Pictures of You, Pictures of Me

I'm in the midst of packing up and moving out of DC, heading north of the Mason Dixon Line and eventually back "home" to New York. In the meantime, my life has turned into a bit of chaos, as well as my apartment. I don't specialize in disarray. I am partial to order. But, my capacity to adapt continues to be finely honed during this interesting period of balancing priorities.

The first things I packed up were my photos, pictures, and books. I feel like a home without photos of good times with loved ones is just bleak, so I am really looking forward to the day that I land in a new home, so that my walls will once again display all of my favorite people, reminding me every day of the outstanding life I lead.

On the upside, packing is a great time to purge unnecessary clutter, so that when I unpack, I am truly starting anew. I hate owning superfluous stuff, so I'm challenging myself to give many belongings away instead of throwing them in a box to deal with later. So far, at least 11 big bags have gone to Good Will, with more to come.

I also took a little trip down memory lane. I have one keepsake box that sits on top of my dresser with only a small sampling of cards, letters, photos, and news clippings that have some sort of special meaning to me. The last time I went through this box was probably four years ago, when I moved to DC. I found the following "Wish for Leaders" scribbled on a piece of notebook paper. I don't know who it was from or who wrote it, but it looks like it was given to me as I was entering my senior year at Penn State. I must have found it pretty meaningful back then, and just as much so now, so I thought I'd share it.

A Wish for Leaders

I sincerely wish you will have the experience of thinking up a new idea, planning it, organizing it, and following it to completion and having it be magnificently successful. I also hope you'll go through the same process and have something "bomb out."

I wish you could know how it feels to run with all your heart and lose...horribly.

I wish that you could achieve some great good for mankind, but have nobody know about it except you.

I wish you could find something so worthwhile that you deem it worthy of investing your life.

I hope you become frustrated and challenged enough to begin to push back the very barriers of your own personal limitations.

I hope you make a stupid, unethical mistake and get caught red-handed and are big enough to say those magic words: I was wrong.

I hope you give so much of yourself that some days you wonder if it's worth it all.

I wish for you a magnificent obsession that will give you reason for living and purpose and direction in life.

I wish for you the worst kind of criticism for everything you do, because that makes you fight to achieve beyond what you normally would.

I wish for you the experience of leadership.

Pictures of You, Pictures of Me

Moms Are the Best

I was walking down Columbus Avenue this morning, on my way to meet up with some friends for brunch when I heard a woman walking ahead of me talking on her cell phone.

"Happy Mother's day!" she said.

Although I had remembered to send my mom a nice gift late last week, in the midst of traveling (a lot) this weekend for a wedding (congratulations Sonia & Ben!!!!!), the holiday itself had slipped my mind until that moment. I felt ashamed--not because my mother would care that I hadn't yet called--but because there's nobody on earth who deserves recognition more than she does.

I suspect I'm not the only one who feels that way about her mom. Moms, quite simply, are amazing human beings, for all the reasons that have been articulated many times before--Thomas Friedman, for example, does his mother much justice on the pages of the New York Times today.

Now that most of my closest friends have becomes moms themselves, I have an entirely new appreciation for the role and I absolutely swell with pride because of the women they've become in motherhood. They are dedicated, driven, tireless, and loving. But, perhaps most impressively, each one of them has kept a healthy sense of humor, even on the most challenging days.

So, Happy Mother's Day...to all the moms in my life, most especially to Michele, who brought baby number 2 into the world on Friday and Jenn, who is welcoming baby number 3 as I type. Congratulations and cheers!

Moms Are the Best

'...the Pride of Her Friends.'

In the self-created chaos of the past few months, there have been few moments that I've stopped to simply enjoy. I had missed that feeling -- those rare snippets in time when you don't care what's coming next and you've already forgotten what was bothering you 10 minutes ago.

