I feel like I am on top of the world. I feel like I can accomplish anything. I feel like I can run another marathon (if I decide to). I feel like I can climb Mt. Whitney (when I’m ready). I feel like true love will overcome all. I feel like I can overcome all the ridiculous obstacles being constantly placed in path on this rocky road of life. Do you know why? Because I successfully registered my car today at the DMV.

IMG_3697Now, I know what you are thinking. Most people leave the DMV angry and bitter and defeated. Mad at the world and government and the governor and bureaucracy and their boyfriends and their not-boyfriends-but-wish-they-were-their-boyfriends and everyone else. But that is not even remotely how I feel right now after this day of DMV hell. I have happy little pop songs running through my head. I’m on top of the world! I am Happy! I’m Brave! This is going to be the best day of my life! And all because I got my new car registered at 4:52 this afternoon. 52 minutes after DMV closed. 4 hours and 52 minutes after I initially arrived at the DMV today.

So in case you haven’t been to DMV lately, let me fill you in on what is going on there. I have a child who is trying to get his learner’s permit so I’ve been to the DMV more than most lately. But that is not why I was there. Let me fill you in on my life too. I recently bought a new car. I haven’t really talked about it much because my new car is too good to be true. Some people say it’s a mid-life crisis but it isn’t. It’s practical, fits in every parking spot, gets great gas mileage and gets me where I need to be in half the time any other car in the planet would get me there. When you bill by the hour that is important. And this little car and I were made for each other. It reads my mind. When your soul mate on wheels is in front of you, you just have to go with it. True love is true love. You have to fight for it and drive the hell out of it when you are lucky enough to find it. Despite what anyone thinks or says. Despite any judgment attached to it. Forget the judgment and follow your heart. And if you think this is materialistic you have obviously never experienced zero to 60 in 4.5 seconds. If you have, you get it. So, after a weekend of deep reflection and driving my dream car I bought the dream car. This was a month ago. And of course, reality struck today and I had to go register the dream car and make the final commitment. I had to go to DMV.

Since the first of the year, for reasons that make very little sense to me and I really get angry when I elaborate on, the DMV has turned into a nightmare. As I understand it, in an effort to make people less angry and frustrated with the DMV, and I’d like to think in an effort to make life a little less soul sucking for us all, the DMV has implemented–on a trial basis–a concept where you go, you check in, and they take your phone number. They then will text you and let you know your estimated wait time and how many people are in front of you throughout the day. The idea being, that you don’t have to sit there and let your resentment towards the government and your boyfriend fester. Rather, you can go out and accomplish great things like going to the grocery store, getting your new car washed, and running a few loads of laundry. Meanwhile, you get an occasional text message updating you on your status in the line. This sounds kind of awesome right?

Well, awesome it is not. The DMV becomes a stalker and it gets a little stressful. You hear the delightful chime of your text message signal and think it might be someone you actually want to hear from. Your best friend, your not-boyfriend-but-wish-he-was-your-boyfriend, your mother, your running partner…anyone. Isn’t your text message chime one of your favorite noises? It is for me. Instead it is the DMV telling you that your wait time is now 227 minutes (up from the 211 minutes they told you 15 minutes ago) and there are 169 people ahead of you. You get this text message about every 15-20 minutes for the next four hours. It becomes a little bit of a game. I had one friend of mine actually texting me periodically to see where “we” were in line now? Oh you know, only 72 people in front of “us”. “This is fun!” he responded. Eventually you get one that literally says, “please head back to Nevada DMV, Reno” when you have only 19 minutes left. The problem here though is that if you are not at the Nevada DMV, Reno at the time it closes–today that was 4 pm–they won’t let you in. So you have to be paying attention to not only your remaining wait time but what time it actually is. I knew this, so I was fine. I got the “please head back to Nevada DMV, Reno” text while I was in fact sitting at Nevada DMV, Reno. Others did not know this and were not fine and consequently not very happy.

