(#37) Nationwide Children’s Hospital Columbus Half Marathon – Part 3 (Other Fun Race Things)

October 25, 2012

a spectator at the Nationwide Children's Hospital Columbus Half Marathon 2012 holding a sign that says "Pain is temporary, quitting is forever"

We’ve heard all about my dad, but what were some fun things about the race besides him?

First off, A+ on creativity, Columbus. The signs here were awesome.

In many races, people have a tendency to say, “You’re almost there!” way early – around miles 4 – 6. Runners I know like to lovingly complain about. They’re happy for the support… But we’re nowhere near “almost” there.

Well, in Ohio, I saw “You’re NOT almost there” signs at a couple different places. I loved the people who brought those, and I cracked up every time I saw one.

Someone had a sign by the end(/start) of a turnaround that said “shortcut.” Hilarious.

I adored a sign that said this is “the least polarizing race of election season!” How great is that?

There were some of the old favorites, such as “Pain is Temporary, Quitting is Forever” (or “Pain is Temporary, Pride is Forever”).

There were Patient Champions – kids receiving treatment at Nationwide Children’s Hospital – at almost every mile. (Mile 12 was called the Angel Mile as a tribute to the children who’d passed away.)

At every mile marker, there was a huge party with families and supporters for the child of that mile. Runners were giving high-fives to the kids and their families.

6 miles in? I thought I already started!

At one point during the run, I heard, “Aurora?” I turned around, and Ashley one of my friends from high school was running with her mom! How awesome, right?

One odd thing about the race was that there was a second start line, I want to say somewhere around mile 6-ish. When I saw that, I looked at my dad and said, “I don’t know what I’m starting now! I’m pretty sure we already started a half marathon a long time ago.” I still have no idea what that start line was for. If you were there and you know, please feel free to let me know!

There were people on the sidelines doing the ol’ “OH -” “- IO” cheer. If you are not from there and don’t watch college sports, it’s possible that you don’t know what I’m talking about. But, it was very Ohio, and very fun.

This race had by far the biggest trash cans I’ve seen at any race (possibly in my life). Way to plan!

I had such a rad time visiting. The race treated me so well. The race director, social media team, volunteers, and everybody involved did an amazing job for us all.

(And a non-race-specific, but general Ohio sentiment: I loved seeing some people I love and visiting restaurants I miss. (Almost every meal while I was out there was Planet Smoothie… I love is SO much!))

I hope to come back next year for the full marathon!

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 29 (The Pre-Op (Op Being Open-Heart Surgery) Chapter)

October 24, 2012

Photo Credit: Childrenshospital.org/arthur/ (A super cute guide for kids who are going to have surgery at Children's Hospital Boston)
Photo Credit: Childrenshospital.org/arthur/ (A super cute guide for kids who are going to have surgery at Children’s Hospital Boston)

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Picking up from last week –

So, I went on living my life in February and March doing as much schoolwork ahead of time as possible.

On March 12, 2010, I had my Big Ol’ Pre-op Appointment. (That’s how I referred to it in my calendar.) I think I called it that because they told me I would be there for a huge chunk of the day.

I don’t remember all of it, but I had to see different people in different departments. They did some mental tests. Do I know answers to questions? (i didn’t know what county we were in. I was like “who knows the county?” But I got all the other ones correct. Could I touch my nose?

This brain-test stuff was, I guess, used as a baseline in case we had any problems after the surgery. They could know that we were never smart enough to know what county the hospital was in.

Also, the (physician’s assistant?) asked me to raise my eyebrows. This was actually somewhat hilarious because I’d been working hard on trying to make facial expressions with as few wrinkles as possible. (I want to be like a Simpsons character – as much expression with as few lines as possible. (That’s how people describe drawing them in commentaries and stuff.)

(Granted, I don’t try to control my forehead quite as much any more. Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe it’s a bad thing. Either way…)

Catapulting back to 2010, the PA asked me to raise my eyebrows. I thought I was. She said I was just opening my eyes wider. I’d definitely trained so hard to not move my forehead that I’d forgotten how that whole mechanism worked! Sorry, doctor, this is the best I can do.

I’m sure that embarrassing tidbit is in my chart.

(If anyone’s wondering if that’s maybe a story to cover up Botox injections – I will be the first person to let you know when I get Botox. (I have not had any.) And I will put it off for as long as humanly possible. (By “human,” I mean “L.A. resident.”))

I also had my neck looked at that day. Doctors look for signs to tell them if you have some heart disease that’s in a bad stage (or something like that). I didn’t have any problems in my neck.

I think I also filled out a bunch of paperwork that day, got instructions with special pre-surgery soap, got my blood tested. I pretty much became best friends with everyone at the hospital is what I’m saying.

The week before my surgery, I went to Portland for my last big hurrah on America’s Got Talent. (I was back in May It wasn’t a big deal.)

The crew gave me this cute t-shirt I’d been eyeing during the whole tour. They gave me one I could wear, and one signed by everyone with loving messages. It was sweet of them.

When I got back from Portland, it was time.

I cleaned my apartment, stocked up on groceries, and prepared to take care of myself.

I used the special soap, packed up my computer and anything I felt I needed for a week-long stay in the hospital.

Off I went to Mass General.

If I remember correctly, and I could be completely mistaken, I think got there super early. I don’t remember why. Maybe I was afraid I’d sleep in. Maybe I just couldn’t sleep, but was ready to get out of my apartment. Either way, I’m pretty sure I ended up hanging out in the lobby, surfing the internet at 4:30am or something like that.

Before you knew it, time to go under!

This is where I’ll pick up next week.

(#37) Nationwide Children’s Hospital Columbus Half Marathon – Part 2 (Oh Yeah, We’re Still Talking About My Dad)

October 22, 2012

Yesterday, I left off in mile 12.

There was this couple who’d been walking right around my dad and I since one of the early miles. Sometimes they were in front of us, sometimes we were in front of them.

My dad is ultra-competitive. (I know I am too about certain things. He is my dad, after all.) We had been ahead of this couple for the last few miles. As soon as they caught up, I was ready to zip off to the finish. My dad was over it. I was shocked. (You may be underestimating how super-competitive he is.)

But he just explained it away. “We’re not sure exactly what time they started. Who knows if we’d be truly beating them or not. Who knows if they’re truly beating us or not.”

Yes, those thoughts were pretty true thoughts. But when you’ve been sort of racing someone for 8 or 9 miles, you’re racing them – no matter what time you each precisely started.

We let them pass us, and we walked to the end. We jogged out part of the very, very end once we could see the finish line.

I will give my dad credit that he didn’t sit immediately after the finish line.

However, he was walking like a zombie though the little post-runner area. He just kept asking me if we could turn around. I kept explaining, “We’re fenced in. You have to walk to the end of this area. Just get your food and things.”

“But the car’s that way.” “I know, Daddy. But if you just turn around, all you’re going to do is make it back to the finish line. And we just came from there.” “But the car’s that way.” “Yes, Daddy, I know…”

We did make it to the end of the line of food and medals and things. And right as we were about to get out of the fenced area, he said, “I’m just gonna sit here for a minute.” I told him I was going on a quest for free massages.

I met up with my mom and we went over to the building with free massages. Eventually, as we waited, my dad called. He’d made it about 30 feet right outside of the runner area toward one of the tents. We told him to walk an additional 50 feet and he could get a free massage. “Nah, I’m good.”

I hope you can feel and understand while reading this exactly how hilarious these conversations were with him, ’cause I’m seriously trying to coax him like a child. (Super nice, soft voice: Really, if you can come 50 feet, you can have a free massage! Don’t you think that’ll make you feel all better?” Daddy in his super stubborn voice: “I don’t wanna!” “I can come walk with you if you want. We’re really just about 50 feet away from you. You can do 50 feet.” “I don’t wanna!!!”)

Well, okay then. We just let him continue to wait. I got my free massage. (Yay!) And eventually, we walked (some of us hobbled) back out to the car.

For anyone wondering, we did get our sub-3:30 time with a time of 3:26:29! One of the awesome things about this half marathon was that I had an email before I even got to the car thanking me for running and giving me my actual time in the email. (It didn’t give me a link to go check it out or anything, just right there – “Dear Aurora…” straight in the text of the email. A+ job on that, Cbus marathon. (This is the first distance race I’ve done that’s done that for me.)

I looked at my dad after we’d made it past the finish line and said, “We did it!” He didn’t seem to care too much about anything other than sitting.

For the record, I think it’s great to push yourself. I think it is great to feel that at the end you’ve given everything you’ve got. The thing that makes my dad so hilarious is not that he awesomely pushes himself – it’s that he is incredibly dramatic about it.

He’s always acting like the race is the easiest thing or like we are actually going to fall over dead. There is no in-between (which is not that surprising I suppose, since I am his daughter).

Also for the record, I truly think it’s hilarious. I make fun of him out of love. He cracks me up all race long! And I love that.

I’ll talk tomorrow about the awesome time we had throughout the race – the course, the people, ambiance – all that great stuff.

(#37) Nationwide Children’s Hospital Columbus Half Marathon – Part 1 (Lovingly Making Fun Of Daddy)

October 21, 2012

My dad is one of the most hilarious people I know. He’s given me permission to make fun of him a bit in this post, so get excited for that.

The Nationwide Children’s Hospital Columbus Half Marathon went off with a boom. (Seriously, whatever fireworks or gun or what was going off shook the ground (and all of us to our very cores).)

I don’t know if you remember my dad’s first race – the hilarious (and amazing) OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini-Marathon in Indianapolis, but my dad went from quite confident at mile 4 to a stubborn acting like a stubborn 5-year-old at the end.

I cannot believe that I left out my favorite part of that story from that blog entry which was:

Right after the finish, my dad sat down. I said, “Daddy, daddy. It’s not time to sit down yet. You have to keep moving after a race. You have to get your medal. You have to get food.” That was the real 5-year-old moment, when he said “I don’t want a medal! I don’t want food!”

It was hilarious. It may not be quite as hilarious to you just reading it. I may need to act it out for you. But trust me when I say it was so incredibly funny.

For this race, he vowed that things would be different. He started training a lot harder, and I’m truly am very proud of the work he did.

In Indiana, his only goal was to finish – which we did in 3:51:07. The goal this time was a 3:30 (which is still a huge improvement). (Technically, he kept saying the goal was 3:40, but I’d heard him say 3:30 a couple of times, and I know my competitive father. I knew that 3:30 was the real-life goal.)

This is the part where my dad gets so funny. He wants to go faster at the beginning to build a “buffer zone” for our time.

I don’t completely disagree with that strategy. I have absolutely taken that strategy before. I’ve had it work well when I know how fast I am capable of going in the beginning, and I’ve been dead by mile 10 or 11 before because I go faster than what I’m really capable of in the beginning.

The strategy itself is not flawed, but you have to execute it right to work for you.

My dad was raring to go in the beginning. We jogged together until we reached the half mile marker. (This was the first time I’d seen a marker for the first half mile, which I thought was cool.) Then we slowed to a walk. But we did a little jogging, a little walking here and there, until we caught up to the 3:15 pacers. He wanted to stay with them through the first 5k. We had already started out faster than we should’ve been going just to catch them. (They crossed the start line before us.)

I felt that we were not going at a sustainable pace for the rest of the race, and I convinced him to slow down a little. I tried to explain that we had a number of miles left, and we’re going to want some steam by the end.

So, we slow down a little. Things are going pretty well. And of course as we get closer to double-digit miles, he starts running out of steam. He’s still doing pretty well around mile 11. As soon as we hit mile 12, he is so over it.

“Are we done yet? I want to go home. Are we done yet?”

I’m trying to convince him to jog out the final mile, or maybe the final half mile, but it is so not happening.

This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

Tweet Up and Expo for the Nationwide Children’s Hospital Columbus Half Marathon

October 20, 2012

Darris, the race director, talking at the Tweet Up

I love the Nationwide Children’s Hospital Columbus Half Marathon. I love it. And I haven’t even run it yet!

They are so awesome with their outreach and social media. There was a special “Tweet Up” today where anyone who saw the event on Twitter or Facebook could come hang out and sit indian style with the race director and other runners, and just talk about the big day.

Darris – the race director – amazes me! He knew the answer to every question without having to think about any of them.

He knew the best places for spectators, the exact number of port-a-potties. He knew the best roads to drive in on in the morning, exactly what would food would be served at the end. He knew the course backward and forward. He knew every detail with no notes and no hesitation.

You could tell that he genuinely cared about making the race the absolute best it could be.

He stressed to us that he loves feedback, and after we run, he wants to hear about anything they could do better. Someone brought up some concerns from last year (port-a-potties and food), and he could quickly rattle off all the improvements they made after getting feedback, so I trust that he (and the rest of the race staff) really listens.

And they really think about every detail. There are shuttles for spectators to watch their runners go through the stadium, and then get down to the finish line. There are free gloves and free breakfast vouchers for runners and spectators who get there early.

The people behind the Nationwide Children’s Hospital Half Marathon seem to really have thought of everything for everyone – not just the runners, but the runners’ friends and family.

So, we all became bffs at the Tweet Up, and then it was time to rock the expo.

I stayed for hours talking to everyone. There were a bunch of sweet people and sweet events they were promoting  – stair climbs, relay races. I want to come back to Ohio every weekend!

Raising Cane’s Chicken Fingers had a booth that gave out stickers, and if you wore one through the finish line, you got a free box combo after the race! What? The world is being Nelson Muntz to me right now. “Ha ha, you’re a vegetarian!” Rargh.

Oh well. Every runner gets free Chipotle! I can happily eat as a vegetarian/vegan there, thank you very much.

 There was a fun booth by a new company – Road Head Athletics – that had mohawks and such attached to headbands that you could wear as you run. The people at that booth were really fun (as was the headgear).

There was a Girls on the Run booth. We all know how much I love them. They asked if I’d ever thought about being a mentor/coach person. It had never even dawned on me that that would even maybe be something possible for me, but I would love it! I love the idea of empowering young women through running. That is going to be one of the first things I look into once these 52 half marathons in 52 weeks are over.

The best part of the whole expo was that at 12:30, I reported to the hallway for a drawing for a gift card. (You had to be present to have a chance of winning.)

Once they called the first name, I looked around to see a person waving his hand and smiling. As I looked to my right, standing one person away from me, was an absolutely amazing friend of mine who I’d gone to high school with! I freaked out! He freaked out as well. Huge hugs commenced.

Wonderful expo, awesome Tweet Up, lovely day. I’m ready to rock this race with my dad tomorrow!

Spirit Award! (With the Nationwide Children’s Hospital Columbus Half Marathon)

October 19, 2012

The excitement in the room at the VIP Cocktail Reception was palpable. What a fun night!

Former Mayor Lashutka spoke. The race director spoke. The people who’d run this race for the past 32 years (ever since its inception) were honored. Six high school cross-country athletes received scholarships (sponsored by Chipotle).

There was an ambassador program in which some Columbus residents went over run the Dresden Marathon (in Germany). And we had Dresden residents, who’ll be running our race, at the reception.

Did you know that the same person has been in charge of the security of this marathon for the past 32 years? He got honored with a replica of the same award given to the winners of the marathon.

The Nationwide Children’s Champions were honored. 25 patients have been chosen – one for every mile except the Angel Mile. They get to theme their miles, and they’ll be out there at the race cheering.

Speaking of people who got honored, I was there as a Spirit Award winner. (What, what?)

10 people (okay 11 – ’cause one was a couple) were picked because our “inspirational stories embody perseverance and strength.” (That makes me sound pretty cool, right?)

Before the reception started, right after we got our packets.

I didn’t even know until tonight that along with our award, we get $100! Thank you, Chipotle (who also sponsored our awards)!

There was this rocking video we all got to watch, talking about the history and positive impact of this marathon/half marathon. Over the years, it’s raised over $154,000,000 for the economy out here.

All the stats were given about the number of people who qualify for Boston, and various rankings of this marathon in various places.

It was a really cool night. It was great to see all these people with such joy and to see people who’d accomplished so many different and cool things. All the speeches and the videos got me super pumped up! I was ready to throw off my heels, and go run 13.1 right now!

So far, I love everything about this race. I love the people who’ve been communicating with me about the Spirit Award and this special reception. I love their social media team who’s been keeping runners excited for months. I loved the reception tonight. I love it all. I am beyond excited for this race… on Sunday.

(Tomorrow, I’ll talk about the expo.)

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 28 (The Consultation and Small Breakdown Chapter)

October 17, 2012

I think this is a picture of one of those machines that pumps the blood when your heart isn't doing it.)(Photo Credit: FirstHeartNorth.com)
I think this is a picture of one of those machines that pumps the blood when your heart isn’t doing it.)
(Photo Credit: FirstHeartNorth.com)

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Continuing my saga –

I had a consultation with my heart surgeon in January.

Since I had a very rare defect, I got the Chief of Cardiac Surgery on my case. (Boo-yah.) Dr. Vlahakes is a lovely surgeon. He’s personable and funny. He really takes time to make sure all of his patients are comfortable, and that we understand what’s happening. He had models of the heart and drew me a great picture of it all. He told me about his kids. We had a lovely time.

I don’t remember if it was at this appointment or at a different time, but I was talking with one of the doctors about the fact that my heart would be stopped and I thought it was hilarious conversation.

“So, you’re going to stop my heart?”

“Well, the blood will be still be circulating.”

“Okay, but my heart will be stopped?”

“The blood in your body will keep circulating through a machine.”

“But my physical heart itself will stop beating, yes?”

I never did just get a straight yes to that. I won’t credit Dr. Vlahakes with dodging the question, ’cause I can’t remember if it was him or not. I think it took place in the hospital, so I’m gonna go ahead and say I think it was a different doctor.

Going back for one second to my hospital stays leading up to open-heart surgery for two tidbits I forgot.

I think I said earlier in this story that I didn’t cry all that much while in the hospital and that is true. I can only remember three instances of crying throughout the whole thing. (Perhaps I am remember myself in a better light than what really happened, but I think there were three.)

1) The time I cried in pain from my ulcer. (That one’s already been mentioned.)
3) A time after open-heart surgery (which we will get to).

And the second time I cried was this one.

After I found out I was going to have open-heart surgery, and while I was still in the hospital for the procedure before that, I heard from my family that I was going to get a cavalcade of people.

No, no, no, no, no. That’s not acceptable. I can’t handle it. I cannot.

I had certain family members being extremely insistent. I put that on lock down immediately.

I started saying things such as “I can’t prevent you from coming to Boston, but I am allowed to put my room on a no visitor’s list, and I promise you I will do it.”

Commence breakdown. No one was listening to me. Some people thought the best way to treat a sick person was their way of treating a sick person – which was to be all up in the sick person’s space.

One of the hospital social workers even came and talked to me… Oh boy. I was crying a fair amount. I accidentally scared my doctor ’cause she thought something was physically wrong. All the stress just flooded me at once.

Again, not upset that I had to have surgery – upset at all the stress that results from being a patient.

(Photo Credit: Zazzle.com)
(Photo Credit: Zazzle.com)

People did eventually cool off, stand down, and everyone agreed to respect my wishes! (dances) No one came to visit me. And truly, I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I wouldn’t have been able to handle having anyone else there. But we’ll get to all that post open-heart surgery stuff soon.

One last note about pre-surgery stuff before I forget – hospitals are always asking for your religion when you’re admitted. This is so a minister, rabbi, etc. can come talk to you. (They explained that to me when I was curious about it.)

One of the weeks when I was in the hospital, I was all, “Send in anybody who wants to talk to me! I love learning new things about the world around me – that includes religions. This could be fun and pass the time.”

I didn’t really learn anything new. They’re not there to teach so much as they are to comfort. So, it was sort of a bust in that sense. It was also slightly embarrassing in a time when Stephen was visiting and a Rabbi came to say hello. Stephen kind of looked at me. Yeah…. um, I’m not Jewish. I just wanted to make new friends with this Rabbi…

Awkward.

The Rabbi was very nice though.

(The story continues next week.)

How Do You Afford 52 Half Marathons in 52 Weeks, Aurora?

October 16, 2012

Homer Simpson and Mr. Burns looking at trillionThis is the question I get the most frequently, so I thought it was time to do a blog post about it.

For one thing, I’ve been extremely lucky. I’ve had fellow racers and some blog followers give me rides and places to stay. That has been incredibly helpful, and I am so grateful for all of that kindness.

I’ve also had some awesome race directors give me free or discounted race entries. (I haven’t gotten a ton of those, but even a few are awesome in comparison to none.)

I’ve been given buddy passes here and there for flights, which have been incredibly helpful. And, I do the things you’d expect people doing a lot of traveling and racing to do – I’m always on the lookout for discount codes. I use frequent flyer miles – all that good stuff.

As far as where I save places in my day-to-day life:

I got a sweet, sweet deal on my apartment, and I have two roommates, making my rent unbelievable. (That means that in Los Angeles, people don’t have the ability to believe that it’s so low. In non-big-cities, it’s still slightly unbelievable that I’d pay this much to live with two other people.)

I don’t have a car! (That one’s huge.) I know most people think this is impossible in L.A.
It’s Inconvenient for sure, but I’m surviving! That means no car payments, gas, parking, tickets, maintenance, or insurance.

Speaking of insurance, I’m still on my parents’ health insurance. (Thanks, Obama!) So, no extra bill there.

I thought that I was going to have some amazing blog post that uncovered all of my secrets. But I guess it’s all pretty simple.

I don’t have a significant other, or kids, or anything. There’s no one I’m spending money on but me (for the most part – I still get gifts for friends sometimes, and I still give to charities and things, but I am not the main responsible party for any other human beings).

I work in television, so while I’m certainly not rich, that kind of work affords me the ability to do things I love – such as this crazy 52 in 52 adventure.

So, I guess those are all my big secrets – cut down on my day-to-day expenses, and happily accept the hospitality of friends and family when I’m in their city (or when we’re traveling to the same city).

At the end of the challenge, I will tally up how much everything cost, so it will not be a secret.

Sorry if this post was a let down! If it wasn’t specific enough, and you have more questions, you can always feel free to comment or <a href=”mailto:WriteToAurora@gmail.com”>email me</a>.

The 13.10 Challenge!

October 15, 2012

I’m throwing down the gauntlet, y’all! Challenge issued!

Note: The challenge deadline may have passed, but it is not too late to give!

(Update video to come soon!)

(To see WHY I’m running 52 in 52 for marriage equality, click here)

[wpvideo V1gi9nBV]

(Go here to donate. (http://www.broadwaycares.org/Aurora))

if you’d rather read than watch a video, then keep on reading!

I am so excited to announce my “13.10 Challenge!”! It’s time to start pushing to raise some money for marriage equality, and I really want (and need) you to be a part of it!

You know how a half marathon is 13.1 miles long, well…

For the next 13 days! –

if 1310 people to give $13.10 (or more!), I will give a mix of 1310 dollars/volunteer hours to Broadway Impact and other pro-LGBT organizations.

I’ll give $900 to my fundraising page, and I will pledge 410 hours of volunteer work to be given to pro-LGBT groups such as Broadway Impact, Human Rights Campaign, TieTheKnot.Org, GLAAD – pretty much any great organization that I can help (and that can use me/will take me)!

AND, I will be sending out loving care packages to everyone who:

a) Donates $13.10 or more to my page fundraising for Broadway Impact – an awesome organization fighting for marriage equality. Donate here. (http://www.broadwaycares.org/Aurora)

b) Subscribes to this blog! (www.AuroraIsBlogging.com)

What’s in these loving care packages, you ask? A love note, of course. And who knows what else? There may be candy, or a CD, or a video, or a keychain, or a gift card, or it could just be a big whammy! You’ll never know if you don’t give $13.10 or more in the next 13 days!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Aurora De Lucia jumping in the air at the finish of the Atlantic City April Fools Half MarathonTo recap:

1) If 1310 people give $13.10 (or more) in the next 13 days, I will give 1310 of my own dollars/hours towards equality.

2) Give $13.10 or more in the next 13 days, and subscribe to this blog – get a loving care package.

Please, please, please, lovely people, click here to donate now! (http://www.broadwaycares.org/Aurora)

Then, SHARE this link with everyone you know. Let’s make this happen!

Thank you!

xoxo
-Aurora

(I gave $13.10! Will you?)

A Mini-Guide to the Greyhound Bus (And a Side Story From My Ride This Past Weekend)

October 14, 2012

Joey wearing all of Chandler's clothes on Friends
Still possibly not enough layers for the Greyhound bus.

As a frequent rider of the Greyhound bus, I thought I’d drop a little Greyhound knowledge in case any of you need it.

1) Always bring a blanket. Always. Maybe even a parka and 8 pairs of pants and socks (to wear all at once of course). Greyhound buses are cold. You will thank yourself for being prepared.

2) Always bring food and a large (full) water bottle (or two). You don’t know how often you’ll stop. And when you do, you may have extremely limited food options.

If you want to feel good and not live off of sugar/fried foods during your time on the bus, bring a supply of Cliff bars.

3) Get there early. I don’t know if you know this (I had a rude awakening on my first Greyhound trip a long, long time ago) – they will happily oversell each bus if there is a demand.

You are not guaranteed a seat on your bus. It is first come, first serve. If the bus fills up and you’re not on it, you have to wait until the next bus comes – which could be hours later.

Depending on how far you’re going, this could mess up layovers and such. This “always come early” rule is directly related to rule #4, which is…

4) If you are riding an “Express” bus, rule 3 does not apply to you! Did you know that? ‘Cause I didn’t learn it until this weekend.

I got to the Greyhound station in Los Angeles two hours early – which was a complete and total waste of time, because you are guaranteed on a spot on the express bus for your scheduled trip. There are boarding numbers and everything. It’s almost like flying.

Greyhound tries to make it as posh of an experience as Greyhound can be. There’s a special roped off waiting area in many stations. They roll out a little red carpet in the express aisles. There are electrical outlets on the bus. It’s not too shabby. So if you can take express, I recommend you do it.

If you have any other Greyhound bus things that you feel people should know when taking the bus, feel free to let me know!

For now, I’ll leave you with this story from my Greyhound bus experience this past weekend.

We had all picked our seats. I was lucky enough to have a whole two-seat row to myself. Everyone was going to sleep. The bus took off. I had straight up fallen asleep. And I have no idea how much later – could’ve been two minutes, could’ve been two hours – the man across the aisle from me wakes me, and in a very rushed manner tells me to give him the seat next to me.

(Photo Credit: Boston.com)

I don’t know what’s going on, but I groggily wake up and give him the window seat.

And he sits large. He continues sitting larger and larger as the ride goes on. For the next (what seems like a) billion years, we go on this cycle. He pushes further into my personal space, which wakes me up as I get pushed to the edge of my seat into the aisle. I ask him to please scoot back over. He says he can’t speak English very well. I make gestures with my hands asking him to scoot over. He offers to let me just lay in his lap. Uh, no thanks, sir. He gets back into his personal space. I fall back asleep to be woken up a bit later by the invasion of my personal space again.

Once this happens two or three times and I realize it’s a pattern, I move to where he had been sitting before he captured my window seat. I end up by a very lovely man. We each take up the normal amount of space, don’t bother each other, and both get to sleep.

Perhaps the large-sitter’s plan all along was to chase me away. As soon as I left, he laid down across the two seats. Well, he can have them. I got sleep. He got sleep. The guy next to me got sleep. All three of the people involved in seat-swap got sleep. So, I say it’s a victory for everyone, even if I was chased away from my original seat.

The end.

p.s. When I was making small talk at the Greyhound station with the man who let me use his phone charger, I asked about his trip. He said he was in California for court. I asked how it went. He said, “Not well. I was convicted of manslaughter.” If you ever want to experience a lot of different characters – get on a Greyhound bus. There’s enough there for maybe 10 new plays – in one trip.

(#36) OktobeRun Half Marathon

October 13, 2012

There was a huge delay on the BART this morning, so I arrived at the half marathon at 7:59. (The start time was 8am!)

Luckily (for me), the race started over 10 minutes late. I had time to grab my bib and drop off my bag.

As I waited at the start, I could’ve sworn I saw Endorphin Dude, but he was cape-less, and wasn’t surrounded by people taking his photos. It couldn’t be him.

I saw him later on the course. (He was on his way back from the turnaround; I was going toward it. (He was very far head of me.)) He shouted out my name, and gave me a quick hug. It was Endorphin Dude (Tony) after all!

He was going incognito to focus on only one thing – getting a PR (which he did)!

I jogged a bit in the first couple of miles, which was really fun. I looked down and saw the ground going by. There’s really something special about jogging, but I reverted to walking for a very large part of the race (trying to save myself for Ohio and some upcoming doubles).

After I switched to walking, I fell further toward the back of the pack. Those of us bringing up the caboose we’re pretty spread out.

I had a long stretch for a couple of miles where I didn’t see anyone. I was alongside of the highway (safely behind a very tall fence on a pavement path). I took advantage of that loudness and alone-ness, and sang my heart out.

I started rotating through some great musical theater songs, giving all the emotional eyes and everything as I sang along to Spelling Bee (my absolute favorite show) and more (such as Dreamgirls, Gypsy, and all that good stuff).

Before I got halfway through the race, it started to get pretty hot outside. My poor face that isn’t covered by my hat or sunglasses has been taking a brutal beating lately.

I ripped of my overshirt, pinned the bib onto the shirt I was wearing beneath it, and wrapped the shirt around my hat to block out more sun. (In case I didn’t already look crazy enough belting out showtunes, I’m sure this look screamed “there’s definitely a normal girl inside that belting shirt cocoon.”)

My cheeks are thanking me. They stayed nice and cool in the shirt cocoon.

Once I started to get toward the end of the race, people were already starting to pick up cones. I got a little confused on where I was to go, but I found my way.

At the end, there was Tony (Endorphin Dude) waiting for me!

He asked if he could give me a ride anywhere. How amazing is that? I didn’t even have to navigate the public transportation back to San Francisco. Then he asked if I wanted to have lunch somewhere.

Sure, that’d be great!

He started asking about what kind of food I wanted. I sheepishly said, “Um, I’m a vegetarian for now, ’cause I’m in this challenge. And I’m not allowed to have dairy today…”

He excitedly said, “I’m a vegetarian!”

Yay! I’m so glad I wasn’t a bother. We went to this delicious salad place.

(He even treated me to lunch. A ride to the greyhound station and a free lunch? This is first class, gold star treatment here, baby!)

We talked for a while. I loved hearing his stories about ultra-running. He’s a fun, interesting, lovely guy. It was an excellent afternoon!

Why Broadway Impact, Specifically?

October 11, 2012

co-founders of Broadway Impact
Co-founders of Broadway Impact. Left to right: Rory O’Malley, Gavin Creel, Jenny Kanelos
(Photo Credit: BroadwayImpact.Com)

There are a number of organizations standing up for marriage equality. Why did I choose Broadway Impact, specifically?

I’ll start with how one of Broadway Impact’s founders affected my life.

Last year (June, 2011) I worked on Broadway Bares XXI – the 21st year of this huge, amazing, yearly charity event supporting Broadway Cares/Equity Fights Aids.

I was honored to work on it two years in a row. My job last year was to take care of David Hyde Pierce. (I know, I’m so cool, right?)

(For anyone wondering, DHP is the lowest-maintenance, kindest, most lovely person I have ever had the joy of working with. I totally want to be like him when I grow up.)

Getting to why this matters, Rory O’Malley shared a dressing room with David Hyde Pierce. I talked to Rory a bit about Spelling Bee and other things. Rory is hilarious and lovely, and the kind of person you want to be friends with.

We became Facebook friends (and we have some mutual real-life friends). Rory became the person who encouraged me to get hands-on in the fight for marriage equality.

I remember when we (New Yorkers) were fighting to pass the Marriage Equality Act there. Through Rory, I heard about (and went to) a rally in Albany. There, I met a bunch of amazing people giving tons of time, energy, money – anything they could – to make sure we got Equality passed into law.

After the rally, I phone-banked (with someone I met on the bus). I made fun friends, and I added to the voices of people asking New Yorkers to stand up for what’s right.

(Not the bus/really I went on/to, but you get the idea.)
(Photo Credit: BroadwayImpact.com)

I was proud of myself (and everyone around me) that we were taking action!

I was happy to, for the first time in my life, be doing more than just saying “Yeah, I support that.”

Don’t get me wrong. Voicing your opinion is important. Social media is powerful Wearing buttons, stickers, and things, and being vocal is totally awesome. It is helpful. It’s way better than silence. And I would never want to put down anything anyone is doing in the fight for what they believe in.

But, this new adventure of doing even more than that was exhilarating. I was happy to feel that I was doing something tangible to facilitate change. I was a teeny itsy bitty bit part of a huge movement, but to know I was any part at all means a ton to me.

I will never forget watching the State Senate feed on June 24th with bated breath. That night, same-sex marriage in New York was signed into law. It was the greatest birthday/leaving New York present I could’ve asked for. While it was pretty devastating to be moving to California, I couldn’t have left on a higher note.

Getting back to Rory, I will always be thankful that I met him. He helped nudge me on a path to being a better, more proactive person. (I still have a long way to go, but I like to think I’m on the right path.)

It might be a little cliché to talk about someone “making me be a better me.” Plus, it’s a little silly, ‘cause I’m just some girl. I’m not Rory’s bff, or anything. But I found him inspiring, electric, excited, and he added to my life.

Rory being awesome.
(Photo Credit: BroadwayImpact.com)

I thought, “If this man is this awesome, impassioned, and uplifting; and he can get me off my butt, and on the phones, and at rallies, making noise for marriage equality – he is the type of person who should be co-heading up a charity. He can get people moving.”

I am really pleased to take part in his charity. I worked with one of the other co-founders – Jenny – on setting up my fundraising page. She’s absolutely lovely as well. I have yet to meet Gavin, but I’ve only heard amazing things about him.

I completely trust and look up to the co-founders of Broadway Impact, and I am totally honored to get to run for their charity.

Even if we put the people aside for a second, you can see some of the awesome work they’ve done (and continue to do) here.

If you’d like to give to my fundraising page, you can do that here.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 27 (The “‘How Are You Handling All of This?’ Question/What Life Is” Chapter)

October 10, 2012

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Last week, I said I would pick up talking about the people who say, “How are you handling all of this?”

Let me just start with, I love people. You might not think it from all the times I constantly complain about people in this long running heart story series. But I love them. I appreciate their concern. I appreciate that they’re doing their best to show that they care. I appreciate the fact that it really must be awkward for you when an acquaintance, a friend, a whatever gets some weird life-threatening congenital heart defect, and their treatment is ongoing.

I appreciate all of that. I’ll admit that I don’t always know what to say to people when something goes wrong in their life. I always want to make it better. Of course that’s not always possible. I’m not at all going to act like I would’ve been any better.

But here comes the rant part.

(I know I’ve ranted about various things throughout this series, and had various gripes about the people (whom I love). I believe I have touched on some of the ideas intertwined in here. Sorry if I’m covering familiar ground. Hopefully some of this is new to you.)

This whole “How are you handling all of this?” drove me crazy.

One thing I know I’ve said in this blog before is that all problems are valid if they affect that person in a profound way. Think of all the problems other people were dealing with at the time – money, apartment, exercise, family, roommate – so many possible issues. (Obviously the list goes on past those things.)