As I entered the old, familiar lobby of that white colonial building on the west side of the Penn State campus on Friday, it was apparent that I was in for a weekend of happiness in its purest form. It's as if my group of closest friends have this magical power to calm, heal, and rejuvenate each other, without ever necessarily knowing their effect.

We descended on campus for a celebration of the 100th anniversary of Lion's Paw -- the organization I count myself eternally lucky to be part of, but never really sure how or why it happened, even 11 years after the fact. What I do know is that it has afforded me a group of people who quite simply are my family. Some of us grew up together, others watched us grow up, and now we find ourselves old enough to see an entirely new generation embarking on the paths we helped to pave. And for 100 years, the tradition continues.

Everybody (hopefully) has those people in their lives. The kind who can melt distance and time in an instant, because no matter what else is happening or has happened since you last talked, you come from the same roots. There is always respect and appreciation for where you're coming from and a common bond that has only gotten stronger as the years go on.

We were brought up on an old-fashioned diet of work hard, play hard. Together, we were taught to have the courage to take initiative when we see a need...to not wait to be asked, to not expect payoff for doing so. We found that honest discussion among the most diverse of us led to the ability to reason together, and in turn brought out the best in all of us.


Those aren't bad values to leave college with and perhaps we didn't even realize that they were being ingrained at the time. But I don't buy the part about never receiving payoff. I left Penn State with so much more than a degree. I left with a treasure trove of friends who I am beyond grateful for every day of my life, who established my self confidence so long ago, and continue to feed my dreams today. They listen to my plans and goals and they ask how they can help make them reality. And beyond all of this, these are the people who draw out my laughter, who know better than anybody how to have a good time. Again, I ask how I got so lucky?

Here's to 100 more years, my friends...M.I.E.R.

'...the Pride of Her Friends.'

An Epiphany...Or Just More Rational Thinking

I don't need to do a half ironman this season.

I know--nobody actually ever "needs" to do a half ironman. But many a triathlete has convinced herself that she must. I did one last year, so therefore, I believed that I must do one this year...so that the ultimate goal (yes...that goal...take the "half" out of "half ironman") might be just one step closer.

But I don't need to do a half ironman this season.

Am I capable of finishing one? Yes. Absolutely. Unlike last year, I have no doubt about that. But my brain finally put a few key pieces of information together this week:

1. My bike, which I adoringly refer to as Lucifer, is still ill-fitting, after four (FOUR!) bike fits. I think it's time to face an inevitable truth that Lucifer wasn't meant for my less-than-five-foot frame.

2. Ill-fitting bikes cause injuries. I know this to be true, because at the conclusion of the last two triathlon seasons, I've had ITB issues on my right knee and lower back pain. It's really annoying to dive into fall marathon-training season with a bum right leg. And lower back pain.

3. I don't have the money right now to replace Lucifer, therefore, Lucifer and I are in for another long triathlon season together. That means I should limit the time on my bike, which limits the ability to train for that 56-mile ride that comes right smack dab in the middle of the 1.2-mile swim and the 13.1-mile run.

4. I'm moving. Where? Ultimately New York, with a possible pit stop in Pennsylvania. When? Uh, sometime in the next six weeks, in between attending bridal showers, college reunions, weddings, building my freelance work, helping get the Race with Purpose season underway, and OH YEAH, trying to find a place to live. When, exactly, am I suppose to do those long rides anyway? Or those BRick workouts? For somebody of my speed, they can take all day.

5. The nice race director at the Tupper Lake Tinman told me I could change my entry to a relay. Because my swim coaches have beaten the crap out of us for months now, I strongly believe it'd be a crime to give up the swim portion of the race. Because I have big hopes and dreams for my next marathon in November, I don't want to give up the run either. Cue my good friend Jeff, who doesn't necessarily crave a good swim and generally hates running. But the guy truly rocks on his bike. It's like it's meant to be. Our two-person half ironman relay is born.

