Yep!

A little reminder from the folks at Geekfill.

Happy New Year

Somehow, it's 2011.  How did that happen?  Normally I make a new year's resolution or two, but this year I think we'll be too busy to attack any additional goals.  In addition to our normal jobs and commitments,  here are the things we're committed to doing this year:

• I'll be teaching a course at a local university.
• Steve is the assistant coach of a cycling team.
• I'm finishing up a professional certification.
• We're both doing a half Ironman triathlon.  I'm doing an ultramarathon.
• We're planning a wedding and getting married. 

Yep, we got engaged!

You'll have to pardon me if we have no time for resolutions.  We already have a full plate.  I'm not sure how we're going to get it all squeezed into one year.   I suspect most people are truly busy.  If you want to take this year from the resolution treadmill, you have my complete support.

Cheers to 2011.  May it bring everyone wonderful things.

Merry Christmas...or whatever holiday you celebrate

Here's to hoping your holidays are filled with all the things that make life special.

We spotted this last weekend when we picked up our Christmas tree. A fir tree trimmed to look like a palm tree. What can I say, only in San Diego.

Best Wedding Cake Evah!

My former cycling mentor, Jenny, is a fabulous baker of the most beautiful cakes.  I absolutely love this cake she did for a wedding.  The front is all flowers and normal wedding stuff.  The side and top have a robot, a giraffe, a monkey and NINJAs!

How awesome is it to have wedding ninjas?

Today in Randomness

That's my photo on the cover of the book.  

A few months ago someone from the University of Nevada Press called me and asked to purchase the rights to one of my photos from Lake Tahoe.  She was searching Flickr for photos of Cave Rock and came across one of mine.  I was just tickled silly because I love to take photos, but frequently come home from vacation with less than 5 snapshots.  I always forget to take out the camera.  And if I actually take photos, then I'll forget to download them or post them.

That photo is a random bit of luck.  Steve was doing his big 100 mile bike ride around Lake Tahoe and I was doing race support.  This was at a spot on the course where I was waiting for the cyclists.  I had some time to kill and fired off a few shots.

Me, a published photographer.  I'm just tickled.

In The Long Run

With all the triathlon training, I haven't done any long runs since June. I've done the occassional 7 or 8 mile run, but nothing substancial. 

For the last week Steve's mom was staying with us.  She got to spend lots of time with me, but no time alone with her son. On Saturday, she and Steve went on a long car trip to visit family.  I decided to opt out of the trip - that way they'd get some time alone together and I'd get a Saturday to run.  Whee!

I decided to set out for a 15 miler. That was a silly sort of goal since I wasn't really prepped for that distance and it's longer than any race I'll do this year. There's no reason for me to run 15 miles; I just wanted to run.  Honestly, I think the lack of long runs has made me a little bit disagreeable.

I didn't have a route mapped; I just ran where I felt like it.  I also didn't have the right nutrition so I stopped and bought a cookie and diet coke at about mile 12.  All in all, it wasn't a great run..  I walked a fair amount in the final miles (which might have had something to do with refueling with Cokes and cookies).  But it was nice to have the time alone with my running and my thoughts.  Sometimes I just need to run until I can make sense of everything.

Happy Feet at the Happy Buddha

Sometimes I get caught by an idea that will not let me loose.  This week I decided that I should go for a foot reflexology  treatment.  I've never been for reflexology and know nothing about it, but the idea would not be denied.   Of course, I didn't want to go alone; therefore, I decided that Steve also needed foot reflexology.  Steve's a good sport and he agreed to join me in a visit to the Happy Buddha Reflexology Spa. 

We didn't know what to expect. We got there and the place was dimly lit and absolutely quiet except for some soft music.  Occasionally, you'd almost hear someone whisper but most they just mouthed the words.  The room had six super big lounge chairs that sort of resemble Craftmatic Adjustable Beds.  As we sat down, we were served some lovely tea and the reflexologist reclined the chairs for us and gently put our feet in hot water scented with Chinese herbs.  Ahhh.

