toastier.orgtag:www.toastier.org,2010-04-24://12010-07-29T02:02:11Z"One can never have enough socks."Movable Type Pro 5.01High fivetag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5352010-07-29T01:21:51Z2010-07-29T02:02:11Z I left work buried in my thoughts, my brow furrowed as I walked down the street. I guess I looked angry? Frustrated? Then all of the sudden, out of nowhere, this tall guy walking in the opposite direction held...Amy
I left work buried in my thoughts, my brow furrowed as I walked down the street. I guess I looked angry? Frustrated? Then all of the sudden, out of nowhere, this tall guy walking in the opposite direction held up his hand and said, "High five!?" In that short moment, I went from pensive to completely surprised to happily surprised to ecstatic. My face must have lit up because his initially hesitant expression broke into a big smile. So I wound up, jumped and high-fived him epically in the middle of the sidewalk. We both cracked up as we continued walking our separate ways, blending back into the rush hour crowds.
I love this city.]]>
Summer thingstag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5342010-07-25T20:02:00Z2010-07-26T00:15:03Z One of my favorite things to do during the summer is sit outside on a porch and watch storms pass by. I used to be afraid of thunderstorms, but somehow I've grown out of that fear and really enjoy...Amy
One of my favorite things to do during the summer is sit outside on a porch and watch storms pass by. I used to be afraid of thunderstorms, but somehow I've grown out of that fear and really enjoy them now. There's something incredibly cathartic about it, exciting and relaxing all at once. And I think that's one defining characteristic of a non-native New Yorker, at least from observation. The other night, a classic summer storm swept through the city: lots of lightning, deep rumbles of thunder that blended in with the traffic noise, high wind and furious rain. I was sitting in an ice cream shop in Brooklyn, happily watching it blow by and patiently waiting for it to pass. Other people had taken cover in the same shop and they were sort of freaking out. "Ohmygod did you see that lightning??" "We are going to be stuck here forever." "They have to cancel the show. I mean, there's lightning. No way." "IT'S SO WINDY." The younger crowd were most vocal; I glanced around at the older crowd and their expressions were either amusement (at the kids) or slightly tense. Heavy storms pass through the city from time to time, but no one actually wants to sit and watch them pass by. Everyone has to be somewhere, and it's almost an inconvenience when these downpours happen. But in there, I know everyone enjoys it a little bit. Because it's ridiculously hilarious when you have to run through it. Believe me, it takes one to know.
Another one of my favorite things to do during the summer is sit by the ocean and eat ice cream (at sunset or at night). Maybe it has something to do with the salty air and sweetness of the ice cream, I don't know, but I like doing it. So the other night, Rachel and I got ice cream and sat by the fountain in Washington Square Park. There was a slight breeze every so often, and the mist was just right for such a hot, humid night. Kids splashed around in the water and we people-watched in general as the sounds of the park surrounded us: an acappella group by the arch behind us, a bluegrass sounding band to the left, a street performance group to the right (which I would later partake) and conversations of all kinds in a variety of languages. Despite the sticky weather, it was just one of those nice summer nights. At least for me, it was really nice to just sit and not think about too much. And I think, a testament to a good friendship is knowing that not every moment needs to be filled with something, that sometimes sitting together silently is okay because all that nothing is actually something.]]>
Untitled, IVtag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5332010-07-20T02:12:39Z2010-07-20T02:49:19Z It's not so much about the wins or losses, triumphs or tragedies—it's about the character and the compassion....Amy
It's not so much about the wins or losses, triumphs or tragedies—it's about the character and the compassion.]]>
Revisitingtag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5322010-07-16T20:57:21Z2010-07-16T21:09:24Z A few days ago I plucked Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close off my bookshelf and began to read it again. It's one of my favorite books. I haven't read it in a few years now but it's just as...Amy
A few days ago I plucked Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close off my bookshelf and began to read it again. It's one of my favorite books. I haven't read it in a few years now but it's just as good as I remember it being. Except this time around, I startled myself with the emotions it evoked. The tears kept coming, as I silently and quickly wiped them away. Crying on the subway is a strange thing. People see you, and you can always tell they're conflicted: should I ask if she's alright? Or should I let her be? I feel the same way. I've asked people a few times if they're okay, and I almost always get the "Yeah, I'm fine... just... a bad day..." or a laugh through the tears because that's what you do when a random person asks if you're okay on the subway. So, I guess, it never hurts to ask. The worst that can happen is they lash out at you.
