I've Lost My Mind

Three blog posts in a seven-day span should make that obvious enough, but...

It's official. I am registered to run the Disney World Half Marathon on January 8. Yes, 2011. Yes, a mere 12 weeks from now. I still can't quite believe it either and I'm just counting on Kelsey to drag me across the finish line! She was the person who sort of pushed me over the edge and finally talked me in to just going for it.

Actually, I'm looking forward to it. I've now paid money to run this race and I can't get a refund, so I have no choice but to train as best I can and then leave everything I've got somewhere on Disney property. I think I can do it. At the worst, I have to finish in three and a half hours, which breaks down to about a 16 minute mile. I'm fairly certain that I can walk a mile in 15 minutes. So run or walk, I should avoid being picked up and transported to the finish, to quote the rules posted on the website.

I've been pretty sore this past week, since joining my co-workers who have been training for their half marathon that's a little over a month away. As I was complaining about my aches and pains, they were quick to point out that I didn't exactly ease myself in to the training, I jumped in and I've kept up with them. My first question after that was "Yes, but are you slowing down so that I don't fall too far behind???" We're not sure, but I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt!

I'll start going by my training schedule this coming week, though I can't decide if I want to "go backward" and only run three miles on my first run, when I've been doing four or five with the girls, so we'll just see what happens on Monday. Maybe if I do drop back to three I'll push myself to do less walking than I have been. I know that pushing myself to keep running is something that I need to work on. This past week, my lungs were feeling pretty good, but my legs were hating me, so I think my body just needs to get it together!

The mental part of it will be interesting, too. I almost wish that I lived somewhere like Satellite Beach, where I could run through neighborhoods and not feel like someone is going to jump out of the bushes and get me at any given moment. It'll be nice to have that ability when I'm visiting my parents, but the majority of the time, I'll have to either have someone to go with me or figure out somewhere that feels safe to run alone. That's a tall order in O-town, though.

I'll probably be posting a good bit about my training. I may as well change the title of my blog to Digging My Own Grave - One Mile at a Time! Or, the reason I told my dad that I was running, Runners Are Skinny And I Need to Get Skinny! Gosh, I hope that happens. That would be the best thing to come out of all of this!

Can anyone suggest some good running music? I need to start figuring out which songs will help me want to keep a good pace.

Also on the agenda: new running shoes. Shoes had to be involved somehow!

Spill

A friend of mine at work spills everything. We used to sit next to each other and every couple of days, I'd hear a cup tip over and see, out of the corner of my eye, her trying to stay dry. She used countless rolls of paper towels cleaning up these messes. If her keyboard were a person, it would never go to sleep for all the coffee that was spilled in it. Naturally, it became a big joke and we laugh every time she spills, especially when we're in a hotel and the hotel has just replaced the linens on her desk. It never fails.

Yesterday, I "pulled a Lauren." I had opened up a new bottle of water (to stay hydrated for all the working out I'm doing, of course) and was attempting to get the little plastic ring that detaches from the cap back down so that I could close the bottle again. The cap wasn't helping push it down, so I decided to try and do it with my fingers while the FULL bottle of water was open. Bad idea.

The bottle tipped over, toward me, off the desk, and poured right on to my lap, my chair and the floor. Prior to this moment, I was feeling as though I could really benefit from double hip replacement surgery after jogging/walking five miles the previous night. I'm still not sure how I was able to get out of my chair as quickly as I did.

There wasn't much water missing from the actual bottle, but by looking at me, you'd think the bottle would've been empty. For the better part of the day, I looked like this:


It wasn't just the front of my jeans either, it wrapped around to the backs, too. And I'm pretty sure that my jeans were still damp when I got home last night. I briefly thought about putting on my workout pants and throwing my jeans on the hood of my car for a while to dry out. I was afraid that some needy soul (read: homeless person) would take them and my favorite, though completely worn out, pair of jeans would be gone forever. So I suffered the wet jeans all day.

No need to comment here and say "It looks like you peed your pants!" Swells already beat you to it. I can always count on her.

Run, Forrest

I've been wanting to post for the last couple of weeks, but the things in my head either haven't been post-worthy or I'm not quite ready to put out there. Eventually, I may be able to get that crazy out in the open, just not today.

