Heatless in Seattle

Q: Who the hell disembowels their entire heating unit to make way for a new one during the month of January?

A: We do.

Yep, we're the smart ones here! Thought it would be a fine time to install a new heat pump and de-commission the old oil burning furnace. Why not? Oil costs three times as much as a forced air unit AND we will have central air conditioning come summer!

But doing it in January? O.k., maybe not the smartest thing, given that today is only Monday and they've managed to only rip out the existing air ducts. But the good news is that the temperature outside isn't too bad (it's 50 degrees here at 7:00 p.m.) and the house is holding at 66 degrees.

Ask me how it's going by Friday, though. I mean, I'm not glued to the Weather Channel to get my 5-day extended forecast, but I suspect we won't be experiencing a cold front anytime too soon.

Let's hope I'm right.

Happy New Year

I kind of fell off the blogging bandwagon--well, actually, I didn't--just with my own blog. See, I got this gig a few months ago, to write for my neighborhood blog, and that's been keeping me plenty busy. I like it. It makes me feel like I'm tuned-in to my community, and even though it's a non-paying gig, it forces me to write every few days. I needed something like that to keep me writing, because I suck at self-discipline.

So yeah, that, and I've been a running fool. In 2009, I ran five half marathons, and I'm about to do another one in two weeks, but the top of my foot is super sore. It's right where the top part of my foot connects with my ankle. I have no idea where how this little nag came about, but it started bothering me yesterday. I did some speed work this morning, and had forgotten all about it--until I started walking around the house. So, with Pa gone for the rest of the week, at least I can take a little rest and hope that by Saturday, I'll be o.k. to do a long run. I don't know what I would do if I had to stop running. It's really helped me through my grief over my mom's death. And also now that it's dark--and will continue to be dark until July--the running keeps me from going bat-shit.

We spent the holidays here at home, and it was actually pretty nice. Pa took time off from work for the two weeks and the four of us just kinda cocooned. No complaints--even from the kids--no boredom, no fighting, no bickering. All was pretty mellow, and during that time, I swear, Little Miss La increased her language by 20%. Now, she's saying lots of cool phrases. Like today, after Pa took down the tree, she said, "What happened? Christmas is all done!" Really, really cute.

I owe a lot of her language development to Mr. Na. He's been playing with her a lot and she just digs hanging out with him and likes to imitate him. But, what's cute about that is that she gets it--she doesn't just mimic, she says things she learned from Mr. Na at appropriate times.

Well, I'm off to bed. We're in the process of getting a heat pump installed (yay central ac!) But we have a haz-mat team coming in tomorrow to get rid of some asbestos tape in the basement. Ick!

Privyet! Signing off for now...

Hey folks! If you've received a non-authorized code on Privyet, our apologies. We've restricted access to the blog, going forward, as it seems the sensible thing to do. If you'd still like to follow the blog, drop us an e-mail to lfemmemonkita@gmail.com and we'll sign you up. We've appreciated the many readers who have followed the blog before, during, and after our adoption and we thank you for your kindness and support.

Respectfully,
PaNaMaLa

Race Report: Nike Women's Marathon

I left Seattle during a torrential rainstorm on Saturday morning only to emerge from the Powell Street BART Station to gloriously blue skies and temperatures in the high 60s. It wasn't a bad way to start off the weekend, and I was glad I listened to my instincts and packed summer running gear for the race.

The entire city buzzed with marathon fever, with Union Square serving as ground zero. Huge tents covered the center of the Square for race participants to pick up their packets; and beyond the Square, Niketown was lined with people searching for their name on the outer west wall of the store. I found mine and proudly snapped a picture. I don't what it is that makes people proud to see their names displayed, but I do admit it was exciting. I felt as though I was an important part of a whole, albeit a 1/20,000th part!

Niketown was too hot and too crowded to enjoy shopping for official marathon apparel, so I decided it walk to my hotel to unload my backpack and check-in for the night. Afterward, I had hours to shop--ALONE! I can't tell you how excited I was just to roam around from store to store without fulfilling the needs of someone else.

Everything pretty much went off without a hitch for me on Sunday morning. My alarm went off at 5:30 and I had a really great night's sleep. I caffeinated and walked back down to Union Square and found my pace "street", which was Powell (each pace group literally had their own street on which to start!). I fell in line in-between the St. Francis Hotel and the west side of Union Square and waited for the countdown.

I crossed the starting line 7 minutes after gun time--not bad for having to coordinate starting times for 20,000 people. At least I didn't have to wait around for 30 minutes like I did during the Rock 'n Roll Marathon!

