Tech Savy

January has a tradition for me of being a month of reassessment and reorganization. Its typically cold out, dreary, windy, dark; plenty of valid reasons not to run outside in my Hawaiian shorts and have a picnic. This week in particular, the weather has given the entire northwest a great big slap in the face. Meetings are cancelled, classes are delayed, folks are hibernating.

Instead of giving in to a bad case of the lazies, or staring longingly out the windows dreaming about being on the mountain, I have decided to use this time to get it together for 2012. After all, I want to look nice when the world ends.

I've never been one to fear technology, 'Luddite' would not describe me in any way. However, I sometimes worry that in my steamy embrace with technology, I'm failing to take a step back to see if this relationship is actually healthy. Therefore, I'm taking this snowy opportunity to streamline the technologies in my life, see if I can make them a time saver instead of a time suck.

Spend 3 hours blindly scrolling through Facebook while my eyeballs dry out? No thanks. Show up late for work because I got distracted reading articles on Jezebelle? Not me, no sir.

I have ways of making me organized.

I am learning to make the internet more like an attentive personal assistant and less like an unruly puppy that's super-cute but craps on the rug when you're not looking. Just kidding...I love you, Internet.

Useful tools on the web are completely changing the way I organize and complete tasks. In order to share my productivity with the world, I have put together a list of the best things I've found so far.


1. Evernote - Requires online signup with the option of a program download
Over the holiday, a friend introduced me to an online program that allows you to make lists, bookmark websites, keep photos, and basically eliminate the need to stuff your pockets with the post-its and napkins that I randomly scribble on.

Evernote can be accessed from any web browser, has a download-able program for your desktop computer, and also syncs with a phone via an android or iphone app. In fact, yesterday I started typing this blog post in the Evernote app on my phone, and I'm currently finishing it up in the full program on my computer.

I have transferred all of my shopping lists into the program. No more paper! Now when I'm at Costco, I simply open the app on my phone and scroll through as I dump giant containers of mayonnaise into a cart the size of Vermont.



2. Google Calendar - Comes with Gmail
One of the great things about working for yourself is that you can completely get lost in your work and activities; your time is your own. Preparing all of my class materials far in advance and having a variety of techie tools to keep me on track pretty much allows me to wander through life like a 5-year-old. My most pressing concern is 'when is snack time?'

This is where the Google Calendar comes in. I already use Gmail for most of my email communication so it was pretty easy to click that little link that says 'calendar' and get started. Google Calendar has a reminder function that I set up to ring to my phone 20 minutes prior to meetings and an hour prior to work to give me time to get ready. It allows me to add events via my desktop computer or via my phone, eliminating the need to write something down then transfer it into the calendar at a later time. No more paper(!), no more lost information, no more obsessively checking the time. When the bell rings, I go to work. I'm well trained.



3. Pick&Zip - Requires a Facebook login ID
This handy tool is one I discovered while planning my 2012 photo project. One of my goals this year is to take all of the photos that I have stashed away in physical albums and to scan them so I can have digital copies.

This means they will always be safe from fire, they will be available to any family or friends who want them, and I will actually look at them from time to time. I mean, really, how often do I sit on the floor in front of the bookshelf and drag out the old albums? Almost never. But if I'm on Facebook, or importing new pictures into iPhoto, I often stop for a moment to relive old memories. With the way my life is so digitally centered these days, I need to find new ways to 'stop and smell the roses.'

Scanning is the only way to get my traditional photos into a digital format. But what about photos that are already digital? What about all those parties and events I've gone to where I wasn't the one behind the camera? All of those pictures are up on Facebook, but I don't have the time or the patience to click through and download them one-by-one.

That's why I was ecstatic when I found Pick&Zip. It is a Facebook downloader that allows the user to get all of their own photos and all the of the photos where they have been tagged. It also allows you to select albums from your friends pages and download those entire albums. You end up with a ZIP file that can be uncompressed and added to your favorite photo program.

Done and done.



4. Shutterfly - Requires online signup
Step two in the photo project required me to find some online storage for my precious memories. I already have my scans and downloads backed up on an external hard-drive, but I want an extra layer of protection. After all, scanning every photo you've ever taken is a lot of work, work I wouldn't like to repeat.

So I signed up for Shutterfly and put all of my photos online. While I was setting up my account, I poked around a bit and was excited to see that I can also sign up to have cards for Christmas and birthdays sent automatically. I can choose my favorite photos and use them for the covers of the cards, keep an address book, and set up dates for mailings. Never again will I send out my Christmas cards late.



