Let Them Be Little

This weekend was filled with a lot of football.  Saturday was all about USC football with the boy.  We ventured out to the desert (aka Riverside) to hang out with some friends to watch the Steelers vs. Raiders game.  But what I took out of this weekend wasn't that I'm a really good girlfriend to go watch all of these football games (which I do enjoy, by the way).  No, what I realized more and more was what kind of kids I want.

I realize I might have lost you there.  There's not a clear connection between football and children, especially when you throw in a tailgate or two along the way.  But, my dear friends, let me show you how this is done.

While watching USC win, there were two brothers sitting in front of us.  I'd peg them at about ages five and three (or younger) and they were THE cutest.  Both were geared up in USC red and gold from head to toe; my favorite were the ears sticking out from under the too-big baseball caps.  I was skeptical of the parents at first.  The mom had her nose pierced like a bull and had a half-shaved head with crazy-big earrings.  I totally judged.  But the boys put my judgement to shame.  They were extremely well-behaved and I could tell that they genuinely loved each other by their actions.  The older brother would push the little brother back into his seat if he got too close to the edge.  They shared a water bottle.  The older boy pointed out the airplane because he knew his brother would get a kick out of it.  They didn't cry.  They didn't scream.  They weren't running around.  But they were still happy, funny, friendly kids.  So I have to give mad props to the parents for the way those boys were acting; I'm sure it's not easy raising two young boys.

Take-away lesson number one: Raise kids who know how to behave in public but still have fun.

On Sunday I had the pleasure of hanging out with two little girls who are six and three.  They reminded me so much of me and my sister; they played really, really well together.  They spoke the same language and fed off of each other's enthusiasm.  They were so creative!  At one point, I found myself in a "doctor's waiting room" with an un-diagnosed illness.  After that, we were at a crazy dance party.  And then, of course, they had to take me to the yoga show.  

My favorite part of the day, though, was when they were running around in the backyard (which was mostly dirt and rocks) barefoot.  They weren't worried about their feet getting dirty or stepping on painful stones.  They were having too much fun showing me their chickens and swing set.  This struck a chord in me.  Most of our backyard growing up was gravel and although the first couple of steps out there always stung a bit, once your feet got used to it, the darkening sky at the end of the night was the only thing holding you back from a whole day of playing.  

Take-away lesson number two: Teach girls that it is perfectly acceptable to be dirty and running barefoot is freeing. 

These are obviously only two things that I hope to instill in my children.  But it's so good to see that children can grow up without iPads or distractions from their parents (which I didn't see at all this weekend).  Kids can be kids.  That's what I want. 

An Educational Shift

I am a nerd, therefore I like NPR.  My favorite part of public radio, though, is the once-weekly show, This American Life.  It is a long-form radio show that touches upon a wide array of topics.  The most recent show, entitled "Back to School" was mind-blowing.

This is the synopsis of the show that is posted on This American Life's website: As kids and teachers head back to school, we wanted to turn away from questions about politics and unions and money and all of the regular stuff people argue about, and turn to something more optimistic - an emerging theory about what to teach kids, from Paul Tough's new book, "How Children Succeed". 

I would hope that everyone reading this would listen to the show because it is hard to write a really good synopsis that includes ALL of the topics they touch upon.  But I will point out a few highlights that I found extremely interesting.

* When telling middle school girls "scientists have found that you can improve your intelligence" on a regular basis, studies show that those girls, who have often "fallen apart" when it comes to math, catch up to their boy counterparts in that subject.  They close the gap and perform at the same level as boys; the girl's average math test scores were the same as the boy's average math test scores.  Telling students they can improve their intelligence changes the mindset of these kids.  They are learning resilience and optimism.  That alone can change test scores. Holy cow!

* Kids who have "attached parents" - those parents who empathize with their children and comfort them during stressful situations - are more socially confident and successful later in their lives.  They're better at dealing with other people and picking themselves up after setbacks.  It seems like common sense.  But for those kids who don't have attached parents, they don't have those non-cognitive skills and therefore don't do well in school (focusing on non-cognitive skills is the premise of most of the show).  Teaching parents how to be empathetic and connect with their children can help those children later on in school.  Studies show that having an empathetic parent who can be supportive during stressful times (poverty-stricken childhoods, domestic abuse situations, etc.) can reverse the effects that those stressful situations create.  Potentially changing a child's life is as simple as teaching his or her parent how to be empathetic and supportive, something that can help even the poorest of the poor. Again, holy cow!