What happened next was a take no prisoners attack on any possible muscle tension or knot.  I'm not sure how these guys train to be reflexologists, but I'm pretty sure they can squeeze coal into diamonds with their bare hands.  You wouldn't believe their hand strength.  While my feet soaked the therapist worked on my head, neck, shoulders and arms.  No gentle soothing strokes, this is serious drilling into tense spots.  I had no idea there was so much tension in my forearms and triceps.  It was Heaven.

After about 20 minutes the therapist moved on to my feet.  Wow.  Running creates a lot of tense tendons and ligaments in your feet.  When I had plantar fasciitis, I was supposed to roll my foot on a golf ball to break up the scar tissue.  That golf ball had nothing on this.  Any remaining scar tissue probably dissolved out of pure fear.   I wouldn't call it relaxing and sometimes it hurt a bit, but wow my feet felt great.  The hour wrapped up with some work on my shins (ouch! good!), calves and thighs.

All this for the low, low price of thirty bucks which is an unbeatable value for a full hour.  If you're someone who likes a very, very firm massage or you have tense muscles and tootsies or you just like to try new stuff, then I highly recommend you give foot reflexology a try.

Afraid of My Own Strength

First, let me tell you that the move is completed.  Thank heavens.

We had a bit (ha!) of tidying (ha!) to do at Steve's old place last weekend.  While Steve went to ride his bike on Saturday morning, I thought I'd get that cleanin' party started.  Sometimes even the most mundane event can become an adventure. I was cleaning the shower and tried to turn the shower head to rinse off the shower wall.   That's when the shower arm ripped off in my hand.  Not the shower head, the shower arm.  That thing that goes through the silver donut and into the dark recesses of the wall.  

Hmm.  I tried to screw it back in, but it wouldn't go. When Steve got home I asked him to help. He was stumped too and he's an engineer.  The shower arm was threaded, so it should screw in, yes?  But when I reached inside the wall (scary!) the inside of the pipe felt smooth and there weren't any threads. 

Sunday morning I stopped by my neighborhood hardware store, North Park Hardware.  This is old skool hardware, not Lowe's.  At North Park Hardware, they don't have lawn furniture, rubbermaid containers, barbecue grills or a website.  They have hardware - every type of wall molly and screw, tons of tools and all the obscure stuff that the old houses in this neighborhood need.

They also have very knowledgeable staff.  No one says "it's not my department"; these dudes know how to fix stuff.  So I was a bit ruffled when the owner glanced at the shower arm and said "You don't even know how much trouble you've got."  Turns out I'd ripped the pipe in half.  The reason I couldn't screw in the shower arm was the old pipe was stuck in there.

The owner walked through the store with me and tried to find a tool to clean out the pipe.   He found the closest fitting tool, but it wasn't exactly right so he took out his saw and modified it for me.  I went home and tried it, no luck.  Back to the hardware store.  He found another tool which was slightly too large, so he took it on over to his grindy wheel thing and ground it down to size.  Really, does anyone at Home Depot customize tools for you?  No, they don't.

Then he did something extra awesome.  He pulled another tool off the shelf and loaned it to me.  He said it was expensive and I was only ever going to use it once.  How many times was I going to rip the shower arm in half?  The tool was also pretty much indestructible so he said I could use it and bring it back the next day.  Not that I could buy it and return it.  Or even leave your name and address.  He just pulled it off the shelf and handed it to me.  How friggin' fantastic is that?

Went back to the apartment and spent the next few hours engaged in the knuckle scraping work of removing the snapped off piece of pipe.  It was a strenuous, frustrating job.  And frankly Steve had his doubts that I could do it.  (He was busy sorting and packing stuff so the plumbing repair job fell to me.)  In the end I got the old pipe out and installed the new shower arm. 

I'm proud to report that:

1. I'm strong enough to rip pipe in half.
2. I'm tenacious enough to spend hours making the repair.
3. I returned the perfect tool to the world most awesome hardware store.

February. How did that happen?

