Everybody's Working for the Wee-Wee-Weekend!

I bought new running shoes on Friday. I went to Fleet Feet Sports in Piper's Alley. I've never bought running shoes from them before. I waited for 20 minutes, holding a race bib with a "next customer" number on it. I wandered around the store, checking out shoes, triathlon gear (that's just crazy, though one day I would like to participate in one - give me 10 years, or maybe before my 30th year), and watching the general goings on about me while I waited.

I took the bus down North Avenue and then walked down Damen, after depositing a work check in the bank (I really need to get direct deposit -- save the trees, y'know?). Then, I got home and I thought, "Oh man. I really need to call Judy." (My step grandmother who lives in Evanston) So, I did. I expected the conversation to last 5-10 minutes. How silly I was! The conversation lasted about 45 minutes, with the first good-bye said at 30. My mother does the same thing, but I enjoy talking to my mother, for the most part, as she's super silly and says ridiculous things most of the time. Okay, okay. It was nice to catch up with Judy, but at the same time I couldn't help but think of her mean streaks of the past, and I was thinking about how I needed to get going on my run because I had plans to meet friends later in the evening.

This is boring stuff... I went running (IN MY NEW SHOES!), ate a slow dinner, drank some wine, and watched The Soup, then I got ready and went over to my friend's house and hung out outside until it started stormin', then we went inside to laugh, talk, and watch snippets of this Mystery Science Theater 3000 movie, Overdrawn at the Memory Bank with Raul Julia - wasn't really paying attention... but it seemed awful(ly confusing - there was a part where monkeys and giraffes were stumbling drunk around the Sahara). Then I went home and slept.

Saturday I did nothing productive... really, and it was incredible!! Laundry (folded it Sunday), guitar, laziness, Baby's Day Out (sooooo good 2nd time around, you might wish I was kidding, but I'm not, and excellently cast!), Apocalypto (which I didn't love or hate... and the way it was shot reminded me of a PBS special, I kept waiting for a British narrator to describe what was going on when I couldn't read the white subtitles), and sleep.

SUNDAY! I woke up and went for a run, supposed to be 14, but I'm hoping I got closer to 15 as I ran for 2 and 1/2 hours. Oh man, and I definitely should've applied the Vaseline more liberally because I got some chaffage on my underarms (not as bad as this guy). I tried to wish away the pain as I was running. Occasionally it worked and I would have 10-15 minutes of endorphins numbing out the discomfort, then it would strike back with full force. I wasn't the happiest. I had to keep going, I was miles away from home and without my CTA pass. As I ran I thought about the chaffage, I couldn't help myself. I would try to think about anything else; about the old man who was trying to cross the path with his dog and cursed the bikers for riding too fast, about the time Alli and Lisa (two of my best childhood friends) came to visit me over Easter weekend when I was a freshman at DePaul and we took pictures on the pier, and of course, as always, pining after the sweaty men running in front of me until they were out of sight, but it kept going back to the chaffing. And the thought of chaffing kept taking me back to staggering around the finish line after my first marathon. While I was searching for Alli, I walked past a marathoner man and his supportive wife. She gave him a water bottle and a banana and asked him how it went. He said it went well, and that he feels pretty good. Then she said, Oh my! You're bleeding. He said, what? And then I noticed that he had two bloody nipple circles. He said, well, what do you know! That's bad news bears right there! I couldn't imagine how he didn't feel that happening! I was disturbed, and feeling very sore. I took an ice bath, but I'm still walking around like a mummy today, oohing and ahhhing on the stairs. I wish I had a little child or a midget to sit under my chair and massage my calves right now and wiggle my toes and rub aloe vera on my shoulders (they could sit on the chair's arms for that).

I made it home. Showered and biked over to look at an apartment. No, no, no, no! Oh, it was just awful! "Studio-style" for $650. Horribly small with a slanted floor. The woman showing me (the landlord's daughter) mentioned the utilities weren't that expensive. She said all I had to pay for was gas and electricity. She said that they paid for the water. I raised my eyebrow, thinking, really? You pay for the water? I'm pretty sure the city pays for the water, which I'm sure is actually us paying the city in taxes, so the we all pay for water. So, while yes, I supposed you pay for the water, I do, too. Needless to say, I'm not going to live there. On my way home I really hoped that I would find a nice place to live with an affordable rent, in the same neighborhood. That's the clincher right there. I have a feeling it's not going to work out that way and it makes me very, very, very sad. I don't like moving. Moving during childhood has scarred me into believing that life-altering/shattering times are just beginning and this often results in me crying myself to sleep.