Anyway, I was so startled by my tears. I guess quite a few things have happened to me since I last read the book, and I could just identify more with the feelings and the words. And I think that's what happens when you revisit something some time later. Whether it be a book, a film, a place or a person, there's almost always a different perspective the second time around. It's like a second chance at something, and you get to experience it again in a whole other way, for better or for worse.]]>
It's just hottag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5302010-07-07T01:14:23Z2010-07-08T02:01:09Z There's a point when it's so hot, it's just... hot. Numbers don't mean anything. You can tell me that it's 103 degrees, and I'll just tell you, "It's hot." Every time I stepped out, I shook my head and...Amy
There's a point when it's so hot, it's just... hot. Numbers don't mean anything. You can tell me that it's 103 degrees, and I'll just tell you, "It's hot."
Every time I stepped out, I shook my head and told myself, "Alright, I just need to go down the street and around the corner." Staying in the shadows of the buildings is always key, not that it stops the sweat but at the very least you don't feel like you're standing next to the sun.
The sweat. It is inevitable. Everywhere. Backs, necks, under the arms, down the face, feet, behind the knees...
Maybe it's just how the city is, filled to the brim with people. I've felt Arizonan heat, Floridian heat and Californian heat. Each was different: dry, humid, somewhat pleasant. But New York heat somehow manages to stand on its own. The people, the energy, the stifling air.
The air. It is thick. You can tell by the way cigarette smoke just hangs in the air, with nowhere to go. Usually it disperses quickly, but on days like these, the smoke lingers. Enter the innocent pedestrian, walking right into it, taking a full breath. That's where it goes.
It may be hot on the streets, but underground is a whole other story. Ducking into the subway, I felt like I was going towards the center of the Earth. That's expected. You can only hope the trains have air conditioning, but if they don't... oh, well. Usually you can tell which cars don't have air running because there aren't as many people. But when it's rush hour and people are trying to get home, it doesn't matter. Like numbers don't matter. I stepped into the car and whoosh, even hotter air hit me. Everyone in the car was sweating, slightly red, slightly woozy. I moved in towards the other side, knowing it would only get more crowded. By the time we hit 34th Street, the car was packed to the max. The mixture of bodies and heat made the air almost unbreathable, suffocating even. I smiled to myself as a guy commentated. "People backing up, going 'Fuck this shit'," as I watched several people trying to enter back away from our crowded and overheated car. "Look at those people, all relaxed and cool," as I watched the 2 train run alongside us, emptier and no doubt, air conditioned. "I'm hoppin' on that train!" as I watched the guy commentating run across the platform into, what was probably heaven.
I think it's time for another mix! This is more towards what I've been listening to lately, and I hope you like it. Here's to summer. A hot, hot summer.]]>
Happy 4th!tag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5292010-07-05T02:18:26Z2010-07-05T02:26:48Z "There was only one night game a year. On the 4th of July, the whole sky would brighten up with fireworks, giving us just enough light for a game. We played our best game because I guess we all...Amy
"There was only one night game a year. On the 4th of July, the whole sky would brighten up with fireworks, giving us just enough light for a game. We played our best game because I guess we all felt like big leaguers under the lights of some great stadium." -- The Sandlot
Happy 4th of July, everyone! Celebrating 234 years. Rock, flag and eagle.]]>
Book suggestions, part 3tag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5282010-07-01T02:20:44Z2010-07-01T02:57:41Z Right now I'm sitting by my window, savoring one of those cool summer breezes. It has been absolutely sweltering the past few days, but today... today was so welcome, so wonderful and so light. I wish the weather could...Amy
Right now I'm sitting by my window, savoring one of those cool summer breezes. It has been absolutely sweltering the past few days, but today... today was so welcome, so wonderful and so light. I wish the weather could be like this all the time.