The two things that have been on my mind lately are General Conference and running. Neither has anything to do with the other, they just happened to have come up in the same timeframe.

The weeks leading up to General Conference had been somewhat rocky for me. In fact, as I drove to my parents' house last Friday, I reached my breaking point. Perhaps the traffic jam that I got caught in was the straw that broke the camel's back and that's why I found myself taking an alternate route to Satellite Beach with tears running down my face. While it sounds like I'm looking for a pity party, I'm really not. Sometimes you just need a good cry. At least it was a decent time for one. Nothing is worse than breaking down in a crowd of people or at church (the worst!) where people want to ask you what's wrong and console you, but there's really no need for it or you're just plain inconsolable.

Needless to say, I needed a little pick me up. Thank heaven for Elder Holland. I think everyone that I've talked to or blog-stalked since Saturday has mentioned his talk and how it touched them. For me, it was a great way to begin the weekend. And it was just that, the beginning. The other talk that still stands out to me was David M. McConkie's, mostly because I'm a Sunday School teacher and feel inadequate and overwhelmed a good majority of the time. I'm greatly looking forward to next month's Ensign to be delivered to my mailbox so that I can pour over all the talks again. It'll probably take me until Christmas to get through them all (especially considering the work schedule I'm looking at for the end of the year).

President Monson was, as usual, great to listen to. He's always been one of my favorite speakers and I love that he's our prophet. Whether it's because I'm old enough to appreciate or am finally paying attention, I've come to the conclusion that this is my favorite First Presidency. I can't even put in to words how much I appreciate and respect them. There just. aren't. words.

After the pick-me-up from the weekend, I knew that I needed to keep that "high" going, so I did my best to try to stay positive on Monday. While I was definitely coming down from it all, it seemed to be a gradual descent. Knowing that I'd abandoned my drive to exercise for over a week and a half, I decided to get back on track. I sort of scolded myself in my head for avoiding Jillian, which would've been a lot more productive, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to enjoy the cooler weather that we've been having, so I went for a walk.

Then Tuesday came. I crashed. I was aggravated and negative and over every little detail of my life that I could think of. Luckily, a co-worker of mine invited me to go running with her. She's training for a half marathon and I told her that there was no way that I would be able to keep up, but I wanted to see her trail and give it a shot. (Forget being able to twist into a pretzel from all that yoga, I want to be a runner!) I definitely slowed her down, which I feel a bit guilty for, but I appreciate her sticking with me. I ran more than I thought I'd be able to, but walked the vast majority of the four miles.

When I talked to my dad later that night, he asked me why in the world I was running. My standard answer is and forever will be "Because runners are skinny and I want to be skinny." Wednesday I'd committed to going to an industry event, but the whole time we were there, I was wishing that I'd gone back to the park. That might be because I know what a slacker I am and that if I excuse myself even once, I may as well quit altogether. So last night we were back at it. I ran even further than I did on Tuesday, even though I was pretty sore, but still slowed down my motivator. And I brought my clothes so that I can go after work today if Swells is up for it. If she isn't, I'll be huffing and puffing around my complex by 6:00.

There's really no reason why I can't be a runner. I just have to realize that it's not going to happen overnight. And, if I'm starting now, I should certainly be able to run a couple of miles by the time Coley gets home. (Did you know we're getting dangerously close to the 3/4 mark? I've decided that when he has less than six months left in the mission field, I'll be allowed to get excited about him coming home. Six months is not a long time.) He used to have to slow down and walk for me when I was sucking wind, but I want to have to slow down for him. Yeah right, he'll still be able to run circles around me!

The next order of business to help myself be more light on my feet (and get skinny faster) is to start eating better. There will be a trip to the grocery store this weekend to stock my place with healthy options. I also need to get rid of the cinnamon rolls* that I made for Conference. They are delicious, but they aren't helping me get in to my skinny jeans any faster.

*The recipe is way down in the comments. I think there's another one for one hour cinnamon rolls, but I used Courtney's. I love her blog so it was no surprise that her recipe was great also.