5. Spotify and Pandora - Both require online signup
These aren't really productivity tools, but they are changing the way I think about accessing music. Pandora is an oldie for me, I originally signed up for a few years ago and had it playing constantly at work, it remains a favorite. Music is a big motivator for me, it keeps me moving, so having an internet radio station has gone a long way to keep me productive. I often find that I'm about to get up and wander away from my desk, but then a really good song comes on and I forget to quit working. I have the Pandora app on my phone and run it through my car speakers when I go up the mountain.

Spotify is a more recent addition to my program arsenal. At this point, I don't open it as often as I open Pandora, but when I do, I have a clear purpose. The benefit of Spotify is that you can type in any song you want to hear (provided that it's in their database) and hear it instantly. So let's say that I've had 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' stuck in my head for three days and it's driving me nuts because I only remember the chorus. Now I can pop in to Spotify, cue up the song, put it on repeat, and sing along passionately for as long as I want. It also allows you to play an entire album, letting you discover songs by a favorite artist you might never have heard before.


The best thing about all of these programs is that they are all FREE!!!!!!

Each one (with the exception of Google Calendar) offers a 'Premium' version with added bells and whistles. Or in the case of Shutterfly, offers you add-ons like photo prints, books, the card mailing feature, etc.

I'm not new to the internet, but I am relatively new to the concept of using it to improve day-to-day routines. It's blowing my mind a little to think of being online less like being in a giant library of people's thoughts, and more like being in a room full of tools that can build the perfect me: productive, organized, creative, and thoughtful.

Only time will tell if these tools help to hone those skills, or so thoroughly remove them from my responsibility that I lose those skills entirely.

But that's a worry for another day, I'll add it to my calendar for 2013.

Resolve

2012 will be my most selfish year ever. I will consider my own feelings along with, and sometimes even over, the feelings of others. I will be concerned with my appearance in a base and superficial way; spending time on my hair, luxuriating in sinfully smelling lotions, getting the good workout clothes/bras/shoes instead of the cheap stuff, blowing off unnecessary work in favor of free time.

I will lounge around. I will chill out. I will make time for myself.

It's all about me. This time I won't forget. This year I will stop being a human shield...

Yes. That's right. A human shield.

A funny thing happens to me when I'm around other people, even people I don't know very well: I throw myself in front of bullets that were not intended for me.

I hear them say, "Ten thousand cookies by tomorrow and I have no idea how I'm going to do it!" or, "I'm planning a party for my husband's, step-neice's, uncle's dog and I just don't even know where to begin..." or, "I need flyers for a charity organization you've never heard of that places abandoned cows in foster families..."

And my hand goes up. Over and over again. I can't control it, it's like I'm swatting flies.

This has always been the state of things for me. And it's ten times worse when the needy party is someone I am dating. Suddenly I am personally invested in whether or not someone who is not related to me makes it to the dentist on time. Do they have enough clean clothes? Are they eating healthy? Can I help them? Please?

It doesn't make sense for grown adults to throw all of their needs onto someone else, and it extra doesn't make sense for me to volunteer to be the baggage camel. Especially when it seems that I'm always trying so hard not to get "involved" with anyone. "I'm not looking for a relationship," I say, "just someone to hang out with." Then, two months later, when I'm sitting on the couch in my pajamas with birds nesting in my hair and this person is passing me the remote, it hits me: I've been relationshiped.

How do you know if you've been relationshiped? The signs are not always obvious. You might find yourself driving someone everywhere, texting them before you decide if you are going out tonight, choosing between heading out in the cold to help them buy groceries or watching movies on your comfortable couch in your toasty warm house. Maybe you stop going to the gym, stop eating the foods you like because the other person doesn't like to try new things, stop laughing at things you used to find funny.

You've been shanghaied...maybe you were a little drunk at the time, but you've agreed to go along, so no one is really forcing you to do anything that you didn't sign up for.

You didn't make it clear that you weren't looking for this when you volunteered to help with all the things all the time. It wasn't apparent that you wanted your own space when you were constantly around checking to make sure everything was okay.

Before you know it, the people around you are hinting that you might get the privilege of carrying this person for the rest of your life...and possibly a smaller person as well. They smile and say, "well, accidents do happen..." in such a way that makes you wonder if they volunteer at the condom factory just so they can gleefully poke pinholes in the rubbers.

I want to stop this madness. I want to get to the root of the problem so this doesn't keep happening.

I'm fortunate to have a group of friends who are grown-up pants, self-sufficient people. They don't need my help most of the time, and if they do they ask for it, and I'm more than happy to oblige because I know that they are capable of helping me in return. This is the level of interaction that I should be expecting from everyone, everywhere, all the time.