I truly believe that education is one of THE MOST important things in a person's life.  But here's where I often stray from other's beliefs.  I believe that money doesn't have to buy education.  My sister and I went to public schools from kindergarten to the day we got our high school diplomas.  She went on to get a bachelor's degree from Stanford University and I received a bachelor's degree from Colorado State University and a master's from Stanford University. We didn't go to some fancy pants boarding school and my parents didn't splurge on overpriced tutors.  Instead of those things, we had them, our parents.

I know that our parents were the driving force behind our successes academically.  From practically the beginning, they read to us every single night.  They asked us questions. They encouraged us to ask questions (my mom would always send us off to school saying, "Ask good questions").  They took us places.  They let us experience things.  They expanded our minds.  They talked to us like adults.  They pushed us (but not too hard). They built our confidence.

We went to rural public schools that didn't have the highest achievement records in the state and we could have drifted through. While I can't give all of the credit to my parents (my sister and I took upper-level high school classes and were involved in a lot of activities), without them, who knows where we would have been.  

I'm not saying teachers aren't important.  And I'm not saying that parents can do it all on their own.  But what I am saying, and what the This American Life show describes, is it is clear that outside forces beyond what we learn in the classrooms affect how we learn and how we succeed. 

Well, Hello Again

Sometimes, you just have to take a break from it all.  Unplug.  Recharge.  Feel the grass between your toes before you can jump right back into the crazy.

Apparently that's what I've been doing lately.  But I think I'm getting back into the groove again.  I have a new roommate (hey, Lauren!), a handsome man by my side and a dog who loves to give kisses.  I am setting goals for myself and trying to stay away from the T.V. as much as possible (The Bachelorette aside, of course).  Here's the plan:

• Read during dinner instead of watching mindless crap.
• Jump on Rosetta Stone to learn Spanish at least 30 minutes every day.
• Exercise at least five days a week (did I mention that my sister and I are registered for the Tinker Bell Half Marathon in January?!).  Back in the saddle again.
• Write more, whether that's here on the blog, in my journal (encouraged by this couple) or for other outlets.
• Get back into Twitter.  It was inevitable ... no one can quit Twitter.
• Listen more.
• Be understanding and positive.

The summer is going brilliantly and hopefully making these things happen will add even more awesomeness to my life!  Have you guys ever taken a break to wind down and recharge?

Inch Like a Caterpillar

Progress isn't about making big leaps and bounds every day. It is about moving forward, pushing the big stone one little bit closer to your goal. I'm learning this really quickly now that I'm coming back from this soul-sucking rough injury.

Here are some boulders I'm inching forward in my life:

1. Running. I will get there.

2. Learning Spanish. The Rosetta Stone software is hopefully on its way to my mailbox.

3. Eating better dinners. I'm looking for easy, healthy recipes now and I want to cook something new at least once a week. Send suggestions my way.

4. Training Austin more. I have attached a treat dispenser to his leash, so we can work on "leave it" while walking by unruly dogs.

5. Stretching. Now that I have a set of official stretches that are visibly changing my body, I am putting in the time (about an hour every night) because I know it is going to get me closer to running (see: number 1).

6. Being more understandable. I would love to spend as much time with the boyfriend as possible, but sometimes, it's just not possible to do it all.

7. Praying in a more meaningful way. I'm guilty of throwing up the occasional 'Our Father' when I need help. But I've tried to become more cognizant of what I'm praying about and listening to what God says back.

What progress are you making in your life?

Coming Back Stronger

It would be cliche to call it one of "those" runs. What I didn't know is that it would be painful. And revolutionary. And one of the most awesome and disappointing runs that I'd ever been on.