Naturally, the coolness of the night makes me want to curl up with a book and read until I fall asleep. Except, I don't really have much. I'm in the midst of reading Freakonomics (so incredibly interesting) and sort of began Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, but decided to take a small break from it. The last book I read was Born to Run. Which I can't stop talking about. Have I told you about it? It is such a great book, I keep telling people to read it. Runner or not, athlete or not, read it, read it, read it. The story is really something, there's an intriguing topic, and it wonderfully shows that anthropologists are the eccentric aunts and uncles of the science community. I say that proudly and with affection, because that's what I studied in college and aspire to be. Yes, I want to be an eccentric aunt.
Other than that, I don't really know what's good these days in the book world. So please suggest away!
(Previously: Book suggestions?, Book suggestions, part 2)]]>
World Cup 2010tag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5262010-06-19T15:21:14Z2010-06-19T17:15:41Z We were down 2-1, last I checked before leaving for my lunch break to find Tall-J at the local bar. The sun was out, and I was starting to sweat as I made my way down the street. I...Amy
We were down 2-1, last I checked before leaving for my lunch break to find Tall-J at the local bar. The sun was out, and I was starting to sweat as I made my way down the street. I ducked inside, told the person I was looking for a friend, plunged back into the game on screen and then—
"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAALLLLL!!!!!"
Screams, cheers and whoops erupted around me, shaking the place from head to toe. Hands went up in the air, high fives were thrown. The guy in front of me screamed, "YAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!" And threw his arms around me, crushing me in a massive bear hug. I laughed and laughed, happily joining in on the cheers that we tied Slovenia.
"U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!"
The chants began as I navigated my way to Tall-J (and company), whom I spotted after I was let go by the bear hug man. Replays were shown, and the cheers kept coming.
So, I guess if you read what I tweet, I'm pretty sure 99% of the time, it's about sports. I don't know if it annoys people or they just go with it, but I can't help it. I love sports. I love playing them, and I love watching them. As a fan, you support and you help keep your favorite team's morale going by cheering or quietly understanding that your favorite players are trying their hardest when they're down. If it's not your team or sport, you enjoy it for what it is and get wrapped up in the excitement of "Who's going to win?" As a player, there is this passion and fire. When you're down, you're itching to make a come back. When you're up, you're itching to pull away and win it. And that whole idea of a team: how you lean on each other, how you help each other, how you rise and you fall together. It's all so thrilling, electrifying and nailbiting.
A free kick was coming from the Donovan and—
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH YEAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!"
I jumped up with everyone else, yelling. Goal! Goal! We're up 3-2! We're gonna win—
The celebrating subsided as we watched the screen. Foul?! No goal?! Boos filled the bar.
"The ref-er-ee's a wanker! The ref-er-ee's a wanker!"
Another replay flashed on screen.
"There's no foul!" yelled someone behind me. "He was not offside!" yelled someone in front of me. I, personally, didn't see anything wrong with the play. There was some pushing and shoving and holding between players but... it should have been the winning goal.
"Buuullll-shit... bullll-shit... bullll-shit..."
I laughed as this chant began. The time was ticking down with only a few minutes to play. Slovenia kept at it but the end result was a draw. It was a thrilling comeback from being down 2-0, and we get another chance against Algeria. Keep the dream alive, USA!
