Wanna get high?

By far, the most common running question I'm asked is: What does a running high feel like?

So, full disclosure to newbie runners, part of what makes the running high so special is its elusiveness. Not every jog around the block is going to be a magic carpet ride of euphoria. The reality is, it's a million times more likely you'll feel each of the following sensations ten times over before you'll ever experience a runner's high:

• The Dehydration;
• Midnight soreness;
• Swamp shoe;
• Explosive chaffing;
• Inappropriate sweating; and/or
• Visceral instability.

But once you've earned your stripes, imagine that you're about three-quarters of the way through your daily run when suddenly, you notice a growing feeling of elation. Your legs feel a little stronger, your pace a little quicker. You feel like you could run another mile, another 10 miles. The sidewalk clears as the greatest song in the universe comes on your iPod. The Running Gods nod their approval. Each stride is enhanced, you're no longer a runner, you're a warrior. And is that, is that Olympic Gold Medalist Usain Bolt cheering you on?

U. Bolt: "Excellent form lady runner!" 

That said....

Proud Mary

Left a good job in the city
Working for the man every night and day
And I never lost one minute of sleeping
Worrying 'bout the way things might have been

~Creedence Clearwater Revival, Rolling On The River

Banged

Sober Self: "Wake up, you whore!"

Drunk Self: "Wha? What's goin' on? What time is it?"

Sober Self: "Look at my hair! What did you do last night?"

Drunk Self: "Shhh. It's early, come back to bed."

Sober Self: "Get up! This is an emergency. What happened?!?"

Drunk Self: "I just...cut your bangs...or whatever. It's cute."

Sober Self: "It's not cute."

Drunk Self: "You look like Audrey Hepburn."

Sober Self: "I look like Marie Osmond." 

Drunk Self: "Well, haters gonna hate."

Sober Self: "I have to go to work like this."

Drunk Self: "God, if you don't like it, just pin it back or something. You're such a bitch in the morning."

Sober Self: "What was that??"

Drunk Self: "You heard me."

Sober Self: "That's it! We're going running."

Drunk Self: "Wait! Wait, I'm sorry. Why don't you just lay down for a few hours and then we'll figure this hair thing out together."

Sober Self: "Too late, get dressed."

Drunk Self: "I'm going to puke on your new running shoes."

Sober Self: "You better, you had four Long Island Iced Teas last night. Do you know how many calories are in those?"

Paranoid Parrot

Welcome to my World 

Meg Ryan is a LIAR

Romantic comedies have told us a lot of lies over the years. They would have us believe that the following gestures are the height of romance:

• Emotional reunion in the rain; 
• Extended dance sequence; 
• Feeding one another (let the record show the only time it's ever appropriate to feed a significant other is after one of you has been hit by a bus); 
• Bathing one another (see above). 

But the number one, single most over-rated romantic activity of all time: the lazy Sunday in bed.

Oh sure, on paper it sounds delightful—a full day devoted entirely to gentle napping with that special someone. But the stark reality is a different story. My most recent "lazy Sunday" had all the relaxing zen of an internment camp. Ladies, don't be fooled, the moment you set foot in his apartment you're not a guest, you're a POW.

9:00am: The morning's off to a good start with some, er, adult cuddling. But it's a clever tactic to leave defenses lowered. Suddenly I'm ensnared in a snuggle/sleeper hold. There's no countermaneuver. As I lapse into unconsciousness I think, "Must... escape... the dry cleaners... closes at noon..."

3:00pm: W-Where am I? Hungry and disorientated I awaken behind enemy lines. With the fate of my "To-Do" list hanging in the balance, I negotiate for my release. But is that, is that reruns of The Wire I hear?

4:00pm: Morale has stabilized. I was able to convince my captor to allow me food rations so we ordered Chinese. I requested extra hot mustard sauce...but I didn't get any. War is hell.

10:00pm: Stockholm syndrome sets in and the mission fails. There's still a chance I could get to the grocery store today... but first let's watch just one more rerun of Mad Men.