They may have been asked by a couple of close friends, “How are you handling all of this?” But I was getting it all the time from everywhere.

Here was the worst part. If I would try to be honest, and talk about what was really bothering me, people would scoff at it!

My biggest stressor – the thing that drove me absolutely insane was letting go of all my jobs. I felt like I’d worked so unbelievably hard. I’d sacrificed sleep, a personal life, hobbies, vacations, my sanity, holidays with my family, and who knows what else for theater.

As I’ve also said before on this blog, when it comes to theater, nothing that I give up in favor of it is ever truly a sacrifice. Since theater is my first love, it’s hard to say I’m “sacrificing” anything, because there is no where else I’d rather be than a theater. Sacrifice is really the wrong word. I was freely giving my life to it. I was choosing theater.

Now, my life was choosing for me. As I was getting hired more and more, and getting to reap the benefits of being an incredibly proud card-carrying Equity member, the choice was no longer mine to give my life to the thing I adored.

(Don’t feel too terribly bad for me. I wasn’t on Broadway. It wasn’t the biggest moment of my career. But I’d built my momentum (which is hard to do sometimes!). Once momentum was going – ba bam! Sudden stop.)

Theater was my main stressor. Then there was running – my precious, precious running.

So when people would ask me how I was handling things, if they were really asking and wanting an answer (not just “everything is just dandy), I’d talk about the stress of not working, of not having been backstage in a theater for months.

And people would think I was ridiculous.

They’d want me to be nervous about having doctors go in my heart, or something. People would come back with, “That’s just work. This is your life.”

I’d say, “No. That is my life. Theater is my life. Theater is my heart. Theater is my soul. It’s is my love, my dream, my everything. Theater, marathons, goals, learning new things – these are the things that make a life. A beating heartbeat does not make a life. I understand that you must have a functioning body to have a life, but having a functioning body does not mean you have a life.”

I am not worried about my surgeries. (That was my feeling before every one, from small procedures to open-heart surgery.) I checked out my doctors on the internet. They were top-notch. That’s all I could do. I could research. (I did.) The surgeries were out of my hand. That was that.

Why focus on getting nervous about a surgery? I’ll die or I won’t. There is nothing I can do about it. Let’s focus on my future. Let’s make plans and goals. Let’s prepare for my life outside of the hospital.

This is where I’ll pick up next week.

(#35) Long Beach International City Bank Half Marathon

October 7, 2012

As I was lacing up my shoes in the morning, I noticed I’d thrown on my pajama bottoms inside out. Oh well.

I continued the morning by reading the train schedule of the wrong station. I ended up getting to the station “on time.” Since it was the wrong station, I caught the train after the one I wanted, meaning the moment I got to the start line, it was time to get out there and run!

I’ve mentioned before that sometimes speakers are positioned so that right before the start line, it sounds like a party. Right after your cross the start, you wonder, “What happened to the tunes?”

Long Beach had nice speaker positions. Music continued at the same volume for a while after the start. I could get used to that!

I jogged parts of the first 4 miles. There was a very generous time limit on this race (about 7 hours).

But, there was a cutoff scheduled at 8:30am at mile 4 – something about opening roads back up. I crossed the start around 7:30. I wanted to make sure I made that cutoff, so I jogged part of those four, and walked part of those four.

A woman named Lisa jogged up to me around mile 2, and said she recognized me from Tahoe! (It’s fun running into people I didn’t even know I’d seen before!) We talked for a bit, then moved on to different paces.

I hit mile marker 4, and was home free.

The Long Beach community was overflowing with enthusiasm.

There was a super enthusiastic officer. I have never been more excited in my life to be at mile 4.7. He made it really cool. I also love, love, love spectators who show up with signs saying something along the lines of “I’m a stranger, but I’m so proud of you.”

I went by a family that was holding one. They also had a special brand of enthusiasm I don’t usually see. From the moment they were in my vision to the moment they left it (which was a fairly long time), they were celebrating as though their favorite rock star was running by them.

I saw them again over an hour later on the turnaround. Their enthusiasm had not waned one bit. I loved it.

We also had super excited volunteers. I passed some in a hilarious, healthy competition over convincing the most people to grab their drink (water or Powerade).

Speaking of water (or what I thought was water), let me admit something very embarrassing to you.

It was getting pretty hot out there as the race wore on. Around mile 10, I saw someone with a huge squirter thing. I thought they were squirting water, and I was all, “Yeah, get me, get me, please.”

I turned around and asked for it around my back and neck. Turned out it was some kind of muscle stuff that warmed up after it hit your skin. Ow. That was mildly painful, and hilarious to the people walking with me (and me).

People joked about the way I smelled like muscle warmer stuff for the next couple of miles.

Speaking of the people, I walked with two lovely people – Brian and Singrid for a number of miles. We had an absolute blast getting to know each other.

I met them as I went to talk to a woman wearing a sign on her back that said, “I am 85!”

She had done her first half marathon when she was 78 years old! She was adorable and hilarious. Everyone kept trying to talk to her. She’d say little things here and there, but then she’d say she couldn’t be distracted ’cause she was going for a certain time.

When I asked what that time was, she said, “I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true!”

The course was a little funny because somewhere past the middle of the half marathon, we passed the finish line festival. You could see everyone hanging out and eating when you still had miles left to go. “Oh look, the finish line!… Oh… Bye.”

I enjoyed this humongous sign at mile marker 12 from Jet Blue that said “One More Mile. You’re non-stoppable.” It was signed by, I think, staff and patients of the hospital that was the main race charity.

Speaking of sponsors, I saw a sign that the Golden State Gay Rodeo Association was a sponsor. Shout out to them, ’cause I didn’t know they existed.

At the end of the race, I got my humongous Beach Cities Series medal! Between the race I did on crutches, and my first double weekend (coming from a different time zone), I really feel like I earned that series medal!

(#34) Arizona Half Marathon

October 6, 2012

I woke up in the middle of the overnight bus ride to Phoenix and saw nothing but tail lights. We were in stopped traffic. Luckily, I had a buffer zone. It didn’t matter much that we were an hour late.

Someone I’d met at the airport over a year ago picked me up and drove me to Goodyear! We got some Starbucks, and caught up.

In this race, we ran out on a long road in the desert. We saw more desert. We ran back on the same road, and saw more desert. In the second half, we went on a different road and saw a different part of the desert.

(I’m not complaining. I knew what I was signing up for. Also, imagine me telling you that with a slight laugh in my words. Ha, ha, ha – desert everywhere you look.)

It was a small race. The volunteers were very nice, but I didn’t see many people except volunteers and police officers (not really any spectators, cheerleaders, musicians, etc.).

With a race coming up tomorrow, I decided not to jog this race, but to just stomp it out – sometimes like I was a model on a runway, sometimes like I was walking through water, sometimes like I was dancing in a music video – whatever stomping I felt like at the time.

I put on some good stomping tunes. What are my best stomping tunes, you may ask?

To name a few – Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems,  and Bad Boy For Life. (How can you go wrong with Puff and Biggie?)

I started to get slightly nervous when 20 minutes had gone by, and I hadn’t seen a mile marker yet! I thought I knew my pace pretty well. I was sure I should’ve seen one.

Turns out, I had passed mile 1. There were no mile markers in this race. That was sort of a bummer. Between desert, desert, and more desert, signs would’ve added something.

One thing that was different about this race was that there were different Gatorade flavors at different stations. I’d never seen that before.

I was often switching between last and second to last place. The girl who kept passed/getting passed by me was a run/walker, so she’d run ahead then get passed on the walk. There came a time when I passed her for good. I thought, “Boom! Not last.”

Later, she quit the race. I caught up with two other people, passed them and managed to not come in last. Yee haw!

At the end of the race, I grabbed my pretty rocking medal, and started going up to groups of people and like a super weirdo saying, “Anybody headed to Phoenix? Phoenix anybody?”

I got a ride with Lisa a Doug, an extremely lovely, fun, wonderful couple. Lisa talked about never squashing a dream, and all the fun projects/careers her kids were chasing after.

We talked all the way to the airport, and I bid farewell to my new friends. Since I had a half marathon the next morning, I went ahead and splurged on taking a flight instead of a bus. (Worth it.)

Let me tell you the saddest story about my flight, though. So, I had these delicious cheese fries and a wonderful glass of milk. During the flight, I set them on my tray table. Then I dozed off. When I woke as the plane was landing, I was starving and excited to eat them…

They were gone! Apparently, says the person next to me, the flight attendant tried quite hard to wake me up, but I could not be woken.

I guess what I’m saying it not to all people and future me – do not ever leave any special perishable things on your tray table. If you fall asleep, they could be gone.

And note to flight attendants (but also a note to me): If the flight attendant had saved my precious fries somewhere and given them to me after the flight, he would’ve been totally my new best friend. Please don’t throw away wonderful food.

(The reason that’s also a note for me, is it’s a good reminder to think about what you can do (especially things that are easy to do) to add happiness to another human’s life. I know this is a really small example – just cheese fries. But, it’s a good reminder, nonetheless.)

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 26 (The “Bright Sides On The School Thing” Chapter)

October 3, 2012

(Photo Credit: NewEnglandMagazine.com)

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Last week, I left talking about school, withdrawing from a semester a planning the next one.

While we’re talking about school, I think I forgot to say that one of my teachers actually let me Skype in for a bit to a class (I think it was so I could “be there” as they presented my final project), which was really fun.

Although, things around me in the hospital kept beeping, and I was hooked up to my heart rate monitor. I had some wires coming out of my hospital gown. Everyone was all, “Are you dying?” “Is your roommate dying?” “Are you part robot?” every time they heard sounds.

Side note: Speaking of that heart rate monitor, I don’t know if I mentioned this, but I got so very used to wearing one. I could still probably point out where you attach the leads. I don’t know if this happens to other patients, but I have super crazy dry skin. My skin got irritated after wearing a heart rate monitor for long periods of time. I’d have these weird little outlined circles around my body.

All right, so the semester was over (and somewhat worthless, ‘cause it didn’t really count for anything). The epicardial ablation was over (and somewhat worthless ‘cause it didn’t fix anything).

My open-heart surgery was scheduled for March 22, 2010.

We’ve covered through December 2009. January was all that blood testing stuff, since I was on Coumadin.

In February, I pretty much just worked as far ahead in classes as possible since I knew I’d be gone for so long in March.

There definitely can be some bright sides found in taking that semester of MP&E twice.

1) The major was really hard, and having a second crack at a bunch of really hard projects made me much better at producing and engineering.

2) One of my classes basically revolved around knowing one of the consoles and all the signal flows inside and out. They got a brand new console between semesters – so I got to learn about two different consoles in depth.

3) The soundalike project is often known as the hardest project in the program. The first time around, I did a Matchbox 20 song, ‘cause I knew someone who sounded a lot like Rob Thomas. I figured that having a singer who sounds so similar would help the project sound a lot like the record. (It did. That was definitely a helpful thing.)

The second time around in the class was like a fun bonus gift for me. I had the same teacher. He knew I’d successfully done the project once. So this time, I got to be bold, brave, and challenge myself. I did a Michael Jackson song!

Billie Jean actually turned out pretty awesome, if I do say so myself. (Although, I never was able to find a person who sounds like Michael – but listen to my instrumental, baby!)

Last week I said I’d talk to you more in this post about people who say “How are you handling all of this?” You know, what? Actually, I love people. I appreciate their concern, but I have a feeling I have a lot to say about this (more than what I have room for in this post), so let’s start here next week.

(#33) Lake Tahoe Half Marathon (Tahoe Trifecta Day 3)

October 1, 2012

Day 3!

I realized not too long into the race that this was the main half marathon of the weekend.

There were more people in this race, and way, way, way more support. There were a bunch of well-stocked water/food stations. Many stations had fun themes – 70’s, safari, matching bright outfits, and more.

Each group took time to make their station special, fun, and different.

There was a group that was doing burpees for high-fives. They were getting tons of high-fives, so I’m sure it was probably a pretty exhausting day for the people doing the burpees.

Girls on the Run yet again had an amazing, super-cheerful, enthusiastic station. They made up special cheers for this race incorporating how we all could take on the hill (that we continued to climb right after the Girls on the Run stop).

There was even a high school orchestra that came out and played for us! How cool, right? There was also a man who played the bagpipes before and during the race.

And, there were sweet, sweet mile markers during this race! Seeing each mile pass is wonderful. I love mile markers!

I finally jogged today after all that walking from the past 2 days. This was the last half marathon of the weekend, so I didn’t have to try to conserve my energy. I didn’t jog a lot, but I jogged it out in the first mile, which felt great.

I’m glad I saved a bunch energy for this race, ‘cause there were a couple of hills that were killer.

Six miles in, and far up a hill, I passed a medical station (which was the first one of the weekend). I didn’t think I needed anything from them until they yelled out that they had sunscreen. I’m in! I am always in for sunscreen.

I started talking to Rayna, Brian, and Siobhan – the medical staff. I took a little break to a) sunscreen up real good and b) hear about how their passion for working in the medical profession and how each one of them found it as their calling.

At some point, I decided I couldn’t sit around and talk all day, it was time to keep climbing up that hill.

At some point, I came across a full Gatorade just sitting on a guar rail. Huh. Was this left here by some kind stranger? I checked it out. The seal was broken, so I left it be.

Once I got in the last two miles, I was really starting to drag. I started with loads of energy and I was so done around mile 11. We went onto a bike path, so I didn’t even have the highway to entertain me anymore.

My dad and I talked on the phone for a bit. He said he was wearing his t-shirt from the Indy 500 Festival (his first half marathon (that we did together)), and I was wearing my 500 Festival shirt as well!

I guess maybe it’s not all that cool, but I thought it was pretty neat.

Eventually, I made it to the finish. There was a woman there (Dianna) who’d made cakes for everyone who had a birthday that day. She’d made some extras and gave me one. What? A free cake? An entire cake… not a piece of cake, but a whole cake. Boom. How awesome.

… Except I was still in vegan week! I couldn’t eat it, but I could try to get it back to L.A. with me in one piece, and eat it the moment I could have dairy.

I went back to the hotel to grab my bag and the shuttle to the airport. Embarrassingly, I didn’t have any cash to tip the bellman. So, I gave him my cake. At first he was all, “Oh, I couldn’t take your cake,” but saying it in that way where you see in his eyes that he really, really wants that cake. I implored him to take it.

The sweet staff seemed excited about cake. They said they’d share it at the end of their shift.  I’m glad the cake found a good home.

As I was waiting for the shuttle, the woman at the concierge desk said, “Did you know you were in the local paper? I recognized you from your hat! Here, I printed out your article.”

How random and sweet, right? She liked my story. We had a lovely, short conversation. It was time to head home to L.A.

First triple half-marathon/39.3 weekend complete! Boom, baby!

(#32) The Tahoe Nevada Half Marathon (Tahoe Trifecta Day 2) – Part 2 (Encouraging Maria To The Finish)

September 30, 2012

Picking up from yesterday, I was gearing up to not come in last.

With somewhere between a mile and two miles to go, I came upon Maria.

Maria was limping along. I asked if she was okay. She said she was in a lot of knee pain, but determined to finish. I asked if there was anything I could do, but there wasn’t. There weren’t any medical professionals I could run up to (no medical stops at this race). I didn’t have anything on me that could be helpful (wrap, ice, painkillers).

A part of me thought about just walking on to the finish. I was sort of on autopilot, ready to be done (and to not come in last).

A bigger part of me thought about how I try to convince my friends that they should run with me. I find running and running events to be so very joyous, and I want to share them with everyone!

When I offer to do half marathons with friends who’ve never done them, I make a promise to them. I say that I will not let them fail. I will entertain them through pain (if they have any). I will hold their hand. I will let them lean on me and hobble along if necessary. No matter what happens, I will not leave their side until we make it to the finish line.

I thought, if that’s what I’m offering my friends, how can I not offer that same thing to a stranger? I’m obviously not setting a PR here. As Will Ferrell’s character says in Talladega Nights, “If you’re not first, you’re last.” So, who cares if I come in last or not last, when really they’re both last by that logic.

Leave Maria to hobble the last mile-something alone? I just can’t do that.

I ask if she wants a walking buddy, and she starts crying. She thanks me, and talks about how she’s been injured for a few miles and it’s been so lonely. We exchange names. I do my best to get us talking about things that make her happy – her kids, her husband, her hobbies.

It’s not too long before her husband runs up from the finish. Her trainer comes along not too far behind him. We all stay with Maria until we get to the finish line. (I was going to say “we got Maria to the finish,” but we didn’t. She obviously got herself there with her determination. She is awesome and will not be stopped.)

We finished strong. We all hugged a lot, and said our goodbyes.

…and we didn’t come in last!

Day 2 complete.

One more note before we move on to the final half marathon of the weekend. I made the paper! If you want to see the article in the Tahoe Daily Tribune, you can check it out here.

(#32) The Tahoe Nevada Half Marathon (Tahoe Trifecta Day 2) – Part 1 (Recognized By A Stranger (Famous Much? ;)) And Running On A Highway Shoulder)

September 29, 2012

On the shuttle to the race, I was talking to the people around me. Someone said, “You’re Aurora?” I said, “Yes. Did I say that already?” (I didn’t remember introducing myself yet (which I suppose was a little on the rude side for me to just launch into conversation without even saying my name).)

He said, “No, I recognized you from your blog.” What?! Whoa. He said he found it through Google Reader or something. He asked me some questions about some races I’d done. He really had, in real life, read my blog.

In fact, he told me that he signed up for these races because he saw them on my blog and thought they looked fun. Wow, right? I really hope he had a great, fun weekend overall. And Paul, if you happen to be reading, feel free to chime in in the comments (or email me) with how the weekend ended for you.

I found today’s race funny because they said, “You’re gonna run 10 miles along the highway, but we didn’t close it down, so be careful.” I love that we were just a big pack of people going along the highway. From all accounts I heard, there weren’t even any signs put up before the 10-mile stretch warning drivers, “Hey, watch out for a fair number of runners in the middle of a half marathon.”

I can’t say for certain there were no signs, but I talked to some peoples’ relatives who drove that stretch who said they didn’t see any warning signs.

Best of all, not only we were trying to stay in the small shoulder area, there was a bike ride at the same time (run by the same half marathon people) using the same shoulder! So, the runners and cyclists were trying to use the same tiny piece of road, while going in opposite directions, and they were doing it while trying to avoid cars in the lane we were trying our best to stay out of.

The thing about going along the shoulder in that part of Lake Tahoe is that there were numerous areas where, if you went too far away from the road, you didn’t just end up in the woods, you fell off a cliff. Sometimes we were sandwiched between guard rails and the road. It was interesting to say the least.

I walked this race as well (as yesterday’s). I’d never done a triple before, so I felt that saving up energy making sure I could get through the final race was the best strategy that I could take this weekend. Today I did walk faster, though. I kept up with other walkers, because being with people is far more interesting than being without them.

I gabbed for a while with a woman named Jackie. She was a treasure for listening to me ramble on about pretty much nothing as we passed the time. We traded off at different points – visiting groups of other walkers – her passing me sometimes, me passing her sometimes.

In the last few miles, we were off the highway and into a neighborhood. I hit a quicker speed-walking type stride. Let’s get real, I was ready for this race to be over. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable. It was just my second one of the weekend. And the nature was beautiful, but a little repetitive.

I ended up passing Jackie with my new rocking strides. I walked out a good deal ahead of her and her walking buddy (to where I couldn’t even see them anymore). I was ready beat somebody after coming in dead last the day before.

This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

(#31) The Emerald Bay Half Marathon (Tahoe Trifecta Day 1)

September 28, 2012

assortment of vegan foods and my bib left in my hotel room by my friends Wendy and MartyI got into Tahoe around 3 in the morning, and waiting for me in my hotel room was an assortment of vegan snacks that Marty and Wendy had left for me! (And they’d picked up my bib for me as well. They are such lovely friends.)

That was so sweet of them, and extremely appreciated. (I was struggling like crazy with the whole vegan thing.) Did you know unfrosted pop-tarts are vegan? I didn’t. Yum.

I smiled at the kind gesture, then fell straight asleep. Morning came 2 hours later. I threw on some clothes, and headed down to the shuttle across the street.

My big strategy was to go as slowly as I could the first day. With three half marathons in a row this weekend, I wanted to wake up for day two feeling like I hadn’t even done one the day before.

I strolled along the course, checking out the gorgeous scenery, and listening to some great music in my headphones.

At the end of the first mile, there was a person there who said you’re at mile 1, let you know what your time was, and said something encouraging. (At least, that’s what happened by me since there was barely anybody back where I was. I’m sure with the big groups of runners he probably just yelled out “mile 1!” or the runners’ time at that mile as they whizzed by.)

I thought, “Human mile markers? That’s fun!” Alas, he was the only one. The rest of the mile markers were… well, they were mainly non-existent. I saw markers here and there for mile 5 or mile 10, but there were long stretches where you just kind of had to guess/feel it.

Part of the course was through a construction zone, which I thought was something. I don’t know if that something is that it was hilarious, or challenging, or dangerous, or what it was; but it was definitely something.

The runners could be on the sidewalk sometimes. Sometimes they couldn’t. We passed men with hard hats, and loud and fast tools. Cars had a little extra room to try to avoid runners sometimes. Sometimes they didn’t. There were cones and things that seemed to make lanes a little smaller.

Cars and construction workers had a fun time trying to avoid runners. Runners had a fun time trying to avoid cars, construction workers, and obstacles (such as gaping holes where sidewalks would be filled in later). As far as I know, everyone successfully made it through without injury!

There were these two blocks I walked through that had three wedding chapels! Three! If you stood at the center one, you were in viewing range of the other two. At least one was open 24 hours/day. There are that many people getting married in Tahoe to necessitate such demand? I had no idea.

Around mile 8, I stopped and talked for a while with the man handing out water. This was a pretty small race without a bunch of spectators and bands and things. I was quite happy to see another human, and I took a nice big break to say hi.

Not long after that, I stopped into a Staples to use the restroom, and I did a teeny-tiny little look around while I was in there. (I’m kind of obsessed with office supplies. I love them, and Staples very well may be my favorite store.)

Okay, but enough with all the shopping, break-times, and sauntering. You are in a half marathon here, Aurora.

I headed on out toward the finish.

I walked for a while, and thought, “Goodness gracious, this race is seeming a little on the long side.” I kept walking… Still not to the finish.

For once, I’m actually pretty certain I’m not lost. My friend who’d already finished, and the man at the water stop made sure I knew where to take my turns, since I was in the back (and apparently other people had gotten lost).

I finally made it to the finish in something like 5 hours, and I collected my medal.

Luckily, I was not the only one who thought the course felt long. Wendy and Marty mapped it. Sure enough, it was 14.91 miles. Yee haw.

Wendy, Marty, and I went out for some vegan lunch. (I’ll admit it was delicious.) Then we took a trip to the grocery store where they showed me all the vegan things I could eat. It was a very helpful field trip. (Did you know you can still have Oreos? I didn’t.)

We swing by the expo to pick up our t-shirts. Now it’s time to get sleep to prepare for another 13.1 tomorrow!

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 25 (The “Fail/Pass School, School, School” Chapter)

September 26, 2012

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Last week, I said I’d talk about what the school did for me.

I was actually planning on just taking the failures with the A’s. (I didn’t realize I had another choice.) One of my professors started prodding, and getting involved. He made me meet with one of the school counselors. I was extremely resistant.

I was really stubborn, and assumed the school wasn’t going to do anything to help. (What could they do? They already said they couldn’t overrule the teachers or force them not to take attendance into account.)

I also didn’t want to meet with a guidance counselor because I didn’t like the word “counselor.” I didn’t want anyone coming at me with “sweet face,” and “sweet voice,” saying, “How are you handling all this? This is so much for someone your age, etc.” I had really heard enough of that and sort of constantly wanted to scream at people.

I will talk more about that in the next post, but for now I’m taking a break from doing constant tangents.

I don’t remember how I was finally convinced to take the meeting with the counselor, but I did.

No, I would not like to talk about my “problems.” Thanks, kindly.

Apparently, one of the various fees we paid with tuition was for some kind of student insurance in case some big life event happened. The insurance made it possible to withdraw from the entire semester at any time (including the very end).

My choice was to take the A’s and F’s I had (and take it all, the failures with the successes), or withdraw from everything. There was no in between.

Part of me wanted to just take the failures. I’d worked so unbelievably hard in the classes I was getting A’s in. I’d put in so very, very many hours on all of my projects. It was hard to imagine to that all over again.

It’s the general consensus from everything I’ve heard that 3rd semester is the hardest, so I did not want to repeat it. It’s the semester where we get our biggest project – the soundalike.

Repeating those hard classes was not something I enjoyed thinking about. But in the end, failing half of my classes was something that sounded even worse. So, I withdrew from the entire semester.

At least it’d be easier the second time around, right? In some ways it was, in some ways it wasn’t We’ll talk about that later.

Going into my next semester at Berklee, I knew that I was going to be out for open-heart surgery for several weeks. I planned accordingly and talked to teachers ahead of time. I didn’t want to waste yet another semester of school, and I knew some people professors be willing to work with me.

I found a schedule of classes I could take that would let me work remotely when necessary, and would let me try to work ahead as much as possible so that by the time I went in for open-heart surgery in March, I’d be as close to done with all my work as was possible.

As I was figuring out my schedule, I talked to the MP&E department asking if I could smush two semesters together (since I’d already done the work leading to the next one).

They actually gave me permission to do that! However, Stephen, my incredibly awesome professor got wind of this and called me from Hawaii. He spent probably an hour with me on the phone talking about the pros and cons (mainly cons) of doing that.

So, so very stubborn. (That’s my deal.)

I knew that by spending all that time (in Hawaii) trying to convince me not to take on too much, he must really think it was important that I stuck to just repeating the semester I’d done. I trust him a ton.

A main idea behind that was that while some work could be reused, some couldn’t. I’d still have word to do, and taking on something like seven Music Production and Engineering classes in the same semester really would have been a lot.

Plus, it would be very possible to get through classes I’d pretty much done before. But he thought that missing 1/2 the semester in new classes would take a toll on me. They very well might’ve. So, I did a very un-Aurora thing.

I definitely wasn’t known for backing down (or compromising). Sometimes that results in brilliance. Sometimes not. It is possible that not being too terribly stubborn is a good quality. So, I decided to be human and do what a “normal” person would do.

This is where I’ll pick up next week.

(#30) Rock ‘n’ Roll Denver – Part 4 (The End Of An Emotional Roller-Coaster Of A Day)

September 25, 2012

Yesterday, I left off with the fun volunteers and spectators.

One thing I noticed in Denver was that there were children! Kids, I tell you! I never think about how rare it is to see a child in Los Angeles, until I see lots and lots of children in Denver. Families. Weird, right?

I love when I see little kids at races with their families. They get to see from an early age how amazing and incredibly fun running events can be. (Yay!)

As the race went on, it sort of felt like the majority of ground I was covering was in a park. As miles wore on, I kept looking around thinking, “Haven’t I been in a park already?” “Is this the same park I was just in?” “How much park space is there in Denver?”

Then, I came across a little path where I could see the end, and the end was a road where I’d walk the same area going the opposite direction. And at the end of that, we’d walk back down in a different lane of that same road, only in the opposite direction again (the same direction we had started going while on the paved park trail). Goodness gracious.

Okay, weave, weave, weave. Do that for a while. Eventually, I made it out of the turnaround/turnaround.

At some point before the relay switch point, I met this amazing woman wearing an Obama pin on her hat. That spurred me to start a conversation, and she was so lovely. Then she had to leave me to tag in her relay partner. Wah wah.

I was getting a little tired toward the double-digit miles. (It had been a long morning, and I was coming off of no sleep.) Somewhere around mile 11, I ran into Chaunecey. (I’m not sure if I’m spelling his name correctly, but it was cool. It wasn’t “Chauncey.” It was pronounced Chaun-ess-see. Or maybe that is just how they pronounce Chauncey in a far away land? I’m not sure…)

Anyway, I run into, let’s call him Chaun. And he gave me a little packet of Mini-Oreos, thereby becoming my new best friend.

My energy level skyrocketed. (I’m not saying it’s healthy to have sugar rushes, but in that moment, I was all “Yeah, baby! Let’s do this race!”)

I started running. I ran around to different groups. Whenever I heard some fun-sounding people behind me, I ran back to see what was going on back there.

Life was good. I finished strong, with Ann the awesome race announcer saying, “Look who it is!” She gave me a big high-five as she danced by the finish.

Then, they gave us more food than I’ve seen at any finish line! There were burritos, my friends. Burritos!

As a nice woman handed me my Evol burrito, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. But then, I had to hand it back and say, “Sorry, I’m vegetarian this week.”(!)

First, she laughed at me when I said, “this week.” But then she gave me one without meat! Sweet business.

I also got a banana, a Gatorade, chocolate milk, a Marathon bar, a water, and a bag of Snikiddy baked fries. They fed us super well after that race. And thank goodness considering I was still without any money.

To add to my mix of lovely moments and not as lovely moments in this day of emotional roller-coasting, as I was walking toward bag check, a volunteer said, “How’d you do?” I smiled and said, “Well, I finished.” He said, “But what was your time?” I said “Really, really slow.” “Numbers. What was it?” “Pushing 4 hours.” “For the marathon?” “The half.” Then in all seriousness, with disgust, he said “Ugh, that is slow!” Yeah, man. I know! I’d been dodging your question for a couple of rounds. You could tell that I definitely knew I wasn’t fast. Do you need to bring so much negative attention to it?

I grabbed my backpack, and made it back to the airport. Sure enough, my wallet had been found!

I picked up some dinner at Sbarro, and a man very quietly paid for it for me. When I got up to the register, the woman pointed to the man who had already walked away. She said, “He paid for it.” I yelled out, “Thank you!” He turned around, gave a little smile, and went on his way.

What a lovely random act of kindness.

(#30) Rock ‘n’ Roll Denver – Part 3 (Getting My Packet, Starting The Race)

September 24, 2012

Picking up from two days ago –

(or yesterday if you want – though I say skip it. (It wasn’t a pleasant post)) –

I get off the connecting bus, and get onto yet a third bus. My first two buses were empty, except for the drivers (and me). This bus was packed. I found three really nice people wearing bibs for the race. I figured if I stuck with them, I’d get there. (I did.)

As I talked to my new friends, I got my sunglasses out of my bag. Pop! One of the sides came (that goes on your ear) came off. (It was a roller-coaster ride of emotion that morning!)

We racers jumped off the bus downtown. (I know, it only took me ’til part 3 to start talking about being at the actual race…and I still have yet to talk about the race actually starting.)

I made my way over to the solutions table to pick up my bib and chip.

As always, they asked for my ID. All of the blood rushed out of my face. (In case you don’t remember from part 1, I’d lost my wallet at the airport!) I had nothing. My brain started listing some possible solutions.

“Maybe I can whip out my iPhone and show them my blog with a bunch of posts and pictures of me.” “Maybe I can go to the ‘my finisher’ section for any of the Rock ‘n’ Roll races I’ve done so far this year and show them all of my official finisher photos from their races.” It wouldn’t necessarily prove it was me, but if I was trying to pull one over on them, it would’ve been happening for a while now, and I would’ve put a lot of work into it.

spectator at the Rock 'n' Roll Denver half marathon 2012 holding a sign that says "I don't even know you, but I am so PROUD of you!"
I will never stop loving these kinds of signs. Thank you, stranger.

Before I have to offer any ideas (beg for their grace and lenience), the person I’m talking to points me to a person, who points me to another person. I meet someone very official-looking in front of a computer. She asks me what street I live on and what my email address is. I answer correctly, so I am approved! Thanks goodness!

I throw on my bib and timing chip and make my way across the park (to where I just came from) to check my bag. At this point, the race is starting. Luckily, I’m in one of the last corrals, so I’m still cool.

Fun side note: I pass someone I went to high school with, who’s working a bunch of the Rock ‘n’ Roll races. (I had also seen him all dressed up in a toga at Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego.) It’s always lovely running into an old friend. We say a quick hello, squeeze in a quick hug, and I make my way back to the starting line (by the solutions desk I had just come from).

I ran a bit in the first mile. (I had a morning that merited running it out a little.) But, I knew that with a triple half marathon weekend coming up, the new altitude in Denver, and my lack of sleep; I should probably go pretty easy on myself. I walked a lot, and bounced around between some lovely groups of walkers.

In one of my walking groups, we got on the subject of Cory Booker. (I feel like he comes up sort of a lot lately. Maybe ‘cause he’s awesome.) Our group was talking about things that would make us run (as opposed to walk) if we saw them up ahead. Some people thought of their favorite foods. I said I’d run if I could meet Cory Booker, because you know, he’s Cory Booker.

Sometimes I ran anyway, ’cause running is quite enjoyable. And as it says in the Maroon 5 song, “it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.” The change in altitude wasn’t really that horrible. The struggle would come and go. If I started to push myself a little, I, of course, felt it more than when I was strolling along.

Every time I did push myself and felt the difference, I thought, “And you wanna run the Everest Marathon at some point? You better train, girl! Everyone encouraged drinking more water at high altitudes, so I did. It was quite helpful. I guess what I’m saying is as long as I drink about 80 gallons of water on Everest, I’ll be cool.

Speaking of water, they had awesome volunteers in Denver working all the water stops. And, they had some rocking spectators encouraging us all along the way, which is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

(#30) Rock ‘n’ Roll Denver – Part 2 (Arguing With The Bus Driver)

September 23, 2012

Unless you want to get mad and read a rant about an argument, I say skip today’s post.

Yesterday, we left off with me meeting the loveliest bus driver who made my morning.

Then it was time to get on a new bus…

When I get on my connecting bus, the bus driver starts making small talk with me. “So, where do you work?” “Oh, I work at Playboy.” Immediately he comes back with, “Oh, so you’re working in sin?”

Wait. What is happening here?

Now, I am not a great person, in the sense that sometimes I allow strangers to provoke me. The correct answer to, “You’re working in sin,” was probably to say, “Yep! Hardy, har, har.” Laugh it off, sit quietly, and be done.

For some reason (probably because he’s really hammering down about it and how I’m gonna have to “answer for the work I do”), I say I don’t feel bad about working there. And, “I could be working on shows that are a lot worse.”

He replies, “Like those shows where two men marry each other?” (He makes a disgusted noise.)

Oh boy.

We spend the rest of the bus ride discussing marriage equality, the Bible, and things of the sort.

(Once he said that there was something in the 10 commandments about men not fornicating with other men, I was all, “Yep, pretty sure that is not in the 10 commandments.” My iPhone came in pretty handy for verification purposes. Granted, he continued trying to twist the ten commandments anyway he could to say what he wanted, so verification didn’t necessarily help…)

I say that it’s not about what’s in the Bible, it’s about what our legal system and our society is going to recognize. He makes the argument that it should all be the same – our laws should be completely based off of the Bible.

I ask how you know what to discard and what to listen to. (Why is it okay to wear clothes of different fabrics woven together?) He says something about “just knowing” what will hurt us now (in modern times), and what won’t.

He starts talking about how gay marriage will mess up children, and how all children in gay households will grow up to be gay… you know, just like how all straight parents definitely have only straight kids. (That last part was a little sarcastic remark on my part, but he really did say that he thinks gay parents would only have gay kids.)

