I'm going to post 24 things about myself because I am 24. It's not that I just turned 24 or anything. I'm just bored right now and I'm "taking a break" from my homework. (I'd leave off the quote marks if it were actually true.)
1. I have 23 pages left of my graduation-requirement 30-page paper, but I can't seem to find any sense of urgency within myself.
2. All I want to do is eat chocolate. And chips.
3. My "m" key doesn't work super well for some reason, so sometimes I'm typing along and it just doesn't press down all the way and I'm missing an "m" without noticing it.
4. I have yet to find a place to live this summer while I do my internship in Kanab or someone to take over my contract for here in Provo.
5. I'd like to be a snob who doesn't watch a lot of TV, but I've recently realized I'm pretty invested in a bunch of shows and there are more shows I want to watch and I don't care who judges me anymore--I love TV!
6. I have a hard time understanding why some people still like to do research "the old fashioned way" (aka out of books) when every resource they're using is available online in a way more efficient, user-friendly, searchable form.
7. I must be really uninteresting because I can't really think of any other things to say.
8. The desk I sit at during work (where I am now) faces the clear glass walls of the reserve room, and sometimes when I'm staring into space I make accidental, awkward eye-contact with people studying in there.
9. It legitimately took me two whole minutes to remember the name of the reserve room, because all I could think of was the restricted section, a la the Hogwarts library.
10. There are actually a lot of parallels between law school and Hogwarts and it makes me happy.
11. I don't actually understand technology all that well. For example, yesterday I somehow deleted all my Facebook activity clear back to October. I have no idea how it happened and no idea if there's a way to fix it.
12. I'm not very good at being vegan. Some of my friends and I decided I'm really only 95% vegan because I'm vegan except when it comes to milk chocolate. And my friend reassured me it was an acceptable percentage vegan to be.
13. The law library has at least 5 busts of Abraham Lincoln, and three of them are along the same wall, spaced about ten feet apart. They're supposed to be represent different ages of his life but they all look exactly the same to me.
14. The law library is always freezing, except the entry way on the second floor tends to get this really sweaty, musty feel after 5 pm. It's just a patch of the air and once you get further into the room, it dissipates. I think scientists should conduct a study and figure out what it is. Could it be ghosts?
15. I have a sign I put up when I step away from the desk that says I'm helping someone and I'll be right back. I've never put up that sign when I'm actually helping someone. When I put up that sign, I'm going to the bathroom or the vending machine.
16. When I'm running, I don't want to be running, but when I'm not running and I'm thinking about running, I want to be running.
17. The weather report tells me it's starting to get sunny but I don't really have any proof of this because I'm in the law building all day and we're lacking in windows.
18. I'm so cold right now my fingernails are purple, but my jacket is upstairs at my carrel and I avoid stairs as much as possible.
19. I still have a flip-phone...one of the last of its kind. It does not receive video and the screen is small, not lending itself to pictures very well. I do not have internet capabilities. I always say I'm going to get a smart phone "soon" but it would require me to research plans and pay more money and so far I'm okay with my phone. Sure, it randomly freezes and I have to take the battery out (which requires using my keys, because the battery is wedged in there really tightly), but we get along.
20. I am so so so excited to play on a softball team this summer.
21. My favorite flavor of anything is banana. (Unless chocolate is an option.)
22. I know that babies and children aren't exactly always hunky-dorey and can be little hellians sometimes/often and then they grow into teenagers and you want to kill them, but I want to have like a million kids.
23. Wanting to have a million kids and having a million kids and raising a million kids does not make me anti-feminist.
24. And, finally, if ever a man were wondering the most effective way to win my heart, he should know he need only buy me Double-Stuf Oreos and Salsa Verde Doritos.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Random
I'm about as good at blogging as I am at regular journal writing, which is not very good. I got into a groove with my personal journal for a while where I was being so good and writing every week. I know some people write every day, but I am just far too lazy for that. Sorry, posterity. (Should you ever exist.) But I go through these phases where I don't write for a while, and then so much has happened that it's overwhelming to catch my journal up on everything, so I just let it fall by the wayside. Plus there are only two pages left in my journal and I'm waiting until I get a new one to fill up those pages. These are all really just justifications for my laziness. I know that's the real reason and I've come to terms with it.
Last week I was on placement break and though I did not use it for its intended purpose (finding a job), I sure did have a good time. My first act of placement break was, obviously, to hit the road to Rexburg. I know that everyone thinks my love for Rexburg is weird; I don't care. I stopped in Blackfoot to see the lovely Heidi for a few minutes (seriously, it was like half an hour). It was too short but definitely worth the stop, as always. And then I hustled on down to Rexburg, where Grace was gracious (see what I did there?) enough to let me sleep on her giant air mattress on her floor and laugh with her about how truly psychotic her roommate is. I got to see my fave of all faves Kay Lynn every day I was there (I was explaining to several people that going more than a month without her makes me cranky), eat at the ever-delicious Mill Hollow, see ol' Smellanie, and, of course, that dude I've been tight with for like a year and a half. He makes me want to punch him in the throat sometimes, but he's probably in my top 5 best friends ever. He even let me proofread a paper...the best way to win my loyalty. (Though he rejected some of my changes and argued with every single one.) And I got to visit the Reading Center and see my idol, Sis. E! She was only in the office for a little bit on Tuesday morning because she decided to come in "just for a bit" before she had "minor surgery." Um...what? She is crazy and I love her and she sassily told me to never come back to Rexburg and I just aspire to be her. And I got to see Kylee for the first time in almost two years! She got home from her mission in November but was in California and then she went back to school in January and this was the first time we got to see each other. We didn't get to spend a ton of time together because she was gone all weekend but we'll have plenty of time all summer.
I spent the end of placement break in Portland at state wrestling cheering on my baby brother and the rest of the Heppner boys. Six of our guys made it to state this year, a record for us. That's a huge deal, considering this is only the 4th or 5th year the high school has had a wrestling team and especially because there are only about 12 guys on the team. Four of the six qualifiers were district champs! Jared is a junior, and he placed 2nd his freshman year and 3rd last year, and we were expecting along the same lines. He won his first match on Friday afternoon by pinning the kid in the first round, so he didn't have to wrestle again until Saturday morning. If he won that match, he'd be going on to the finals Saturday night; if not, he'd have to wrestle twice more to place either third or fourth.
Well, during his second match, Saturday morning, he was wrestling along when suddenly...he was completely limp on the mat and the kid was flipping him over. What?? He was out cold. It was hard to tell what was going on from the stands, but later we found out he had gone to shoot, missed the kid, and smacked his forehead on the mat, which knocked him out right away. Luckily the ref saw it happen and stopped the match. He was lying on the mat and Dad and Brian and a trainer were out there, and then he stood up and they looked him over a little more and the match continued. He ended up losing by 2 (and we're pretty sure he lost consciousness again toward the end), which meant he'd have to wrestle the very next round to qualify for the third/fourth place match and then wrestle that match to see what place he'd get. We were bummed he wasn't going to finals, but overall unconcerned with his chances; the kid he'd wrestle to see who went on for the semifinals was the kid he'd beat in the finals at districts and the kid he'd wrestle for third and fourth was a nobody. 3rd place at state isn't exactly shabby.
But then Dean let us know that Jared had been medically disqualified; the rules mandate disqualification if a wrestler loses consciousness. It's a pretty sensible rule, but that didn't mean we were pleased about it. He had finished the match, he seemed fine--why couldn't he wrestle? DQing him meant he got no place and his season was over two matches early. But there wasn't anything we could do; there was only one tournament doctor and the rules are the rules. From a law student standpoint, I am totally on the doctor's and the tournament's side; you can't have that kind of liability issue hanging around. From a big sister standpoint, I want to tell them to shove it. He wanted to wrestle and he felt fine. He came up to the stands and Mom and I went over to see him, and I'll admit I got just a teeny bit choked up when I saw him sitting there in the stands, crying. Sure, he's a big (well, bigger than I am--not bigger than many other people), stinky, hormonal 17-year-old punk, but he's still my baby brother and I still see him as just a little boy. He told us he didn't remember anything and he hadn't been able to feel his body for the whole rest of the match, so I guess I understand the doctor's concern, but he seemed perfectly (physically) fine the rest of the day. It was really, really disappointing, but we're glad he still has next year. Cherisse is even going to fly in from Hawaii to see his senior year at state. Everyone will be there (most likely minus Alyssa), assuming Brian is still around and not deployed somewhere if he really does join the Army.
