Friday, July 29, 2011

Exhausted at 3:12 a.m.

I stumble in my room after getting home from work. It is three a.m. and my alarm is going off. For a moment I can't figure out why my alarm is ringing at this hour.

Then it hits me. Last Monday morning, my alarm was set at 3 a.m. so I could wake up by 3:14 a.m. for my race. I never turned it off.

It was just Monday--although it feels like so long ago--that I was racing my 10k, which is the second one I've ever done. This year was much better than last. Right now I'm so tired and brain dead that I can't remember what it feels like to be energetic and ready to pound out 6.1 miles, but earlier this week I'm sure I felt that way.

The race was fantastic for me, I finished in 52 something and was 18th in my age division. 18 is my lucky number, after all. It was hard, too. Hard and glorious.

I ran with Adriana most of the way, but she sprinted ahead during the last half mile. She pulled out at a 51 something. We were in disbelief when together we passed mile three, and according to her watch, it was faster than the fastest 5k we've ever done. The race is mostly down hill, but we still felt proud of ourselves.

Lindsey did her usual quickness. She did a 45 something. Super awesome.

Our parents didn't come down to SLC to watch us race, but that's OK. It was a great way to start the week that was to be long and stressful. They had a lot of things to do.

It's over, though. This long week of rehearsals and Chrony are finished. These wee hours are Friday, and Friday means freedom for a few short hours. Then it's back to work. I can do this. It's like the last mile of the race. Every bone and muscle in your body is screaming and sobbing and all you can do is focus on every minute aspect of your stride. You know your face is awful and red and all the people on the side of the road who are watching you are probably really glad they're not you because you look so ghastly and agonizingly winded.

But you run anyway, and push your body and find there is strength untapped in reservoirs deep within your will to survive. The pain is to be embraced, taken in and basked in.

Now I just have to gear up for the weekend. Which I expect to be equally as grueling as the days before.


Thursday, July 28, 2011

Staying home

My family is on vacation. I am not. I had high hopes of joining them at the end of the week, but the powers at be thought otherwise. I will be lucky if I get a few hours up at the cabin.

My summer has been quiet and pretty empty, until now. Now about fifty different commitments are vying for my attention and time.

It's hard to remember how fun the musical is supposed to be when your sweltering under the hot stage lights, crammed next to other sweating people. The air conditioning is off, and we still aren't even in full costume, and so we have yet to realize how hot it's really going to get. And we do the scene over and over and over because we can't get it right.

I need to practice my Gibson Girl hair some more. I'm stubborn. I will settle for nothing less than a brilliant pompadour. People wore their hair like that every day--and some people still do--so I should be able to get it right. This should not be out of reach. I hate skimping on something so iconic as hair. I don't want a lousy low bun without any body. No sirree.

Then there's work too, but that hasn't been too bad. It's good to be back in the office. I had to stay home for the musical anyway, so work isn't too much of a burden. It's flexible anyway.

So yes, pity me in my misery. No, don't really. I just needed to vent.

Anyway, have a nice day. Especially if you're riding horses. Have a brilliant day.


Monday, July 18, 2011

Thoughts on living

This morning I went horseback riding. Then I went to a aerobics and weightlifting class. Then I went to yoga. Then I ate some really unhealthy food, so after my nap and my laundry, I rode my bike. When I came back from my bike ride, I watched Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition. Yup, I'm kind of bragging.

I am tired of thinking about weight and fitness all the time. But I know it's important. I want to work hard now and never let myself go, so I can be strong and powerful my whole life.
When I can't run another step, or lift another weight, I repeat my mantra.

"I am strong.

I am fast.

I am beautiful."

Notice how I don't use the word "skinny." I am skinny. I don't need to get skinnier. And "thin" is negative. That word connotates loss, hunger, and unrealistic magazine models.

I won't have this much time to spend on my body when school starts again; I'll be exercising my brain instead of my abs. I love the summer because I can work out and really enjoy it. It's taken a few years to build up to where I am, and I still have a long way to go.

This is the body God blessed me with. I am happy with it, but I'm not content. I can be stronger, more flexible. I need to get better at resisting temptation. I want keep my body fit so I can be helpful and healthy.

It's sad that "active lifestyle" is a separate idea from just plain old "lifestyle." Moving and living is what it's all about.

There's no one perfect body, or perfect lifestyle. I just never want to be caught lazy and careless about life. It's precious.