I started off slowly--perhaps too slow. I guess I was concerned about the hills between miles 6-9, which were inside the Presidio. I didn't want to run out of steam mid-race like I did during the Mercer Island Marathon, where, by mile 9, I was toast after all of the hills. I think in hindsight, though, I could have pushed a little harder because really, I only lost ten seconds total during the race from where I was at the start, pace-wise, and I did have some extra energy toward the tail-end of it. Unfortunately, it was too late to try and make up some of that extra time.

But speaking of hills, they were everything people warned me about...and then some. The first hill, at Mile 6, was heading up into the Presidio, and the only thing that took my mind off of it's daunting pitch was seeing one woman go behind the park sign to drop trou' and do her business. Sad thing was, she wasn't anywhere near the sign when she pulled her pants down, so a thousand of us got to see a full moon rise in the east. I guess...when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Unfortunately, too, after enduring a three-mile stretch of long hills with steep pitches, the Golden Gate Bridge was shrouded in too much fog for viewing. So the only redemption was the longish downhill, which didn't last long enough, in my opinion. As we headed into one of my favorite SF neighborhoods adjacent to the park, the slopes offered little reprieve. It wasn't until we approached the Great Highway, as we viewed the Sutro Bathouses and Seal Rock were we able to get any real traction...and that was at Mile 10.

If I had any complaints about the race it was in dealing with the walkers on the course. Now, don't get me wrong--I'm all for doing a walk/run if that's your thing. And, seriously, I'm not that fast of a runner, so I'm not saying this to be an elitist snob. But I had several near-misses with other racers who, without any warning, and right in the middle of the road, would STOP first, then walk. If you're gonna do a walk/run, you should at least have the common courtesy to stay off to the side. My near collisions resulted in giving a few people flat tires (stepping on the backs of their shoes) and I'm sure those people were equally annoyed with me. But, STAY TO THE SIDE! DON'T STOP RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE ON THE COURSE!

My other complaint is similar but much, much worse. As I ran down the Great Highway, after passing Seal Rock and before heading into the park for the final stretch, there were throngs of spectators lining the sides of the road. It felt great hearing the cheers, knowing that the finish line wasn't far away. But as we rounded a bend to enter the park, five spectators stepped off the sidewalk and proceeded to WALK OVER AND STOP right in the middle of the course! I'm not kidding--they STOPPED and looked like frickin' deer caught in the headlights. What the fuck were these people thinking? I mean, I wasn't the only one who had to stop short to keep from completely plowing into these people. There were dozens of runners AROUND me! I shouted, "ARE YOU SERIOUS? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?" And yeah, I had THAT much time to stop and say those words. That's how bad it was.

You know, when I paced for the Seattle Rock 'n Roll Marathon, and we approached the downtown surface streets, there were also hundreds of spectators lining the street. The main differences between the ones in Seattle and the ones in San Francisco were the police officers and the barricades that kept idiots off the course. I don't remember seeing any police OR barricades in that area, which happened to be have the most spectators (which makes sense since the finish line was so close). When you have so many people running in a race, the most important thing to think about, in my opinion, is everyone's safety. It just ISN'T safe for asshole spectators to walk across the race course.

Some more highlights of the race? Oh yes, I've failed to mention the finisher's medal: a sterling silver necklace from Tiffany featuring an engraved runner and the race's slogan, "Run Like a Girl". These were presented to each finisher by some fine-looking firefighters in tuxedos. The necklace--my necklace--made running this crazy, hilly, stupid-spectator race totally worthwhile.

Some honorable mentions of the race include the Ghiradelli Chocolate given to runners at Mile 11 (not so much for my benefit since I eat Snicker's mini bars while I race, but, you know...awesome chocolate!) And I loved the Finisher's Village for several reasons: first, I was handed bagels, chocolate milk, bananas, Kashi with yogurt AND a Safeway shopping tote specially made with the "Run Like a Girl" theme as we were herded through. And, the most awesomest thing I'd ever seen at a marathon: a changing room! Yes, folks, I'm easy to please, but I can't tell you how awful it is to change out of sopping wet, stinky running apparel while standing in a Porta Potty. Having a changing room made things so much easier that I wish I had brought a towel or a box of baby wipes just so I could wipe off before putting on my clean, dry Finisher's shirt.

I left San Francisco later that day, happy for the excellent weather and proudly wearing my Tiffany necklace. Though it wasn't my best race performance-wise, it was definitely one of my best racing experiences.

