A Running post...what do ya know?

So this summer has been a little hairy with running. I'll be the first to admit how much I DESPISE the heat and humidity. So, unless I'm in Otis, I've been on the treadmill 3-4 days a week and then outside on dirt roads the rest. So half and half. But I've been running pretty much every day.

Paul went with me for a few runs in June. I really thought he was getting into the sport again. He pulled his Vibrams on and met me at the corner of the dirt roads, right above the beach. We took off at a casual jaunt. Then we hit the hill on Curtiss Hall. Oh my God. I always forget about this hill. I tried to keep talking and felt like I had a thick wad of cotton in my mouth. We stretched at the corner of Westerly, our turn to head home. Paul did not seem as thrilled about this run as he had when we first started out. I think he made it to the end of Brookman with me before telling me to just go as Moreau Hill loomed ahead of us. That was the last run he went on with me. Now he rides the Solo Wheel, occasionally. I guess that's what all the cool kids do now. Guess I'm not cool for resorting to my own two feet and dirty running shoes. But whatever. My runs are alone now. And I have to say, there's something that goes on during those runs that I wouldn't trade in or change. I see these houses and roads every summer, nearly every day, and they never get boring. I look at them and wonder what their families are like. How do they spend their summer days on the lake? How long have they been there? I know it's weird, but it makes the time pass. Then there are the days when I go way too fast because I see or hear something moving in the woods and my brain immediately reverts to - MOUNTAIN LION! BEAR! GO HOME! Yeah. Not cool. I know I could never out run either. And honestly, I have no tactic if I come across one.

Recently, Land's End has installed (I think that's the proper word here) plastic, yellow speed bumps. These things must be only about 4 inches high and they're two separate little strips that barely reach across the entire road. The first morning I saw them I was like, WHAT?!?!?! And proceeded to jump over them and make a big deal about it. Hey, I run this road every day. Gotta spice it up a little bit. I'm pretty sure these speed bumps are useless other than to be a great tripping device when I'm extremely tired. So, to you Land's End, CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. I can just imagine the homeowners sitting, eating their lovely muffins and drinking their strong coffee, and laughing at the dirty, sweaty runner girl that's trying to "hurdle" these mini speed bumps. Oh well. I guess everyone could use a laugh now or then. I say all this now, but lately, I've been so tired that no hurdling has occurred. I've either stepped over or around them while secretly hoping a huge truck comes blasting through and crushes them to bits or twists and warps them onto the side of the road. They. Are. Pointless.
I'm waiting to see them in my neighborhood next.

In other news, I went for a jetski ride once the weather cleared last weekend. (Can we just discuss how MISERABLE sitting in the house for three days straight trying to watch the Olympics on a poor satellite signal was? Stupid Rain. And our phone got struck by lightning). I drove around the whole lake pretty relaxed and just looked around. I stopped by Overflow and it just made me think of how times and places seem changed. I miss where I was last summer, what I was doing. There are certain things I don't want back. (Marist, thanks for the four years, I DO NOT want to re-live you. Hands are clean. Champagna preseasons were probably the bane of my existence).  But last year had this quality to it. The people I saw every day and what I did...it all just felt so much more lively. Now I drive around and see all these For Sale signs and the Marina's garage doors were closed tight. Everything seemed shrunken and tiny. And then when I run, everything seems too big. I can't find a medium.

So, before I'm done, I also want to complain about the Olympics. They didn't show ANY of the Equestrian. And the Cross-Country jumping is pretty exciting. At least 8 horses went down over these jumps and the queen's GRANDDAUGHTER was one of the riders. The ENTIRE royal family was in attendance and NBC felt the need to show fencing and Men's INDOOR VOLLEYBALL. What is this world coming to?! If they cut the Track coverage, I will seriously feel the need to write a scathing letter. Maybe J.K. Rowling can lend me a Howler that will explode and hiss at them if they don't open it. So much for more equal coverage NBC. I'm sick of seeing just swimming, gymnastics, volleyball. Either spread it out better between your channels, or cut down on some of the time on certain events. I did not need to see an entire volleyball game. Whatever. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one upset about this. Most people don't think horseback riding is a sport. (But ping pong and Badminton are?!) I'm sorry but you have to be pretty strong to get a 1,200 pounds or more animal to listen to you and jump over 4+ foot high obstacles.