With the exception of things that I consider charity (donations to good causes, helping 95-year-old ladies pick up heavy boxes), I really shouldn't be putting all my effort into things that have no return.

My solution is selfishness. My resolution for 2012 is to take a good hard look at what I'm saving before I jump in front of the gun.

So don't look at me. I'm not getting involved.

the year in review

If ever I am at a loss for something to do with my time, or I've forgotten what my goals are supposed to be, I refer to The Master List.

"What is 'The Master List?'" you ask, and I'm so glad you did. The Master List is not a list at all, but is in fact, a whiteboard. This whiteboard lives behind my office door and is a dry-erase paradise filled with my random thoughts, books I intend to read, places I want to go, my goals; and most importantly, who owes me money.

If you've ever felt bad because I appear to be more organized than you, take heart, I'm also INSANE.

Around this time last year, I wrote a blog post about my goals for 2011 and added a bunch of unintelligible scribble to The Master List (my handwriting is what happens when you put a pointy stick in your mouth and try to write on an uneven surface using sumi ink from a bottle...while riding a roller coaster).

12 short months ago, I scrawled out the following goals:

1. Run another half marathon
2. Take a cross country road trip
3. Complete an Olympic distance triathlon
   
4. Pay off my car
   
5. Run the Spokane Marathon in October
   
6. Get published
7. Read at least 10 books from the banned books list
8. Dine out once a week or less
   
9. Make a will

Did I do all these things? In a word: no.

But I did do some of these things. And I also did other things throughout the year that I felt fairly good about. See how vague I'm being? Pretty soon you'll have forgotten all about that list of failure up there.

I did run another half marathon (#1), and the full Spokane Marathon (#5). Making a will (#9) went by like a breeze once I actually sat down and did it. I forgot all about reading banned books (#7) until the end of November, but I finished that one this afternoon with only days remaining in the year.

I fully flunked numbers 2, 3, and 4. I did not get published (unless you count this blog, which I do not), and try as I might, I could not stay away from all the fine dining establishments Spokane has to offer.

4 out of 9 is a 44%. That is clearly failing. But what about extra credit? Can I get points for all the things I did end up doing in 2011?

1. Went to Emerald City Comicon
2. Learned to wakeboard
3. Learned to shoot
4. Went ziplining
5. Ran a full marathon
6. Threw some awesome parties
7. Ran the Warrior Dash and the Dirty Dash
8. Went to Silverwood for the first time
9. Almost got washed out to sea in a kayak
10. Spent a week in Myrtle Beach with my family

If you crunch the numbers on this, you'll note that there are 10 things on this list of accomplishment, and only 9 things on my previous goals list (aka 'failure list'). Also, subtracting the things I actually completed on my previous goals list takes that list down to 6...and 10 is more than 6. In fact, it's 4 more...so let's say it's 40% more...if you take that 40% from the new list and add it to the 44% achievement rate on the old list, you get 84%, which is a solid "B" grade.

See what I did there? That's called math.

That's not bad at all. 'B' isn't just okay, it's slightly above average. Good job 2011.

David Bowie New Year, January 2011

Liz learns to snowboard, January 2011

Emerald City Comicon, March 2011

St. Patrick's Day, March 17th

Selina's Birthday, June 2011

Myrtle Beach, June 2011

Kayaking at Owens Beach in Tacoma, July 2011

Old Hollywood Party, July 2011

Intro to Shooting, August 2011


Super Mario Halloween, October 2011

phoneless and phreaking out

"You know, if you keep making those faces, eventually your face is going to stick like that."

That's what they tell me, anyway. I'm not sure if I believe it since I made a sour face for the first 20 years of my life and I seem to be recovering nicely.

However, I do see some truth to the statement. It's about habits.

If you keep doing something long enough for it to become a habit, eventually you will stick like that. This is true for the good things, like exercise or spending time with your family, and true for the bad things, like drinking too much or gambling away your savings.

But what about the in-between things? What about the habits we pick up that are widely sanctioned by our society?

There's something that I'm obsessed with. Something that I have to have with me at all times of the day. I take it with me when I go to sleep, when I go to work, when I'm in my car. I tend it like an obsessives' garden, making sure everything is in its' place, checking and rechecking. If I don't pick it up at least once every 20 minutes, I start to feel jittery. Others encourage me, asking where it is if they don't see it with me, proudly showing me theirs like brand new parents.

I'm talking about something I've started to take for granted over the past few years: my electronic tether; my cellphone.