Now I'm back at school, with zero motivation to work on my two research papers or do my readings or really focus on anything. I would much rather sleep, run, eat, and sit on the couch in my jammies watching Ugly Betty on Netflix with Renae and Kenzie. But alas, here I am. I'm currently at work for three more hours. So far I have not spoken to a single person. I did my reading for Professional Responsibility (probably the most boring class ever, even rivaling Wills and Estates), and now I'm debating if I'm going to work on my papers or head up to my carrel and get my book to read for International Human Rights. Full disclosure: I will probably end up doing neither, but I will most likely make a trip to the vending machine.
Running is going pretty well. I got new running shoes a few weeks ago and I looooooooooooove them! They feel so good and I got a new running socks, too, and my blisters are almost a thing of the past. I'm down to taping just one toe before every run. My knee hasn't been hurting while I'm running and the pain levels during the rest of the day have been pretty consistent, so that's good. My biggest problem these days is getting bored. It keeps snowing, so I have to run on the treadmill, and I just can't seem to find the determination to push through the boredom to do a long run. Last week my long run should've been 14 miles but I quit after 7 because the gym was so hot and the guy next to me was so smelly and I was just so bored. We'll see how that feels at mile 25 at my next race (Salt Lake Marathon, April 20). I have three marathons on the horizon for this summer, which will put my total marathon count at 5. Originally I thought about going until I hit 10, but lately I'm not so sure. I might stick to half marathons after this summer. Only running 8 miles a day seems a lot nicer than running 8 miles four times a week and a long run between 10 and 20 miles once a week. And honestly, I don't know if I enjoy marathons enough to dedicate myself to the training. It's nice to say I'm a marathon runner; it's nice to have a goal and a plan and stick to it; it's nice to know that my body is in great shape and can do this amazing thing. But I am really tired and my knees hurt. So I might just take some time off or I might give up marathons after September. My future is uncertain. (In pretty much every aspect of my life.)
Grace and I are hoping she can get an exception from the housing office so we can live together this summer in non-approved housing, since I'm not allowed to live in approved housing as a non-student. I'm also hoping to find a job for the summer...minor detail. We're supposed to hear from the housing people tomorrow, so we're keeping our fingers crossed and praying. But really, that job thing is stressing me out. Renae and I are also trying to figure out where we're living next year--Kenzie doesn't know what she's doing after she graduates, so everything is just very up in the air right now and I'm trying not to freak out but not having a plan is really unenjoyable for me. I like to have everything figured out all along so I have no uncertainties in my life. It doesn't always work, but hey, a girl can try.
Last week I was on placement break and though I did not use it for its intended purpose (finding a job), I sure did have a good time. My first act of placement break was, obviously, to hit the road to Rexburg. I know that everyone thinks my love for Rexburg is weird; I don't care. I stopped in Blackfoot to see the lovely Heidi for a few minutes (seriously, it was like half an hour). It was too short but definitely worth the stop, as always. And then I hustled on down to Rexburg, where Grace was gracious (see what I did there?) enough to let me sleep on her giant air mattress on her floor and laugh with her about how truly psychotic her roommate is. I got to see my fave of all faves Kay Lynn every day I was there (I was explaining to several people that going more than a month without her makes me cranky), eat at the ever-delicious Mill Hollow, see ol' Smellanie, and, of course, that dude I've been tight with for like a year and a half. He makes me want to punch him in the throat sometimes, but he's probably in my top 5 best friends ever. He even let me proofread a paper...the best way to win my loyalty. (Though he rejected some of my changes and argued with every single one.) And I got to visit the Reading Center and see my idol, Sis. E! She was only in the office for a little bit on Tuesday morning because she decided to come in "just for a bit" before she had "minor surgery." Um...what? She is crazy and I love her and she sassily told me to never come back to Rexburg and I just aspire to be her. And I got to see Kylee for the first time in almost two years! She got home from her mission in November but was in California and then she went back to school in January and this was the first time we got to see each other. We didn't get to spend a ton of time together because she was gone all weekend but we'll have plenty of time all summer.
I spent the end of placement break in Portland at state wrestling cheering on my baby brother and the rest of the Heppner boys. Six of our guys made it to state this year, a record for us. That's a huge deal, considering this is only the 4th or 5th year the high school has had a wrestling team and especially because there are only about 12 guys on the team. Four of the six qualifiers were district champs! Jared is a junior, and he placed 2nd his freshman year and 3rd last year, and we were expecting along the same lines. He won his first match on Friday afternoon by pinning the kid in the first round, so he didn't have to wrestle again until Saturday morning. If he won that match, he'd be going on to the finals Saturday night; if not, he'd have to wrestle twice more to place either third or fourth.
Well, during his second match, Saturday morning, he was wrestling along when suddenly...he was completely limp on the mat and the kid was flipping him over. What?? He was out cold. It was hard to tell what was going on from the stands, but later we found out he had gone to shoot, missed the kid, and smacked his forehead on the mat, which knocked him out right away. Luckily the ref saw it happen and stopped the match. He was lying on the mat and Dad and Brian and a trainer were out there, and then he stood up and they looked him over a little more and the match continued. He ended up losing by 2 (and we're pretty sure he lost consciousness again toward the end), which meant he'd have to wrestle the very next round to qualify for the third/fourth place match and then wrestle that match to see what place he'd get. We were bummed he wasn't going to finals, but overall unconcerned with his chances; the kid he'd wrestle to see who went on for the semifinals was the kid he'd beat in the finals at districts and the kid he'd wrestle for third and fourth was a nobody. 3rd place at state isn't exactly shabby.
But then Dean let us know that Jared had been medically disqualified; the rules mandate disqualification if a wrestler loses consciousness. It's a pretty sensible rule, but that didn't mean we were pleased about it. He had finished the match, he seemed fine--why couldn't he wrestle? DQing him meant he got no place and his season was over two matches early. But there wasn't anything we could do; there was only one tournament doctor and the rules are the rules. From a law student standpoint, I am totally on the doctor's and the tournament's side; you can't have that kind of liability issue hanging around. From a big sister standpoint, I want to tell them to shove it. He wanted to wrestle and he felt fine. He came up to the stands and Mom and I went over to see him, and I'll admit I got just a teeny bit choked up when I saw him sitting there in the stands, crying. Sure, he's a big (well, bigger than I am--not bigger than many other people), stinky, hormonal 17-year-old punk, but he's still my baby brother and I still see him as just a little boy. He told us he didn't remember anything and he hadn't been able to feel his body for the whole rest of the match, so I guess I understand the doctor's concern, but he seemed perfectly (physically) fine the rest of the day. It was really, really disappointing, but we're glad he still has next year. Cherisse is even going to fly in from Hawaii to see his senior year at state. Everyone will be there (most likely minus Alyssa), assuming Brian is still around and not deployed somewhere if he really does join the Army.
Now I'm back at school, with zero motivation to work on my two research papers or do my readings or really focus on anything. I would much rather sleep, run, eat, and sit on the couch in my jammies watching Ugly Betty on Netflix with Renae and Kenzie. But alas, here I am. I'm currently at work for three more hours. So far I have not spoken to a single person. I did my reading for Professional Responsibility (probably the most boring class ever, even rivaling Wills and Estates), and now I'm debating if I'm going to work on my papers or head up to my carrel and get my book to read for International Human Rights. Full disclosure: I will probably end up doing neither, but I will most likely make a trip to the vending machine.
Running is going pretty well. I got new running shoes a few weeks ago and I looooooooooooove them! They feel so good and I got a new running socks, too, and my blisters are almost a thing of the past. I'm down to taping just one toe before every run. My knee hasn't been hurting while I'm running and the pain levels during the rest of the day have been pretty consistent, so that's good. My biggest problem these days is getting bored. It keeps snowing, so I have to run on the treadmill, and I just can't seem to find the determination to push through the boredom to do a long run. Last week my long run should've been 14 miles but I quit after 7 because the gym was so hot and the guy next to me was so smelly and I was just so bored. We'll see how that feels at mile 25 at my next race (Salt Lake Marathon, April 20). I have three marathons on the horizon for this summer, which will put my total marathon count at 5. Originally I thought about going until I hit 10, but lately I'm not so sure. I might stick to half marathons after this summer. Only running 8 miles a day seems a lot nicer than running 8 miles four times a week and a long run between 10 and 20 miles once a week. And honestly, I don't know if I enjoy marathons enough to dedicate myself to the training. It's nice to say I'm a marathon runner; it's nice to have a goal and a plan and stick to it; it's nice to know that my body is in great shape and can do this amazing thing. But I am really tired and my knees hurt. So I might just take some time off or I might give up marathons after September. My future is uncertain. (In pretty much every aspect of my life.)