January is a misty water colored memory. We are still moving Steve from his place into our house. Of course, you’re probably wondering why it’s taken us so ridiculously long to complete this move. Not since Moses led the Israelites to their new crib in Canaan has a relocation taken so long.

We had the best of intentions. We were trying to make this a stress-free move by moving a couple of items every day.  That would space the move out over a month. We’ve gotten derailed nearly every weekend…vacations, play-off tickets. Plus Steve is mentoring for Team in Training which means he’s gone every Saturday. Oh, and to celebrate the anniversary of spraining my ankle I resprained ankle. Good times.

We also didn’t fully account for the stress of a slow move. I’ve had exactly one move in my life that did not involve professional movers. That move was coordinated by my mom who is so effortlessly efficient that my stuff practically jumped into the moving boxes out of blind allegiance to my mother.

Here’s the deal with professional movers. One day they show up and they make the pain stop. Oh, you didn’t get to sort these books and donate them? Tough. They’re in a box. Didn’t get to drop these dresses off at the battered women’s shelter? They’re going with you to your new home. Professional movers come in like a swarm of locusts packing everything including half full trash cans and dirty cat litter pans. Movers are on a take no prisoners packing spree.

The other thing we didn’t fully understand was that a slow move would turn me into a raging looney tune. I hate clutter. Hate it. The slow move is an endless clutter parade.  I get everything put away. Instantly, more boxes and clutter come into the house. By the love of Swiffer, when are the professional movers coming to make the pain stop?

Long time reader Lisa commented that I don’t seem to enjoying my long runs. She’s right. I’m not enjoying the long runs, because my brain is constantly saying…you should be packing, moving, working, cleaning. Running was my time away from the world. Now my world is crowding out running.

We are almost done with this move. All the big stuff is moved, now it’s just conquering the final clutter and we’re home sweet home.

A Night Not At the Opera

This is my annual post to kick-off the new year. Luckily, I didn't make a resolution to be on time since I'm already a few days late. Actually, I don't make resolutions. Instead, I try to let go of things that aren't making me happy.

For 2010, I'm letting go of my proclivity to schedule every minute, day and weekend. If there's a slot, I'll fill it. Even that's not enough for me. On the way a scheduled activity, I'll squeeze in a trip to Starbucks, then stop by Costco to return something. It's no wonder I get to the end of the day frazzled and frustrated by half started projects. This was especially apparent to me in the month of December when I was too exhausted to even blog. I had posts written in my head, photos to share. I just couldn't focus long enough to post.  I was simply overwhelmed and over-scheduled.  Overwhelmed by wonderful things, but overwhelmed nonetheless.

If there's one moment the symbolizes my over-scheduling problem in 2009, it was the night not at the opera. In 2009, we had season tickets to the opera for the first time. I've never had both the money to spend and partner who'd go to the opera with me.  I'm grateful for both.

I was really looking forward to the final opera of the season, Madama Butterfly. Unfortunately, I gave Steve the wrong date and he put the wrong date in his calendar.  On Friday the night before the show, I said I thought we had tickets.  He said, no next week.  I was pretty sure we had seats for Saturday, but I just couldn't get myself to get back in the car and go get the tickets out of my desk drawer.  I was home, exhausted and I already had my jammies on.  Steve always keeps a more accurate calendar than I do anyway.  The next day I started my Saturday grind - long run with the marathon team, something in the afternoon, etc...by the time I remembered to go and check the tickets it was Wednesday.  Butterfly floated away and we'd missed it.

A lot of things could have gotten us to that opera.  I could have checked the date before I gave it to Steve.  I could have put it correctly in my calendar.  I could have remembered to go to get the tickets after my Saturday run.  I didn't do any of that because I was simply overwhelmed, over-burdened, over-scheduled and damn near exhausted.

So that's what I'm going to let go of in 2010, my need to over-schedule and over commit.

Merry Christmas

This is me and Santa.  Judging by the look on my face I'm pretty sure he smelled like Gin. I might have been snickering at his pointy, pointy head. Good to know my crooked, smirky smile was fully developed at such a young age.

