix my problem, they should apologize profusely, explain why, and patiently allow me to snidely berate their company.  Okay, that last bit is a bit jerky, but that's one of the services offered by customer service:  client venting.  The two folks above are amazingly awesome, and I am planning on sending them cards.  Seriously, it makes absolutely everything so much better when you can talk to a person and get the help you need.

So, my friends, may all your calls to customer support be as helpful and non-frustrating as these two were for me.  Take care, and I'll write again soon!