Weather the weather

"Some people walk in the rain, others just get wet." ~Roger Miller

"There will be a rain dance Friday night, weather permitting." ~George Carlin

"I ran my fastest marathon in the rain." ~Bill Rodgers

"It always rains on tents. Rainstorms will travel thousands of miles, against prevailing winds for the opportunity to rain on a tent." ~Dave Barry

"The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain." ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

"If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is 'God is crying.' And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is 'Probably because of something you did.'" ~Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey

Fifty Shades of Stupid

One distinct advantage of utilizing dating websites for which I'm forever grateful is the "essay portion" of the online dating profile. Most dating sites display the standard stats: height, occupation, education, and then encourage you to go on and include additional information about yourself that your potential partner might find interesting. This prompt is intended to be the difference between a missed connection and a soul mate (e.g. No way, I thought I was the only one who acted out The Pirates of Penzance with my cats) but actually serves to alert you to potential narcissists, creepers, and weirdos.

As noted in a previous post, the more clever of the pack can sneak below our wackiness radar and enter into the dating pool. But the weaker members of the herd, less skilled at fraudulent word smithery, are forced to show their hand and lay their pair of crazies on the table. 

For example. I came across the profile of a fellow who shared the following tidbit about himself: He felt that his eyes changed color...

...based on his mood.

Like a mood ring, only way, waay stupider.

Initially, I think, alriiight, stranger things have happened, it's not outside that realm of possibility that this guy does have some sort of bizarre eye anomaly that causes a spontaneous change in eye color. And while linking it to his mood is so nonsensical my knee-jerk reaction is mercy kill him for the sake of future generations, this eye color change must be so dramatic and noticeable that he felt it warranted mention lest his date be startled. But he went on to elaborate. His eyes changed color - not from blue to yellow or hazel to red - but from brown...to dark brown.

Brown to dark brown. A hue differential so nondescript and utterly unnoteworthy that even M&M's recognized the insignificance and gave the tan color M its walking papers in 1997. And since that fateful day, no one has spent more than one minute of cognitive thought on the distinction between brown and dark brown, if for no other reason than unbridled fear that should they address an issue so staggeringly trivial they would be dragged into the streets and stoned for forcing anyone around them to opine, even for an instant, on the all encompassing idiocy of said concept.

Except for with shoes.

Obviously.

Fractured

My doctor diagnosed me with a stress fracture and told me that the recovery period was 6-8 weeks.

My attorney thinks he can get me off in 5.

With a running career that spans 12 years, 4 marathons, and over 10,000 miles, I suddenly find myself sidelined by the lamest of all sports injuries. It could have been the bad shoes, it could have been the uneven terrain, it could have been the years of an odd running technique described most acurately by my little brother as that of an "ambitious Velociraptor," (for the non-runners that means I run on my toes) but mid run a small section of my third upper metatarsal simply no longer wished to be connected to the lower portion.

Did you know evidence of stress fractures has been found in dinosaur bones? 

But it's not all bad. Like every woman, I love shoes, and I've gotten some brand new foot wear out of the deal. Gone are my stiletto heels and in their place is a stylish hard-soled, velcro-strapped foot brace. The foot brace not only helps to reduce the impact of weight bearing movement on my injury, it also gives me the seductive gait of a peg-legged pirate. Oh, and it prevents me from getting laid for the next 6-8 weeks.

Call it Love

“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.” ~Dr. Seuss

Insomnia and Me: 5 Things I've learned before 5:00am - Part VI

1) Lewis Carroll is considered a Jack the Ripper suspect. 
2) Ron DiFrancesco was the last person to make it out of the South Tower of the World Trade Center before it collapsed on September 11, 2001. One of only four people to escape from above the eighty-first floor, DiFrancesco described feeling a presence that guided him through the fire and smoke consumed stairwells.
3) You can learn a lot about yourself from just a few simple questions.
4) The Soundsnap website provides sound clips organized by category ranging from ice clinking in a glass to boat fog horn.
5) In 1903, a stone phallus weighing 2.2 tons was unearthed in rural Ohio. I would've guessed Idaho.  