Rant done.

Got a weekend of speed bump hopping ahead of me.

Speech impediments and foreign language abilities

So this morning I had a rather large, ugly black carpenter ant crawl over my foot in the bathroom. After flicking it off and unceremoniously flushing him/her down the toilet, I thought back to one of my family's favorite Jack stories.

Jack is my younger, 13-year-old brother. He's the youngest in the family, but I am 8 years older than him and Mike is 6 years older. So this means that all of Jack's hilarious moments have been remembered and recalled many times.

Jack had a slight speech impediment as a little kid. So one day, he had to be around 2 or 3 years old, he was playing trucks in our den when he saw my Dad crouch down by the patio door with a box of weird traps. He butt scooted over, because at this point in Jack's life, this was how he got around if he didn't feel like getting up. He peered over my Dad's arms and chugged away on his binkie before taking it out of his mouth and looking around for me and my mom. We were both watching my Dad and Jack cracked a smile and remembered that Mom had asked my Dad to set up the ant traps earlier in the day. So Jack, displaying his wonderful memory, happily yells, "Mommy! Daddy's settin' up ant craps!" Well, Michael thought this was hilarious. He told everyone.

This story, however, pales in comparison to the great vanilla debate. My cousins were great fans of this story. Jack, still with his speech impediment, had trouble with his 1's. They sounded more like r's to the close listener. So VANILLA sounded much more like VANEERA. Well, Lauren, Steve, and Allison loved to imitate Jack and say VANEERA every chance they got. Jack was not impressed, mainly because they couldn't seem to say it right. So, when Mom asked who wanted some Vanilla ice-cream with their cake at one family party, all my cousins piped up that they would like some VANEERA. Jack was mad: "It's not VANIRA, it's VANEERA!" Yup. Apparently even a speech impediment has a correct pronunciation. Or he could have possibly been trying to really say Vanilla and just couldn't. Poor guy. Fast forward to about a month ago - June 2012. Lauren is on her honeymoon in Tahiti. I receive a picture and text from her. The picture is of Tahitian Vanilla beans, or, in Tahiti -Hira Vanira. As Lauren laughed, she said that Jack didn't have a speech impediment after all! He was speaking Tahitian! hahaha. It just added to the multilingualism in our family. Michael used to sing a Japanese version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town, but it somehow ended with a mais oui...French. Yeah. And then...I have one more story involving myself. Of course.

My Nonna and Poppa had a neighbor, Marie. She was very Italian. She was also very traditional in how she dressed and looked. Little scary to a young kid, especially a 2 or 3 year old, because her appearance was a little rough. She was the sweetest lady though. Always offered me some watermelon (maybe that's why I love it so much now!) and would sit at my Nonna's outdoor glass table and jabber in Italian. Well, I never enjoyed being left out of conversations. I still don't. So I walked on over and stared up at Marie as she spoke to Nonna. She looked down at me and I voiced my opinion in a great slew of "Babada Babada Babada Ba". Addie Italian! Poor Marie looked at my Nonna and asked, "What did she say?!" She must have thought I was really saying SOMETHING. But no. It was my way of joining in. Nonna and Aunt Ginny couldn't even explain to her what had happened because they were laughing so hard. When Aunt Ginny told us this story a few months ago, Mike was immediately reminded of Peter, in Family Guy, when he tries to speak Italian. Hmm...

I know this post kind of spider-legged out, but I hope it entertained a little. I just got to thinking while I got ready for work this morning and this seemed like a fitting post for today while I'm waiting for the massive thunderstorms to roll in. I'll put some pictures too. Make all my rambling a little worthwhile.

The baby bird under our dock a week ago. Jack brought me over with the paddle boat. 

