Rain .... The Good, The Bad, The Stupid

July in the desert we crave rain. It's like a whole region is dehydrated, head achy for lack of water ... cranky. The plants look starved. The desert vibrates with heat ..... until the rain. It was late this year, but the moisture is finally here. Last night, the skies opened up broadly across the desert and this morning .... well, things looked different.

First, the scary part of the monsoons. The rain comes so fast and heavy, the desert and roads and systems just can't handle it. So, while I did everything right to be ready to be out the door by 5:15 this morning for the Easy Peasy Ride .... A friend called at 10 pm because she was unable to get to her house nearby .... even though they were in an F350 pick-up -- the police wouldn't let them into the waters. Plus, she had her grandkids, so even if they would be allowed to try it -- is that the time? So, at 10 pm (well past my easy-peasy curfew) the phone rang and I told them to of course come over. The girls were put to bed and we chatted until about midnight (I knew the ride was toast). Of course, a ride always comes second to helping a friend .... No question.

But, I still wanted to climb for a few reasons .... One ... my cycling friend still thinks we are riding to the top and because I just had my bike refit and I wanted to see how it would do. But, because I had a late start, I headed up the mountain a bit to try a new part of the mountain.

The fit was perfect -- if your riding seems difficult ... get a professional to look at how you sit on the bike. In just a few minutes, my bike was transformed into a bike set up for how I ride (note, I had my bike professionally fitted when purchased, but the seat didn't stay in place and they were setting my up for triathlons, not long distance riding).

Here are some thoughts from today's ride....

1. Rain makes the desert dance. I swear I could hear the plants singing ... and the power of the water flowing off the mountain was inspiring.
2. Little things, like my new buff headware, do small things like keep the sweat out of the eyes are the difference between success and failure.
3. Who knew my right leg was shorter than my left......

The amazing part of the ride was not the views (which were fabulous); not the exercise (which was tough) ... But instead being able to witness the rebirth of the desert through the addition of water. Lots and lots of water.

It's amazing when you can smell the conversion of the forest trees as you pass. But, after a good rain, you can smell them and, if you are focused, you can hear them too. I swear one group of pines was playing Boccie ball in the pines just below General Hitchcock Campground.

Destination Vacation

I wonder if people 100 or 150 or 3000 year ago even thought about getting away -- taking a vacation. Relaxing beyond a good smoke on the back porch (not that I smoke). But either because we are "softer" today or because of the pace of life -- or just because we can -- vacations seem critical to the survival of the modern day soul.

It's not that the buzzes, beeps and zooms go away, but at least there is an ability to push ignore for a while and not be too concerned.

So. The San Diego Vacation. Human Rating: 8. Puppy Rating: 12! (please note: Scale 1 - 10 -- possible downside was fishhook in The Donut's front chest day two -- but quickly resolved)!

So, we drove though the desert and found, much to our surprise a rather nice dog park in Yuma for the pups to stretch their legs. It was filled with grass and allowed us to make the rest of the trip in the car (meaning, we didn't have to go pottie in the cazillion degree desert).

We arrived in Descansco and I was a little concerned. C is more particular about his surroundings than me. So, we pull up (thankfully the temp was only in the high '80s, which felt cool coming out of 110). But, we pulled up the dirt road, saw the little hobbit house, an abandon trailer, etc., and I thought .... "shit, I hope we can find somewhere with wi-fi so I can find somewhere else for us to stay for the week."

But, despite initial appearances, we walked up, met the owner and decided it looked ok. Actually..... I thought it looked SUPER AWESOME COOL! While we quickly turned off the new age music (replacing it with the melodies of the poetic commentary from the sultery Phil Liggett from the Tour) .... After unloading, we headed to a nearby lake to determine if the dogs had sealegs. With the exception of the Donut getting a three-pronged barbed fishhook lodged in her chest (which we didn't find until the next day) .... It was a fabulous afternoon. We spent the evening grilling, drinking good beer and watching the sunset .... 5-Star!

Because a discription is unfair from me, here is how C describes the Haylapa Hosue: "When I first saw the Haylapa House, I wondered where the next Hilton was at..... Then we walked in met the owner and the realization that Hoolia was not going to go anywhere else sunk in. After I realized we were set for the duration, it grew on me. I mean, we had great beer from the Green Flash Brewery and the sunset was fabulous."

More to follow, but that is day one.

Funny, I never listened to the lyrics ....

Tomorrow, we head out on a much needed vacation. We are headed west on an adventure staying at a funky little by-way place that will either be fabulous or a "great story".....

My intention on this blog was simply to post the lyrics from the Go-Gos (who have been my heros since the 80s) song Vacation. Then I read them .... Guess I didn't ever do that before. I just sang along. Funny, I guess that is how we get in trouble on lots of things. We think we know what something means, we think we know what someone is saying, and we just sing along. (And, in my case and with the Go-Gos ..... it's usually loud and always off tune).

Here are the lyrics I found....
VacationGo Gos(Kathy Valentine/Charlotte Caffey/Jane Wiedlin)Can't seem to get my mind off of youBack here at home there's nothin' to doNow that I'm awayI wish I'd stayedTomorrow's a day of mine that you won't be inWhen you looked at me I should've runBut I thought it was just for funI see I was wrongAnd I'm not so strongI should've known all along that time would tellA week without youThought I'd forgetTwo weeks without you and IStill haven't gotten over you yet CHORUS Vacation All I ever wanted VacationHad to get awayVacationMeant to be spent aloneA week without youThought I'd forgetTwo weeks without you and IStill haven't gotten over you yet

All these years, I think I just understood what the Chorus said. I didn't read the rest. Lesson: Understand the whole story before you shout it from the rooftops. With all of that, the chorus holds true. Will attempt to post from The Haylapa House .... And, obviously, you will find out if it ends up being a great vacation or a great story :).

Riding Up Mount Lemmon -- Whew!

I have driven up the mountain main times. I have riden my mountain bike down most of it once. I have riden up and down countless trails on the mountain -- INCLUDING the Butterfly Trail (don't do it, seriously. Not ever.) With all of that, I have never riden UP the road.

A few weeks ago, my riding buddy asked if I would want to do this multi-week training program called something like Easy Peasy Mountain Squeezie -- and I, being me, said of course. She said do you want to try to do the whole lemmon or half. And I, being me, said the full one. Of course.

Today, at 5 am, I left the house and got to the starting area. There were quite a few people there, many of whom had already riden five, 10 or so miles. I was fairly nervous because I haven't done it and because my previous evening preperation could have been a little more aligned towards strong performance and not the jovial drinking of adult beverages. Oh well, here we go.

I felt really strong the first three and a half miles. Legs felt strong, lungs felt good. Heart not exploding out of my head like it does on the steep climb up to Colossal Cave. Then, I started to feel funny. Light headed, a little more sweaty than was normal, and definately not strong. I stopped .... riders, runners, etc. were cruising past 'Are you ok?" "Are you ok?" Yes Yes. Fine.

I even told one passing rider to tell my friend I was turning around.