I start talking about how when we as a society say, “You are not equal,” it obviously makes some people feel like they in fact are not equal – as though they’re worth less than others. Some people in the LGBT community are physically harmed. Some people take their own lives because of the way hateful people make them feel.

And he says, “In Israel, they put you to death if you even think of another man that way.”

I ask, “Is that what you believe they should be doing?”

He says, “Well…. I think it’s a little extreme.”

I kid you not. Verbatim. He took a long pause after well, and he said “A little extreme.”

Then he goes on to say, “Don’t think I’m a hateful person.”

I say, “Well, you did just say that killing people based off of their sexual orientation was a little extreme.”

And he says, “Well, it is God’s country.” And he starts going on about how homosexuality is an abomination, and making it seem as though he really thinks being put to death for being gay is not the worst idea.

At that point, it’s time for me to get off the bus and go to the next one. (Thank goodness.)

As much as I didn’t agree with the things he said (and he didn’t agree with what I said), we didn’t scream or do anything crazy. We just had a conversation in which we didn’t agree.

Sometimes, it’s hard to know where the line is – when to be quiet, and when to speak out. I don’t want to go around assaulting people with words and opinions all day, but if he engages me in conversation, I see nothing wrong with respectfully (still passionately) standing up for what I believe in. (I was inspired by Andrew Rannells’ character in the most recent episode of The New Normal (“Baby Clothes”).)

I know that not everyone who is against marriage equality is like this bus driver. I’m not trying to paint a picture of an entire group of people as hateful or intolerant. I’m only telling the story of what transpired one morning between me and this one, specific man.

Sigh. Rant over, and I’ll get to the race tomorrow.

(#30) Rock ‘n’ Roll Denver – Part 1 (Oops! Early Morning Airport Surprise)

September 22, 2012

My flight from L.A. got in at 12:50am. I hung out at the airport until about 5, when it was time to start moseying down to the race. As I stepped onto the bus, the driver said, “That’ll be nine dollars.” Huh, a little steep for a normal city bus, perhaps? But okay. Let me just get out my –

Uh oh. My wallet is nowhere to be found. I start emptying out all the contents of my backpack. It must be in here somewhere… Nope. I go into security and let them know what’s up. The guard calls someone on his walkie talkie. The person on the walkie answered back. “By any chance, was she on American Airlines?” The security guard looks at me. “Yes, yes I was.” “Was she on the flight that got in at 12:50?” “Yes! Yes, that’s me!”

The security guard sent me with a different security guard up to the American Airlines counter. How lucky this is all working out so quickly. Except not. Once we get up there, we learn that there happened to be someone else on the same flight who also lost his wallet and it had already been returned to him. Then the American Airlines person told me that if they found my wallet, it would be in the special lost and found for valuables which doesn’t open until 7:30.

Okay, so now I’m alone in Denver, where I don’t know anyone. I have no money in any form on me. I have no definitive answer on whether my wallet actually has been found or not. All I really know is that I’m going to need to figure out a way to get downtown without it, ‘cause I’ve got to get to this race! (The race started at 7:15.)

I go back out to the buses. (That first one is long gone by this point.) And I tell the driver of the one that’s out there, “I’m so sorry to have this story. And I know everyone is always saying they ‘lost their wallet,’ but seriously. I have this race today. It’s number 30 of 52 in the year…”

He ends up completely saving my butt, letting me ride for free. Not only does he let me get on for free, he gives me a transfer so I can make it all the way down town without any problems.

We talked the whole way toward town about his family and my races. We bonded over heart stuff. He was a really lovely man. As I was getting off the bus, he handed me a ticket and said, “This’ll get you back to the airport after the race.” Sweet business. Thank you so much, kind sir.

And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 24 (The “Many, Many Blood Draws” Chapter)

September 19, 2012

(Photo Credit: ModernMedicalGuide.Com)

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Last week, I left off having a blood clot.

They took my blood all the time to make sure that all the counts of everything were still great (or working toward getting to be what they needed them to be).

I was woken up at crazy times in the nights to get my blood drawn. It had to be drawn every so many hours.

The longer I stayed, and more blood draws I got, the bruise-ier my arms became. It became harder and harder to draw blood from my veins. They started using backs of my hands. I was becoming a human pin cushion.

I remember the hospital being sort of pretty at the time. Someone wheeled me down for a test on some floor at some point, and I saw a tree lit up.

I was hoping I’d see holiday decorations somewhere, and I did! I think it’s awesome how much the hospital tries to make the patients comfortable.

I got out of the hospital sometime around the 19th. My dad and grandma stopped by again. Adorable, of course. Sweet, for sure. But come on, y’all. I’m a grown up. (We know I love them, right?)

They didn’t come to the hospital. They knew how much I would’ve absolutely hated that. I really appreciate that they respected those wishes. We went out to dinner at some rad place that was delicious. They pretty much just wanted to make sure I made it out alive before they went back to Ohio in time for Christmas.

I stayed in Massachusetts. I had the pleasure of getting my blood drawn a lot after I got out of the hospital. I don’t remember how often I had to go. There was some sort of step-down schedule. But at first I think I went once a day or once every other day. (I suppose I may remember it feeling like more than it really was, but I honestly think it was at least every other day at first.)

Luckily, Mass Gen wasn’t too terribly far from my apartment, and it was in a pretty area. Plus, I loved walking around gorgeous Massachusetts in the wintertime. So, other than the fact that my already over-plucked arms had to be pinched and prodded again, it wasn’t horrible.

(Photo Credit: AcclaimImages.com)

The people who took my blood were nice. The waiting room had magazines and a TV. What wasn’t to like?

That lasted, I think, basically though January-ish.

Before we jump to January and beyond, let me say a couple of things to wrap up December 2009.

I said in an earlier post that I’d say how my school was able to help me out. As I think I’ve mentioned before, half of my teachers were flexible and amazing. As the end of the semester came, I had A’s in their classes.

Half of my teachers did not want to work with me being in and out of class, and they said they would fail me.

I take responsibility a big chunk of it, though. It’s probably not too much of a coincidence that the teachers who worked with me, and supported me, taught classes I was excited about. I wanted to learn more about Music Production and Engineering. When I had been in class, I was almost always truly present, in the front row, note-taking, and excited to learn.

In those traditional music classes that I wasn’t super interested in (but had to take), my work wasn’t as good or thoughtful. My attitude wasn’t as excited and driven.

I didn’t come in as a jerk. I wasn’t straight up rude. But for those teachers, I think I was a student you could easily forget – not one you’d necessarily want to jump at the chance to help.

So, I don’t blame them that much. Of course there is a small part of me that feels like since I wasn’t a bad student,  per se, and since a lot happened that was way out of my control, that I should’ve been given the chance to just pass – even if just barely, with a bad grade – just to finish out the class.

But, life doesn’t always bend to what you want when things are out of your control. That’s part of life. It’s not all in your control – from heart stuff to other people’s responses, actions, etc.

Do I really think I deserve more from the trad music teachers? Not really. I think they were justified in not going out of their way to help.

As far as classes were concerned, I was half failing and half succeeding. I’ll pick up next week with how that worked out with the school.

(#29) Petaluma Clo-Cow Half Marathon – Part 2 (Lovely Spectators)

September 17, 2012

Yesterday, I left off saying that the course was hard.They warned us on the website, saying, “If you’re tired of those boring ‘flat and fast’ half’s, this one is for you!”

They were right! This was a tough race with tons of hills, and barely anything that was flat. I was constantly going up and down. It made it an interesting journey, for sure.

Every volunteer I passed was so sweet and fun. Each person seemed completely stoked to be there. I always felt super supported, even though I was the very last one.

Special shout out to the “Girls on the Run” water stop!

“Girls on the Run” is (from their website): “dedicated to creating a world where every girl knows and activates her limitless potential and is free to boldly pursue her dreams… Running is used to inspire and motivate girls, encourage lifelong health and fitness, and build confidence through accomplishment.”

That’s an organization I can definitely get behind. Both times I passed their water stop, all the girls (the elementary-schoolers, and the grown up women alike) were nothing but joyous. They had endless energy!

Even though I was dead last, once I was in the ladies’ sight, all the little girls leaped into action. One girl rang a cowbell with more enthusiasm than anyone in the history of cowbells has rang one. Girls grabbed gels and water, offering me anything I needed. And the big kids (or grown-ups, you could say) facilitated all that awesomeness by being awesome themselves.

Huge props to the organization itself, the women who ran the water stop, the race for including “Girls on the Run,” and the girls who worked tirelessly for hours to support every runner out there. A+. I was moved by all the joy there. I sincerely hope that those girls can find that joy throughout the rest of their lives, and that “Girls on the Run” inspires more girls with every year!

Even though I’m sending that group a special shout-out, every volunteer at the race was awesome. There wasn’t a single volunteer who seemed annoyed to still be out there as I passed by them (again, in dead last place).

When I finally made it around to the finish, every police officer and spectator I passed cheered me on. “You’re almost there!” “You can do it!” This was a sweet, sweet town where no one seemed to care that I was incredibly slow.

I finally turned the corner and ran into the finish as the clock said 3:59:18. (The time limit was 4 hours, and I made it, by golly!)

The moment I crossed the finished, I was greeted by a whole team of lovely people from Clover Stornetta Farms – a company sponsoring the race.

They handed me some delicious chocolate milk, some water, a towel, and best of all, the absolute best medal I’ve gotten yet! It’s a cowbell that makes noise and everything. And it is loud!

You could easily tell who’d run the race, ’cause you’d hear them coming a mile away. I loved it.

I stopped off for some delicious lunch at this local place called McNear’s. I had pancakes with strawberry butter, which I didn’t know was a thing, but now it’s a thing I like a lot.

I jumped on a bus and slept pretty much the entire way from San Francisco to Los Angeles.

Great race. Great community. Great fun. Great day!

(#29) Petaluma Clo-Cow Half Marathon – Part 1 (A Cool Community & A Cold Morning)

September 16, 2012

"Holy Cow! You're at Mile Marker 08" - encouraging mile marker at the Petaluma Clo-Cow Half Marathon 2012
I enjoyed these fun markers with different cow themed sayings at every mile!

What a lovely community! I’m so happy I made it out to this race.

After my fun ride up California with Dave and Dave, I made my way to SFO in the middle of the night, to catch the San Fran to Petaluma shuttle.

The first shuttle of the day didn’t leave until 5:30am. I hung out at the airport for about four hours, and got in two twenty-minute naps.

I was a little worried that I might be late to the race. The shuttle was scheduled to get in at 7am – right when the race started. (And the drop off point was about a mile and a half from the start line.)

Luckily, our awesome bus driver got us in around 6:40. I made it to the start with just enough time to grab my bib, check my bag, and line up. The volunteers were super helpful to us last-minuters!

It was pretty cold in Petaluma. People told me they’d been getting a lot of fog lately, which I actually appreciated so much during the run. Moisture in the air! Sweet, precious moisture. (I have the absolute driest skin of anyone, anywhere. Obviously, L.A. is the perfect place for someone like me to live. (That’s sarcastic. because it’s so very dry out here.)) Running through clouds of moisture was such a wonderful gift!

Because of cold weather, I ended up wearing every piece of clothing I brought with me. I put my pajama pants on over my running pants. I added an extra shirt as well. In total, I was wearing 3 shirts and 2 pairs of pants.

Clover Stornetta Farms cow mascot Clo the Cow at the start of the Petaluma Clo-Cow Half Marathon 2012
Photo Credit: Clover Stornetta

I shuffled through the start, all bundled up. Through the crowd, I saw the cow mascot out there there giving us high-hooves (cow high-fives), which was fun.

I moo-ved toward him, and got my high-hoove as well. (There was a ton of cow word play at the race, so you’ve gotta let me have one fun attempt with it.)

I quickly decided I didn’t feel like running, so I hung out in the back of the pack with some walkers. I met this fun, silly group of adult siblings. (There were 4 brothers and 1 sister doing the half. They had even more siblings (plus their mom) in the 5k.)

I also walked for a while with Marc, a man who started doing half marathons because his wife got swept at a Disney race (her first one). She was pretty upset about it (understandably). Instead of telling her to give up, he stepped up and helped her train!

She’s gone on to do a bunch of races, and has never gotten swept again. I guess all the training helped her, ‘cause she was running far out ahead of us!

He had some fun stories of races they’d done and people they’d met. Eventually, I let him walk out in front of me, ‘cause I was getting tired and needed to slow my walking pace. (What a sad sentence, right? That I can’t even keep up with someone who’s walking? Wah wah.)

In my defense, this course was hard!  (Super fun, for sure. But still hard.)

And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

Dave & Dave (And My Trip to Petaluma)

September 15, 2012

I’m really pumped about the Clo-Cow half marathon, and I thought it would be fun to go to the expo. (Don’t get excited though, that didn’t happen.)

I liked the idea of meeting a bunch of fun people, and a cow was going to be there for a couple of hours!

I started looking at bus schedules and realizing how hard it would be to make it all the way up to NoCal in time.

I would’ve had to leave immediately after my Friday class. Then I’d have to find a place to stay on Saturday. It seemed like a small ordeal to go to the expo.

Then, I started thinking, “A cow sounds really fun in theory, ’cause I’m picturing an adorable cartoon cow. But in real life it’s gonna be an actual animal. So, terrifying then.”

I decided to just ride straight to the race.

I think it was the right decision, ’cause I ended up meeting super fun new friends anyway! I got on the Greyhound from L.A. to San Fran at 4:15pm on Saturday. I ended up in line behind Dave and Dave (yes, they were both named Dave). They were from England, and they were 8 months in to an around-the-world adventure together!

my new friends Dave and Dave outside the Greyhound bus in San Francisco, CA after midnight
Dave and Dave

They were too cool! They just decided, “I’ve always wanted to travel. Life is happening now. I’m gonna go do it.” So, Dave #1 quit his job. Dave #2 took a year-long sabbatical from work.

Off they went! They’ve been everywhere. Their pictures were breathtaking, and they had all of these super cool experiences from different parts of the world.

They rode ostriches! They tried grasshoppers. They made new friends everywhere they went. And they were totally flying by the seat of their pants!

I asked where they were staying in San Francisco. They had no idea. They looked up hostels on the bus once we were almost to there. They had faith that wherever they went, they’d be able to figure out something.

They were incredibly awesome and inspiring, and I wanted to drop everything and spend the next three months traveling across America with them. I didn’t, but I thought about it!

Their journey’s gonna end in New York. I told them it’s a good thing they’re ending there, ‘cause they might be compelled to stay there forever. Dave #1 said he’s prepared for that scenario. If he finds a place in his year of travel that really speaks to him, he’ll up and move there. How cool, right? – So free and open to life.

I can’t wait to hear what happens with the rest of their journey!

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 23 (The “Blood Clot On My Heart” Chapter)

September 12, 2012

(Not the actual doors at Mass Gen, just what I could find online.)
(Photo Credit: Art.com)

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

I left off last week with waking up in the ICU.

I had this humongous room all to myself. Uh, what happened?

I’m not really sure. Something to do with my liver or something. Okay, I guess that’s not really a satisfying answer. They said that something got nicked during surgery. I’m hesitant to share that part, because I don’t want it to sound like anybody at Mass General makes any mistakes.

Obviously, I’m fine. They went out of their way to take exquisite care of me. I think more than anything, they were just being incredibly cautious by putting me in the ICU. They are so very patient-focused as Mass Gen. They take every precaution to make sure every patient is totally taken care of.

In one of the earlier posts I mentioned that there was a blogger who said that his epicardial ablation was the worst thing ever. He made it sound quite painful, and all around awful.

For me, it was not like that. I felt totally fine, maybe a little (lot) drugged, but fine.

Before I had the epicardial ablation, I was warned that if it didn’t work, the next and last step that could actually fix my heart problem was open-heart surgery.

I don’t remember exactly when I was told that the ablation was unsuccessful – soon after surgery, later that night, or the next morning. Sometime around that day, I was lying down in my hospital bed. When I opened my eyes, I looked up and saw the doctor. The first thing he told me was that the epicardial ablation was unsuccessful. I’m glad he just spit out that news first, ’cause that was all I wanted to know.

I wasn’t shocked. I hadn’t had the greatest bit of luck up to that point with the failed ablations, failed medicines, ulcer, and all that jazz. I had already been told that my extra pathway was in a very hard to get area. So, open-heart surgery was up next.

Oh, one more thing… Actually, a lot more things. (I talk a lot is the point of this picture and this caption.)

Stephen, my amazing professor, came to visit me the night of my epicardial ablation. I told him it was super unnecessary, but he came anyway (from a party and everything – how kind, right?). In the end, I did appreciate it.

But don’t get any ideas, people of the world. Usually I was so annoyed at the thought of visitors. I was ready to Taser anybody else who came all up in my biznatch, but Stephen has a superhuman ability to deal with mere mortals such as my annoying self, so he was cool.

I probably rambled like a crazy person when he saw me. I  know that’s sort of base level life for me, but I’m thinking I rambled more than usual. Who knows? I don’t. Well, he does, actually. I asked if he remembered what that night was like. He said I was super-talkative – which he took as a good sign (since that’s kind of who I am (in case you couldn’t tell)).

The next day, I was deemed stable enough to move out of the ICU (yee-haw). Originally, I was supposed to go home the next day.

Funny story, I had a blood clot on my heart.

I had to stay in the hospital while I got Heparin, and they sorted the whole blood thing out (by thinning my blood).

I didn’t mind the extra days in the hospital too terribly much. I think I ended up staying 5 or so days in total that visit. Part of me was getting a bit of cabin fever at the end. I kept looking out at the snow, and it was gorgeous, absolutely breathtakingly beautiful.

There was definitely part of me that wanted to run outside and feel the cold winter’s night air while I ran through the snow. But other than that, I pretty much was just thinking that the whole hospital thing was ridiculous. At that point, it seemed like everything always went wrong anytime I entered some kind of medical place. Of course I have a blood clot, right? How could I not?

And this is where I’ll pick up next week.

(#28) Marathon Madness Half Marathon

September 9, 2012

This was my 3rd race with Rocket Racing Productions. It was lovely (as were my first two with them).

Mark and Michelle, the race directors, have incredible attitudes. They are truly be excited about promoting fitness (of all levels). They don’t seem to care if people are out there sprinting or walking – as long as people are out there moving.

The usual Rocket Racing course recently got moved from Long Beach to Santa Monica. The new path by Santa Monica Pier was a fun change of scenery.

During my 13.1 walk, I saw a display of super adorable father/son bonding time. This dad was teaching his son (with some insanely cool name that I’d never heard before, Chumbleberg, or something awesome like that) how to ride a bike. Little Chumble would ride a bit, then stop and look up at that dad. Chumbly would be doing so great. For whatever reason, he’d get scared that the greatness was about to end, so he’d stop. The dad – let’s call him Prigglehouden, ’cause you know, why not? – he was super patient and all smiles the whole time.

On the opposite end of the spectrum from the adorable loveliness, part of the run was terrifying. For the first 3 miles, there was an almost uncountable number of dogs roaming free! Tons of people took their dogs out without leashes – without leashes!

Of course there are signs all over the place about not having dogs in certain areas, and making sure dogs stay on leashes in areas where they are allowed. Are the people of Santa Monica heeding these signs? No, they are not.

As you can tell by the fact that I’m writing this, I did somehow live. Barely, obviously, but somehow I did successfully escape Santa Monica unscathed.

I never realized that if you walk down about 3 miles from Santa Monica pier – which has rides, and tourists, and things; you hit this sort of dingy area where dogs are out to get you, and random people are yelling things to the world around them. Huh.

There was this storefront with a sign for beach botox between California Toe Rings – custom fit since 1995, and medical marijuana place. I thought, “Yeah, this little storefront in this rickety, icky area is exactly where people should come to get the poison in their face. When I’m dealing with changes to my face, I always think I should have needles poked in it, on a whim, at the beach.” (That doesn’t have to do with the race really. I saw it in my pictures and felt like sharing.)

Someone had put up a sign offering advice for $1, but small talk was free. I thought that was sort of a fun idea. I’d like to put a sign out on the beach offering free small talk, and see how many/what type of people come over to visit.

When I made it to Michelle’s aid station, I stopped and talked with her for a while about the vegetarian challenge I’m on, and what I think it will be like to be vegan for a week.

I talked about one of my frustrations in figuring out the best food philosophies, is that there is so much conflicting information out there. Turns out, Michelle has a degree in nutrition.

Even she agreed that there are tons of conflicting viewpoints out there – that all have various studies and proof to back them up. (Granted, some are sponsored by certain companies, and some are less scientific than others.)

I’m glad I’m not alone in thinking that food is confusing. Of course, she’s way less confused than I am. She does have a degree in nutrition, after all. (“Confused” probably isn’t even the right word for her. (I, on the other hand, am definitely at least slightly confused.))

I got lost a little at the end. I overshot the finish. After walking for a while more than I should’ve been; I finally thought, “I really feel as though I should’ve seen the finish by now.” I got out my GPS. Sure enough, I’d overshot it. I headed back, found the finish, and got my medal – with a time of 4:28:03.

And there was cheese pizza waiting at the finish. Sweet business!

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 22 (The “Time On My Hands/Going In For The Epicardial Ablation” Chapter)

September 5, 2012

diagram of different lines on a circle - tangent, secant, diameter, chord radius
I know, I am constantly on a tangent.
(Photo Credit: MyChinaConnection.com)

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Last week was a tangent (as is the first part of this week). So, perhaps picking up from Part 20.

(Wow, that didn’t seem like such a ridiculous number of parts until I used it in a sentence.)

We’re gonna fast forward to December in a bit. (Skip down to the dotted line to get straight there.)

First, let’s touch on what I did in between the time of my last unplanned hospital visit in November and the epicardial ablation in mid-December.

Of course I spent time catching up on school as best as I could – and sort of trying to stay under the radar, ’cause all anybody was talking about was my heart.

I had an enormous amount of time on my hands. I wasn’t allowed to run. I went from working 60 (or more) hours in many weeks to working 0.

I didn’t have TV or internet in my apartment. (I also didn’t have a Facebook or any kind of time-sucking social media thing at the time.)

Homework surprisingly didn’t take as much time as you’d think it might. I got a ton of work done in the hospital in classes in which my teachers allowed me to work remotely. Some teachers had put their feet down about the too many absences thing. The school couldn’t overrule the teachers decisions. (Don’t think I’m hating on the school, though. They were able to help me somewhat – more on that in a later chapter.)

What to do with all this extra time? For one thing, I got a little weird. I kind of did this odd makeover thing. It wasn’t that I was really trying to reinvent myself, per se. It was just kind of like “What do people do when they have free time?”

I got a hair cut for the first time in years. This seems like a normal human errand. Fun. I tried some different colors.

I went through a red-haired phase for a bit. It was actually kind of cute, if I do say so myself.

(I used to have some pictures of me in the hospital once I got my red hair, and I can’t find them! Bummer.)

I started wearing high heels again (which I used to do everyday in high school – it was sort of my thing).

I still didn’t put on make-up, so don’t get the idea that I was super dolled up. But I changed things up. People started asking, “Oh, did you do something different to your hair?”  They said, “Wow, I’ve never seen you in heels before.”

When they were busy saying that, you know what it meant they weren’t saying? “How are you? How’s you’re heart?”

(Distraction accomplished.)

It’s sweet of them to ask how I was feeling, but we’ll talk later about those questions.

For now, let’s get to December and that epicardial ablation. (Finally! I know, right?)

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I checked into the hospital first thing in the morning. It was predetermined that I’d spend the night there. I am almost certain it was on December 14th, because I remember thinking, “What fun that this procedure/surgery thing fell on a Monday. I’ll get to watch those CBS shows!”

(CBS is the only broadcast network that doesn’t make their shows easily available online. So, this would be a fun time to check in on Monday night’s comedy block. (I’m not in love with CBS comedies (more of an NBC girl) but I like to check in on them now and again.)

The nurse said I probably wouldn’t be awake to watch them, but she underestimated how rare it was that I got to see CBS shows. I would fight through the drugs and tiredness.

I kind of did. I was in and out, but I’d say I caught at least 15 minutes of The Big Bang Theory. I can call that a win, right?

Let’s back up a bit, ’cause you didn’t come here to hear about CBS’s Monday night lineup.

So, I checked into the hospital in the morning. I don’t actually remember all that much about the pre-stuff. At some point in the morning, they put me under. Many hours later, I woke up in the ICU. Yep. The ICU. That was unexpected.

This is where I’ll pick up next week (seriously, with no tangent between this week’s end and next week’s beginning).

More Thoughts on the Disneyland Half Marathon

September 4, 2012

Dragon spewing green stuff at the LEGO store in Downtown Disney
Look at that cool dragon on the LEGO store in Downtown Disney!

The story has been sufficiently told, but there were two little things I forgot to mention, so I thought I’d throw in this post.

Because public transportation in L.A. is the way it is, I had to leave my house around 11pm to catch the last buses going to Disneyland. (The first ones in the morning didn’t get there early enough.)

I was walking through Downtown Disney around 1:45am. It was surprisingly calm and pretty to be strolling around Disney at night when barely anybody was there. I love walking around through fun, lit-up places at night. It’s always exciting to find a new one I like (especially since all the ones I currently like are in New York).

I found that sweet LEGO dragon in my fun, nighttime walk. And I saw a few super happy cast member stragglers walking out of the park. Either it’s not just an act and everyone at Disney is always that happy. Or, maybe they were happy that the day was done and all the tourists were at home. Either way, it was nice to see people just being joyous and enjoying being around each other when nothing was going on and no one was watching (well, except me, I guess).

I then went and sat in the lobby of the Adventureland tower at the Disney hotel. I figured that maybe if I  was dressed like a runner with my official Disney runner plastic bag for bag check; they’d think I was a guest who got up early and was dozing off, instead of riff-raff sleeping in their lobby. I looked as put together and “runnery” as possible. I opened up an Entertainment Weekly to make it look like I was accidentally dozing. Sure enough, no one bothered me. Success!

After a couple of hours of half-asleep sleep, I officially woke up, walked to the starting line with Wendy, and did the race (which I’ve already talked about).

And there was one thing I forgot to mention in the race report. There was a woman holding a sign that said, “It’s your moment today.” For some reason that really hit me, because I think we have a tendency to celebrate silly moments in our culture.

For instance, we celebrate birthdays… We didn’t do anything special on that day, yet that’s “our moment.” We often celebrate weddings as “the bride’s moment.” (Not all weddings are this way of course, but far too often, they’re not about celebrating love. They’re a day for a bride to dress up as a princess (and be “given away” from one man to another man – don’t get me started on weddings).)

But this really is your moment today. And I’m not just talking about half marathons. I’m talking about any day where we actually accomplish something. The day you climb a mountain? That’s your moment. The day you get a 2400 on the SATs? Your moment. If you’re Cory Booker, every day is your moment because you’re being a constant hero.

I thought it was really great to have someone reminding us, “It’s your moment!” (Thank you, kind stranger.) I encourage all of you out there who ran today, or learned something new, or helped a fellow human being, take a second to pat yourself on the back and enjoy your moment.

(#27) Disneyland Half Marathon

September 2, 2012

Wow, feels like it’s been forever since I wrote one of these entries, right? Maybe ’cause it has been!

It’s been over a month since I had a race entry in here! (A flight didn’t happen. A race got cancelled. A friend got injured before our mini-roadtrip to a trail race.)

How awesome it is to half marathon again!

As I learned in my last Disney half marathon, you’re not out to get your best time (unless you’re fast enough to be in an early corral, and never let anyone catch you – at which point, more power to you). Not fast people, such as myself, should not go to Disney with the intent to PR.

I jogged the first mile, and pretty much walked the rest of the course. I jogged bits through tight spaces in the park (whenever there was room to jog) in order to be as courteous as possible to all the runners around me. I did my best to make sure people around me who wanted to jog could do so. But I was down to walk.

As we ran through the castle, of course we came to an almost stand still. Everyone was slowing and stopping to take pictures. Then they all realized they were getting their picture taken, and stopped to pose. A bunch of people got super annoyed, huffing and puffing. Hey y’all, it’s Disney. You gotta settle down and enjoy the ride.

I’m sure the huffer puffers were new Disney runners. I don’t blame them. It’s jarring during your first Disney race, but once you learn to just chillax, the Disney races become a lot less frustrating.

We ran through California Adventure, which I’d never been to. The Toy Story soldiers yelled things at us along the lines of, “Are you the bravest? Are you the smartest? We can already see you’re not the fastest.” I thought that was pretty hilarious.

Speaking of fun things through the park – Sometimes, I’m as late to the party on things as humanly possible. I wait ’til the whole world has found something they like, it’s everywhere, everyone gets over it, and then I say, “Whoa, have you heard this new song, ‘Call Me, Maybe’?”

I don’t do it on purpose. For some reason, it doesn’t permeate my circle of pop culture until everyone else is saying, “Yes. I heard the USA Olympic Swim Team do it. I heard Jimmy Fallon do it with toy instruments. I’ve seen the memes about it with Arrested Development and Finding Nemo themes. I’m over it.”

I thought I was over it. It was a little overplayed… but I was never actually listening to it. I was only hearing about people singing it. In the park, I had no choice but to actually listen, ’cause I was on the course and all. Let me tell you, it is one catchy song. I thought the bandwagon was moving on by me. Nope. At the last minute, I leapt onto the “Call Me, Maybe” train. I ran with newfound energy as it played.

We covered Disneyland in the first few miles, then we went around some roads in Anaheim. There was dancing along the side of one. There were custom cars lining a few roads. Later, we ran through Angel’s Stadium, which was super cool. As we turned a corner, there were bunch of fans in the stands cheering. I felt famous for a hot second.

Speaking of being famous  As we were all running in, there were signs saying that if we entered we agreed that we could be used for some show. I didn’t stop to read it. I was in a half marathon. Obviously I was going to enter the stadium. So, when you see my name and likeness being used across the world in perpetuity, you know why.

There were amazing people running this race. I love hearing from first-time half-marathoners. I met a 67-year-old woman doing her first half, and a man who’d originally weighed 460 pounds. He’d lost 150 so far. He said he had more to go, but wanted to run this race to celebrate his accomplishment thus far. I saw them both in the final mile, so they were making it.

I saw Juan (the man who’d lost 150 pounds) after the finish. He was elated. It was pretty magical to see.

After the race, I grabbed my Coast to Coast medal and caught up a bit with Wendy and Marty before going home to sleep the afternoon away. On my way home, the only thing I wanted I was a delicious, juicy burger. And yet I couldn’t have one! Why, you ask? Let’s talk about it tomorrow.

Disneyland Half Marathon Expo

September 1, 2012

speech about run/walking at the Disneyland Half Marathon Expo 2012
Jeff Galloway and the sign language interpreter giving the run/walk strategy speech

As I walked around the Disneyland Half Marathon expo, I thought, “Oh no! I have seen all these things before, and I’ve signed up for most of the races that have booths here. What am I ever going to talk to the blog readers about?”

I hate to tell you that that’s not some fun intro to a “then this amazing thing happened!” turn. I have to admit, it was a pretty uneventful time.

The woman who gave me my packet was a total pro about it. She had that speech down, and could get people in and out of packet pick-up in record time. I wonder what her normal day job is, and what her dreams in life are. She is organized, smart, and quick; I hope she’s doing some awesome stuff with that.

She reminded me that I was getting my Coast to Coast medal, which was a really fun surprise; somehow, I’d completely forgot that that was happening.

There were some special screenings going on of new ABC shows. Unfortunately, I was a big doofus and got there towards the end of the expo, missing all the screening times.

I got to see a sneak peek of January’s marathon medal. Spoiler alert: It says, “All out dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.” I love that! I think it’s an excellent quote for a medal, and I can’t wait to get it.

And that’s it! You’ve heard the entire riveting half marathon expo story. We got really rad t-shirts with this race. So, yay for that!

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 11 (The “Ramping Up to the Final Evaluation” Chapter)

August 31, 2012

close up on a tiger's face on the front of Survivor's album cover for "Eye of the Tiger"Last time, we left off with my sleepover with Phil and Amber.

We stayed up until 6am. I was ready to never sleep again, but eventually, they patiently coaxed me into drifting off.

The next day, we had Chipotle together, followed by Phil and Amber dropping me off at Amanda’s house for the usual Thursday afternoon rehearsal my class had.

I was not about to let everything go down the way it did last time. One class does not one bad semester make. I practiced, then I went to yet another drop-in (which went swimmingly, thank you very much). Okay, 10 hours of improv between fateful Wednesday and hopefully better Friday. I can do this.

On Friday, I went in to class with the best attitude I could’ve possibly had. I was ready to face the day, ready for anything, determined to jump in no matter what. I literally danced down the street to school.

(That isn’t all that surprising. I dance down the street all the time – but I was truly full on dancing. People definitely thought I was crazy. Didn’t care. I was ready to take on the world! Sure enough, I somehow brought my improv world back around to not completely awful.)

Holy goodness, it might not be too late for me after all!

I had my two final classes, working as hard as I could. I faltered sometimes, but had some really strong exercises as well. Overall, I felt that things were on the upswing, even if just by a tiny margin. I convinced myself everything would probably be okay.

On the eve of our final class, a few of us went to Chipotle. Remember phenomenally talented Sean? I had been gushing about him behind his back all semester. Now that the end of class was so near, I came around from behind his back and let him know to his face that he was unbelievably helpful to me during the class.

I said that sometimes I’d been scared of certain exercises; but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, if I ended up onstage with Sean, he was going to take care of us. It’s hard to have a bad scene with him, ’cause he can save almost anything. I may have said this on here before, but he’s an amazing improv partner. He’s super funny, really smart, and he’s always trying to do anything he can to help out his partner.

Remora attached to leopard shark
Photo credit: kids.britannica.com

I thought I’d sort of been one of those little remoras, luckily glomming onto Sean and somehow swimming through the shark infested waters uneaten, just because I was attached to a strong shark (Sean). But Sean had equally complimentary things to say about me! I kid you not.

He said he always felt like I’d take care of him in a scene and give him good information he could use. What? ‘Cause I feel like a babbling idiot up there sometimes.

Now, I know I live in L.A. So, your first reaction to anything sweet or complimentary is supposed to be skepticism and cynicism. But, you know what? It seemed really genuine. And I choose to believe it was, (’cause that makes me feel good).

And aw heck. If hilarious Sean likes acting with me and thinks I’m talented, I must be golden. I think I’ve successfully turned this semester around, right? Right? Maybe?

It was time to find out. The big, huge, gigantic day came. It was Friday, June 23rd – evaluation day. Do or die.

And this is where I’ll pick up next time. 

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 21 (The “Bitter Much? (Regarding Missed Work)” Chapter)

August 29, 2012

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Last week, I was talking about school and work during this time.

School-wise, the MP&E department did everything they could to help me out.

Studio time was rescheduled. Early on, one of my professors brought me an Mbox mini so I could work from my hospital bed.

I stayed on top of the workload pretty well. At the end of the semester, I had A’s in all 3 of my MP&E classes (which was not the case in my non-MP&E classes). Let’s back-burner this until we get to the end of the semester.

As far as work was concerned, I finished out the performances of the show that closed before I had the too many beta-blockers incident.