Here's how this all happened. On December 23, I went out for an eight-mile run. I had less than a month before my first half marathon. The run was perfection. I was on pace. I was moving like I'd never moved before. The last mile was clocked at just a tad over 7 minutes. I was stoked. That race was mine for the taking.

And then the pain. Top of the foot and unrelenting. A horrible ache that took over my consciousness.

Suffice it to say that the next day, walking was a chore. A painful chore.

It'll get better. I just need a little rest.

I thought those things over and over and over...

A week and a half later, it wasn't better and the rest was making me anxious. I had a half marathon to run in two weeks. Fifteen days to be pain-free and confident enough to run those 13 miles. The confidence was what I was really worried about. Training and endorphins can get you pretty far in a race, but your belief in yourself is what gets you across the finish line (call Hallmark, that's a winner).

So then, like anyone who is grieving, I started to negotiate.

If I don't run between now and the race but stay healthy and positive, I can do this.

I thought those things over and over and over...

I had to pull the plug.  I couldn't run my first half marathon injured. And man, was I injured. Physically, mentally and emotionally. Drained and hurting.

Somehow it was easy to tell people that I wasn't running the race. Injury, especially when people had seen me hobbling around, was a perfect out. I felt a weird sense of relief that I wasn't running the race. The pressure was gone. The worry about whether I was going to run in pain was gone. It as a little scary how ok I was with not running.

And then the real need-endorphins-must-take-charge-of-everything part of me kicked in. I couldn't be sitting around, wallowing in the story that "I was injured and just needed some rest". That wasn't the person I wanted to be. I was better than that injured person that I had become so easily and freely.

I made a doctor's appointment at one of the top sports medicine clinics in the South Bay. I got sweet x-rays of my feet. Unfortunately, nothing showed up on them. No definitive diagnosis other than overuse came from that doctor and a script for physical therapy and anti-inflammatories were the only things I had when I walked out the door.

Turns out, the physical therapy was much better than the pills.

After some poking, prodding, stretching, testing and videotaping, the physical therapist deduced that my upper thighs and groin area were SO tight that they were affecting the way I was walking. Yup, I was told I was walking funny because the tightness was inhibiting my body from performing the way it was naturally supposed to.

It's been about three weeks since that realization. I've been doing my stretching exercises religiously and staying positive about my recovery. These are the small things that are going to change me and get me back on the right track.

I go back today for another physical therapy appointment. I'm hoping this one is the one where he says, "You are ready."

Ready for the pavement.

Ready for the early mornings again.

Ready for the feelings that I had that day in late December.

Minus the pain.

Fast Girls Finish First

Firehiwot Dado of Ethiopia wins the 2011 NYC Marathon

 

I caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye.  I could immediately tell she was a runner.  Not just a person who runs to lose weight or to clear her head (although those are always nice perks).  No, she was someone who had speed and had probably run while in college.  She had a purpose to each step and held her body in such a way that seemed comfortable, like she had had that same running form for years.  I watched her as she ran out of my line of sight.  She was fast.

As someone who considers herself a "runner," it's hard not to notice the fast girls that are in my neighborhood.  And to my surprise, there are a few.  There's the one I saw this morning (blonde ponytail, has a small dog she walks in the morning).  There's also a smaller chick with long brown hair who wears it in a braid.  She always runs in the road (which I think is one of the signs to spot a "real" runner).  And then there is a middle-aged woman who wears shortie shorts, but I haven't seen her in a while...maybe she moved.

Yes, I've made some stereotypes here of who a real runner is and the tendencies of such a person.  But these are the girls who get up early to squeeze in their run before the rest of the day happens.  These are the girls who probably eat well and often, but aren't afraid to down a few beers or an ice cream sandwich (like I did this weekend).  They cherish their GPS watch and favorite running bra, but still like to get all fancied up for a night with their special someone.

Sometimes, I consider myself one of them, one of a small group of women who aren't afraid to run in the dark or in the rain (like I did this weekend).  When people casually mention that they run, I have to throw my two cents in and one-up them.  You ran five miles yesterday?  Well, I ran five miles...uphill yesterday.