I sat there for a bit, then decided it was time to get back on the bike. Funny thing. Given that I was still a little lightheaded, I decide it would be safer to pass out going uphill than going downhill. So, the plan was ride uphill until I felt better then turn around. Funny thing. I made it to about 1/10th of a mile from where we were targeting. I saw my friend coming back down, so I joined her. But, I made it..... 5.7 (well 5.6 miles) up Mount Lemmon.

Tomorrow is a 5 mile run, next week, up Mount Lemmon again -- this time 9 miles up. Hopefully, I will feel a little better for the whole adventure next week. But still, I am kind of crowing quietly (ok, not so quietly) about my achievement today.

Strange Hospitality

It's blueberry season in Indiana. My favorite time. Not any blueberry farm, but the Alpine Blueberry Farm in Batesville, Indiana. The berries are wonderful, the setting is perfect and the owners, well -- they are the definition of Hoosier or any kind of hospitality. Of course, I am bias because the farmers are family.

Year's ago, my dietitian-blueberry farming sister gave me a cook book called something like "Around the Table" -- there were recipes from around the globe, but it was more about how people should be celebrated when they come to your home. I was young, but it resonated and if my door was open before, it was wide open after I read the book. I never prepared a single recipe from the book, but I tried to practice its premise: The door should always be open, new faces and old faces always welcome.

Recently, I discovered a few boys were road tripping from Arizona to Ohio. I said "you must stop at the blueberry farm .... Ask for my sister or her husband. They will take care of you for a while." So, I gave my sister a heads up, gave the boys her number and let fate play its hand. I haven't heard all the stories, but the boys did show up and now Charlie and my nephew Teddy are friends on Facebook. Connections, right?

My sister would say that is what the blueberry farm is all about (well, it's also about the healthiest most yummy fruit in the world) but more importantly -- it's about connecting with people year after year, some new faces, some recognized faces... But all there to walk about the fields, pick buckets of berries, chat with Ted, hopefully chase a few birds away. And, if you are lucky, you get to try a few goodies out of the private garden. Have you ever tried freshly picked romaine lettuce lightly grilled, with a touch of dressing and a little sprinkle of cheese? Nothing is better. And I want to go there now.

My sister reported that when the road weary boys arrived she asked what their main stops had been along the way. One of the boys said something like the Hot Springs and the Blueberry Farm. Good choice! Hoosier hospitality is one thing, but strange hospitality takes it to a whole different level.

Now: Full disclaimer so I do not get in trouble. All my sisters and my brothers practice some form of Strange Hospitality. And, ask my husband, if you visit, it never stops. It's a swirl of kindness and activity the likes top few will ever know.

Yes, Lucinda, I am alright .....

Lucinda Williams had a song that asks the listener "are you alright, I haven't seen you in a long long time.....i hope you come back someday" or something like that. Today was one of those days that my purple Nano IPod just seemed to pick the most appropriate soundtrack. Song after song, my moods and feelings were validated by the songs that shuffled to the top.

And, I took a risk today. I didn't tell it the playlist I wanted. I just hit shuffle. When Lucinda started crooning (I think that is the right word for what Lucinda does) for some reason I thought of this long neglected blog. And, yes, Lucinda, I am OK even though I took off without a word.

It's been busy. Good busy, bad busy, joyous busy, cry at the end of the day busy. Weeks passed without my recognition. This happens ..... But I try to not make it too frequent because I do not want to get to the end of my life and not know where it went.

You know, Lucinda. She is one of those performers that when you see her -- it's an emotional workout. The angst, passion and force that drives her poetry engulfs you. The way life should. You feel the good, the bad, the fun, the rowdy. It's funny... and this is a confession to Murray. I still have your Lucinda CD. I just couldn't let it go. Sorry. I guess it's outdated now (who listens to CDs), but I still pop it in at work occasionally.

Since my April assault on Liz, we had a brilliant conversation. I promised to call again soon. I still haven't. I participated in a triathalon, I took my little friend Aevri shopping for the perfect kindergarten promotion dress. I laughed a lot, cried a little. Oh, and I got a new puppy. Handsome little Porter who reminds me of Maizy. Again, this last few weeks, I laughed and played with good friends.

So, yeah, to be consistent with the musical theme .... I probably suffer from the "Happy Woman Blues" but I continue "Learning How to Live." Sometimes, if you just put the purple Nano on Shuffle, clarity comes along for the ride. As the summer goes on, I will strive to be more consistent with this blog. Not because I think you need it or are dying to read the next installment, but because Lucinda seems to get worried if I don't just in from time to time.

Singing Wind with The Lizard

Well, The Lizard continues to ignore me. I go unnoticed. She floats along her merry way, me jumping wildly and in a very uncoordinated fashion to get her attention. Lizard Lizard, here, Lizard Lizard.

I moved to Tucson in 1993 -- a cazillion years ago. I missed the Lizard terribly as I tried to find like minded friends. Unfortunately, there was no one -- is no one -- with a mind like the Lizards. So, she came to visit me. I think it was my first spring in Tucson, but it was more likely my second. I could find out for sure, but it really doesn't matter and I am feeling rather lazy about details. So, let's just agree, it was within a few years of my migration west.

We did lots of funny things while she was here, including a camping trip near the Mexico border than ended up with us being chased away from our campsite by bees. We meandered all around the backways of Southern Arizona. And I took her to the Singing Wind Bookstore in Benson Arizona.

Now, I love bookstores. Lizard loves bookstores. This one is FABULOUS if you are ever in the area. This is this interesting woman whose husband wanted to ranch -- but the woman wanted a bookstore. So, she built on. In her living room -- or some part of her house. you drive north of Benson a ways and then you turn left onto a dirt road, you open the gate and head to the ranch house. Once inside, there are no guides to where the books are -- but you get a personal tour. Totally fabulous. You tell the owner what you are interested in and she shows you where to look and advises as to what you might like out of her collection.

If you are ever in Southern Arizona -- or if you live here and have never heard of the Singing Wind Bookstore -- you should make it a destination. It's a slice of character and life as art not to be missed.

Trying to get The Lizard's Attention

So, what do we know. We know that the Lizard had a birthday last week. In fact, I called to sing her a happy birthday song (lovely).

We know that the Lizard started out her professional career as a ballerina and later ventured into poetry and performance art. We know that the Lizard worked at the Canary Cafe and liked to do handstands on chairs. She also has been known to enjoy bananas and bagels.

She still hasn't notice that she has become the focus of my blog. And, so it continues. Now, with photos.......

Now, the pogo stick was purchased in Tucson to be part of a performance art piece she was preparing as part of her MFA program. I believe it was some kind of deranged ballerina piece. We were in a park practicing. She was quite good. I, not so graceful. The pose, I am fairly certain, was actually her trying to team me little ballerina tricks.

The Lizard was/is one of the most multitalented, creative and funny people I have ever know. She can make you laugh until you cry and she can make you cry until you laugh.

Think she is paying attention yet? I have more photos ......

Lizard: Part Two

Because my friend Lizard is not paying attention to my blog in the manner I think is appropriate. (meaning, at all) I am going to start posting regular funnies about her until she acknowledges I am here. If you know The Lizard, please inform her of this activity if she wants to stop the storytelling.