I said goodbye to everyone as I ducked back out and walked back to work. I didn't see the bear hug man as I left, which was okay, as I massaged my ribs. One of my favorite lunch breaks, ever? I think so, I think so.]]>
People who glowtag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5252010-06-15T03:38:24Z2010-06-15T03:57:48Z I'm surrounded by people who are enthusiastic and passionate about what they do and want to do. For a long time, I always had this yearning, this... want to be like them. I was so taken that all I...Amy
I'm surrounded by people who are enthusiastic and passionate about what they do and want to do. For a long time, I always had this yearning, this... want to be like them. I was so taken that all I wished for was to have lives like theirs. But now, I'm just happy to know people like this. I'm happy to know that there are good, passionate people... people who glow. And that yearning? That yearning has turned into some kind of beautiful inspiration.
Each of us is our own person. The things we love, enjoy and do are what makes each of us so unique and wonderful. Sometimes I have to remind myself of that.]]>
Latelytag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5242010-06-10T02:23:34Z2010-06-10T03:33:35Z "Step in and stand clear of the closing doors, please. Thank you." For the third time in the past two weeks, I've managed to catch the same 1 train with the conductor that sounds like a young James Earl...Amy
"Step in and stand clear of the closing doors, please. Thank you." For the third time in the past two weeks, I've managed to catch the same 1 train with the conductor that sounds like a young James Earl Jones. I smiled, soaking in the unique voice yet again.
--
Marx Brothers' films always cheer me up. I was chuckling during The Cocoanuts when Hammer (Groucho) says, "Why, it's the most exclusive residential district in Florida. Nobody lives there." My favorite is Duck Soup, and it's also one of my favorite films of all time. There's no one like Rufus T. Firefly. I'd suggest starting off with Duck Soup if you haven't seen any of their films, and then Animal Crackers, where you'll forever think of elephants when you hear Tuscaloosa. (Because in Alabama, the Tuscaloosa! Get it? Get it? Maybe it makes more sense with the whole quote...)
--
I think people are disappointed in me. At least, that seems like the general feeling. That, or they feel sorry for me. I don't know which one I would prefer: disappointment or pity.
--
Crif dogs, cupcakes and coffee with Marianne and Rachel. What? I finally met Marianne, and she's awesome like her writing. She's a good storyteller and likes to tease Rachel. I'm still laughing about the beatboxing...
--
One of my favorite things is when people react the same way to a scene of a film in the theater, whether it's squirming uncomfortably or half-shielding their eyes with one hand. You can feel that tension rise and then a collective sigh of relief afterwards.
--
I saw my favorite photographer at the Ukranian diner I frequent the other night. My mouth fell open as I struggled to keep myself together. My friend's eyes widened when she saw my face. "Amy, what? What's wrong?" I managed to string together a few words. I saw that he was leaving, but with his family and, I think, another friend. It didn't seem right to intrude, much like how you would leave a celebrity alone if you saw him or her with his or her family. I think I stopped breathing for those few moments until he and his family and friend walked out of my sight. "Amy, Amy, are you okay?" I shook my head. I was in a tizzy. I'll meet him one day, I know I will. He really is an inspiration to me, and a kind person, too. I've written to him a few times, and he has always thoughtfully responded. There's this one email that has been sitting in my inbox for months now. I keep it there because it reassures me. He ends the email with, "Be well and take care of yourself. Write me if you need to. I'm easy to find."
]]>
Familiartag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5222010-05-29T02:08:33Z2010-05-29T03:05:46Z "Hi, I'm Amy." I stuck out my hand as I introduced myself. We could have stood silently, waiting for the elevator but I felt compelled to have a small conversation after a long day. "I'm Brooke," she said as...Amy
"Hi, I'm Amy." I stuck out my hand as I introduced myself. We could have stood silently, waiting for the elevator but I felt compelled to have a small conversation after a long day.
"I'm Brooke," she said as she shook my hand. She was much taller than me, thin, with a nurturing voice. We talked about little things, things "grown ups" usually talk about--work, office stories and more work. A brief pause and then, as if it had been on her mind the whole time, "You look really familiar. Have we met before?"