Slowly getting back to the swing of things

It's been three weeks today since mom died. I will admit, it does get a little easier each day--especially with the enormous amount of daily noise that comes from two kids. I think having to be "on" all the time has created a natural diversion to feeling sad all the time. When I'm alone, I think more about her death though even then, I'm deeply sad but not in some sort of deep state of paralysis.

After she passed away, I debated on whether or not I should run in the Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco (which takes place this Sunday). I felt like it was too frivolous of a thing to do given the circumstances. But, over time I recognized the importance of living my life and all the great things about it and every one and every thing that makes me happy. Running is definitely high on the list of "things" that make me happy, and so I decided to go to the race. Besides, since this was a lottery draw, the chances of my being able to get in again next year are kinda slim. I've been planning on going to this race since March and I'm really looking forward to it. The views will be stunning and if that isn't enough to entice anyone to want to run the race, the sterling silver Tiffany necklace presented to each participant at the finish line should.

Running is such an instrumental part of my life. When I run alone, it helps me to hear my own thoughts, to think clearly, and sort through stuff in my head. Two days after mom died, I went on a 10-mile run by myself just so I could cry.

Running has also introduced me to a lot of people. I belong to a running group of about 100 people, and of those, 4-6 people (depending on who is training for what race) run together every Saturday. I love listening to everyone's stories and to share a few of my own. We've become quite the training team in every sense of the word in that we cheer each other on, push each other a little harder, and comfort one another in a time of need. When mom died, they all chipped in and bought my family a complete, enormous dinner from Whole Foods. That was, by far, the best thing anyone could ever do for me since the last thing I wanted to do was cook.

So rather than feel guilty for doing something indulgent for myself, I plan to enjoy my time in San Francisco. It'll be nice to get away for a couple of days and fun to run in a race where, at Mile 11, they hand out Ghiradelli chocolate.

Besides, that's what mom would have encouraged me to do.

Thinking Out Loud

Part of my long, drawn-out silence here is due to my mother's sudden passing. She died on September 25, unexpectedly, of a hemorrhage in her lower GI tract. It was an awful way for her to die and, judging by the way she left the world, she wasn't expecting it either. She had been reading in bed around midnight, munching on some butter cookies, when, I imagine, she felt the urge to use the bathroom, and she got up to use it and never left.

I know that much at least because when I went into her apartment a day later, her bedside reading lamp was still burning, her covers were carefully folded back--just enough for her to calmly swing her legs out of bed, and not disrupt the tin of butter cookies lying next to the book, which was placed face-down in order to save her place (she was reading Breaking Dawn, the final installment of the Twilight series).

My mother agreed to babysit for me on Friday afternoon since Pa and I had an appointment later in the day to see a photographer and review pictures he had taken of the family. When I called her an hour before I was scheduled to pick her up, the line was busy. I thought nothing of it until I tried 30 minutes later. I picked Audri up from preschool and we drove over to my mom's apartment. The first wave of panic hit me when I used the buzzer and she didn't respond. After waiting for a few minutes, the mail man let us inide the building. My second wave of panic--which was more like a tsunami--was when I knocked at her door and she didn't answer. I knew she was in there. I knew she was dead. I was too afraid to go inside. Besides, I had Audri in tow.

I called Pa at his office and he told me to pick him up. We drove to our house where he dropped us off. About 20 minutes later, he called to tell me what I had already known. What was worse, though, was the scene he described. She bled everwhere.

For the first few days, I was in too much shock to actually realize my mother was dead. Even after I left my mother's apartment the next day--having grabbed anything that was valuable to our family--and seeing the wake of her trauma, I was more upset by the way in which she died then the fact she was gone. The permanence of it all hadn't yet registered.

By Wednesday of last week, we were able to say our final goodbyes to her in a funeral home before she was cremated. I didn't want her embalmed because it seemed like such a wasteful thing to do; and so the funeral director placed her on a gurney and put a very pretty quilt over her body so that we only saw her head. At first, I was prepared to see something very gruesome and so I didn't want the children to see her until I did first. But everything was fine. In fact, she seemed more at peace than I had ever seen. Every single worry line and crevice on her face was gone.

Seeing her was the turning point between mourning over the horrible way in which she died and coming to grips with the fact that she was gone. The pit in my stomach grew wider, though I was still in tactical mode. By Friday, we had cleared out her apartment completely and donated everything to Goodwill.

Now that I've shifted out of tactical mode, I'm left with my emotions. I've found that if I try and shut out my thoughts during the day, they haunt me at night in my sleep. They wake me until I'm fully conscious.