 Otis sunset

 Jasper channeling Kujo while my mom shot him with a water gun. haha

Back to the happy boy

Klutz Kween

So, I haven't written in a while.
4th of July has come and gone. The fireworks over Otis Reservoir have also passed. It seems the big summer milestones are completed and it's the slow decline through the final few weeks until kids return to school and the fall colored denim jeans make their return to clothing stores.

I will not be among those people returning to school. After 16 plus years of going to Staples for school supplies or American Eagle for some new clothes, I just continue on with life as usual. Weird feeling.

Side note: this Green Mountain Keurig coffee is terrible. It tastes like sweetened battery acid. That's going down the drain later.

Anyways, I guess what I want to write about today is something that happened over the weekend. Some may find it humorous, others may think its stupid. I don't care. I feel like writing. And this is what the topic for today is. Klutziness

So this past weekend, I was at Paul's and I had to use the bathroom. We dropped my brother off down at the beach and were gonna go back down, but I was NOT using the port-o-potty, or, even worse, the woods. So instead of waking my whole family up with the garage door, Paul was running home and said I could go there. Great. Problem solved. Used the bathroom, grabbed a water, and we sat and chit chatted for a few before I realized how late it was and needed to head home. So he walked me to the door, deciding he was just gonna stay home. I said goodbye and was walking to my car. Don't you think my ankle gives out on me as I'm trying to make it down the ONE STEP there is?!?! I heard a crack like a twig and go tumbling into the vinyl siding of the house, giving my right knee a lovely black and blue to sport for the next few days as well. Paul either heard or saw me fall through the glass on the door and cam running back outside. I think he thought I hit my head. Nope. Just couldn't stand on my left ankle. And it freaking HURT dude. So he carried me inside and put ice on it. He was freaking out just a little bit. Said I scared him. I thought he'd know me better by now. I trip over my own two feet at least 10 times A DAY. I'm also accident prone. A klutz. It amazes me I can run 8-10 miles without crashing and burning, but I get home and manage to fall up the stairs or trip over the edge of the carpet.

I was able to drive myself back home after putting it up for a little bit with ice. I told my mom in the morning and she called me a ding a ling, just as she herself slid and fell down the first couple stairs in Otis. Yeah. I see where I get it from.

Can we just flash back to when I had my wisdom teeth pulled? They gave me medication to knock out a 350 pound man. I believe I was around 105 pounds at this time. Yeah. So I get home from my surgery, all loopy, completely unaware of the blood pouring out of my butchered gums. I'm serious. This stuff was great. I didn't feel anything. Don't remember certain things. But when it wore off and I took more with my night bowl of oatmeal, I was in for trouble. First of all, my family blames me, but obviously I was in a drug induced stupor. Do not give me oatmeal when you know the pieces might get stuck in an empty socket! So an oat swims its way through my mouth and gets a vice grip on that socket. I'm not even thinking, go back with my tongue to remove it, start sweating, and then everything goes back. Michael says I sounded like a dying animal. Mom says I hit my head on the kitchen table. I woke up and thought I just took a nap and asked why they put me on the kitchen floor. They're both shaking and my body is all sweaty. So they sit me in a chair, only to have me conk out again. Ambulance shows up by this point and a rather large woman hefts me into her arms and tosses me in the back of the truck. Not a fun night. IVs are not my favorite thing in the world. I tried biting the nurse when she put it in my arm.

And the next day...I felt human again. That was all a dream right? Nope. I managed to have a procedure that is relatively routine turn into a medical disaster.

If I learned anything, it's that I am accident prone. I usually have the worst happen in many situations. I was the band aid queen when I was little. I christened our newly paved driveway as I propelled from my bicycle, skinning both knees and elbows. I fell up the stairs and somehow landed squarely on the only sharp object, gouging a scar into my knee. And let's not forget being tossed off Sprinkles and breaking my arm when I was 7. Or sliding down a hill on loose acorns during X-Country. OR wearing a loose sweatshirt and getting picked up by the wind during practice. Yeah. Murphy, thanks for your law. I'm pretty sure you should add my name to some part of it.