Grace and I are hoping she can get an exception from the housing office so we can live together this summer in non-approved housing, since I'm not allowed to live in approved housing as a non-student. I'm also hoping to find a job for the summer...minor detail. We're supposed to hear from the housing people tomorrow, so we're keeping our fingers crossed and praying. But really, that job thing is stressing me out. Renae and I are also trying to figure out where we're living next year--Kenzie doesn't know what she's doing after she graduates, so everything is just very up in the air right now and I'm trying not to freak out but not having a plan is really unenjoyable for me. I like to have everything figured out all along so I have no uncertainties in my life. It doesn't always work, but hey, a girl can try.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Yeah, Mr. White! Yeah, science!
Sometimes, I'm able to sneak into the "science" classification. After all, I'm a sociologist (Really, I am! I have a bachelor's degree and everything!), and sociology is a social science. So, on occasion, I can be like, "Yeah, the sciences! We are cool."
In reality, I am not a scientist. Any science teacher I've ever had (especially Mr. Matykowski for physics my junior year of high school--woof) or anyone who has seen my science score on the ACT can attest to that fact. I like biology, especially human anatomy, but chemistry and physics and usually science in general require a lot of math. I ain't a math person, y'all. Letters--that's where it's at. Hence the law school thing. I must confess I find some joy in basic algebra, because there is an explainable logic to it and there is a right answer, but anything harder is usually beyond me. I took all the math and science required, and I even took more than was required in both high school and college (I may not love math and science, but I am a nerd straight through to my core), but I've never loved either discipline and I never will.
I'm always kind of jealous of girls who are mathematicians or chemists or physics or engineers, though, and I've identified two main sources of this jealousy: occupational prestige and feminism. Occupational prestige, for those of you who would like an explanation because you pursued degrees that might actually lead to some sort of career besides theorizing, case working, or study-conducting (wow, I should probably learn the real word for that) is the level of respect an occupation holds in society. For example, janitorial work has lower occupational prestige than teaching. The highest occupational prestige usually goes to doctors. Let's face it, we like those guys. It doesn't mean that position actually holds more value for the society (I'm more of a structural-functionalism type of gal so I cringe a bit from any role being "better" than another when we actually need them all to keep our society in balance), but people generally have ideas on what careers are better than others. Mathematicians and scientists have pretty high occupational prestige because those are jobs that are important (arguably...what does math REALLY contribute to society, anyway? [I'm kidding!]) and require a lot of schooling/technical knowledge and just seem really hard.
That's why I have any jealousy for mathematicians and scientists in general. But my jealousy for women in those fields stems from feminism. (And maybe because their dating odds are waaaaay better than mine were in sociology and even mine now in the male-majority legal world, because probably at least 80% of my male classmates are married.) These women are breaking into what has long been considered a field only for men! Women tend to lag behind men in the math and science fields even from elementary school. (Though that's starting to change in the younger grades, it's still true in our country by the time students finish high school.) These women are champions for the cause! They're breaking the barriers and getting into male-dominated fields. Votes for women!!
So, it's too late for me to get into science. I can personally get interested in science (actually I probably can't because when I see numbers I want to run away), but I can't change my whole educational/career tract. And I don't really want to, because, you know, I actually do kind of like what I'm doing--that's why I'm doing it. But I can try to get my (possible) daughters into math and science. I'm not talking about forcing them into anything they don't want to do; if I have 100 daughters and 100 of them want to be English teachers, fine. (I will not have 100 daughters.) But am I going to have math flashcards and do science experiments along with getting them hooked on reading? Heck yes! Even if they don't become engineers or chemists, at least they'll be smart. (Right? A girl can dream.)
So, to sum up: I think women in the hard sciences are way cool and I hope I have at least one daughter who breaks into a male-dominated field.
(For the record: I also think male mathematicians and scientists are cool and I admire them a lot, and I would never discourage a man wanting to go into those fields, especially if I had a son doing so. But I am a feminist and these stream-of-consciousnesses happen.)
P.S. I just really want an excuse to be able yell, "Yeah, science!" like Jesse from an early episode of Breaking Bad, from whence comes the title of this post.
In reality, I am not a scientist. Any science teacher I've ever had (especially Mr. Matykowski for physics my junior year of high school--woof) or anyone who has seen my science score on the ACT can attest to that fact. I like biology, especially human anatomy, but chemistry and physics and usually science in general require a lot of math. I ain't a math person, y'all. Letters--that's where it's at. Hence the law school thing. I must confess I find some joy in basic algebra, because there is an explainable logic to it and there is a right answer, but anything harder is usually beyond me. I took all the math and science required, and I even took more than was required in both high school and college (I may not love math and science, but I am a nerd straight through to my core), but I've never loved either discipline and I never will.
I'm always kind of jealous of girls who are mathematicians or chemists or physics or engineers, though, and I've identified two main sources of this jealousy: occupational prestige and feminism. Occupational prestige, for those of you who would like an explanation because you pursued degrees that might actually lead to some sort of career besides theorizing, case working, or study-conducting (wow, I should probably learn the real word for that) is the level of respect an occupation holds in society. For example, janitorial work has lower occupational prestige than teaching. The highest occupational prestige usually goes to doctors. Let's face it, we like those guys. It doesn't mean that position actually holds more value for the society (I'm more of a structural-functionalism type of gal so I cringe a bit from any role being "better" than another when we actually need them all to keep our society in balance), but people generally have ideas on what careers are better than others. Mathematicians and scientists have pretty high occupational prestige because those are jobs that are important (arguably...what does math REALLY contribute to society, anyway? [I'm kidding!]) and require a lot of schooling/technical knowledge and just seem really hard.
That's why I have any jealousy for mathematicians and scientists in general. But my jealousy for women in those fields stems from feminism. (And maybe because their dating odds are waaaaay better than mine were in sociology and even mine now in the male-majority legal world, because probably at least 80% of my male classmates are married.) These women are breaking into what has long been considered a field only for men! Women tend to lag behind men in the math and science fields even from elementary school. (Though that's starting to change in the younger grades, it's still true in our country by the time students finish high school.) These women are champions for the cause! They're breaking the barriers and getting into male-dominated fields. Votes for women!!
So, it's too late for me to get into science. I can personally get interested in science (actually I probably can't because when I see numbers I want to run away), but I can't change my whole educational/career tract. And I don't really want to, because, you know, I actually do kind of like what I'm doing--that's why I'm doing it. But I can try to get my (possible) daughters into math and science. I'm not talking about forcing them into anything they don't want to do; if I have 100 daughters and 100 of them want to be English teachers, fine. (I will not have 100 daughters.) But am I going to have math flashcards and do science experiments along with getting them hooked on reading? Heck yes! Even if they don't become engineers or chemists, at least they'll be smart. (Right? A girl can dream.)
So, to sum up: I think women in the hard sciences are way cool and I hope I have at least one daughter who breaks into a male-dominated field.
(For the record: I also think male mathematicians and scientists are cool and I admire them a lot, and I would never discourage a man wanting to go into those fields, especially if I had a son doing so. But I am a feminist and these stream-of-consciousnesses happen.)
P.S. I just really want an excuse to be able yell, "Yeah, science!" like Jesse from an early episode of Breaking Bad, from whence comes the title of this post.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Weekly Wednesday Words
My knees hurt. Both of them. And while I was running this morning I got delicious little stabs of pain through my left ankle. And when I walk my right big toe and foot hurt. Running...yeah. It's been a little rough for me lately. I was sick all last week and ran like 5 miles total, but then on Saturday had a half-marathon that I obviously needed to run. I had already paid. And I'd never done a half. And it's not like 13 miles is that far. Well, I learned a few things: it doesn't matter the distance, a race always always ALWAYS seems never-ending, and (conversely) a half-marathon is a lot more enjoyable than a whole one. After a half-marathon, I am able to move. I am able to think coherent thoughts. I still have some energy left, but I also still get that I-can-eat-that-third-cookie-because-I-had-a-long-run feeling. All in all, my half-marathon experience was quite nice.
However, my general day-to-day running isn't going so hot. I have to run on the treadmill these days because it's dark and cold when I get up to run, and for some reason I'm really having a hard time. It's so so boring. But remember how I halfway trained for my first marathon on a treadmill? It wasn't as bad as this. I can barely get through 8 miles without wanting to die of boredom. Also pain. Soooo much pain while running these days. The aforementioned body parts + my hips and my back and awful chub rub that I got rid of for a little while there before the Teton Dam Marathon when I was actually training hard and feeling great and so skinny and in shape. I'm just so totally lagging in motivation and energy these days and then I get super frustrated because I'm supposed to be a runner! I don't feel I can continue to associate myself with real marathoners when I'm barely logging 30 miles per week these days.