And so, this is part of my grieving process -- writing about it helps me as I try and make sense of it all. It may take awhile.

My mother was a good person with a heart of gold, but she wasn't always the best mother. Too often, she had let her own thoughts eat away at her as she struggled to cope with the losses in her life. She also made some poor choices in life, which profoundly affected me and my siblings. She never sought help or spoke to anyone about her demons, and she thought she could take care of things herself, even up to the very end, as evidenced by the towel she used to try and clean up the blood she was losing.

But I loved her all the same because...well...because she was Mom and because I don't blame her for her shortcomings. She did the best she could and that was all anyone could ask for.

Race Report: Seattle's Inaugural Rock 'n Roll Marathon

I wasn't sure what to expect for this race. I mean, it seemed like the folks who put on these Rock 'n Roll marathons nationwide would be a lot more organized and well-prepared than the previous Seafair marathons. But I couldn't imagine how tough it'd be to close down several major thoroughfares--not only downtown, but the Viaduct that runs north and south, along the waterfront--on a Saturday, no less. Not to mention, this marathon had sold out in April and there were roughly 25,000 registrants.

So, I guess, in reality, my expectations were pretty low. But I was pleasantly surprised by how well, on the whole, the race was organized. I saw that even at the Health and Fitness Expo the day prior, as I was working our Pace Team booth. On race day, it was clear that the organizers delivered a unique, entertaining race that seemed to run like a well-oiled machine.

Since the race started in an office park in Tukwila, a mini "village" was set up where the racers congregated in the early morning hours. No one was allowed to park in the immediate area, and complementary shuttle buses (school buses, actually!) took people 15 miles from the finish area to the start. I got on one of those buses at 5:00 a.m. when the crowds were just starting to thicken. By 6:00 a.m., the marathon village was packed with people--nibbling on free fruit or bagels, sipping water or Cytomax, or waiting in line for that one last chance to use a Porta Potty.


I thought the bag drop idea was the best yet: the organizers hired 20 UPS trucks and organized them alphabetically for folks to drop their gear. I've never been one to schlep a lot of stuff to a race, but this time I actually packed another shirt and my UGG boots, along with a bottle of Gatorade, and a Balance Bar.

Since it was so early, it was still pretty cold outside. My team uniform was a tank top and shorts. I wore a pullover to the village but since the pacers had to meet at the starting line at 6:15, I had to check it with the rest of my gear early...so I was pretty chilled.

By 6:40, everyone had to be inside their assigned corrals--another new concept for me. Upon registration, each participant was required to jot down a projected finish time, which is then used to group people together according to that time. There were 35 or so corrals, starting with the elite and ending with those finishing over five hours. Since I was a pacer for the two hour, twenty-two minute (2:22) half marathon finishers, my corral was #21. Since I came into the corral with my 2:22 sign, many folks around me introduced themselves and asked me how I'd take us to the finish on time without burning everyone out. I told them I'd start off conservatively since I had run the course before, and knew what to expect elevation-wise. So for me, running negative splits was the way to go. Many people asked me if I had to carry the wooden sign throughout the race to which I replied "yes". Honestly, it wasn't that big of a deal. I'd carried far worse. The Seattle Marathon, for instance, had signs made out of PVC tubing which was a lot thicker around than the little wooden sign I held yesterday. Besides, I had trained holding a water bottle so I was used to holding something for long periods of time.

A lot of my corral mates were newbies, and it was a lot of fun to see their enthusiasm and excitement. It also reinforced the fact that I had to start out slow to conserve energy and that, no matter what, these folks needed to finish by 2:22.

The elite athletes began at gun time and then each corral was released two minutes apart. This meant my corral started 34 minutes AFTER gun time. I was pretty cold, even though the sun was up and the skies were cloudless. I think a lot of my teeth chattering, too, was pre-race jitters (which, no matter how many of these I've done, I still get) and the awesome responsibility of finishing ON TIME. Since we were all being clocked by chip time, our own "clock" didn't begin until after we crossed the starting mat--and that's where I started my Garmin.

The cool thing about the Rock 'n Roll Marathon was that there were local bands playing along the route. There were bands at every mile for the first few miles and then it thinned out as we made our approach to the Express Lanes of I90. But for the most part, the bands and the neighbors along the way provided a party-like atmosphere.