Disclaimer: I still attempt stupid things every day. These past events have ceased to hinder me. I just make sure I have a large stock of band-aids or gauze on hand.

Sorry for the lame post today. I don't really have much else to say. I don't think anyone cares about my work days at the office, or how I went for a run in Otis the other day and swallowed about 20 gnats (ew).

I might be going to see Savages tonight. It has Selma's Hayeks in it as my dad would say. Maybe I'll write about the movie tomorrow. It won't be as good as Ted. I couldn't stop laughing during that one. We'll see.

The saga of the new and old bikes...aka bored at work

Today is another 95+ degree day. Fun, huh? Instead of having my day off from work like I used to on Wednesdays and Thursdays, I'm at the office, not the lake. The prospect of going to run at the gym later doesn't exactly thrill me either. So I guess I need to start adding some more creative material to this website. My portfolio isn't supposed to be the only creative aspect. I don't have my journals with me at work, which is not conducive to me getting started on THAT idea.

I will add, because I'm super excited, that I purchased a Haro bike yesterday for 100 bucks. Anyone that has seen me bike in Otis, knows what I blast around the lake on. For those unaware, let me give you a brief description. It's a Toys R' Us special. I say that with all the sarcasm I can muster. It's titled the Pacific Wanderer and I thought I was the cat's ass riding this piece around when I was ten. Yup. It's a hot magenta pink with garish lettering along the side. It's meant for, well, a ten year old girl.

Fast forward to today. I am now 22. I'd like to add that I did manage to grow at least a foot or two since I originally received the bike. So now, the bike is covered in dust and spider webs. The handle bar grips were starting to crack. So father decided it would be a marvelous idea to slather oil all over them. Not only do I need gloves because the cracked rubber manages to rub my hands raw no matter how many callouses I develop, but I need the gloves to keep the oil off. If I forget, my hands are a mess for the entire day, leaving greasy hand prints on everything I touch. I'm a huge fan of toast, so the toaster pays big time after morning rides and mom is NOT happy.

The other problem is obviously the size of the bike. I'm not scared by the pink color. I actually think it's a unique way of saying I love to run and bike so much I don't care what color or style I'm sporting. Really. But I literally have the seat almost popping out of the hold it's hiked so high. I"m afraid that one hard bump and I'll be tossed to the side of the road, seat flown off to somewhere else. Oh and my gears are hopelessly broken and messed up. I think I'm in 10th gear and it's more like 21-death-of-me-on-a-hill gear.

This bike was my only form of exercise when running wasn't an option. So 14 miles rides were not uncommon pretty much EVERY DAY for 2 -3 months. And the hill behind Katie's...let me just say that hill could make even the toughest people, cars, animals, whatever...cry. It sucks.  And I still go for rides after runs or if I'm feeling beat up. It was time to move on.

Pacific Wanderer, you have treated me well. Even after the past four years of particularly harsh abuse from our 14 mile rides around the lake, you have served me well in a sport you probably should never be used in competitively.

I raise my iced coffee to you and say you can now have a break. Other than when mom wants to ride you for a mile. Which might actually be worse than me riding you. Oh well.

As for you, Haro, I hope you're ready. LACE UP YOUR TIRES!

Here are some pictures I found online...very similar to how my new bike looks...well,
I bought it from my neighbors, so it's not exactly NEW. Just new to me :) Mine also has a very cushy seat and different handlebars.

Starting Over

Graduation has come and gone. Where am I currently sitting? In an old office building that is home to DiFrancesco Insurance Agency. My Mondays through Thursdays this summer will be spent here as I try to save money and regroup for the fall. Many people might have seen my Grad School Insider blog. Oh yeah, FANTASTIC idea! I had everything ready to go and then *flop*. No money. I'm currently not in any type of debt and don't plan to be. So I decided to take another road and save up. Dr. G told me a lot of grad school people are in their 30's anyways. So I've got some time.