This happens to me quite often and, I guess I just have one of those faces that reminds people of someone they knew or know. I remember once, when I was 10 or 11, I was leaving the music store after a piano lesson when I heard a lady softly calling out, "Rose... Rose... Rose..." I didn't really pay attention to it because there were a few other people around. I was almost out the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and found myself face-to-face with an elderly lady. Her eyes searched my face before landing on my eyes. Her eyes were blue, verging on gray. I imagined how blue her eyes must have been when she was younger, how they must have pierced so many, how they must have drawn so many in. "Rose?" I remembered shaking my head and saying, "I-I'm sorry. I don't... I don't know who that is. It's not me." Something in her eyes changed and she dropped her gaze. "Oh," she said. With one word, she overwhelmed me with her sadness. She let go of my shoulder and quietly shuffled away. I hope she found Rose.
I studied Brooke's face quickly, taking in her earthly eyes, sun-kissed skin and the beginnings of some wrinkles in the friendliest way. There's no way we could have met; she looks much older than me, I thought. And I've never met a Brooke before! When I say "much older," I don't just mean physically but I also mean she looked more mature, like she has been through things I have yet to experience (the eyes always give it away).
"Are you from Jersey?" I asked, answering her question with a question.
"No... Colorado," she replied, pronouncing Colorado like caah-lah-rah-doe. "But, I mean, I've been in New York for... 12 years now. It's been so long, I consider myself a New Yorker."
A pause.
"Do I look familiar to you?" she asked.
Strange as it was, despite growing up in different places, she really did look familiar. I felt like I knew her from another time, another life. "You actually do..." I said, trailing off. We both looked at each other, wondering and wondering. The elevator arrived and we talked a bit more on the way down. Once we exited the building, we both said goodbye and goodnight.
This weekend is the start of summer, and I hope everyone enjoys it! For me, it's a much needed long weekend to recuperate after a horrifying week. So I threw together a little mix of songs here, a bit of soul and blues. Cheers!]]>
On fries, part 2tag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5212010-05-25T02:43:52Z2010-05-29T03:10:51Z You guys, serious question time. Last time I asked whether you liked McDonald's or Burger King fries, but this time... Curly fries or waffle fries? (With apologies to jojo, shoestring and crinkle fries.) I've asked this question in person...Amy
(With apologies to jojo, shoestring and crinkle fries.) I've asked this question in person a few times, but I've polished it a little bit--seasoning is out of the question. Straight up, curly or waffle. It's all about the shape and texture. Do you want to curl or would you rather waffle about?
After much thought, I'm siding with curly fries.
Addendum Well then, curly fries win hands down! With one waffle lover, one skinny fry lover and one fry-lover all around. You guys are great, answering my silly questions. ]]>
Well, that was slightly unsettlingtag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5202010-05-23T00:51:08Z2010-05-23T02:44:06Z I was doing a cool down walk after running several of miles (I have somehow lodged in my head that I will run an ultramarathon; I swear I'm not crazy... maybe a little) when I found myself alone on...Amy
I was doing a cool down walk after running several of miles (I have somehow lodged in my head that I will run an ultramarathon; I swear I'm not crazy... maybe a little) when I found myself alone on a street. Just as I was realizing this, an unmarked white van slowly turned onto the street and slowed to a stop. My first thought was, "Shhhhhit." Now, I'm usually okay with walking alone on empty streets, day or night. I have my cell phone on me and I feel pretty good. But when I'm out running, I got nothing. Maybe the ominous dark clouds rolling in played a part or the fact that TV and movies have forever etched into my brain unmarked white vans equal not a good end. The point is, I felt really, really unsettled. I was already halfway down the street, so I was equal distance from a way out. The van began to creep along the street, inevitably towards me.