But sometimes, I am not them.  I lack motivation.  I don't have a set training plan to follow.  I eat one too many cookies even though I know I should stop reaching for them.  Sometimes, I take a week off  for the heck of it because I just don't feel like running. 

When I catch glimpses of these fast runners, I'm jealous.  They always look like they have a purpose to their running, like they know exactly what they are doing and what their mile splits are for each of the five routes they have around town.  I want their resolve to train for something big, for not being afraid to push to the absolute brink of exhaustion, both mentally and physically.  I want their swagger and confidence when they say, "Yeah, I'm a runner" because deep down, they know that running is their gift, their talent that other people just don't have, but something that others crave.

Maybe I'm a fast-girl-in-training.  Maybe I need to focus my mind and create a real training schedule for myself.  Maybe I need to work on my speed so that the next time someone sees me, they think...wow, she's fast.  And I'll feel confident enough to know they are right.

One Day at a Time

"The only way to live happily ever after is to do it one day at a time."
 -- Unknown


As of tomorrow, I will have lived 9,125 days here on this earth. 

Over 9,000 days.

That's a whole ton of sunrises and sunsets, of breakfasts and lunches, of ice cream cones and barefoot miles.

That's more tears than I can count, more hugs that have warmed my body and kisses that have made my soul soar.

In that amount of time, I have lived in four different states six different times (seems like I can't get away from the southwest).  I have cycled countless miles along the beach and up in the mountains.  My face has gotten sunburned and windburned and eaten by mosquitoes (don't ask).  

Looking back over more than 9,000 days is mind boggling.  So much has happened in those days.  So much has changed, whether it is my hair style, my shoe size or the boy who is holding my hand.  And yet, so much has stayed the course. My parents have loved me every single day, regardless of what I did in the 24 hours before or the 24 hours after.  I know that just like the sun will come up, they will love me.  That is a gift that not everyone can say they have.

I met my favorite person around day 824.  Even today, at the 9,124th day, and again in another 9,000 days, she will be the bestest sister a girl could ever wish for, or even have the gall to ask for.

Around day 8,245, I was a graduate for the third time in my life.  Wait, do I count kindergarten and 8th grade graduation in that?  Hmmmm...probably not.  Three times I have gotten up on a stage when my name was read, reveling in the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction, finality and beginnings, while also being scared out of my ever-loving mind.  I have become an educated woman who is constantly wondering, asking and learning.  I don't know exactly when babies become curious beings, but I am still as curious now as I was that day.







I lost my grandpa around the 6,390th day.  That was one of a handful of truly, deeply, heart-wrenchingly sad days of my time here. I have been blessed to have lived, so far, an extremely happy life, one that hasn't been hidden under rain clouds or despair.

Between days 8,925 and today, I fell in love and have given my heart, fully, to another human being.  Hopefully there are more days that feel like these in my future.






 

I became responsible for a life somewhere in the 8,000's.  Every day has been a learning experience: Dogs like to chew carpet.  Dogs like to pee on carpet.  Carpet starts to smell after being peed on too many times.  Dogs like to lick you.  Dogs eat a lot of food.  Dogs need a ton of exercise.  Dogs are truly wo(man)'s best friend. 





People always say, "Man, am I old," in reference to themselves.  And in some cases, it's justified...if you're 89 years old and have lived a full life.  But don't tell me that at the age of 28 or 34, you can truly call yourself old.  Sure, you might be 10,220 days into life, or even 12,410 days.  But what is that compared to 32,485 days.

32,485 days.  89 years. 

That's what I'm striving for (and more).  I want each and every one of those days to combine together to make a happily ever after.  I'm already a third of the way there, and think of all I have experienced up 'til now.  

Here's to tomorrow...and the next day...and the next...

Losing (and Using) My Mind

 By Fatima Azimova

I recently stumbled upon the Run Barefoot Girl website, which is run by Caity McCardell, a barefoot runner (of course).  She does a podcast that focuses on women who run barefoot, who she thinks are underrepresented in the general population of barefoot runners.

I listened to an episode of her podcast with Dr. Cindra Kamphoff, a sports psychologist (and more specifically, a running psychologist) and was truly intrigued.  I have always been interested in the mind part of sports and how what goes on between our ears can have such a profound effect on how we perform on the field or on the dark streets in the morning.

