The facts ma'am, just the facts.

I know they say a picture is worth a thousand words but I don't have my digital camera handy and the internet NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW so words will have to suffice. Anyway this is a blog not a photo gallery.

So here's the deal. Everything is normal, circa 30 minutes ago. Dan and I were at his place working from home. I know it sounds like maybe we weren't really working (or am I just projecting my insecurities and fears here?) and really I can't speak for Dan but I was definitely interspersing work and work-related emails with Facebook and compulsive blog reading. I was at the dining room table. Dan was in his room. (Right. We don't live together. And don't try to tell me there is no way I can know if I should marry him without living with him first because I will just smile and nod to your face and then behind your back I will say to the first person I see "WTF!? Since when is [your name here] such a relationship f*cking expert!? Because [your name here] can just go f*ck him/herself because guess what I never asked whether I should live with Dan before we get married, ok!? When I want relationship advice, I WILL ASK FOR IT!!!" And then I will have to take a Valium. Ok just kidding about the Valium, I will not take one but I will want one.

Ok so I digressed there. The point is earlier in the day Dan had asked me if I would like for him to get me a coffee. But I politely declined because then I would have had to wake up and drink it and I didn't want to do it right then. It was early. Ok it was 8:00 but guess what people, when you work from home, yes you can do it in your pj's, but it also means sometimes you stay up till like midnight working. Like last night, I was working till 11:15. Not that I need to justify myself, I'm just.. turning into my mother, the original not a morning person... ok that is a whole other blog post.. But anyway when I finally woke up and started working of course I was thinking about coffee and how much I wanted some. Being that my coffee pot is at my house and I wasn't going there, the equidistant coffee shop was the only option. So everything was good in my world because a) I was about to get coffee and b) Dan was actually going to bring his laptop to the coffee shop with me so we could work (or blog as the case may be) together. Yay!!

So he gave me the five minute warning, at which point I shut down my computer and donned my shoes. As I put my laptop in my bag, I glanced at Dan out of the corner of my eye and did a double take. Why was he wearing his Halloween costume from last year when we dressed up as a schoolgirl (me) and a dirty old man (him)? It wasn't like he had candy and beer in his coat pockets like he did on Halloween but it was basically the same exact outfit; He had on a heather gray -shirt with some weird math equation on it (no I am not kidding. Seriously, could I even make that up?). The collar was frayed and there was a pea sized hole in the back, right under his left shoulderblade. The edges of the sleeves were fraying too. His shorts were of the cargo variety, and their light khaki shade almost matched his t-shirt exactly. I will give him credit for his low rise Adidas socks (because he prefers the same tube socks he has had for like 10 years) and his new Asics sneakers. Over his outfit (I use the term "outfit" loosely) he had on his black knee length pea coat. As I started to form the words to say something in protest to this ensemble, he took his famous homeless person/toke type hat out of his pocket.
"Dan, you can't wear that outfit."
"Why not?"
"You either need to change your coat or put on jeans. That outfit is not ok."
"But it's not like I'm single. Who cares what I wear?"
"But I have to be seen with you. Like Hey everyone My fiance is homeless." Which is actually funny because a long time ago I dated someone who didn't really have anywhere to live and for some reason like when you're reading a fiction book I was able to engage that phenomenon, "Suspension of Disbelief." And for some reason here, now, I was not able to do that with Dan. Maybe because I am older now, more mature...

But anyway, I really wanted to go for coffee so we walked to the coffee shop even though he was wearing that stupid outfit. I told him he was a walking fashion faux pas and he was like "You should totally blog about this!" and I was like "Would you mind if I make fun of you on my blog?" And he said "Sure, as long as you include all the facts."

I confess

I hate that person. You know the one. The one that doesn't realize the light has turned green because she is having an important conversation on her cell phone. The one who knows you are waiting to get into a medical chart but instead of handing it to you, gets up and walks away, leaving you to wonder "Is she coming back in just a sec, or can I read the chart without looking like a jackass?" What I hate more than that person, though, is being that person.

Tonight I was that person from Craigslist who totally flakes on you. I hate that person! The one who sends you like dozen emails about a ten dollar lamp, to the point where you are like "Forget it! I am putting it on the corner. If you want it, it will be there for free because dealing with you is so not worth $10." Or the person who promises they will come to check out your place and never comes, never calls... I have never actually been stood up on a real date but the number of potential Craigslist roomates who have bailed on me outweighs the number of those who have actually shown up.