So, to recap, Lizard is a former Ballerina who can, while standing, raise her leg straight up to touch her knee to her ear. She is also a ballerina who wants to expand her creatively and starts to look at other performance avenues such as poetry and performance art.

I want to tell you about a summer that the Lizard came to live with me in Indianapolis. I lived in a little studio apartment in downtown Indy. I was a block of so from the Chatterbox and about three blocks from Monument Circle. I liked it for a lot of reasons, one of which was that I worked about a half block from my apartment. It took me about three minutes to commute to work.

Well, The Lizard had left Indianapolis on an adventure in a red Volkswagen van. She was traveling cross country with a friend and a big old fashioned typewriter. I am not going to tell the whole story of her adventure, but I will say that at some point things went bad and she came back and I agreed she could stay with me for a while. That led to the summer of the Julia Playhouse.

Lizard was there, writing, looking for work, trying to decide what to do next. I was there working, writing, going to Slippery Noodle for Readings and planning for my escape from Indiana. Our friend, we will call him ...... Barnes .... was working and hanging out with us. He lived up the street about a mile or so. And, then, sometime during this summer we met this kid who seemed creative, nice and had potential, but in the end turned out to be what he started as in the beginning -- a thief. He was a thief of ideas, focus, enthusiasm and, in the end, he stole really things from us like "stuff" and faith.

But, to the funny things. In this little (maybe 500 sq foot) apartment, we all hung out. We wrote, we created art with crayons, we celebrated, we danced. We ate bagels and bananas and we used lots of toilet paper. And I loved it. People were crashed out around the apartment, the energy was sparky and we laughed a lot.

One day, I came home from work. I must have been having a bad day. But, I had stopped on my way home for more bagels, bananas and, yes, toilet paper. I went up the elevator, opened the door to my apartment and there were Lizards and The Kid dancing around the living room. Now, somehow I don't think this is reality -- but I recall one of them doing a handstand on my rocking chair. The other dancing around the rest of the apartment.

This was my first sense of getting old. I was terrible jealous of their freedom as I worked all day at the newspaper, went and bought the necessities of our "family" and then came home to find play and creativity bursting around the apartment. For the first time probably in my whole life, I identified with my mother. Why did they get to have the fun while I worked and cleaned and bought the food. Now, in the end, the reality is that this was one of the most creative and wonderful summers of my life. But, that afternoon, that moment, I felt the burden that many "mothers" must feel. And, in the end, the work was worth the reward.

Here's the lesson from this: If we take care of people who need something, we learn and grow. In the end, what we get far exceeds what we invest every time. So, extending a helping hand always pays off in ways that investing in a stock never could.

To the birthday Lizard

I met -- let's call her "L" -- after a poetry reading at the Slippery Noodle. She was cute and tiny and a little timid and I believe her poem was about bugs. Cockroaches, I think (I could be wrong). To be honest, the poem wasn't very good but the passion and interest were there. So, I approached her, feeling as though I were a kind of seasoned poet in the group. It was her first public reading and she would certainly be interested in any input I might have. She was a dancer. Not a stripper dancer, but a real ballerina dancer -- which totally impressed me. I mean, I can barely tie my shoes. And this girl -- this woman -- could twirl around on the tips of her toes. Now, that is cool. Actually, what I found to be even cooler was that she could raise her leg and touch her knee to her ear. I loved that as a party trick ("Ok, "l" -- show everyone -- lift your leg and make your knee touch your ear"). It's not that I kept her around as a party trick, cause she was really fun and funny too, but the party trick was a good one. Anyway, she was creative, wonderful, fun and the crazy dancer bug poetry chick turned into one of my bestest friends ever. Her birthday was this week and so, to my friend, cheers. More stories to come later.

A little opinion ....

It's funny. And unique. And a strange place to be. For the last few years, I have endeavored to moderate my political rantings for many reasons. And, while on some level, I will continue to do so.... this date, this time, this urgency makes my tongue hard to still.

Arizona. Sad. We are the first state to eliminate its Children's Health Insurance Program. I don't have kids, so why do I care? Well, without sounding cliche, the health of the children is directly tied to the heath of the community. End of story. We cut health care, we cut education and we somehow thing businesses will come here if we simply offer tax incentives. Silly, short sighted thinking. And, these same people are saying, do not increase revenues -- cut services. What do they think these people -- these human, United State citizens are going to do when they get sick. Stay home? Die peacefully in an alley? Really? No, these people who are in pain and suffering will forgo health care until they are really really sick and then go to the most expensive place possible to get care -- the Emergency Department. Oh, and, because of this, Emergency Department waits will get longer.

It would be interesting to compare ED waits before and after Prop 204 passed to see if expanding health coverage improved access. I don't know the answer, but might try to find out.

Federal. Can the politics get any nastier? Do we have to be so uncivilized? It's no secret that health care needs to change. Dems .... Public option doesn't fix the problem of escalating cost. Republicans ... the free market system doesn't work for healthcare and end of life support and counseling is not a death panel. It's humane and compassionate.

How did we end up in a place where an individual. A brother, sister, mother, daughter, father's health and well-being became a political football. We are talking about a human being. Their health. Their ability to breathe. Live. Contribute.

It's funky and weird that more concern is paid to and more consensus around the health of our financial system than the health of our neighbors. The uninsured -- the mythical group -- is not a stranger. It is our community. Our neighbor. Our family.

For whatever reason, I recovered.......

I struggle with the purpose of this blog. Friends and family in foreign lands blog to share their experiences, some share about common experiences such as being a mother, raising a child, working in academia, being a nurse. Some blog and Twitter so people will know they exist.



I am not sure why I blog. Well, I know why I started but I struggle with why to continue. I do not think I am interesting enough to just talk about my life. I live in Tucson, where I have lived since 1993. I work at a hospital, where I have worked since 1996.



So, do I have stories that people can learn from, build from, benefit from. The answer, on some level, I think is maybe.



I grew up in this crazy family of Stranges! Crazy land. I am going to start to tell stories about life with Strange's. My first story is inspired by health reform and a recent visit to a small rural hospital in Arizona.



I spent a morning recently with the leadership of a hospital in Bisbee Arizona. This hospital has a 14 bed inpatient unit, a 4 bed room ED (with plans for expansion) and an intense interest in using technology to allow people to receive care closer to home. This reduces costs by eliminating a costly transport fee ($12,000+ for a helicopter ride/$3,000+for an ambulance). It also reduces stress for the people who face being transported to the
"big city" for health care.



This all resonated with me because of a story from when I was a toddler that has become part of my family's folklore. Father Jovian told be best, but it goes something like this ......



Living in a rural Indiana town, my parents had a sick young girl of 18 months. I believe there were respiratory issues, pneumonia, etc. (I am not entirely clear, because I was the sick one). The story goes that at some point the very small Batesville hospital couldn't handle the serious condition of this 18-month old and a fantic trip to Cincinnati began. According to sources, my parents (my mother is a nurse) put me in the car and drove as fast as possible to Cininnati, which is about an hour from Batesville. According to the stories, my dad drove as fast as a car in 1968 would drive and my mother cared for me as my lips turned blue.



