my first

I finally feel like I have sacrificed something for someone else. And not in a volunteer "I did a good deed" kind of way. Actually it stings a little bit for me because had I known what I was really doing, I might not have done it.

You see, I bought this truck back on September 10, 2001 (yes, 9/10). It was a family event really - my dad and grandpa joined me (as well as my unfortunate-life-experience ex-boyfriend). I wanted a manual Toyota Tacoma Xtra Cab TRD. One problem, I didn't know how to drive stick. So everyone else drove it and approved. Decision made. A couple weeks later I got my pink slip. Fantastic. I owned something at age 20.

I learned to drive a stick on my truck but don't worry, I did it well and didn't ruin anything. I decided to call it Ruby.. but after discovering the balls, changed it to George. George and I went everywhere together. I loved the fact he could only hold 2 people comfortably because I never had to drive a load of people everywhere. I didn't know a load of people anyway so it was ok.. I got a lot of solo driving in, as well as time to memorize all of my CD's through the awesome stock speakers and practice my vocals. I could listen to the same song as many damn times as I wanted to because no one else was with me to complain. And George didn't care.

I drove through puddles too large for wimpy vehicles; over curbs; mud; gravel; spun on slippery cement; slow trekked on very large rocks; got scared on windy days when I imagined being rolled over by a gust; threw mountain bikes in the bed; moved couches and beds; took muddy soccer balls to practice. I took him to the dealer for every service trip for the first 4 years. Bought flashy zebra seat covers to keep his interior superior.

He brought me to college, to soccer, to my husband, to Yosemite, to San Diego, and lots of other places. And now I sold him. For a Nissan Xterra that I am sharing with my husband. I realize once you are married, these kind of these belong to both of you but, this is my first time with this. And it sucks it had to be with my truck vs. something else I don't know what. I passed over my pink slip two days ago. The slip I've had for almost 7 years. And it was really hard. And now I don't have a 'baby' anymore. Other than my clothes, I have nothing else now that is 'mine'.

I guess this is just one of the steps with getting used to marriage.

give thanks to highway 85

Hey! I know you... haven't seen you in a long time. What's up.

I've been hiding in my hermit crab of an apartment away from rain and wind and chill and friends and life. I haven't even gone to the grocery store. And since my husband never shops for groceries, beer and water is the extent of our refridgeration adventures right now. It's like Survivor in our apartment. That canned dog food is starting to sound good.

If you are wondering about my running status, I put away 4.75 miles yesterday. And 2.5 the day before. I've earned my tall nonfat white chocolate mocha with no whip. But I know my weaknesses and still fight them every second of my sleep. The slightest incline, wind friction, drinking fountains that are too far too see... they haunt me. But I know I have a few people rooting for me. And they seem to know I can do it and I'm starting to finally believe them.

I have a 10K coming up in less than two weeks and I am actually looking forward to it. ! You see, as I mentioned, I ran 4.75 miles yesterday but you have to know that I did that after a week of doing only spinning at the gym. I wasn't even running during the week and I still managed to get the most mileage in Kathleen history. Once I invest in a handy dandy running water bottle container, I will be good to go.

The first time I set out to do this 4.75 distance was actually a couple of weeks ago. Aly and I met up early in the morning and we headed out on the Campbell trail. I have this mental thing that shuts down my lungs once I pass a point I've never passed before. And that's what happened here. Every corner we turned, I searched for my landmark. Highway 85. I have to get to 85 before I can turn around... but alas, nowhere in sight. I was beginning to wonder if it even existed anymore. Finally we turned a corner and all I saw was a hill. (when I say hill, I mean tiny little bunker. possibly the equivalent of 8 steps) So I told Aly "Time to turn around!". Fuck the hill.

So this time I was determined. I was going to 85 or the reconstruction of it since I didn't see it last time, and giving it a big hug. When we turned that corner and I saw that hill I just looked down - maybe if I can't see the hill, I won't feel it. And low and behold, after conquering the bunker, there, suspended in golden air in the sunrise with angels was 85. I couldn't believe it. And I really didn't. It wasn't until I went home and redid my calculations on google maps that I could confirm that was in fact 85.

Hallelujah.

Next stop? Lark Ave.

Run for the Ring

on Saturday February 9th, if anyone wants to find me at 9am I will be at the Campbell Park standing at the starting line of a 10k race ready to soil my shorts. if they plan on shooting off a gun, I'll have to remember to wear a diaper.

if I follow my half marathon training schedule, I should be more than ready for a 10k by February 9th. what I won't be ready for will be the waves of nerves and nausea. the restless sea of the churning stomach. at the sound of upchuck, start your engines! I almost want to arrange for myself a fake race. gather some friends and family at my starting and ending point. decorate them with a deck of cards, a camera, a dog, and something to go CRACK. and then think of them for the next hour while I chug through the trail.

come to think of it, that's an excellent idea. now all I need is a cause.