Rules Is Rules

I remember, when I was younger, having Sunday School lessons on consequences and how having rules don't necessarily restrict us, but give us guidelines to follow and keep us safe. While I'm not always the glass-half-full type, I did pick up the positive message. One shouldn't look at rules and commandments as things we can't do; we should think of all the freedoms they give.

I won't say that I always follow every rule I ever come across. That would be a complete lie (somethings else that drives me batty). I, typically, have a hard time doing something that I know to be wrong, though. If a sign says "No Parking," I'm not parking there. "10 items or less" and "no flash photography" mean just that. It's the hard and fast rules that I stick to. The grey, "yellow lights" in life are where I take my liberties.

A couple of years ago, my mom encountered a situation (which escapes me now) that must've caused years of frustrations to boil over. I can still see her standing in the kitchen, raising her voice to almost a yell and saying "I HATE RULE BREAKERS!" She kind of chuckled a little afterward, probably because the reaction surprised even her. And my dad, brother and I looked at each other as if asking "Is she going to throw something??" She wasn't referring to one of us, thank goodness, but that has since stuck with me.

You see, I'm with her. I hate rule breakers, too. Maybe because I find it extremely difficult to blatantly go against what someone has said not to do. Not only does it make me nervous about what consequences could have to be paid (the negative kind, you know), but I also worry that I may not be the only one to have to pay them. I feel like a lot of rules come to being because there wasn't a written rule to begin with (just the assumption of common sense), but someone or something took things a bit too far, one too many times. Which brings up another reason I have for trying not to break rules: I don't want to be the cause of anyone else losing privileges or some kind of freedom because I couldn't control myself. Or because I simply didn't care how my actions affected anyone else.

I guess, in writing all this out, I'm realizing that I'm almost more careful when other people could be affected than when it's just me who would pay the price. I also have a hard time when people don't take responsibility for their actions. Especially when they admit that they probably aren't doing the right thing, yet still say that the choices they're making are a direct result of someone else giving them a little rope.

I've made unwise choices in the past, have had to endure the punishments, and wanted to kick myself for being so careless or just plain stupid. I've also had the occasional that's-ridiculous-and-doesn't-make-enough-sense-to-adhere-to moments. And in the spirit of full disclosure, I still have them. When I was hung, though, I was hung. Maybe I just didn't get as much rope as the next person. But then again, maybe I have the keeper of my rope (be it parents, leaders, managers, teachers, etc.) to thank for being the way that I am today: a rule follower. At least 95% of the time...

Spinsterhood?

There's nothing like being asked to teach the 16 and 17 year old Sunday School class to make you reevaluate where you stand in life.

I constantly think of myself as being a 12-year-old trapped in the life of a 28-year-old. (Notice I didn't say in the body of a 28-year-old, because do I really look 28? No.) I will be driving to work some days and wonder how I ended up with a license, a degree, and a big girl job that makes (lets!) me travel outside the country. It's mind-boggling to me.

Then comes the reality check. When asked if I'd teach this class, my first reaction (outloud, even) was "I look like one of them!" Why would they possibly take me seriously or believe a word I have to say? They might be less ferocious if I come bearing candy every week. Right?

Then I started doing the math and realized that I am actually much further away from them in age than I'm comfortable with. Here's how I broke it down:

- I'm a good 11 years older than them.
- They weren't even old enough to go to Nursery when I was graduating from Primary.
- They were barely in elementary school when I graduated from High School. They weren't even in middle school when I graduated from college!
- I am conciously aware of two more prophets than they are (though I was alive for three others). The one that they're most familiar with, since he was the prophet all throughout their Primary years, was prophet for 13 years. Which means they had just started Nursery when he was called.
- I don't think they would've even been in one of Coley's Seminary classes. That's the saddest part of all. Even Coley is old compared to them! He is, afterall, two thirds of the way through a mission!

I'm old. I'm just missing a bunch of cats. (Which I could easily acquire by simply putting a little dish of cat food outside my front door. There are plenty roaming my neighborhood.) I mean, seriously, what's next for me? Pantyhose? Flat, orthopedic Sunday shoes? Or (gasp!) pantyhose with open-toed sandals?