Dating Over 30

Friday night I crashed your party
Saturday I said I'm sorry
Sunday came and trashed me out again
I was only having fun
Wasn't hurting anyone
And we all enjoyed the weekend for a change

I've been stranded in the combat zone
I walked through Bedford Stuy alone
Even rode my motorcycle in the rain
And you told me not to drive
But I made it home alive
So you said that only proves that I'm insane

You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
It's too late to fight
It's too late to change me
You may be wrong for all I know
But you may be right

You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
Turn out the light
Don't try to save me
You may be wrong for all I know
But you may be right

~Billy Joel

The Quotable Runner

“If you want to win something, run 100 meters. If you want to experience something, run a marathon.” ~Emil Zatopek

“In running, it doesn't matter whether you come in first, in the middle of the pack, or last. You can say, 'I have finished.' There is a lot of satisfaction in that.” ~Fred Lebow, New York City Marathon co-founder 

“If the furnace is hot enough, it will burn anything.” ~John L. Parker

“There are clubs you can't belong to, neighborhoods you can't live in, schools you can't get into, but the roads are always open.” ~Nike 

“Methinks that the moment my legs began to move, my thoughts began to flow.” ~Henry David Thoreau 

“Most people never run far enough on their first wind to find out they've got a second.” ~William James 

“Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible.” ~William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Drunkadamus

Everyone’s got a doomsday theory these days. You’re probably familiar with the usual end times entourage: Solar flares, the Mayans and their long count calendar (seriously I haven't seen a scheduling system that bad since Lotus Notes), and of course, good old Nostradamus who’s been predicting hell fire and doom for the past 500 years.

So it’s only fair that I get to throw my hat in the ring with a few last-call prophecies of my own. As a sage soothsayer who blends starling foresight with fine Kentucky bourbon, it’s the myth, the legend, the functioning alcoholic: Drunkadamus.

Gather round sports fans and let’s start this lampoon,
Don’t crowd Drunkadamus (I’ve been wasted since noon)
I've never liked being the bearer of bad news,
But mankind’s last days come with a number of clues.

No more ass and cart in these modern new ages,
Metal chariots will be built with levers and gauges.
With road rage and accidents off the proverbial charts. 
It's clear that the asses are now driving the carts.

A web thoughts now form that we all travel to,
Where a Nigerian prince has a business deal for just you.
This revolutionary creation makes the world intertwine,
And all for three simple payments of $19.99!

A whole flight you’ll now climb without taking a step,
It sounds crazy - yes - this foreign concept.
The technology is amazing but if truth must be told,
Often they’re broken and look like a staircase of old.

What can we do Drunkadamus? Who’ll come to our aid?
I can’t give a solution – that’s above my pay grade.
While it does sound quite grim, don’t worry my friend,
We have plenty of booze to last us till then!

Insomnia and Me: 5 Things I've learned before 5:00am - Part V

1) Haven't planned your December 21, 2012 evacuation route out of the city? 
Visit http://dcatlas.dcgis.dc.gov/evac/ for all your escape needs.
2) Mankind is responsible for technological breakthroughs like graphene and nanorobotics but is incapable of producing a microwave that runs quieter than a nuclear reactor.
3) Blue is universally listed as mankind's favorite color with 42% of the vote from men and 27% from women.
4) There is no better breakfast than a warm croissant with nutella. 
5) There is no known explanation for why we laugh. At least that's what I say when people don't get my jokes.

Rube Goldberg

Melvin the Machine 

Insomnia and Me: 5 Things I've learned before 5:00am - Part IV

1) Dr. Pepper was in fact believed to have been named after a real doctor, Charles T. Pepper, while Dr. Seuss was simply a pen name.
2) According to professional Rock Paper Scissor players, always go for paper.
3) My Myers-Briggs personality type is INFJ.

4) In 1997 the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration detected a series of extremely loud, low-frequency underwater sounds. Dubbed "The Bloop," the audio pattern resembled that of aquatic animals but was several times louder than any known animal sound. It's source is still unknown.
5) Let the music play down at Fraggle Rock. Or else.

Insomnia and Me: 5 Things I've learned before 5:00am - Part III

1) Between 2:00am and 5:00am there is a monster in the bathroom who lives behind the shower curtain.   