Maybe I just need a break. It would probably be a good idea for my body and maybe it wouldn't be so bad for my mind, either. But then how do I get in a good workout? Sometimes I ride the bike and it's not nearly the same. It doesn't make me sweat as much or breathe as hard or get the energy out of my knees as well as running. And if I'm not dripping with sweat and gasping for air afterward, I don't feel like I even worked out at all. And I really think I might have restless leg syndrome or something, because if I don't run enough my knees just have this jumpiness all day, like an incessant need to bend them, except bending them enough to satisfy them hurts and also running enough to get out the jumpiness tends to hurt. What the heck, knees?! You're putting me in this horrible position all the time.
Another reason I don't want to take time off from running is because I know how hard it'll be to get back into it. I still remember how hard it is to start your running life and I know how easy it would be for me to just fall back into a life of laziness because it's so much easier and less painful and less sweaty and less expensive because I'm not spending so much money on running clothes and races and tape and sports bras and knee braces and physical therapy and gym memberships and shoes and hydration belts. Sheesh, until I listed all that I didn't really realize how much money really goes into my running habit. But I would also be a whole lot more unhappy. Basically, I have a love-hate relationship with running and right now it's getting hard and frustrating because I know what I'm capable of and what I'm doing aren't lining up right now. (It's the same way I feel about school.) I really, really need new running shoes--I have definitely gone over 300 miles in the two pairs of shoes I have that I alternate. One pair is completely worn down so there's almost no tread left. I know my awful shoes are contributing to my running pain, but good shoes are so expensive and I am poor! I have been saying I'm going to get new shoes since August. That doesn't seem like that long calendarly (yep, just made up that word), but running-wise that is pretty much FOREVER. I was due for new shoes in about August, but since then I have run a marathon and a half-marathon and all the running in between in those same shoes. Oops. Sorry, body.
Basically this blog post has been somewhat pointless except for me to highlight my frustration with my running these days. I know I won't actually take time off running, because if I go more than two days without running I get this sort of desperate, worried feeling that I'm going to DIE if I don't run soon. I know that's a bit weird but I don't care. I have freaking buff legs and if for some reason I needed to run really far without stopping at a fairly quick pace (I don't know what that reason would be--apocalypse, maybe?), I could do it, so I suppose I'll stick to running. This is just one of those times when I need to suck it up and get back into my groove.
However, my general day-to-day running isn't going so hot. I have to run on the treadmill these days because it's dark and cold when I get up to run, and for some reason I'm really having a hard time. It's so so boring. But remember how I halfway trained for my first marathon on a treadmill? It wasn't as bad as this. I can barely get through 8 miles without wanting to die of boredom. Also pain. Soooo much pain while running these days. The aforementioned body parts + my hips and my back and awful chub rub that I got rid of for a little while there before the Teton Dam Marathon when I was actually training hard and feeling great and so skinny and in shape. I'm just so totally lagging in motivation and energy these days and then I get super frustrated because I'm supposed to be a runner! I don't feel I can continue to associate myself with real marathoners when I'm barely logging 30 miles per week these days.
Maybe I just need a break. It would probably be a good idea for my body and maybe it wouldn't be so bad for my mind, either. But then how do I get in a good workout? Sometimes I ride the bike and it's not nearly the same. It doesn't make me sweat as much or breathe as hard or get the energy out of my knees as well as running. And if I'm not dripping with sweat and gasping for air afterward, I don't feel like I even worked out at all. And I really think I might have restless leg syndrome or something, because if I don't run enough my knees just have this jumpiness all day, like an incessant need to bend them, except bending them enough to satisfy them hurts and also running enough to get out the jumpiness tends to hurt. What the heck, knees?! You're putting me in this horrible position all the time.
Another reason I don't want to take time off from running is because I know how hard it'll be to get back into it. I still remember how hard it is to start your running life and I know how easy it would be for me to just fall back into a life of laziness because it's so much easier and less painful and less sweaty and less expensive because I'm not spending so much money on running clothes and races and tape and sports bras and knee braces and physical therapy and gym memberships and shoes and hydration belts. Sheesh, until I listed all that I didn't really realize how much money really goes into my running habit. But I would also be a whole lot more unhappy. Basically, I have a love-hate relationship with running and right now it's getting hard and frustrating because I know what I'm capable of and what I'm doing aren't lining up right now. (It's the same way I feel about school.) I really, really need new running shoes--I have definitely gone over 300 miles in the two pairs of shoes I have that I alternate. One pair is completely worn down so there's almost no tread left. I know my awful shoes are contributing to my running pain, but good shoes are so expensive and I am poor! I have been saying I'm going to get new shoes since August. That doesn't seem like that long calendarly (yep, just made up that word), but running-wise that is pretty much FOREVER. I was due for new shoes in about August, but since then I have run a marathon and a half-marathon and all the running in between in those same shoes. Oops. Sorry, body.
Basically this blog post has been somewhat pointless except for me to highlight my frustration with my running these days. I know I won't actually take time off running, because if I go more than two days without running I get this sort of desperate, worried feeling that I'm going to DIE if I don't run soon. I know that's a bit weird but I don't care. I have freaking buff legs and if for some reason I needed to run really far without stopping at a fairly quick pace (I don't know what that reason would be--apocalypse, maybe?), I could do it, so I suppose I'll stick to running. This is just one of those times when I need to suck it up and get back into my groove.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
If a tree falls in the forest...
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound? A deep philosophical question. More applicable to most college students is the age-old question, "If you fart while wearing headphones, is it still audible?" Well, to the guy on the computer right next to my desk at work: yes. I indeed heard that and giggled, able to do so without embarrassing you because I am too short to be seen over the computer screen. Or even the bookshelf by my desk.
Wednesdays are sooooooo loooooong for me. I go to three classes (an hour and 15 minutes each--a super random length of time that somehow seems infinite) and then sit at work for six hours. It really makes me feel bad for people who are full-time students and work full-time as well. I only have to do it one day a week (actually I really do it no days a week, since 6 hours of work is not full-time) and it kills me. I really like my job, for several reasons, which I will now list:
-It looks super impressive on my resume.
-I learn a ton about legal research, which will (hopefully) come in handy in my future.
-I get paid $11.75 per hour.
-When no one needs my help and I have no projects for professors, I get to study. (This describes 80% of my work time and 99% of my Wednesdays.)
So obviously it is a great job and I am super lucky to have it and I know this and I appreciate my job. But for real, I have been here for 5 hours already and so far I have spent a grand total of 10 minutes actually doing work--I took a book to a professor (on the 5th floor, which makes me huff and puff up all those stairs on a regular day anyway, but I currently have no use of my nasal passages so I sounded like freaking Darth Vader once I got up there and actually stopped to catch my breath before embarrassing myself in front of my professor) and looking up the call number to a legal treatise on worker's compensation for a guy who claimed to be an attorney but was wearing a backwards hat and carrying a side bag, characteristics which describe 60% of the unmarried guys in my class (which is probably like 8% of the total males in my class). (I seem to be really into percentages today.) (Also parentheses.)
So, you may ask, what do I do with the other time at my disposal whilst getting paid? I'm glad you asked. Let me tell you. (I'm also really into lists today, apparently.) Today, I:
-Did my reading for Monday's First Amendment class (only 8 pages; what is this, Christmas??)
-Did my reading for Wednesday's Criminal Procedure class (only 24 pages; also very short! We don't have class Monday but it's not like I had anything else to do so I did my reading...that makes me sound like I really have it together but don't be deceived.)
-Did a whole lot of Facebooking, including stalking random people (of course).
-Looked at pictures of baby animals.
-Went to the bathroom three times.
-Took a trip to the vending machine for some Wheat Thins.
-Read some recipe blogs and salivated over the pictures with full knowledge that I am far too lazy to ever make any of those things.
-Did not look at/talk to my secret crush when I passed him on the stairs. (In my defense, this was on the way up to the 5th floor and I needed to save my breath/my sick voice sounds like a boy going through puberty/I've never spoken to him before so I don't know why we'd be friends now. Plus I'm pretty sure he harbors some bitterness form when I totally showed him up at a 10k last year.)
-Didn't hear/comprehend a guy's greeting to me until he was already gone. (He told me to have a good evening but all I got was whisper whisper mumble -ing so I just smiled and mumbled something unintelligible back in hopes that his brain would fill in a socially acceptable response for me.)
I thought all this would eat up more time, but I still have half an hour to go. Back to Facebook stalking it is.
Wednesdays are sooooooo loooooong for me. I go to three classes (an hour and 15 minutes each--a super random length of time that somehow seems infinite) and then sit at work for six hours. It really makes me feel bad for people who are full-time students and work full-time as well. I only have to do it one day a week (actually I really do it no days a week, since 6 hours of work is not full-time) and it kills me. I really like my job, for several reasons, which I will now list:
-It looks super impressive on my resume.