I helped as much as I could with transitioning me out of a few other shows that were starting up as things were getting complicated with my life.

At one point, as I was sitting in the hospital, I got a phone call from a company in New York asking me to come work on another television show. I was obviously extremely upset that I couldn’t do it. I also got offered a long-term job in California that I couldn’t take. I forget if these job offers came in once the epicardial ablation was scheduled, or once the open-heart surgery was.

Either way, I had a surgery scheduled, and the job that was offered needed to start immediately. I wouldn’t have been able to take time off from a new job so soon. Alas, it could not be.

I also got some calls about some shows in Boston during the holidays. I couldn’t take them since my epicardial ablation was scheduled for December 15 – one of the biggest weeks of holiday shows. Argh.

yellow cartoon rotary telephone, with an exhausted cartoon face, ringing off the hook
My phone was ringing off the hook!
(Photo Credit: Vector.Us)

Those previous paragraphs are not to say, “Look at me. I’m awesome. I get job offers all the time!” That’s definitely not how my life usually works.

This is just to paint the picture that It was an incredibly frustrating time. I’d been working my butt off, around the clock, for as many companies as possible. I was working for free (or extremely little pay), often. Sleep was always optional.

As I’ve said before, I’m a light switch, not a dimmer. I have a pretty obsessive personality (in case you couldn’t tell). Nothing got in the way of my craziness (except finally, this).

It was endlessly disheartening that once I finally started to see the rewards of my labor – I finally started to be offered more TV jobs, and more jobs with real entry-level salaries (still not great money, but a step up from nothing!) – I was completely unable to take them.

You know what happens when you are constantly turning down work. You get bumped further down the list of the “go-to people.”

Some of you may be asking, “Wait. Weren’t you in school at the time?” Yes, I suppose so. Berklee is a school where graduating is optional (and as far as the student body is concerned, not encouraged.) At Berklee, you’re pretty much treated as a failure if you haven’t gotten enough work to get you out before school is over. (Whether that’s good or not is debatable, but I had no real interest in being in college at the time, anyway.)

Lisa Simpson meditating by a small tree in her backyard
Self reflection (at least, a tiny amount, for a hot second)

The policy (which I love) at Berklee is “once you’re in, you’re in for life.” Most of us are in no hurry to graduate.

Now, even though I was super frustrated, and this all threw a huge wrench in my life, does it really matter?

The majority of my job offers had to do with reality television. (Gross, right?) Is reality TV going to add to my life? Is it going to advance my actual career goals? No.

Will it keep me in the entertainment industry? I guess… the outskirts of it, maybe (depending on how you define “entertainment”).

Sure, it was frustrating that I was working so hard, getting “rewarded,” and unable to take those rewards. But did I actually really want them?

I was setting myself up for a life in reality television. Why would I do that? What kind of “rewards” do you get? More reality shows? What kind of life are you making for yourself?

(Sometimes that’s what happens with tunnel vision. You sprint down a path you don’t really care about because you’re running so fast, and you’re so laser-focused, that you can’t see any other options in this world.)

Ah, self-reflection time. Well, we won’t answer these questions next week. I will pick up next week talking about my epicardial ablation.

I Co-hosted a Digital Talk Radio Show

August 27, 2012

Well, hey there!

This is what I did this weekend:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VkxbNJEPwgc&w=480&h=360]

(For the first 30 seconds you see us talking, but you hear news. Don’t think you have the wrong audio. Everything’s cool. Some mute behind-the-scenes happiness just got in there at the beginning.)

Just thought I’d let you all know I co-hosted this digital talk radio show called “La La Land.” It was my first time ever doing something like that. I must say I felt pretty special since it was sort of like a podcast, and I listen to podcasts as work all the time. The people on those podcasts always seem so cool.

(Specifically, when I say the people on those podcasts are cool, I’m saying I came way late to the “Glitter in the Garbage” party. Now that I’ve found it, I love it. If you like listening to awesome rants and silly improv, you should think about loving it as well.) But enough about that. Eyes back over here. On me. Thank you.

Brett wrote me out of the blue, said he found my blog and loved it, and wondered if I’d come co-host his show. A new, different, fun experience where I get to meet new, different, fun people? Sign me up!

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 10 (The “Sobbing in Public. It Happens” Chapter)

August 26, 2012

Picking up from last time –

I was realizing as I was looking over the last post that in the future (from when the story was in real time) and in writing (as opposed to acting out the stories and showing you my sad eyes, and dramatically falling to the ground in pain and such), things don’t seem quite as terrifying as they were.

So, when you read the Groundlings posts, you really have to think about these classes as life and death here, people!

And you have to remember that I had this improv superhero teacher person who’s shooting lasers at you that are piercing through your eyes, brain, and heart. Ow, ow, ow. Lasers! So, jump into this pressure cooker with me, and feel the heat rising!

Now, back to the story.

I had finished fateful Wednesday – by far the worst class of the whole semester – and suffered through another 3 1/2 hours of improv in a drop in immediately following my class. As soon as that class was over, I was able to let all those tears out that’d been bubbling right underneath the surface.

At that moment, what I missed the very most about New York is the ability to cry in public places and have it be completely normal.

Though it might be impossible to ever choose what to miss the most about New York (I think the answer is Broadway), right then it was clear. The thing I missed the most was people being human beings around each other, because we have to. We have very little personal space, and people are used to other people crying around them.

I walked onto the subway with dead eyes and the simplest walk. I sat toward the window and faced away from everyone as much as I could. I cried so quietly. I don’t even think I made audible noises as tears silently streamed down my face. I put my hand by my face to try to cover my breakdown. I was still trying to disappear. Yet people hassled me anyway.

This one guy came up to me and said, “You look really sexy.” Okay, man, when was the last time that ever worked on a crying stranger? Ever? I mean, I guess if she’s crying because she’s been rejected, maybe her self esteem is shot and you’re getting at her when she’s vulnerable. Maybe.

Crying in public, yo. (This picture is from NYC... where it's acceptable... and the subway looks like a subway.) (Why do I have a picture of myself crying in public? I took a few for the day I left NY to blog about how heartbreaking leaving that city is. Then I had a couple of extra pictures of myself crying on the subway lying around... Might as well put one to use in this pretty appropriate spot - though I will admit, it is a little odd to take/have pictures of yourself crying.)
Crying in public, yo.
(This picture is from NYC… where it’s acceptable… and the subway looks like a subway.)
(Why do I have a picture of myself crying in public?
I took a few for the day I left NY to blog about how heartbreaking leaving that city is. Then I had a couple of extra pictures of myself crying on the subway lying around… Might as well put one to use in this pretty appropriate spot – though I will admit, it is a little odd to take/have pictures of yourself crying.)

Maybe it works for him all the time. Maybe he really was just trying to make a stranger feel better and that was the only way he knew how. I wouldn’t give him too much benefit of the doubt. The way he delivered his line, he definitely seemed to be looking out for his interests, not a stranger’s.

A sweet deaf man (who seemed to genuinely care) asked me in sign language what was wrong. I didn’t actually view him as a hassle. Though I wanted more than anything to be alone at that moment – if I have to be around people, I’ll never get frustrated at someone trying to be nice.

There are plenty of reasons to get frustrated in this life. Someone being kind to you is not one of them. Luckily, I’d retained enough sign language from my Boston days to effectively communicate with him.

I finally made it home, and that’s when Amber reminded me that Phil was coming into town that night. Oh, thank goodness. I desperately need you two.

Remember that blog post with the non-specific, floating story of the sleepover I had with Phil and Amber when you probably thought, “why is she even mentioning this?” It was that night.

Boy, oh boy did I need them more than ever. When I said I was thankful for them, I meant it.

When I said that we laughed a lot and had a great time, ’twas true. But a lot of the night was filled with me lamenting about improv. Luckily, some of it was sort of funny. Kind of. Devastating. But in a funny way. Maybe.

And this is where I’ll pick up next time.

(I’m moving on to some other things for to break up all the improv posts a little, and we’ll work our way back to this.)

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 9 (The “Someone, Please Chloroform Me, Already!” Chapter)

August 24, 2012

Excuse me while I dig myself a little hole here.

Picking up from last time  –

I was royally screwing up every scene I touched on fateful Wednesday.

At that point, I’m so done. I’m ready to dig a hole, slither into it, and never leave. Please, someone chloroform me so I don’t have to experience this for another second. I’m begging you.

It kept getting harder and harder to stand up straight while getting notes. I wanted to fold in half, melt into a puddle , then evaporate so that no one could see me anymore every time I was onstage.

When I felt how hard it was to stand up straight while receiving notes, I was catapulted back to Jordan’s class. History was repeating itself, and somehow I was powerless to stop it.

I most definitely thought about just leaving. It wasn’t enough to not be onstage. I didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity of a stage. As I sat watching everyone else’s scenes, I got smaller and smaller – my posture made my shoulders turn in my neck, and my stomach turn into my feet, and my calves turn into my thighs. Everything was collapsing closer together until I just became a little ball of a person. Please tell me you no longer can see me. In fact, don’t even say it out loud, ’cause talking to me kind of implies you can see me. Just look past me and I’ll know I’ve disappeared.

In the next exercise, Kevin seemed not to even notice that I hadn’t gone up. I almost took that as the blessing it was, just hiding out and letting class end without having to improv anymore. But alas, I knew he’d probably notice before I left. I didn’t want to get yelled at, so I drug myself up there and played “new choice.” Surprisingly, somehow I made it through without dying from it, though I was pretty sure I was going to.

Thankfully, the day eventually ended (after what seemed like about 3 1/2 years). This seems like a little like a re-telling of Jordan’s class, right? This next part is when you expect me to cry all the way home. I definitely would’ve. Instead, I had 3 1/2 more hours of improv left in my night, because I had a drop-in class up next.

I definitely considered not going. How can I possibly improv for another 3 1/2 hours?

I knew that I was strong enough, though. And if I wasn’t strong enough, I was gonna push to become that strong. Jordan told me 10 months ago to be confident. And Kevin told me the same thing last week. By golly, I’m gonna listen.

So, I went to my drop in class that night for an extra 3 1/2 hours of improv. And it actually went okay. I was still intensely holding onto my emotions from earlier, ’cause I just couldn’t let them go. But I did somehow survive 3 1/2 more hours of class without completely imploding.

And this is where I’ll pick up next time.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 20 (The “Waiting for the Epicardial Ablation” Chapter)

August 22, 2012

It’s Wednesday night, so the heart story continues.

Picking up from last week (or really picking up from 3 weeks ago since the last two weeks have kind of been just generally talking about emotions and such) –

After my ablation at Mass General didn’t work, they scheduled me to come back and have an epicardial ablation. The date was set for the moment they felt my heart would be healthy enough to take it. (It wasn’t in its strongest state due to all that burning during the failed ablation).

I still had a couple of days in the hospital after I found out I’d be back for an epicardial ablation. I spent some of that hospital-bound time looking up experiences with epicardial ablations. Not that many people were talking about it.

I was going to start that sentence with “Surprisingly,” then I realized it’s not actually that surprising. It’s a rare procedure performed to fix a rare defect. Of course there aren’t people all over the internet talking about it.

But the one guy who was talking about it, was not taking about it with any joy, or happiness, or anything good at all. Not that people are ever going to be all, “Remember that swell time I had surgery? What a lark!” (Well, they might say that if they got a rocking nose job or something. But I understand that usually, surgery is not talked about with love.)

Dum dum dum! (Scary chords.)
(Or at least, so said the blogging dude.)

And this blogging dude was not happy.

My doctors explained the epicardial ablation to me. While it did seem more serious than a normal ablation, it didn’t seem as horrific as this blogging dude was making out to be. (Spoiler alert: It was not horrific at all.)

For those of you wondering about the difference between the normal catheter ablations I’d previously had and the epicardial ablation coming up –

The good ol’ previous ablations were done in a cath lab. I wasn’t put under for them. The doctors cut a teeny hole in an area at the top inside of my leg, and threaded a catheter up a vein of mine.

The epicardial ablation is more of a surgery. I’ll go full-out under, and spend the night in the hospital. The doctors cut in through my upper abdomen and then go up with their special instruments and do their thing. (Ah yeah, things get real technical up in this blog. (That’s a joke ’cause I say things such as “special instruments” and “do their thing.”))

So, as we wait for my heart to heal enough for the epicardial ablation, let’s check in with how things have been going with work and school.

Not well. Not well is how things have been going.

Between the original diagnosis, accompanied by a week in the hospital and my first heart procedure, then problems with medicines, that ulcer, the 2nd heart procedure followed by days in the hospital trying out new medicines – I’m pretty sure I’d missed, so far, over a 3rd of the semester in a number of my classes.

And way too many of my classes in that semester relied on attendance as a fairly large part of the grade. I had some teachers who did not care one bit what the excuse was.

“My lectures are a very important part of the class. And you have missed more than three [or whatever the cutoff was]. I do not care what the excuse is. The point is, you weren’t here. I don’t care if you do your homework. I don’t know how I’ll be able to justify passing you.”

Huh. Well, okay then.

Let’s pretend that all my days off school looked like this

I was mainly taking two types of classes – Music Production & Engineering (my major), and Traditional Music classes. It was the trad music teachers who were the more traditional type teachers – the “attendance really matters,” more stuffy-type people.

At Berklee, there’s this – picture the Jets vs the Sharks dancing at each other. In this scenario; one group is the cool, hip professors (such as the ones in the MP&E department). And one is a group of professors not dancing or snapping toward the other group because it’s not “proper enough.”

That’s a thing at Berklee – not wanting to do your more traditional type classes (and relentlessly making fun of them) ’cause obviously we’re all too school for (real) school.

The MP&E department was incredibly cool about it, though.

And this is where I’ll pick up next week.

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 8 (The “Fateful Wednesday (or Class Nine)” Chapter

August 21, 2012

An “I’m driven; I’m ready” look.

Sorry, I know this blog has kind of become Groundlings Stories Central lately. We’ll continue to talk about other things too, I promise.

Picking up from last time –

I came into class 9 ready to improvise! Here I am on an upswing. Strong midterm. Strong class following the midterm. I’m gonna rock this class (puts on musical theater driven/dreamy eyes).

Or not.

At the beginning of class, we played this game – “Follow the Leaver.” (Someone in the scene gives a reason to leave, then new people jump in to start the new scene of the new place where that person is going.)

There I was, watching intently and waiting to jump in. There’s the problem. Waiting. Oh boy. Of course Kevin called me out it. (Read these next two sentences in a way that terrifies you.) “Aurora, what are you waiting for? Get in there!”

Wait a second. Where have we heard this story before? Doesn’t it sound a little familiar? Oh, that’s right. It is literally the exact same thing that happened in Jordan’s class.

I knew what had happened last time in Jordan’s class. I knew that I’d melted into a puddle of a being. Sometimes half of the battle is knowing what the challenge is, right? I’m a smart girl. I’ll shake this mistake off. I will not let that day of spiraling down further into failure with each exercise happen again.

Or I will.

I could feel the same thing happening, yet I couldn’t stop it. Somehow, I lost control of my life/mind/body for a couple of hours. I could only watch my life playing out in front of me. I couldn’t do anything to stop my awful, horrible decisions in every scene.

As I sat down from the Leaver game, desperately trying to mentally wipe that exercise off of me, Kevin called me up to go first in the next exercise. Geez to goodness, man.

All of a sudden I’m beekeeping on a hippie commune. Of course, I don’t know anything about beekeeping. Or hippie communes. I don’t know anything about anything, actually.

I know, I know, I know. When you don’t know anything about the suggestion you just make it up. Anything will do. Nothing is wrong – it’s only a new opportunity to justify why something is right.

Intellectually, I know that. In the moment, I was doing a horrible job of making things up. I got paired with Sean again. Of course, he’s brilliant and was coming up with all kinds of stuff – special gas and plants and things. I did a horrible job in the “and-ing” part of “yes, and.” I would yes him, then just kind of repeat the thing he just said. (Sorry, Sean!)

I made a lot of dumb mistakes in that scene. And I got super called out for one, specifically. I said I was going to my house. But we were in a commune. So, tent was much better. But I’m an idiot and didn’t realize that people lived in tents in communes. It is possible that that was a fact I knew and just couldn’t make a coherent thought anymore. Who knows.

As we were getting toward the end of the rotation of people doing the exercise, I realized that because of the number of people in the class that day, someone would have to go twice.

Okay then. I’ll do it. He wants confidence. At least I can volunteer to put myself on the line again. That has to count for something, right?

Well, probably not when you screw it up royally. I went up there and my scene partner was this really gorgeous, sexy girl. In the scene, my character ended up coming on to her. It just happened! I didn’t think about it. We were in a spa, playing with mud. It’s sensible.

Photo Credit: Getty Images

But, I heard people literally groan at me. Ugh. “Oh, you gonna come on to the sexy girl? How original, Aurora.” (That was the subtext of the groaning – not things people actually heckled out loud. But there was, in real life, groaning.)

I jumped into my head – no one’s ever groaned at me onstage before! I mean, I guess that’s a thing that happens with comedy. And it’s really not pleasant.

It was as though I leapt out of my body, trying to escape from class. I just stood there like a total deer in the headlights – which is what my teacher said when he called me out on it. Sorry, again. Consarn it!

This is where I’ll pick up next time.

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 7 (The “Magical Class 8” Chapter)

August 20, 2012

"look, Ma!" - a young orange haired kid with bookbag holding up A+ paper
Look, Ma! They like me. They really like me!

Last time, I left off having gotten my midterm.

I called my high school theater teacher and told her that I actually had a strong midterm evaluation. In improv. Which was pretty inconceivable to me. Yet, somehow, it did happen. I have Kevin’s evaluation notes to prove it!

I thanked her again for all she taught me. I can never in my lifetime thank her enough for everything she’s done for me. She is the greatest woman. If I grow up to be 1/2 as talented, caring, passionate, interesting, and wonderful as she is; that’d be a rad accomplishment.

I told her that Kevin could tell I’d done theater. He said I was good onstage, and that I did a great job getting emotional. Most importantly, he complimented my acting!

I was so concerned with following all the rules of improv and getting everything “right,” that I never even considered for a second that someone would say anything nice about my acting. That was a pleasant surprise – and one of the reasons I felt I had to call my high school theater teacher. I reiterated that that would’ve never happened without her classes. She gave me the base for anything I ever do that is any good at all.

As per usual, she was a supportive sweetheart. She made me promise to call her right after the final. Done and done.

Our midterm was given in class 7 (of 12). The following class (class 8), we had a substitute – Guy, actually (the teacher I kind of, almost had when I sort of, almost took Basic for the first time).

Class 8 was super fun, and went incredibly well. To say the class went “incredibly well” is maybe even an understatement. Everyone was putting gems on the stage. It was easily my best class of the semester.

A classmate of mine leapt to his feet in a standing ovation after one of my scenes! Ah, laughter, applause, love. What an excellent day!

Almost as a sign to help me know I wasn’t dreaming, arguably the most talented girl in our class (who’d easily been doing the best throughout the semester) came up to me at the end. She said, “You were on fire today.”

I think it’s pretty safe to say class was just like this.
(Photo Credit: TheaterThoughts.com)

I did my silly, exaggerated “oh well, you know” face and gestures – doing that thing where you play puff your hair. She ignored my silliness, looked me in the eyes, and very genuinely and seriously said, “No, really. You were on fire. You’re hilarious. Be this free when Kevin comes back. You’re killing it.”

To know that this sweet, incredibly funny person (who was definitely going to (and easily did) pass) really thought that I was funny – it made me feel even better about the day, class in general, and myself, even. She made me feel better about everything!

I practically skipped all the way home. I gleefully called my dad. “Daddy, daddy! I might be able to improvise after all! I made people laugh today!” I think my dad was as pleasantly surprised as I was. (He’s definitely not used to getting the “improv is going so great!” phone calls. He’s more used to the “I should’ve done this, this, and that!” phone calls.)

Of course, let’s not all pretend as though I’m some comic genius here. It didn’t hurt the magical-ness of the day that I got paired with Sean – this utterly hilarious boy in my class. He is freaking masterful. Let’s give some credit where credit is due here, right?

Sean does everything in his power to make everybody on stage look great. He listens with laser focus.  He’s an exceptional scene partner – always on your side, giving you great things to go off of, always hilarious, quick, smart – all that great stuff.

All right. We did it! We all made it out alive through the class after midterms. And it was a successful day! Plus, it’s Friday! I get to live in this feeling of feeling good about myself for 4 more entire days until I have class again. Rock on!

(In case you were wondering, I did (of course) still have thoughts about what I could’ve done better in each exercise that day. But, I have so few victories in improv, that on that day, I kept pushing those voices out of my head. I didn’t want to beat myself up until I learned the day wasn’t good after all. I just want to accept a win, and happily sigh and skip down the street.)

Only have 4 classes left in the semester! What could possibly go wrong?

Find out next time when we talk about (scary chords) class 9.

I’m Gonna Say It; I Like The Rock ‘n’ Roll Series

August 17, 2012

With Rock ‘n’ Roll Providence coming up this weekend, I thought I’d take a minute to say that even though it gets hated on a lot, I like the Rock ‘n’ Roll series.

I’m not gonna pretend like I never hate on it a little. I’ve had my various complaints about certain races. But overall, I love them.

I love the huge expos. I love the great courses through fun cities. I love being surrounded by tens of thousands of runners. I like that when you do a Rock ‘n’ Roll race, it’s truly an event – not just a run.

Sometimes, I feel as though I must be weird for liking them, ’cause the Rock ‘n’ Roll races get totally blasted by some people. I used to think that one of these days I’d have that race that ruined the series for me. My eyes would be opened, and I’d jump on the “right” bandwagon (or at least the loudest).

I’ve run 8 Rock ‘n’ Roll races this year. I think that’s enough to judge. It’s not all roses and rainbows. It is incredibly annoying and inconvenient that they say you must pick up your packet the day before – with no mailing or race-day pickup options. (Really, I think they are the ones missing out on money here with fees they could charge for those things.)

However, since I’ve learned that you actually can pick up your packet on race day at the Solutions table, my only big complaint about the series has been taken away.

So, there you have it. I am taking the stance that I like the Rock ‘n’ Roll series. I don’t care how much social media I read hating on it. Unless something drastically changes at a number of future races, I like the Rock ‘n’ Roll series a lot. Hpmh.

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 6 (The “Starting My Second Time Through” Chapter)

August 16, 2012

The cartoon version of my idea of Kevin Berntson
This is sort of how I picture Kevin (minus the handing out ribbons part). This isn’t necessarily what he looks like, just kind of the idea of him.
(Photo Credit: Vectorcharacters.net)

Last time, I left off saying that my new teacher was Kevin.

From the moment I walked in the room, I knew it was going to be a great semester. Kevin had been a sub for Jordan once, and I remembered him being phenomenal.

Kevin is one is the most genuinely nice people I’ve met in Los Angeles. He seems to be from another world. He’s too nice and fun-loving for this one.

Kevin is extra not-LA. He’s like this old-timey ball of energy from the 1920s. Even though he’s not an old guy, he has this old-timey feel, see.

I think if you’ve ever had Kevin, you have a “Kevin impersonation.” Ask any one of us who’ve had him to do our impersonation. We’ll try to help you get an idea of him.

Kevin has these rays of energy that shoot from his eyes and his jazz hands. (I don’t know that I’ve ever actually seen him do jazz hands, but I do them in my Kevin impersonation.) He’s kind of like this superhero that teaches improv. No matter how incredibly nice he is, he can be terrifying.

(I’m sure that when a superhero is saving you from a burning building – no matter how kind and nice he is, and how much he is there to help you – his energy and intensity can still scare the living daylights out of you. (Kevin has laser eyes!))

Kevin will keep you on your toes without putting you down. Depending on the type of person you are (ex. me), you may have a bit of a breakdown at some point. (What’s life without breakdowns though, right?)

He pushes you as hard as he can to make you better. He notices every single thing – and calls you out for each one of them. It’s all done from a loving place, though. Kevin seems to truly care about every student he has. He wants to see every student be the best improviser she or he can be.

Kevin and his somewhat scary (but awesome) superhero-ness Credit: DC Comics
Kevin and his somewhat scary (but awesome) superhero-ness Credit: DC Comics

After all the months away from improv, I regressed back to the high schooler who had no idea what she was doing. (Granted, there wasn’t much regressing to be done, considering that’s how I ended my time in Jordan’s class.) When the midterm rolled around, I expected Kevin to rip me a new one.

(Dramatic pause.) He didn’t.

I hurried in the room and breathed out, as I sat in the chair across from him. I looked up at him, leaning forward with scared, attentive eyes.

He said I was fun to watch onstage.

What universe am I in right now?

And he said he thought I had great acting chops.

Boom, baby!

He had his notes for me, for sure. Mainly, confidence. (Sound familiar? Like, oh, I don’t know – the same note I got from Jordan? Oh boy.)

As our super short conversation was winding to a close, he said, “Sometimes people psych themselves out in the second half after a strong midterm evaluation, but I’m sure that won’t happen to you.”

Ha!

It’s funny ’cause it’s probable.

Did it happen? Find out more next time.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 19 (Stop Being Nice to Me, Consarn It!)

August 15, 2012

Angry dad lion from The Lion King yelling in Scar's face.
Rargh! This place is not for you! I will banish everyone from my hospital room. (Photo credit: Disney)

It’s Wednesday night, so this series continues.

Picking up from last week –

I was pretty much complaining (When am I not, right?) – talking about how I would not accept almost any friendly or loving gestures from anyone. ‘Cause I was so needlessly stubborn, and all.

“Hey world, you’re not allowed to just be nice to me. You have to be nice to me for the right reasons. And the right reasons do not include the fact that I’m sick. Call me when I’m out of the hospital, yo!”

Yes, it was stubborn. Yes, it was a bit silly. And yes, I am exaggerating my attitude a little for the sake of the story. I wasn’t quite so in people’s faces about it as I’m making it out to be. (Or, maybe I was…) But, I seriously was asking (begging, pleading with) people not to come visit me.

And I still can’t promise I’d be any different now. The hospital is an uncomfortable place to have visitors. When you live your life trying to be cool, and trying constantly “win” (by doing great projects, getting accepted to things, and on and on), you have absolutely nothing to offer anyone who comes to visit you.

“How was your day?” “Well, um, a nurse brought in my breakfast tray. Then Law and Order was on twelve times in a row…”

Of course, there’s always something to talk about. Funny things happened with my new hospital friends. And I worked on scripts that I was happy to blabber on about. But still. Hopefully you kind of get what I’m saying.

Back to my classmate who offered to come play Monopoly with me –

If you asked me at any other time in my life (including now) if you could come over and play board games with me, about 99% of the time, I would say yes. (I adore board games.)

cartoon monopoly man (with white mustache) holding onto a cane and tipping hat toward us
(Credit: Parker Brothers)

But when I was in the hospital, I was saying no more than ever. Even though I desperately wanted to play Monopoly (as the opportunity doesn’t seem come up often as a grown-up), I told Caleb, “nu uh.”

Let me tell you, if people are offering to play board games with you, it’s possible that you should go ahead and do it.

(I know we’ve already established that faced with the same situation now, I would quite possibly be too stubborn (even still). But it might not be the best choice.)

Chances are, once you join the ranks of society again, people will no longer have all this time to throw at you. It doesn’t mean you’re less cool or they’re less thoughtful. It’s just an unfortunate part of life.

Going back to the beginning of last week’s post, and how I was trying to keep my illness (ew, sounds weird to be phrased like that, right? [*Puts hand on forehead in big sweeping gesture, and in damsel-in-distress-southern accent says, “my illness”*]) under wraps – I didn’t touch on the obvious question that comes out of that. Why is someone who is shouting her story from the rooftops on a blog so uptight about sharing the fact that she’s sick with anybody in her life?

At this point, years later, I’m writing a memory.

At the time, I was weak. I was confined to the hospital. My life was spiraling out of control. Who wants to share that? “Uh, hey guys! I had to quit my job. I’m failing out of a couple of classes. I’m getting bloated fat and gross (oh my), hanging out in the same room all day, day after day after day. Check me out!”

Granted, things still aren’t completely the same. I have yet to lose the rest of the weight that I gained, or pay off the rest of my debt that I incurred. My life is still affected by my heart problem, but my life is no longer run by it.

We’ll continue on next week.

Halfway There

August 14, 2012

Bon Jovi performing
Whoa, we’re halfway there!
(Photo credit: NJ.com)

In case you didn’t notice, I completed race #26, which means I’m halfway done with my challenge! Yee haw!

I’m gonna save any main conclusions and reflecting ideas for the end of the year. But I thought I’d check in and say what a 6 months it’s been!

Oh my gosh, when I think about running that half marathon on crutches, or driving to the Grand Canyon on a whim, or taking the bus over to New Orleans from Orlando just because, you know, they’re pretty close together, so why not – it makes me happy.

My dad’s first half marathon, being led to a PR by super cool strangers in Kentucky, meeting an insanely cool group of runners in San Diego, being surprised at the finish of the Hollywood Half by some amazing friends, David Petrick himself meeting me at the finish in Washington DC, vacationing with Wendy, Marty, Barbara, and Becky – and Becky’s lovely compliment time(!), my first bike ride ever (and meeting Jeanette and Jo), extending my east coast trip over and over and over again ’cause I could not bring myself to leave New York, all the amazing theater I’ve seen this year (and running into Jason Michael Snow himself on the street(!)) – all of it, everything. What a 6 months!

I don’t want to recap too much, or harp on how amazing everything has been too much, because I’ll do that at the end. If the next 6 months are even half as good as these I’ve been, I think I’m in for a lot of fun!

Your body holding up okay?
(Photo Credit: Glennz Tees)

For those of you who’ve asked how my body’s holding up – I don’t want to speak too soon, but so far, I feel great!

I will admit that I always feel better when my diet is better, and when I do yoga during the week. (I don’t love yoga, but I know it’s really good for me.)

I will also freely admit that since I’ve started a normal day job, I don’t make as much time during the week for exercise as I used to. And I don’t eat as well as I did. There’s no great excuse. There’s always a way to plan for good eating and plan for exercise.

But yeah, overall I feel great. I just need to be a bit better to myself and I’ll feel even better than I already do.

To those who’ve asked about what my goals are for the next 6 months – I want to continue to have great experiences with great people. I’ve been so lucky to come across the most fun people over these past 6 months. I would also love if I could convince some of my non-running friends to run with me.

I’d love to raise some money for Broadway Impact (the charity for which I’m super stoked to be running). Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hammer people over the head with my fundraising page, and have my whole blog revolve around “Hey you! Give money. Rargh, rargh, rargh” But, raising money (without driving people crazy) is a goal I have in the second half.

So, there you have it. Just checking in, saying yay. I am overjoyed by reminiscing over these incredibly cool six months.

Thank you so much to all of you who’ve been a part of it in any way shape or form – throwing me a plane ticket or a hotel room, running with me, saying hi at a race, writing me an email saying you’ve been inspired to keep running – you have no idea how much that means to me. The idea that I am touching other people’s lives is crazy! (And awesome.)

To everyone out there who’s following my adventures, know that I appreciate you. Thanks for everything!

Scheduling 52 Half Marathons in 52 Weeks – Part 3 (Keeping It All Organized…)

August 12, 2012

Yesterday, I left off with races getting cancelled.

It’s happened at a couple of points during the year. And it very well might happen again before the year is over.

I don’t need to call out any other specific races on the blog. The point is, rolling with the punches when races are cancelled (especially when they are part of a series), is one of the hardest parts of scheduling the 52 in 52.

Now that I’m done with all the ranting and opinion-y stuff, let’s get down the details that someone was actually asking about – how do I keep it all straight?

First off, I have an email address dedicated purely to running stuff – mailing lists I’m on, registration receipts, things along those lines. That has helped immensely. There’s a surprising amount of emails you get when running 52 half marathons in 52 weeks.

If you’ve ever run one race, think about all the emails that came along with that – reminders at times throughout the years about signing up friends, and deals, and things; reminders as the race gets closer about packet pick-up instructions, and things of that nature; emails after the race telling you congratulations, and that the results are up; and emails when the pictures come out.

Then there are those reminder emails that you should really go buy some pictures, plus reminders to sign up for next year or more races in their series. Now multiply that by 52 races.

For those of you who haven’t run a race before, don’t be worried. I’m making it sound like a lot, but individual races don’t bombard you with too many emails (or at least I don’t think so).

The emails keep you informed and excited and proud of your accomplishment afterward. But it seems like a lot when it’s coming from 52 races. So, the dedicated email address has been extremely helpful.

I also keep a color-coded calendar (using iCal on my Mac) that shows the races for which I’ve already registered, and the races I plan on doing, but haven’t registered for yet.

I set it up so that once I’m registered, I put the start time in, and it looks like any other appointment. When I haven’t registered, I mark it as an “all-day event” which puts it in an oval as a reminder to me to register. Sometimes I put extra choices on certain days in case a race doesn’t work out for some reason. Then, in a different color, I’ve set alarms for price increases and things like that.

The color-coding on my calendar for registered vs. plan on doing, but haven’t yet registered.

This is kind of an anti-climactic post. I didn’t realize until I wrote it that it’s really simple –

1) Find races through various websites and word of mouth.
2) Mark my calendar in different colors to know the difference between tentatively happening and almost certainly happening (and between registered and not registered).
3) Have one dedicated email account to keep it all organized. Boom.

I will admit that I’ve done more traveling than I anticipated, so eventually I made a dedicated email for travel.

I’m also surprised at how hard it’s been to keep all the pictures straight! Pictures don’t come out until a few days after a race is over. Oftentimes it’s cheaper to get pictures mailed than to download them. (Who knows why.) By the time a picture comes in the mail, I’ve moved on by a couple races.

And I never come home and immediately organize all the pictures in my phone, which would be the smartest thing to do. There are pictures from different sources, floating around in different places. A mess.

Plus, many times I put off getting the professional pictures, ’cause I wait for the steep discounts that come around later. So, keeping all of that straight can be hard, but obviously pictures are last on my priority list. As long as I can keep the races and the travel straight, I’m good. (And keeping those two things straight is hard enough.)

The organizing question is somewhat linked to the money question that I’ve gotten a fair amount of times at this point. How I’ve been able to afford all of this? And that is a post in the queue that I promise to get around to!

Scheduling 52 Half Marathons in 52 Weeks – Part 2 (Sometimes Races are Cancelled or Moved)

August 11, 2012

I left off yesterday talking about how sometimes races get cancelled.

For instance, I was supposed to be doing a race with The Hometown Race Series this morning. I suppose I’m about to start a mini-rant on them. (You know how much I love my rants.)

Before I do that, let me preface this by saying that so far, I’ve done one race with them. And I loved it. Every staff member and volunteer on their team, that I’ve ever communicated with, has been sweet and awesome. And The Hometown Race Series has the coolest bonus medal of any race series I’ve seen so far – it’s 13.1 inches long!

That’s what makes it that much more upsetting when it gets more and more complicated to complete their series! In order to get the special medal, I need to finish three of their races in the year.

First, I ran their Havasu Half Marathon (which was awesome). Then, I was planning on running their California Half Marathon later in the year. (My third one was (and continues to be) the Arizona Half Marathon in Goodyear on October 6. Let’s really hope that nothing happens to that one.)