No way. Right here and now, I'm vowing to not go down that road. I can't and won't be that lady. Heels hurt my feet, but I will endure the pain to avoid looking the part of a spinster. In fact, I might just rock these shoes on Sunday, just to prove that I've still got it.

"Sister Luce! Are those your red and leopard sheets in that picture?"
"Why, yes! Yes, they are." Eat your heart out.

P.S. Jessica Simpson never, no never, lets me down.

The Golden State

These pictures are in no particular order. Not only are my pictures in complete disarray, but blogger likes to make putting pictures in a certain order the more difficult than it really should be. So, without further ado...

This was underneath the Golden Gate Bridge going back to the car after we'd trekked (halfway) across.

I just can't imagine that I'd ever get tired of seeing this. I'd like to give it a whirl, though!

My Papa has always been in love with Marilyn Monroe, so I couldn't pass up the chance to take a picture of the church that she married Joe DiMaggio in. (Coit Tower in the background.)
This picture cracks me up because that's what we did the entire time we were at Muir Woods. We couldn't stop looking up to try to see the how tall the redwoods were!

I don't know who Ana is, but I sure hope she at least gave the guy, who went to all this trouble, some extra brownie points for effort. I have no idea how (or why) he got down there to do this.

I want to live here.

Or here. I don't think it's asking too much.

My dad took this picture. The mom, in the middle, was pretty annoyed that he was taking a picture of her daughter. My personal opinion is that if you CHOOSE to look like this every single day, you (and your family and friends) lose the right to be upset when people want to take pictures of you for looking like you escaped from the circus. Come on. You know how crazy you look. You like the attention!

My dad took this from the San Francisco side of the bridge. He walked the whole way. This was a pleasant little surprise when I was going through their pictures! I love that it looks like a postcard with the flowers. Can you tell I'm ready to go back?
Our car drive (pictured below) was crazy and mean! My dad insisted he get in the picture with my mom and me, even though my mom wanted to get away from him as fast as she could! When we thought he'd be too grumpy to get in the picture, he really responded with a pleasantly surprised "Okay!" and even smiled.

This is all of the family that went to Russell and Kelsey's wedding. What's crazy is that this is only about a third of my dad's side of the family. It's a pretty decent picture, though! The wedding was fantastic. SO happy for those two!

We went to Monterey and the seals were the most active/entertaining there (as opposed to La Jolla and San Fran). If my dad had his way, I'd have been laying down on the ground with them, but this was as close as I was comfortable getting to them. They stink.

My cute little parents in Monterey at Fisherman's Wharf.

This was looking out over the Bay Area from the Oakland Temple grounds. I really just liked how long my hair looks and the color. Is that vain?

I have no idea where this was taken. I just thought it was funny to run across this picture where my dad and I both have our arms crossed. You can kind of see my racoon eyes. I somehow fried my face the day before. I still don't understand how it happened. It definitely snuck up on me!

So these are the highlights. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that there were over 3,000 pictures taken. It's amazing how many pictures you can take with digital cameras and iPhones. It's just too easy to snap picture after picture. I'm glad we were able to, because we did get some decent ones. They may not be exciting to someone else, but they certainly bring back the memories from our trip. That's really what it's about anyway, right?

I Left My Heart

Sunday I returned home from being on a 10-day vacation with my parents. This was the second longest vacation we've ever taken. (The longest being to Utah for 17 days between my junior and senior years of high school, where half of our time was spent in a RV trailing my grandparents in their RV. THAT was a long 17 days.) Don't get me wrong. My parents and I get along really well and I thoroughly enjoy spending time with them. But after several straight days of being with them, I was craving my own space. After all, I live alone and love it.

Anyway... The long and short of it is that we covered a pretty good amount of California in a very short amount of time. We started out in Sacramento, stayed in Lincoln a couple of nights, slept in Walnut Creek the most nights (seeing very little daylight there), spent a few days in San Francisco (quite possibly my favorite city that I've ever been to), visited Sausalito, Monterey, Carmel and Big Sur. All that was in a week.

We spent a lot of time in the car, driving from point A to point F and back again. We were so many places and saw so many things that when I think about it, my head starts to hurt. It occurred to us during this trip that that's how we vacation, unless we go to Ft. Meyer's Beach. It's the only place on the planet that we can be and actually relax. Any other time we travel, we are constantly on the go and need a vacation to recover from our vacation.