-I learn a ton about legal research, which will (hopefully) come in handy in my future.
-I get paid $11.75 per hour.
-When no one needs my help and I have no projects for professors, I get to study. (This describes 80% of my work time and 99% of my Wednesdays.)
So obviously it is a great job and I am super lucky to have it and I know this and I appreciate my job. But for real, I have been here for 5 hours already and so far I have spent a grand total of 10 minutes actually doing work--I took a book to a professor (on the 5th floor, which makes me huff and puff up all those stairs on a regular day anyway, but I currently have no use of my nasal passages so I sounded like freaking Darth Vader once I got up there and actually stopped to catch my breath before embarrassing myself in front of my professor) and looking up the call number to a legal treatise on worker's compensation for a guy who claimed to be an attorney but was wearing a backwards hat and carrying a side bag, characteristics which describe 60% of the unmarried guys in my class (which is probably like 8% of the total males in my class). (I seem to be really into percentages today.) (Also parentheses.)
So, you may ask, what do I do with the other time at my disposal whilst getting paid? I'm glad you asked. Let me tell you. (I'm also really into lists today, apparently.) Today, I:
-Did my reading for Monday's First Amendment class (only 8 pages; what is this, Christmas??)
-Did my reading for Wednesday's Criminal Procedure class (only 24 pages; also very short! We don't have class Monday but it's not like I had anything else to do so I did my reading...that makes me sound like I really have it together but don't be deceived.)
-Did a whole lot of Facebooking, including stalking random people (of course).
-Looked at pictures of baby animals.
-Went to the bathroom three times.
-Took a trip to the vending machine for some Wheat Thins.
-Read some recipe blogs and salivated over the pictures with full knowledge that I am far too lazy to ever make any of those things.
-Did not look at/talk to my secret crush when I passed him on the stairs. (In my defense, this was on the way up to the 5th floor and I needed to save my breath/my sick voice sounds like a boy going through puberty/I've never spoken to him before so I don't know why we'd be friends now. Plus I'm pretty sure he harbors some bitterness form when I totally showed him up at a 10k last year.)
-Didn't hear/comprehend a guy's greeting to me until he was already gone. (He told me to have a good evening but all I got was whisper whisper mumble -ing so I just smiled and mumbled something unintelligible back in hopes that his brain would fill in a socially acceptable response for me.)
I thought all this would eat up more time, but I still have half an hour to go. Back to Facebook stalking it is.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Placement Break
In law school, you get a week off each semester. (At least you do at BYU. Having never been to a different law school, I'm not sure if this is a law-school-wide thing.) This is obviously a good thing. I have no school this week. How could that be bad? And since I currently have no class or work on Fridays, I get a 9-day break from school. Woooooo buddy! What, you may ask, have I done with this break? Well, I went to Rexburg, of course. That's what I do.
First I went to Blackfoot to stay with the good ol' Heidi Ho (and her long-suffering husband, Dillon--long-suffering in the sense that he has to put up with me coming to visit semi-frequently [though not frequently enough] and our crazy antics) Thursday night after class and work. We stayed up way too late and ate way too many brownies and watched way too much "My Strange Addiction" because we couldn't watch Lifetime. Just a sidenote: "My Strange Addiction" creeps me out. Then we got up and ate blueberry muffins and drank orange juice and Facebook and blog stalked people. Such goodness.
Then Friday morning I drove to Rexburg, and believe me when I say I was STOKED. I passed familiar landscapes and towns and gas stations (Bob's Kwik Serve, of course) and listened to familiar radio stations and I was actually sort of giggling in excitement from Rigby to Rexburg, which is probably kind of weird/creepy, but I was alone, so I don't care. When I saw the BYU-Idaho/South Rexburg sign, I squealed out loud. I LOVE THAT PLACE. So I took the exit, drove up the hill, smiled at the GORGEOUS sight of farmland and the temple right next to each other, and hopped on over to the Ivy, where Robyn lives and was graciously allowing me to stay. Since it was conference weekend, everyone was gone and I got an awesome parking spot, which is not easy to do at the Ivy because 10 billion people live there and always have 10 billion other people visiting them.
Cut to me calling some of my most important BFFs and spending Friday-Tuesday laughing, smiling, bar-hopping (not for real), listening to good music, watching Breaking Bad, Sunday dinner-ing with Navajo tacos and some of my favorite people, visiting the Reading Center, eating at Ramirez, shopping at Broulim's, running my favorite routes, freezing my little keister off repeatedly, complaining about boys, raiding my friend's closet, talking about grammar, being somewhat awkward, and just enjoying the usual splendors of Rexburg. Good gracious I miss that place and I miss those people.
Wednesday morning I had to drive back because I had to work my usual 3-9 shift, and I was SAD. At the risk of being ridiculously over-dramatic and cheesy, I felt my heart breaking as I drove away. I would even go so far as to say I felt my whole self tugging backward to stay in Rexburg. Yes, self, I know--we want to stay there. But guess what? We are now a grown-up with responsibilities and we've gotta suck it up and leave. Many people find my love for Rexburg strange or even pathetic. This does not bother me in the slightest. The lovely Sis. Engstrom, aka my fave boss ever in the whole world, described it well when she told me sympathetically, "You left before your friends did." And even though this is not 100% true, because some of my friends left before me or have since left, it is largely accurate. I still have so many awesome close friends in Rexburg and it's hard for me to be apart from them. It's not that I don't have friends in Provo--though it's hard for me to make new friends when I feel like all I do is study and then when I'm not studying I'm either running or so daggum tired I don't feel like socializing or meeting new people or doing anything that requires me to not be in my PJs. It's not even necessarily that I don't like Provo itself. Mostly I just don't deal well with change. I'm a slow-adjuster. That should probably be carved on my headstone.
I also have a HUUUUUUGE issue with letting go of things/people. I try not to get attached too often, because when I do get attached to a place or a person or even just an idea, it is super-glued on my heart and it ain't gonna be easy getting it off. One of my favorite quotes is: "Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." (David Foster Wallace) That's me. Once I'm into something, I'm IN. So being pulled from Rexburg before I wanted to be has been tough.
I'll admit, I didn't always love Rexburg. After my first year I wasn't sure I wanted to go back. So I keep reminding myself of that and hoping with time I'll come to love Provo, too. Or, at the very least, not want to cry every time I have to go back after being gone for a while. The moral of the story is right now I'm kind of sad and homesick for Rexburg and if I was not such a responsible/logical/poor student I would probably just go back for the rest of the week/my life.
But I looked at some pictures of baby animals and I definitely felt better. Maybe that's weird but I don't even care. Also I've been silently laughing to myself for the last twenty minutes because a guy on one of the public access computers keeps farting and it's dead silent in here and I can HEAR YOU, buddy! And when I get home Renae and I are going to catch up on the latest episode of Downton Abbey. And I get to go home for Thanksgiving in a little under 6 weeks.
So, to sum up: life is good. :)
First I went to Blackfoot to stay with the good ol' Heidi Ho (and her long-suffering husband, Dillon--long-suffering in the sense that he has to put up with me coming to visit semi-frequently [though not frequently enough] and our crazy antics) Thursday night after class and work. We stayed up way too late and ate way too many brownies and watched way too much "My Strange Addiction" because we couldn't watch Lifetime. Just a sidenote: "My Strange Addiction" creeps me out. Then we got up and ate blueberry muffins and drank orange juice and Facebook and blog stalked people. Such goodness.
Then Friday morning I drove to Rexburg, and believe me when I say I was STOKED. I passed familiar landscapes and towns and gas stations (Bob's Kwik Serve, of course) and listened to familiar radio stations and I was actually sort of giggling in excitement from Rigby to Rexburg, which is probably kind of weird/creepy, but I was alone, so I don't care. When I saw the BYU-Idaho/South Rexburg sign, I squealed out loud. I LOVE THAT PLACE. So I took the exit, drove up the hill, smiled at the GORGEOUS sight of farmland and the temple right next to each other, and hopped on over to the Ivy, where Robyn lives and was graciously allowing me to stay. Since it was conference weekend, everyone was gone and I got an awesome parking spot, which is not easy to do at the Ivy because 10 billion people live there and always have 10 billion other people visiting them.
Cut to me calling some of my most important BFFs and spending Friday-Tuesday laughing, smiling, bar-hopping (not for real), listening to good music, watching Breaking Bad, Sunday dinner-ing with Navajo tacos and some of my favorite people, visiting the Reading Center, eating at Ramirez, shopping at Broulim's, running my favorite routes, freezing my little keister off repeatedly, complaining about boys, raiding my friend's closet, talking about grammar, being somewhat awkward, and just enjoying the usual splendors of Rexburg. Good gracious I miss that place and I miss those people.
