Born To Run

Day: Two Hundred and Sixty

Photo taken on Monday, April 18, 2011 on Clarendon Street in Boston, MA at 332pm. (Pictured: Me, Jamie, and Allan)

I HAVE COMPLETED MY FIRST MARATHON!

And I could not have done it without out the help and drive of the two I am pictured with.

When Allan and Robyn first toss out the idea of me running as Jamie's second coach, I figure, well why not? I don't have a race planned for that day. Besides, when could I ever qualify for the Boston Marathon? I think my age group has to run it in under lightening speed or something equal to that and everyone knows I'm a turtle compared to other women in my category. They ask if I am interested in doing half of it and I quickly agree but once I start training and make it through that first long run of 17 miles, I am hooked. I am in it for the long haul (that and Allan has taken advantage of the mileage to talk me into it, which honestly he had me at, "what's another 10k after these 19 miles, right?").

So once it is established, I make sure Maeve is going to be around for her birthday weekend and what psyches me up for the event even more is that she wants to take Patriot's Day off and be my cheering section! I am floored! I am so looking forward to having a mini fan club at the biggest race I will probably ever run. Steve even takes a day off without pay because he doesn't want to miss me crossing the line for my first 26.2 miler.

Though I almost don't cross...

Everything starts out wonderful but also very cold. I am glad I make the decision to wear my snowman pj bottoms as throw-away clothes (clothes that you discard before a big race that are then scooped up and donated) because it is windy when waiting for the busses to get us at 5 in the morning. The three of us, plus Alie and his three coaches (Randy, James, and Stephen) get on the slightly warmer bus for a ride that feels way more than 26.2 miles.

I am so stoked when we reach Athletes Village and as I clamber off the bus and see all these runners the nerves start to set in. I start wondering if I have enough body glide on and if I'll be able to hit the bathroom before we start in two hours and if I made a big mistake taking on this challenge.

On the trek to the starting line and the other smaller version of the Athlete's Village, I come across a family that has a whole station of first aid stuff set up for free. I am astounded at the generosity of giving out Band-Aids and what not to strangers you don't even know. They even let me crack open a jar of Vaseline and I thank them profusely as I run to catch up with my party. It is the one of the many many MANY fans that have tables like this set up for the runners and the amount of food and beverages that are passed out along the way is great. (But I don't know this yet when we line up with several other runners that get to start an hour before the first heat.)

We witness the great spirit of the Boston by ourselves for the first 8 miles. The only people to pass us so far are the wheelchair runners who are absolutely amazing so all the cheers have pretty much been directed at us as we pass. One particular bar is already half in the bag but call out to the three of us as we pass and Jamie is loving the attention. He's smiling and laughing and we're just cruising and enjoying the gorgeous day.

Then the elite women pass us and they are a sight of beauty. The lead runner has a stride three times the size of mine and the pack that passes right after her have seriously no fat on their bodies so I can see the muscles working and it's fascinating. Two miles later it's the elite men with Ryan Hall in the lead and then it hits us a little bit later...the massive wall of EVERYONE ELSE. It's definitely nerve wracking and I worry I'll lose sight of Jamie so I stick to him like glue. I'm thinking if I run another marathon as his guide I should definitely put a "guide" sign on my back as well to maybe ward of the people who have squeezed in between us already.

By Mile 15 I'm aching a bit. As Allan and Jamie take a bathroom break I shoot off a text to Steve and my dad that I'm in pain. They cheer me on and Maeve sends me a text telling me where they'll be at the end. By Mile 18 I start to cry. The excruciating pain radiating from my right hip is just wearing me down. I've tried to compensate by favoring my left leg but it's not working. My body is giving out but Allan is hearing none of that. He's pulling out all the stops to convince me to keep going and I feel so incredibly guilty that I'm slowing them down because Jamie has hit a good rhythm and I don't want to mess that up for him. Allan gives me an Advil and tells me to run another mile and then we'll discuss me quitting.

Keep in mind we're in Newton right now, the four mile stretch of straight hills, the hardest four miles I will ever run in my career. On my way to Mile 19 a girl hands me a homemade brownie and it's delicious and I am thankful for it since I haven't eaten a thing since 730. But when it comes to discuss my quitting at mile 19, I am nausceous on top of being in pain. Allan goes into his Spibelt which is doubling as a pharmacy at the moment because he pulls out two ginger candies to help. "Let's get through Heartbreak Hill then we'll figure out what to do."