When I got the text message that said “You have reached the front of the line! Please proceed to Window 31. Thanks for waiting!” I was elated. And relieved. I almost wanted to cry and hug my DMV worker. I was elated and relived and wanted to cry and hug strangers because there were so many times during this day that I wanted to give up. I wanted to say “screw you DMV, I’ll do this Monday”. I wanted to quit. I was having resentment that I had chosen to spend my Saturday dealing with bureaucratic bullshit that I was perceiving as ruining my peace, love and happiness. But I didn’t. I didn’t quit. I read every text message they sent me with a very sad heart that it wasn’t from someone else. I did the calculations to try to figure our how having 116 people ahead of me with an estimated wait time of 130 minutes related to the 4 pm time when I had to be back at DMV and locked in or risk having to start all over again. I sat in the waiting area, I took deep breaths, I thought positive thoughts, and I persevered. My adorable and fast as hell little car now has license plates. I know that there will be hard times. The magic will fade in the winter when I can’t put the top down. There will be speeding tickets and higher insurance rates and more soul sucking trips to the DMV but we love each other and we will be fine. That’s what love is. You have to fight for it and dig deep.

Now some of you may think that this situation is unique to a Saturday DMV experience. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news but that is not the case. The people who work there, who are actually really nice, told me it has been like this every day all month. And the chaos that resulted from the changes at the beginning of the year has not subsided at all. So if you can not have a mid-life crisis, not find love on four wheels, or not have a teenager who needs to get a learner’s permit, you should maybe hold off for a few months. If you are like me and arguably dealing with all three, I would say just think of this as a challenge and a metaphor for your life. You can’t quit no matter how much you want to. You can’t let anyone or anything steal your peace no matter how hard they try. You might miss your yoga class but just let it go and take the long way home. You have to be positive, and cute, and nice, and believe in the power of true love, and work hard and good things will happen. You will get your license plates!


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20 questions for “problem” drinkers. Objection the terms “problem” and “drinker” are vague and ambiguous.

cucumber1. Do you lose time from work due to drinking?

Response to Question No. 1:

Objection. Vague and ambiguous to the terms “lose”, “time”, “work”, and “drinking”. Further, Response No. 1 is not limited in time and is therefore over broad and unduly burdensome.

Without waiving the objections set forth above, No.

2. Is drinking making your home life unhappy?

Response to Question No. 2:

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the terms “drinking”, “life” and “unhappy”.

Without waiving the objections set forth above, No drinking makes my home life quite happy.

3. Do you drink because you are shy with other people?

Response to Question No. 3:

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the terms “drink” and “shy”. Further, Question No. 3 is objectionable because it calls for speculation. Further, I do not drink because I am “shy” with other people. I drink because I do not like other people.

4. Is drinking affecting your reputation?

Response to Question No. 4

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the terms “drinking”, “affecting” and “reputation”. Further, this question is not reasonably calculated to lead to the discovery of admissible evidence. Further, this question calls for speculation and state of mind as to others who are not parties who are not parties to this quiz.

5. Do you ever feel quilty about your drinking?

Response to Question No. 5:

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the terms “quilty” and “drinking”. Further this question calls for speculation and state of mind and is further not reasonably calculated to lead to the discovery of admissible evidence. In addition, this question seeks privileged information. Further it is argumentative, judgmental and not nice.

6. Have you ever gotten into financial difficulties as a result of your drinking?

Response to Question No. 6:

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the terms “financial”, “difficulties” and “drinking”. Further, this questions seeks privileged information.

Without waiving these objections, No. Men buy drinks for me so I have not been impacted financially in any way.

7. Do you worry that you have a problem with alcohol.

Response to Question No. 7:

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the terms “worry”, “problem” and “alcohol”. Further, this question is objectionable to the extent it calls for speculation and calls for information protected by the attorney client privilege, best friend privilege, therapist client privilege and work product.

8. Do you ever drink more than you intend to consume?

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the terms “drink”, “more”, “intend” and “consume”. Further, the question is not limited in time and therefore over broad and unduly burdensome.

Without waving the objections set forth above, No. I consume what I intend.

9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 and 16.