By a gross miscalculation in timelines, I managed to shut off my own phone today while porting my number to a new carrier. I have no idea when I will have a working phone again. Note to my future self: next time make sure you have your new phone before turning off your existing phone.

What's most disturbing about this situation is not that I managed to misplan, I'm human after all. No, what's bothersome here is the way I'm reacting to my disconnect.

Whenever my mind starts to wander, I catch myself poking at the dead shell of my old phone. I turn it on and stare at its shiny screen, glancing to the top right for the tiny letter icon to tell me I have a message, hoping to see the little "G" symbol that means I have new Gmail. I might as well be curled up in a corner rocking back and forth while talking to myself.

When did this happen? I remember growing up without a phone, being a teenager who had to use landlines to call home and leave a message on the answering machine (the kind with the tiny tape inside). Heck, I didn't even have a cellphone until my junior year of college. Yeah that's right, I managed to survive until the age of 20 without sending a single text message. Amazing, huh?

But now? No fricking way! I've only been without the phone for a few hours and I've already lost my sh*t. If it wasn't for the fact that I still have the old phone to cradle softly in my arms, I'd probably be starting a fire or something. Like this girl who literally killed when her phone was taken (click to read the article).

I read an article a few weeks back that said that people reacted the same way to loosing their iphone as they did to loosing a loved one. As in, the same area in your brain that lights up when you are in mourning lights up when they turn off your phone. It's a creepy little member of your family. And now, with the Siri technology, it's even got a sweet lady voice to further your attachment (as if you needed it).

I'm sure I'll make it through this troubling time, not in any small part due to the fact that I still have the internet with access to Gmail, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and all the other millions of internet locations that eat my time.

Thank goodness I have this virtual world in which to live, where else would I go for support? Real people?

Don't be silly.

Hello World

"Don't touch anything," my Dad sternly commanded, wrinkling his brow in that certain way where you can tell he's confused, but just on the verge of a solution. He held a tangle of cables and cords, puzzling over a telephone book of instructions printed in both English and Japanese. My Mom drummed her fingers, looking bored and frustrated. I, for my part, gave all the help I was capable of giving by spinning around as fast as possible in the adjustable office chair.

There it sat, on a desk against the wall, in the room with the old zebra-stripped couch that smelled like dust, and the flimsy pressboard bookshelf housing an entire hardback set of Encyclopedia Britannica. This foreign invader, so strange in it's beige, boxy shell. The television seemed to look on in distress, worrying about being replaced.

Suddenly, with an electric fan whir and a happy little beep, the box sprang to life, emitting an alien glow. Filling the room with an eerie cast, throwing our shadows to the far wall.

I shot my feet out to the floor, stopping the chair mid-spin, focusing in on the bright white letters. They burned my eyes a little, jumping out from that deep blue, undulating with color and light.

I reached out my hand.

"She touched that thing!" my Mom cried, "why is there an hourglass?! This thing is broken!"

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Within a few minutes of meeting someone new, it invariably comes up, "What do you do?" quickly followed by, "How'd you get in to that? Do you like it?"

Everyone wants to know, are you happy? And if you are...how did you do it? Can I do it too?

Where did it all begin? When was the moment that it all came together and you said, 'Here it is, this is the thing that will change my life?'

It's been a few years since my introduction to the computer (maybe more than a few), but I still remember that first taste like it was yesterday. I didn't know right off the bat that I would end up using them to make art, but I did know that I wanted to learn everything about them, discover how they worked from the ground up; break them down and rebuild them, create something new.

One of my Mom's favorite stories to tell about me is the time she bought a new vacuum and couldn't figure out how to assemble it even after reading the directions multiple times. When she had finally given up, I began to pick up the pieces and stick them together, completing the vacuum simply by studying the parts. I was five.

When my artistic talent and my penchant for advertising began to emerge, my Mom started bringing home books from the library. "It's called Graphic Design," she said, "this is you."

And that's how I knew.

Onward from the age of ten, through adolescence and into adulthood, I tapped away at countless keyboard keys and double-clicked hundreds of mice, learning to express myself by interfacing with a machine.

Which brings me to today. Happily working as a freelance Graphic Designer and teaching others to use the fascinating tools of my trade.

That's kind of a long story though, so I'll just give you my standard answer: "I'm an artist, it's a fun job."

How about you? What do you do? How do you like it?

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Here's a share, a couple of recent projects for non-profits. Using my skills to help others is part of what makes my job so great.

Christmas Party invitation for RiteCare Spokane a non-profit speech therapy clinic for children ages 2 - 7.

Site design for the Spokane Bike Swap a non-profit bicycle event to raise funds for the Friends of the Centennial Trail.

