Knitting, my other random hobby

Go to this link. Go NOW.

I need these patterns in my life. NEED NEED NEED.

And after all, don't you want a chance at receiving a hand-knitted monster for Christmas?

At your own pace

Just got home from my four mile run with the running club. Funny thing about peer pressure - sometimes it's what causes you to run too fast and injure yourself. Sometimes it's what pushes you to run just a little bit faster than you normally would, and helps you get to a new place.

I really feel like I've turned a corner in my running. I'm finally able to go more than five miles, and I'm able to judge my own pace by the feeling in my legs and my feet, I can take my walking breaks and make them stretching breaks at the same time, and I'm home and I don't feel dead. Starting to run outdoors was absolutely the right thing to do and I'm so glad. The discovery of my pace song was also a happy and completely serendipitous occasion, so I'm just going to share the happiest part that runs through my head every time I start to feel like I can't do this.

When everything feels all over

Everybody seems unkind

I'll give you a four leaf clover

Take all worry out of your mind

Let my love open the door

Let my love open the door

Let my love open the door to your heart!

I had to break off and leave the group - they were doing eight miles tonight and since I did six yesterday, eight today would have been stupid - and as I was waving goodbye to them, I realized that I don't feel alone even when I am alone. I'm in Boston, THE marathon city, so every sidewalk is filled with runners and sprinters and joggers and walkers and bikers. We're all sweaty, we're all huffing and puffing, we're all bitching about the humidity and giving thanks to the gods for the breeze off the Charles River, we're all in this together. And that's a very comforting notion.

That said, I'm going to stretch before the ick in my hamstrings sets in and reminds me that blogging after running, while a useful winding-down tool, should NOT come before stretching!

Under pressure

I had laryngitis all last week. For the first time ever. And then I had an allergy attack in the Norman Rockwell Museum, which has precipitated some very serious gook in my nose and throat. Nothing colorful, just....plentiful. Yuck.

I'm supposed to be in Vermont right now. I'm supposed to be in Middlebury, immersing myself in my German so I can audition for these agents on Thursday. And yet, where am I? I'm still in Boston. I'm actually in my running clothes because I decided to go do a little four-miler with the running club this evening. They are doing eight miles, but since I did six yesterday, I'm going to lay out halfway through.

When people ask me about sources of pressure (school, job, etc) nothing seems to measure up to the amount of pressure I put on myself. Pressure to make my workouts, meet my goals, get well on time, learn my music right away, get the laundry done before I'm out of running socks, all of those things. It's always been this way - I set goals and, if I don't meet them, I'm so much harder on myself than necessary. I had laryngitis. I didn't go to a Faith No More concert and scream my lungs out. I didn't blow out my vocalis by yelling at A-Rod at a Sox/Yankees game. It just happened. Poof. I did everything in my power to get better quickly. I didn't talk or whisper. I drank lots of fluids. No caffeine (aaaaarrrrrgh) or alcohol. Lots of sleep. Throat-soothing tea. But I'm scared that if I drive up to Vermont tomorrow, I'll have to sing. Just because I'm there. I will have to sing because I'm me and I will be there and exercising restraint in the face of an opportunity has never been my style.

So why am I still sitting in Boston in my running clothes?

Because I have crud. I have crud in my throat and my voice is mostly there but it's not back in shape, nowhere near ready to get up and sing Lakme or Zerbinetta for those people. And I don't want to make a bad first impression (you only get one chance to make a first impression...blahblahblah) but if I don't go, is it because I'm scared I'll suck or because I'm not ready. And is that letting myself off the hook. And would letting myself off the hook be such a bad thing for once.

Is bowing out giving up or being sensible? Ask me after my run. Maybe I'll know by then.

Y'all gonna make me lose my mind (up in here, up in here)

I don't know why DMX is my personal soundtrack for this morning, but here I am, humming this ridiculous song as I'm stretching.

I'm one of those people now. Those people you see out on the sidewalk when you're half-awake, clutching your coffee as you trudge from the kitchen to the living room. Those people who go to bed early so they can get up early to do their long run before the sun is all the way up. I found myself saying to my friends last night, "No, I'm gonna pass on the sangria, I have to get up early for my long run." My friend Laura says to me, "Um..are you training for something?" "Yes, the Boston Half." "And why are you doing that, exactly?" "Ask me tomorrow."

If I didn't do my long run, I would feel like shit. I would feel guilty and I would be cranky all day that I didn't go. At what point in time did running become a major indicator in my mental health? I was having this conversation with my weekly running phone buddy, the VeganDiva of NYC. We usually talk on Mondays after my long run - catching up about our runs this week and her pursuit of the half-Ironman and singing and whatnot. We are those bat-shit-crazy people. We have conversations about sports bras and Bodyglide and shoes and pacing and running plans. I done lost my mind. It's time to shower.