The California Half was moved to 2013. Well, okay. That makes things harder, but not impossible. There is one in Nevada the day before the Columbus Half Marathon. That kind of sucks. Now that I’m working, and can’t just gallivant around anymore, I’d love to at least spend the whole weekend with my family and friends – instead of having to rush into town late the night before, and leave right after the race.

The Nevada Half is my last resort option, but at least it exists. There was also the option of this “Big Money Run” in August. The time limit is 3 hours, so I’d really be pushing it. But, it’d be conceivably possible if I could get a bit faster.

Cut to: Me on the computer a few days ago – as my life for the next 6 months is becoming clearer as far as work, and school, and things are concerned; I was cleaning out the schedule, trying to decide what I really could and couldn’t do/did and didn’t want to do. Sure enough, I see the “Vista Half Marathon” up on the Hometown Race Series schedule. That’s fabulous!

It fell on a day that I didn’t have a race, and was coming up soon (August 11th). Let’s do it. Let’s get this second race in this series out of the way. Not only would it eliminate the stress I’d put on myself with a 3-hour cutoff in the Big Money Run, it would give me get an extra day in Ohio with my friends and family (by letting me avoid the Nevada Half).

I registered immediately.

An email came not even a week later saying they’ve cancelled the race! Bummer.

Then, I go to read about the Big Money Run to see how strict that 3-hour cutoff really looks. Lo and behold, the Big Money Run had actually been transitioned into being the Vista Half Marathon (which was the one that just got cancelled). Now I’m down to my only choice being the Nevada Half Marathon the day before Columbus.

It’s really not that big of a deal. I’m over it already. I obviously see my family all the time. Just since this blog started, I’ve already seen my dad 4 times! He visited me out here in January. I stopped by and saw him in March, on my tour of the east coast. I ran his first half marathon with him in May. Then, I flew to Ohio so he could be at my first full marathon in June. So, I’ve see him a lot. A ton in fact.

Hopefully I’ll see pretty much everybody I know in Ohio on race day. If I can convince everyone to join in on the 13.1-mile party, I’ll get a few hours with a number of people I love. So, that’s the real hope.

I’m definitely not meaning to be hating on the Hometown Race Series. They put on great races. They’re sweethearts over there. I’m sure it is incredibly hard to shut down parts of a city for a race. I can imagine all the logistics that go into putting on a running event. Hats off to them that they keep trying to give us events that we’re gonna love.

But, it’s still a bummer when those events don’t happen. (And IO Events (the parent company) has “MyFirst” – a cool program for first time runners. I’m sure it’s even more of a bummer when you sign up for your first race ever and it doesn’t happen…)

This is not the only series that has cancelled or moved events – which is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

Scheduling 52 Half Marathons in 52 Weeks – Part 1 (Planning)

August 10, 2012

square of Calendar from April/MayPeople have been asking me to post on this subject, and I’m happy to (finally) do it.

Toward the beginning of this adventure, I spent a few full days doing basically nothing but researching and scheduling. As the year progressed, things changed here and there. So, inevitably, at later points in the year, I spent a number of hours (or more full days sometimes) continuing to work on the schedule.

Early on, one of the things that made it a little hard (and a whole lotta fun) was that I was between shows. So, I never had to come home.

In February and March, I kept traveling around the east coast, often pretty much flying by the seat of my pants. I was ready to go home at a moment’s notice if a job came up, but I was absolutely reveling in the (I couldn’t come up with the right word here – imagine me with a big, genuine and truly joyous smile, happily sighing) of it all.

Working freelance, in my opinion, has more positives than negatives. However, there is one big negative – it is often next to impossible to make concrete plans for anything in the somewhat distant future.

“Will I be working weekends in three months?” “Will I get a job in Vegas, or Miami or [insert any city here]?” “Will I actually get another job that will allow me to afford to do things I love/am planning on doing?” So many unknown answers – until you’re in the future.

I had a good guess that I’d most likely get a job in L.A., and that I’d probably be working a pretty normal 5-day-week in post-production. But, I couldn’t know for sure.

I set up the schedule with the assumption that that’s what would happen. I put in some extra traveling in case I was back on hiatus. But, I had California races on the back burner in case I was working.

Turns out that now, from the future of then, I am working a nice, normal day job (that I have all the way until the beginning of January), after all. So, from here until January, I know where I’m working, and can plan the rest of everything with a lot more information available to me.

It’s nice when you get long term jobs like this, and you can actually commit to things when people ask you to make plans months in advance. Guess what, baby? I know my schedule for November. I can, in fact, tell you whether we can hang out on Thanksgiving. Bam!

Back to race planning – I utilize the Running in the USA website a lot. That’s a great place to start. From there, I found some various race series, and started working those in. If I’m going to do 52 races in one year, I might as well get those extra medals, right?

Then, I’ve heard about a bunch of races through expos, friends, email lists I get onto, and things like that. So, that helps to inform and change the schedule as well.

One of the things that made schedule finagling fun is that some series are flexible. For example, in the Rock ‘n’ Roll series, I think there are about 25 options. Their top level of run-repeater does 10 races. You only have to find 10 that work in your schedule. Then you can discard 15 that get in the way of other runs.

Then there are series with definitive races that you do or you don’t. For example, the Beach Cities series has 3 consecutive races (one in February, May, and October). You could start at any time in the last 2-ish years, but once you start you have to do them consecutively.

Sometimes there’s wiggle room. Sometimes there’s not. And trying to figure all that out got fun and puzzle-y.

So, you compare a bunch of calendars, try to synch up races with your schedule, and schedules of various series. You do your best to plan travel in a way that makes sense for you.

Then, once you hope you have it all basically figured out – a race gets cancelled. This is the hardest part of planning 52 half marathons in 52 weeks.

There are some half marathons that you can bet won’t get cancelled. If you sign up to do the Indianapolis 500 Festival, it’s happening. But, if you sign up for a small and/or new race, it might not.

This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 18 (I Was a Pain in the Butt to Many People)

August 8, 2012

Get Well Soon balloon with a bear in a little cast with a thermometer
(Photo credit: RedEarthFlowers.com)

It’s Wednesday, so this series continues.

Picking up from last week –

A fair number of people around my life didn’t know I was sick. I tried to keep it pretty well under wraps (for the most part).

(Remember, this is back in 2009. I didn’t have Facebook, or Twitter, or anything… Ah, the simpler times…)

But even though I was trying to keep it somewhat hush hush – once your teachers know, students know. Of course it also ends up getting around to everyone at work (and my dad’s work). My being sick became this information that was spreading like a virus.

I did not know how to deal with worried caring being thrust upon me. Stephen and my lovely high school theater teacher were really the only two people who could kind of calm me enough into being willing to be cared for.

Maybe it’s a little hasty to say only those two – I did have a couple of really great phone conversations with some close friends from high school. But, usually I was doing my best to push people away. It was a weird time.

On the one hand, I had a lot of time to kill in the hops. (I got a ton of writing done! There are few better places to write a musical than in the hospital.) But, because it’s the social norm to have visitors, there was a part of me that wanted a little visitor time to fill some of those hours upon hours of hanging out in a room.

However, my desire to not have visitors far outweighed my desire to have them. I had SO many people around me all the time. I was already overwhelmed between the doctors, nurses, other patients, and the super kind family (visiting one of my hospital roommates) who brought me ice cream and magazines. I couldn’t handle having any more friends on top of that!

I remember I kind of blew up a little at one of my professors when he encouraged a girl from my class to come see me. (I was not friends with this girl.) And I got angry. “Why are people talking about me? Why are people sharing the details of my hospital stays? Everybody leave me alone, already!” When I heard she was coming, I felt panicked. I thought, “I’m trapped! I can’t just make an excuse and leave!” (In the end, she didn’t visit after all.)

Classic Monopoly board (looks a little dirty, even)
Mmm board games (Photo Credit: BeyondInjury.com/Parker Bros. game)

There was a sweet guy in one of my classes who offered to come play board games with me. (I adore board games!)

As people kept offering to visit, it made me so annoyed how much attention was being paid to me while I was sick. (How completely ungrateful and horrible am I?)

Part of the reason I was annoyed was – Why don’t we ever make time for each other and play board games just because we’re friends? Why don’t we ever celebrate people, and tell them how much they’re loved, purely because we love them?

(This is totally aimed at me as well – not just out at the world.)

When I was in the hospital, I had an insane number of people looking out for me. I was being completely cared for 24/7. And I had cable! And internet! (Two things I did not have in my apartment.) I was fine. I was more than fine. I was living in a complete world full of interesting characters.

The hospital is the only place I can think of where I don’t need extra love.

I need love all the time. (Life is hard!) I need love after I get rejected from a writing program, or after I have an awful improv class, or when a great job ends and I can’t find another one. I need love just by sheer virtue of living in California. But I don’t need love for being ill.

Yet, we as humans usually don’t do the greatest job of loving people just because, or really being there for them over the small things.

Sometimes people would say, “Oh, well, being in the hospital outranks any tiny problems I have.” No it doesn’t. Whenever my friends would feel as though they couldn’t complain to me because I was going through something “real” – I found that to be a little silly.

Being sick is no more “real” than having a bad haircut, or breaking a pair of sunglasses, or moving to a different place, or any problem at all. A problem is real if it’s real for the person going through the problem.

And this is where I’ll pick up next week.

Why I Chose to Run for Marriage Equality – Part 2

August 7, 2012

Photo credit: http://www.stephanerocherphotography.co.uk

Picking up from part 1 –

People say that the word “marriage” is a religious word, and it’s very important to keep it that way. Does that mean we should ban atheists from getting married?

A man and a woman who just met could get married in SoCal today – as long as they had $56 for a marriage license. They wouldn’t have to fill out a questionnaire about whether they believe in God, or recite Bible verses, or anything of that sort. They’d be asked to show their IDs, and hand over $56.

Yet, if two religious women (or two religious men) asked for the exact same thing, they couldn’t have it.

That’s why the argument of marriage being so sacred because it’s religious, doesn’t make sense to me. The fictional atheist strangers got hitched immediately. The fictional religious gay couples got turned away. (They may have been fictional characters in a very underdeveloped story, but it’s a real thing that could happen.)

Different people interpret the Bible differently. Some believe you can be gay and be a Christian. Some don’t… I am really spiraling down a dark hole reading things on the internet. I thought wading through papers and websites and things would help me formulate more thoughts or ideas. Mainly, it’s all just making me more frustrated, and a little more confused about what people are fighting over.

(And wading through way too many websites is frying my brain, making me trip over all my words and thoughts. Sorry I’m getting a bit discombobulated here.)

I came across this video as I was reading different points of views, and it really made me sad.

Of course it’s up to each individual if he or she wants to believe in heaven or hell. (I am so not here to debate religion. I am here to talk about what’s legal and illegal in the United States.)

Each individual obviously gets to have his or her own belief on how you’d get into heaven and avoid hell. Hell (and who ostensibly goes there) is not something that can be proven. So, it’s people’s prerogative to guess who’d go there. However, if they are going to believe in hell – and I’m guessing they think it’s a pretty awful place – is it right for them to get excited about fellow human beings going there? If they’re preaching love and compassion for others, should they be giddy that fellow human beings are going to burn for eternity?

Most importantly, should they be encouraging a young child to feel that much hate in his heart?

As the song says, children are our future.
(Photo Credit: BroadwayImpact.com)

Which brings me to, I suppose, what my main point is. Marriage equality is the beginning.

It’s the beginning of making the LGBT community equal in every way. We’ve heard and seen the reports on bullying, and the heartbreaking stories of people taking their own lives.

It’s painful to know that so many people feel they have to live a life as someone they’re not. How incredibly hard would it be to constantly have to be somebody else?

As long as people are discriminated against based on their sexuality – I will fight for equality. To me, it’s not about getting married. It’s about members of the LGBT community being accepted in every place in society – in every city, in every business, in every job interview – everywhere.

We are all human beings. There’s no reason to treat another human being as less than another one – especially not for something as trivial as the gender of the partner they choose to stick with them through this life.

Life is hard enough without the pain and exhaustion of reconciling hateful views of other people with a part of who you are – a part of you that you live with day in and day out.

Because this topic makes me so emotional, I get worried that sometimes my words fail me. I wish I were more eloquent. I may not be able to have all the answers or phrase things perfectly, but I can run for you. I can sing and dance for you. I can work to raise as much money for Broadway Impact as possible.

With that money, people who have more influence than I do, and who have action plans, and who are more eloquent than I am, can go and change things. And I will be immensely proud to be any part of that at all – even if it’s a small part.

If you’d like to donate, it would mean a great deal to me. Click here to go to my fundraising page. If you want to help, but can’t donate at this time, feel free to spread the link around!

Thank you!

Why I Chose to Run for Marriage Equality – Part 1

August 6, 2012

Woot! Raising money for charity, yo!

I’ve realized this post is more “Why I Believe in Marriage Equality” as opposed to “Why I Chose to Run for It.” To find out why 52 half marathons in 52 weeks and how marriage equality fits into that – go here.

As you saw yesterday, I added a charity to a running adventure!

I am unbelievably excited to be raising money for Broadway Impact throughout the rest of my 52 half marathons.

To visit my fundraising page, please click here!

I’m singing, dancing, adventuring, and more to help earn money.  So, if you want to be serenaded, if you want a pacer in a race, if you want someone to climb a mountain with you – please go to my page and let’s work together to get this organization as much money as we can!

To read more about Broadway Impact, and the awesome work they’re doing for marriage equality, you can check out their website here.

In the near-ish future, I’ll sprinkle in posts here and there on why I chose to add a charity, and how I got started with Broadway Impact. Tonight I want to get to the biggest thing – why I chose to run for marriage equality.

I suppose this choice is somewhat controversial, since obviously not everyone believes in marriage equality (or else, we’d already have it). I’ll start by saying – I’m not here to fight. I’m not here to yell. I’m not here to bully people about my beliefs.

I’m just really pumped to be able to use my running adventure to help an organization that I really believe in.

(I think it’s somewhat likely that I will lose some blog followers over my beliefs, but I’d rather do good than do well.)

It’s been pointed out to me that I apologize a lot on this blog – for posting a blurry picture, for doing something that makes me look stupid, for going on a rant, or complaining about something. But my belief in marriage equality is one thing that comes without apology.

Some of you may be wondering why someone who doesn’t really believe in marriage at all wants to make her main stance be one for same-sex marriage.

Because I believe in equality.

I’ve sat at my computer for a while now, staring at the screen, writing down thoughts, starting over, writing more thoughts, researching various same-sex related issues, and on and on.

I don’t know exactly what to say.

What I want to say is that I don’t understand how we don’t already have marriage equality. I cannot wrap my mind around it. But, I don’t want to use loaded language or back anyone into a corner. Just because I cannot fully understand does not mean I’m not listening. I’m listening. I’m listening to people quote Bible verses and make arguments. Sometimes I get emotional. That may not surprise you by a girl who cries over torn pants (obviously this is on a level much deeper than pants).

It’s so easy to do this – la, la, la. I can’t hear you!

Part of the reason why it’s so easy to fight or yell or turn off our ears to others is because the issue can make people so emotional. I am emotional when I think about friends of mine being denied the 1,400 rights that come with being married. (That’s a whole lot of rights.)

It’s easy for conversations to ramp up quite quickly. While reading and reading, doing research for this post, trying to see if statistics or essays could help me to better formulate my words, I came upon a website called ChristianAnswers.net. Among other things, it says, “Less than 5% of gays have ever had a relationship that lasted 3 years or more.” No citations.

At first, I spent some time here elaborating on knowing plenty of same-sex couples who’ve been together for more than 3 years, and knowing plenty of straight people who’ve never had a relationship that lasted longer than 3 years (I haven’t), and asking why this would be a fact that even matters. But, this whole 3 years thing is not what we’re all getting hung up on, so I’m gonna try to quiet my over-talking and move on.

The author of the article was saying a lot of hateful (and untrue) things. If he had been talking to me in person, it would’ve been easy for automatic responses to take over. It would’ve been human to want to yell and scream (and maybe toss a table over as though I were a “Real Housewife of Beverly Hills” or something).

The Family Research Council uses the word “monogamous” in quotation marks when it refers to homosexual couples in a “report” on it’s website.

It’s really important for me to remember that when I ask other people to be tolerant, I need to be tolerant as well. I have to listen. I have to learn as many facts as I can, because that is the only way I can ever fight to win.

Photo credit: HRC.org

Sometimes, it’s very painful to listen to people who are against same-sex marriage, but I’ve got to listen. I’ve got to know what I’m fighting against.

Onto said fight –

One of the things I see brought up the most about same-sex marriage:

Q: Why isn’t a civil union good enough?

My answer: When has separate but equal ever been good enough?

And this is where I’ll pick up in one minute.

Thank You Options for Your Donations to Broadway Impact

August 5, 2012

Edited to add: Hey y’all! I’m still fundraising for various races, but this 2012 idea has timed out. So, I’m no longer offering these things… But if you really want something, write me and we’ll see if we can work it out! 🙂

In case you didn’t come here from my fundraising page, here’s a link to it: Click me!

And in case you haven’t heard, I’m running for charity, yo!

I am unbelievably excited about running for Broadway Impact. More on that in tomorrow’s blog post. For now, let me tell you what I’m offering* as my way to say thanks for your donations:

(Skip down below these fun things for answers to some questions.)

$20 donation – Personalized thank you card. In the mail and everything.

$30 donation – Thank you video. (Don’t get too excited – no fancy editing and action sequences, just me talking. (There will possibly be jokes or character voices. We’ll see.))

$49 donation – Iʼll serenade you with a song!
Whatever song you want – pop, musical theater, jazz, rock, rap, whatever. You name it, Iʼll do it. Iʼll even perform it for you up to 5 times, and you can give me notes in between (or shout them at me mid-song!) on how youʼd like it to be different (either guiding me to the performance you want, or just playing around for fun. Example: “This time do it as though youʼre being born at the beginning of the song and you age throughout, and at the end you die.” “Now do it while crumping!” “Now do it as a robot!” “Now a sexy robot.” and on and on). (Duets accepted for sure, if youʼd rather sing together.)

(Donate enough for 4 songs, I’ll throw in a 5th one for fun.)

$99 donation – Iʼll learn a dance for you.
My gymnastics are non-existent, and my tap dancing is sub-par. But, I will estimate choreography as best as I can for you to any song. If we canʼt find the choreography anywhere, Iʼm happy to make it up with/for you. Again, Iʼll perform the song up to 5 times taking whatever notes you want to give. In case you want to see an example, click here to watch the time I learned the Single Ladies dance for a class I was in.

(Donate enough for 4 songs, I’ll throw in a 5th one for fun.)

$108 donation – I will pace you in a half marathon.
Now, in case you havenʼt seen, Iʼm mighty slow. So, this is really only for people who want to finish in about 3 1/2 – 4 hours. But if you just want to have someone there to make sure that you donʼt quit and that youʼre entertained, well, then Iʼm your girl. Whatever you want – trivia at every mile, jokes, stories – you want it, you got it.

$129 donation – Song and dance.
Separately or together. If you want me to break out a song and dance to “I Canʼt Do It Alone” from Chicago, Iʼm in. If you want me to belt out a ballad from Dreamgirls, then dance to a Britney Spears song, you got it. Again, whatever songs you pick, you get ʻem up to 5 times with whatever notes you want to give me.

(Donate enough for 4 songs, I’ll throw in a 5th one for fun.)

$250 donation – We get to spend the day together!
Wanna climb a mountain, or take a road trip, or karaoke all day? Wanna sit around and watch the entire series of Seinfeld? Wanna eat Chipotle, then catch a movie at Graumanʼs? All day at Disneyland, maybe? Do you want me to just come over and do your laundry and vacuum? I am up for almost any adventure you want to have – but I donʼt pet animals (or hang out anywhere close to dogs), and I canʼt swim.

$495 donation – I will act out an entire musical for (or with) you.
Want to see me play every part in The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee? Do you want me to recreate my performance (only better (hopefully)) of Tell Me On A Sunday – that one person Andrew Lloyd Webber musical I did in high school? Want me to play Cathy and you can play Jamie in The Last 5 Years? Whatever part(s) of whatever musicals you want me to see act out in your living room – Iʼm in.

*If somehow people start throwing money at me, I may discontinue certain things, change prices on certain things, or start other things. So, this list is subject to change.

Question Section:

1) Where do you come perform these things for me?

Wherever you want, pretty much. Your living room, your backyard, my living room, the park, wherever.

2) What if I donʼt live in California?

Well, Iʼm on the east coast all the time. So, if youʼre in New York or DC, or anywhere around there, weʼre cool. Iʼm also doing a fair amount of traveling for my 52 half marathons in 52 weeks. So, if Iʼm coming to your state, Iʼll perform for you then. I also visit the midwest a fair amount to see my family, so if youʼre in Ohio, or any of the neighboring states, weʼre cool.
If youʼre not visiting any of the places Iʼve mentioned, and Iʼm not visiting the state where you live, thereʼs always Skype!

3) Can I pool my money with my friends and have 10 of us sit around my den and watch you act out The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in itʼs entirety?

Sure! Why not?

4) So, Aurora I feel weird asking you to come over and do a song for me, because I am not friends with you, and youʼre not famous. Youʼre just some girl and I stumbled across this fundraising page on the world wide web.

Please, donʼt feel weird! I love meeting strangers. I love becoming better friends with acquaintances. I love getting hassled by my current friends. Whoever you are – whether Iʼve met you once, a million times, or never – I would be absolutely delighted to perform for you, or run with you, or spend the day with you.

5) Um, who do you think you are? Selling time with you and your performances? Do you think youʼre as talented as Jason Michael Snow or something?

Nope. Definitely not. (Golly, I adore Jason Michael Snow. Iʼd make a donation to get him to serenade me, for sure!) The only skills I have to offer are performing and hanging out skills. I canʼt fix a car, or paint a picture, or do a whole lot of other things. But I can sing and dance for you. Iʼve had some requests from various friends over the last couple of years to perform for them more often. So, here is everyoneʼs chance to make me perform as much as they want!

Got more questions?

Great, email me. Thanks so much for reading!

“My First Half Marathon” – Vicky

August 2, 2012

This past weekend, my friend Vicky did her first half marathon with me. I asked if she would share her experience in the form of a guest blog. Graciously, she agreed to write one. Take it away, Vicky!

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Aurora and Vicky running Vicky's first half marathon - side viewI’ve always wanted to run a half a marathon. It’s always been on my bucket list. However I always found some reason or another to put it off.

I ran cross country all four years in high school, and by the time college came along I found myself burnt out on running. I struggled for the last few years to gain back that passion I always had in high school.

So fast forward to this summer. I’m now a senior in college and I’m out in L.A. for a summer internship. While in L.A. I decided to make the most of my short time and take improv classes at The Groundlings. Improv is something that has also been of interest to me, and on the first day of class, I was excited to not only learn improv, but meet some awesome people in the process. One girl in particular I know really stood out to me. Here was a girl in “I Love New York” pajama bottoms and a sweet “Bad” cap. Upon meeting her, I discovered she was one of the kindest, sweetest, and most enthusiastic people I have ever have had the pleasure to know. As I’m sure you all know, this girl was Aurora.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aurora and I became friends. She was always encouraging me to me to run a half marathon with her, and I must say I was tempted, but I always found some excuse.

First of all, I don’t really run much nowadays. Don’t get me wrong, I’d been going to the gym very faithfully this whole summer and would get on the treadmill a few times, but mostly I stuck to the elliptical machine and weight training. The most I ran the whole summer was three miles, and the idea of 10 ten additional miles seemed overwhelming, so I continued to find excuses not to.

So finally, this last Friday night, I saw Aurora had posted a request on facebook for someone to join her in Long Beach the next day (Saturday). For once, I didn’t have any real excuse not to. I knew it would mean a lot to Aurora, so hesitantly I responded. Aurora replied ever so enthusiastically that the race started at 6:30. My first though was: “In the morning?!” Ick! I am not a morning person, ask anyone who knows me. Now I really did not want to do it. However I knew I had already got Aurora’s hopes up, and I would feel bad backing out now. Besides, with only a week left in L.A. this would be my last chance to run with my friend. All right, “I’ll do it.” I thought.

Aurora and Vicky running into the finish at a half marathon in Long Beach 2012So the night before the race I had a dinner of champions: a barbeque tri tip sandwich, mac and cheese, and a whole container of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. Yep. Who needs Wheaties. I finished watching the opening ceremonies and then headed off to bed around midnight. 5 a.m. came way too soon. I was quickly regretting this last minute decision. However I made a commitment. At 5:30 a.m. I got into my car and began the drive to Long Beach.

At around 6:00 a.m. I picked Aurora up at the station and together we drove the last 3 miles to the race. By the time we parked and got to the starting line, it was time to begin. Before I knew it, we were off and running. Over the course of the race Aurora and I had many great conversations. I couldn’t believe how fast the race went. I guess that’s what happens when you put two people in a race who love to talk. When we finally crossed the finish line, I was so glad I made the decision to say yes. It turned out to be much easier than I ever expected, not to mention a lot more fun. It was a great experience and a great way to spend my last Saturday in L.A.

So thank you Aurora for not only the invite, but the many laughs and smiles we shared along the way.

And I want to highly encourage anyone who has ever thought about running a half a marathon to say yes to that opportunity. And if you are in need of a great running partner, I heard Aurora might be up for a few more this year. 

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Aurora’s response: Thank you for such a sweet, funny entry (and for running with me)!

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 17 (I Didn’t Necessarily Tell My Dad That I Was In The Hospital Again)

August 1, 2012

Aurora rolling her eyes hard
Unfortunately, I don’t have any pictures available of me being super bratty as a child. So, here’s a facial expression to try to give the same tone. 🙂

It’s Wednesday night, so this series continues.

Picking up from last week – I didn’t tell my dad that doctors were going into my heart again.

Oh goodness. How do I tell this part of the story without sounding selfish or spoiled or any bad adjectives? Well, I don’t know. Maybe I will sound like those things… I was hard to deal with when I was in the hospital.

My parents seemed to be overly nervous about the whole thing, so it was easier to keep them in the dark as much as possible – although, it was also hard to do that.

My dad and I have a tendency to talk every day – which becomes harder when you’re in the hospital with beeping machines everywhere, yet you don’t want your dad to know that you are in said hospital.

Obviously, I love my dad so much. But, some parents feel a need to protect their kids just a little too much. Last time he dropped everything and came out to Boston – for nothing. I didn’t want him to feel pressured to miss work again. And I certainly didn’t want him sending anyone in his place.

You should meet my grandma – she’s a big ball of worry. I love her to pieces, but she is the worst person to have around you if you want to zen out. “Boston is dangerous. Working in entertainment is dangerous. Illness is dangerous. Everything is dangerous.”

My dad was not happy when he found out I was back in the hospital and neglected to let him know. But, I think he maybe got over it…

He didn’t have enough time to get up to Massachusetts once he did find out. No need to freak out, I’m obviously totally fine (as I knew I would be). Everything worked out for everybody, is how I like to think about it. (I like to talk about it nonchalantly, because I don’t want to allow myself to think that I actually hurt my dad’s feelings.)

How exactly did my dad find out, you ask? Well, I had to have some kind of proxy person on the off-chance something went wrong. I called one of my great friends whom I’ve known since childhood, and asked if he’d be my person. He said yes.

Then instead of just being my person, he called my dad and narked on me! (He’s like a son to my dad, so I understand his allegiance. But still!)

I had the test/ablation on Friday, November 6. And I was let out of the hospital on, I’m pretty sure, the 11th. I think the extra days were because the doctors started me on a medicine, and wanted to give my heart another test on the 10th to see how it was reacting to said medicine.

I think I had a number of tests that week. I don’t remember which tests I had, or when they all took place, but I definitely remember running on treadmills at Mass Gen, and just generally having my heart looked at from every which way at some point, in some week. The doctors were gonna be sure not to miss a thing.

Speaking of tests – I think it was during this hospital stint that it happened.

So, they put me on beta-blockers. After a few days of the nurses coming and watching me as I took my medicine (since we all know how much I hate medicine), a doctor put me on a treadmill. And I pushed.

The doctor said we could stop, but I would not have it! I could definitely run faster than the piddly speed at which they had me. Suddenly, I was sitting on the treadmill, and someone was helping me up. Apparently I had a pre-syncopal episode.

I have no recollection of the treadmill stopping or my falling over. I just remember the lesson that if I took my medicine, I absolutely could not jog the way I used to. My body would abort the mission if my heart got to a certain (not very high) speed. I think the doctors knew that I never would’ve trusted that on faith alone, so they showed me. Touché, doctors.

I’ll elaborate about the big pain in the butt I was to my friends and family, while I was in the hospital, next week.

The Bus Ride Home from San Francisco

July 31, 2012

The post about The San Francisco 2nd Half Marathon is finished, but I thought I’d also throw in a post about the trip home.

After the race was over, I picked up my chocolate milk and a banana, and walked back to the Greyhound bus station. There was a bus leaving in about 20 minutes (and not another one for about 4 hours), so I wanted to jump on this next one!

I got to the bus station, and went straight on a bus. Surprisingly (and wonderfully) it wasn’t all that crowded. I got the whole little two-seater row all to myself. P-pow. I fell asleep the moment we started moving. I woke up about an hour and a half later, and I realized that it maybe wasn’t the smartest idea to walk straight from a finish line of a race to a bus where I’d sit for the next 8 or so hours. I was woefully under-prepared. (I feel as though that’s a theme in many of the stories I tell. Maybe someday I’ll learn how to think ahead. Maybe)

I started to feel like Elaine in that Seinfeld episode where she gets stuck on the train. As I looked out the window of the bus, thinking about how cranky, cramped, and crazy hungry I get on those long bus rides – I saw a sign for an exit that had a Carl’s Jr. I thought about how amazing it would be if we could just pull off at that exit.

I am so hungry! And I have to use the bathroom. (And I don’t want to go to the one on this bus!) (And I want to stretch in a bigger area than my seat or the aisle. I want so many things!) Wah, wah, wah.

The bus started getting off at the exit. “Are we honestly getting off an an exit? Are we stopping? What’s happening? Please, please, please be stopping at Carl’s Jr.,” I screamed in my head. We started to turn in that direction. Sure enough, the bus parked for a 30-minute break! I’m gonna go ahead and say that I willed it happen.

I then proceeded to order every single thing on the Carl’s Jr. menu. That’s an exaggeration. But I did get some chili cheese fries. I’d been craving them forever, and they’re the most delicious thing in all of California. (Sorry, New Yorkers! That’s one thing we’ve got that you don’t! Bam!)

I stretched out in the enormous parking lot, used the restroom (not in the parking lot), got some amazing food (and tons of water, plus some snacks from the gas station in case I got hungry later). I got back on the bus and settled in. I was full, content, and prepared for the ride. Good times.

(#26) Wipro San Francisco 2nd Half Marathon – Part 2 (Letting Loose)

July 30, 2012

Picking up from yesterday –

I was talking about how cool and fun the runners are in San Francisco. Remember that episode of Friends where Phoebe runs as though no one is watching? A girl passed me who was running like that. It was amazing. Even when the runners were talking to the spectators, they did it with such enthusiasm. (Spectator: “Great job!” Runner: “Thank you, baby!”)

Speaking of the spectators, they were amazing and full of energy too. There was this adorable guy with a baby face who was cheering for people by name as we went by. (Our names were on our bib.) He said, “Aurora, very nice job today,” with all the sweetness and sincerity that he would’ve if he were someone who knew me and really cared about me. Thank you so much, stranger.

There was also this fun group of 3 people sitting on a little balcony/roof-type area blasting Gansta’s Paradise – and rapping along. It was amazing. I cheered for them, then rapped along as I went on by. Later, I went by a house that was blasting the entirety of of a Michael Jackson concert. (I want to say it was the Live in Bucharest: The Dangerous Tour concert, but I’m not sure.) It was the full audio from a live performance – the transitions, the remixes, Michael’s talking parts to the audience, the audience cheering. Excellent, right?

Keep spending most our life living in a Gangsta’s Paradise…

There were so many great supporters. There was a group of guys giving high fives. I danced on up to them, full of energy. They clapped for me. and danced along as well. “You go, girl! Werk!” That was too fun. There was a super enthusiastic group from Strava cheering everyone on. There was a volunteer at a corner who bowed to people as we went by. “I’m not worthy! I’m so proud of you!” Operation Access had a table where they gave us free cupcakes! (The cupcakes were delicious.)

Some other things of note about the race: About 5 or 6 miles in to the 2nd half marathon, we passed right by the finish of the 1st half – right next to it. So, that was fun.

There were various turnarounds here and there. The 5-mile sign was facing the wrong direction, so we all saw the mile marker 5 not long at all after our first 5k was done. (We weren’t actually supposed to see it until after the whole next loop.) We all started looking around at each other, confused. “Hey, I know we’re having the time of our lives out here and everything, but I’m pretty sure 1.9 miles didn’t go that quickly…”

I enjoyed all the turnarounds. It was fun to see runners in different directions and all around you – as though we were in a fun maze or something.

In other funny things: There’s often unofficial beer at races. At this race, a man at a water stop was saying, “We got water, then Gatorade back there, and beer right behind it.” Hilarious, no? We also ran by a huge stadium apparently right before a game – and all these people were tailgating. There were hot dogs and hamburgers everywhere. It was a tease. We still had a couple of miles ahead of us.

I loved this view.

There was an area where a lot of cross streets were still partially open to traffic, so I got an excellent workout as I made a game out of sprinting through every one right before the police would open it back up to traffic.

When I got to the end, I saw the marathoners get a humongous medal. We got one about 1/4 of the size. I understand that they did double the distance. But, really? The difference between the medals was comical. I almost kind of thought it might be a joke. It wasn’t.

Either way, I still appreciated my medal – which was placed on me by a handsome member of the Coast Guard, in uniform.

What a race! I had an absolute blast. I think it’s a great event that’s run well. I loved the vibe and the city. I’d be happy to come back next year.

(#26) Wipro San Francisco 2nd Half Marathon – Part 1 (Getting to the Start)

July 29, 2012

“2nd half marathon? What does that mean,” you may be asking.

Well, you could choose to run the full or the half (not unlike other races) – but when choosing to run the half, you could pick between the 1st half and the 2nd half. Interesting, right? I was intrigued. I imagine a good amount of extra planning goes into this event with two separate start and finish lines, but it’s a great way to encourage people to repeat this race. They have all sorts of programs to encourage repeaters – The “Half if All Challenge” (1st and 2nd half marathons (in either order) on consecutive years), the “52 Club” (for people who’ve done 52.4 miles over 3 years – both halves followed by the full), and more. Smart, SF Marathon. Smart.

I chose the 2nd half because there was a more relaxed time limit, and I heard the 2nd half’s course was less difficult. (What a lazy sentence I just wrote, huh?) I loved the 2nd half. (And I would love to rock the 1st half next year.)

I started the morning by rolling off of the Greyhound bus around 5am. I freshened up a little in the Greyhound station’s bathroom, then made my way to the race.

I have a couple of rotating outfits that I like to run in, but I’ve been getting less persnickety about the whole thing as the year goes on. Right before leaving my apartment for San Fran, I just grabbed the last clean outfit I had and thought, “this’ll do.”