Response to questions 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 15 and 16:

Objection. These questions are duplicative, asked and answered, not reasonably calculated to lead to the discovery of admissible evidence, prejudicial, argumentative, judgmental and mean-spirited. Further Priviledged.

17. Do you drink alone?

Response to Question No. 17:

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the term “drink”. Further, “alone” is not adequately defined and therefore vague and ambiguous. For example, if you drink in the presence of your golden retriever that does not constitute “alone” for the purposes of this question. Further, no one ever really “drinks alone” because of Facebook. On facebook no one is really “alone”. In addition, this question does not account for the possibility that you may be drinking while talking on the phone or text messaging someone else who may be drinking. In such case, that does not constitute “alone” even if that term was adequately defined, which it is not. Without sufficient definition of the words “drink” and “alone” there is simply no way to respond to this very poorly drafted question.

Without waiving the objections set forth above, this question is further objectionable as it is not reasonably limited as to time. In the last five years, ten years, 20 years, ever? Given the lack of reasonable limitation as to time frame, this question is over broad and unduly burdensome.

In addition, this question is objectionable because it seeks information not reasonably calculated to lead to the discovery of admissible evidence. Further such information is protected by the attorney-client privilege as well as work product. In addition this question is argumentative, judgmental and again, simply not nice and objectionable on those grounds alone.

18. Have you ever been to a hospital, institution or had medical problems related to drinking?

Objection. Question No. 18 seeks private and confidential medical information protected by HIPPA.

19. Have you been arrested or taken into custody because of behavior while drinking?

Objection. Vague and ambiguous as to the terms “arrested”, “taken into custody”, “behavior” and “drinking”.

Without waiving these objections. NO. I have not. Ha!

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Suck in your Stomach Like Bradley Cooper is Watching You.

After a particularly mentally challenging yoga class earlier in the week, I got the usual good job from my beloved yoga teacher. But then he pulled me aside and said there was good news and bad news. Let’s call my yoga teacher Jafar for the purposes of this blog. Yes, Jafar, the villain from Aladdin. You see, my yoga teachers are not what you imagine when you think of a yoga teacher. Isn’t the stereotype cute, little, sweet pixies encouraging peace, happiness and vegan living? Mine are more like a crew of Disney villans. They are mostly men, more bad ass than pixie and not always cute, little and sweet. They are honest and tell you what you need to hear, even when you don’t want to hear it.

Disney-Villains-disney-villains-16968225-900-638So, anyway, Jafar pulled me aside and said that there was good news and bad news. You see, I’ve lost a bunch of weight in the last couple of months. 12.5 pounds to be exact. Jafar has been super supportive in my little transformation. But now there is good news and bad news. The weight loss is obviously the good news, the bad news is Jafar can now tell when I’m sucking my stomach in as opposed to letting it hang out. I guess before, my stomach was just an undefined blog so it didn’t really matter if I was sucking in or not. Now, there is some definition and it is in fact obvious when I’m not sucking in like I’m supposed to. This is indeed, bad news.

I went back into the changing room and had a seat to collect my thoughts on this news. My girls noticed something was up from my sigh and generally defeated demeanor. I told them “Jafar says I’m not sucking my stomach in”. One of my girls just shook her head and said in a whisper “Jafar”. My other girl said, that’s why I wear long shirts so he can’t see. Then she laughed at me. I got dressed and headed out. I filled my water bottle for the drive home and continued the conversation about sucking my stomach in. I nonchalantly said to my girl, you know sometimes I am trying to suck in my stomach but it just looks like that. From across the lobby I hear Jafar say, “BULLSHIT!”. My yoga teacher said Bullshit. I then got a lecture about holding in my stomach in all poses, at all times and how I should practice holding in my stomach on my entire drive home and throughout my day. He also warned, me that from this moment forward he is going to be watching my flabby stomach, particularly in Eagle and the pose after triangle (no one knows the name of that pose). He would be calling out not only me, but those around me for not sucking in their stomachs. This must be one of those team building type things that will motivate me to do it because I don’t want my poor comrades to have to get in trouble for my flabby abs. I looked to one of my other yoga teachers for some sign of compassion. Let’s call him Captain Hook. Jafar said, “Captain Hook isn’t going to go easy on you either, are you Captain Hook?” Captain Hook just looked at me sympathetically and whispered, “think Katy Perry”. Captian Hook and I find motivation in Katy Perry. More detail than that is not warranted at this juncture.