I started out 30 seconds per mile slower than my targeted pace time (a 2:22 finish means 10:50 minutes per mile). I knew I'd be able to close the gap once we finished climbing the hills around the Mt. Baker neighborhood and headed down to Seward Park and Lake Washington. At each passing mile, I'd close the gap by one second. This worked out perfectly because there were a few hills that proved pretty challenging for everyone and I didn't want too many people getting burned out so early on--a common mistake everyone makes, myself included. Besides, this was a super comfortable pace and it felt good and it gave me enough energy to look at our surroundings.

There were a lot of people who stayed with me throughout the race and when I saw someone speeding up, I'd yell: "Pacer back! 2:22 Finishers, be conservative. There are more hills ahead. Just because you feel good now doesn't mean it's gonna last!" A lot of people laughed--many slowed down and thanked me for giving them the advice. These were the people who, once they got all the hills out of the way, made their goal time (some even finished slightly earlier!)

Once we made it down to Seward Park, I let everyone know that we'd have about 4 miles of flat terrain. I cautioned that we can speed up, but only slightly since we had hills climbing up to the I90 Express Lanes ahead. This was where I closed my gap by 20 seconds--keeping my average pace around 11:01. It was there, along Lake Washington, that we spotted a majestic Eagle perched atop a tree branch next to the water. He was only about 50 feet up from us, so we could see how big he was. He looked as if he was enjoying the view of the race from up there. Just beyond the perched Eagle, several others soared around us. It was truly a beautiful sight.

We couldn't have asked for more perfect weather, either. The sky remained cloudless and the temperatures climbed slowly so I never once felt too hot or too cold. It was great, too, because I only slowed for water a few times.

Once we began our ascent to the I90 Express Lanes, at around mile 9, I stopped dropping to my hill climb pace. It's not to say I took off like a bandit up the hills, but I kept a close eye out to maintain my speed. If I dropped down too far, I'd have to make up for it between miles 9-13 and I didn't want to take that risk for fear that fatigue would set in. The group kept up with me--indicating how beneficial it was to start off slow. These hill climbs were short but pretty steep, and the last one wound around to the entrance of the freeway's tunnel.

As we made our way to the tunnel, people cheered loudly--their echoes bouncing off the walls. Everyone knew this was the last leg of the race and that understanding gave everyone extra energy to keep going strong. I felt great too until I glanced at my watch and realized that since I was in the tunnel, I'd lost my GPS reception. I panicked. How far was the tunnel? How long would it be without knowing my pace? Would this completely screw up my average pace? Would my watch adjust itself once I got outside of the tunnel? I think I sped up a little too much in panic. All I wanted to do was get out of the tunnel.

Four minutes later, we emerged. My watch began working again and much to my great joy, it adjusted itself--adding the four minutes and half mile I'd lost while inside. I was pretty stoked.

It was fun to see the runners around me open up their energy reserves and head downtown, even with the last steep hill climb before making out descent toward Qwest Field. I started getting pretty tired. I think I burned too much energy with my panic attack inside of the tunnel! By Mile 11, I just wanted it to end. I was still a little scared I'd bring us in either too early or too late.

The last part of the course was frustrating. Even though we rounded 4th Avenue south, which, if we had made a left turn onto Jackson, we would have run right into Qwest Field, we forged ahead. At the 12 Mile marker, we made a left and then...rather than making another left and doubling back toward Qwest Field, we were led to the Viaduct on ramp. I let out an "ARGH!" I loathe running on the Viaduct--and even though I only had 1.1 miles to go, I knew it'd be a long 1.1 mile. We wound around the viaduct and exited at 1st Avenue. Running PAST Qwest Field again and FINALLY making a left onto Royal Brougham. We made another left again, passing the WaMu Theater and the Expo center when we hit the 13 Mile marker saw the finish line ahead. I opened it up once I saw my watch was at 2:21. I was going to nail 2:22 if it killed me.

I crossed the mat and shut off my watch at 2:22 (official time was 2:22:04!) A woman came up to me and thanked me for keeping her motivated. She said her goal was 2:25 so she was delighted with the extra three minutes.

After I cooled down, I grabbed my stuff from the UPS truck and changed out of my sweaty, drenched top. I felt so much better. I sipped some Cytomax and ate an orange and some Fritos. I ran into a friend of mine--a fellow pacer who did half of the whole marathon and missed her handoff somehow (someone waiting for her to come and step in as a pacer for the second half). She was pretty bummed. This happened to me last year, too, so I knew the feeling.

All things considered, I had a great time. It's always nice to hear positive feedback from people and I'm glad my conservative strategy worked! It was nice to be in a comfortable pace, so I'm not too sore today. I look forward to pacing again in November for the Seattle Marathon!