Wednesday morning I had to drive back because I had to work my usual 3-9 shift, and I was SAD. At the risk of being ridiculously over-dramatic and cheesy, I felt my heart breaking as I drove away. I would even go so far as to say I felt my whole self tugging backward to stay in Rexburg. Yes, self, I know--we want to stay there. But guess what? We are now a grown-up with responsibilities and we've gotta suck it up and leave. Many people find my love for Rexburg strange or even pathetic. This does not bother me in the slightest. The lovely Sis. Engstrom, aka my fave boss ever in the whole world, described it well when she told me sympathetically, "You left before your friends did." And even though this is not 100% true, because some of my friends left before me or have since left, it is largely accurate. I still have so many awesome close friends in Rexburg and it's hard for me to be apart from them. It's not that I don't have friends in Provo--though it's hard for me to make new friends when I feel like all I do is study and then when I'm not studying I'm either running or so daggum tired I don't feel like socializing or meeting new people or doing anything that requires me to not be in my PJs. It's not even necessarily that I don't like Provo itself. Mostly I just don't deal well with change. I'm a slow-adjuster. That should probably be carved on my headstone.
I also have a HUUUUUUGE issue with letting go of things/people. I try not to get attached too often, because when I do get attached to a place or a person or even just an idea, it is super-glued on my heart and it ain't gonna be easy getting it off. One of my favorite quotes is: "Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it." (David Foster Wallace) That's me. Once I'm into something, I'm IN. So being pulled from Rexburg before I wanted to be has been tough.
I'll admit, I didn't always love Rexburg. After my first year I wasn't sure I wanted to go back. So I keep reminding myself of that and hoping with time I'll come to love Provo, too. Or, at the very least, not want to cry every time I have to go back after being gone for a while. The moral of the story is right now I'm kind of sad and homesick for Rexburg and if I was not such a responsible/logical/poor student I would probably just go back for the rest of the week/my life.
But I looked at some pictures of baby animals and I definitely felt better. Maybe that's weird but I don't even care. Also I've been silently laughing to myself for the last twenty minutes because a guy on one of the public access computers keeps farting and it's dead silent in here and I can HEAR YOU, buddy! And when I get home Renae and I are going to catch up on the latest episode of Downton Abbey. And I get to go home for Thanksgiving in a little under 6 weeks.
So, to sum up: life is good. :)
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Maratón Numero Dos
September 15, 2012, I ran the Top of Utah marathon in Logan, Utah. Let me start by saying it went SO MUCH BETTER than the first one. Since it was in Logan, which is just under two and a half hours from Provo, I went up the night before and stayed in a hotel. My awesome roommate Renae came with me because I didn't know how I'd be feeling afterward and didn't want to have to worry about driving home and dying. Also, I was sad about facing the prospect of running into the finish line alone.
We went up Friday night and got my race packet and then found a place to eat. There had been some traffic, so it was about 7 by the time we got there. We found this little Italian place called Gia's and decided to eat there. (We had wanted to try Chuckarama but the line was super long and we were both hesitant to eat at a place with the word "chuck" in the name.) I got pasta puttanesca, which literally mean's "whore's style." Awesome. I'm all about that. It was really good but goodness gracious, it was SO garlicy. I knew that would come back to haunt me but I had to eat something. They also gave us bread with vinegar and oil, which is funny because that's become something of a staple in our house. I'm not a huge fan of the vinegar and oil, but I sure love the bread.
After a super adventurous trip of trying to find our hotel and driving about half an hour up a canyon and getting lost approximately 6483 times, we got checked in and went to our room. It was pretty swanky. Maybe I'm just easily impressed. Maybe both. But what really made me happy was that they were starting breakfast at 4 am on the 15th so runners could eat breakfast! Yessss. Obviously they were used to people staying there the night before. There was also a free shuttle from the hotel to the park where the buses picked us up and took us to the starting line. When we got to our room, I got ready for bed and tried to zonk out asap.
Keyword: tried. I always have issues sleeping when I know I need to get up early in the morning, and this was a double whammy because of nerves and adrenaline and me stressing about being prepared. I kept thinking through what I'd do when I got up in the morning (get dressed; tape; knee brace; brush teeth; eat breakfast; take an extra banana on the bus; eat the banana at the starting line) and picturing myself running and worrying that my knee would hurt and thinking about my pacing. It was kind of too bad I had to waste that super comfy bed with no sleeping. My alarm went off at the unholy hour of 4:15 (the shuttle to the starting line left at 5). I went through my little routine I'd run through 800 times in my head the night before. I went up to the breakfast place and ate a banana and a piece of toast with peanut butter and honey on it. I successfully got on the bus and got to the park where the buses would take us up the canyon. I even sort of dozed off on the long bus ride.
We got up to the starting line and got off the buses. It was FREEZING. I'm not kidding. It was even colder than the Teton Dam marathon start, which I had definitely not anticipated. I had my trusty long-sleeve men's crew-neck I'd picked out at the Rexburg D.I. before the Teton Dam marathon. It was too big and I chose it because I wouldn't get attached so leaving it behind on the side of the road wouldn't be a problem. It wasn't keeping me super warm. But they had a big heated tent for us to sit in while waiting for race time. I waited in line for about ten minutes to go to the bathroom and then had ten minutes to drink some water, drink some Gatorade, and try not to freeze to death. We all started lining up. I was getting very nervous. The thought of not having my parents driving along to the checkpoints and making sure I was alive and taking my layers and giving me ibuprofen and a granola bar and gross energy gum and running with me when I wanted to die was daunting and scary and sad and I felt kind of lonely and I was cold and I suddenly did not want to do this at all. But luckily before I could get too hysterical, the gun went off. (P.S. The gun was a musket and there were people dressed up as frontiersmen. I still have no idea why; no one provided any kind of explanation for this.)
Since there were about 2 billion people running the race, it took almost two full minutes before I could get to my pace, but once I hit my stride, I was awesome. Seriously. I was running strong and I was running my race and I was golden. The miles passed easily, I was in no pain (well, relatively...there's no such thing as truly NO pain when running, at least for me), and I felt like a machine. I had to stop at mile 4 to go to the bathroom, which was annoying, because I had only been running for like half an hour! Come on! But oh well. My big toe was hurting with every step, right at the knuckle type place, but it wasn't bad enough to make any sort of impact. I was way way ahead of the 4:15 pacer and I felt AMAZING.
I tried some GU at mile 11. It was naaaaaaasty. The strawberry-banana flavor could not mask whatever the nasty underlying taste was, and the gel was kind of a gross texture that I wasn't used to. But it did its job and I was still cruising along. All along the way, I was so much smarter than in my first marathon. I stopped and walked through every water station after mile 11 or so. I took water and, at every two or three miles, I had Gatorade, too. I took orange slices and little bits of banana. I had to stop again for the bathroom at mile 15(? I can't remember) and got a little behind the 4:15 pacer, but I easily passed them and still felt great. I began to entertain the idea of beating my goal of 4:20 by leaps and bounds. At mile 18, a spectator was blasting the Olympic theme to pump us up. It was great. I was still running strong, and I reflected on the fact that I was already past where I'd had my mental breakdown last time. I felt like a superhero!!
Cue mile 19. The ground got kind of uneven and I had to go around a slight bend, and suddenly, with absolutely no warning, my fears were realized: I felt the old stab in my knee. Noooo! But it went away after a few steps. I told myself to calm down. It was just the corner that did it. I was fine. I walked through the next aid station, slugging my water and Gatorade, and then started running again after crushing my paper cup and tossing it in the garbage. (It pleases me to announce that I only threw 3 cups on the side of the road; the rest went into an actual trash can.) OH my knee hurt SO BADLY. This was not good. But again, I hit a stride and the pain eased up. I had slackened my pace a good deal though--going from 9-minute miles in the beginning to 9:20 miles for a while and then 9:30 and now 9:45. Mile 20 brought more steady pain. And finally, mile 21 was where my knee really began to give out. I had to stop to walk somewhere along the mile, not at the aid station.
I started to get really frustrated. Why couldn't I just run the way I wanted? Runner after runner passed me and I wanted to cry. I'd been doing so well. After walking for .2 of a mile, I forced myself to start running again, and I have to admit a few tears did escape because I was in AGONY. Miles 21-24 are sort of a haze of pain and frustration. At some point, the 4:15 pacers got by me and I had to admit defeat on that platform. I would not be running a sub-4:15 marathon. But I was still dead-set on getting my goal of 4:20. I had some more GU at mile...23? I'm not entirely sure where. It was a nice jolt of energy, but what I needed was some ibuprofen. Realistically, though, I knew that no ibuprofen would kick in fast enough to do me any good, so I just needed to be done. There was only one way to make that happen. So I just had to grit my teeth and get through it.