Now, clearly, I do not have the entire story and I have no actual memory of this. But, I was in the hospital for a long time on all kind of life supportive equipment. In fact, the situation was so grim, I was "Confirmed" in the Catholic Church and I received my Last Rites. For whatever reason, I recovered. And, at this point, because there was indication that I was sick because of dust, all of my sisters received major hair cuts and I am pretty sure that my older brother had to let a hamster free in Indiana in the middle of January. Carpet and drapes vanished from our bedrooms and cleaning intensified.



Now, back to health reform and today. If we can leverage technology to help people receive care close to home, eliminate the travel and stress. That's good care for the patient, good environment of care for the physician, better quality and better outcomes. My outcomes were pretty good..... but I do not know what the costs were (I think they were pretty high for the time). It's possible, that mine was the case that was to be expensive no matter what, that I needed the higest level of care -- and that is appropriate in so many cases. But if more people like the CEO of Copper Queen Hospital in Bisbee, Arizona find ways care for people closer to home, well....... seems like smart medicine.

Where the poet went ....

If you knew me before Henry, before Tucson, before I stopped wearing vintage clothing -- you knew someone who called herself a poet. A girl who felt her life in words. Who felt her life in abbreviated sentences. Who wondered whether her "Tea Party at the Apocalypse" meant anything to anyone. She knew it must. It had to, right? She stood at the front of smokey rooms reading to the rhythm of the art. To the beat of the rhythm. She wanted to change a mind, shift a culture, change the world.



But, a bus hit a group of onlookers and her poetic advocate was gone. What to do? Move. Shift, delay. Do it alone. Find your voice. Of course, in the end, the voice of "poetry" as defined by academics vanished. And the words transfered to colors on a canvas. She painted. Not well. Not schooled, not workshopped, but she painted and, for her, it was relevant. This is how she became me again. Or, realistically, I was always me, but it's taken a long time to come to terms with what I perceive I lost when my poet died.

My poet transformed when I realized today's poets -- the type of poet I wanted to be -- are the musicians ... I could never change the world through my art, because, well, I have no rhythm. This is not bad, good or indifferent. There are other poets out there making a difference. Some are doing it as "poets" -- many are the singer/songwriters we love....

When people ask me now..... what about your poetry? I don't fuss about the words. I tell them my poetry is in the music of artists all around the world and I celebrate it. And my individual poetry comes out in colors of canvas and in the voices I shape at work every day to help people understand how to care about people. My poetry comes from how I live my life -- my cycling, my new found passion for running, laughing with friends, etc.

OK, so I might not (will never) win a literary prize, but I have come to understand that the value of art is not in the recognition of the masses but, instead to the contributions to individuals. Every day. Every breath. And, in homage to the poet Sting ... in Every Breath We Take.

Blessed Is This Life .... Thanks to Brent Dennon

Before you read this lyric, if you haven't heard this song ..... It' so uplifting and cheerful and soulful it makes me almost cry.......


I welcome the sun,the clouds and rain,the wind that sweeps the sky cleanand lets the sun shine again.this is the most magnificent life has ever been.here is heaven and earth and the brilliant sky in between.blessed is this life and I'm gonna celebrate being alive.blessed is this lifeand I'm gonna celebrate being aliveI dwell in the darknessI let in the lightI sleep in the afternoonand become the noise in the nightI trespass in temptationsuffered in sacrificebut I awake each day with a new sunriseblessed is this life, ohand I'm gonna celebrate being aliveblessed is this life, ohand I'm gonna celebrate being alive

And, in the words of yet another songwriter, celebrate, celebrate ..... dance to the music.....

Again, a "poem" I wish I had written ....... Thanks Talking Heads ......

Hey!And she was lying in the grassAnd she could hear the highway breathingAnd she could see a nearby factoryShe's making sure she is not dreamingSee the lights of a neighbor's houseNow she's starting to riseTake a minute to concentrateAnd she opens up her eyesThe world was moving she was right there with it and she wasThe world was moving she was floating above it and she wasand she wasAnd she was drifting through the backyardAnd she was taking off her dressAnd she was moving very slowlyRising up above the earthMoving into the universeAnd she's drifting this way and thatNot touching the ground at allAnd she's up above the yardThe world was moving she was right there with it and she was(Hey, hey)The world was moving she was floating above it and she wasHey, hey, heyAnd she was proud about it... no doubt about itShe isn't sure about what she's doneNo time to think about what to tell himNo time to think about what she's doneAnd she wasHey hey, hey hey, hey!And she was looking at herselfAnd things were looking like a movieShe had a pleasant elevationShe's moving out in all directionsOh, oh ohHey hey hey (repeated..)The world was moving she was right there with it and she wasHey, woo hooThe world was moving she was floating above it and she wasHey, heyJoining the world of missing persons and she wasMissing enough but feeling all right and she wasHa haAnd she was(repeated..)

The "poem" I wish I had written..........

Something I wish I had writen, but Tori Amos did it better than me. For some reason, I keep coming back to this song in my head ..........

And if I die today I'll be the happy phantom And I'll go chasin' the nuns out in the yard And I'll run naked through the streets without my mask on And I will never need umbrellas in the rain I'll wake up in strawberry fields every day And the atrocities of school I can forgive The happy phantom has no right to bitch Oo who The time is getting closer Oo who Time to be a ghost Oo who Every day we're getting closer The sun is getting dim Will we pay for who we been So if I die today I'll be the happy phantom And I'll go wearin' my naughties like a jewel They'll be my ticket to the universal opera There's Judy Garland taking Buddha by the hand And then these seven little men get up to dance They say Confucius does his crossword with a pen I'm still an angel to a girl who hates to sin Oo who... Or will I see you dear and wish I could come back You found a girl that you could truly love again Will you still call for me when she falls asleep Or do we soon forget the things we cannot see Oo who...

Farrah: The Great Oscar Snub

OK, so Farrah Fawcett's acting chops never merited an Oscar -- I am not saying they did. But, over the years, she showed over and over again that she was more than a pin-up girl (although she was a darned hot pinup girl). Although the motivation behind the documentary of her extended dying process is up for debate, I believe showing the painful death of an icon shed some light on issues and topics most people never think about. So, the Oscars couldn't squeeze her in to their memorial sequence. Really? Farrah? When did Hollywood forget that sex has sold a gazillion billion movie tickets. Give Farrah her due..... Maybe not an Oscar, but at least acknowledge her contribution to The Industry.

This is a short blog for me .... but there you have it. My two cents!

Crazy Little Black Dog

So, I feel like I need to talk about Maizy. Maizy entered my life the day before she was set to leave this life. Meaning, she was one day from being "put to sleep" at the "Pound" when I adopted her. She was sort of a dull greyish black color, very mellow and very sweet. Henry and I met her and she caught our attention with her court-jester ears. My friend Candace met her when she first came home with kennel cough, all dingy and yucky and said "Oh......She looks nice...." Meaning, wow, you really picked a project with this one ...." (or that is how I remember it).

Now, in full confession mode, I didn't like Maizy after I got her home. She was needy, clingy and in your face in a way that Henry never was. I posted her as "free to a good home" two or three times but whenever I got an actual call, I couldn't do it. But, she was wild and crazy and needy and she exploded the dysfunctional rhythm Henry and I had established. But, I guess, I started to think of her as my "crazy" and, in the end, I had adopted her, so I was accountable to her. And, she loved me. I mean, kind of crazy loved me.