Dr. Kamphoff works at a sports psychology consulting practice that specializes in the psychology of running.  She had several points that I thought I might explore in this post:

1. She suggested having a mantra that you repeat during hard runs or when you need a little motivation.  I've heard this on numerous forums and in Runner's World before.  Using a short quote or positive refrain can often help you focus on what you are doing and remind you of the reasons you run.  I've actually never had or used a mantra.  I've noticed that if I do repeat something over and over again in my head while running, it is the catchy part of the lyrics of the last song I heard while heading out the door.  It's almost as if these lyrics are "running" through my thoughts without being heavy or burdensome - it doesn't feel like I'm actually thinking them.  They seem to just be thoughts that my brain is repeating.  I guess the same thing could be true of a mantra.  Maybe I'll try to come up with a mantra that is personal and special to me and see if it works out.  Do you have a favorite saying that you use to pump yourself up?

2. Why is it that we don't train our brains while training our bodies?  We spend so much time doing fartleks and tempo runs and sit ups but we don't work out our minds.  Maybe it's because it's easy to get tips and tricks for every type of workout under the sun, but getting mental advice is few and far between.  Also, mentally, you are different from the next person.  And while a tempo workout can be modified based on your half-marathon goal time, what your brain tells you in the middle of a long run is not going to be the same as anyone else.  This part can be frustrating, because as someone who wants to learn more about how to train my brain, I would probably need to get a one-on-one consultation with someone like Dr. Kamphoff and wouldn't be able to "self-diagnose" (which believe me, I wouldn't want to do). It just seems that if I am really dedicated to getting into my own brain, I'd need someone to help me and wouldn't be able to do it on my own.  If you know of other ways to go about doing this based on help books or other materials, I'd love to hear about it.

3. Dr. Kamphoff had a really interesting point, saying that we need to go through the several stages of grief when we get injured.  Being a runner inevitably means that you are going to be injured.  You are going to feel aches and pains that make you question why you run in the first place.  But she suggests that it is ok to feel upset about being injured, but then move on to accepting that you are injured and stay positive about your recovery.  This really struck a cord with me today, especially, as I am starting to feel some top of the foot pain again (sigh).  I was in a really low mood early this morning when I woke up and realized that things hurt too much to go out on a run and that I should instead rest a bit.  While I definitely made the right decision, it still didn't make me feel any better...everyone hates being sidelined .  But as I got through the day and took into account Dr. Kamphoff's advice on accepting the "injury," I started to focus on what I could do to recover and get back on the right track.  And I understand that this isn't a full-blown injury that would cause someone to totally and completely lose faith in all things good, but it was still a small blow to my happiness.

So, what's my conclusion to all this?  Remember that your brain is in charge of everything, so take care of it and take the time to train it.  Believing in your mental abilities and being mentally tough can change how you physically feel and react to certain situations. 

My ID

I had seen the ads for Road ID in the Runner's World magazines that my dad would send me once he was done reading them (recycle, people).  I was intrigued.

For those of you who aren't in the know, Road ID is a bracelet that has some identifying info on it in the horrible case that you can't speak for yourself (see: being hit by a car).  You can put whatever you want on it - your birth date, contact info for next of kin, any allergies you may have, etc.

My gears started turning (the ones in my head) and I realized that no one would know who I was if I was lying on the side of the road unconscious.  Sure, Austin's tags say who I am, but what good would that be if A). he ran away when I got hit or 2). they called the number on his tag (my cell phone)...duh, I wouldn't answer cuz I'm lying on the side of the road!

So, I went ahead and bought a bracelet, thinking of my future unborn children who would need someone to birth them.

I have to say, I was a little skeptical about the size when I first got it - it looked like it could barely fit over Austin's paw.  And yes, it does require a little finagling when I put it on.  But, it fits securely when it's on and I barely feel it.  I make sure to always put it on when I take Austin out for a walk or when I go for a run or ride. 