Last night I found what could possibly have been the cutest little table and chairs set on Craigslist. I called the number immediately and made plans to come check out said set tonight at 7:30. But by this evening, I was just not in the mood anymore. Having been really good about working from home, I accomplished what I had set out to accomplish by lunchtime. So at lunch I went for a little run. By the time I returned, showered, changed, made lunch, ate lunch, and got in another solid 30 minutes of work, it was time to leave for my 3:15 massage. And when that was done, I was so happy and relaxed, continuing to work just did not suit my mood. So I headed to the 29th Street Mall to finally spend the Sephora gift card that had been burning a hole in my pocket since my last birthday. While I was there I had to just check out the Mac Store, Anthropologie, and Lululemon, where I tried on a few things, liked one, and bought none. When I got home and started dinner, an old friend called. We have been playing phone tag for literally a month so I had to chat. And then it was time for my Craigslist appointment and I just didn't want to go anymore. The work I had ignored all afternoon was calling my name, loudly.

But I couldn't bear to be that person. So I stopped at the ATM just in case I really liked the furniture as the ad specifically stated "cash only." If I was going to be a good CL user, I was going to do it right.

But then, en route to the CL appointment, I got a call from someone who shall remain anonymous. My blog is not where I call people out for being difficult, passive-aggressive, or acting like my volunteer position is a tryout for The Apprentice. As soon as I hit "send" everything went to hell in a handbasket. While we were talking, the seller of the possibly very cute table and chairs set beeped in. She was going to be ten minutes late. No worries, I couldn't quite find her house anyway. She clarified the directions. I beeped back to my previous conversation in which I was informed all the things I had messed up (sorry) and did I want to change this part, (no) and what about this minute detail (use your discretion) and so what should the document say (exactly what I wrote, that's why I wrote it that way) and lets change a bunch of stuff you worked really hard on so we can save money (How much money? Don't know) and also while we are on the topic, what if we did this? (I don't think its necessary), Right but don't you think we should (um I thought I already said no. So do whatever the hell you want, why are we having this conversation. And stop micromanaging me!! Ok I didn't say that last part but I thought it really hard).

I extricate myself from the phone call and feel like slitting my wrists. Then I continue to drive around looking for this address. Seller of table and chairs calls me again to help redirect me. She thinks she sees my car. It cannot be my car, I am not driving down her road. She says she is on my left. I get out and walk around, peering closely at all the addresses on the left. Hers is not there. I call her again. I am supposed to be in the cul-de-sac. She is on the left of the cul-de-sac. Cul-de-sac, duh. I go to the cul-de-sac. I can't even read the house numbers its so dark. I still kind of want to slit my wrists. I can't deal with this. I would so much rather spend my money on the 19" flat panel TV I saw at Target than these tables and chairs. (I currently don't have any TV period). I am sick of driving around a poorly lit cul-de-sac now, feeling angry and annoyed, and have no interest in the table and chairs with the cute toile fabric. I am so done with this, to the point where my done-ness officially dominates my wish to not be that person when the CL seller calls me for like the millionth time. I tell her I am sorry, I cannot find her place and due to the fact that the whole thing ran late in the first place, I have to go home now and I am really sorry. (In my mind this fib works because my non-existent children need me to come home and bathe them and put them to bed). And she says "Whatever" with all the venom of someone who has just been screwed by another Craigslist no-show flake. Which is me. I suck.

Race Report: Park to Park 10 Miler

I decided to do this race about a week ago, as I am gearing up for the Denver half marathon in mid October and I wanted to see where my fitness was. (I also wanted to see where Denver's parks were. I should be ashamed of how little I have explored my neighboring metropolis). I have been running consistently, feeling strong, and enjoying training for the first time in a while. Also, starting this month, for the first time since I moved to Colorado, I feel I can work much harder before I have the sensation that I am sucking air through a straw. I had a good feeling about the race.

Pre race: I got up at 5:10 and drank my smoothie, which consists of 1 cup chocolate soy milk, about a half cup of water, half a banana, and a scoop of chocolate protein powder. I made myself drink a tall glass of water, then sat down with my preferred beverage (coffee) and logged into my workoutlog.com account to review what I had done in 2007 at the New Bedford half marathon. That was the last race of a similar distance where I remember feeling really good about my performance and negative splitting so I wanted to go over the details to see what I had done right that time so that I could hopefully repeat it. My friend came to get me at 5:45, and we arrived at the race start by 6:30. By 6:55 I was lined up at the start line by the 9:00/mile sign. I figured I could start off around this pace, then speed up around the second half. I had not decided at exactly what point I would increase my pace, but I knew it would be between mile 4 and mile 6, depending how I felt.