As usual, Jafar is right. I don’t always suck in my stomach. In fact, I don’t always work as hard as I should in a lot of other ways too. Ways that are probably less obvious to the villans than a flabby v. tight abdonminal area. The fact of the matter is during the last three months in the majority of my classes I have been trying so hard to calm down my mind and the racing thoughts about the stress in my life. My focus has been more about not having a panic attack than sucking in my stomach. This hasn’t been your typical run of the mill stress…this is the big stuff. Some days just staying in the room is an accomplishment for me and I’ve been doing this for a while. It’s the goal of your first ever Bikram yoga class to just stay in the room. It’s been more about stress management than stomach sucking in, I’ll be honest. But now, I’m coming to the end of some of this stress with some major life changes. Most of those decisions have been made within the 4 corners of my yoga mat. And the truth is that even if the life changes weren’t happening, it’s time to stop with the stress. It’s been too much and too consuming for too long. Now, I can and will focus on sucking in my stomach, locking me knee, pointing my toes and whatever else I’ve been neglecting in my practice.

bradley cooperSo being told to suck in my stomach was not exactly music to my ears and I am in fact sucking in my stomach right now as I type these words. My last two classes though I really have focused on it and made a conscious effort to keep it sucked in all the time. Jafar is right, it’s obvious when it’s flabby and although Jafar didn’t say it, it’s gross too. And while Jafar’s threats to yell at me when I’m not sucking it in are motivation to keep it sucked in, that’s not necessarily enough to make it happen every second of every class. What is working though, is imagining that Bradley Cooper is staring at my stomach the entire class. Bradley Cooper doesn’t want to see an unsucked in stomach. Neither does Jafar or Captain Hook. And frankly neither do I. Here’s to better stomach sucking in, tighter abs and inner peace!


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How I Won The Biglaw Health Fair


Yesterday, as part of Biglaw’s wellness initiative we had a voluntary health screening.  Guess what?  I’m pretty sure I won.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m really not a competitive person. I compete only against myself…unless it appears I may actually be able to win.  ALso, I do not know for sure that I won because I’m pretty sure it would be HIPPA violation to actually ask the questions I would need to ask to determine if I did in fact win, but I’m pretty sure I did. Let’s say, 99.9% sure.  

The health screening was for the basics.  It tested cholesterol, triglycerides, BMI, blood pressure and a few other basics.  I just had all this stuff done, plus more, a few months ago.  I had a full panel because I was so tired all the time I thought I might be dying. I pretty much knew my stats so were it not for the extra contribution to my HSA for participating I wouldn’t have done it.  I got my finger poked, got my arm squeezed, got on a scale and had some measurements done.  I sat around and waited for my results dreading what they would likely say about my stress level.  I wondered if the fact I took my coffee with me to the health screening would skew my results.  Finally, the nurse called me over.  My results were in.

As we went through my numbers the nurse was positively gleeful.  She could barely contain her excitement as we went category by category through my near perfect scores.  I asked the nurse if there was more stuff we could test.  I asked her if we could test my platelets and vitamins.  Maybe my iron levels.  I mean, I was on a roll, I’ll bet I kicked that vitamin D deficiency’s ass.  My platelets were probably perfect now. Lets just test the hell out of everything. She said, no, that she was sorry but the categories on the paper were the only things they could test that day.  She told me to just keep doing what I’ve been doing and told me to have a great day.  