But as I reach the top of Heartbreak Hill, there's nothing to figure out. I am feeling fantastic! Better than I have felt all day! My second wind carries me through the last 10k with ease and I am pain-free when I round the final corner and see the finish up ahead. I am overcome with emotion and think that when I spot my fan club that I will dissolve into a teary mess though when I reach Lord and Taylor I hear her and instead of tears I smile.

There's Maeve, blonde hair and big sunglasses waving enthusiastically at me, holding up her pink phone to snap my picture. I am so happy I end up going faster and I don't catch Steve but I see Robyn, Randy, and Alie in the stands, cheering for us as we cross at 6:01:45.

This is such a fantastic experience and I consider myself so lucky that I am asked to partake in Jamie's first Boston Marathon (I am sure the twins will do it again in the near future!).

Thank you to Robyn and Allan for including me in their training and for letting me be a part of something really awesome! Thank you everyone for all the well wishes and good lucks throughout my month of training and on the big day. And giant hugs to Maeve and Steve-O who help me celebrate with fatty food and good beer directly after being healthy for 6 hours. Much love to all!

^_\

He's evolving!

Day: Two Hundred and Four

Photo taken on Monday, February 21, 2011 in Sai while out shopping in St. James at 719pm.

This is one of our pets, Kabuto. We used to take him on trips with us all the time until we got him another Pokemon friend so now he usually just chills on one of our shelves in the Manga Loft instead.

Though today I go and fetch him before we head out to clean off the snow from our vehicles for old times' sake. I guess I'm feeling a bit nostalgic after the dream I have this morning. Because of my web thinking, I start out with an awesome dream about an anime convention and wake up thinking of Kabuto and the connection from Con to Pokemon is pretty simple but it all rests in one man's hand: the first name on our Infidelity Clause List, Travis Willingham. (He totally held Kabuto in his palm for a silly picture for me at Anime Boston 2009.)

The dream is honestly nothing special but it leaves me feeling calm but not at peace. It makes me confused and I want to figure out what it might actually mean for me and my "future". I'm in a room full of Con goers, some in cosplay, some just milling about in everyday wear when in walks a bunch of voice actors after their panel lets out. A lot of the girls around me get all giggly and start pointing but I'm just minding my own business, sitting on this small bleacher, lazily flipping through a panel schedule. I look up in time to see people parting a bit to make room for Travis as he makes a beeline for me. He plops down in my vicinity and says hello as he starts rifling through a schedule of his own. I nod and offer him a "hey Trav" and then he starts asking me about my work out for the day, making sure I hit my mileage. I feel completely at ease with him like we're buddies but instead of talking work, we're talking about his Tri's and I'm teasing him about his mileage as well.

And then I wake up. I stare at the ceiling. There is only one way I would ever be on that level of comfortability with Mr. Willingham and it would be if I was in the same line of work and judging by my total lack of a fun in medical records, we're not. As cool as it would be to become a voice actor, I have no acting background and throwing my voice around with friends doesn't count. I think about my graphic novel that I would love to create only I can't draw and even my storyboards are pitiful. I just feel so trapped inside my head and I just can't get anything out and on paper. I haven't the time and when I have time, it evaporates before I even knew it was there.

Maybe I'm reading too much into the dream. Maybe Travis is just trying to tell me that I'm slacking in my training and to stop being a lazy ass. But I just can't shake that "at ease" feeling I had in the back of that room, like I belonged there, like I deserved to be there and be happy. I know how badly I want to finish this novel, I know it is an idea that hasn't been done before, I just don't know if I have what it takes to be successful.

I Scream

Day: One Hundred and Fifty Four

Photo taken on Saturday, January 2, 2011 in the Smithtown Friendly's at 329pm.

This picture might look familiar...but this time, Michelle is here to stay! Here's our first Friendly's trip of 2011 and I can guarantee there will be many more this year.

Hopefully we can get our writing group off the ground this month. If anyone is interested in joining up with us that would be awesome! I'm thinking we'll meet once or twice a month at a Starbucks or someone's digs and just read and exchange stories we're all having trouble finishing. Maybe in the new year we can all help each other become the writers we know we have the talent to be!