Race: The gun went off and I started at a pace I considered not hard, but not easy. The first mile was downhill, and I got through it in 8:49. There were a lot of people bunched tight together but I tried to avoid wasting energy weaving too much. By the second mile the crowd had thinned quite a bit and I was able to enjoy the scenery, which at this point I believe was Cheesman Park. My split for mile 2 was 8:56. So far, so good. Mile 3 went by in 9:09. My breathing was a little more labored than I wanted it to be so I tried to slow down a little and not worry about what everyone else was doing. My split for mile 4 was 9:01. I was really focused on my breathing, as I didn't have much else for cues... I didn't want to get obsessed with time so I only looked at my watch for mile splits (and not at every mile), and I didn't wear my heart rate monitor (it chafes me and it often gives me weird unreasonable useless numbers that I know are false), and I chose not to bring my Garmin Forerunner 305 (because I would be so annoyed if it malfunctioned and then I didn't even know my splits or the time). But as it turned out my watch's memory for splits ran out after mile 4 anyway.

I was very much enjoying the scenery and the fact that the roads were blocked to traffic. I got to mile 5 and decided I felt good enough to pick up the pace just a notch, so I did. I held it there till mile 6. Mile 6-7 was pretty much all downhill, so I took advantage of that and decreased my pace to about 8:40 for mile 7. I had been leapfrogging with this one lady for a lot of the race and as we approached the decline, her friend/coach instructed her "Stay with that girl. Follow her down the hill!" When I heard her footsteps getting closer, I became extra motivated to drop her, which I eventually did. Then it just became a little game of passing people, one by one, whoever was just in front of me, or way in front of me, whoever had passed me earlier, whoever was older than me, younger than me, thinner than me, fatter than me... I was open to passing anyone I could. It gave me a good chance to look at the other women's hair as I came up behind them, in neat perfect pony tails or sleek braids... I noted the fact that I had made a major hair mistake in trying to put my not quite shoulder length hair back in a ponytail, wearing a visor and pinning my bangs back with a little barrette. This is the first time I've had bangs since I was in the seventh grade, so what to do with them during a race was a little baffling. I did the best I could, and while the bangs were mostly behaving, the rest of my not-really-long-enough-for-a-ponytail hair was falling out of the elastic and getting caught under the visor and it was just annoying. So I learned that I need a new short hair/bangs race hairstyle and I also learned that I need to stop drinking coffee no sooner than 45 minutes or so prior to the run. I had a major stitch through miles 5-8ish that I attribute to the last minute coffee. This also happened to me a couple of weeks ago, when I sipped on an Americano in the car on the way to my long run, so I know its not a fluke.

By the eighth mile, the stitch was under control and I was getting tired but I knew it was almost done. I tried to pick up the pace a little more and pay attention to my form, short quick strides and elbows straight back.... As I ran through the ninth mile mark I was really ready to be done and I think I slowed down a little because a girl in a pink visor came up next to me and said "Don't slow down! You're all that's keeping me going!" I laughed and said "Uh oh!" but this motivated me to run faster. She fell behind a little and I turned and said "Come on!" but she didn't. I would have liked someone to keep me on my toes for that last bit, but instead it was just me and my fear that my insides wanted to come out. I tried to ignore that feeling as I settled into a pace and focused on staying there. About a half mile from the end though, a girl I had passed eariler in the race came up on my shoulder and tried to pass me on my right but as soon as I heard her footsteps, I ran a little faster. She tried to come around on my left but I accelerated a little more. Then I saw Dan and his parents waving and cheering for me, so I picked it up some more... Finally I turned the corner and there was the finish line just 25 meters away. My official time was 1:28:20 but there was no timing chip. I think my real time was 1:28 even, for an average pace of 8:48.