2) Clocking in at 18.5 hours, Singapore Airlines Flight 21 is the longest regular scheduled non-stop flight.
3) William "The Refrigerator" Perry is the greatest football player of all time.
4) That stomachache you had earlier is probably indigestion. Or cancer.
5)  In rare instances, excessive consumption of nutmeg can result in a condition called nutmeg psychosis. Unlike law school, which invariably results in psychosis. Zing. 

When in Rome...

“When the whole world is crazy, it doesn't pay to be sane.” ~Terry Goodkind, The Pillars of Creation

“If we weren't all crazy we would go insane.” ~Jimmy Buffett

“Being crazy isn't enough.” ~Dr. Seuss

“No doubt exists that all women are crazy; it's only a question of degree.” ~W. C. Fields

“I may be crazy, but it keeps me from going insane.” ~Waylon Jennings

“A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?” ~Albert Einstein

“Some people never go crazy, What truly horrible lives they must live.” ~Charles Bukowski

Insomnia and Me: 5 Things I've learned before 5:00am - Part II

1) Jonathan Rhys Meyers is a terrible, terrible actor.

2) The real Paul McCartney died in 1966 and was replaced by look-alike Billy Shepherd.  
3) Sleeve is a weird word.
4) Odd animal couples. I'm rooting for them.
5) Can't sleep? I bet you'd be more comfortable if you slept on your stomach, I mean, you're up anyway you should just try it...Hmm, you were more comfortable on your back, just flip back over and I won't bring it up again...But you know, when you sleep on your stomach you need your favorite pillow, try it once more, last time I promise...Ohh, that's right, you don't have that pillow anymore, sorry, sorry that one's on me... [Repeat for the next 2-7 hours]

Life is Good

With a swanky new address and a bona fide new biglaw gig, my blog should be teeming with the sort of obnoxious, self-congratulative ramblings you'd hear during an evening out with Gwyneth Paltrow.

Movin' on up

I'm in love. Completely, utterly, and totally in love.

With a button-cute, over-priced, under-spaced Dupont Circle apartment.

I've never felt this way before, I think about it all the time. I think about it's cozy little kitchen where I could spend hours ordering take out baking muffins and its quaint little balcony where I could curl up in the sun and read US Weekly Jane Austen.

I love this apartment so much, I even think about it while I'm in my old apartment.

The journey towards Dupont Circle residency can be a little intimidating. When I first moved to DC, I got sticker-shock from the cost of a beer. Participation in DC real estate was unfathomable.

When I presented my completed, co-signerless, lease application to the property management, I half expected them to chase me out of their office with a broom, "Shoo you rascal, you go back to the Commonwealth and you stay there!"

Fortunately, my parents are always on hand to provide financial guidance.

Parents: How's the apartment hunt?

Me: I think I found a great place. It's a safe area to run and really close to my new job. It's expensive, the rent is $[insert cost of a Dupont Circle apartment here].

Parents: Dial Tone.

Our deepest fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? 

~Marianne Williamson

Insomnia and Me: 5 Things I've learned before 5:00am

1) Nobody cares that it's 3:00am and you can't sleep. Not even your mom when you call to tell her about it.
2) You can't buy alcohol in Virginia until 6:00am. 

3) Fungus is a weird word. 

4) Your downstairs neighbor hears your tossing and turning and thinks your dating life is way more exciting than it really is.

5) Whatever you do, don't think about ghosts.

Beyond Fabio

Romance novel heroines have drastically changed over the past ten years. The traditional princesses, governesses, and milk-maidens have been replaced by vampire-hunters, space assassins, and shape-shifters.

The transition of female characters from demure and passive to strong and capable could be viewed as a progressive step for portrayal of women in literature...if the bodice-ripping and bosom-heaving story lines weren't so largely the same.

Rather now, instead of seeking everlasting love with a Viking Prince while overcoming the evil intentions of a cruel stepfather, our heroines are seeking everlasting love with a Werewolf Lord while overcoming the evil intentions of the mutant zombies. They've upped all the stakes but haven't changed the dynamics.