On a happier note, I also thought it would be pretty funny to write little stories about my life after spending 1 year in the places that I could potentially live in. Like living in this place for example, I'm fairly confident that my Spanish comprehension would increase ten-fold. And my living standards would be significantly lowered.

What else happened? I went to the grocery store and made some delicious eggs with sauteed spinach dusted with cumin, thyme, Italian seasoning, minced garlic and onion salt for dinner. Then I watched the Simpsons, read a little, and went to bed at 9:30. Call me grandma, and I'll punch you in the face. I was tired.

Jackrabbit Snipers!

I wish I would've walked to school more when I was in high school. I didn't live that far away. Just up the street, about a mile. There weren't any major hills, and it was slightly downhill going to it. I did everything in my power not to walk: rides from friends, friends' parents/siblings, brother. I don't know why. Maybe I didn't want to get all sweaty (Missouri can get quite warm, and quite cold) before class, or because for some reason I thought it wasn't cool. I walked to elementary school with friends, and the middle school was basically in my backyard, and that would've been silly to get a ride. There's an exception to everything, and I guess there were a handful of days when I did walk to h. school. Also, the big duffel bags during sports seasons were a pain in the ass to lug. Eventually I got my own ride and that was fun.

Now I'm back to my pre-16 days without a car. And I have to say, I love it. I walked a lot in college because I always lived on or near campus, and I walk a lot now, being in the city because the CTA is never there when you need it. I really hate paying for cabs unless I absolutely have to take one, and then I try to get as close to my destination as possible before caving, and usually I talk myself into just finishing out the walk because I am so close. Sometimes the night doesn't permit it though and I get creeped out by the strangers lurking just beyond the streetlamps.

Anyway, what brings this on is that I was really enjoying walking to work today - there's just something about the fact that you got yourself from A to B all on your own accord, without a motor or a machine. That you, yourself, are a finely tuned machine with muscles propelling you in the direction of your destination. It's rewarding. And I think I'm in love with running again. Not obsessively so just yet, but getting close. I think I need to get new shoes before that happens. I've always enjoyed it - well, not true. I was on the track team for about a week in 8th grade, and then I got shin splints, ugh! it was awful, and I was a little baby about it, but I feel it was slightly warranted as I was only 13 and shin splints are no good no matter what the age. But yes, I find running to be a fun, sometimes relaxing, and most definitely energizing, and a positively meditative experience.

I ran 13 on Saturday, east down Chicago Ave. then up and down the lakefront, in 2 hours - so that made me happy, and it was noon-time. Hotness, and salty sweat. Then, I stretched while waiting for the bus - good use of time. It finally came and I moved to the back of the bus, just because sometimes that's where I sit if I'm going to be on it for a while, and also I was smelly, but so was the little boy next to me. There were about 1,000,000,000 kids in the back of the bus, and as soon as I took the step up to the platform and saw them, I wanted to turn around. But it was as if I made contact with every single one of them (I didn't really, but that would've been really bizarre/possibly humorous/most definitely um, creepy?) and they dared me to sit in their insanity. So I rose to the challenge and took a seat. Anyway, we're zooming-stopping-starting down Chicago, and we're good for about 5 minutes, then I smell rotten peanuts, if there's even such a thing. It was, let's say rancid peanut butter that had been splashed with some toxic acid and sitting in the sun for 14 days. It came in waves, getting stronger and stronger. The little boy sitting next to me was about 2 (I don't know, could've been anywhere from 11 months to 14 years old - kids are kids) and he had a diaper on, and he was squirming, and this lead me to believe that he was pooping himself. I just sat there and tried to breathe out of my mouth. It was difficult, and I couldn't help but thinking that I was eating the smell. You know when you're a kid, and someone farts in a group, and you plug your nose but then you need to breathe and you take a big gasp, and kids say, "gross! you're eating the fart air!" which is totally worse than smelling it!! And still, sometimes to this day I hold my breath when I drive past a cemetary. Call me crazy... and I'll slap you.

So, I was walking. Wind in my hair, sun on my face, then it wasn't because of all the tall buildings, but I still felt good. Good'ay, Monday. As I was approaching the street I turn on, there was a homeless woman, who probably made herself look as good as she could so she could panhandle on Michigan. She was wearing a semi-clean looking outfit, and her hair was pulled into a tight side half-ponytail sitting on top of her head, but she had the tell-tale smudged dirt on her face saying this isn't just a day job. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be street urchin, the scourge of society. And it made me think about living a day in the life, but that's it. It's just a day, and after that day, you get to go back to being you, and living your life. You can't live a lifetime in a day. And then it made me think of stupid(!) Tyra Banks and her fat suit day when she cried and said she knew what it felt like to be fat and to be looked at by people, and how hard it was to get around, which come on! That was a joke. Seriously?! It didn't even look real, and wow. Really, Tyra Banks, really? How did you get a television show again? Okay, you've probably got the world's best breasts, but brains and personality?! OH NO, MISS, OH NO! So then I got irritated and decided that I would never be able to be a street urchin for a day, and that I would have to try it for a week instead, and then I thought it would probably be dangerous since I was a woman and all that stupid double-standard bullshit that goes on in this society and world.