About a month after her adoption, we went to Durango. We thought about leaving her at home (because she was notoriously BADLY BEHAVED in a car) but decided to take her. First, she jumped out of the window on a snowy backroad that resulted in me getting my thumb stuck in the car, then she (with the help of Henry) dragged me through the mud to see a friendly looking dog walking by, then she vanished on a short sunset hike we took in the snow -- she was on her last minute before I gave up when she finally showed her face.

I will tell you that after about six months of not liking this little black dog very much, I started to change my tune. We were hiking in the mountains near Globe. A little hike really, but we were a mile or so into the trail. The dogs were ahead of Eric and I -- when we saw a strange movement on the side of the trail. Yup, it seemed to be Henry and Maizy kind of rolling down an embankment. As we ran towards them, Henry bolted past us towards the car. Maizy was ahead of us -- she had turned yellow. Very yellow. Shoot .... Those were bees covering the poor thick coated and very sweet little black dog.

"Maizy, run!" I yelled as I turned on heel and followed Henry. We bolted town the trail and Maizy followed, with what I image was a trail be killer bees releasing from her thick coat. She was a border collie/shepherd mix -- so she had a wonderful undercoat that made it hard for the bees to get to her skin. We ran ran ran -- me yelling at her, yelling at Henry, yelling and Eric -- feeling the bees breathing down our proverbial necks. We came to a creek and a splashed water over Maizy (Henry didn't have any bees on him) and we kept running til we reached the car. Henry jumped in while Eric and I combed the last few bees off Maizy, we jumped in and headed down the mountain.

I was worried about their reaction to any potential bee stings. So, I bought hot dogs and Benadryl. I figured the Benadryl would stop the reaction and if they eagerly ate the hot dogs..... they couldn't be that bad off. Well, the scarfed the hot dogs and the Benadryl and we all headed home, each with just one or two stings from the day.

From that adventure on, I liked Maizy more. I didn't think about finding her a new home any more. But, when four or five months later, Henry was diagnosed with bone cancer, I made him promise not to leave me with the crazy little black dog I had only gotten to keep him company.

Strangely, he kept his "promise" -- he lived longer than anyone expected -- I think in part to ensure he didn't leave me with the crazy little black dog I came to love so much. It's funny, when she died from lymphoma -- Henry was still hanging on. He stayed with me for about six months after she passed. And, about four months after Sedona arrived. An Australian Shepherd version of Maizy.

Funny, I didn't get Maizy as a companion for me. But she was. And, if reincarnation in dogs is possible, Maizy is still with me today. In the form of a crazy little red merle shepherd who is smart, loving and 100% CRAZY BLACK DOG.

An Adventure In Four Movements

When I was in high school taking piano lessons, I would tackle classical compositions that would take the musician and listener through a series of distinct emotions, feelings, experiences and sensations. One would be energetic, one melancholic, one thoughtful, etc. For some reason, trying to write this blog about my experience at the Ragnar Del Sol Relay Race feels a lot like trying to master those piano compositions.

So, what are the distinct movements of this adventure?

First Movement: Camaraderie. We took 24 people from diverse backgrounds -- stuck them in vans for 24+ hours, asked them to run really long distances up and down mountains at all hours of day and night. What did we get? New friends, different understandings of old friends, trust, faith and fun. And, the camaraderie went beyond our team. On every leg, I was encouraged by other teams, offered water and assistance, offered encouragement and support from strangers. We can learn a lot from this -- perhaps Congress should be required to participate in a Ragnar together. Maybe then, well ..... I don't want to get political.

Second Movement: Laughter. All day and all night, we laughed. You could hear people in the other vans laughing too. You knew that the guys running in tutus were laughing. The clown with the horn was clearly laughing. People running in hotdog, pizza, grape costumes were laughing. I know this was a race and we joked about smokin' the competition -- but it was just fun smack talk to get us pumped for the next leg. We laughed so much that post race, my abs hurt almost as much as my quads.

Third Movement: Sadness. Late into the night we received word that a race participant had been hit by a car. Rumors about the circumstances and severity were rampant. Confusion raged as the course was diverted, the race redirected and we were all struggling to understand what was before us. When would we run again? Could we run again? Was it safe to run again? But more than this kind of inward questioning was this somber beat, beat, beat of thoughts, prayers and sorrow for this runner most of us never knew, never saw, would never know. We now know his name. That he was 18 and a beloved son, brother and friend. He was running with friends, living life to the fullest. His prognosis is not good, and on the afternoon of March 2, I learned that he passed away. So, this leaves me wondering -- clearly adventures of all kinds -- running a relay, climbing a mountain, riding in a bike race, taking a stand for a cause-- are full of opportunities and risk. It's clearly safer to stay home not taking the risks, not putting yourself in harm's way. But what does that do to the quality of life? I don't know the answer and I will not have the wisdom to answer by the end of this blog. Henry (if you have read my previous blogs you will know Henry) would have suggested that a life without risk is a life lived un-fully. He would say .... jump the fence, run down the roads so you can experience what life has to offer. If you don't - you are clearly alive but not truly living -- that was Henry's philosophy. This doesn't mean the grief of tragedy is less when an adventurer is struck down -- but somehow it makes it more understandable when the person is doing something they love with people they care about.

Fourth Movement: Elation. Joy. Relief. I can almost feel what this movement feels like playing out beneath my fingers. As previous blogs have revealed, I do not fancy myself a runner. But, I was challenged, I agreed and I ran. Slowly, but I ran. And, as I am learning is the nature of runners, no one cared that I ran slowly. They cared that I ran with them. Laughed with them. Mourned with them and stepped through the movements of this adventure with them. I thank my van for the elation. I thank my team for the joy. I thank the finish line for the relief.

Ragnar Blog/Compilation

Sunday Post Ragnar
We did it! Both TMC teams crossed the finish line in unison. Made it hope safely -- Oakleys are missing but other than that a great adventure. Looks like the kid who was hit is doing better -- rumors were high that night -- more later and I will post pictures and write a proper report later.