Thursday, July 14, 2011

Hallow ground

I have always been jealous of Ginny Weasley. She ends up with Harry. That brave be-speckled wizard who overcame loneliness, betrayal and loss, and not with magic (although he did have awesome skills). He used love, and courage, and friendship.
The Harry Potter series enchants me, and taught me so much. But it's not so much about what I learned, it's about how I felt as I learned.

I was treading through the words and gazing at moving pictures in the halls of Hogwarts at the edge of my breath. Right along with Harry, I was under the cloak of invisibility running through the forbidden forest.

I was devastated when I turned 11 and my Hogwarts letter came. But I kept hoarding memorabilia and collectibles in my Harry Potter Box. I slept on a Harry pillow and put a Harry blanket on my bed.
My friends love Harry's world, too. I love talking about it and speculating and remembering and making life metaphors with Harry Potter. It's just so fun.

I watched the movies and became more and more impressed with each one. They've been getting better over the years. And the last one is going to be fantastic. I just know it.

But I'm not going to the midnight premiere. Yes, call me lame, and not a true fan. I'll admit that this is partly because I'm old now and I can't stay up as late as I want anymore. Mostly, it's because I want to treat this moment with reverence.
This moment is special, sacred. The era isn't ending, I believe Harry Potter will forever remain in our culture and our hearts. But it is the end of the movies. I just want to take it in slowly. I've gobbled up every HP thing at midnight for about fifteen years. This time, I want to take my time.
Don't spoil anything for me! And I hope you enjoy this pics. Don't make fun of my Harry Potter toys.



Wednesday, July 6, 2011

The Great Sock Depression

I have lived through the Great Sock Depression. I will never be the same.

There was a time when socks were plentiful. Every Christmas and birthday, I would receive a new package of white cotton ankle socks. Sometimes I would even get patterned ones or holiday-themed ones. Life was wonderful. Sometimes a sock would lose its mate, but the little basket of single socks was always there, and the match was eventually found.

Then I started doing my own laundry. The socks began to disappear at an alarming rate. They would disappear into oblivion, and I couldn’t find them, despite my searching. I could not wait until next Christmas, so I bought my own package of Hanes socks.

Using a Sharpie, I painstakingly inscribed a letter M on the inside of each cuff to mark each white bootie as mine. No one else’s. This package was particularly large, so I was fortunate enough to relish the joyous comfort of wearing new socks over and over again for about one month.

For the next few months, I tried my best to account for every sock and not leave one behind. I still lost a few here and there, but I was vigilant and there were few casualties who fell to the unseen evil sock-sucking vortex.

But the move threw everything off-kilter.

In the stress of finals and packing to return home for the summer vacation, all the possessions I owned were thrown hap-hazardly into any transportable container and shoved in my 1988 Honda Civic. I’m sorry to say many socks didn’t survive the journey.

At home, I still had access to plenty of socks. My sisters, my mom and I all have the same size feet, so we share our socks.

But then I started working-out more. My family exercises like it’s nobody’s business, and they’re accustomed to going through a short sock turn-over, but I wasn’t.

Not only were socks disappearing faster than normal, because they were being washed more than usual, but holes were starting to appear! The socks were dwindling and I couldn’t keep up with the laundry fast enough.

I didn’t want to buy more. It’s not that they’re expensive… it’s just that I feel that they should last longer. I settled for long socks until the summer heat suffocated my feet too much.

I then turned to wearing miss-matched socks. It took all my willpower to overcome my obsessive compulsive tendencies to do so, but eventually I became callused and unfeeling to the statutes of order of matching socks.

Slow combing of the laundry room, and pathways to it, has yielded in some fruitful recoveries of lost socks, which has relieved the shortage.

Wearing old, holey socks has also helped the situation.

Analysts say that the depression has official come to an end, and everything should look up soon.

I hope so, because I love socks. The end.

Sunday, July 3, 2011

American Summer

Summer has a magic laziness to it. I am busy, but without a real schedule to speak of. The hot days are filled with trips to the nursery, heritage days, fireworks, and sleeping in a tent in the backyard for no real reason.

Spending a worthwhile $4 to ride the Gravitron, a fabled amusement park ride I had only heard about in my parents' nostalgia. It exists, people. You step into a flying saucer-like room. It spins around really fast and you're subjected to several G's. It's like taking off into outer space.
Cooking and baking. (Muffins, specifically.)
Jello is pretty awesome, too.

Trying out hairstyles for the upcoming musical.
I look like a Gibson Girl, no? OK, I'm getting there. Practice makes perfecto.
I can't wait for the 4th tomorrow. We're starting out with a 5k and ending with a rodeo.