Conveniently, the start line/shuttle bus stop to the 2nd half was only blocks away from the Greyhound station. I walked on down, picked up my bib, and got on the shuttle bus. (There was a shuttle that took you from the start of the race to the start of the 2nd half.)

While sitting on the shuttle, I overheard a number of interesting conversations. I heard a woman say that she hadn’t done a full marathon in years and wasn’t sure if she could do another one or not at this point. Of course, I piped up. “Whoever just said they donʼt know if they could now or not – you could. You can do anything if you believe you can.” Iʼm so obnoxious, right? But she looked at me and smiled. Everyone around us smiled, and we all became friends. So, it was all good.

There was this super cool man on the bus named Dana who had a hilarious story about being an “ultra-half-marathoner,” which was his best way to succinctly explain getting totally lost on the course and doing extra miles. He also was talking about training for a Half Ironman! I was happy to have him perking us all up and brightening out mornings.

Once the bus got to the start of the 2nd half, we had a good amount of time to kill before we all started. Little groups formed around standing heaters. I met some people doing their first race, and some people who race all the time. I met someone from London who had flown all the way to California for this race! (It was her birthday celebration.)

I felt a bit bad, because I love meeting new people, but I’m pretty sure I was not giving off quite as much energy and love as I like to. At some points I was basically falling asleep standing up with my eyes open. (However, I knew once the race started, I’d be into it. Of course, that doesn’t help the new friends I met by the heaters… Oh well.)

Eventually, some full marathoners started passing by, and we lined up in our corrals. Before you know it, we were off!

I love San Francisco, and I love the runners there. You know how I’m always talking about my dance running and dance walking? Tons of people do it here! I saw lots of people jamming out as they ran by. I used to feel kind of foolish, thinking I probably looked like an idiot when I was rocking out, but everyone looked cool. We all knew what they were doing. It wasn’t odd or out of place. They just looked comfortable in being silly and they looked like they were having loads of fun. Power to you, dance runners!

And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

(#25) Seashore Half Marathon

July 28, 2012

My friend Vicky’s summer in LA is over in less than a week! That made it all that much more special that I got to spend this morning with her. We’ve both gotten pretty busy over the past few weeks, and I’d forgotten how much fun we have when we’re together.

Having her run with me gave me extra motivation to get up and go to this race (for which I had not yet registered). I saw a lot of great shows this week, which is wonderful. But it also means that I didn’t get tons of sleep. (What’s new, right?) It would’ve been so easy to sleep in, but not when someone is counting on me to go run with her! People make a huge difference in life.

I usually love big, huge races. I like spectators, bands, making friends with strangers – all that jazz. Today’s race was super low-key. There were only about 50 people and it was along an open bike path in Long Beach. (The route was the same as my Fun in the Sun Half Marathon July 8th.)

Sometimes people associate “low-key” races with being poorly run, or really cheap (cheap in the sub-par quality sense, not the inexpensive sense). However, low-key here just means it’s not a big, speakers-blaring, bright, spectacle-filled 13.1-mile dance party. It’s more like a smaller 13.1-mile cocktail party – still a party, still allows you to spend time with great people, still has food and drink. It has everything you need. It’s very fun in its own, different way.

To me, having a running buddy in a race like this makes all the difference in the world. If you’re running alone in a huge race (such as a Rock ‘n’ Roll event, or a big city marathon), there’s enough going on to keep you entertained throughout. If you’re on a bike path in Long Beach, it is scenic, and it’s nice to have time alone with your thoughts every once in a while. But the 13 miles can start to feel a little long.

I couldn’t believe how quickly the day moved with Vicky! It didn’t even feel like a half marathon. It just felt like a lovely morning with a friend. I was amazed at how much we had to talk about, but I probably shouldn’t have been. We’re two pretty talkative girls who have strong opinions on a number of things. We agree on a lot, and we disagree on certain things that aren’t serious enough to actually get upset about (example: our favorite actors, and what kind of acting styles we prefer). But we’re passionate enough about those topics to let the debates rage on. That keeps the conversation flowing for miles.

By 7 miles in, we hadn’t even scratched the surface of all our conversation topics of the day – and we were already over halfway done! I could’ve easily made it a full marathon and gone another 13.1 miles with her. (They wouldn’t have been fast miles, but they would’ve been fun.)

Speaking of not being fast, Vicky was kind, and slowed her pace so that I could keep up. (She’s definitely way more of an athlete than I am.) (Just so we know that I’m not always the one that’s taking – When her foot starting bothering her a little once we got into double-digit miles, I slowed for her. So, you know, friendship, taking turns, all that good stuff.)

When we got to the finish, Mark and Michelle – the co-race directors – were there with our medals, and a super stocked table of snacks and drinks. Mark and Michelle have such wonderful attitudes that just radiate from them. They seem excited about runners, running, and life in general.

I never thought I’d be a person who likes “low-key” events. (And trust me, I don’t like all of them.) But, I do really like Rocket Racing Productions, and am so down to continue to do more races with them in the future.

This was a gorgeous day. The scenery was really pretty – especially this little section on a boardwalk where we looked out and saw this sparkling water. It was an excellent morning.

Sadly, I won’t get to see her again for a long time, but obviously with the internet and cell phones, we’ll still get to argue over which actors are funnier.

Even though this wasn’t saying goodbye, I couldn’t have thought of a better way to say so long for now, than to run this race with her.

Flying Trapeze (June 2012’s Something New) – Part 2 (Oof. I Pretty Much Failed At This)

July 26, 2012

Aurora De Lucia prepping for flying trapeze back view Picking up from Tuesday –

“Okay, Aurora. This time, really use the momentum to get your feet over the bar. Jump off like you’re a banana. Make a banana shape in the air, then whip your feet around when we tell you to.”

“Gotcha. Sounds simple enough. I’m all about it.”

Or not. They yell for me to flip my feet over, and it’s not happening. My arms are barely holding on, and my abs are no help whatsoever in swinging my legs around. Goodness gracious. I jump down into the net again, followed by another flip back onto solid ground.

Jaclyn was getting the hang of it much better than I was. By the end of the day, she was able to swing into the arms of a staff member who got on the opposite trapeze and flew toward her! Not me. I never even get my own feet over the bar!

In between turns, I had little practice sessions with staff members, simulating from the ground what the jump would be like. They told me to picture going through a basketball hoop, so that I’d have a nice, tight, controlled jump. My attempts to replicate these ideas in the air never worked out as well as my brilliant practice hops on the ground.

Also, I think it’s possible that we all might be underestimating precisely how little arm strength I have. It was surprisingly tiring just to swing around in the air for a minute a few times. By my 4th and final turn, I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to hold onto the bar long enough to jump off of the platform. My arms were so tired.

But I pushed myself to do it anyway. I’ve been trying lately to push myself a little father than I think I can go, in most things that I do. (Even if it doesn’t work out great, I have that satisfaction of giving that extra little umph.)

On that 4th try, I did in fact hold onto the bar long enough to swing through the air. But I was panicking with my dead arms the whole time.

There was an “I Can’t” bucket that you were supposed to put a dollar in every time you said “I can’t.” Thank goodness it wasn’t enforced, or I’d be poor now. From the moment I jumped off of the platform that 4th time to the moment I landed in the net – “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”

Speaking of penalties they had – in case you’re wondering why my whole face is exposed to the elements in all of the pictures – you weren’t allowed to wear a hat or sunglasses while trapezing. (Yes, I still know it’s not a word. I’m using it anyway.)

The official phrasing of their rule was if you wore a hat or sunglasses, you had to buy everyone a drink (which might’ve been worth it for the protection from the sun). However, the real rule was you couldn’t fly if you were wearing your hat and sunglasses.

(Don’t worry. I layered sunscreen and put my hat on between turns.) My forehead was pretty safe.

Overall, I had a blast trying flying trapeze with Jaclyn. Sure, I failed pretty miserably. But, my teacher in a different (non-trapeze) class said something great this past Saturday – he said you want to go for A’s and F’s. You don’t learn a lot from C’s. If you swing huge and miss huge – having a big ol’ failure in the process – you’ll probably learn and grow (and give yourself a chance for a huge success). But if you just get by – well, then you just get by.

So, I failed at being graceful and flying into someone’s arms. But I loved flying (and spending time with such a sweet, fun friend). And at some point, I’m coming back to flying trapeze with a vengeance (after hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of push-ups)!

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 16 (Beginning of My Time at Massachusetts General)

July 25, 2012

Exterior of a big glass building at Mass General Hosptial
One exterior view of Mass Gen (Photo credit: AIA.org)

It’s Wednesday, so this series continues.

Last week, I left off being admitted to Mass Gen.

Mass Gen has a different vibe than Tufts. I think Tufts is a smaller hospital – it definitely felt smaller.

At Tufts, we were all BFFs, dancing to Michael Jackson, and laughing, and joking. Tufts was like a fancy vacation – room service, entertainment, and all that jazz.

Mass Gen was like a hospital – an amazing hospital, for sure, but still a hospital. I’m not trying to insinuate that people were any less nice or pleasant at Mass General than they were at Tufts. It’s just that playtime was over.

Also, there were actual pre-planned meal times. Room service was no more.

But as far as my heart goes – which is I suppose the most important part, right? – I couldn’t have asked for better care.

The doctors were thorough, brilliant, and focused on getting me cured – all that good stuff.

Even though I ended up at Mass Gen basically through idiocy, it was probably the best thing that could’ve happened. Had I been more responsible, I imagine months of trying to get an appointment for a second opinion, plus follow-up appointments, and communicating between two hospitals… Aye, aye, aye.

But, boom. Off a didn’t-seem-too-smart-at-the-time decision, in one morning I became a patient at Mass Gen. The doctors fiercely look out for you there, as if you’re their own child.

They decided to do their own ablation/EP study to test my accessory pathway to see how fast it can conduct um, the electricity through my heart? Is electricity the right word? Anyway, conduction, accessory pathway, EP study.

At Tufts, I got a lot more of that medicine that kind of takes you out of the situation. At Mass Gen, I was somewhat alert. I was still in and out, but this ablation was far clearer.

I vaguely remember talking to people in the room about avocados. (They brought ’em up, not me, in case you’re wondering.) And I remember my chest literally thumping up and down uncontrollably at some point. It was so weird. I could see and feel it happening, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it or change it.

The doctors didn’t let that thumping go on all that long. I heard them talking to each other, and they put a pretty quick stop it.

As far as the test part – at Tufts, you may remember, my number was right around the line between dangerous and not. At Mass Gen, my number was over the line, into the danger zone.

They explained this difference at Mass Gen by saying tests can have slightly different outcomes based on the day, the person performing it, and all that biznatch.

Also, the amount of that take-you-out medicine stuff matters – the more you have, the lower the threshold for how fast your heart will beat when stressed by the doctors.

(I think I’m getting the gist of the explanation. I hope there aren’t a bunch of doctors out there reading my blog, exclaiming “She has no idea what she’s talking about!” Obviously, I’m just a patient, and I’m writing this close to three years after the fact. This story is, of course, colored by my memory and experiences. I’m trying to get it as correct as possible (and I think/hope I’m doing a pretty fine job…))

I’m pretty sure I had the test the day after I got admitted, so I knew it was coming. But I still didn’t give a warning to my dad. We’ll get into that next week.

Flying Trapeze (June 2012’s Something New) – Part 1 (Gah! I Can’t Seem To Get Me Legs Up)

July 24, 2012

A story from about a month ago. How timely, right?

I meant to talk about this back close to my actual birthday, but I got so distracted ranting and raving that I didn’t get a chance to make it to this – until now.

Every year for my birthday, I do something that I’ve never done before. I’ve only been doing this for three years. For the past two, I’ve procrastinated figuring out the new thing until the last minute.

This year, my lovely friend Jaclyn and I tried the flying trapeze. (I wanted to say “tried trapezing,” but apparently that’s not a word. Is that only weird to me, or did we all already know that “trapezing” is not a word?)

Jaclyn and I ventured down to the Santa Monica Pier, ready to fly at the Trapeze School New York. (Yes, that’s what it’s called, even though we were in California. And yes, having “New York” in the title immediately made me trust the school more.) Everyone who worked there was unbelievably sweet and helpful.

Here’s a thing about flying trapeze – I think you need upper body strength to really be successful. Some people believe that you don’t need it, thinking it’s maybe more about momentum and smarts.

But I’m gonna have to go ahead and say that your upper body plays a part. First off, your arms have to be able to hold your body weight as it all hangs and flies around. Secondly, even though momentum is helping you, your core plays a large part in swinging your legs up over your head.

Sometimes, I jump into something thinking, “Meh. It’s open to anyone. Lots of people do it. I’m sure I can totally do it too.” (Some of these things include that time I entered a bike race before learning how to ride a bike… and this time I went trapezing (I really want it to be a word!) without thinking about the fact that I have no upper body strength whatsoever. It honestly did not dawn on me until I got up to the top of the ladder and saw the bar that I thought, “I’m going to have to hold my own body weight in the air. Oh goodness.”

I get to the top and grab the bar. I put on my super serious/professional face. Sometimes when I have no idea what I’m doing, I just act like someone who probably knows what she’s doing.

Today I’d be a girl who’d been participating in flying trapeze (she doesn’t say trapezing, ’cause she knows it’s not a word) for years. She’s an expert, and she’s ready to go.

That girl lasted a good 5 seconds as I prepped to jump. Then they started calling out those ready and hup commands, and I was all, “oh, I have no idea what I’m doing! [*breathes heavily*].” I jumped off the platform and swung through the air. That was pretty incredibly cool. Then the instructor shouted, “Okay, swing your feet up.”

Yeah, that didn’t work out at all. I just kept swinging in the air a couple of times, until it was time to jump down. Once I safely fell to the net at the bottom, I thought the hard part was over. No. You still had to flip off of the net!

 The instructor said, “Slide to the edge of the net, and put your stomach over the side. Grab these handles, then flip over.”

What? This is how we get down? Gymnastics? Oh goodness.

Somehow, I survived the flip off of the net. Before you knew it, it was time to go up all over again.

I’ll pick up here on Thursday.

 

 

[ps – A note on this day. My secret shame is that this occurred on June 26th, not June 25th (my actual birthday). [*gasp, music, dramatic looks*] I hate to admit it. But I can’t escape it.

The reason is, I could either go alone on the 25th or with my friend on the 26th. Not only did I want to experience this with Jaclyn, but I live really far from Santa Monica and was just exhausted after a weekend of traveling and half marathons. I knew going with someone would be easier on me (not to mention a bit more fun). Obviously (as is shown over and over in this blog), I don’t mind doing stuff alone… It just worked out this way this year.

I justified it this way: “When I was born on the 25th, it was the 26th in certain places in the world. So 26th/25th, it’s all the same. I also think it’s lame when people put such time constraints on themselves, they miss out on cool things. So I didn’t want to be a stickler when I could go with a friend the very next day.

Hoooowever, the whole point of the June 25th thing is to go out and live and do something fun an exciting on a sad day – the anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death and a day you’re getting older (therefore generally less valuable in Hollywood – ah, the joys of being a woman!). I’m supposed to do it on the day! And I think I just lost a little sight of that. So, I’m embarrassed to have messed up the tradition by 12 or so hours. But I shan’t do it again! (As at least this year showed me how important it is to me to do it on the actual 25th – whether that’s super silly/kinda stupid or not. :-P)

(#24) Run Montecito-Summerland – Part 3 (Mile 7 to the Finish)

July 23, 2012

Picking up from yesterday –

I was jamming out to amazing music.

(And I was maybe being a little too thankful about life. I know that the general rule of the internet seems to be that you can complain as much as you want, but you can only be so thankful. I don’t know if this is because people don’t find it to be genuine, or if it’s because people don’t like to feel that other people are bragging. But I definitely feel weird being all, (in a tone that mocks myself) “Oh, I’m so thankful! How great is life?”

No one hassled me or commented or stopped following or anything, but I still felt weird. And how weird is it to feel weird about being thankful? Oh, society. Or my brain. Or a mix. Whatever. Moving on…)

Right around mile 7, I got into a chase with Kathleen and Meagan. I had slowed down a good amount, and they had sped up. I heard them running after me. I turned around and yelled, “You guys!” Then I ran. If it was a race they were after, they were going to get one!

This happened a few more times over the next few miles. I’d get far enough ahead to chill out, then after a while see them coming out of nowhere. I was able to keep my lead ’til the end. Or course, when you run out too far ahead of people in a small race, you get to the point where you’re alone in neighborhoods.

I heard some dogs barking behind some really tall bushes. Are they behind a fence? If they’re not, are the bushes dense enough that they can’t get through? Is a dog going to bite my Achilles tendon in half today? Do I run away from here as fast as I can, or do I pretend to play dead?

I ended up surviving without being chased by dogs. But, boy, I think I need a brave running buddy.

As I forged on, I met a nice group of people out for a walk in their neighborhood. As I passed this one man, and said good morning; he said he didn’t usually like being passed, but he’d allow it. I told him, “Well, I am in a half marathon.” “Oh, so that’s the event going on today,” he said. (There were signs and cones out and around.) I said there were still two people behind me, and he said I better get a move on – and that he’d distract my competitors when they showed up. Well, thank you, stranger.

There weren’t mile markers at the event – there would just be update signs at various aid stations that said things such as “.9 miles,” “5.67 miles,” etc. When I got to the next aid station, I didn’t see one of those signs, but assumed I was probably somewhere around mile 8 1/2 ish. The people working the station said “Only 2.7 miles left. And it’s downhill and flat from here.” What? I’ve already done over 10 miles? Awesome!

Psych.

My understanding was that there were only 2.7 miles from where we were at the start. However, there was an extra little circle (in an uphill place) to make the full 13.1 miles (since we did not go out a dill 6.65 before turning around). When you are told you only have 2.7 miles left, but you really have more like 4.3, it’s a huge bummer. Races are mind games, y’all!

Finally, I came upon a spot where the volunteer at the aid station said there truly was only downhill and flat left to go, and she was right. I made my way through my final mile, to be greeted by Joel and a group of lovely strangers at the finish line. Joel and I then jumped in the car so we could make it back for work and school.

I have been trying (often unsuccessfully) to encourage more people to do half marathons with me – ’cause I think they’re fun and magical and all. And I forgot, until I talked to Joel, that the easiest way to get someone stoked about running is to get them to go watch the finish line of a distance running event. He was so ready to sign up for one immediately after the half was over. He told me with wide eyes and inspired voice how amazing it was to see everyone filled with so much joy as they crossed the finish line.

He’s ready to lead us all in signing up for the LA Marathon. And I can’t wait.

(#24) Run Montecito-Summerland – Part 2 (Fighting To Be Not-Last)

July 22, 2012

Picking up from yesterday –

I napped in the car for about an hour until it was time to line up to start. I jumped out of car/bed about 5 minutes before the race began. I have an amazing ability (read: irresponsibly tendency to never hydrate enough) to never have to go to the bathroom. But, I’ve been getting thirstier during races, so I made a real effort today to drink a lot of water beforehand.

Sure enough, I had to use the bathroom, but didn’t give myself enough time to do it. Oh well. Like we always used to say in high school when someone didn’t give themselves enough time to pee before a performance, “Use that having-to-pee energy – focus it into making your performance better.” (Sorry for using the word “pee” on the blog. I feel as though that’s kind of a weird word, right? Yuck.

I didn’t realize how small the field was going to be today.  My main goal for this race became to just to not come in last. I lightly jogged the beginning. I was around 4 other women (2 different pairs) toward the back.

Every time the pair of women behind me sped up, I’d speed up just enough to stay in front of them. I already felt like a jerk for doing that, but I was wearing my shirt with my blog url on the back. So, if it’s not bad enough that I kept speeding up based on their pace, they could see my name the whole time. (And possibly curse it under their breath. Who knows?)

I happened upon the first water station before the first mile was even up. I thought that was pretty cool of this race to put one so early.

About 2 something miles in, I saw a gas station, ran in and used the bathroom, then ran back out. It turns out that the women who probably hated me had been doing the 10k, so they had turned off onto a different path. The other pair of women were somewhat far ahead of me. But they were still in my sight. So I ran. I’m not talking about the word “running” that I throw around pretty loosely when really I’m just jogging. I took off.

And I caught them. I was pretty winded and my heart was thumping, but I caught them!
We had a lovely conversation. Kathleen is doing a half marathon every month! And Meagan was doing her first half! Eventually, I ran ahead. I wanted to stop intruding on their time together (and I wanted to pushing myself a little harder for part of the race).

I pumped up the jams and jogged away. Songs from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee came on first. I always get excited when a song from that show comes on shuffle – It’s my favorite musical of all time. Hands down. I’ve seen it 21 times, but would’ve been happy to have see it 2,100. Jesse Tyler Ferguson is possibly the most talented actor in the universe.

Then, “I Wanna Be a Producer” came on. I will never get over how great that song is. I think it’s possibly the ultimate “I Want” song from a musical. Then I started to think about how I am going to get to see Jesse Tyler Ferguson on stage again (this Friday!). He’s playing Leo Bloom in The Producers at the Hollywood Bowl. I could not be more excited! (Trust me, I’m sure you’re gonna get an earful about it on Friday night.) (Just yet another thing to be thankful for in my “thankfulness theme” of this race.)

While we’re back on that thankful note – “Falling for the First Time” (an awesome Barenaked Ladies song) came on my iPod. When I heard the line “I’m so thrilled to finally be failing,” I had a moment when I thought about how awesome it is to be immersing myself in something I really love and care about, again – to get to be acting every week and falling flat on my face sometimes (most of the time) in classes at the Groundlings.

I spent too much time in my recent past distracted with basic needs for life, as opposed to the important things that make up said life. How great is it to to be so in love with something that failing really matters. (Aw, man. You thought you could make it out of a post without hearing about improv again. So close! Sorry, maybe next time!)

I know I’m a little overly thankful. There was just something about this race. It was just a beautiful day to be alive!

I’ll pick up here for the end of the race tomorrow.

(#24) Run Montecito-Summerland – Part 1 (Thankfulness)

July 21, 2012

Pre-race (Photo credit: Their Facebook page.)

If I were going to pick a theme for this blog entry, I’d go with Thankful.

First off, I’m so thankful for the wonderful front desk/security friends in my building. We’ve all agreed to run the LA Marathon together in 2013 – assuming Joel does. He wants to quit smoking, and everyone has rallied around the idea that if he does in fact quit smoking, and trains for the race, we’ll all run it.

So, I have these great people who I get to come home to every night. Leading up to the Montecito race, I was trying to convince anyone I knew (or didn’t know, even) to take a mini-road-trip with me. I hate driving. I love spending time with people. I hate the hassle of renting a car – having to leave before the public transportation that gets me to the car rental place closes. Sure enough, Joel offered to take me to the half marathon! This was excellent news. I was so happy to get a super full night’s sleep, without having to trek to the airport in the middle of the night to rent a car. He got off work at 4am, and we rode on up to Montecito.

Yet another thing to be thankful of – besides a great building staffed by great people, and a ride to a race given by one of those great people – was the fact that the staff at Run Montecito-Summerland gave me a free race entry! They were sweet, and said they were happy to support my goal of doing 52 half marathons in 52 weeks. Race entries definitely add up, so a free one was super helpful.

Then, there was my surprise thankful moment that came out of nowhere. I picked up my packet in the morning. The people at the race were incredibly organized. Everything was already in a bag altogether – bib, pins, timing chip – everything you needed in one place instead of grabbing the bib, then rifling through the other container for the right chip, then grabbing fasteners out of a box, and getting safety pins from another box. I thought that was a brilliant idea (though it was not my big, thankful moment).

Aurora De Lucia wearing her timing chip on her wristThe person at the race said, “The timing chip goes on your wrist, not your shoe. There’s a bracelet in there.” Okay, simple enough.

I put the wristband on, and it immediately transported me to the old world I used to live in – the one where I had a plastic wristband put on all the time. I wore so many wristbands throughout my time in the hospital. And it was so weird to be immediately transported back. It was just a wristband. How could it mean so much? But something about putting it on overwhelmed me a bit.

I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about the time I was in the hospital. It might seem like I do, because I continue to tell you more of the story every Wednesday, and because it will be a part of my life until the day I stop paying medical bills, and the day I fit into my old jeans, etc. And those days (and more days) aren’t coming for a while.

But really, I don’t spend that much time focused on it in my day-to-day life, because I’m back to living. I have other things to worry about now. But in that one moment, the memories came flooding back. And I took a second to really think about how crazy lucky I am to be able to run.

I have the ability to run. I’m not fast. I’m not competing to win. But I get to fly! I get to experience making new friends with fun, interesting runners at various races. I get to experience time with music and my thoughts in smaller races. I get to experience the joy of crossing finish lines and getting faster. I get to do something that brings me so much joy.

And it’s pretty commonplace in my life now. I run almost every weekend. Sometimes during the week, I’ll jump on a treadmill and not think much of it. But it is such a gift. It is a gift every single time.

Having a heart condition doesn’t make me or running in general any more special than it already was. It’s always been special, it always will be special. I feel very lucky to have found it and to experience it often. I have complete freedom. If I wanted to lace up my sneaks and go 100 miles, I’d have the freedom to do it. And I think that’s pretty amazing.

(And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.)

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 9

July 20, 2012

(This was me the afternoon after the race – My sister took it before she and my dad decided to wake me up!)

I know, we all thought this series was over. However, I realized one important thing I forgot to say. Here’s the craziest, best part.

After the race, my dad said, “I’ll do this race next year if you do this race with me.”

Huh – what?

I laughed for the next 3 minutes after typing that, because my dad is too funny! On the one hand, I don’t ever, in my life, ever again, want to subject myself to a marathon on a trail. Nothing against this specific race at all. The people here did an awesome job putting it on. If I was going to do a marathon on a trail, it might as well have been this one. It’s a great trail race – but it doesn’t really matter if I’m in the best trail race on the planet. I knew before this race, and I continue to know after, that I do not like trail running.

However, I have such a super intense desire to see my dad make his way through this race (and climb that root wall, and jump over brooks and fallen trees and things), that I almost want to go through 26.2 miles of trail again. I’ll survive. The level of entertainment throughout the day will outweigh the level of suffering by a ratio of at least 4:1. With my dad on the trail, the day will be about 800 times funnier than it already was. In conclusion, I’m pretty sure it’s going to happen. How do I pass up the chance to see my dad do this race? Too much hilarity is probable. Buckle up for 2013 (probably).

(#23) Napa to Sonoma Wine Country Half Marathon – Part 4 (My Undershirt Becomes My Makeshift Hat)

July 19, 2012

I left off yesterday with the sun beginning to come out.

And in case you didn’t read the first 3 parts, I’d forgotten my hat! That’s right. My forehead was exposed. I couldn’t just run in the sun like that. So, I slipped off my white tech shirt from under my t-shirt. Of course, now that means that my arms are exposed. Michael Jackson had it right when he sang, “You can’t win,” didn’t he?

As I was getting out the shirt to tie around my head, I happened across a medical booth with sunscreen calling my name right in front and center of their table. They let me use some. Oh golly did I lather it on. It was only SPF 15 (when I need about 150), so I really had to make sure I got myself good.

I wrapped my t-shirt around my head and went through the rest of the race looking like a total dorky thug.

When I got to the end, a volunteer placed the medal over my head. (I love when they do that instead of just handing it to you.) Since this was a wine country themed race, I also got a wine glass at the end.

This was cool for about 10 seconds, until I realized – wait a second. What are my transporting a wine glass logistics here? I have to get this all the way back to Los Angeles. (Somehow it did in fact make it back in one piece.)

After the race, I met back up with Wendy and Marty. (Wendy was way ahead of me. She set a new PR!)

Get this, they rented this cool convertible. My seat belt in the back was backward – I was sitting on the right side and buckled left to right (inside to outside). It was like we were in Europe! (I have no idea if cars are really like that in Europe. It’s just something I decided.) We cruised around town in style.

Wendy had to stop off at an outlet mall by the hotel, because her suitcase had broken. While there, I immediately bought a new hat so that I at least had one to get me home. We rode from Napa Valley to San Francisco with the top down. Ballin’.

(We even entered the car by jumping over the side of it at the outlet mall. I wasn’t the most successful with it. The car was tall! I am short…)

I had the best time with Wendy and Marty. We cracked up for most of the mini-road-trip. Marty lovingly (well, I’m gonna go ahead and think, and say, it was done with love) made fun the blog (’cause you know, he reads it(!))- making me sound mean for making fun of my sister (which I do gently and lovingly), and for accepting someone else’s medal at my first marathon (after the race ran out). (Come on, now. I didn’t want to turn down such kindness, and that person still got a medal, btw.)

We then talked about how Marty definitely did not read the blog with the right inflections – at which point we started laughing hysterically. Wendy and Marty started reciting things from the blog in wildly different inflections. Sometimes they made things fit perfectly the way I imagine them. Sometimes they acted super duper sarcastic – making it sound as though every time I said something was joyous or lovely, it was actually the worst.

They had me cracking up. Hopefully they’re reading this knowing I had so much fun, not (super sarcastically) so much fun.

 (And hopefully you all can imagine how hilarious this mockery was, even though you weren’t there, and you can’t hear me, and apparently I don’t write in a way that helps people understand my tone. Inflect that, Wendy and Marty!)

We got to the airport before you knew it. Of course, it broke my heart. I wish Wendy & Marty were at all my races, so I could just bask in their energy and loveliness.

As I went through security, I continued straight up carrying a wine glass, since I had nothing safe to put it in. I thought this might pose some kind of problem, since it could easily become shards of glass. Or since I probably seemed to be a super lush, carrying a wine glass in my hand at the airport. But no. No one cared about the wine glass. What they cared about was the medal that had a corkscrew on it! Oh, screw.

They asked what it was. When I said it was my medal for a half marathon, they just let me right through. Huh, Well, then, okay. Thanks. I scurried away to the gate, and headed home.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 15 (Don’t You Dare Try to Stop Me/I’m an Idiot)

July 18, 2012

Homer Simpson in a boxing match in black and white with Moe as his coach
Still fighting (Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

It’s Wednesday, so this series continues.

Picking up from last week –

Hmm, how to even tell this chapter… because let me tell you, it revolves around me being an idiot.

At this point, I was still fighting. I wasn’t letting it sink in that I suppose this was a serious issue, or something.

I was (maybe still am) super crazy stubborn, and I did not want to stop my life for a second. I was all “You can’t make me stop running! My life will not be controlled by anything or anyone.”

So, on Wednesday or Thursday I decided to go out for a jog. I had been super sick with my ulcer the previous week. I’d quite possibly consumed a total of around 900 calories over 5 days.

The best time to go for a jog is probably not soon after you haven’t eaten a normal meal in a week, or after you’ve somewhat recently had a little hole poked through your heart during an ablation, or after you’ve been on medicine that lowers your blood pressure beyond the threshold that keeps you upright.

When I put it in writing, it seems pretty self-explanatory that it’s not the time for running. It sounds as though only an insane idiot would go our for a jog. But you have to remember that at the time, there were all these emotions intertwined with everything.

I was at the beginning of feeling all this stuff. The illness (I guess I can call it an illness – not to sound so dramatic or anything) was beginning to take over my life. I had been forced to miss work, and do things I didn’t have any desire to do. It was the beginning of my loss of free will. (Again – not to be so dramatic about it.)

I still had free will in the sense that even when we’re feeling trapped, we can always control ourselves and how we react. I could’ve had that positive attitude about it. But no. Problems with my heart were starting to determine for me things I could and couldn’t do. And I wasn’t ready to just sit back and take it!

Bart Simpson not facing us, turning around a bit, wearing a dunce cap
I was being a dunce. (Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

So, I went out for a jog. Not surprisingly I passed out. Duh. When I started this story, I forgot that this super embarrassing chapter was part of it. But I can’t really skip over it…

I don’t remember precisely what happened that morning. I think I made it home and then passed out. I’m pretty sure it didn’t happen on the jog itself. (I probably would’ve been a good deal more injured if I’d fallen mid-run.)

Either way, I passed out most likely because I was an idiot (please forgive me), and not because I had a heart condition. Back in the ambulance I went.

This time when the paramedic said, “Where to?” I said Massachusetts General.

Tufts was a great hospital. The doctors there were the ones with a keen enough eye to spot my heart problem on an EKG. The nurses there took exceptional care of me. The food was some of the best food I’ve had in my life. Nothing against Tufts.

But now that I knew I had this rare, pesky condition, MGH just felt right.

In the ER, I told them I was a moron. I confessed right away to jogging with no nutrients running through my system. Of course, that fact didn’t change the other fact – that I had a heart problem. The doctors went ahead and ran an EKG, which was of course abnormal.

Basically the consensus was, “We agree that you easily could’ve passed out from poor exercise and nutrient choices, as opposed to your heart problem. But here you are in our ER with a heart problem. Though Tufts is a great hospital, and we trust them – now that you’re with us, let’s see what we can do for you.”

And I was admitted to Mass Gen.

This is where I’ll pick up next week.

(#23) Napa to Sonoma Wine Country Half Marathon – Part 3 (Fun Spectators)

July 17, 2012

Some alpacas

I left off yesterday in mile 5.

So, I was walking pretty slowly. Every mile I’d give it a little go, and try to jog again. My legs would shut me down. “Yeah, we’re just not gonna do it.” Well, okay then.

I did enjoy little bursts of running here and there. I kept telling myself, “This may be the only time you get to run this week. And you desperately need it.” I can tell when I’ve run lately and when I haven’t.

When I have, I’m more awake, productive, happy, clearer, smarter, pleasant to be around – generally all around better. (Note: That doesn’t necessarily always mean I’m great. I still do dumb things, trip up on words, obsess about things in my life, and obviously have bad qualities. But they are definitely minimized when I’ve gotten a good run in recently. For sure, for sure. (Of course, this isn’t only my opinion. It’s biology. But definitely, on a personal level I can always tell.)) So, anytime I needed a burst of energy, I’d think, “Do you want to be fun and have fun, or not?”

I’d give it my all for a short distance, then saunter on a while longer. There were areas where we had to stop for traffic in this race. And, though I wasn’t going for time, I don’t like to stop my momentum – even if that momentum is very, very slow. There were a few times when I would see a traffic stop coming up with a group all bunched up going together. I knew they’d probably stop the runners again after letting a big group through, so I would straight up sprint until I reached the stop, through to the other side of the road. Those little, crazy sprints were really fun.

There were a few houses spread out along the course. The residents around the area seemed really were super welcoming. In mile 8, this family with two little girls came out with chocolate chip pancakes! Yum. It adds even more joy to the day that these strangers cared enough to be so sweet to all of us.

There were also a number of families who came out and cheered, and little boy who excitedly high-fived every runner who passed him. He yelled out to everyone, “Thanks for running!” How sweet, right?

I loved the vibe of this race.

There was one family that was hilarious. They had set out a little makeshift station for everybody. As some people in front of me stopped, the woman said, “We got beer and we got water.” The runners took the last beers, and the woman said, “Okay, now we’re just down to water.” The man seemed super surprised as he said, “We went through a lot of Guinness today!” The woman added “I didn’t know beer would be so popular!” I thought it was hilarious that so many runners enjoyed drinking while running. I guess what do you expect at a race through wine country, right?