Post-race: Before I did the math, I didn't mind my 1:28 that much, considering I felt I had ran as fast as possible. Also I had negative splitted, which was one of my goals. Later, I got out my calculator and determined my pace and felt totally depressed. I thought my running was getting back to normal but apparently this was not the case. I just couldn't figure out what happened. I used to do my long runs at an 8:48 pace! I could do an 8:20 pace half marathon two years ago!! What was happening!? Were my steely little gray hairs stealing my lung capacity?? Was it worth wondering why? I was just so frustrated. After much whining, venting, explaining, pouting, thinking, a few tears and sniffles and a some hugs (courtesy of Dan) I decided I think its altitude. All my faster running was at sea level. Some people have told me altitude robs you of 30-45 seconds per mile. The next thing I need to do is sign up for a 5k or 10k next time I am at sea level and see what happens. Then I can better decide if its the altitude or whether its something going on with me that I need to explore. In the meantime, I checked the race results online and found I was 24th of 111 girls in my age group, which cheered me up a little. Along with an Illegal Pete's green chile burrito, a cone of peach ice cream from Glacier, and the Style section (especially Modern Love and Vows) from yesterday's New York Times. And webchatting with my parents, which was superfun because my dad got to see himself on a screen which he obviously loved and my mom and I got to show each other our new haircuts. (My visor/bangs situation had been taken care of well before that point).

Wishbone waster

The first time I was willing to let it go. Dan and I had roasted a chicken and when I found the wishbone I made sure we put it up on a shelf so that it could dry out, and several months later, we each made a wish and pulled on it. He won, fair and square. After grumbling a little about my loss, I asked him what he wished for, fully expecting him to taunt me by keeping it a big secret. To my surprise (and dismay upon hearing the answer), he told me, "I wished to die in space." Die in space? What? Huh? Seriously? What does that even mean? According to Dan, it means that while some hope to die at home, in their sleep, and/or surrounded by loved ones, he wants to die on a spaceship (Did I get that right, babe?). Ok fine. My wish would have been good for both of us, and actually could happen in this lifetime, but ok. It was his wish to make so I let it go. And by let it go, I mean I made fun of him every chance I got, including several months later when I brought it up at the wedding of one of his college friends and everyone agreed, in between hysterical fits of laughter, that Dan had not changed a whole lot since his days as a physics major.

Just last night, on a picnic. we found ourselves with a carrot that had a very wishbone-y shape to it. Not one to waste an opportunity for a wish, I seized the moment and told Dan to make a wish and pull on one end. I closed my eyes and concentrated for a moment. A house in Table Mesa for under 400k. ( with four bedrooms and stainless appliances). One, two, three....
Dan won again!
"What'd you wish for??" I asked. Maybe he wished for a house in Table Mesa (Martin Acres would be ok too) and it would be a win/win!
"Nothing."
"Nothing!?"
"It just happened so fast!"
"Happened so fast? You could have told me to wait! You wasted a wish!!!!"
He apologized. I munched on my measly half of the carrot. I shook my head.
Dying in space was one thing, but nothing. Oh my. I am not sure which is worse.

Race Report: Pearl Street Mile

I had never done a 1 mile race before. I had run a mile as fast as I could, but only in the context of mile repeats on the track or accidentally. Seriously. I once almost dropped out of a four miler because I ran the first mile too fast. My running group, Fast Forward encouraged us all to come out and do it, which was all the motivation I needed. I wanted to do this race last year but I had go out of town for a wedding instead.

So I paid my $15 to run a mile (and I thought my Whole Foods salad on Monday night was a frivolous expenditure!) and ran from my house to the start area as an easy warm up. I warmed up some more with the Fast Forward folks, enjoyed a nice pep talk from the coach and formulated my plan: Go out hard and try to hold the pace. I had no idea what my time would be but I was hoping for 7 minutes or better.

I watched the little kids come through the finish for the kids 1/2 miler, which was very cute, and then it was our turn. "Us" being the "Friends and Family Non-competitive Wave" If I thank Fast Forward Sports for nothing else, ever, I owe them infinite thanks for sending out the email with specific instructions to sign up for this wave.
"How come I can't register as Women's Open? Non-competitive? I'm going to be elbowing jog stroller people out of the way!" I asked the coach.
"If you want to line up with Collen DeReuck and all the rest of the female elite runners, you can, but I wouldn't if I were you," he admonished.
Duh. I forgot this is Boulder, where you have to climb Mount Everest or run a sub 3 hour marathon for anyone to think you're mildly special.

So I lined up with all the regular folk and when it was time to go, I went, pretending it was just a mile repeat with no need to save anything for the subsequent repeats. My thoughts went like this:
Run run run run run. There's Dan on a bench cheering for me. Hi babe. Run run run. Just run. Don't think. Just run. Don't think. Guy in a red shirt with floppy hair passed me. Pass him back. Oh he passed me again. Keep running. Just run. Just run. Just run. My throat is dry. Really dry. Keep running. I can't breathe. Air is for the weak. Air is stupid. Keep running. Its almost over at the traffic light. Don't slow down. I think I see Dan. He's saying "Go Pammy." Mentally I say hi. Can't talk. Why is a grandpa passing me. Almost done. Turn the last corner. Gonna puke. Don't vomit. Run faster. Almost there. Clock says 6:57. Run run run run run. 7:01. Ok. I can breathe again.

