Pacing

I got roped into pacing for the Seattle Marathon again this year. (Don't you dare roll your eyes at this post and ask, "How does one get 'roped' into anything?" YOU weren't there.)

What's worse is that in the past, we've gotten some schwag for our efforts...so, at least running 13 miles on the Sunday after Thanksgiving in shitty weather while holding a fucking sign for 2 hours and 22 minutes was worth a pair of Asics. This year...THIS YEAR...we get nothing. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada. (Don't you dare roll your eyes at this post and ask, "How does one get 'roped' into pacing without getting anything out of it?" YOU weren't there.)

I resisted responding to the call for pacers this year--especially just having run Portland; but when I was at track a few weeks ago, I overheard that someone who had committed to pacing a leg of the 4:45 needed surgery, and so the group was short a pacer. I agreed to do it because I only need to run 6-8 miles of it, instead of the usual 13.

I guess I can look at the bright side: Maybe this will bring good karma!?

4:30

Someone from our running group has a dad who just ran the NYC Marathon and qualified for Boston. He's 69. I can't tell you how inspiring that is. I mean--G-ack!--the last thing I want to think about is getting older; but let me just say that I'd rather be a 69 year-old Boston qualifier than to never have tried.

Blogger, Interrupted

This has been an incredibly wacky fall, beginning with my big brother's need to surf on our basement couch for 9 weeks. Yes, 9 weeks--the beginning of which I had just accepted a part time job, thinking this would be the perfect time to do it, with La La going to preschool four days a week for four hours a day. Sadly, much of that time was soaked up by the aforementioned couch-surfing sibling; but somewhere in the middle of it all, I ran in the Portland Marathon--my first full marathon in three years. How'd I do? I sucked, thanks. I had planned to finish in 4:30 and I finished 20 minutes later. I blame the rain that wouldn't stop; I blame the shoelace that mysteriously worked itself out of a double-knot after mile 21; I blame the cramp in my knee; and I blame the MAX light rail track I somehow managed to stumble over and roll my ankle at mile 24. So what's next? Eugene on May 1. My splits in Portland were too frickin' good for 21.5 miles for me to be happy with my finish time.

The bright side to all of this is that I HAVE been writing! Every single day, just--not here. It's been a good little writing gig, so far, though it's hard for me to muster up enthusiasm for senior center announcements. I still manage to have some fun with it.

My brother left on Friday and I think the whole household breathed a sigh of relief. So, for me, it means I can focus on the dozen or so things I'm supposed to focus on, and not the one that takes up most of my time and emotions. Maybe, too, this means I'll be making more regular appearances here on Canned Goods. It would seem such a shame to discontinue the same blog I've had for the last six years.

77 Days of Summer

When you live in Seattle, normally the June gloom makes way for the sunny skies and warm temperature trend that begins promptly on July 5 and ends in mid-September.

This year, July 5 came and went with temps so cold and skies so gray, it might as well have been March. Sure, we had some bright, warm days during July, but I could count them on one hand.

When August rolled around, people joked that it was Aug-tober, and the gray days overtook sunny days 2 to 1.

Now it's September and I'm staring at the skies, wondering what the hell happened to our summer. We've been cheated!

I'm a big outdoors person and since I write from home, I make plans to do fun things with the kids during the summer. The three of us love to swim, more than anything, and we could spend hours at an outdoor pool, soaking up the rays and splashing around in the water. This year, we only did that once, and now I'm really glad I didn't pay for a summer membership fee.

In years' past, we've been so miserable in our house during week-long scorchers. So when it came time to de-commission the heating oil tank, we were stoked about getting central air as part of a heat pump package. So this is our first summer having it--and we've barely had to use it. In fact, on days when we did use it, we were freezing!

My husband just came downstairs wearing a long-sleeved shirt underneath a cashmere sweater, and promptly announced, "It's fall!" From a calendar point of view, he's wrong; but weather-wise, he's absolutely right.

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!