There were also tons of people from Team Challenge everywhere. This must’ve been a big race for them, ’cause I’d say the majority of the people I saw were wearing Team Challenge shirts. Boy oh boy, did they have cheerleaders! A lot of people seemed to be doing their first half ever, which was so sweet to witness. Someone was near tears at mile 10 as the coach said something like, “Can you believe this? Look! You’re at mile 10! Double digit miles. I’m so proud of you.”

That’s magic – someone’s first every distance race. It’s magic, and I love seeing it. It makes me really want to figure out how to convince more people to do their first race! A race is always more fun when I have people to share it with – always.

As the morning wore on, the clouds started to part. Dum, dum, dum (scary chords)! The sun began to shine down on us. Uh oh. (In case you’ve forgotten, I forgot my hat!)

This is where I’ll pick up on Thursday (after Wednesday night’s series continues).

(#23) Napa to Sonoma Wine Country Half Marathon – Part 2 (Awesomely, They Provided Some Sunscreen)

July 16, 2012

We left off yesterday with me forgetting my hat.

Honestly, how did I not notice before we left the hotel? I get dressed every day of my life. And every day – race or no race, I put on a hat. I mean, come on. I have read both of Dr. Brandt’s books.

Some race volunteers overheard us talking, and they let me know that there was sunscreen up for grabs over on a table across from us. Thank goodness.

Way to go, Destination Races! I appreciate how prepared you are when I was so inexplicably underprepared. I went over and coated my face while Wendy checked her weather app for me. It looked as though it’d be an overcast day. Let’s just hope the sun never comes out.

I had such an amazing time last week pushing myself and getting faster, that I hoped to see how much of that I could recreate this week. However, I knew that usually when I have a race on my faster side, I have a race on the slower side the following week. (I think my body usually kind of needs at least a week to catch up.)

I’ll spoil the ending now, ’cause I don’t want us getting too excited about my strong start. I finished in 3:31:52.

I started the race knowing my legs were tired, but thinking, “Well, let’s see if I can run the first mile.” Turns out, a large portion of the first mile was uphill. The longer the hill got, the more people in front of me started walking. I find that having a bunch of people around me in a race can work one of two ways –
1) Seeing them will help push me to go faster, seeing if I can pass them.
2) Watching a bunch of people slow down will reinforce that something is hard, and make it more okay for me to slow down at said hard thing.

I almost slowed down with the people around me, but no. I’m jogging this first mile, by golly! I made a promise to myself (that I kept) that I would jog up every hill in this race. Flat surfaces and downhills were up for grabs, but if I was going up, I wasn’t walking.

people running the Napa 2 Sonoma Wine Country half marathon 2012

I’ve got some great running music going – Eminem is carrying me forward. I get to the first mile marker in around 12 minutes. All right, nice. Maybe I should just keep running, and see if I can jog the second mile as well. Yep. I make it through the second mile without walking.

Well, shoot. If I’ve already made it this far. Let’s just jog the first 5k. 38 minutes. Bam. Done and done.  Well, if I already jogged the first 5k, I might as well jog to mile 4, right? I slowed my jog, but still came into mile 4 around 50 minutes. Not too shabby. I think, “I’m so proud of myself! Last week, this week. I’m getting faster. What, what?”

But, slow your roll, girl. Don’t get too proud ’cause bam. I faded hardcore in mile 5. I definitely still reach the point where my mind wants to keep going at a certain pace, and begs me to keep it, but my legs just do not keep up. I know a lot of working out (and life) is a mental game more than a physical one. But physically, I do have limits (that can be stretched over time, but don’t change with every race).

You know what I need to do? Work on my upper body strength! I have none. It’s always my core that’s wilting over before my legs are in trubs.

So my legs (and everything else really) were all, “Look, we’re friends. And we appreciate what you’re trying to do for us. But didn’t we just do this for you last week? Cut us some slack already! We’ll happily carry you to 13.1 miles, be we don’t want to go there quickly.”

Well, hey. I can’t argue with you. I totally walked mile 5. My dad happened to call during that mile, which was nice. I had left him a message that morning telling him the unbelievable (in the bad sense) news that I’d forgotten my hat. I told him I’d possibly survive – we could hope. He called me back to say he was positive I would survive. Who could know, really?

This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

(#23) Napa to Sonoma Wine Country Half Marathon – Part 1 (I Forgot My Precious, Precious Hat?!)

July 15, 2012

Awww! This made my week!

What a joy to do this race! I was giddy with anticipation all week, mainly because I finally got to be reunited with Wendy and Marty! They are the sweetest of sweethearts. If you don’t know who they are, you can search for them on this blog. (They pop up a fair amount.) I met them at a 5k, and we’ve had amazing adventures together ever since.

I didn’t arrive in Napa Valley until 2am the morning of the race. (I couldn’t leave L.A. until after a class on Saturday.) Wendy and Marty were kind enough to let me crash in their 2-bedroom suite. So, I quietly snuck in, in the middle of the night, and found a note and a protein bar waiting on my pillow. Adorable, right?

Wendy and Marty have this energy that just kind of wraps around you anytime you’re around them – it’s like a perpetual hug from their auras.

I had a wonderful night’s sleep in a super comfy bed. When  I got to see them in the morning, it was as exciting as… well, it was as exciting as seeing them! They get their own special excitement that I don’t want to liken to anything else.

I commented how great it was for us all to be back together. Marty commented back something like, “Yes. All of us but the pants.” Oh, I know. Those precious, precious pants. At least, when talking about them, we get to use the best emotion – laughter through tears.

Side note: You know how Marty knew about my poor, poor pants? He still takes a gander at the blog! Yep. He may even be reading this sentence right now. It makes me feel so special when people read my blog – especially when people as cool as Marty think I’m cool enough to read about! How super cool is that? Cool explosion.

Going back to our morning – I slept in my racing outfit (sad short pants and all). I wanted to get up at the last minute, and have as little to do in the morning as possible. I thought, “Do I have everything? I guess so. I feel as though I have less stuff than usual, but I don’t have my bib or chip yet, so that must be it.”

After we got there and Wendy and I picked up my bib and chip, she looked at me and said, “Where’s your hat?” My eyes shot open wider than they’d ever widened. Oh. my. goodness. Everybody commence freakout.

I realized that not only did I not have my hat at the race – I was pretty sure I’d left it in the shuttle from the San Francisco airport to Napa Valley! Oh no.

Before anybody freaks out too much, let’s all remember that I have a duplicate back-up hat at home. And there is currently at least one up on Ebay as well. So, this won’t be nearly as depressing as the pants.

Nonetheless, obviously we have to freak out a little. I was outside. In nature. In the elements and such. And I didn’t have protection on my face!

When we first left the house, it was still pretty dark outside. And it was a very overcast day, which is why I didn’t think about it until Wendy said something. (Even though you’d think 23 races into this year, I’d know how to get dressed by now. But I guess I don’t.) Oh man, my forehead is exposed!

You may be thinking, “How in the world did you leave your favorite hat in the shuttle? Aurora! Your pants, your hat. You’re not allowed to have nice things anymore.” First off, yes, I agree. Maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to have nice things.

Secondly, in answer to your question, here’s what happened. I went to sleep across the backseat of the shuttle. And the hat was getting in my way, because of the bill. In my half-sleep state, I took it off and set it on the ground with my stuff. I’m guessing that over the course of the next two hours, it ended up moving somewhere else on the floor of the van.

As I got out of the van, I did one of those last looks back, as I always do when leaving a place, just to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind. But it was late. It was dark. I didn’t do a thorough look. I didn’t see anything, and I knew I had only brought two bags – my backpack and my computer case. I had both of those. What could I possible be missing?

Sigh. This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

(#22) Fun in the Sun Half Marathon (July 8, 2012) – Part 3 (Last Loop & Some Rude Guy)

July 14, 2012

I don’t now if I’m eating or sneezing or what’s happening in this picture, but it’s the only one I have of me at the race.

Picking up from yesterday –

I ran around ‘til I basically made it to the Long Beach Transit Center. Oh, man. This is where get the subway after the race, and it’s 3.5 miles from the finish line. How great would it be if this were the finish line? Well, it’s not. I looped back and kept on going with 7 miles to go.

It wasn’t until the sun came out that I thought about how smart the 6:30am people were to minimize their time in the sun.

The hotter it got, the harder the race seemed. I lost a few minutes, stopping multiple times for probably a whole minute each; trying to get as much water as possible from sort of low-flow, small-trajectory drinking fountains (and covering myself with as much water as I could). So sunny. So very, very sunny.

In the running between all that stopping, I realized I was slowing down. I said to myself, “Oh yeah, mile 8. This is where I usually slow down.” But then I said, “Forget usually! You know all that reflecting you’ve been doing lately? – Saying you’re gonna be a better, stronger person? Be her! She may not be a fast runner, but she’s gonna be someone who keeps pushing in mile 8.”

So, I kept pushing. I need to get better at the whole distance – especially if I want to increase it to marathons. Eventually mile 13 is going to have to be as strong as mile 1. I didn’t allow myself much walking. Even if my strides got smaller and slower, I tried to keep it at a jog.

The final loop was the same as the first loop. I didn’t know what to expect when the last three miles were the same as the first three miles. Would it be fun to do it all over again after different scenery in the middle? Would it be awful – “Didn’t I just do this earlier today?”

It was actually nice. I knew what to expect. It was familiar, but still somewhat new, since I’d gotten a 7-mile break before doing it the second time. However, there was this really loud, judgmental guy, meanly screaming at everyone who went by. He kept shouting something about everyone “being retards” for putting themselves through the pain of running. Rude, right?

That dude riled me up a little, ‘cause you know, it’s this strange guy furrowing his brow totally screaming at you while you’re just trying to finish your race. But I mellowed out almost immediately. Maybe it was all the endorphins from all the running, but I thought, “What do I care if this guy wants to be angry that people are exercising? I’m sure he’s got something going on in his own life that’s making him so angry. I don’t need to be offended that he’s yelling at me. He doesn’t know me at all. It’s not really about me.”

Boom. Example for myself of me trying to be a better, more understanding and compassionate person. ‘Cause I word fight with crazy strangers sometimes. But there’s really no need.

I jogged on through to the finish with a time of 3:05:49. Not a PR, but not too shabby. I felt absolutely amazing – not about the time on the clock, but just the miles under my belt felt good. My body and brain were very thankful. I thought, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot, I truly love running. And I desperately need it. Life is better in this moment.”

I got my medal from the super lovely race director. I love Rocket Racing Productions. This was my first race with them, but will not be my last. The race had a great vibe.

Outdoor yoga class I passed by.

I enjoyed the 3 1/2 mile walk back to the subway station, dancing most of the way. I saw a humongous yoga class taking place on a lawn, which looked really cool. I should’ve run over and stretched out with them.

I also came across this humongous staircase from the road down to the beach, and did some really fun “stair acting” to a Frank Sinatra song as I went down the stairs. Something about stairs – I love to act on them. There are so many various ways to walk down stairs – regally, shyly, excitedly, and the list goes on and on. I made a mental note of this place. Someday if I feel like it, I can just run up them for exercise, and act on down them for fun – over and over again all day. Mmm, stair acting.

(#22) Fun in the Sun Half Marathon (July 8, 2012) – Part 2 (A Dog Pops Out *Shakes Fist*)

July 13, 2012

I left off yesterday saying I fired up my running app on my phone.

I didn’t know what to expect from this race. I hadn’t actually jogged in a long time. (The previous weekend I didn’t have a race; two weekends before, I walked two races back to back; the weekend before that, I basically went on a hike (though technically it was a marathon). I had gone for short runs on a treadmill, but I wondered if the ability to go for any sort of distance had fallen by the wayside.)

I had dragged myself out of bed in the morning. None of my usual running outfits were clean. I threw on red pajama pants and my red “52 half marathons in 52 weeks” shirt (the sweet gift I got from Wendy and Marty). I realized I was a big ol’ blob of red, but didn’t care. I just wanted to run and then fall back asleep.

As I took off, I thought, “I’m not all that well prepared. Hopefully I’ll be able to at least go a mile before I walk. I suppose I’ll listen to my body – run when I can and walk the rest.

I’m jogging along. Almost everyone pulls out in front of me. (Everyone really isn’t that many people in a  small race.) I assume I’m going pretty slowly. (I am toward the back, after all.) But even if this first mile is around 13 minutes, I’ll be happy. There’s an automated voice lady on my running app who announces how I’m doing at the end of every mile. And at the end of mile 1, she starts out by saying “10 minutes -” What?!

Don’t get too excited. Her next words were “57 seconds,” so I was basically at 11 minutes. Still. I didn’t feel super tired. I felt that I was doing a nice, somewhat comfortable pace. And I was hovering around 11 minutes! Not too shabby for someone who likes to shoot for 12 in the first mile – when she’s pushing herself.

I keep running along. And I get a time of 37:47 for my first 5k! What is happening? I’m getting faster, and I’m getting more comfortable. Is my app malfunctioning? It doesn’t seem to be. I’m seeing physical traits (entrance to a neighborhood, entrance to a beach, etc.) that the race crew described as signifying certain mile markers. Well, my goodness. Maybe taking a distance running break did something good. It was only about a five weeks ago that I freaked out with joy at a 39-something 5k. (I was ready to start crawling after the 5k in San Diego. Here, I was feeling great).

As I was running, I realized how much I really needed this race. If you’ve been reading the blog lately, you’ve been hearing about the crazy stress I was putting on myself with improv. I desperately needed this run. It felt so good!

Well, for the most part. There was one part toward the beginning that was terrifying. As I was running through a neighborhood, I heard something jingling behind me. I turned around and, yes – it was a dog collar!

As this dog is running toward me, I scream and sprint out into the road. (Thankfully no cars were coming.) My brain couldn’t catch up to my body and say, “the road might not be the safest place to run without looking.” I only had the visceral reaction of – do anything get away from the dog!

A cyclist then called to me saying not to worry, ‘cause the dog was with him. Okay, well, I am worried because you’re on a bicycle and you’re not even riding all that close to him. You know he could’ve easily eaten my Achilles tendon by now as we waited for you to stop and get off your bike, right? (Yes, all you dog lovers out there, I mildly exaggerate how much I think a dog is gonna eat my Achilles tendon… Even though I really do think a dog is going to one day.)

The cyclist and the dog quickly rode and ran away. I was paranoid the whole time after that. Every time I heard any sound – myself kicking some sand, tires circling around, anything – my head darted in that direction. Is that a dog? Luckily, it was never a dog again. My intense fear and desire to get out of that neighborhood possibly attributed to my faster than normal 5k.

This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

(#22) Fun in the Sun Half Marathon (July 8, 2012) – Part 1 (The Pre-Race Chapter)

July 12, 2012

Relaxing the weekend between races

This race wasn’t originally on my schedule. I had given myself two weeks off after those two heavy mileage weeks in row.

One weekend off from racing was kind of amazing. I skyped with the amazing David Petrick. (If you don’t know who he is, he’s one of my friends who I think is totally the bee’s knees. I caught up with some other friends as well. I slept, and did laundry. It was kind of glorious and strange. (Racing is completely glorious too, so I’m not trying to knock it at all.)

Don’t you hate it when people are all, “Oh my glamorous life. I’m just so busy that I relish the thought of doing laundry? Yeah, I know. I know that I choose to do half marathons, and that I’m not nearly as busy as tons of other people. I am thankful to be at least somewhat busy with things I love. But getting up early, traveling out to who knows where, and traversing 13.1 miles is sort of draining sometimes. And it was really nice to have a little break (a break that would get very old if had too often.)

After I had one restful weekend, I knew another one wasn’t necessary. And I found out about this race in Long Beach. Long Beach is super easy to get to – I get to take the subway straight there. And the race was only $30. I figured, why put off until later in the year what I could do this weekend? It was too late to register online, but they said I could register at the race.

I started a new job the week leading into the race. A day job. During the daytime hours. Of the day.

Oh, the sun. The bright, bright sun. So sunny. And bright. And daytime-y.

For the majority of this year, I worked nights and loved it. But I’ve been enjoying unemployment(/freedom) (let’s call it hiatus-ing) for a while now, and I didn’t want to pass up an awesome job at a great company (or any job at all, really). So, now I work when the sun is out.

That being the case, of course sleep escaped me (as it so often sounds like it does in this blog) for the majority of the week. (How can my body possibly get used to going to bed when the sun goes down?)

When my alarm rang for this half marathon, it seemed so easy to keep hitting the snooze. I hadn’t paid anything yet. It’s not too late to just sleep in. But, no. I need this.

I put on some Book of Mormon. It’s what gets me out of bed on many mornings, since I obviously have no choice but to dance. As I got dressed and thought about the day ahead of me, I realized I had somehow already forgotten how exciting it is to get up and do a half marathon. I pumped myself up, grabbed my hat and glasses, and went on my merry way.

Even taking the first bus of the morning to Long Beach, I didn’t get there until right at 6:30 – right when the race was supposed to start. The race started a few minutes late, so I could’ve hurried to join that group. But they had another wave starting at 7 to help break it up a little. I decided to wait, which was nice.

I had time to settle, stretch, meet a guy from Ohio. We found out they didn’t have mile markers on the course. He mentioned that it was okay, because he’d just use his phone app. Great idea. I hadn’t used mine in a while, since I hadn’t been going for speed lately. But I definitely wanted to be able to keep track of my distance, so I fired up my MapMyRun app.

And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow when I actually, you know, talk about the race I set out to talk about.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 14 (Intense Stomach Pain)

July 11, 2012

Krusty gripping his stomach, having fallen over by his podium
(Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

It’s Wednesday night, so this series continues.

Picking up from last week, my stomach pain was getting more intense.

I didn’t really know what to do. I’d already mentioned it in the hospital, and no one seemed to think anything of it. (Granted, it had gotten markedly worse since then.)

It always took weeks to get an appointment with my doctor. I didn’t want to go to an urgent care for something I’d already mentioned at a hospital. I just kept putting off the now somewhat blinding pain.

It got to the point where I could barely move. I thought, “Okay, I can’t function. I kind of think this is intense enough to go to the hospital.” (Tsk, tsk, tsk.)

I can’t remember if I took an ambulance or walked. I remember I debated it because I didn’t want to waste an ambulance that someone else might have needed. It was extremely hard to move and walk, but the hospital wasn’t all that far from me. So, I want to say that I walked (or maybe even took a cab). But I can’t remember…

Either way, I ended up in the ER. Again. It may not come across in this story, because I complain so much as I remember it all – but at the time, I was often (almost always) all smiles and laughs with the doctors and nurses.

We rocked out to “Thriller” together. We told jokes and learned about each other’s lives. If you forgot about all the bad stuff that was happening, in some ways it was fun, sometimes.

A friendly nurse, whom I’d seen during my other trips to the ER, was working the day I came in with my stomach pain. As I sat in the bed in my little bay, or whatever little curtained off areas are called in the ER, I cried softly. I was in so much pain that I couldn’t stop the tears. I made as little sound as possible, because I was in an ER. People with real problems were there. I didn’t want to be a wuss who couldn’t deal with her poor wittle tummy.

The nurses face was shocked when he came in and saw that I was crying. He was so sweet. He said he was very surprised to see me like that. Usually I’d be sitting in bed working, greeting anyone who came in with a smile. He assured me they’d figure out what was wrong.

For those of you who’ve been reading the blog lately, you may be thinking, “Aurora, I don’t see what the big deal is. It sounds like you cry all the time.” Okay, yes. I cry over things that matter – theater, improv, dreams, important stuff. (Well, and I cry over pants.)

I certainly did cry sometimes in the hospital, but I didn’t cry all that often in there. The first few visits were mainly filled with confusion, and trying to figure things out. I also kept thinking I’d be done at any moment. I didn’t realize a saga was unfolding. So, there wasn’t a lot to cry about in the beginning.

I bet we’re in for more crying later, though!

Back to the stomach pain – it turns out, I had an ulcer. My understanding is that one of the medicines I was on could’ve caused it.  (I’m sure stress probably helped.) I don’t remember how they treat ulcers. Whatever they did, eventually I got to go home.

Oh goodness. Slowly deteriorating. Slowly going crazier.

And this is where I’ll pick up next week.

(#21) Arroyo Creek Half Marathon (June 24, 2012) – Part 2 (Now We Can Talk About The Race)

July 10, 2012

 Picking up from yesterday –

(Sort of. Really, moving on from yesterday, ’cause I just talked about Michael Jackson. Come on, though. It was a race on June 24th. How does he not come up, right?)

While we’re talking about the obligatory stuff that I bring up during half marathons around this time, skip the next two paragraphs to not read about improv. I spent about 5 or 6 miles of this race talking to Josh. (Yes, my friend from the Grand Canyon for anyone who reads this blog.)

He called me around mile 4. We’d been playing phone tag for a while, so I didn’t want to wait another second to talk to him. After all, among other things, we had to discuss improv at length. (You thought you were gonna get a post away from it, didn’t you? You will. Probably. Soon enough-ish.)

Josh is an excellent listener. We tried to pinpoint, together, exactly where improv all went wrong. What a great friend, right – to hang on every detail, and try for well over an hour to figure things out with me about a class he wasn’t even in. He’s a good guy.

Okay, so I’m toward the back of the pack. We looped around in a couple of places. On almost every loop I saw this nice man who seemed happy to be there, happy to be alive, just generally happy. He was always smiling and making little comments about the beautiful morning, and how great it was to be out. That was enjoyable.

There was this woman at a somewhat early turnaround who looked at me as we passed each other and said cheerily, “I’m trying to catch you.” I smiled back and said, “It shouldn’t be too hard.” Then, obviously, my goal of the race became to not let her catch me. Why was she out for me, specifically? Maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she didn’t think about it, and just said something to the first person she saw. But if someone wanted a competition, I wasn’t about to lose.

She never did catch me. Because she never did finish! Way later in the race as I was at a turnaround, the volunteers told me I was last. “Oh no, no, no. I can’t be last. I talked to a woman behind me at a different turnaround.” “Yeah, she quit – well, actually, she didn’t quit. She switched to a shorter distance.” “Okay, so what you’re saying is she quit?” “Well, she didn’t quit, per se.” “Was she injured?” “No.” “Okay, so she quit.” Then we all laughed at my hilarious bluntness and my inflections. Ha, ha, ha.

Really, good for her that she finished a distance. But now I was now last. Drats. I could see people in front of me. I could’ve probably caught people if I’d started running. I was too tired.

I’ve been trying to be more in the mindset of running my own races, and not caring too terribly much if I come in last. I’m there for my own goals of the week, not to try to overtake these other people. I have a super competitive nature, so it doesn’t always work out that way, but I was beyond tired enough at that point that I could refuse to care.

This race was amazing to even the slowest half marathoners. When I got to the next water stop, a smiling person had a cup filled and waiting for me, even though he’d put the station away.

And the people at one of the last water stops on the course were just as excitable as they were when I’d seen them as one of the first water stops. It was a party there for every single runner (even the last one). They cheered, and waved props around. It were pretty much the coolest, most energetic and fun stop I’ve seen maybe even in any of my races so far.

It wasn’t just the water stop people who were cool in this race. Everybody was. The guy on the bike, and the medics riding in the golf cart. Everyone who was around was always flashing smiles and making little conversations, as they started on their next round of checking on people.

When I got to the finish, the race director announced my name with pride, and happily cheered for me. Other runners were there still cheering as well. I felt so loved even as the last runner. They even had the free massage booth still open! How awesome, right? I got an excellent massage, made my way back home, and immediately crawled into bed. Ah, precious, precious sleep.

(#21) Arroyo Creek Half Marathon (June 24, 2012) – Part 1 (This is Really All Just About Michael Jackson)

July 9, 2012

 Oh Boy.

When I first got to the race, I thought that I would rather be anywhere in the world except there. (And by the end, there were few places I’d rather be.) I love half marathons, but you have to understand I had not had a night with the amount of sleep I needed in… well, who knows how long? I’d say at least two weeks, maybe even longer.

I know that plenty of people never get enough sleep. And people are always, “Oh, you can sleep when you’re dead.” Okay, yes and no. I’m all for living and using every moment of life that you can. But life is better when you sleep. Biology.

So, my brain, my eyes, my body, my everything was begging me to just go to sleep. But alas, it was time for a race.

Same as yesterday, my only goal was to finish. The time limit was 4 hours, so as long as I came in under that, I felt fine. I jogged part of the beginning, ’cause I like to get a nice little start going, then I walked the rest of the way. I tried to make sure there was always someone behind me. I didn’t really want to be last.

Since this was the day before my birthday (aka the anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death), I decided it’d be al Michael all the time through this race. If possible. I do have a tendency to break out into wailing, sobbing, and any other kind of general breakdown anytime I listen to him for too long – especially any day surrounding June 25th. But you know, I think crying is good for you. So, let’s see if I can keep it together enough to race. If not, I’ll just save it all for when I get home.

Surprisingly I did not have a breakdown while listening to him. I think there’s something about those exercise endorphins or focusing on another goal. It always seems less sad (and more possible) to listen to his music during a half marathon. Plus, time has passed since that day. It doesn’t make him any less special, or the day any more sad. But you know, time minimizes all wounds. (Some can’t be healed, yo.)

And his music is so good – one of the most obvious statements that could be made, but it’s so true. And somehow, I actually forget. I mean, I know I love him. The world knows I love him. I know his music is beyond words exceptional and that he’s the most talented human being to ever grace this planet. But it still hits me like new, sometimes, how truly amazing his music is. Amazing. The fun, cool accent he has on random words. (Example: When he says “or as simple as do, re, mi,” and he makes a whole new world combining “or” with “as.” I’ve got a million of these examples. He did it as a kid. He did it as an adult. He’s just cool and creative.)

And the engineering! Give Bruce Swedien a Grammy. You don’t need to, actually, ’cause they already did (five times). And the producing, obviously. Quincy Jones is one of my heroes (and the reason I went to Berklee (Quincy’s alma mater) and majored in his major (Music Production and Engineering).)

Do you remember how amazing it was when you first watched the Earth Song video and all that wind came at Michael Jackson, and he sang while clutching the trees? I loved it. I love it still.

Back to MJ – inflections, emotions, accents, lyrical content, rhythm – Michael Jackson’s got it going on. I’m so everything toward him all at once – crazy jealous, crazy inspired, crazy angry and devastated over his death – everything. All of it. If there’s an emotion to be had in the universe, I probably feel it toward or about him.

You know what else I forget about him sometimes? How many amazing, incredible songs he has. So many. So very, very many. “Earth Song”. Yeah, do you remember that? “Another Part of Me”. Oh, yeah. (Do you remember Captain EO?) I’ve got a million of these examples as well.

So, I’m walking along at the back of the pack, rocking out hardcore. (He is honestly so good. It hurts.)

And this is where I’ll pick up with actual race stuff and (not just love toward Michael Jackson) tomorrow.

p.s. I warned you in the title that that is really all just about Michael Jackson, so don’t be too mad that that’s what you just read about.

(#20) Rock ‘n’ Roll Seattle (June 23, 2012) – Part 3 (I’m Quasimodo of the Full/Half Split)

July 8, 2012

Picking up from yesterday,

I don’t know if you remember this, but I had originally signed up to run the full marathon back before I decided to subject myself to a trail marathon (the previous weekend) as my first one. So, I had a marathon bib.

In the Rock ‘n’ Roll series, if you decide you want to do the half instead of the full, you can just run the half. They’ll adjust you in the results. They confirmed that for me in the morning when I got my bib, saying it was no big deal.

They were right. It wasn’t a big deal as far as the results were concerned, but it did bring embarrassing moments along the course. There was an extremely well marked area where the half marathon split off from the full. There must have been a million signs:

Full marathoners, get in the right lane.

Hey full marathoners, I know we just told you, but in case you didn’t hear us, right lane.

What’s up, full marathoners? You in the right lane yet?

Hey, all you cool cats doing the full! If you could just jump in the right lane when you get a chance…. If you’re not there yet, don’t sweat it. We’ve got about 100 more signs over the next 800 feet, so we got you.

And on and on and on they went. (Of course the signs weren’t really that wordy, but that was the gist of what they were saying.)

There I am in my bright yellow bib, continuing to walk in the left lane. Please, pay no attention to me. I’m just a girl wearing a bib as bright as the sun who’d like to stay on the blue bib side.

I felt like one of those people who hide away in caves and bell towers and things in dramatic stories/fairy tales – I know I’m a monster. Please, don’t look at me!

As if the signs weren’t enough, there were also people on bullhorns shouting out where to go.

Okay Seattle, I get it. The cool people are going to the right. I’m dressed up like one of them, but I’m just a fraud. I’m not as cool as they are. Get over it. (99% of the time when I say “get over it,” I’m talking to myself.)

I know that in truth no one was hassling me. Not even one bit. Most likely, no one was even looking at me.

I somehow survived the awkward split. Later, when we got to the highway portion, I was elated. I don’t know what it is about highways, but I love running on them. I saw a few people, without bibs, running in the opposite direction of the rest of us. I liked to imagine that they saw the race, realized the highway was closed, and slammed on their brakes. They proceeded to jump out of their cars and run toward the road screaming, “Hey look! The highway’s open for running!” (It probably didn’t happen that way, but it would be cool if it did.)

This group was fun and energetic

Seattle was a fun city to run through with cute landmarks and great running weather. It rained, but not ’til after I’d finished the race.

Once I finished, I made my way to the cook kids booth for my super special medals, and walked out wearing 3(!) – the one for the race itself, the Pacific Peaks medal for doing Seattle and Portland in the same year, and the Rock Legend medal for doing 7 RnRs in one year.

Clang, clang, clang. I made tons of noise everywhere I went.

My uncle picked me up. I had a quick dinner with him and our family. Before you knew it, I was back on a plane. A whirlwind trip of less than 24 hours. Goodbye, gorgeous Seattle!

(#20) Rock ‘n’ Roll Seattle (June 23, 2012) – Part 2 (Race Photographs)

July 7, 2012

Aurora De Lucia dancing
Stock screenshot of me dancing (since you missed my dancing during the race).

Yesterday, I left off seeing a photographer as I was mid-dance.

I looked at the pictures when they came out. I narrowly escaped being caught in an awkward dance-walk.

Sometimes I kind of forget that I’m not alone during these half marathons.

Obviously I do know that I’m not alone. I do my best to be courteous to other runners. I stay in the correct lanes. I only do things as silly as dancing, when I’m way in the back of the pack and no one’s close to me. But it never really dawns on me that there are other human beings around who aren’t so absorbed in their own world that they may notice the crazy, dancing girl.

So be it, though, right? There almost certainly could never be enough dancing in the world. As long as I’m not in their way, It doesn’t really matter if a stranger thinks I’m weird or crazy. In fact, that’s probably pretty par for the course as far as what strangers usually think of me on any given day. (Yes, I dance-walk in Hollywood all the time.) Sometimes (most times) you just gotta dance! It’s part of life, I think.

Except when you see the photographer. Race photographers have magical powers – they bring speed to the people around them. Every time I notice a photographer, I try to look as though I have an awesome stride. Then I melt back down into walking the moment I pass them. Sometimes in this race, it’d be a total fake out. There’d be a photographer hiding fifty feet past the one you just tried to impress. Golly, if they keep up this pattern, I’m actually going to have to run this half marathon!

runners on the highway during the Rock n Roll Seattle Marathon 2012

One time I was on my phone, checking my email or something. (I did say yesterday that I was only there to saunter this one, after all.) I looked up and got a bit flustered when I saw a photographer. “Agh! I’m supposed to be pretending I know how to run whenever I see a photog!” Then I noticed he was checking his phone as well. Oh, 2012.

Catapulting back to the beginning of the story for a second, I always think the difference at these big races, between the feeling at the start and 8 seconds after the start, is so funny. At the start, there’s party music, stages, emcees on the mic, and tons of spectators. 8 seconds later, you’re far enough in front of the speakers that the music has all but faded away. The roar of the spectators has quieted to a murmur, and the emcees are busy entertaining the corral behind you.

It’s the biggest 8 second party with thousands of guests. (Sometimes there’s confetti and/or fireworks!). Then pretty much immediately cut off. Sort of. I mean, 13.1 miles is a party in itself. But the change is so sudden. I just find it funny, is all.

Let’s jump even further back in time to the packet pick-up.

(I know I’m doing an exceptional job with my linear, chronological storytelling today. Please don’t blame me too much. Between the marathon the weekend before and the superhuman stress I endured during my improv class, I’m surprised I’ve retained the ability to speak the English language, let alone try to piece together a story.)

I didn’t get to go to the expo on Friday. I was sort of bummed because I love expos, but obviously I could not miss my final improv class. Way too much was riding on it.

I knew that I’d be able to pick up my bib the morning of; I’d seen and heard of plenty of people do it before (even though they say you can’t). I’d heard rumors that it would cost $40, or might be a hard process with arguments. But no. It was just like the expo, only it seemed even smoother.

(Even though this is common knowledge in the running world, I hope I’m not spoiling some secret by putting it on this blog. I would never want to ruin the awesome, day-of packet pick-up for anyone in the future. However, I really don’t think it is a true secret at all, which is why I don’t feel bad writing about it. We all do know that it’s possible to get your bib the morning of at the Solutions tent, right?)

I’ll pick up here (or somewhere) tomorrow. Ish.

(#20) Rock ‘n’ Roll Seattle (June 23, 2012) – Part 1 (My Brain Trying To Eat Itself)

July 6, 2012

Finally!

Why is the date in the title of this post? So none of us get confused. This is a story from almost two weeks ago.

(I know. I’m sorry. For the past two weeks, I couldn’t think about a single other thing is this world besides improv. Therefore, I couldn’t even begin to write about running until I wrote out some of my unending (and wildly varying) feelings and emotions on improv. And I couldn’t write about improv until I had time to digest the whole thing, and work it all out.

I guess that’s what happens when you’re writing a continual, never-ending story about your life (a.k.a. this blog) – sometimes your life events are a little too much for your brain to process – let alone for your brain to try to share with other people. So, thanks for sticking with me. If you did. If you didn’t, sorry again. (Although, if you didn’t, you’re not reading this right now, anyway.))

The day after my big, humongous, life-changing (year-changing, at least) day of passing Basic at the Groundlings, I got to celebrate with this half marathon. Thank goodness, ’cause there’s nothing like 13.1 miles to deal with your feelings on something. Or at least try to. My first mile was my victory mile. I lightly jogged with my head held high. “I’m in Intermediate now, suckas! Watch me go!” I felt overwhelming, single-tear inducing joy as the news continued to sink in.

But the more it sank in, the more I really thought about it. And the more I thought about it, the more I was able to turn this (overall) good news into troubling news. (Now that you’re getting to know me a little better on this blog, you’re beginning to find out precisely how crazy I am over the things that really mean something to me, huh?)

The second mile was more a “What a tiny victory that was” mile. The third was a “Was that actually a victory at all?” mile. These were followed by the “Yeah, that definitely wasn’t a victory at all,” “Kevin for sure hates you, and passed you super begrudgingly,” and “You definitely don’t belong in Intermediate. Who do you think you are?” miles.

My brain continued to eat itself for the majority of the course. I went over every second of the final evaluation – well, every second of it I could remember, at least. I thought about what he’d said. What I’d said. I went through every scene, and every game from the second half of the semester. I thought about all the things I should’ve done differently.