When I was on the Road ID website and it prompted me to put in the information I wanted on the bracelet, my mind started wandering.  How do I identify myself?  In no particular order, this is what I came up with:

• I'm a woman.  Everything I am stems from the fact that my sex has been told no you can't, when really, anything you can do I can do better.
• I'm half Hispanic, a quarter Swiss and a quarter Chinese.  Each part of my background helps to shape how I view the world.
• I'm a romantic. I can't say hopeless anymore, because I've found my prince charming.
• I'm educated and believe that each and every child here in the United States, however they arrived, deserves an education.  Each of us should be given the basic tools that can help us become better people.
• I'm a Colorado girl in the deepest part of my soul.  There is almost nothing more perfect than the golden aspens in the fall.  Well, that and a good New Belgium brew with friends.  That's pretty perfect, too.
• I'm definitely a dog person. Cat's make me sneeze. And puppies are God's gift to man, so how can you argue with that?
• I believe that family is the most important thing in any person's life and that with a strong, loving, forgiving family, a person can be content in whatever they do.  I am in my family and my family is in me.
• I'm a voracious reader.  If it has words, I'm gonna read it.  Except maybe the creepy classified ads.  I don't read those. 

 

• I really, really, really want to be a writer.  I don't know if that will happen now, or later, or if ever, but I am going to strive to be a good wordsmith.  
• I'm a really good eater.  I'm not afraid of food, so I'll probably eat whatever you put down in front of me.  My aunt used to say, "I'd rather clothe her than feed her," in reference to a time in my life when I could eat a foot-long Subway sandwhich by myself.  When I was 13.
• I know that we should all be proud of our bodies (and most of the time I am), but there are certain glances in the mirror that make me want to do a few more sit-ups and run a few minutes longer.  
• I'm a lover. 
• I'm not ashamed to say I own a library card. And use it.
• I'm a homebody who is happy in her normal routines.
• I'm a runner who happens to run barefoot. Ok, ok...in Vibrams.
• I'm a worrier.  If I care about you, it's inevitable that I'll toss up a prayer about you every now and again.
• I'm a sister to an incredibly smart, funny, gorgeous woman who the world is open to...she just needs to figure out exactly how to conquer it. 

• Sometimes, I overcompensate and try to sound more knowledgeable or cultured than I am.
• I have been told that I have no taste in movies and that I've missed all of the "good" ones.  But I am also one who won't watch a stupid movie even if everyone else is watching it.  So there.
• Yes, I need validation that I am smart, beautiful, talented, fast, etc.  Maybe that's why I check Facebook several times a day - just to see if people have commented on my posts or photos.

Too bad all of this couldn't fit on my ID bracelet - those EMT's wouldn't know what hit them!

A Few Good Reads

Spent my lunch break reading...and reading...and reading some more. There's almost nothing like getting lost in a good story.  But because of that, I didn't have the time to write a proper blog post.  So, instead, let me give you a brief look at what was taking up my time.

Remember His Name - Sports Illustrated

"Even as a boy Pat Tillman felt a destiny, a need to do the right thing whatever it cost him. When the World Trade Center was attacked on 9/11, he thought about what he had to do and then walked away from the NFL and became an Army Ranger...."

We all know Pat Tillman's story - football player leaves big bucks to help Uncle Sam win the war against terror, but dies on the battlefield.  The truth eventually comes out that he's killed by friendly fire.  The detail and powerful narrative of Tillman's story is incredibly well-done here.  Reading this, especially after the tenth anniversary of 9/11, and recently being semi-connected to Army Rangers, helped me to understand more about how the Army covered up Tillman's death.  It is mind boggling to think that a government branch, one that is in charge of the well-being of so many people, would continue to keep secrets, even after its poster boy died.  

Frank's Story - Runner's World

Frank Shorter is the father of the modern running boom. An enduringly popular speaker, he spins a captivating narrative about winning the 1972 Olympic Marathon. The story he hasn't told is the dark truth about his own father.

