Hotcake Sunday

Distance: 3 miles
Start time: 7:05am
Run Duration: 31 minutes
Pace: 10.33 minutes/mile
Temperature: 71 degrees
Humidity: 97%
Location: Memorial Park, Houston

Houston was hit by a major storm last night. My electricity went out around 7:15 and was off for nearly 2 hours. With the initial flickering of the lights, I held my breath and when the apartment plunged into darkness, I was sent back to those long weeks without power after Ike. I tried to remember where I put the flashlight. Moving around in the dark, not knowing which way was where, I stubbed my toe on the coffee table. I'm not ready. As my rooms started to heat up I tried to decide if it would be better to open the windows or save what precious cool air I had in the place. Thankfully, power was restored.

The rain brought lower temperature, but much higher humidity and my run felt like it this morning. I ran the entire distance, but I felt sloggy. Is that a word? I ran on an empty stomach. Not smart. I ate dinner at 4pm yesterday. Well, I guess it was a late lunch. I don't know. Yesterday was a weird day. What am I saying? Everyday is similar to that. When I'm working, I don't always get lunch. Sometimes, if my coworkers are in the office we dash out and grab a sandwich - that's a good day. We eat at our desks, check email and answer phone calls if they come in (and catch up on our personal business, let's be honest). If I'm in my clinic, I throw back a can of Slimfast. And coffee. Lots of coffee.

My refrigerator is stocked with a few fruits and veggies. Some milk. Champagne in case a celebration breaks out. Soy sauce and salad dressing, assorted fancy condiments, not much else. I knew I needed breakfast so I decided to stop for something on the way home. I rarely eat fast food. I know it's not good for me, so I tried to think of what could be the least BAD for me. I ordered the pancakes and scrambled eggs at McDonald's. And a medium coffee. I found the nutritional breakdown here. http://nutrition.mcdonalds.com/nutritionexchange/nutritionComparison.do

My breakfast was 740 calories, 220 from fat, no transfats. I got 845 milligrams of sodium from the meal. There were 23 grams of protein. It could have been better. It could have been worse. Looking through the McDonald's menu, I see so much sodium and I also see foods that I'd never, ever eat. I simply don't go there and I'm really not happy that I went today, but I was hungry.

I need to be be prepared. Hurricane or hunger, I need to be prepared.

Sunrise

Distance: 3 miles
Start time: 5:45am
Run Duration: Don't know (didn't wear a watch, I was in my car and moving again after a short cooldown and good stretch by 6:30)
Pace: Felt like about 9.5 minute miles
Temperature: 80 degrees
Humidity: 73%
Location: Memorial Park, Houston

I set my alarm for 7am. I was awake at 4:30. I didn't want to run in the pitch dark because I've heard of bad things happening at Memorial but I wanted to beat the heat and it made sense to run as early as possible. I laid in bed long enough for my obsessive mind to send the demons into my belly and to start sending the recent tremors there that have never previously lived in my body. I hate anxiety. It doesn't belong in me. I had to get out of bed. Off with the covers and into the shower.

Today starts my training for the Aramco Half Marathon. The race is January 17, 2010. I have 6 months to get ready and to do it the right way this time. Last time I tried this I ended up wrecking my left achilles tendon and in physical therapy. I didn't take the appropriate amount of time in PT and had a very long recovery period. Work came first. This year I have a crazy amount of vacation time on the books - because I hardly took any the last 2 years. I worked my silly butt off, including working a part time job (teaching kickboxing at the Y) the entire time hurting physically. I told my therapist that I couldn't come to appointments three times a week, but honestly, I didn't take a chance and ask for the time off from my surgery job. I was afraid to rock the boat and ask for time off to take care of myself. Big mistake.

This year is different. I'm smiling as I type this.

I'm planning a slow, gradual train. Start with 3 miles at a time. Work in a few 6 mile runs as the weeks go on, then add long runs once a week. I also know how to keep my supporting muscles strong and flexible - thanks to my Physical Therapist. I've got core muscle workouts. I feel more prepared.

This morning, as I rounded into the last 1/2 mile, I was tempted to go around again. My mind told me that 13 miles is only a little over 4 times what I'd already covered and I felt good. My mind is a mess. I have a lot of work to do if I'm going to make it through to January in one piece. Rest, nutrition, hard work, more rest. Oh, I also need to calm this mind. That is an entirely different matter. I will be addressing that issue, to be sure.

Inspiration

Sometimes writers are life preservers as the sea of life wakes over me. Thank God for books on the shelves and for each new bit of prose and poetry - and for those willing to share them with the rest of us. Most of my life I've been able to pick up a book and step away from well...my life. I guess I learned to read when I was about three years old. I know I was reading when I started Mrs. Welch's kindergarden class. Books provided an escape from a life too confusing and chaotic for a little girl to consider. If I was reading, I was quiet and not asking questions. I was out of the way. I learned the value of that state of literary involvement early in life.