Sometimes life gets in the way of a good plan. Like many, many others I know, I've had a hard time accepting that, and it's difficult to let go of a goal. But I also realize that trying to jam 20 pounds of potatoes into a 10-pound sack has turned me into a cranky, tired, irritable person for approximately two years now. No more...the epiphany finally happened.

I don't need to do a half ironman this season.

An Epiphany...Or Just More Rational Thinking

Remembering the Lessons Learned

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of the tragic shooting rampage at Virginia Tech University. I was going through some old e-mails and came across one that I wrote to my running team as we wrapped up that horrible week of endless news coverage at The Chronicle of Higher Education. I thought it was worth sharing.

I can't remember the last time I was so happy to see Friday. Like Michelle explained at the beginning of the week, we all have our releases and I too count running, swimming, and (sometimes) cycling among them. Unfortunately for you, you've signed on to a group that is a captive audience for my other outlet: writing. Bail now. Hit delete. I'll never know.

Most of you know that my career--the one that pays my bills--is as a reporter for a newspaper called The Chronicle of Higher Education. Busy days for us usually involve a university president getting fired, student-loan scandals, faculty members who have plagiarized, groundbreaking research, or a campus protest that got out of hand.

Obviously the week in higher education took a tragic turn on Monday morning in Blacksburg, Va. And while most of us in this newsroom have cut our teeth elsewhere, hardening us to the tragedies we often cover, this week had every journalist I work with overwhelmed with a sense of stress and sadness, and finally today, exhaustion.

Just about an hour ago, I finally finished writing the last profile of one of 33 victims. She was the captain of her high-school swim team, an environmentalist, and a person whose laugh was so genuine and loud that her professors said they could hear her coming down the hall. She had plans to travel to Zambia to start a career that would take her to the far reaches of the earth, to help those less fortunate create clean water systems. She spent her free time helping community children appreciate the outdoors and learn about science. He adviser told me that while she had the heart of an idealist, she tempered it with a healthy dose of pragmatism, never simply saying that something "should" be done, without figuring out a way to make it happen.

I wrote about a 19-year-old girl whose smile was so warm and broad, her friend told me she could put an entire room at ease without speaking a word. She didn't live long enough to declare her major, but had dreams of becoming an elementary school teacher. In the meantime she was happy playing lacrosse, baking cookies with her friends, and watching reruns of Dawson's Creek. She was killed on Monday during French class, just a few weeks shy of completing her freshman year at Virginia Tech.

So, take a look around your world this weekend and know that life is good, at least for this moment. Cliché? Yes, absolutely. But after a week of talking with those who are in such grief and despair, it's hard to ignore the fact that to care for and love your friends and family so deeply is what makes this life worth living. How many tragedies--global, national or personal--do we need to go through to finally learn?

Be generous with your compassion, be quick to forgive, be fast to laugh, and even faster to move on. Be gentle and kind...to everybody. There's not enough time to be petty. There's not enough time to be mean. There's not enough time to worry about what you can't control, or to not surround yourself with the people who encourage your dreams and support your goals--and to not choose to live your life in such a way that it's natural instinct to do the same right back.

Go to the 4-miler in the park this weekend and relish the time together. Have brunch. Eat bacon. Laugh loudly. Don't worry about the color of your singlet or the logo on your shorts. Run for the graduate student whose last phone conversation on Monday morning was with his little sister, calming her nerves and confidently saying that yes, she would finish the Boston Marathon, even though it was cold, wet, and windy--after all, they had trained together in far worse conditions in the mountains surrounding their childhood home near Penn State University.

We're all in this together, whatever "this" ends up being. So enjoy it. Every minute of it.

Remembering the Lessons Learned

A Last Look at the Cherry Blossoms

When I looked out the window early on Sunday morning, I didn't much like what I saw. It was still dark, but the raindrops hitting the puddles below were a strong indication that it was going to be a long, cold, wet day.

This past Sunday was the Cherry Blossom 10 Miler, which is one of DC's most popular races. It has become a favorite on my race schedule year after year--I think because it marked the "beginning" for me two years ago as a runner.