Wow. This was an eye-opening story about the physical and mental abuse that Frank Shorter endured at the hands of his own father, a beloved small-town doctor.  The memories that Frank has of being beaten were, at times, hard to read.  "Often Frank could smell liquor on his breath, which was both good news and bad. The bad news was that alcohol would juice his father's fury. The good news was that, if he were sufficiently enraged, he might grow befuddled and use the strap end of his belt instead of the buckle end."  This is the first time that Frank has ever spoken publicly, and at length, of his abusive father.  There's also a video interview of Frank within this story. I found it intriguing when Shorter said that he had learned to compartmentalize the pain while being beaten, and that translated to him being able to push a little harder while running in big races.

I believe that long-form journalism on the Internet, where it can be as long as the author wants, has become really, really well done in recent years.  Some of the places I find these types of stories are below:

Grantland - Any Bill Simmons fans out there?  This is his off-shoot site where he has some great writers contribute on sports and pop culture topics.

Runner's World - They do fantastic features/bios on runners.  While I read a lot of their smaller, more instructive pieces, I really enjoy the longer stuff they have to offer.

Longreads - They compile the best long-form journalism pieces on the web. Super great place to start for good reads.  Bonus: they tell you how long it should take you to read the piece, which helps when you only have an hour lunch break. :)

New York Magazine - Mainly read this for Will Leitch's sports articles (like his latest one about attitudes towards gay athletes, which was superb)

If you have other good sites for long-form journalism pieces, please, let me know!

The Inhumanity of Humanity

I was a freshman in high school ... still a newbie and figuring out my place in the pecking order that high schools inevitably become ... I had been hanging out in the commons area that morning and I'm not even quite sure how we heard about the attacks; a TV somewhere must have been turned on to the news, a teacher's feeble attempt to try to force something, anything, into our closed-off brains that only pay attention to cute boys, food and gossip ...

When the news broke, no one really knew what to do ... I distinctly remember one of my closest friends laughing and asking what the big deal was ... like planes fly into skyscrapers on a daily basis ... I yelled at her ... I couldn't help it ... my aunt worked in that building ... she was a secretary for one of the companies there ... and we had no clue if she had to work that day ... so I yelled ... "of course it's serious - people are dying!"  It's horrible to say, but that comment from that friend changed how I viewed her for the rest of my time in that small town ... she had been insensitive at the one moment when chaos was not of the controlled kind and all anyone wanted was for someone to reach over, hold their hand and gently whisper in their ear, "everything is going to be ok."

The rest of the day is a blur ... I'm sure we went to class and attempted to learn new things, but really, how can anyone focus on the quadratic equation when your brain is confused at the inhumanity of humanity?  Where had the goodness gone?  What causes one human being to turn on another?  Could I continue to believe in others? 

My aunt was fine ... she didn't work at the company when the towers fell ... the dark, heavy feeling that was sitting in the pit of each member of my family's stomach was slowly released when we heard that.  But many other families weren't as lucky as we were, and I wondered if it was ok to celebrate our news in a time that was clearly not cause for celebration.

It was odd ... initially, right after the attacks, we were all affected by it ... America had been attacked.  But slowly, 9/11 became just a day ... that's what happens when you live all the way across the country, when your office view doesn't change and you don't smell dust and death, don't taste the hatred at others ... we in Arizona were only smelling fall and tasting the new football season ... we were removed, far removed from what had happened ... TV stations didn't show highlights anymore and although suddenly we were in war, it didn't touch us ... I still went to cross-country practice and my mom still wouldn't let me date the senior football star.

Sure, I think now, we fly flags a little more proudly and we say Amurrica with a grunting sound, trying to prove that we know what it means to be a strong, free and powerful country.  But unless you were in New York that day, or unless you lost someone, or unless you went to fight when we cried war, I don't think 9/11 has the same poignancy.  I truly believe this.  For me, 9/11 is a day that reminds me that everyone is vulnerable.

I don't want to end with any cliches ... "we've banded together and are stronger because of it" ... because I don't believe in that at all ... 9/11 divided ... us vs. them ... good vs. bad ... U.S. vs. the world ... everyone's taking care of themselves ... isn't it time to reach over to someone you care for, hold their hand and gently whisper in their ear, "everything is going to be ok"?