Here's to Merry Christmas and wonderful 2010.

Sofa Time

We spent an outstanding amount of time on the couch this weekend.  Steve and I rarely have that luxury.  One of us is always traveling, working, racing, training, fundraising, mentoring or volunteering.  There's precious little time to hang out and relax.  It wears on both of us; Steve tends to get little colds and I just get grumpy.

This weekend it rained a bit on Friday and it was windy on Saturday; therefore, neither one of trained.  Yes, I know.  I'm a delicate flower who won't train unless the weather is perfect.  Whatever, it was time on the couch.

The couch has become the couch of controversy.  We're trying to figure out who's furniture to keep since Steve is letting go of his place and moving into our house. (Did you notice how I slipped that in there all subtle-like?)  We're in the midst of trying to decide how to put our two households into one little bungalow.

Unrelated - the photo is some flowers that are on the dining room table.  Have you ever seen roses a more spectacular color?

Return of the Pie Snatchers

I went to Costco twice the day before Thanksgiving.  On its best day, Costco isn't the place to see a live enactment of peace on Earth and goodwill toward all men.  Have you seen the pushing to get that last sample of beef jerky?  Costco is Thunderdome.

At 3 o'clock Steve called and said we should bring pumpkin pie for the dinner we're attending.  Normally I'd bake my own pies, but we needed pie ASAP. During my morning trip to Costco they had pallets full o' pie.  By the 3 pm there was no pie, but an amazingly long line of people waiting for pies.  I actually took a bunch of photos because I thought it was so funny.

That's when it all started going to H-E-double-hockey sticks.  People started to try cutting into line by sneaking through other aisles.  If you want to get a Costco crowd violent, try budding in the pie line.  I finally had to say that I had photos and I could verify who had been in line and who had not.  That ended that skirmish.

The guy in front of me said he was going to buy all the pies and resell them at a profit. Seriously.  I'm in line behind a dude who's business plan is forming a pie monopoly and becoming Opie the Pumpkin Lord.  That was solved when a Costco employee said there was a two pie limit.  There would be not Pie DeBeers.

I finally got my two pies, plopped them in my cart and started the grindingly slow salmon-upstream trek toward the checkout line.  Why, oh why are they sampling hot soup today?  That takes people forever to sample and I'll never get out of this store.

While I was waiting for a clear path, I saw a lady try to take a pie from someone else's cart.  (Hey, if you abandon your cart mid-aisle to get a sample, this is going to happen.)  That's what we're reduced to...pie snatching.  I used an empty fabric softener box to build a Pie Defender™.  That way no one could distract me and steal my pies.

Share the Road

Sometimes you scratch your head and wonder what people are possibly thinking.

Dr. Christopher Thompson had pretty nice life going: head of emergency services for Beverly Hospital, owned a medical record company, had a nice house on a California canyon down the road from the Governator. Nice life. He also had a nasty habit of harassing cyclists who rode in the canyon by his home. He graduated from yelling and cursing to stopping short in front of cyclists by slamming the on the brakes of his luxury car.

He probably would have gotten away with that behavior except last summer he stopped short in front of two guys who were unable to avoid him. One suffered a separated shoulder; he got off easy. The other slammed into the rear windshield suffering shattered teeth, broken bones and lacerations that left his face permanently scarred. Dr. Thompson told the officer who came to investigate that crash that he did it "to teach them a lesson."

Last week, Dr. Thompson was found guilty of 6 felonies and a misdemeanor. He was found guilty in part because other cyclists testified that he had done his brake slam maneuver previously. Which is horribly sad, because as an ER doctor he had to know how vulnerable a cyclist is.

I've been thinking about this case a lot in part because Steve and so many of our friends are cyclists. Over the past for years, I've seen plenty of drivers act like jerks to runners and riders. Every time I wonder what makes someone mentally unstable enough to think that his car is an acceptable weapon.