In this moment, my life sort of flashed before my eyes. I thought about everything and about the things I still wanted and needed to do. The life I lead is small, but it's no less important than the next. I glanced up briefly and found the windows of the van tinted. "Great," I thought, "I can't even make out who's in there." My mind continued to churn out happy memories, sad memories and memories I still wanted to make. Then the questions came: Would anyone miss me? What would life be like without me? Will everyone be okay? Will they find me? It was all so morbid.
The van was closing in now as I continued to walk in its direction. I could have simply turned around and ran the other way, but I didn't. (I actually don't know why I didn't just turn around.) My morbid thoughts were immediately replaced with fight or flight. I quickly calculated the distance I had to sprint, figured at least two people were ready to hop out and how fast the driver could maneuver the van. My mind was in overdrive. "Kick everyone in the crotch, throw the best uppercuts my brother has taught me, chest and neck areas..." My big brother, he'd be proud of me.
My heart was pounding in my ears. The van and I were parallel to each other now, but I kept looking ahead pretending to be unaware. I kept walking, kept breathing, kept living. The van, after pausing for a few moments, continued on. I let out a huge sigh of relief. I listened, making sure it didn't suddenly turn around. The sound of the engine grew more distant and then, as I rounded the corner, I full-on sprinted. I kept going until I found people, anyone. Never have I been more glad to see people. I eased to a light jog and eventually started to walk again.
I guess it was all a little silly, but my mind went into high alert the moment that van turned onto the street. Sometimes you just have a feeling, and gut feelings are usually the strongest and truest.]]>
Captain-Ptag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5192010-05-17T02:14:32Z2010-05-18T01:12:33Z I don't post many photos of people here (Rachel was first), but here's to many more, I think, I hope. (points to photo) That is Captain-P, and he'd probably tell you that he has some pretty ridiculous facial hair...Amy
I don't post many photos of people here (Rachel was first), but here's to many more, I think, I hope.
(points to photo) That is Captain-P, and he'd probably tell you that he has some pretty ridiculous facial hair going on there. You've probably seen him leave comments around here or seen me mention him here from time to time. He's one of my closest friends. I've known him since high school, although we weren't quite friends then, we acknowledged each other. We sort of got to know each other better during college, despite going to schools on opposite ends of the country. Then real life began, and we came to be great friends. He asks thought-provoking questions and gently pushes my boundaries, which I've come to appreciate. Life experiences shape you (for better or for worse), but having someone there to challenge you shapes you in a different kind way.
Captain-P and I are opposites, and I think that's why our friendship works. We have similar interests, but beyond that, we're as opposite as you can get. He has more punk, I have more soul; he's more open, I am quiet; he lives in the moment, I observe the moment; he's impatient, I'm patient; he overthinks and overpacks for trips, I sorta wing it and pack just enough; he has historical and literary trivia, I have pop culture trivia; and good god, do we disagree on the ending of Harry Potter (I liked how it ended, okay??).
But through all of this and the hardships endured, he's still there. He still takes time to talk to me, still keeps up with me, still continues to chip away at my layers. Even though he can be impatient, his patience with me is something I hold dear. I hope everyone finds and knows someone like that in their lives.
We've walked down different paths through the years and very much so continue to walk down different ones. We live nowhere near each other now, but our lives do intersect in little spurts of time, lasting only for a few fleeting moments. Just as we catch our breath and finally say "hey!", the waves wash away our footprints again and we both return to our respective paths. But I know, no matter what, in the end, he's still there, he's got my back. And I think that, if you've got a friend like that, a friend who appreciates you for who you were then and especially for who you are now (and will be), I think that's the kind of friend you don't let go.