Good Form

First off, it's been a stupid long time since I've sat down to write, and for that I apologize; mainly to myself for forgetting the cardinal rule of success: Consistency.

I've finally gotten on board the Consistency Train with running and exercise, but I have yet to allow consistency to keep me on track for the other things I enjoy, such as painting, writing, and making time for my friends.

Most recently, consistency in my training allowed me to complete my very first full marathon, the Spokane Marathon, earlier in October. Sticking to the schedule and remembering to use my body in the way that it was designed is what got me through to the end. Working, resting, fueling, and thinking. Putting it all toward my goal.

Big surprise: it works. It's all that "you get what you put in to it," "your body is your temple," "you are what you eat" stuff that so many people like to spout. Who knew it would turn out to be true?

So here I am, post marathon, feeling great, wearing my awesome new hooded sweatshirt that says, "finisher!" and I declare out loud to myself...(don't worry, lots of people talk to themselves before, during, and after running)...anyway, I announce in my runner's-high afterglow that I'm going to train for an ultra-marathon. Something more than 30 miles, a real, crazy, over-the-top challenge.

With this goal in mind, I decide to incorporate longer runs (duh) and work on getting faster. You see, I'm a bit of a plodder. I shuffle along at about a 9:30 mile pace regardless of the race distance, and when I get to the end, I'm not even tired. I know there's more speed in there somewhere, I just have to teach myself to access it.

I've gone running with the boyfriend a couple of times, and it seems to be helping since he is much faster than I will ever be (I assume).

I want to say up front that there is nothing that feels more natural for me than running. Sitting sucks, walking is too slow, hopping is awkward.

When I run, my entire body feels like it drops into place. As far as I know, I've had the same running form my whole life: standing up straight, leaning forward, arms a little low, feet hitting the ground flat/mid-foot. <-- And there's the problem.

The first time running with Don he mentions something about my foot strike, and how it would be better if I stayed toward the front of my foot. So the second time we go running I try this different foot strike thing for the duration of the run, which turns out to be around 12 miles...and I feel something pull in my ankle. Goodbye Achilles tendon, it was nice knowing you.

Suddenly, my body that feels best after a 20 mile run can't even handle a 2 mile run. I took something that works, and I broke it.

This is not to say that he doesn't have the right idea (maybe or maybe not, it's up in the air) but I definitely had the wrong idea to immediately jump on something new without a consistent history of training in that way to back it up.

And now I'm out for at least a couple weeks. Leaving me with hours of free time when I would rather be running. Sidelined by form, which brings me to my tangent about paper forms:

There are certain aspects within the daily dealings of life where I expect consistency. One of these places is on official documents. I have no idea why I feel that way when there is absolutely no evidence to support those feelings.

Today I was reminded how little attention is paid to consistency when I sat down to fill out some paperwork and promptly found myself smacked full in the face by the grotesque mis-appearance of IRS forms: daunting. ugly. inconsistent.

Now, it's important to note that I don't find forms to be inherently ugly. A sea of grayscale boxes does not have to be a sign of bad design. They don't have to be a clown-vomit explosion of color to keep my attention, or have flashing banner ads on the sides to peak my curiosity.

No.

Where these forms fail me is the same place I failed in trying to change myself too quickly. Whoever designs these IRS forms has taken a good idea and simply gone too far. Absolutely everything is encased in a heavily stroked black box. Somewhere along the way, some helpful soul looked at the form and said, "You know, I bet that would stand out better if you put a box around it...try making it bold!"

And a monster was born.

Changing up the form (the form-form or the running form) can be a good idea, but not if it defeats the original purpose. Form should follow function.

In the case of IRS forms, the function is the transfer of information from one spot to another. Or in my case, the transfer of energy from one spot to another. My existing form was doing it for me, without the add-ons, and I bet those IRS forms were almost attractive before they got painted up with boxes, bold text, underlines, different fonts, and 'helpful' symbols.

Lesson learned.

It doesn't have to be pretty. It just has to work.

let's get dirty

Now that I've done both the Warrior Dash and the Dirty Dash, I feel that I am qualified to write an intensive, tell-all exposé of inner-city crime...oh wait...I got off topic for a moment there. Um...I feel that I am qualified to talk about mud in your shorts.

And a couple hours after a 10k obstacle run, that's just about all I'm qualified for.

I automatically award the Warrior Dash with extra points for having more of my friends in attendance. This was due to the timing of the event and also the shorter, 5k instead of 10k, distance.

However, the Dirty Dash pulls ahead slightly based on two factors:
1. It is close to my house, thus close to a shower.
2. The shirts are better, they are fitted and femme.