Mile 25 brought an incline up a residential street. WHO PLANNED THAT? I may or may not have been cursing whoever planned the course. Somewhere, like 24 or 25, Renae was waiting and took some pictures. Even as tired and in pain as I was, I was in such better shape than the Teton Dam marathon. I don't know if I'll ever get over the relationship you have with other runners during a marathon. Most of the time, you hit a stride and you sort of have a "pack" of people with your same pace, so you end up running somewhat together and passing each other. There was a guy I'd been playing leapfrog with since my slowdown at mile 21, and toward mile 24 or 25 we started encouraging one another when we'd pass. When I was walking and he passed me, he'd say, "Come on, keep it up!" and slap me on the back as he passed. When he was walking and I passed him, I'd say, "You got this!" and we'd fist pump. It's kind of weird after the fact, but during the race it makes total sense and you don't even think twice. And whenever you see someone walking and you pass them, you encourage them. It doesn't matter that you've never met, it doesn't matter that you'll never actually meet, it doesn't matter that you don't know one another's names or stories or anything--nothing matters because only another marathon runner knows how it feels so only another marathon runner can say things at that point like, "We're getting close!" and not make you want to scream at them. Sorry, spectators, but saying things like, "You look great!", "You're amazing!", or "You're so close!" doesn't actually help. In the beginning it's nice, toward the middle I start thinking, "I do not look great.", and by the end I'm apathetic toward you. (Don't stop encouraging marathon runners, though. It's a really nice dynamic and as a sociologist I love the collective effervescence idea.)
Finally, finally, I knew I was almost done. My Garmin was about .2 of a mile ahead of the mile markers on the course, for some reason, so when my Garmin said 26 miles I told myself, "Just .4 to go. No more stopping. This is happening." I don't remember what my time was at that point, but I knew my goal was in my reach. I was hurting pretty bad, but I was determined that I would totally meet my goal this time.
Seeing the mile marker for mile 26 is actually kind of the worst feeling in the world. There is no feeling of relief, like "Only .2 to go!" No. Instead, I just want to sob because I'm thinking, "I cannot run another step! .2 is forever!" You will seriously never understand how long .2 of a mile can be until you hit mile 26. And at mile 26, the spectators know you have nothing left. They're not smiling while they cheer you on anymore. Most of them look concerned and flat-out terrified that you are going to pass out and die right in front of them. Or maybe that's just when they see me and the panic and horror on my face. One woman actually pointed around a corner and said, "It's right there!" and there was so much pity on her face I'm willing to bet money she had run a marathon at some point. There's just no way to understand if you haven't done it.
Seeing the finish line can almost be as bad as seeing the mile 26 marker, because it's RIGHT THERE but it feels like I absolutely CANNOT get there! And some hotshot came sprinting in and passed me right at the end--literally a DEAD SPRINT. I thought, "If you have that much left at the end, you weren't running hard enough all along!" I had envisioned myself with this nice kick to cross the finish line. Ha. I told my legs to run faster and my pace literally did not change even remotely. I just couldn't run any faster. But I crossed that finish line at 4:20! I was so happy. And just like with the Teton Dam, there's this mess of confusion after you finish--you're done and someone puts a medal around your neck and people are congratulating you and cheering for you and telling you you're awesome and there are a ton of people milling around and you bump into people and you're just wheezing out "Thank you" and "Excuse me" and you have no idea where to go or what to do. I got water, but I didn't want anything else they were offering. They had cheese curds (why??) and Goldfish crackers and chocolate milk and ice cream sandwiches and, worst of all, BBQ ribs. I know many people find BBQ ribs to be fabulous, but after a marathon? After a marathon I don't want to eat anything, and as a vegan, my choices were seriously curtailed. It's okay though--I got my water and red Gatorade (what flavor is that, anyway?) and that's all I wanted. Renae found me and took an oh-so-lovely picture of me with my medal and we headed back to the car. I had texts from people wishing me good luck from the morning. I called home, because they cared the most, and Mom had been getting text updates for some of the miles along the way, so she knew my time already and was excited for me. She was probably the only person who really cared for all the details and everything else. I mean, everyone cares and wants to know how it went and thinks you're awesome, but no one cares like your mom cares. It's just a fact of life.
I was supposed to be checked out of the hotel at noon, but there was no way that was happening. I showered and got ready as fast as I could, and then Renae and I hit the road. I even stayed awake the whole drive! It was not easy, I'll tell you that much. And then we got home (and my legs weren't even that horribly stiff after sitting still for two and a half hours) and my plan to go study fell through. Even when I told myself I was going to go to the library afterward, I knew I probably wouldn't really go. I was hoping I would have the motivation to do it, but I didn't. Oh well. Renae and I watched some Downton Abbey and then I watched some Arrested Development and dozed off on the couch. I was kind of congested, which happened last time, too, and I made myself get up every twenty minutes or half hour or so and walk around so I wouldn't die too completely. I was fast asleep by 10 that night and slept in until 8 the next morning. Bliss.
The aftermath has not been bad! My knee feels fine. My quads have been sort of sore. Honestly, it's nothing like last time and I've been more sore many times! My big toe still kind of hurts--not sure what went on there but it's nothing too awful. I ran today for the first time since the marathon. I only did 4 miles but boy was I tired! I was no inspiration, that much is true. I stopped to walk after every mile and I didn't even feel bad about it. (Okay, I felt a little bad.) All in all, I'm much more proud of this marathon. I will say I prefer the small numbers of Teton Dam, though, but that's definitely in my personality. I've decided my new goal is to at least hit double digits in my marathons. That means only 8 more to go!
We went up Friday night and got my race packet and then found a place to eat. There had been some traffic, so it was about 7 by the time we got there. We found this little Italian place called Gia's and decided to eat there. (We had wanted to try Chuckarama but the line was super long and we were both hesitant to eat at a place with the word "chuck" in the name.) I got pasta puttanesca, which literally mean's "whore's style." Awesome. I'm all about that. It was really good but goodness gracious, it was SO garlicy. I knew that would come back to haunt me but I had to eat something. They also gave us bread with vinegar and oil, which is funny because that's become something of a staple in our house. I'm not a huge fan of the vinegar and oil, but I sure love the bread.
After a super adventurous trip of trying to find our hotel and driving about half an hour up a canyon and getting lost approximately 6483 times, we got checked in and went to our room. It was pretty swanky. Maybe I'm just easily impressed. Maybe both. But what really made me happy was that they were starting breakfast at 4 am on the 15th so runners could eat breakfast! Yessss. Obviously they were used to people staying there the night before. There was also a free shuttle from the hotel to the park where the buses picked us up and took us to the starting line. When we got to our room, I got ready for bed and tried to zonk out asap.
Keyword: tried. I always have issues sleeping when I know I need to get up early in the morning, and this was a double whammy because of nerves and adrenaline and me stressing about being prepared. I kept thinking through what I'd do when I got up in the morning (get dressed; tape; knee brace; brush teeth; eat breakfast; take an extra banana on the bus; eat the banana at the starting line) and picturing myself running and worrying that my knee would hurt and thinking about my pacing. It was kind of too bad I had to waste that super comfy bed with no sleeping. My alarm went off at the unholy hour of 4:15 (the shuttle to the starting line left at 5). I went through my little routine I'd run through 800 times in my head the night before. I went up to the breakfast place and ate a banana and a piece of toast with peanut butter and honey on it. I successfully got on the bus and got to the park where the buses would take us up the canyon. I even sort of dozed off on the long bus ride.
We got up to the starting line and got off the buses. It was FREEZING. I'm not kidding. It was even colder than the Teton Dam marathon start, which I had definitely not anticipated. I had my trusty long-sleeve men's crew-neck I'd picked out at the Rexburg D.I. before the Teton Dam marathon. It was too big and I chose it because I wouldn't get attached so leaving it behind on the side of the road wouldn't be a problem. It wasn't keeping me super warm. But they had a big heated tent for us to sit in while waiting for race time. I waited in line for about ten minutes to go to the bathroom and then had ten minutes to drink some water, drink some Gatorade, and try not to freeze to death. We all started lining up. I was getting very nervous. The thought of not having my parents driving along to the checkpoints and making sure I was alive and taking my layers and giving me ibuprofen and a granola bar and gross energy gum and running with me when I wanted to die was daunting and scary and sad and I felt kind of lonely and I was cold and I suddenly did not want to do this at all. But luckily before I could get too hysterical, the gun went off. (P.S. The gun was a musket and there were people dressed up as frontiersmen. I still have no idea why; no one provided any kind of explanation for this.)