Saturday
Last runners on the course.
Posted by Julia at 3:13 PM 0 comments

Second leg is process - go boy howdy and ryanimal - muffin is up next - getting closer to the finish line
Posted by Julia at 12:22 PM 0 comments

Looks like our van goes in about 45 .....
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Rested clean and well fed - thanks to angel penny for the sweet rate for courtyard by marriott! Momotorhead, hoho, mufin girl and sugardady are on the path!
Posted by Julia at 9:29 AM 0 comments

After a few hours of sleep - we are showering and the run has resumed. Everyone is stickie and a bit sore. Remaining runs (except for boy howdy) are pretty easy
Posted by Julia at 8:10 AM 0 comments

High school - not high boy
Posted by Julia at 3:13 AM 0 comments

Race is uncertain. Runner hit by car and it was fatal. We heard it was a high boy from brophy in phoenix
Posted by Julia at 3:10 AM 1 comments

Looks like there was a ragnar accident - our folks are all ok. Race is being rerouted. Hope everyone is ok
Posted by Julia at 2:40 AM 0 comments

Ho-ho is ready for the handoff - I stayed in the van for this one cause I am having a hard time shaking the chill that took over after my last run
Posted by Julia at 2:20 AM 0 comments

That made is laugh for the next block til I handed to rhonda - she is cooking! Rockin the pace - next it's Ho-Ho for 3.4 miles then a shower and a nap!
Posted by Julia at 2:00 AM 0 comments

My run was long but I was cheered on by MoMo. Good cheer makes the miles go faster. At 2am in wickenburg we saw a lady being carried from the bar to a big truck
Posted by Julia at 1:58 AM 0 comments

Barry's run was a long dark and hard 8.7 miles! He cruised through and passed off to me (hot mama - wolf).
Posted by Julia at 1:56 AM 0 comments

Long night - sugardaddy's trailrun was defined his flashy weiner. Molly pranced through the dark with ski cap flapping.
Posted by Julia at 1:54 AM 1 comments


Friday, February 26, 2010

Getting ready for our next six legs. Expecting to start in about 45 minutes. Chris starts with six miles on the trail/molly takes on 3m - then barry then me ...
Posted by Julia at 8:48 PM 0 comments

If you are looking at a map - we are in congress arizona
Posted by Julia at 7:37 PM 0 comments

Blinkies are coming out. It's kind of like christmas --- everyone is in good spirits - of course it's not even 9pm
Posted by Julia at 7:37 PM 0 comments

boy "f" howdy has a dirty mouth .....
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Sleep is elusive - laughs are constant! Full moon coyote hoho is howling.
Posted by Julia at 7:32 PM 0 comments

Smells like a locker room and heavy doses of ben gay
Posted by Julia at 6:11 PM 0 comments

Enjoying a little break from the course - van two is running hard through skull valley. The temps are dropping/the moon is up. Belly full/night young.
Posted by Julia at 5:53 PM 1 comments

Jolene says she is ready to tear skull valley up!!!
Posted by Julia at 3:29 PM 0 comments

Finished my first leg -5 miles of beautififul high country. Met my goal time! Felt good. Rhonda is smokin and jolene is gearing -- last words from Jolene -
Posted by Julia at 3:29 PM 0 comments

Molly looking strong - lindsey rockin it! Barry and Ryan face a long leg and 829 feet of elevation gain - the air is very thin! Boy "f" howdy!
Posted by Julia at 12:54 PM 0 comments

Chris is running.... Looked good two miles in. First exchange go molly! (Mo-motorhead)! Lady Gaga rocking the exchange
Posted by Julia at 12:20 PM 0 comments

Posted by Julia at 11:54 AM 0 comments

Gathering at the start - nerves are high
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Race Day
We arrived in Prescott last night and enjoyed a nice Italian dinner at Pappa's Italian Restaurant. Numerous TMC nurses were there -- I can't tell you how much it means to me to have our nurses at the aid station. I don't expect to need major first aid, it just feels really good to know that there will be familiar faces should I need something.Barry, Chris and I are having breakfast in our hotel, some of our team are still sleeping and some are on the road! We have already seen one team of runners -- Tucson Trigirls -- headed out for an 8:30 a.m. start. Dr. Eve Shapiro is on the team -- Go Tri-Girls!We have about five hours to start time -- everyone is in good spirits and excited for this adventure. The weather forecast is improving and rain is now predicted to hold off until Saturday night (when we should finish.)
Posted by Julia at 6:32 AM 0 comments
Thursday, February 25, 2010

Two of four vans are on the road headed for Prescott! Italian food and a bit of carb loading/vino on the agenda for tonight!

Race Day

We arrived in Prescott last night and enjoyed a nice Italian dinner at Pappa's Italian Restaurant. Numerous TMC nurses were there -- I can't tell you how much it means to me to have our nurses at the aid station. I don't expect to need major first aid, it just feels really good to know that there will be familiar faces should I need something.

Barry, Chris and I are having breakfast in our hotel, some of our team are still sleeping and some are on the road! We have already seen one team of runners -- Tucson Trigirls -- headed out for an 8:30 a.m. start. Dr. Eve Shapiro is on the team -- Go Tri-Girls!

We have about five hours to start time -- everyone is in good spirits and excited for this adventure. The weather forecast is improving and rain is now predicted to hold off until Saturday night (when we should finish.)

Two of four vans are on the road headed for Prescott! Italian food and a bit of carb loading/vino on the agenda for tonight!

Ragnar del Sol -- The Journey is about to begin!

Ragnar is a 212-mile, 24+ hour relay split between 12 runners (TMC has two teams, so 24 runners). We are running to raise money for TMC for Children --- Mile by Mile, Miracles Happen.

I am not sure who might be interested, but I have figured out how to post blogs updates from my phone. The weather forecast is sketchy and we might end up quite wet. We start in Prescott on Friday, ending in Tempe on Saturday (note: some of us may be at Fourpeaks Saturday afternoon).

Stay tuned here for updates. In the words of Woody Harrelson's character in Zombieland .... "It's time to nut up or shut up....."

And, while I am prepared to "nut up" I think I have found a way to keep talking......

To run with joy ......

Must remember to run with joy .....

Sometimes the joy just comes out!

The trail was hard packed due to rain, the air was crisp but not cold, the mountains were snow covered and I was parked next to a Copper Cowboy standing next to my "steel" horse. This is to say, yesterday after the rain I was at the ranch in Colossal Cave getting ready jump on my mountain bike for a ride and it was about 50 degrees.

I had made a playlist a few days earlier for a run and I teed it up again for the ride. Now, you should know that my life has always had a soundtrack and, interestingly, just two days before I was updating my funeral soundtrack with a friend -- Talking Heads / And She Was, Tori Amos / Happy Phantom, Pearl Jam / Just Breathe, etc. This is not morbid, just really my way of keeping control of my soundtrack.

All weekend, I had been thinking about music, downloading this and that. Trying to get the right grouping of songs so I would suddenly be able to run an 8 minute mile.

But, this day, I wasn't running, I was mountain biking. And it was a mountain biking kind of day. Chris and the dogs headed through the gate and we instantly hit a flowing creek! Score. Then, up the hill ... I started along what previously seemed like a long slog .... But, today was more fun. I pedaled through a few good tunes -- A3, Badly Drawn Boy -- when all of a sudden I started spinning in sync with a tune I had just downloaded the day before at the recommendation of the Artist himself. It was a song by The Swigs -- local band featuring a few cool people I know -- the song Ploughed In The Stars literally pushed me up the hill (except for the really steep part where I pushed my bike up the hill). Headed down, we sang about Whiskey and a few other things, then onto one of my secret pleasures -- Lady Gaga..... Bad Romance.

Chris was far enough ahead (I thought) so I started singing RaRaRa ---- whatever. How fun, twisting through the curves, down the hill, dropping through technical sections -- RARARA!!! I took a corner a little fast and there was a runner just kind of smiling at me.... Sheepishly (cause I knew she heard me RARARAing) I said hi and kept rolling. It was a good day. The soundtrack continued randomly with no theme -- Counting Crows, Matisyahu, Groove Armada, Vampire Weekend, Poe "Track #9", Modern English, Dropkick Murphys......... each song matched the trail perfectly in a surreal kind of a way.