BUT...

Parking SUCKED! We were told to pull over to the right to be 'in line' for parking, but in fact, we were as far along as we could go and ended up abandoning our vehicles along the side of Government Way. The race was about 2 miles away from where I left Geordi, effectively turning a 6 mile race into a 10 mile race. Trudging back to the car in my mud-filled shoes in the torching sun was not something that I accounted for.

Luckily, as I shielded my eyes from the blaze I suddenly remembered Jason talking about Bear Grylls peeing on his shirt and tying it around his head to keep cool in the desert. My shirt was already soaked from the plunge into the river - saving me from having to figure out how to aim - so I draped it over my head and hoped to God that Eastern State wasn't doing any patrols for escaped patients. It worked better than I could have hoped, I am sunburnt everywhere except the top of my head.

Chic desert Sheik, or underground breakdancer?

Both races gave the opportunity to donate your muddy shoes to the needy and un-shod. A great idea, to be sure. Unfortunately, I didn't end up donating at either race. The mud pit at the Warrior Dash was so deep that I stepped right out of one of my shoes (the one with the timing chip) and couldn't find it again.

Parking at the Dirty Dash put me so far away from the car that there's no way I could have made it back without shoes. Much of the terrain heading back was rocky, and the rest was sun-baked asphalt, just waiting to fry my little toes. I suppose it's for the best though since I realized back at the car that my one-size-too-small running shoes had been steadily rubbing holes in the backs of my heels, soaking the insides of the shoes with blood.

Nobody wants those now.

This is after the shower, but you get the idea.

The showers at the Dirty Dash were for realsies, or at least as for real as a shower at a campground:

• Above your head
• Emitting a trickle of water
• Spread far enough apart that you aren't rubbing your muddy body against others
• Outside so you aren't tempted to rub your muddy body against others

The Warrior Dash "shower" was this:

• A homicidal maniac with a fire hose to your face

Dirty Dash at Riverside St. Park - Note those showers back there

As far as obstacles go, I loved the Beer Chug "obstacle" in the Dirty Dash, it was a nice break after running up and down trails. The Warrior Dash gets mad props for its spectator area with the giant cargo net, fire jump, and mud pit all lined up one after the other for the amusement of your friends and family.

Warrior Dash mud pit

Warrior Dash fire obstacle

It seemed like there were the same number of obstacles in each race, The Dirty Dash just had twice as much running to get between each one. That's thumb-up for me, but probably a thumb-down for most people.

Hands down (but thumbs still up), the best obstacle of the Dirty Dash was the slip 'n' slide. I wasn't expecting it and I haven't been on one since I was ten, or thereabouts. Running and jumping into the inflatable chute was a damn good time. Also notable was the incorporation of the Spokane River into the race, with one section detouring into the water before turning back up the hill.

The Dirty Dash was most definitely a trail run. Lots of uneven and rocky areas, lots of perilously skinny routes along the edges of embankments. The Warrior Dash, by contrast, was less intense in that way. It wasn't on pavement, but it wasn't what I'd call a "trail run." It may have been dirt, but the area was mostly flat and mostly smooth, it looked like it was a pretty heavily trafficked farm road.

For non-stop action and an event that you can do with all of your friends - even the ones who "don't run" - The Warrior Dash definitely gets my vote. For more of a bad-ass, I-can't-believe-I-ran-six-miles-and-drank-a-beer-and-jumped-in-the-river-all-within-an-hour feeling, the Dirty Dash is the way to go.

Either way, you're gonna get dirty.

when it's okay to quit

I've spent a lifetime training myself that it's never okay to quit. There are always more reasons to continue along the path than there are to turn back. People who stop before they really began just don't understand what they are capable of.

It was in this general mindset that I headed out for a training run Sunday morning.

This was the run I was supposed to complete on Friday...but instead I ate lots of Thai food. So it became the run I was supposed to complete on Saturday...but instead I sat perfectly still for 10 hours to work on a project (a project that needed to get done, but I'll try not to defend myself too much). That brings us to the run I was supposed to complete beginning at 6 am on Sunday...but instead I twirled myself up in my blankets and said, 'just a few more hours of sleep.'

So it was that I found myself at the Mirabeau park entrance to the Centennial Trail at 11 am, with the sun already high in the sky. It was getting hot. Nasty hot. But I decided to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach that told me this run might need to wait for another day.

The first few miles were a breeze. I flew along under the tree canopy, enjoying views of the river that would be fit for a postcard anywhere else, but that we who live here see as same-ol'-same-ol'. I munched on almonds and chocolate covered raisins, my favorite running foods, and tried to be mindful about drinking from the many tiny water bottles that lined my waist.