For Dr. Thompson, he's in custody awaiting sentencing. It could be up to 10 years, but it's certainly likely to be much less. He'll almost definitely lose his medical license. Hopefully, the two men he injured will prevail in some civil litigation also. Seems like an awful lot to lose simply because one sunny afternoon Dr. Thompson decided he was entitled to the entire road.

Citizen-By-Choice Marathon Winner

In case you missed it, last weekend was the New York Marathon. I love that marathon and dream of running it one day. When I was growing up in Pennsylvania, we got the New York television station. This was BC - Before Cable. It was a "get off the couch and turn the TV dial to pick one of 10 channels" world. Most years, I'd see the marathon on TV and I'd think, "those people are crazy, but I sure want to do that".

This year the men's race was won by the USA's, Meb Keflezighi. That's the first win for the US in nearly 3 decades. He ran a blistering 2:09:15. That's faster than I run a half marathon.

Of course, he's not enough red, white and blue for boneheads like Darren Rovell at CNBC. Rovell's problem with Keflezighi is that his family immigrated to the US when he was 12. His family left Eritrea, a small country in Africa, because army troops from neighboring Ethiopia would kidnap teenage boys a force them to fight in their guerrilla war. (Gee, my parents worried about me falling off the swing set at the park.) Keflezighi's father walked 600 miles to Sudan to make immigration possible for his family.

By all accounts, the Keflezighi family have worked hard to succeed once they got to the United States. Meb went to San Diego High School then on to UCLA where two of his sisters went also - one to med school and the other to law school. And in 1998, he took his test and swore his oath and became a US citizen. End of story.

Looking at the article, I find Rovells original article insulting and stupid; his follow up apology is even worse. Here is what he said, "Nothing against Keflezighi, but he's like a ringer who you hire to work a couple hours at your office so that you can win the executive softball league." No, Meb Keflezighi's like any of the hard working citizen-by-choice immigrants who got to this country and worked to be successful.

Notes:
The photo is the one used by CNBC for the story. Oh, the irony - it burns. Photo credit Don Emmert, Getty Images.
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The Old Gray Mare Ain't What She Used to Be

Growing up, I was the queen of Halloween. Driven by an insatiable love of candy I'd start trolling the neighborhood before dusk. I had a strategy. Go to the row houses for maximum time efficiency per candy drop. Sure sometimes you'd get full size can bars in the rich neighborhood, but some of those people give out pennies, raisins and, damn it all, toothbrushes. I'd take the pillowcases off my parents king size pillows. No matter what I brought home I managed to devour it within a day or two. And that was only because my mother tried to ration it.

Tonight, I realized I've gotten soft. I dressed up in costume to hand our candy. We give out good stuff - brand name chocolates and in the larger fun size not the teensy mini bar. Between visits from trick or treaters, I was reading Deepak Chopra's Perfect Health. The irony wasn't lost on me. I'm not a fan of Deepak, because I think a lot what he says is unsubstanciated crap. I only bought the book because it was 50 cents at the used bookstore and it was autographed by ol' Deepak. I collect autographed books just for the amusement. Deepak signed his, "Dear Vicki, Wishing you the joy of immortality. (Like I said, crap.)

While I was handing out candy, I was enjoying the occasional treat myself. After a few candy samples, I was clutching my stomach in pain. What happened to the iron gut that could gobble down the king sized pillow case of candy? Gone. Frankly, I'm blaming it on reading that Deepak.

If I've gotten weak, so have kids. In my youth, Toostie Rolls which were hard, impossibly chewy and able to pull out a dental filling. The only thing more dangerous was the JuJu Bee. Now Tootie Rolls are sealed like a candy bar instead of just a twisted wax paper. I had a Tootsie Roll and it was soft as butter. Also, the kids don't work for it. One set of kids had their parents driving them around and double parking in front of houses with candy. How lazy can you get? Those kids don't deserve Fun Sized Chocolates. They're just lucky I didn't have a toothbrush to give them.