Keep doing what I’m doing? Did she really just say that? I started waiving my results around and said to her, do you know what it takes to get these numbers?  Do you want me to tell you what I’ve been doing?  I’ll tell you it is really hard work.  Like really hard. My voice started to raise, I became animated.  At that moment the office manager who was overseeing the event created a diversion, she told me she was pretty sure IT finally had time to talk to me about my computer. I told the nurse I had to go talk to the IT guy but I would come back and tell her what it takes to have the numbers I have.  She said oh no, that was ok, she was pretty sure she would be gone by then.  I said, are you sure?  You don’t want to hear about how hard I work to have those perfect numbers.  She said, with a nervous smile oh no…you just keep right on doing what you are doing.


Keep doing what I’m doing?  She didn’t want to hear about so I will tell you, dear reader.

Do you know how exhausting it has been to be doing what I am doing?  Do you know how much time, money and energy I put into “healthy living”?  I have cleansed for 30 days, de-sugared for 21 days, drank oceans of water, invested large sums of money in a juicer and a vitamixer, and spent endless hours sweating my heart out at Bikram yoga. I have de-toxed even though I don’t even really know exactly what that means. I have spent hours educating myself about the horrors of candida, high fructose corn syrup, gluten, hormone infused chickens, and mercury soaked fish.  I have also become as obsessed with what I put in my body as what I put on my body.  Although that is the subject of another blog, suffice it to say that you have to be equally careful about the crap you put on your skin as you have to be about the crap you put into your mouth.   There are actually skin care products out there made of oil derived from boiling dead animals found on the road. It clogs up your pores and your internal organs absorb the road kill through your skin within minutes of putting it on your body. It’s gross. I have read books, blogs, articles and watched very disturbing documentaries on Netflix.  Keep doing what I’m doing?  I’m broke, grossed out and exhausted!

chicken-liberationMoreoever, I’m affraid I have become one of those people. And what is worse than that, is those people know that I am now one of those people. Someone was complaining at yoga about the vitamins they are taking and asked what kind I use. She actually said, you obviously take vitamins too. I just nodded and told her the name of the vitamins. The reality is my 30 day supply has lasted me four months but I do take them. The lady at the baby shower whispered in my ear that she was both gluten free and dairy free. She had the same look of panic and dread on her face at the buffet table that I had but she told me like she was sharing a secret that she was super proud of…like that she was dating Bradley Cooper and George Clooney. Gluten Free and Diary Free. She couldn’t eat anything but the peaches. Thank god she wasn’t de-sugaring. I said I thought it was appropriate to have the cucumber sandwich even though it was on bread and maybe just not make a big deal about it since it was really nice of the hostess to make heart-shaped cucumber sandwiches. She was horrified. But hey, at least I didn’t eat the peaches. I mean, I think giving up sugar is morally superior to giving up gluten, so again, I won.

chicken1Keep doing what I’m doing? Well that really isn’t the greatest prize for winning the Biglaw health fair. But what I am doing does seem to be working. I do like my numbers and I do feel better. With all the daily stress in my life, it is somewhat of a miracle my numbers are as good as they are so I guess there is something to this gluten-free, dairy-free, anti-sugar, free range chicken and sweat-till-you-puke-yoga life style I have fallen into. I guess it is worth it and will continue the daily grind of carrying around water bottles and tediously cleaning the Mercedes of juicers.


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“I’m Just Another (Yoga) Heart In Need of Rescue…”

whitesnakecar2I have little tricks to get me through my Bikram Yoga classes.  If you do Bikram Yoga regularly you do too.  Do you ever look at yourself in the mirror after the push up at the end of the spine strengthening series and think to yourself, holy shit…I could be in a Whitesnake video?  I actually do.  I admit it.   I do.  One of my deepest, darkest, yoga secrets is what I like to think of as the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl.