On the way back, heading back to the crest of the last hill, I took the headphones off, stuffed them into my shirt and took off after Chris, Alta and Sedona. I didn't really even realize it but I was hootin' and hollerin' (please read with Indiana twang that is intended). Wooooo-hoooooo, Yeaaaaahhhhhhhh! I picked my way through the drops and was going as fast as I could. It was beautiful, sublime and oh so sweet. I came around a corner and there are these three guys off to the side of the trail. They are grinning ear to ear. I knew I had to fess up. They had clearly heard my squeals. So I said "Sometimes the joy just has to come out!" -- Amen, they said! I took off and can only hope they got half as much joy out of the trail that day as I did!

Where do babies come from?

Or, better stated where do canines come from?

Back in the day, way back when I was young and fresh -- I didn't really find commitment appealing. I was living the casual life -- taking weekend trips, being spontaneous, doing my thing. On one average day of many other average days -- or at least a day I do not recall -- things changed. I lived in a little bungalow at Silver and Cherry with some fabulous neighbors with the last name of Greenleaf, I think. I don't know where they are now -- but they were good neighbors then. Liz was my fabulous and funny roommate -- she was a student and very busy. Lots of funny stories there, but that is for another time.

On this average day, I was coming home from work. It was in October. It must of been late, because I remember it being dark, so it's possible I had been somewhere between work and home. Well, not possible, very probable. So, I am driving along and there is a big white and black dog in the middle of the intersection at Silver and Cherry -- and he is not moving and just staring at me. I stepped out of my car and I said "Hey big guy.....Whatcha doing out here in the street?" He kind of cocked his head and walked past me and jumped in the car.
Nuff said, I guess.

So, I got in and drove around the corner to my home, brought him inside. Now, understand, I was not looking for a dog. My roommate was not looking for a dog. And, in fact, my landlords did not want us to have pets.

But, there was this big skinny cow dog standing there looking at me and then staring at the window sill. Not just staring. Pointing. What the ...... Holy moley -- he wanted my rubber duckie and was happily pointing right at it. I gave it to him and he happily chomped on it while I made him some vegetable textured protein (I was a vegetarian at the time) and called the pound to find his owner. Some guy named Gustave, the pound lady said. So, I called Gustave who was really named Steve or something like that (I believe the fake name was because he was a pound dog hoarder). Anyway, I called Gustave and said I have your dog --

(Now, before I got on, I need to tell you that Liz showed up during this textured protein/rubber duckie time and took one look at the hound I had and smartly proclaimed "well, clearly we have a Henry on our hands).

.... And Gustave said (stay with me here)..... "Oh, you must mean Grey --- he escapes all the time. Do you want to keep him?" Well, first I thought ..... clearly this dog is not Grey -- he's Henry and of course I DO NOT WANT A DOG. Clearly and fully, I was not a dog person. So, I took Gustave/Steve's address loaded up Henry/Grey and took him home! Not my problem!

Well, the next morning and I was just consumed with worry about Henry (please note that at this point, there was no "Grey" left in my head). Gustave/Steve lived in a little apartment with a thousand other dogs he had "rescued" from the pound. I told Liz I was worried about Henry. I told my boyfriend Eric I was worried about Henry -- but there was nothing I could do. Not my dog, not my problem. So, that night, still feeling like something was wrong with the universe, Eric and I were sitting in the living room and I was telling him again about Henry. I think he was about to tell me we should call Gustave/Steve when we heard this little jingle jingle outside the window..... I opened the front door and Grey turned into Henry and he was at home. Not to say he never ran again, but he was home. And he stayed with me for a very very long time............

What's Henry Got To Do With It?

I have been thinking about Henry a lot. Henry. The big black and white cow dog who just showed up in my life one day and proceed to dominate the next 13 years or so. Henry. If you knew me when, you knew Henry.

Henry looked like a cow and a hound dog all mixed up together. Henry was noble, regal, forgiving and unforgiving. He was fiercely loyal and completely understanding if you understood him. A person can learn a lot from a dog. I am writing this because I have been told by many people that I need to tell Henry's story. So, in the course of this and future post, I will try to tell his story and my story.

Funny thing about Henry. He had a way of making friends and making good things happen. And he didn't mind breaking a few rules to do it.

For example, I moved onto Towner Street in Tucson in 1998 (when I was 10 years old :). There was this nice couple across the street and we would sometimes wave and smile. Then, one day in the rain Henry jumped the front fence right when I got home from work and I took off after him, running full speed in the rain in my suit and in heels. Well, after about five blocks I caught Henry and pulling up alongside me was my neighbor Jeff -- who had seen me flying down the road in the rain and in my heels after a crazy escaped cow dog and he just decided I needed help. Which, of course, I did. Because Henry was bad. But, in true Henry form, his act of defiance turned into a great friendship.

So, another example. Henry was a destructive dog in addition to being a dog who jumped fences. A dog with "issues" -- a determined dog. Sometimes this resulted in door frames being ripped down (thanks Mike for putting them back up so many times), curtains being shredded and, once, my house being burned down. But, here's how that turned good -- I took Henry to the pet store buy a crate to put him in while I was at work because I couldn't leave him in the yard (see previous paragraph) and he was ripping my house aside from the inside out (see reference to door frames and curtains). At PetSmart, I was trying to determine the right size crate and a group of customers asked what I was doing. I told them and they all ganged up and say "you aren't putting that beautiful dog in a crate." Now, I am not making a commentary on whether crates are good or bad -- we have crated trained our Aussies. What they did was lead me to the adoption table where I met Maizy. Or, the musty black border collie mix who would become Maizy. It took a while, but Maizy became another beloved friend. One, who like Henry, I still miss. And, one who thanks to Henry, I will always cherish.

The point here: Sometimes you have to be a little outside the norm, jump over the fence, tear down the door frame to meet the people or to experience the situation that will make a difference in your life. I need to remember that. Maybe that is why Henry keeps popping into my head. He's trying to remind me to break the rules a little, push the boundaries and experience the things we don't even know we want to experience.

Do the Rules of Bike Club Apply?

OK, so Bike Club has rules. Of course, one of them was to not tell anyone about Bike Club (please note that this was knowingly and willingly lifted from Fight Club). But, I think I am going to break that rule and hope the consequences are not too extreme.

I thought about Bike Club today as I trotted on my feet around the Bunny Loop of Fantasy Island. It's about a five mile loop -- easy-peasy on a bike, pretty easy running. So, since I thought about Bike Club -- I am now going to blog about it.

Alta and Sedona joined me on this little jaunt and I started to think about whether trail running was beginning to even remotely feel as fun as mountain biking. Strangely, the answer is kind of sorta, can see how it would be someday. If I compare the run today with some of the common rules of Bike Club -- this was a pretty good day. There was mud -- and I hit it. There was water -- and I hit it. I bled and I did have to retie my shoes, so that is sort of kind of like a mechanical failure (ok, that's a stretch).