I will never forget the day my grade school librarian told me that she wasn't sure where she could get more for me to read. I'd exhausted her rotating supply of materials and I believe I'd exhausted her.

My decorating choices always center around books. There are shelves in every room and I spent more money on my lawyer's case with the glass front than I spent on my couch. Priorities.

As I matured I started to use books less as camouflage and more as tools to allow me to move out of my hiding places. I devoured cookbooks and began to enjoy cooking for the sake of the art itself, rather than the act of putting on an event for strangers. I went back to school and looked at my books in an entirely new way. They were the key to my future. I knew that I could escape out instead of in if only I'd learn what was written on those pages. I can only describe it as a mix of hunger, fear and yearning. I knew how vitally important it was to use those books. I can remember sitting at my kitchen table and being surrounded by five, six, maybe even ten books at a time. I was surrounded. As I moved through the years, I moved my books (my lifelines) with me.

Now I realize that holding on to a physics text from fifteen years ago isn't necessary. If I need to find a formula for acceleration, I can search for it online. I am drowning in books. I even have books on treating drowning. I don't work in emergency medicine. I haven't set foot on an ambulance in over six years. I've been selling my books and I've even thrown some of the most worn away. The only books I hang onto are the ones that touched me. They aren't difficult to identify. They are the ones that I'd put down while reading and wish I could call someone and say, "Hey! You've got to hear this." They are the one that have my scribbles in the margins, that I've underlined. They induce thought.

This week I wrote a piece called, "I Am." The intent was to let an emotion speak in human voice. I issued a challenge to writers to do the same. They came through with many works. The titles included: "Grief", "Hatred", "Poignancy", "Happiness", "Sensual", "Rage", "Impatience", "Suspension", "Unimaginative", and "Sorrow."

I was humbled at the immediate response to my challenge, thrilled at the variation on the theme and at the talent displayed by my friends. I remain most grateful and inspired.

Personalizing an Emotion - An Exercise in Writing

I Am




I am a tincture poured into a chalice.
Your breath across the rim of the ruby-colored
glass sends a ripple that
breaks the surface
and we wait together for
calm’s return before you drink me in.

I am cotton
and linen
and silk.
Each time you hold me to your skin
is both new
and familiar.
Each time you hold me to your skin
you mourn my leaving and
you crave my return.

I am the flutter of the breeze
against the petals by the walk as the
blades of grass stretch to the sun
and dew holds your feet to the lawn
as you stand with newspaper in one hand
and coffee mug in the other.

I am moans and sighs and laughter.
I am the trill of mockingbirds as they
busy themselves over their nests
while you notice the tiny ones in the Magnolia out back.

Lost

I finally got down to it. A decent (if I do say so myself) article was coming along - several pages in, way past draft and into revision. It's gone.

I was offered help when I ran into problems. I turned it down. I am a very stubborn woman. Rats.

Lesson for the day: Accept help when it is offered.

No More Kodachrome

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary took me on a roundabout path when I looked up “obscurity”. It’s the “quality or state of being obscure.” So what is “obscure”? I had to jump to the third definition to get to the traditional meaning: “relatively unknown“. I guess it’s fitting that this fate should fall on a symbol of clarity, a veritable icon of unmistakable purity of color - Kodachrome Film.

Last week Kodak announced that after 74 years of production, it will discontinue Kodachrome. As digital demand increases, sales of single-lens reflex (SLR) cameras that use film have decreased and Kodachrome now accounts for only a fraction of 1% of Kodak’s total sales. Only a single lab, in Parson’s Kansas, still processes the film.

Many famous photographs were shot on Kodachrome, including John F. Kennedy’s assassination in 1963 (shot on 8mm).

I learned to develop film in 1973. I remember the rules about storing unexposed film in the refrigerator, checking it out to the photographers, and waiting to get the rolls back. The darkroom was my refuge. As I type this I can see the strips hanging on lines across the room, I smell fixer and I can hear myself gasp at the first time I saw an image floating before me in the sink. Magic.

I went to work in a Photography and Graphic supply house in my early 20’s. I had no idea what I was doing. I ended up selling ink and paper to newspapers. I vaguely remember something about Van Dyke Brown. A lot of my recall centers around the lenses and the guys selling them in the front - and the boxes of film and the guys moving them in the back. I worked in the middle, on the order desk.

I love my digital camera now. The film I shot years ago didn’t hold color. It wasn’t on Kodachrome - I didn’t know it should be. I’m obsessive about backing up my pictures now. Something tells me that as much as I remember, I’ve forgotten even more. Obscurity.

Sometimes...

...it has to be said.



Do. Not. Doubt.