What, you ask, is the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl?  You know the part after the spine strengthening series when you are supposed to “push up and move to the top of your mat”?  This is my least favorite part of class.  It’s not camel.  It’s not triangle.  It’s this weird little transition.  Sometimes when I transition from the floor to the top of my mat I undo my messy bun, flip my sweat drenched hair out of my eyes, look at my mascara smeared eyes and feel as if I missed my true calling.  I should be married to an 80s rock star doing yoga on the hood of his car.  And sometimes, if no one I know is nearby and the teacher is on the other side of the room, I do the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl.  No one else sees it.  No one pays attention to me in class and I hide in the corners.  And it is very subtle.  You would have to know what to look for.

whitesnakeMost people don’t know what to look for because most people have no idea what I am talking about.  If you are old enough to know of Whitesnake you probably have forgotten about them.  Most of you probably just don’t know at all.  For those of you sad people who fall into that category,  here is a little history lesson.  Whitesnake was a band in the 80s.  They sang a song called “Here I go Again on my Own.”  Whitesnake made a video.  The video had an amazingly sexy woman, Tawny Kitaen.  Tawny Kitaen crawled around on the hoods of two jaguars parked next to each other.  Tawny Kitaen did not just crawl around on the hoods of the jaguars but also did the splits and cartwheels on the jaguars.  Let me emphasize that—she did cartwheels on the jaguars.  She was married to David Coverdale the lead singer of Whitesnake.  They got divorced in 1991.  She subsequently went to jail and rehab.  But she will always have the glory of being known as the “Whitesnake car girl”. No one can take that away from her.  You should know this and you should be ashamed of yourself if you don’t.

Here is why I really do the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl.  It’s not because I think I should be crawling around on jaguars while 80s rock stars sing to me.  I mean, that would be awesome but I’m 41.  Those days have passed for me.  I’m old and injured.  The Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl is not an attempt to recapture the daydreams of my youth.  The truth is it actually takes a minute for me to make my body move when the spine strengthening series is over.  I have a semi-serious SI joint issue and I get stuck in that transition.  When I get stuck it hurts.  And when it hurts I have to think about something else.  I choose to think not about the pain in my hip or the surgery I am avoiding but rather to channel my inner Whitesnake car girl.  I don’t think she had SI joint issues.  Although after re-watching the video I think she likely does now.  It certainly doesn’t look like her hip hurt then though.  However, if it did, she sure didn’t let it show and it did not stop her.  She powered through and went on to make out with her 80s rock star husband in the back of the same car, apparently while it was moving.  She was a sexy, badass.

Little did I know in 1987 that this would become my theme song and has and will be blasted from various car radios, walkmen, CD players and ipods for years. It’s the ultimate break up song.  And little did I know in 1987 that in 2013 I would think of this video almost every day at yoga class.  I hope David Coverdale knows the profound impact he has had on my life.

So if you ever look over to my corner and wonder why I’m frozen in a strange position, it’s whitesnakecarprobably because I am imagining myself doing the Whitesnake Yoga Mat Crawl.  I ask you not to judge me and simply to respect my moment.  The same way I respect your moments.  We all have them.  We all have our little tricks to get us through.   Yours may not involve Whitesnake but you know you have them.  Do whatever it takes.


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darly4I am not spontaneous.  Not one little bit.  And not when it comes to running.  So when I said yes at 9pm to a 5K the next morning (in less than 13 hours) it was a little out of character.  It came about something like this:

Text message from T:  Do you want to run the Zombie Apocalypse with Angela tomorrow?

Me:  I don’t know, do I?

Text message from T:  Of course you do, there will be zombies.

Me:  Ok.

This is not what I do.  I am very serious and contemplative.  I do not make rash decisions.  And moreover, I don’t run trails.  I don’t do runs with obstacles.  And I don’t do zombies.  Well…not on purpose anyway.  Sometimes it just ends up that way.

Nevertheless, I made a knee jerk decision to run a 5K obstacle run while being chased by zombies in the hills of the North Valleys the next morning with Angela.  I stopped drinking the cranberry-cherry-strawberry flavored vodka and diet soda I was enjoying and went to bed.  I watch the Walking Dead.  I am well aware that it would not be wise to knowingly go into the zombie apocalypse hung over.