So if the world ended, and we were the last ones standing, I'd look over at him and say, "All that matters is you and me. You and your cape, and me and my mask. Up up and away!"]]>
5K'dtag:www.toastier.org,2010://1.5182010-05-08T23:12:00Z2010-05-08T23:31:39Z The sun was peeking through before, but now the clouds were back. Everyone was talking, waiting and smiling as it was about to start. I glanced down and wriggled my toes in my very worn sneakers, which I've been...Amy
The sun was peeking through before, but now the clouds were back. Everyone was talking, waiting and smiling as it was about to start. I glanced down and wriggled my toes in my very worn sneakers, which I've been reluctant to give up after all these years. They've graced the dirt paths in the far reaches of France and England, a time and place I hold dear. I smiled to myself as I looked at my mismatched ugly purple shorts and brown t-shirt, featuring my friend's now defunct band. This is what I wear, this is what I'm comfortable in. I glanced around at the beautiful sneakers, the appropriate shirts and gadgetry around arms. But I feel no different, we're all here together. Drops began to fall and everyone looked up. "It couldn't wait until after, huh?" said the man beside me. I laughed and said, "Maybe it'll just be a few drops." A brief pause, as the crowd subsided, ready. Then the horn blared and we were off.
I ran my first 5K earlier this morning, and it was exhilarating. There were people around every bend, cheering you on, telling you "You're doing great! Keep going!" I wouldn't consider myself a serious runner, but I do love to run. Several of my friends jokingly tell me, "I only run when a bear is chasing me." Well, I guess I would, too. I tend to spend my weekends running--it soothes me, it lets me vent my frustration, it allows my brain to be blank, it lessens the pain of heartbreak, it makes me feel free. Often times I do my best thinking when I'm running (I prefer to cry in the shower and read while on the toilet). But I run because I can. I hear my feet hit the pavement (or trails) rhythmically and my breath quicken and slow; I feel my muscles ache and my lungs expand. I simply breathe and enjoy what is. And how wonderful it can be.
So a little over a month ago, I decided to sign up for my first 5K. Aside from the simple joy of running, I felt having something to focus on would take my mind off of things. For the first time, I instilled some kind of "training" regimen for myself to follow. I revived my WalkJogRun account, planned routes and bought a $9 watch to keep my time (I don't have any fancy gadgetry). My weeknights were scattered small half-mile runs, probably my favorites because they were during the night when most were asleep, and it just felt like me and the world. But my Saturdays were my long runs, and I upped my distance until I hit the beloved three mile mark. I knew last weekend I could run three miles straight and that if I could do that plus the extra tenth on the actual day, I would be more than content. Meanwhile, I fell a little bit more in love with peanut butter.
But don't think this "training" made running less fun. I actually felt the same, just silly old me with the same mismatched ugly purple shorts and brown t-shirt. When race day came, I felt good. I kept my pace and just enjoyed the scenery, really. It was a beautiful route, and the skies eventually cleared and the sun high-fived all of us again. I didn't expect two uphill climbs, but I took them in stride (literally) and enjoyed the unexpected challenge.
Near the last stretch, a lady caught up with me. Breathless, she said, "I didn't think I could do this!" She was smiling so much, it made me smile even more. She told me, still breathless, how she usually powerwalks and that this was her first time running. As we rounded the last bend, she began to walk. Still smiling, she shook her head. I slowed down and said, "Come on! We're almost there!" She looked at me, smiled even more and began to run again. Then, in the sincerest and most grateful voice, she looked at me and said, "Thank you." In that small moment, I was rendered speechless. It was the most genuine "thank you" I had ever received from a stranger. All I could muster was a smile to match hers and a quiet but heartfelt, "You're welcome." We sprinted towards the finish, all smiles, together. Afterwards, I gave her a big hug and she said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" And I said, "You did it!" She smiled broadly and waved goodbye, as she joined her family. My feeling of finishing was overshadowed by hers, and I could not have been happier. I have never met someone who smiled so much, that even her voice was smiling.
So I finished my first 5K, and just like I told myself, I was more than content. To celebrate my little feat, I lopped off a good chunk of my hair and had some tasty chocolate milk.]]>