At Noon, I left the trees.

Miles four and five weren't unbearable, but the sun was causing me to squint under my sunglasses, and I could feel the rays pushing down on my shoulders. At 5.5 miles, I turned to head back for the trees, 'maybe a little more time in the shade will help me out,' I thought.

Eight miles down and back in the trees, I realized I had run out of water. There was still two-and-a-half miles between me and the nearest water fountain, and now the sun had shifted so those previously friendly trees were no longer casting their cooling shadows.

As I plodded along at an increasingly slower pace, I offhandedly noticed that I was no longer sweating. Normally, this would be cause for alarm. But to my sun-addled mind, it was cause for mild amusement, 'Weird!!' my subconscious squealed, 'my skins feels all squishy!'

The headache came on at around mile 9, shimmering curtains of iridescence crashing though my eyes, making it hard to see. Ophthalmic migraines are common for me when I'm in intense pain or have become dehydrated. Unfazed, I continued to jog, probably in a series of weaving lines and circles.

11 miles down and standing back in front of the water fountain by the parking lot, I carefully filled each little bottle from my hydration belt, and proceeded to drink them and fill them again. It didn't make any sense to me to drink directly from the fountain. So I stood there, for perhaps 10 minutes, filling and draining those mini-squeeze bottles.

Then came the defining moment of my day.

Normal people; sane people; take stock of their situation and make decisions based on that data. People like me; crazy people; complete a task regardless of outside information.

I was 20 feet from my car and my cell phone. 5 feet from a tree providing shade. Mere inches from a water fountain.


My thought process, in it's entirety, went like this:

'We have the water!! LET'S GO!!!'


And I set out again, this time going the opposite direction, in full, soul-sucking sun. The tiny trees I passed offered enough shade for chipmunks, and I contemplated crouching under them for a while, but somehow I was certain that I wasn't allowed to be under the trees. Each time I passed a shady spot I would think, 'I wish I could stop there,' and yet I'd continue on.

During a normal run for me, I run halfway out (away from my car or house or wherever), then I turn around and run back. This ensures that I don't crap out and give up in the process of circling my house five or six times: I'm already out, now I have to go back.

Without realizing exactly what I was doing, I ran myself halfway out from the car and the water source when I should have been trying to pass it multiple times. Or better yet, should have been indoors after realizing it was too sunny for a pale kid like me.

So it went that I trotted another 2.5 miles away after having already been at the car. When I reached 2.5 miles away (13.5 miles total), I noticed a woman and her daughter with their bikes taking refuge under a larger tree. I wandered over and stood uncomfortably close to them, then abruptly sat down in the pine needles and put my head between my knees. They left at some point, weirded out no doubt, but I stayed under the tree for at least 15 minutes trying not to lose the almonds and chocolate raisins I had consumed earlier.

The distance back to the parking lot this time was not a run, not a jog, not a walk; more like a death march.

People passing on the trail said things to me, one woman pointed at me and seemed concerned, but I couldn't understand what they were saying. I stopped five or six times to sit under trees while my head swam in circles. The parking lot seemed to be running from me.

The next thing I knew I was lying under a tree by the water fountain with my shoes and socks off, 16 miles displaying on the iPod. Logic tells me I walked there, but I can't be sure.


When I got back to the house I laid down to stop the spinning in my head and woke up three hours later feeling like I'd been hit by a train.

My sunburn makes it hurt to wear shirts with sleeves.


I approach most things with overwhelming enthusiasm and confidence. I run head-on into any situation, literally and figuratively. Leaping before looking. Shooting first. Apologizing rather than asking for permission.

I can now look back with confidence and say, "Yeah, I should have just quit."

long runs make your face hurt

Last Friday I hit the trail for a long training run; 13 miles along the Spokane River. I'm training for a marathon, you see, and when you are training for a marathon, you run a lot, and you tell everyone how much you are running a lot, and you expect everyone to offer you encouragement for running a lot, as though it wasn't up to you, but you are such a saint for powering through it.

So I'm training for this marathon.

Anyway, while I was out on the run, I noticed something really different about running outside versus running indoors on a treadmill. In the gym I spend most of my time avoiding eye contact with other sweaty messes. Kindly averting my gaze whenever I catch sight of a bright red huffer-puffer struggling away on the elliptical or stair climber. Fiddle with my iPod. Pretend I'm watching Judge Judy. Read that poster about protein smoothies for the hundredth time.