Back to the Future

so I have really been tearing apart my own brain recently. swinging faster than grandfather clock pendulum seconds between running and not running. running and not running. runningandnotrunning. runningandnotrunning.

I feel like I can't take myself seriously anymore because of my indecisiveness. I started writing two weeks ago about the half-marathon I had chosen - but I didn't publish it. as if, in case I changed my mind, at least it was never 'official' anyway. this disappoints me. I disappoint me.

and then during one of my methodical drives home from work that you don't remember because you do it every day, I made a connection. my junior year I confronted my coach and told him I wasn't going to play this year. I choked up and embarrassed myself and he didn't believe me. and I guess I didn't believe me either because I got myself out there and had one of my best years. then I didn't play my senior year.

and to this day, I hate that choice I made.

and now here I am about to make another stupid decision like that followed by who-knows-how-many years of regret.

the truth is, I am 26 years old. recently married. planning to have kids in 2 years and 2 months (exactly). and if there is any time in my life in which it is fitting and within reach to run a half-marathon, it is NOW.

time to change the past.

the adventures of grocery shopping

I stepped in to Safeway yesterday drenched from the rain and feeling like a soggy cat being placed on the counter at the vet hospital. my running struggles need to be fixed at my food and liquid intake level. and that starts here, at Safeway. They should pay me for this.

I began with an ambitious list of vegetables and fish and chicken. I left with one bell pepper and frozen chicken boobs. let me explain.

this store had nothing. shelves were bare or decorated with too young or too old fruits and vegetables. the few sections that had at least 2 of one thing were crowded with people ready to leave me crumbs as I turned the corner. my quest for a healthy lifestyle was slowly being diminished by hungry greedy little scavengers hunched over the remaining Progresso's. I imagined Safeway with the lights off and turning the corner to shine a flashlight on these people - revealing their true selves. vampires feeding in selfish frenzies.

I wanted to get away from these people. I had a pattern happening with the blood-sucking Progresso couple where we passed each other mid-aisle, in EVERY aisle. should I ask them how their evening is in aisle 3? aisle 4: how's your mom? aisle 5: I heard about your sister - tell her it isn't contagious but she shouldn't have sex until she sees a doctor.

I skipped an aisle with all intentions of revisiting it in order to break up the relationship. it's not you, it's me. my healthy lifestyle was not going to succeed with an audience watching me debate between whole wheat angel hair and light cheese ravioli.

after my yogurt flavor debate, time to save myself and get the hell out. pay, drive, park, haul all of the groceries up 3 flights of stairs by myself (applause here is welcomed), stock kitchen, eat, sleep, wake up and discover the power is out.

if I come home to find warm organic yogurt and thawed out frozen chicken, I'm sending my husband to the grocery store alone to buy everything again plus a chocolate bar.

Brought to you by.. Duvel

I have reached a new low.

you see, it is bad enough to have a flakey friend. it is worse when that flakey friend is yourself.

I have gone too long without any sort of physical exertion beyond lifting a beer bottle and scratching my dog. I told myself 3 days ago the same thing I told myself 2 days ago: "I am going to get out there today. just me, my iPod, and everyone else I don't know."

and I didn't. this makes me think of all those other times I told myself I would do something and ended up failing myself miserably. but we're not going to get in to that. not here. not now. not when I have stabbed my own back and have yet to recover.

after getting very angry at myself yesterday for this exercise massacre, I made my partner get me out there and moving. how does one do this? you never, ever, tell your partner you don't want to run today. because if you do, and if they coincide - time to find a new partner (and if they don't coincide, you have made public your weakness). and that is not fun. so I never let down my guard and tell him / her I don't feel like it today.

of course, it does help that I cannot talk while I run anyway - muttering the words "I need to stop" is hard for two reason: 1. I'm lying to myself and 2. I physically cannot talk - I'm too busy breathing.

so we met up yesterday and hit the trail. me wearing my hand-me-down running tights that I really think are see-through but no one agrees with me. one really feels their leg fat bounce with they are wearing tights and nothing else. if it weren't for me hitting the trail right before they close, I'm sure I would get passed by many people trying to rid themselves of the site.

but nonetheless I J-E-L-L-O'ed myself through 30 painful minutes. realizing at my finish line that it's been so long I've even forgotten how to use my watch timer. I accidentally stopped it at my turning point. shmuck.

during our cool-down walk back to the car, I finally came up with a 2008 resolution. you are what you eat - and I did not just run for 30 minutes. vodka, belgium beer, and bagel bites just did. this needs to change.