Hot dog!!

Alright, alright, alright. I've got marathon numero dos under my belt - mmm! how about that?! Oh yeah! I was overzealous in wanting to get under 4 hours. Let's see. I started out, 6:56am, jogging in place in the middle of the large crowd, behind the 9:10 pacing group. A woman behind me was talking about how she needed to retie her shoes so she wouldn't have to stop once she started running. Oh! Good idea. So, I bend down, 6:57, unlace the strings on my left shoe - one in each hand - and the crowd starts moving. My heart starts racing, and I'm moving 20 paces on my knees, in the middle of 1,000s of people, fearing that I'm going to be trampled!! Run a pace, try to tie, run, try to stand, can't let go of the strings or I'm going to trip. Wow. It was scary. Then, it just stopped - like magic. Magic! I tied my shoe. Popped up, and some jackass behind me said, "Ha ha ha! I thought you were going to have to run the whole race on your knees." Yeah, you're real funny sir. No.

Oh, it was a beautiful morning - couldn't have asked for better weather. The race started down market street, under this giant American flag billowing in the wind, towards the Arch. What a sight, and a mass of moving people. The first 10 were amazing, running with the pacing group, we did anywhere from 8:30 to 9:20 minute miles, then the half marathoners turned around and the badasses remained. There was this new sense of camaraderie in the air, runners cheering/motivating each other. People telling their running stories. I have to admit, I didn't feel as into it as last year, something seemed missing. I kept up with 'em until after 13, then I fell behind a little bit, then a little more. I only allowed myself to walk through the water stations, and after mile 20 at the mile markers. My knees started getting sore, then my hips. No bueno. I think I started too fast. When I run long distances I tend to go slower - I expended too much, too soon. So, I was a little disappointed in myself, just because I was really hoping for that sub-4. It was hard to get past that, especially when the 4:10 group passed me. Bummer man, missing my last year's time. But, I have to remind myself that I ran a marathon, some people can't do that. Also, I trained longer than last year, did an 18 the Sunday before the race, which could've had some affect on my performance. Some crazy lady I ran with for a bit was talking about how she ran a marathon the Sunday before - that's pure insanity. Why? What would ever possess you? Then, when we were talking about that, some lady fell. Straight up fell, hands/knees scraped, but she got right back up, kept moving - hardcore. Wow. I totally sprinted like a mad woman at the end, just wanted to be done. Today I was reading my Runner's World and it said something about that, and how I didn't push myself hard enough during the race if I was able to step it up so much. I shouldn't beat myself up about all this stuff, but rather learn from it for the next race. Chicago Marathon, October '08!! I'm stoked. Flat land, thank goodness! So, serious training for that will begin at the end of May. Yes! I can't wait for summer in the city! Cool cat looking for a kitty. Meow!

Exciting news! I chopped my hair off today - I really did it!! 12 inches, adios, farewell, they're gone and in a bag in my purse. I mail it off to Locks of Love, tomorrow. So, I need to stop writing and start preparing all the shit I need to get done before I go into work. And, this is a bummer, I feel something ichy in my throat. No! I will not get sick! Damnit!! I took some Airbourne, and I like E-mer-genC way better. What else. Oh, my friend Erin and I went to Neo-Futurists tonight, and we saw this show "Unitards" (about HS retards wanting to wrestle) and it was hilarious, reminded me of "Strangers with Candy" in the sense of being an after school special, it was raunchy and wrong on so many levels, so duh! I loved it. Okay, seriously. Later, gator. Peace, love and sexual healing.

Speaking of, I'm - wow, I can't even believe I did it... I signed up and made a profile on match.com. Yeah, I know. I don't know, I'm going to give it a try. I'm lonely, and maybe I'll find someone... it could be fun. I was just playing around with it at first, and then I came home last night, slightly intoxicated and feeling sad, so I wrote a belligerent biography and put up some silly photos. So far, I've had some serial-killerish/lame ass guys message me, but there are some attractive ones... I don't know how to go about introducing myself to delicious men, and then if I ever would, they're either married, dating or gay... maybe even not interested, but what? Why? I'm pretty fucking phenomenal, I think. I hope. I'm witty and clever, and I have impeccable tastes. Tell your single sexy man friends living in the Chicagoland area.