But this is not how they roll in the great outdoors. When you are outside running, you are expected to make eye contact. Smile. Give that little acknowledging head jerk. Raise your hand just a bit like you are placing a bid at auction. Perhaps grunt out a, "Hey," or a "morning." All the while sucking in your gut and trying really hard not to look like you're about to pass out.

It's exhausting.

And I had to wonder, since running is such a workout, and being social can be mentally taxing, how much more difficult is your outside run than your inside run?

This led me to Google both "calories burned smiling" and "calories burned by waving." Alas, there wasn't much concrete information to be found on either topic. Apparently no one but me is curious about how many calories a Lilac Princess might burn while parade-waving atop a float. Plenty of people care about the smiling thing though. 'It takes more muscles to frown than to smile' and things of that ilk. The only problem is that there is no solid research.

What are you wasting your time on, Science?! Curing cancer? Solving the world hunger crisis? Those things are so last season. What matters right now is how many muscles it takes to smile, and how fit I'm getting by flashing by pearly yellows (maybe yours are white, but I drink a lot of tea).

On a side note, I also tested out GU Chomps energy chews on my last long run and found that they don't make me want to barf like the gels often do. Instead of outright eating them, I stored them in my cheeks like an electrolyte-hoarding chipmunk. It seemed to work pretty well except, of course, for the times I would run past someone and feel the need to smile and wave and greet.

I might start asking around to see if anyone else finds outdoor runs draining for reasons other than the varied terrain.

If I keep up this running outside thing, I'll have to start incorporating weight lifting moves that work my waving arm. Or maybe I should start frowning at people instead of smiling, since frowning uses more muscles. And we all know how serious I am about building muscles.

Since I'm training for this marathon.

the things we keep

A few weeks ago, I tasked myself with sorting through the basement, drawers, closets, and tiny spider-filled spaces to gather items for a yard sale. We're not running out of space; on the contrary, we have more space than we can handle.

And as often happens with extra space you don't need, we've rushed to fill it with extras things we don't need. An empty drawer is like a haunting siren song, playing over and over again in your head, saying, 'why would you leave me like this.'

It took longer than I thought to get started with the sorting process. Each time I would imagine myself tromping down the basement steps and tackling the mess, my chest would seize with fear. What would I find down there? Would it take days? WEEKS?! MONTHS??!!!

And more urgently: How would I part with these things that are apparently so important to me that I stashed them under my house?

Setting deadlines proved to be the push I needed to get it done: I had already placed an ad in the paper about the sale, and it was looming in the not-so-distant future. People would show up on that day, and if I wasn't ready, they would judge me.

Reluctantly resigned, I made myself a reward snack (for all the hard work I had yet to do), and headed into the chilly darkness.

It didn't take long for things to get weird.

The questions I had struggled with before about my unnatural attachment to inanimate objects quickly flew out of my head and were replaced by incredulous terror questions such as these:

• Why do I have a two-year supply of low fat popcorn and instant mashed potatoes?
• Whose tupperware is this? WHY ARE THERE NO LIDS?!
• I own a hamster ball?
• What made me think I needed to keep four inflatable flamingos?

Spartan. Organized. Functional.

These are the words I would have used to describe my house prior to my basement adventure.

Now I know the truth.


I have allowed myself to use out-of-the-way spaces to hide my inner pack rat. Areas of my house where visitors rarely tread are a safe haven for my irrational hoarding impulse.

Some people keep extra water and food in their basements in case of emergency. Not me; oh no.

I could sleep easy knowing that my basement had enough pink sparkle crap to get me though the worst of times. Do you need a glittery mouse pad? I have three! How about an assortment of unused tumbler cups with shiny Hello Kitty faces emblazoned on the sides? Have you ever wished that you had pink, rainbow-patterned shoe laces? Wish granted!

But no longer. This had to stop.

It was brutal. I moved without mercy. I was like a machine.

I've cut my collection of random Hello Kitty items by more than half. HALF!

Mainly, I've tried to keep only the things that I've had since I was really little, since they have actual sentimental value.

Somewhere, I have a picture of myself at the age of five running away from home with my little red Hello Kitty snack box (a girl's gotta eat). There's a picture of this event because I told my mom I was running away...and also where I was going...before I left.

She told me to be home for dinner.

I found that snack box and the tiny thermos that nests inside, it was one of the things I chose to keep.

The more I sorted and dropped items into the 'sale' box, the easier it became. My criteria was simple: if my house burned down, which of these things would I miss? Everything else goes.

What now takes up the most space in my home are my boxes full of photographs. My summer project is to scan them and back them up, so they will always be safe. My memories are more important than anything I could buy at the store.

Those are the things we keep.