The next morning I left 2 hours before the race because I hadn’t pre-registered.  I always pre-register.  I mean what if they run out of t-shirts?  Who waits till the last-minute like that?  I found Angela, got my t-shirt (phew) and wandered around stressing out.  This was my first race since my marathon in October.  I was still in marathon start mode and I was freaking out.  I didn’t bring water with me.  Would there be water on the course? Oh my God, I didn’t even know.   I didn’t bring Gu. I didn’t have sunscreen or even lip gloss.  Lip gloss is my running essential.  I debated whether or not to run with music.  If I was in an Usher induced fantasy, would I be aware of the zombies sneaking up on me?  I questioned my decision to wear my super cute lavender running shoes.  There is a trail and maybe obstacles that would get my beloved lavender shoes dirty.   I should have worn old shoes.  What was I thinking?

Here is what I was thinking.  I was thinking I love all things zombies.  And I was thinking I really needed to have some fun.

006Someone recently told me that my love of the Walking Dead is infantile.  Infantile!   I am certain this individual could not really mean what he said.  The zombie apocalypse is upon us and we all need to be prepared.  I believe these comments are spawned by pure, insane, jealousy.   This individual is secretly in love with me, despite his very loud statements to the contrary, and is jealous that I refer to Daryl Dixon as my future husband.  His masculinity is threatened by the fact that I post pictures of Norman Reedus with kittens on my friend’s Facebook page.  It is unfortunate he feels this way.  I simply won’t be able to save him and his children in the apocalypse.  They will be unprepared and they will be dead weight.  We will see who was infantile then, won’t we?

So I ran the zombie apocalypse 5K with Angela and had a blast.  There were trails.  There were obstacles.  My lavender shoes got dirty.    And there were zombies.   It was a 45 minute escape from reality that I desperately needed.  And we both decided that if the zombie apocalypse is only a 5K it will be totally doable.  I was fine without water and Gu.  And believe it or not, I was fine without lip gloss.

We live in a stress filled, heart breaking and unforgiving world.   Find some fun where you can. And let your friends, girlfriends and definitely-not-girlfriends-because-you-are-affraid-to-make-a-commitment find their fun too.  Be spontaneous…whatever that means to you.



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Hug A Runner!

Boston Deals With Aftermath Of Marathon ExplosionsI need a hug. I think I’m not alone.  I haven’t really been able to talk about what happened at the Boston Marathon.  Because I’m a marathoner, I’ve had a lot of people check in with me to see if I’m doing ok but I haven’t  talked about it.  Not really.

I went for a run this morning like almost every morning and didn’t really think about it.   I was running along, trying to keep my idiot dog from chasing the bunnies like usual.  Thinking about all the crap I need to do.  Hoping my son will make it through the school day and get his biology done.  Obsessing about why the scale has budged even though I gave up Starbucks and Vodka.  Good God, what will it take?  I pick up the pace as a result of the obsessing.  Charlie and I ran our regular course that takes us by my son’s middle school.  I didn’t even think about Boston until I saw the flag.  Then it hit me and I started to hurt.  Not just in my heart but everywhere.  I hurt and I started to really think about why.  I think it took me a few days to process.

Yes it is a terrible tragedy and everyone with a heart or any level of humanity hurts on some level.  But this time it is different for me.   This isn’t the regular national tragedy hurt.  How awful that we now have so many national tragedies that I can recognize the hurt as different?  This is more personal hurt.  I think I know why.

I am blessed to have finished seven marathons in my 41 years on earth.  I say blessed because it is a blessing to be able to complete 26.2 miles of running.  Sure it is hard work and determination but as I get older I realize it is a blessing to have the strength, stamina and the heart of a runner.  Not everyone can do it and after my last marathon in October I understand that better than I did before.  Honestly I don’t know if I can do it again.

Now, seven marathons is an accomplishment but not one of those marathons was Boston.  And without a significant act of God and a serious breast reduction surgery it is highly unlikely I will ever qualify for Boston.  I think as it stands now, my best marathon time might qualify me for Boston if I was 80.  I was stunned today to hear someone say that they didn’t realize the Boston Marathon was such a big deal.  I explained, probably in too much detail the significance of the Boston Marathon.  Boston is BOSTON.  It’s it.   But it doesn’t hurt so much because it was BOSTON.  It hurts so much because it was a finish line of a marathon.