Since there were about 2 billion people running the race, it took almost two full minutes before I could get to my pace, but once I hit my stride, I was awesome. Seriously. I was running strong and I was running my race and I was golden. The miles passed easily, I was in no pain (well, relatively...there's no such thing as truly NO pain when running, at least for me), and I felt like a machine. I had to stop at mile 4 to go to the bathroom, which was annoying, because I had only been running for like half an hour! Come on! But oh well. My big toe was hurting with every step, right at the knuckle type place, but it wasn't bad enough to make any sort of impact. I was way way ahead of the 4:15 pacer and I felt AMAZING.
I tried some GU at mile 11. It was naaaaaaasty. The strawberry-banana flavor could not mask whatever the nasty underlying taste was, and the gel was kind of a gross texture that I wasn't used to. But it did its job and I was still cruising along. All along the way, I was so much smarter than in my first marathon. I stopped and walked through every water station after mile 11 or so. I took water and, at every two or three miles, I had Gatorade, too. I took orange slices and little bits of banana. I had to stop again for the bathroom at mile 15(? I can't remember) and got a little behind the 4:15 pacer, but I easily passed them and still felt great. I began to entertain the idea of beating my goal of 4:20 by leaps and bounds. At mile 18, a spectator was blasting the Olympic theme to pump us up. It was great. I was still running strong, and I reflected on the fact that I was already past where I'd had my mental breakdown last time. I felt like a superhero!!
Cue mile 19. The ground got kind of uneven and I had to go around a slight bend, and suddenly, with absolutely no warning, my fears were realized: I felt the old stab in my knee. Noooo! But it went away after a few steps. I told myself to calm down. It was just the corner that did it. I was fine. I walked through the next aid station, slugging my water and Gatorade, and then started running again after crushing my paper cup and tossing it in the garbage. (It pleases me to announce that I only threw 3 cups on the side of the road; the rest went into an actual trash can.) OH my knee hurt SO BADLY. This was not good. But again, I hit a stride and the pain eased up. I had slackened my pace a good deal though--going from 9-minute miles in the beginning to 9:20 miles for a while and then 9:30 and now 9:45. Mile 20 brought more steady pain. And finally, mile 21 was where my knee really began to give out. I had to stop to walk somewhere along the mile, not at the aid station.
I started to get really frustrated. Why couldn't I just run the way I wanted? Runner after runner passed me and I wanted to cry. I'd been doing so well. After walking for .2 of a mile, I forced myself to start running again, and I have to admit a few tears did escape because I was in AGONY. Miles 21-24 are sort of a haze of pain and frustration. At some point, the 4:15 pacers got by me and I had to admit defeat on that platform. I would not be running a sub-4:15 marathon. But I was still dead-set on getting my goal of 4:20. I had some more GU at mile...23? I'm not entirely sure where. It was a nice jolt of energy, but what I needed was some ibuprofen. Realistically, though, I knew that no ibuprofen would kick in fast enough to do me any good, so I just needed to be done. There was only one way to make that happen. So I just had to grit my teeth and get through it.
Mile 25 brought an incline up a residential street. WHO PLANNED THAT? I may or may not have been cursing whoever planned the course. Somewhere, like 24 or 25, Renae was waiting and took some pictures. Even as tired and in pain as I was, I was in such better shape than the Teton Dam marathon. I don't know if I'll ever get over the relationship you have with other runners during a marathon. Most of the time, you hit a stride and you sort of have a "pack" of people with your same pace, so you end up running somewhat together and passing each other. There was a guy I'd been playing leapfrog with since my slowdown at mile 21, and toward mile 24 or 25 we started encouraging one another when we'd pass. When I was walking and he passed me, he'd say, "Come on, keep it up!" and slap me on the back as he passed. When he was walking and I passed him, I'd say, "You got this!" and we'd fist pump. It's kind of weird after the fact, but during the race it makes total sense and you don't even think twice. And whenever you see someone walking and you pass them, you encourage them. It doesn't matter that you've never met, it doesn't matter that you'll never actually meet, it doesn't matter that you don't know one another's names or stories or anything--nothing matters because only another marathon runner knows how it feels so only another marathon runner can say things at that point like, "We're getting close!" and not make you want to scream at them. Sorry, spectators, but saying things like, "You look great!", "You're amazing!", or "You're so close!" doesn't actually help. In the beginning it's nice, toward the middle I start thinking, "I do not look great.", and by the end I'm apathetic toward you. (Don't stop encouraging marathon runners, though. It's a really nice dynamic and as a sociologist I love the collective effervescence idea.)
Finally, finally, I knew I was almost done. My Garmin was about .2 of a mile ahead of the mile markers on the course, for some reason, so when my Garmin said 26 miles I told myself, "Just .4 to go. No more stopping. This is happening." I don't remember what my time was at that point, but I knew my goal was in my reach. I was hurting pretty bad, but I was determined that I would totally meet my goal this time.
Seeing the mile marker for mile 26 is actually kind of the worst feeling in the world. There is no feeling of relief, like "Only .2 to go!" No. Instead, I just want to sob because I'm thinking, "I cannot run another step! .2 is forever!" You will seriously never understand how long .2 of a mile can be until you hit mile 26. And at mile 26, the spectators know you have nothing left. They're not smiling while they cheer you on anymore. Most of them look concerned and flat-out terrified that you are going to pass out and die right in front of them. Or maybe that's just when they see me and the panic and horror on my face. One woman actually pointed around a corner and said, "It's right there!" and there was so much pity on her face I'm willing to bet money she had run a marathon at some point. There's just no way to understand if you haven't done it.
Seeing the finish line can almost be as bad as seeing the mile 26 marker, because it's RIGHT THERE but it feels like I absolutely CANNOT get there! And some hotshot came sprinting in and passed me right at the end--literally a DEAD SPRINT. I thought, "If you have that much left at the end, you weren't running hard enough all along!" I had envisioned myself with this nice kick to cross the finish line. Ha. I told my legs to run faster and my pace literally did not change even remotely. I just couldn't run any faster. But I crossed that finish line at 4:20! I was so happy. And just like with the Teton Dam, there's this mess of confusion after you finish--you're done and someone puts a medal around your neck and people are congratulating you and cheering for you and telling you you're awesome and there are a ton of people milling around and you bump into people and you're just wheezing out "Thank you" and "Excuse me" and you have no idea where to go or what to do. I got water, but I didn't want anything else they were offering. They had cheese curds (why??) and Goldfish crackers and chocolate milk and ice cream sandwiches and, worst of all, BBQ ribs. I know many people find BBQ ribs to be fabulous, but after a marathon? After a marathon I don't want to eat anything, and as a vegan, my choices were seriously curtailed. It's okay though--I got my water and red Gatorade (what flavor is that, anyway?) and that's all I wanted. Renae found me and took an oh-so-lovely picture of me with my medal and we headed back to the car. I had texts from people wishing me good luck from the morning. I called home, because they cared the most, and Mom had been getting text updates for some of the miles along the way, so she knew my time already and was excited for me. She was probably the only person who really cared for all the details and everything else. I mean, everyone cares and wants to know how it went and thinks you're awesome, but no one cares like your mom cares. It's just a fact of life.
I was supposed to be checked out of the hotel at noon, but there was no way that was happening. I showered and got ready as fast as I could, and then Renae and I hit the road. I even stayed awake the whole drive! It was not easy, I'll tell you that much. And then we got home (and my legs weren't even that horribly stiff after sitting still for two and a half hours) and my plan to go study fell through. Even when I told myself I was going to go to the library afterward, I knew I probably wouldn't really go. I was hoping I would have the motivation to do it, but I didn't. Oh well. Renae and I watched some Downton Abbey and then I watched some Arrested Development and dozed off on the couch. I was kind of congested, which happened last time, too, and I made myself get up every twenty minutes or half hour or so and walk around so I wouldn't die too completely. I was fast asleep by 10 that night and slept in until 8 the next morning. Bliss.
The aftermath has not been bad! My knee feels fine. My quads have been sort of sore. Honestly, it's nothing like last time and I've been more sore many times! My big toe still kind of hurts--not sure what went on there but it's nothing too awful. I ran today for the first time since the marathon. I only did 4 miles but boy was I tired! I was no inspiration, that much is true. I stopped to walk after every mile and I didn't even feel bad about it. (Okay, I felt a little bad.) All in all, I'm much more proud of this marathon. I will say I prefer the small numbers of Teton Dam, though, but that's definitely in my personality. I've decided my new goal is to at least hit double digits in my marathons. That means only 8 more to go!
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