Yatta!

Day: Thirty Nine

Photo taken Thursday, September 9, 2010 around 9ish while sitting on the Schneider's old leather couch while BLOGging.

I have kept the promise so far to take a picture everyday but I have not been the best about getting them up daily. It is very hard to update with the schedule I keep but I do try. I don't know about you but if I could be like Nakamura Hiro I would totally freeze time and make sure to bring you recent posts day of. But sadly, I am not Hiro-san and superheroes do not exist so this is what you get.

Hubs

Day: Thirteen

Photo taken on Saturday, August 14, 2010 during the cocktail hour of Matt and Jessica's wedding which took place at the Woodbury Country Club.

(Usually Steve is the one to take all of our self portraits so now that I have the responsibility it’s just plain weird. I feel like he has a better reach with his arms than I do.)

A few moments after I finished the daily task, Anna came up to ask me if she could be in the picture for today. I regretfully informed her that I had already done it and she was generally upset. I promised her I could re-do it maybe on the dance floor during the reception but then Steve got upset! He said it wasn't fair because Anna was in the one on Thursday and it was his turn now! As shocked as I was by their outrage I couldn't help being pleased. I do hope more family and friends want to get involved in my self portrait project because their encouragement and support is what makes this all possible. Feel free to be a part of this silliness the next time we get together!

^_\

Goals I Won't Ignore This Time

As I am perusing the old archives in a new fanfiction community I'm currently lurking in, I come across an individual with guts. Someone in her life dared the author of the BLOG Kids These Days Don't Know How To Move Slow to take a daily self portrait for a year. She does not go into specifics of the terms of this dare but she made the choice to post it for friends (and creepy stalkers like yours truly) to witness this unabashed picture taking. I'm impressed with her ability to make each photo different and not just in the angles but in the emotions expressed within each frame. In some shots she even looks like a completely new person! Even though she claims not to be a photographer, I am taken by her creativity and her self-assuredness to put such an intimate part of her on display.

And because of this brave soul, I have been inspired to follow in her footsteps. I am going to take this challenge that her work presents.

Me. The person who never comes out "quite right" in every picture she takes. Me. The one who for the past two times takes her license picture when wearing white so it washes out her complexion. Me. Someone who loathes the sight of herself in the bathroom mirror each morning (and I don't mean just the sight of what I glimpse as I turn to flush the toilet and a half naked me is squinting at my reflection as I reach for the handle...which I promise will NEVER be a self portrait I decide to take). What I do usually take is funny pictures but there's only so much comedy I can hide behind.

No, this time I'm for reals. This time I'm making a goal and actually sticking to it. One picture a day can't possible be that hard for someone as lazy as me right? Maybe this will strap me down and teach me discipline when it comes to deadlines. Maybe this project will kick my ass into finishing all the things I've wanted to accomplish in life whether it is writing a four part Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction to something so trivial as actually putting my college degree to use. This is it folks because if I can't follow through on this then there is no hope for me ever completing anything.

Though I have to laugh, out of all the challenges I have come across, this may very well be the hardest. It is not easy to pay attention to something you don't really like half the time, let alone take an enticing picture of daily.

Day: One

Photo taken on August 2, 2010 in the afternoon inside The Surge at my desk.

I'm a pen chewer. I'm not sure how long I've been engaging in this ugly behavior but I'm pretty sure it started around the time I learned how to write. In middle school I fancied what I like to call "Magic Pens" that write like markers and if you hold it a certain way the ink strokes could be thin or fat making for a really cool effect. What isn't cool is the fact I suck on them so hard the ink comes out the top and into my mouth, staining the center of my bottom lip. That's when I switch to the Bic pens with see through cartridges which are also great until the day I nervously chew through it in math class and cut the inside of my mouth and have to spit out bits of plastic and blood onto the white linoleum floor of St A's. Now if you go to my house you'll find an assortment of pens in a tiki cup on my large desk and you'll quickly be able to discern which ones belong to me and which ones belong to my husband, Steve. My pen chewing has gotten so out of hand lately that I have to take pens from home in order to discourage my coworker's from lifting my writing utensils from my desk. So far it’s worked wonderfully.