Although it is not likely I will ever be at the Boston Marathon finish line, I have been at the finish line of a lot of big races.  I have been at finish lines with my dearest friends.  My family has waited for me at those finish lines.  One boyfriend would have waited for me at one of these finish lines but he had Bloody Marys while I was running so he actually went to the wrong finish line but I think that counts–maybe.  My son has waited for me at those finish lines.  I know those people.  It hurts because it was a finish line and it hurts because the victims were like us.

I’ve been thinking about those runners who were stopped and didn’t make it to the finish because of the explosion.  I would have been one of them.  I would not have been finished.  I think about them I wonder how many of them were running the race with their running partner.  How many of them didn’t know where their partner was on the course or if they were safe?  My current running partner, Teresa is one of my dearest friends.  Let me tell you, you learn all each others secrets when you meet at 6 am on Sunday mornings to run for hours and hours week after week.  You become best friends by dodging skunks and coyotes and bums in the wee hours of the morning.  Teresa is one of the few people on God’s green earth who gets me.  She knows about my broken heart and my deepest fears.  And more importantly, she is the only person who knows that when I listen to Scream by Usher I imagine he is singing to me.  Like many running partners we don’t stay together the whole race.  Mainly because after 20 miles I start to bug the shit out of Teresa.  What if I didn’t know where Teresa was?  What if I couldn’t find her? What if I didn’t know she was ok?  That is unimaginable to me.

Then I started thinking about their people.   At about mile 25 of a marathon, you know you are going to make it.  It’s a done deal.  Even if you have to crawl the mile to the finish line you will.  Even if you are crying or throwing up, or crying and throwing up at the same time, you are going to make it.  At mile 25 you perk up and start looking for your people.  It’s amazing how you can find them in the crowd of literally thousands.  They stand out like your own shining stars.  At some point in time my people have been where the victims  were.  My Dad has been there.  Teresa has been there.  Teresa’s sister has been there.  My Mom has been there.  My brother has been there.  Taylor has been there although not happily.  His usual response when I finish is “can we go to the pool now?”  But they have all been there.

It hurts so much because I know as a runner,  the people hurt in Boston could be us.  They are us.  They have names.  They are Teresa.  They are Teresa’s sister Angela and her friends Hollie and Meg.  They are Jill, Allison, Shannon, and the rest of the adorable girls from Lady Jaga, my ill-fated Reno-Tahoe Odyssey team.  They are Jules.  They are Krista.  They are Chuck, Marj, Sonia, Carla, Heidi and Scott.  They are Kristina, Peter and Flavia from my law firm’s running  team.  They are my running idols, Dani and Krupski.  They are the random stranger who told me I was  “awesome” and mile 25 last October and made me burst into tears.  She said—to me– “you are awesome!”.  She didn’t even know me.  They are my firefighters in Tuxedos.  I feel like I know these people because have been at finish lines with all of them and their families, friends and maybe even some poor girl’s drunk boyfriend who is actually at the wrong finish line.   They are us.

If you have never been to a finish line you should go sometime.  They are the most inspiring places ever.  Even though I have cried my way to the ice tent because my knee, ankle, Achilles tendon, or hip hurt like they have never hurt before, there is nowhere on this earth that I have ever felt stronger, happier, sexier, prettier, tougher and better than at the finish line. 

004I wonder if the people who did this know how meaningful a finish line is and if that was part of the plan.  I watch Homeland so I know that soft targets are supposed to hit us close to home.  They are supposed to get in our heads and make us afraid to live life.  But I really wonder if they knew the impact it would have on all runners and all people who love runners.  I kind of doubt it and I don’t think it matters to them.  It was just a busy place with lots of people to hurt. 

So I’ve come to the conclusion that it hurts so much because this time it really could have been me.  It could have been us.  It could have been Taylor. And it was one of our best places.

I pray for peace for the victims, the runners, their people and the first responders.  I hope for peace for the rest of us.  I hope if you read this and love a runner, you will give them a hug when you see them.  I think I speak for all of us when I say we need it.


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