Taking A Dip In The Swamp

If you follow the health news, you might have heard about the food swamp study published by the Rand Corporation. The study correlates obesity to the density of fast food restaurants, convenience stores and grocery stores in Los Angeles. It's interesting reading, even if you don't live in LA.

The study finds that the amount of fast food restaurants doesn't vary much between the obese and fit neighborhoods. What does vary is the amount of convenience and small grocery stores versus large grocery stores. The smaller stores sell what the study generously calls "high-energy foods". You know this stuff - potato chips, candy bars, hot dogs on those roller grills. These are the calorie bombs. Neighborhoods that have only small and convenience stores are food swamps of high caloric food options and a correspondingly higher rate of obesity. People with access to large groceries have a huge advantage in keeping their weight reasonable. Their stores have those high energy foods, but they also have fresh fruit, veggies, healthy grains. The stuff you need for a balanced diet that doesn't give you a butt that hangs off both sides of the barstool.

Even if you have access to large stores, there are times when you have to dip into the swamp of convenience foods. I've gone into 7-11 and hunted for anything reasonably healthy. (I get the 2 hard boiled eggs and whatever fruit cup they've got.) In fairness, 7-11 isn't the worst. A lot small neighborhood convenience stores make 7-11 look like a farmers market. At best, you might find Light Beer.

After reading the study, I decided to go back to carrying some healthy snacks in my car. Next time I need to storm the aisle of the convenience store, I want to remember that it's a calorie swamp.

The Workout Alternative

I cleaned the garage this weekend. It was the hardest workout I've ever done. Actually, it was far more than a garage cleaning. It was a complete restack of all of the storage in my house - boxes under beds, closets, dressers, kitchen cabinets. Everything had to be pulled out, sorted and reorganized.

Our house is small, not by Southern California standards, but by 2 people and a cat live here standards. This is a 1920's bungalow with 2 tiny coat closets. (Oh, how I miss the 3 walk in closets I left behind in Texas.) Clutter stresses me, so I'd much rather toss something in a box and move it to the garage than let it sit on a counter. It's a bad habit, but the house always looks very tidy - as long as no one sees the garage.

Another part of the problem is I've acquired different stuff since I moved to California because my life is different here. However, I've still got relics of my Texas stuff hogging space. In California, I acquired a bike, 2 lawn mowers (left by the previous owner), clothing is escalating sizes, more cookbooks, Steve. These things all take space. Over time, that's meant an endless parade of half full boxes going out to the garage.

A big part of the weekend was evaluating what gets the oh-so-scarce closet space. For instance, I have roughly 500 pairs of shoes in this house. That made sense when I wore heels all the time. I now spend 95% of my time in flip flops or running shoes; it's time to reclaim the closet that's a been a shrine 4 inch heels. Oh and those six 6 cigarette pants? I'm not ever going to be that thin again.

It was hours of sorting, laundry, tossing, dropping items off the nicest items at the battered womens shelter. There still a fair amount of work to be done, but it's already a lot better. I've got until the end of the week when Father Joe's is scheduled to pick up the rest of it.

All in all, it would have been far easier to do the 8 mile run I'd planned.

Lame

You see a lot of cool things when you're running. And sometimes you see things that are really, really lame.

I was running in Point Loma and I snapped this shot of the lamest attempt ever at TPing someone's house. Who TPs a huge house with only 1 roll of toilet paper? That's just lazy. Make an effort pranksters.

These people certainly don't have the work ethic to fork the yard.

Teach Your Children

This afternoon Steve and I went to a little girl's 4th birthday party. We stopped by Lakeshore Learning Center to pick a present for her. A few minutes into the Lakeshore experience, Steve was beginning to get irritable. Of course, it's partly the store's fault. There's no reason to subject your customers to Musak of children singing Beatles songs. You haven't been annoyed until you've been annoyed by a chorus of children warbling Yellow Submarine.

I told Steve to head over to Starbucks and I'd pick a toy. That's when I noticed that in addition to sections for Arts & Crafts, Puzzles and Games, they had this section:

Manipulatives? Kids grow up so soon these days.