Then the wheels started turning... What if it were on the track? What if I hadn't gone to Booty Camp this morning? What if it were at sea level? What. Ever. I ran as fast as I could.

Feel good project

Do you want to feel good? Here's what you do.
Find all the old stuff that if you are a normal person, is probably in your parents' garage/attic/basement/your old room. Unless you are like me and your old room became your sister's room which is now the yoga/granddaughter room and your parents made you take back all of your stuff, in a way that was non-negotiable, in other words they paid to have all that stuff shipped to you when they realized you are probably going to live a million miles away for the foreseeable future which is hard to say out loud but really who are we trying to kid.

So you get all the boxes and you're like "OMG what is all this stuff!?"
You find your eighth grade yearbook, your old sticker book that you and your brother co-owned in 1984 containing a mix of My Little Pony and Transformers stickers and a lot of scratch-n-sniffs that totally don't smell anymore, dozens of wallet size prom pictures of you and someone you all but forgot about, a charm necklace, ticket stubs, play bills, college acceptance letters, the paper machet puppet you made in the third grade, and letters.

Lots and lots of letters. So many letters that you start to think maybe you got hit on the head really hard and don't remember that you used to be a celebrity because from the looks of all these stacks of letters you'd swear you had a fan club.

But as you dig through each and every letter you see that indeed these were not fans but mainly friends and relatives, minus the unsigned letter you got in your box in high school that was creepy, wierd, and threatening, which you did not know who it was from then and still don't know now so you finally throw it away, 13 years after the fact. But other than that its pretty much Warm Fuzzy City. Note after handwritten note bearing sentiments like "I miss you!", "I love you", and "I can't wait to see you again!" And some of them weren't even from your mom. There's ones that say "I am so glad we became friends." Some even comment on specific attributes; "I love your wierd sense of humor!" or "You make me laugh, I will miss being roommates." You find letters from people you forgot you even liked enough to exchange letters with. You find a letter from your little sister written from summer camp ca. 1992 with an urgent P.S., stating "Tell mom and dad I want a trampoline for my birthday!! OK??" You're laughing as you tear through letter after letter. Except when you're reading all the ones from your late grandmother that typically begin "My dearest, precious granddaughter..." and then you are bawling your eyes out. Which intensifies as you find the birthday card from your parents where your dad writes how glad he is that you finally moved back to Rhode Island. And then you are drowning in an ocean of homesickness and wish Boulder could just switch places with Attleboro. So you leave to go put your wash in the dryer because you can't take it anymore but when you return to the living room you see several shapeless ill defined stacks of letters to keep strewn about the floor and you realize you are going to have to figure out a storage system for all these letters (which you may or may not ever look at again and even though you know that you probably won't, find that irrelevant as there is no way you are throwing these away) but you have to leave because you have a 3 o'clock bike fit appointment and you know you are going to have to come home to these amorphous piles and eventually deal with them. Ok so now you feel kind of bad and not so good anymore. But you know that whenever you have a chance to get these organized and put them in some clear stackable Sterlite containers from Target you are definitely going to feel good again.

What not to do

1) Meet your running group for a 6pm run at the park. Finish run just after 7:30.
2) Realize on your way to your fiance's you forgot the ginger that goes in the soup you are about to make.
3)Begin to move from kinda hungry to considering eating my hand
4) Stop at home to get said ginger
5) Start the soup, which involves
a)boiling beets
b) boiling carrots
c) chopping onions, chicken, zucchini
d) mincing garlic, ginger
e) pureeing beets and carrots in blender. Which is more complicated that you thought it
would be and makes beet juice go everywhere.
f) browning onions, garlic, chicken
g) adding carrot puree, beet puree, zucchini, bring to a boil
h) add vegetable boullion and water
h) add ginger
6) Because now it is 9:30 and all you have had for dinner so far is an apple and a few carrot sticks and you are hungry, inpatient, and irritable and beet juice keeps getting everywhere.

I'm not saying don't ever do these things. I'm just saying don't do them in this order if you have a tendency to get hangry. (hungry=angry). And don't ever do these things in this order with someone else if you want them to continue to enjoy hanging out with you unless they are a blood relative or have put a sparkly ring on your finger, but even then I really wouldn't recommend it.

(I do however recommend the soup which we totally winged as far as the recipe was concerned).