I was with friends (Alta and Sedona) who did fun things like randomly race off the trail at full speed after phantom bunnies even if it meant a little pain along the way (cactus). This kind of reminded me of riding with my friend Doug (Chris, Doogie, Grant, Jim, Nancy, etc.) who occasionally dart off the beaten path on their bike to jump over something -- often leaving them bloody, hurt and, nearly always, happy at the end of the ride.

Of course, there is the rule -- or at least saying -- in Bike Club that we ride for stories (and beer) instead of exercise. And, that makes it fun and not work. I can tell you some stories about bike club .... There was the time @$*&#$ did a jump in the parking lot and bounced higher than any human I have ever seen; the time #$&*@(&$ was urged to "pull-up" on a rock drop that no one else even tried -- and he made it; when @#*!&(237 landed upside down in a tree during a sprint down Sunrise; and, of course, when #$(@U)(348 had to ride out of the trail in his whitie tighties after a cactus attacked :). There was also the time I had a three inch cactus spine in my hiney and my friend @#&@!*$&@( had to help pull it out. Fun times, right? RIGHT!

And, today's run reminded me of many biking stories -- which means I should have hope and confidence that one day I will be as joyful at the prospect of a run as I am at the prospect of a bike ride. I will readily admit that I have never grumbled (well, maybe once) at the end of a ride like I very commonly grumble at the beginning, middle and end of a run. That is something I need to change ... no grumbling on a run.

It's weird. The Ragnar Relay (a 200+mile relay foot race through Arizona) is just two and a half weeks away. I know that physically I could be better prepared. I am still slow and still a little (well, a lot according to my Wii coach) heavier than a I should be. But, I kind of sort of feel like I have made progress that goes beyond the physical. I am starting to actually think this will be fun -- not a slow and hellish death march. I will be hanging out for 24+ hours with a bunch of crazy people doing ridiculous things, supporting and cheering each other on, laughing when it's appropriate and sometimes when it's not. We will end up tired, possibly bandaged, sweaty, stinky, sore and looking for a beer. And, of course, there will be tons of stories.

Funny, this is starting to sound like Bike Club....... And that can only be good.

Twinkies

I am already behind. I mean, the pressure is huge to be relavent and informative and witty and, well, whatever else a blogger is supposed to be. But, you can't be any of that if you don't even keep the blog current and regular.

So why am I behind? No good reason. Every good reason. Well, no good reason.

Random thoughts ....

My friend Rachel came over and we painted. It was fun and Rachel's painting was a great depiction of what it's like to look at the sky through a forest of Aspens -- a fabulous experience and very worthy of fine painting. I did a self-portrait/Ode to Doogie. It was meant to hang in our new StrangeSugar Tap Room. Unfortunately, last night it fell on the floor and one of the cats urinated on it. Sad. Maybe I will take a picture of it and make it my Facebook Profile Picture.

I was confused and confounded as I watched people protest the closure of parks in Arizona. I dont' like it either, but the sign I saw on the news (Where Will I Camp?) when it seems to me the sign should really say "What Am I Going to Go When I Have a Stroke" when the hospital start closing and EDs are overrun by people who no longer have access to primary care. The budget crisis is amazing and somehow we need to figure out a creative way to get to the other side.

Running. Two trail runs. I am starting to like it. Sometimes. Somedays. Some runs. Really, it's true. And I continue to really like runners. Most of the time. Except when they talk about running a long way. Then, it hurts. My bikes seem to be a bit depressed because they keep getting left behind -- but I will get to them later.

So, words of wisdom? "Believe it or not, Twinkies have an expiration date.... ." Or so says Woody Harrelson as Tallehasse in the movie Zombieland, which Chris is watching right now. We all have an expiration date, so...... Live for the Day, right?

Ahhhhhh, People Are Good

Some days, humankind gets me down. Some days, it frustrates me. Some days, it even makes me cranky. Today, small acts of kindness filled three buses full of medical supplies and other supplies bound for Haiti. All with a little posting on our internal TMC website and a few stories in the local media.

It was kind of a quickly thrown together effort to generate some good will. We put out a little notice to "stuff the bus" with items to go to Tucson nonprofit World Care -- and the response was astonishing.

Here are some notable inspiration from the day (Friends who were there, please feel free to comment) ....

1. One young woman brought up two bags of first aid supplies from CVS, she said it was all she could buy with the money she had left until payday on Thursday. But she wanted to do what she could.
2. Physicians offices dropped off medical gowns, medical tape and other medical items by the cases. Took time from their busy office schedule to stuff the bus.
3. One man from the hospital came over with a large amount of cash. He didn't want a receipt. He wanted to make a difference.
4. A family shopped all weekend for supplies for the bus -- infant formula, disinfecting wipes, beans and rice, and much more. The young girl, apparently, was confused for a while as to exactly who this "Haiti" person was .... but she understand that Haiti needed help. And, that was enough for her!

And, my darling little friend Alejandro was so concerned about the little boys and girls and babies who died in Haiti -- he wanted to drive the shuttle there. I explained that the shuttle wouldn't do so well going over the ocean, but we would make sure all the donations got there safely. He didn't understand exactly where Haiti was or exactly how earthquakes happen (we Googled it together on my Blackberry), but he understood that people were in pain and, hopefully, this was one more life lesson as to how to make a difference one kind-hearted person at a time.

Run Fat Girl Run

I am not a runner. My family runs -- but I -- being a rebel -- do not. I do lots of other things, but I do not run. Now, this gets complicated because occasionally I agree to do some sort of running event. It's not typically a 5K or a 10K or even a one mile fun run. No, really the only running events I seem to think merit paying good money for are half marathons.

In mid-October 2009, I was having a lovely day with some friends and somewhere between beer, wine and dinner we all agreed to run the PF Chang half marathon in January. Seemed a long way away. I had to ride the 109 version of El Tour de Tucson before 2010 would be even close.

Well, October passed, El Tour passed and I had to train -- running miles and miles and miles. One training run in Sahaurita -- I stopped running (about mile 9.5) when I saw elephants in the park across the street. That became a rule -- you see elephants, you stop running. I have other rules and gimics and tricks to get me to run.

Shortly after we set this goal, I did a long bike ride and then, for some reason, watched the New York Marathon on television. Weird to watch a marathon on TV. They were following the leaders including Paula Radcliffe who, apparently was not having a good day. The announcer almost gleefully noted that Paula was running a "pedestrian" 5:51 pace. Holy cow, I thought. If that is pedestrian, I am apparently sleeping when I run.

Regardless, I try to keep my commitments so after El Tour I started training. And running and training. And last weekend, I completed the half marathon amongst a group of real runners, several of whom ran the full marathon. When I crossed the finish line very far behind where I wanted to be and not very happy, I decided to just put a smile on my face, but to let people know I wasn't going to run any more. Ever.

Amazingly, or perhaps not so amazingly, the people who I knew who also ran -- people who completed the marathon in around 4 hours or quicker -- and others completed the half marathon a good 45 minutes before me -- were quick to see something in me I have never seen. A runner. A slow runner. Who sometimes limps because her funky toe doesn't bend right. But, a runner nevertheless.

I am not quite there in my head. Not ready to say I am a runner. But, with the encouragement of friends, I am signing up for more races and foot adventures. Run Fat Girl Run.....