Despite being in a Dodge Charger or Chrysler 300 for the better part of 10 days, we did have a good time. Thankfully, we get along well enough that we laugh hysterically at the same things and find humor in most uncomfortable or stressful situations. One minute, my dad can be driving like a maniac while my mom has a death grip on the car door (or her hand pressing through the roof of the car), screaming at the top of her lungs that he's about to run over someone or something. And the next minute I'm laughing at my dad for being in deeeeep trouble while he is looking at her like "What?" and she's laughing a nervous, aggravated laugh like "What idiot gave you a driver's liscence???"

Before we left, people kept telling my dad that he had to drive down Lombard Street in San Fran. After a somewhat terrifying experience in a cab going down Lombard in November (someone who drives down those streets every day), I wasn't thinking that my dad driving it was the best idea. We put him off for several days, to the point where he was almost getting mad that we hadn't gone anywhere near the crookedest part. In true WCL fashion, every time we discussed where our next stop was going to be, he'd say "Where's Lombard? I want to go down Lombard!" Finally, on our last day in the city, we allowed him to test out his skills. And, just like that scary cab driver, when we got to the bottom, he said "You wanna go again?!" Only without the Asian accent. No, no we don't. He swears that after about three trips down, he could go faster than the posted five miles per hour and do a great job. I want no part of that journey.

I liked San Francisco when I was there for work back in November. This time, I loved it. I think I'd like to live there, though I'm not sure I have the guts to make that move. At least not today. It is on my mind all the time, though. I guess I just have to determine if I could like to be there permanently, not just for a few days at a time. Vacationing somewhere and living there are two very different things, which I'm aware of. I just need to put some more thought into it. One of the big things that holds me back, I think, is the distance from my family. I do enjoy being close to them, so going from an hour and fifteen minute car ride to a minimum five hour flight would be tough.

We also spend a few days in San Diego for a wedding. I was there a couple of years ago and absolutely loved it. This time, however, was a completely different experience. Perhaps it was because we were at the tail end of our vacation and were ready to get back to the comforts of home. Or maybe it was because we were constantly searching for the elusive parking space that never materialized. Either way, the highlight of our time there was the hour and a half we spent at the Mormon Battalion Historical Site in Old Town. We happened to stumble upon it on our way to dinner one night. (We knew it was there, just not exactly where it was or that we'd have time to go.) Though tired and hungry and a little bit grumpy, our time spent there changed our entire evening. Isn't it funny how a little taste of the Spirit will turn your whole day around?

Make no mistake. We had a great time. And I look forward to going back and dragging Coley along when he gets home. So, in order to turn this post's seeming frown upside down, here's a list of the highlights:

- Golden Gate Bridge, upclose and person (especially on Tuesday, when the fog actually burnt off and it was sunny and cool and beautiful)
- Dessert at Ghiradelli. A-mazing.
- Finding the Painted Ladies. Or thinking I found them. (I just realized I didn't. Next time. I'm on the right track, at least.)
- Riding the cable car
- Walking all over the city and not sweating to death
- Spending time with family and getting to know extended family much better (A - if you're reading this, we are WAY more alike than I ever would've expected. A most pleasant surprise!)
- Cooler weather
- Visiting three temples in less than 10 days
- Sunset from the Oakland Temple grounds
- Driving along the PCH
- Delicious clam chowder in sourdough bread bowls
- The look on my mom's face when she first stepped into the freezing Pacific. SO funny!
- Sending Coley postcards from every place we visited, to let him know he's never far from our thoughts and we missed him
- Taking more pictures than I know what to do with
- In-N-Out
- R & K's wedding
- Getting splashed in La Jolla, though it was so un-funny at the moment
- Trying to figure out just what the heck a Presidio and an Embarcadero are and why they are so great that they're everywhere
- Seeing the Redwoods at Muir Woods

Lowlights:
- Parking
- Traffic
- Having to go back to work

Perhaps I'll post pictures in another blog, though I've posted a bunch on facebook. I may have more once I go through the ones I took on my camera and that my parents took. We must've taken over 3,000 pictures. I think that's just absurd.