Although I had run cross country though out middle and high school and have been running marathons since 2000, the year I ran the Cherry Blossom race in 2006 was really a turning point for me in the sport. It was the first I had actually trained through the winter, and the first I had ever incorporated strength, conditioning, and speed into my routine. I went from running a 1:29 in 2005 to a 1:17 just 12 months later. I astounded even myself -- I had no idea I was even capable of it until it actually happened. And it is amazing what happens when you figure out what you're capable of.

This year, however, was no 2006. For one, it wasn't warm and sunny. It was cold and rainy. And a little windy, too. The course was new and consisted of a whole bunch of out-and-backs that started to make me dizzy. But, as it turned out, that was the least of my problems.

I was fortunate enough to run with Josh, one of my Race with Purpose teammates, who is super fast, but super injured right now, hence the reason he chose to hang with me. I had wanted to see if we could stick to about a 7:45 pace, but my legs had an entirely different plan in store. From the start, they just felt heavy and tired. I had no gusto--it was a chore to keep turning them over, mile after mile. I knew pretty soon into the race that it wasn't going to be my day, so my goal was to just turn it into a tempo run and get a good workout in if nothing else...maybe try to at least run a negative split.

Josh was excellent company throughout the race and I felt bad that although the pace was a walk in the park for him, I wasn't really holding up my end of the conversation. Heavy legs plus no coffee turns me into a lame running partner, I admit.

With about a half mile to go, Josh took off. He tried to get me to go with him, but being the stubborn witch I am (sometimes), I declined for about 2 minutes and he wisely went on without me. The rain started really coming down just as we crossed the finish line, so we hurried to brunch as quickly as we could.

Somehow in the process, I lost my coveted Nike running gloves which totally bummed me out at first, but then I realized that I have never run a good race with them, so I decided they were bad luck anyway. Yes, runners are oddly superstitious. Besides, my friend Michelle brought me a new pair of Asics gloves straight from Japan -- they are like the Five Borough gloves they give out at the New York City Marathon (of which I have multiple pairs), but they have the names of Japanese towns on the fingers instead. They are my new lucky gloves, for sure, not only because they are so very cool, but because they are from Michelle, who has always been and continues to be my running hero (injured or healthy, happy or sad, running or swimming, racing or spectating -- it doesn't matter, because she rocks :-)).

So, my splits turned out like this:

Mile 1 - 8:35
Mile 2 - 8:04
Mile 3 - 7:52
Mile 4 - 7:51
Mile 5 - 7:59
Mile 6 - 7:57
Mile 7 - 8:06
Mile 8 - 8:03
Mile 9 - 7:44
Mile 10-8:03
Finish time: 1:20

Not my best performance by a long shot, but good incentive to take a look at the training plan and figure out why it's not working. Regardless, I had a great weekend with a fun group of friends, so thanks to Michelle, Sonia, Ben, Suzanne, Christine, Josh, and Bill for making the trip down here. Maybe wine and ice cream wasn't the best pre-race meal on Saturday night, but it sure tasted good.

That's it for the Cherry Blossoms this year. Here's hoping that next year brings warmer, drier weather...and a fresher pair of legs.

A Last Look at the Cherry Blossoms

Happiness Is...

1. Kicking ass during an hour-long morning hill workout.
2. Having an entire day of challenging, rewarding, and well-paying work, with no fear of not being able to pay the bills.
3. Getting a 3,000-meter evening swim workout finished in just less than 60 minutes.
4. Being too warm in a light jacket on the walk home (nobody does springtime better than the states...and the District...south of the Mason-Dixon Line!).
5. Picking up a special Ben & Jerry's treat and savoring it completely without an iota of guilt.
6. Putting on my most comfy pajamas and being contently exhausted.

I had a really good day, and when you finally learn the true meaning of taking it one day at a time, there's nothing more satisfying than that.

Happiness Is...