Being Left in the Dust

In high school, your friends are everything.  Sneaking out of class isn't fun if you do it by yourself.  Having sleepovers aren't the same if you're just sleeping over with your sister at your own house.  Passing periods are boring if you go straight from you locker to class.  Friends are your lifeblood and you swear up and down (and on every yearbook) that you will always be friends.  How could you ever make new friends and leave these ones behind?  The new friends won't know your history...they won't know you.

Of course, we all know that life happens.  You head to different colleges and while you try your darndest to stay in touch, there are just too many new things to experience at school that your daily calls get cut down to once a week.  Sure, you might see each other at home when you go back for Christmas.  But in spending time together during the holidays, you realize that somehow, even though you promised, something has changed.  It could be you.  It could be her.  In fact, it's probably a combination of both, even though you might think that you are still the same down-to-earth person you were when you left.  Don't kid yourself.  You are nothing like you were when you graduated from high school.

It's interesting how your friends become acquaintances and then how those acquaintances become people who your mom gives you updates on periodically because she sees her mom at the grocery store and politely asks what's new with the family.  Suddenly, you have no idea who that girl is that you were BFFs with.  She's married or still searching for love, but doing so without telling you every tidbit of her life, every secret that she can't tell anyone else.

The sad part?  You still want a remnant of what you used to have.  You seriously try your hardest to maintain a relationship - at the very basic level, a phone call every few months would suffice.  But suddenly, all you remember of her voice is what you hear on her voice mail message when you inevitably get it for the fifth time.  And suddenly, the sixth time doesn't come as easily, and you hesitate when you hear her voice...maybe this time, you won't say hello.

I don't know whether you were the one kicking up the dust or the one choking on it's gritty taste.  But maybe, just maybe, you remember that friend who helped you get dressed for prom or hugged you when you got a bad test score.  And maybe, just maybe, you'll want to pick up your smartphone during lunch and give her a buzz.  Or send her a text.  Or just let her know you're thinking of her.  And you remember what you used to have.  Because that's all she's looking for...some recognition that what you used to have wasn't just in her imagination.

What I Learned from My Pup

I took Austin out this morning for a quick run.  Here are some running lessons I learned while jogging with him:

• He instinctively knows when we are doing an out-and-back run.  As the smart athlete that he is, he runs slower on the out part and faster on the back part.  I think it's part of a runner's DNA that when you finally turn that corner to head home, your pace picks up just a little bit...you can almost taste the end of the run at that point.  If you feel like letting lose and pumping your arms a bit faster, by all means, do it!

• Always take time to smell the grass. And the trashcan. And the stoplight. Ok, don't do that. But take a cue from dogs and don't be afraid to stop if you see something that interests you. Or slow down to take in the scenery.  Running is about enjoying what you are doing, so don't blow by things so fast. 

• If there's a puddle, always run through it.  Or if there's a sprinkler on, don't veer around it.  Puppies aren't afraid of getting a little wet & dirty - you shouldn't be either. 

• Dog's paws can withstand a whole heck of a lot of wear and tear.  If they can run barefoot, we should be able to as well, right?  Their mechanics allow them to run smoothly and efficiently.  We should definitely take a page out of their book. 

• If your tongue hangs out while running, let it hang out!  If you have a weird way of holding your right arm or a shorter stride than others, don't be ashamed of it.  I am a true believer in my body and what it can and cannot do.  If it says that I should run a certain way, then I should.  If my right hand is better in a fist than an open hand, then by all means, that's what I'm going to do. 

• Nothing feels better than a quick roll in the grass after a run.  Austin likes to stretch out and scratch his back along the turf.  In my case, I'd trade the grass for a nice, long shower.  Cold water to shock the body and cool off and then warm water to envelop it in goodness.   

• Head right to the water bowl after a long run and if your beard gets a little drippy in the process and the kitchen floor is a little wet, all the better.  Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. (And go barefoot in the kitchen so your socks don't get wet from the water spilled on the floor by Austin).

Like I said in a previous post, there is just something fun & rewarding about running with a dog and having a buddy to share the joys of running with.

P.S. If you don't feel like getting out of bed (like Austin in this picture), that's what rest days were invented for. :)