Still running. The treadmills at World Gym probably hate me by now, but hopefully my weekends will be filled with Otis runs still. Miss those dirt roads. It still hasn't hit me that Chuck will no longer be texting to ask for my training log or tell me which freshman has been having stellar workouts. No more dread as preseason inches closer and closer and three LONG overnights in the Champagne dorms loom. It's an odd feeling, but the more I settle back into life at home, the more I realize that I"m actually glad it's gone. I loved X-Country, but it was to that point where I'd had my "run" with it and have to move on to it as a recreational sport. I'm not complaining about track being done. I literally had three 10k's in 3 weeks and managed to get my time down by almost a minute, then by another 10 seconds the third time I ran it.

So here I am. Just returned home from Pittsburgh with Paul and his dad and brother. And his brother, who works for Google, gave me a fantastic idea. We were talking about all my old journals because I was trying to write during our drive home. He told me I should take the pages, starting from my tattered, dog eared second grade journal up to my most recent pages and memories. I'll probably mix them in together and treat them more as parts of a longer memoir I hope to write. But I hope people laugh and find some of these old pages as interesting as I did when I went back through them. And, stay tuned, I have more nonfiction pieces to post!!

So that's really it. I hope to keep on the ball this summer with my writing. It gets a little hard sometimes since I do keep my hand written journal still. If I had a better scanner then I'd be able to just scan stuff in. All in due time.

So keep an eye peeled for those eventual old journals!!

Jasper says "hey"

New Semester

Well, I finally had my laptop rebuilt after several tearful phone calls and frustrated battery pulls. Yeah, it was overly dramatic. That's what stress does to me. Anyways, it's like a new PC. Thanks to Rich for the speedy recovery of my trusty writing partner. Good thing too. I'm taking an Independent Writing Class and hope to have many new nonfiction pieces to post to both of the blogs. Plus, my internship at Hudson Valley Magazine began last week. I only went in one day because of a power outage on Wednesday, but it's going to be a really good experience for me, considering all I've known to this point is my laptop and a classroom setting.

On to the running drama...One leg kind of heals up through treadmill running and endless bike rides. Well, don't you think the OTHER SIDE starts acting up?! I'm so annoyed. I want to go to the New Paltz track with everyone else and start getting some workouts in. Just a few good races and then I'm back to running long road races for fun. Then I can really ENJOY it again rather than be speed sour all the time. That's what I'm calling it. Speed sour. I'm not a FAST runner. I prefer 13 mile runs at 7:15 pace. I don't enjoy 3 or 4 x mile repeats at 5:37 pace. Not my cup of tea. I can do them. But then I'm in agony a week later with groin pulls. Yeah. My friend Kevin is actually training to do the Rochester Half Marathon with me in September. I'm excited. I was going to do the marathon, but I need some time to get my legs back. Some time to wrap my mind around going a full 26.2 miles. 13.1 is almost a normal run for me, so it'll be cool to see how I "race" it. So today is Saturday, Day 4 of my no running stretch in the hope that some rest will let my grasilus return to its normal length and not be overly tight or stretched out to the point of uselessness. I just want to be back on schedule.

I'm also totally undecided about next year. I have to wait to save some money for grad school. Fine, I'll build up my portfolio. The smart thing would be to work with my Dad at the office, get my license and then be able to make some decent money for find a job in another agency. That would take the majority of my summer. The other part of me would find a waitressing job or bartending job and travel for a bit. Live somewhere different. Maybe find an actual writing job or internship. Get my foot in the door. Be able to still run on the side. But I don't want to just settle in to life in my hometown because I don't know if I'll get out.

Less heavy news - it's snowing! A lot. Finally. I think Otis finally froze. But Mother Nature has given us some warm surprises and I haven't enjoyed them.

I'll try to be better about writing this semester. Still settling in.

Anyone have Valentine's Day gift ideas for guys??? I'm stumped this year. I've exhausted the memory book, creative candy box, 365 hershey kisses...yeah. help!

Go Giants!

haha this was at the Wax Museum in NYC. I have a jersey now too. Totally obsessed with Giants football as usual.

Almost there...

I am beyond exhausted from all the writing this semester...BUT, I am almost done. I have a couple revisions to see to, but other than that...I think I can see the light!