Certainly I'm not advocating that we turn to the historical fiction/fantasy genre for our positive female role models, but I know if I was responsible for saving the residents of Zarton 6 from an intergalactic space drought, I'd like a few more resources other than just my time-traveling warlock lover.

Nature's nature

Last Thursday night, I saw the most beautiful sunset.

I say this not as an artist, poet, or some kind of hippie. In fact, let the record show, I'm exactly the sort of asshole who doesn't appreciate the simple things or natural beauty. But when I looked outside that evening, it took my breath away.

It was like that sunset was just for me. Mother Nature's red and gold mea culpa for the rough summer.

 

Learning to Fly

Ice is forming on the tips of my wings
Unheeded warnings, I thought, I thought of everything
No navigator to find my way home
Unladened, empty and turned to stone
A soul in tension -- that's learning to fly
Condition grounded but determined to try
Can't keep my eyes from the circling skies
Tongue-tied and twisted just an earth-bound misfit, I

~Pink Floyd

Commuter's Delight

Each day, the population of Washington, DC shifts by approximately 70% due exclusively to commuters.

It takes anywhere from a brisk 20 minutes to an excruciating hour and a half to cover the six miles between my apartment and my office. The distance, as it turns out, is nearly irreveleant. My office might well be on the moon.

Each day begins with waiting for the bus. This public transportation system follows a strictly enforced policy that all buses arrive at their scheduled stop either 10 minutes early or 15 minutes late. This is where my fellow commuters and I go through the same, curious, daily ritual. Although we are all gathered at that precise location for the specific and limited purpose of getting onto a bus, when the bus does arrive, whoever is at the front of the line inevitability cracks under the pressure. They stare in bewilderment at the large, approaching metal chariot and freeze. Only after everyone is forced to board around them does the paralysis cease.

Then it's off to the Metro. Now this is when things really get sexy. If you've caught a train that's not delayed, overcrowded, or experiencing mechanical failures, you've won the commuting jackpot. If not, get ready to endure a traveling experience so irritating and inconvenient that Richard Sarles owes every passenger who has made it through a foot massage and six personally administered sessions of CBT. 

City shakes, then blushes

As the sixth floor of our office building swayed like a dandelion in the breeze at approximately 1:51 P.M. yesterday, the first thought that entered my mind was: "Alright, this is the moment you've been training for....time to fight those zombie aliens!"

But it wasn't an uprising by the planet Unetav - yet - it was an uncharacteristic 5.8 magnitude earthquake. Having never felt an earthquake before and knowing how rare they are for the east coast, the idea didn't even make it onto the list of potential catastrophes I though we could be experiencing. Rather, I considered the upcoming ten year anniversary of September 11th and my suspicions that the armed police who occupy the larger metro stations probably aren't searching people's bags for candy.

A day later, the city's reaction has been, frankly, a little weird. Like we're embarrassed we got caught being concerned about our personal safety. I even caught some flack yesterday for not returning to work from an attorney who, immediately following the tremors, I watched wind sprint down the hall past five women, one of whom is seven months pregnant.

Is it really so lame to worry about the possible structural consequences of the strongest earthquake in nearly a century on a city whose foundation is comprised of swampland and tunnels? Can the Metro, which breaks down from wind, rain, and most often no reason at all, somehow be earthquake proof?

Family Ties

So I'm visiting my parents this weekend and using their one functioning (of three physical) showers. Mid-lather I hear the muffled voice of my mother outside the door. I can't hear her clearly - because I'm in the shower - so I yell for her to open the bathroom door and ask me whatever question is obviously so important it can't wait the five minutes until I'm out.

She comes into the bathroom, pulls back the shower curtain and asks, as though we were chatting over coffee: "Do you think your brother would think I'm crazy if I told him he's supposed to be in the Army right now because the end of the world is coming? I've been having bad dreams lately like I did before 9-11. Do any of you kids [my brothers and I] have premonitions about bad things happening?"

In fact yes, just recently my horoscope read: You will soon be asked a difficult question...by a crazy woman...whose genetics you happen to share...while wearing nothing but suds.

Big Girl Bed

It really ties the room together.

For the better part of my 29 years, I've slept on a twin bed. And not having been institutionalized or incarcerated, there's no good reason why.