I tried to pinpoint all of the things that made him think the second half was markedly worse than the first. Worse, I understood for sure. But that much worse? Was it really? I continued to pick every class apart and try to find the answer, until I got to the “my body is so tired as is my mind. I really need to try to not think about this for at least a little while” mile. I didn’t reach this point until probably mile 11ish.

(Don’t worry, for you sweethearts out there. No need to console me. Between the race and now, my craziness has been successfully calmed. For the most part. (I mean, I did pass after all!))

I “ran” really, super slowly in the half marathon today. Who am I kidding? I “walked” super slowly. I use the word “walk” in quotation marks, because I went so slowly that I don’t know if you can even call it walking. I finished in 4:11:59.

I had no speed goals for this half. I was coming off of a “marathon” (lots of word in quotes today…) the previous week. (basically a 26.2 mile hike that I completed way slower than any normal marathoner would’ve). Plus, I had a half marathon coming up in a different state the following day. I figured I’d give my body a break. I had a nice little jog for the first mile, then I pretty much sauntered the rest of the race.

So, I’m doing my best to quiet my chattering brain and lose my thoughts in music. I’m walking on my merry way, with my upper body dancing its heart out. I’m doing this sort of forward shoulder roll/pulling stomach in move, a few times over, pretty quickly in succession. I’m pretty sure that’s the standard reaction when “Baptize Me” from The Book of Mormon comes on your iPod. Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I see a photographer. Awkward.

This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow with all the parts of the race that don’t relate to improv. (I know, I know. About time, right?)

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 4 (The “I Imploded” Chapter)

July 5, 2012

screen of Homer's computer at the Springfield Nuclear Power Plant Picking up from yesterday –

I crashed and burned so hard in the second half of class. So hard.

Beginning with that fateful Tuesday class (and all the bawling my eyes out that followed), I flamed out.
For the final three classes, I either didn’t go (that Thursday), or I showed up late (both times the following week).

Of course, that is a horrible attitude to take. I may have been pretty sure that I’d ruined all of my chances of passing, but there were still things to learn. I guess more than anything, I was so embarrassed. I didn’t really have a desire to show my face anymore. Or to ruin other people’s scenes by, you know, being there.

“But wait. Aurora! This doesn’t sound like the girl that we know,” says any of you who used to know me back when I was fiery and cool (and blindly ambitious).

big red/yellow flame explosion cloud over Springfield on the Simpsons

Yeah, I know. Trust me. I’ve been reflecting a lot over the past few weeks. And this was not the girl you knew. Chin up, though. The girl in this story gets a little better toward the next time she takes Basic.

In sort of my defense (even though I don’t deserve one); at the end of that Basic that I took with Jordan, I started a new job as an Assistant Editor on Swamp People. It was hard to make Basic work with my new schedule. Sure, I could’ve made it work, had I made it a priority. But I didn’t. I cringed at the thought of walking through the door to the school.

On the last day, we get our final evaluations. I wanted to at least say goodbye to Jordan, thank him for being such an amazing teacher, and apologize profusely for imploding.

There’s a surprising amount of freedom in an evaluation when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are not going to pass. Obviously, it sucks in the sense that I was a big, fat failure. But it was fun in the sense of no nerves. I could go in all smiles and laughs with Jordan, and make fun of myself for being the horrible, horrendous improviser that I was.

This is how I imagine I laughed and laughed at myself.

I laughed off my miserable performance. With a knowing smile on my face – knowing that it was the silliest idea to try improv in the first place – I said, “I should probably just forget it, shouldn’t I?”

He said, “No.”

(Semi-dramatic pause.)

I was so sure that he was going to say, “Yeah, obviously” (most likely in a nicer way, but nonetheless).

Instead, he said, “No. Don’t just forget it. Take Basic again. I really think you can pass next time. If you believe in yourself.”

It’s possible that that’s the “feel better spiel” he gives everyone, but it seemed quite genuine. So, I choose to feel special.

Thank goodness Jordan had such blind faith in me, and thank goodness I overcame my deep embarrassment long enough to go in and say goodbye. I almost certainly would’ve completely given up on improv had it not been for him. (I mean, come on. Who do I think I am?)

It was almost as though I had permission to think that improv was something I could do, if Jordan said it was. This is where I’ll pick up next time.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Back to the present day: I’m realizing this story is taking way longer to tell than I anticipated. (I know I’m giving you way more backstory and details than are necessary, so that’s part of it. (The biggest part of it – all of it, really)

Lisa Simpson, looking up, impatient, hands on hips
Aurora, are you ever gonna talk about running again, or what?

Improv has become really important (and often all-consuming) to me. So, I feel this incessant need to talk about every detail. (Sorry.)

I know that many of you read this blog to hear about running. And  I know I’ve have two races from two(!) weeks ago that I have yet to talk about. So, tomorrow, I’ll pause the improv story, and move on to Rock ‘n’ Roll Seattle. (I shouldn’t get any further behind on running events (especially when I have another one coming up this weekend!).)

I said that you needed to know the story of improv before you heard about my races from that weekend. Really, the only information you need is that I passed Basic, but just barely.

(In case anyone is interested in the story of my improv classes, and the terrifying day when I passed by… I don’t know, a margin of something so small you can’t even see it – I’ll be working my way back to this story after catching up with running. (Yay!))

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 13 (Recap/Coming Back from the Tangent)

July 4, 2012

lines by circle with tangent and secant labeled
The story is in here somewhere (Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons (I think…))

It’s Wednesday night, so this series continues.

Picking up from last week –

I’ve been going on a tangent for a bit…

To recap for anyone lost (or anyone new):

June/July 2009 – Started feeling really sick – sicker than any sick I’d been before
August 2009 – Saw a doctor who said give it time. Waited for a follow-up.
October 2009 – Passed out in class. Taken to an ER. Abnormal EKG. Diagnosed with Wolff-Parkinson-White. First (unsuccessful) ablation.
Later October 2009 – Back to the hospital, the dosage of medicine I’d been given seemed too high. Kept for overnight observation.

And that’s where we left off – October 30, 2009, spending the night in the hops.

While I was there, I complained about my stomach hurting, but didn’t make that huge of a stink. Though, if you’re polite and meek about it, I don’t know that people really blink an eye at your stomach pain when they’re working on your heart problem.

I got out of the hospital on the 31st, and headed to New York. On November 1st, I started work bright and early on America’s Got Talent. They easily forgave me for missing a day. This wasn’t like the theater that “forgave me,” while actually being pretty (understandably) unhappy (having to scramble to get someone to sub in for me).

(The only bit of comfort I can take about missing a show, is that I guarantee you, at the time, I was angrier at myself than anyone could’ve been at me.) At AGT, they had more than enough people and a back-up list if necessary. Surprisingly, there honestly didn’t seem to be any hard feelings whatsoever (even if I was holding a fair amount of guilt).

Since I was in a situation with my heart where I knew the problem, but not the best solution yet, some co-workers gave me great advice on getting second opinions and what to do if anything happened again.

Both times I’d been in an ambulance thus far, the drivers asked me where I wanted to go – which I remember thinking was such an odd question. What is this, a cab? The hospital. The hospital is where to go.

Cartoon ambulance driver)
Where to, miss?
Um, the hospital?
(Photo credit: Inmagine.com

There are a bunch of hospitals in Boston. I guess you get your choice, if you have a preference.

I’d started to do research, now that the hospital was something I actually thought about in my day-to-day life. (Weird, right?)

After reading a fair amount, it seemed as though Mass General was the place to go.

I guess this is common knowledge to pretty much everyone but me. Anyone I ever talked to knew that MGH is often referred to as “Man’s Greatest Hospital” (instead of Massachusetts General Hospital).

So much for being prepared for my first ambulance ride. How was I to know (and be prepared for that situation)?

I loved Tufts, and there were a lot of great things about it. But since I had such a rare condition, and since I just wanted it to be done and over with, my co-workers convinced me to look into getting a second opinion at Mass Gen.

I put that on my to-do list, though I really had no idea how you go about getting in with doctors at a specific hospital. This idea of cardiologists and health problems was way out of my circle of knowledge. But, it’s okay. I’m smart and have the internet. I’m sure I can figure it out.

However, I never had to figure it out. I could barely concentrate on anything after I got home from New York. My stomach pain was getting way worse. I pretty much hadn’t eaten for the past few days, and the idea of eating was becoming progressively more repulsive with every day that passed. I couldn’t make the stomach pain go away.

And this is where I’ll pick up next week.

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 3 (The “Did Jordan Really Say I Was Funny? Well, Let Me Just Psych Myself Out, Then” Chapter)

July 3, 2012

Lisa Simpson in a pink dress, rubbing her arm, looking touched I left off yesterday with Jordan telling me I was funny.

I know, right? I’m not over it either.

I proceeded to psych myself out. Hardcore.

Let me tell you what happened. My biggest note from Jordan, in my midterm, was confidence. Biggest, number 1, most important note. “Aurora. I swear, if you do not jump in earlier on exercises and games – and make me believe that you think you deserve to be on the stage improv-ing every time you’re up there – I will kick you out of this program.” That’s not actually how Jordan talks. At all.

He didn’t threaten to kick me out of the program. That’s just my brain amplifying it. Jordan is so funny and kind. My evaluation was phrased in a sweeter way, but still. Confidence was my key to being a better improviser. And it was my number one note from him.

I was determined to listen and surprise him with a change in the second half of the semester. I wanted him to know that I heard him, and could take a note.

In the following class after my midterm, we played some game where everybody had to participate. I don’t know, Follow the Leaver, or Freeze Tag, or something.

I was watching intently, waiting to jump in. There’s the problem. Waiting. Oh boy. Of course Jordan called me out it. “Aurora, what are you waiting for? Get in there!”

Switch.

That was my brain switching from a somewhat helpful, productive part of me to an eating-itself doubting machine.

Lisa Simpson making her d'oh face (slapping forehead)Brain: “Aurora. You had one main note. One. One thing, more than any of the smaller notes, was the main focus. The one thing you couldn’t forget. Jordan told you to be more confident, and then in the very next class he has to call you out for being one of the last people to jump into a game? Well, you’ve really ruined it big time now, missy. You know what Jordan’s gonna think, don’t you? ‘That girl can’t even take a note. She goes in the opposite direction of the note. She can’t even listen. What kind of actress – what kind of person is she?'”

As my brain ate itself, every scene and exercise got worse for the rest of class. For some reason, that day, we did about a million. I got worse with each one. I was like an out of control train, hurdling toward a cliff of failure. I couldn’t be stopped. I was deteriorating by the second. By the end of the class, I’d almost forgotten how to speak English or stand up.

I had tears right behind my eyes toward the end. You know – when you know a good cry is coming on quite soon, but right before your eyes get red. That tiny moment where you may be the only person around you who realizes you’re about to sob it all out.

Yet there was still one more game. Holy goodness, how is it not 6:30 yet? It feels like I’ve been trapped in this room for 3 1/2 years! How are 3 1/2 hours not up? I somehow successfully (and I use the word “successfully” quite loosely) made it through the final exercise without having a complete meltdown.

Finally I was free. I ran out of the room – not in the “draw attention myself, I’m about to explode” way, but in the “oh, I’m just quickly leaving because I totally have some place to be, of course” way. As soon as I was out the door of the school, I turned the corner and tears started streaming down my face.

What did I just do to myself?

I came from sub-mediocrity to possible future improviser in a short three weeks, just to plummet way below sub-mediocrity to sub-human being in one class. I quietly cried on the bus on the way home, and continued to cry once I got there.

Homer Simpson face down, banged up and bloody after falling down Springfield Gorge

In reality in that first game, he was just giving a note. He didn’t call me out anymore than he did anyone else. He was totally right to call me out on it. I’m sure he moved on in a nanosecond. (It was a warm up game, by golly.) I didn’t need to get stuck in time right then. I’m sure he didn’t.

He’s an excellent teacher. For sure, it wasn’t anything he did to cause my total plummeting off of that failure cliff. He did not push me off of it. I fell (jumped?). (He’s the kind of helpful teacher that was probably even trying to belay me in this climbing analogy-ish. But alas, I was beyond saving.)

(It sounds sad-ish, but I hope you’re reading it in a lighthearted manner. Everything’s gonna work out okay, so we can all laugh about it now.) The story continues on Thursday!

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 2 (The “First Class to the Midterm” Chapter)

July 2, 2012

I left of yesterday having passed the audition to get into Basic.

(I think I neglected to mention that we’re taking a little blast to the recent past. I passed back the in early fall of 2010.)

Don’t get too terribly excited about my passing the audition. I saw it as a victory, and it was exciting for sure. But that’s not the hard part. Lots of people pass the audition. Nothing to see here. Yet.

Once you get into Basic, your audition results are good for a year. Fast forward from fall 2010 to late summer 2011. I had moved back to California after some time in gorgeous New York.

One day, I thought, “You know, I need theater to breathe and function. I’m living out here in Los Angeles again. For real, this time. I signed a lease and everything. I won’t be picking up and moving to New York tomorrow. Probably not, at least.” (Writing this from a year later, I haven’t left yet.) “My Groundlings Basic audition results are still good if I sign up for a class that starts within the next four or five weeks. I better get on it, then!”

You don’t pick your teachers at the Groundlings. On the first day of class – surprise! I walked in having no idea who the teacher would be or what he or she would be like. Sure enough – Hello! I get this super energetic, hilariously funny teacher that has the kind of aura that energizes everyone in the room. This is gonna be fun.

Jordan is a spectacular teacher. He’s absolutely hysterically hilarious, not to mention a total sweetheart. He’s also the perfect audience member. He is always so engaged in what’s going on. And he has the absolute best laugh/reactions. In the universe. If you say something he thinks is funny, you know it.

A note of unnecessary backstory that you may feel free to skip:

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

This is not important to the main story, but I want to make sure that it doesn’t seem as though I’m skirting the truth here. This was technically my first time through Basic. However, I had been to a few Basic classes before.

Way back in the fall of 2010 (Remember? That time I passed my audition), I had just wrapped America’s Got Talent. With my newfound excessive free time ( – free time often seems pretty super excessive when you wrap a PA job – ) I was looking for something to make Los Angeles more tolerable. Of course, theater has a tendency to make anything tolerable. So, I started a Basic class. I had Guy, another super fun, super positive teacher. My classmates were fun. I loved it.

But I was dying on the west coast – not literally dying. Well, maybe. The sun is pretty harsh and out to get you.

I wanted desperately to go back home to Boston or New York. The job that brought me out here was over. My current sublet was coming to an end. Why was I still here? I decided on a whim to pick up and leave (and go to the greatest city in the world).

Bye!

(That’s a whole ‘nother story that you’ll hear later in the heart story chapters, when they transition from the end of the heart business to the time between open-heart surgery and the start of the blog).

Since I was joyously fleeing the state, I dropped my class before we even got to midterms. I was so sad to drop so soon after I’d started. But as much as I was enjoying my class, I could not justify staying in scorchingly sunny (and more adjectives to be told another time) California for one more second, just so I could have seven hours of weekly playtime. (At the time, it was playtime; now, it’s more. We’re getting there later this story.)

As far as the three strikes rule at the Groundlings is concerned (that you can only not pass a class three times before you’re out of the program), my record was still clean (since I had dropped the one I’d begun). So, when I’m telling the current story of the “first” time I took Basic, it’s technically the first, and it’s technically not the first, depending on how you look at it.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Back to fall 2011 – Jordan’s class.

I couldn’t even wait to hear what Jordan had to say in my midterm. I braced myself. I was ready for a barrage of his concerns and complaints.

And he said I was funny.

Me. Funny.

Me.

What?

Of course he had his constructive criticism as well. I mean, come on now. But he made really me believe I had potential to be good at improv.

Me. Good at improv.

Me.

What?

Possible? Impossible? More on this tomorrow.

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 1 (The “Freak Out, I Passed” Chapter)

July 1, 2012

Some alums/current members of the Groundlings main company. Much love. Much hilarity.

Before we talk about the most recent half marathons, I have to share my (record scratch)

hu.mongous. news.

I passed Basic at the Groundlings.

That didn’t get an exclamation point ’cause I’m still in shock. I’m looking at you with my super wide, barely-believing eyes, smiling a little more throughout the sentence as I say it to you super slowly. When you read it, imagine that I’m taking my time on every word so that I can try to let me and you take in this insane, factual statement.

I passed.

A lot of you who aren’t in LA don’t know what I’m talking about. Fear not. We’re about to talk about it. (A lot.)

Before I get to the whole explanation of the school and my experience there (so far), let me answer a couple of quick questions:

1) Why are you letting your half marathon posts get pushed back so very far – why don’t you just tell us story this after you post about Seattle and Arroyo Creek?

You need this information to hear about those races. A fairly big part of my thoughts and feelings during those races revolve around this.

2) If this is the biggest news in your universe right now, and you found out on June 22nd, why are you waiting until now to tell us about it? Shouldn’t you have interrupted all other posts much sooner to bring us the scoop?

Yes, maybe. But, if you happen to stick with me to the end of the story you’ll see why it took me oh so long to process this, and why the story wasn’t fully resolved until late last night (making it so that I couldn’t post about it until today).

Back to explaining things:

I take improv classes at a theatre school out here called “The Groundlings.” For the past six weeks (ramping up to especially the last couple of weeks), I have done practically nothing but live and breathe improv.

I practiced. I went to shows. I let improv eat every single thought in my mind.

I wanted to talk to you about it every single day, since it was enveloping my life. (I don’t know how I did anything else. Well, I barely did do anything else.) But I didn’t want to say anything here in case I didn’t pass my class.

There are four main levels at the Groundlings – Basic, Intermediate, Writing Lab, and Advanced.

From what I’ve heard, barely anyone makes it through them all without having to repeat somewhere along the lines. (Barely anyone makes it through them all, period.) There is no shame in repeating. And I was repeating.

You only get three chances to pass Basic as well as Intermediate (and only one chance for the last two). While there is no shame in repeating, there certainly can be fear, since you’re using up one of your three precious tries.

I took Basic back in September of last year. I pretty much did it as an excuse to interact with other human beings, and to have some fun onstage again. (I miss theater with every bone in my body.)

I don’t think anyone (including me) has ever thought of me as much of a comedienne. Being funny was never my thing, per se.

Not that I think I’m devoid of the ability to be funny. I was just more known for singing (and maybe dancing a little). (Yes, I know a lot of musicals are comedies – but not the ones I was in!)

In high school, I was terrible at improv. Awful. A mess onstage. I would count the seconds until I got to sit safely back in the audience, and dread the moments I had to get up onstage again.

Yes, I know that’s an odd sentence to read on my blog – a time when I didn’t want to be on a stage? That can’t be right, can it? I love being onstage. Give me a score, and I will do my best to sing my face off for you. Put me up there and give me a suggestion? Uh oh.

I do hate being bad at things. Since I happen to be out here with access to The Groundlings, which is such an amazing school, I thought, “Why not at least try to get a little better? Improv is part of life.” So I tried. I auditioned for Basic, and made it in (somehow).

I’ll pick up here tomorrow.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 12 (I’m Beginning to Fall Apart, Thank Goodness I Had Her)

June 27, 2012

Lisa wearing a cowboy hat, sitting in front of her substitue teacher, Mr. Bergstrom
This picture’s here to set the mood for a post on the greatest teacher. (Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

Picking up from last week –

I literally squealed with delight when I opened up this draft and realized I’m starting with high school stuff.

I’m sure you’re saying, “We get it! You were amazing in high school. Get over it, or be amazing, again.” Well, I’m gonna do my best to be amazing again.

I’ve been spending a lot (read: too much) time reflecting lately, between my recent birthday passing by and my 1 year anniversary of moving to LA (shivers) coming up.

So, the blog might be seeming a little more high school heavy, even for me. Sorry. Too many thoughts. We’ll get through it.

Anyway, last week I was talking about my most amazing teacher in the universe, and how I adore her. She really instilled a crazy (wonderful) work ethic in me. I worked in the theater on Valentine’s Day, Memorial Day, Easter… I didn’t have a desire to be anywhere else. It was never a sacrifice, because what was I sacrificing if there was nowhere I’d rather be?

Selfie of Aurora and her high school theater teacher sitting on a red couch
This is me and her well after open heart surgery. (Photo added to this post later.)

In my years there, I learned that no matter happens, you get your butt to that theater. I had mono when I was in the chorus of My Fair Lady. School rule: You had to go to four classes to be allowed to perform at night.

So, I’d go sleep through 4 classes. During the show I’d lay in the corner until it was time for a number. Then I’d dance my feet off while making humongous facial expressions. (Go ahead and watch the tapes!) As soon as a number was over, I’d go shut down until the next one.

Unless you are literally dying right now, there’s an audience that needs to be entertained.

One of my very first thoughts when I was in the hospital missing my first show was, “What is my high school theater teacher going to think of me?”

I was truly stressed about it – labored breathing, darting eyes and thoughts stressed. She taught me so well. Is this circumstance extenuating enough? I’m not literally dying right now.

A tired Marge hugging Lisa Simpson
Thank you. I desperately needed to be comforted, and you always know the exact right thing to say. (Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

Thankfully, we talked on the phone a lot throughout my whole ordeal, and the first time that I caught her up to speed – commencing a complete and total freak out/meltdown – she let me know that it was okay, and even she would be in the hospital instead of at the show.

She’s as close to perfect as you’re gonna get. So, if she would be in the hospital, I felt I could be okay with it.

She then shared with me a few stories of extenuating circumstances through the years where people would learn their lines from hospital beds. Okay, I’m not so alone.

(Some of these paragraphs may be more for me than for you, trying to convince myself that I’m maybe not weak. It can be hard… The first time I missed a show was the first time I realized – maybe I’m not as strong as I used to be.)

There’s more to come as far as realizations of how weak, or strong, or different I am (/was), but that’s for later. For now, I let’s jump back in to where we were chronologically. The story continues next week.

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 8

June 24, 2012

Picking up from yesterday –

As I came toward the finish area, a woman was walking toward me and said, “Are you Aurora?” I said, “Yeah, why?” “Your parents are so excited.” Oh geez. I wonder what they’ve been saying for the past few hours. (She was looking for her friend, not me, so she kept on going as did I in the opposite direction.)

As I got closer (within earshot of spectators), I yelled out “I’m here!” My parents and their new friends scrambled around to hold up posters, cheer, and take pictures. I ran on through over 15 hours(!) after I’d started.

I met the new group of people my parents had made friends with. We posed for a few pictures. My dad broke the news to me that they’d run out of marathon medals.

I’d had the fleeting thought many hours earlier that they would probably run out of medals before I got there. However, one of my dad’s new friends, Mike, made a very sweet gesture – giving me his medal. (Since it was my first marathon, he didn’t want me to have to go home empty-necked). I tried to refuse; I was willing to wait for one in the mail. But he was sweet and insistent, so I didn’t turn away kindness. (Don’t worry about Mike. They’re mailing him one.)

Before we left (and at least twenty minutes after I’d come into the finish), the people who were timing the race asked if I remembered when I came in. They’d forgotten to mark it down when I’d finished. I had no concept of anything at that time, so they just guessed. So, my finish time isn’t accurate to the second (or probably even the minute).

Officially, I finished in 15:12:15. When your first marathon takes over 15 hours, does it matter if it’s 15:12 or 15:02 or 15:32? No it does not.

The race director giving me the medal for the Mohican Marathon 2012
The race director putting the medal on me. I have no idea what that face that I’m giving is about.

A few days later, once the results came out, I realized I was 3rd in the 18-24 year old women category! Fun fact, right? Obviously, since I was also dead last, there were only 3 women in that category who finished. (There was one more who DNF’d (did not finish).)

There was no prize or official recognition for being “3rd” (read: last) in my age group. In big marathons, there are extra prizes and medals for those categories. (In big marathons, I would never come in the top three in my age group, so I’m certainly not saying I actually deserve one.) In this marathon, there were so few people that practically everyone probably came in the top 3 in their age group.

However, I’m still going to think it’s super cool, even if it’s just a little unofficial fact I found by going through the results… of which you could read every name and age… because it was a teeny race… And I was third in my age group (in the imaginary world where they split it up the way the Rock ‘n’ Roll series and others do)! Yee haw!

Note: If you have been detoured at all from reading this entry, that’s not my purpose. Do a marathon! They are fun. Running is amazing. Just, you know, get your sleep. And run on your preferred surface.

When I made it back to my parents house, my mom had even had a cake made for my first marathon. Aww.

I gave my entire family specific instructions not to wake me up for any reason, under any circumstance. I really wanted to sleep for about 24 hours.

Sure enough, in the early afternoon the next day, my dad and sister come bounding into the room.

Come on, y’all!

I know it’s Father’s Day. And I know I had about 12 hours of sleep. But 12 is not enough!

cake celebrating Aurora's first marathon. (Her face is on the cake)
Marathon cake

I wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but they were going to the new Adam Sandler movie (That’s My Boy)! I don’t care what anyone says (too many Adam Sandler haters on the internet). It looked funny. It was hilarious. I really wanted to see it, so I rolled out of bed and went.

My body was all, “oh, you want to mess with me? I was willing to let you pull an all-nighter and traipse through the woods all day. You made me believe I would get to sleep if I got you through it! Yet you’re foregoing precious, precious sleep for a movie that you could watch anytime? It’s on now, girl!”

Now I have a cold. And I’m forever blaming my dad for waking me up. Until I get better. Which by the looks of it will be never.

Another race in the books (interwebs). It’s official. I’m a marathoner. Ish.

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 7

June 23, 2012

Aurora laughing at something, standing by her dad at her first Marathon - Mohican Marathon 2012 Picking up from yesterday –

Going back to the race (away from random thoughts), I jumped back in, having gone 15.4 miles. (Can you believe I was only 15.4 miles in?) I decided to walk somewhat speedily, and not take any breaks for the next 5.5 miles.

I just wanted to get to the next aid station. Once I made it to that one, it was the last one I’d hit before the end of the race.

I passed Fred, this incredibly funny man. I was listening to him talk to other people, doing a sort of a mini-stand-up routine through the woods. I don’t remember a single thing he said, but I do remember laughing. Of course, I’m pretty sure I was delirious at that point. But I’m also pretty sure he was actually funny.

I’m somehow made it (not making completely terrible time) to the next aid station. I was so ready to just fall asleep there and start up again in the morning. But I couldn’t do that. I mean, I could technically. There was a 36-hour time limit. But a full-on nap was really gonna make it feel like it wasn’t a full marathon.

I was gearing myself up to go those final 6 miles, when I couldn’t believe my eyes. Hector, a man I met at a race in California, happened to be coming out of the woods to this aid station/rest stop place in this tiny little race in a very small town in Ohio.

What are you doing here?

Aurora and her daddy with the "Enjoy Yourself" poster at the Mohican Marathon 2012
A picture from a slightly less cranky time.

He was about to do his last lap of the 50-miler, and he graciously said he wanted to walk with me for the rest of the way. And let me tell you, I was slow. Slow and cranky.

Usually, I like to crack jokes, and sing, and have so much fun during races. I was so done. I was pretty quiet for the next 4 or so miles. And so very, very slow. I wasn’t always sure how I was going to be able to put one foot in front of the other, but somehow I kept moving my feet forward.

If I was quiet for the next 4 miles, but there were 6 miles left, what was I doing for the last 2, you wonder?

Complaining. I tried not to complain that much. He had done way more miles than I had. And he was being the biggest sweetheart by sticking with me. But sometimes words just came out of mouth. Because it hurt. And by it, I mean everything. Every single thing. From my toes to my brain to every single thing on, in, or around my body.

Hector just kept saying he wouldn’t leave me, which was incredibly sweet. The sun went down as we walked, and that light from my parents (from the stranger) came in handy.

The last few miles were the hardest. I’ve hit on this point before in this series about the marathon, but it was torture because nothing was changing. It was trails followed by more trails followed by more trails. Usually in a race, you see the mile markers. You can start counting down to the end. You see crowds. You see streets. You see things that help you to know you’re moving forward. But here…

Aurora finishing the Mohican Marathon (very blurry photo)
Sorry, I know it’s quite blurry, but here’s the finish!

Am I moving forward? Backward? Sideways? Where am I? Am I ever going to get out of here? Nothing is changing. Nothing. Is. Changing. I’m going to die in this forest today.

Somehow – who knows how – we made it off the trail. Oh my gosh, we must be getting close now!

Well, we miss one of our arrows and end up walking through a trailer park. We don’t go too terribly far out of our way, but even a step seems far at this point. I finally understand what people are talking about in half marathons when I pass people complaining about their legs feeling numb. We get back around, find the arrow, and make our way ever closer to the finish line.

Once we finally get to the place where we can see, I start up a little jog. I want to cross it already! We’re off a trail, meaning I have the ability to run again.

Hector tells me to bring it home. And this is where I’ll finish up tomorrow.

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 6 (Random Thoughts on the Race)

June 22, 2012

Aurora De Lucia tying her shoe at her first marathon - Mohican Marathon 2012 Picking up from yesterday –

My dad was really antsy to get me back on the trail. I understand and all. I mean, I do want to finish before the day is over.

And I don’t want to take breaks that are too terribly long. I am trying to do a full marathon here, and I want it to at least sort of feel like one. (Which it does in the sense that my legs are killing me!)

I slipped on a different pair of shoes for a change of pace (one of the perks of having your own supporters with a van). I drank a whole bunch of water and Gatorade (yet again from my prepared super team – the race served Heed instead of Gatorade).

Finally, I slowly made my way back out on the course. In this one area, there was only about a mile until the next stop. (The stop where I currently was wasn’t an official stop. It was just a place where the trail met a parking lot, and people gathered).

My mom actually jumped on the trail and went the mile with me, which made it go faster. Thankfully for everybody, it was, for the most part, the easiest, flattest mile out there (other than the hill going down to start it off).

The next aid station was the last time I got to see my parents until the end of the race, which at this rate we figured would be sometime on Thursday.

A few more random thoughts from the day:

There was a time when an official race crew person was walking the course (in the opposite direction). As he passed me said, “Hey marathoner, how you doing?” Now, I know I am pretty much the sorriest excuse for a marathoner. However, it still made me feel special when he said “Hey, marathoner.” ‘Cause you know. I’m a marathoner. Or something.

As I continued to feel lost in the woods (since they never stopped), every time I heard people talking and laughing, it was such a fake out. I’d think that maybe I’d be close to the next aid station. Nope. It never ceased to be more woods and yet another family enjoying a nice Saturday hike.

I’m curious what the deal is with bandanas. I know why I had mine. Every single person who passed me had one as well. People had them in all different places on their person or their bag. I started to wonder why everyone had one and no one was wearing them in the same place. Is it so they can help control the bleeding if they get an awful dog bite? Is it to protect them from the sun (if it ever makes it through the trees)? Is it for both? Who knows. I still don’t know. The internet probably knows somewhere, I’m sure…

As much as I loved climbing that root wall, there definitely came a point where it was kind of like, “So, am I doing a marathon here, or am I acclimating to my new life in the jungle since I am never going to finish this race?” Balancing along fallen trees, jumping over little brooks, climbing walls. It was fun, but a little silly. I suppose that’s just the nature of the race.

Speaking of a little silly, how silly is it that I’m rattling off random thoughts? I like to (for the most part) try to keep my thoughts about races chronological ish. Sometimes space constraints or my memory or whatever other factors will keep me from doing that. But especially in this race, things blurred together. Oh so much of it was all the same.

I have a general idea of what happened between each stop, and during various stages of the sun being up or down, but I do not have a good enough appreciation for nature. The forest felt like a vortex to me, and every single time I made it to any rest stop alive was a miracle.

People who are cooler than me know the difference between all trees and plants and would be able to tell you all about their hike. I might be that cool someday. Today is not that day.

I’ll continue with my stories (or random thoughts or whatever I’m talking about now) tomorrow.

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 5

June 21, 2012

scary forest during the Mohican MarathonPicking up from yesterday with the actual race (moving on from all the gushing),

Forests are scary. The sound of a woodpecker stopped me in my tracks, because I thought it was the sound of a dog. Whenever I’m alone in a possibly unsafe place, I’m pretty sure everything is a dog.

From a distance a lot of plants look like animals. Then they don’t move at all. And you’re pretty sure they’re plants. Still, doesn’t hurt to walk up slowly just in case.

There were times when tree branches above me would shake, and I’d feel leaves (or at least I hope something as innocent as leaves) come down on my head. What was up there making them shake? Obviously it couldn’t just have been wind or something. That’d be preposterous. I’m sure there were probably dogs in the trees. Just don’t look up. You’ll be okay. Probably.

There was a point when I heard a really loud noise, and looked over and saw a big red spot on a tree. This worked really well with my whole “pretend I’m an actress on Criminal Minds” scenario, because that noise could’ve been anything. And that red stuff was obviously blood.

In addition to terrifying parts, there were gross parts. Since I was surrounded by so many trees, I was in the shade practically all day. Oftentimes I didn’t need to wear my sunglasses. (Almost unbelievable for a daytime marathon, right? But it’s true.)

Cover your eyes and skip to the next paragraph, ’cause this part is gross. Some little creature flew directly into my right eye! Ewwww! It happened to fast, I couldn’t stop him. My eye whipped shut naturally. As I opened it, I saw (and heard) goo. Eeewww! So gross, right?

There were moments of wonderfulness as well. There were a few times when we had to cross a street. An honest to goodness street. That’s paved. Those were always the happiest five steps I took.

root wall to climb at the Mohican 100 Marathon in Ohio

And as much as I love to complain about all the tiring, scary, gross things that were happening, there was one thing that was super cool. We got to climb this random wall of roots. Climbing was the one place where I actually succeeded pretty well, which is a bit odd because I have absolutely no upper body strength. Somehow though, shimmying up that wall is the one thing I did faster than the people around me.

I suppose when you’re just walking a trail, it’s easier to climb a wall-like structure than when you’re leaving everything you have out there, as some of the 100 mile racers were doing.

Speaking of enjoyable things, I also enjoyed every aid station, and all the volunteers I met. The rest stops were super well stocked, and the volunteers were total sweethearts – even to me, the slowest marathoner in the history of the race (I’m guessing).

Once I made it to the aid station more than a half marathon in, I sat for a while. I was so. tired. I did the math and realized I was going to be finishing in the dark. Luckily, my parents had happened to run into someone who had an extra light. It’s nice to have a problem fixed before I even thought of it. Wouldn’t it be great if all of life’s troubles were that easy?

I’ll adventure back into the woods tomorrow.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 11 (Why Didn’t I Just Leave?)

June 20, 2012

Homer Simpson on little train contraption in hospital gown, pumping arms to escape on train tracks
(Photo credit: Fox and Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

Last week, I was wondering why I didn’t leave the hospital.

I was (am still) super stubborn. Yet, I listened to the doctors (for the most part), and always stayed in the hospital when I was told I needed to.

I remember being pretty persistent, though still polite (I hope) both this time and two weeks prior (when I’d first been admitted), that I wanted to go to work, if possible.

(I’m sure poor doctors and nurses get so tired of arguing with people day in and day out over what they want versus what they need. Sorry, y’all.)

Someone explained to me that the hospital’s not like a hotel where you can choose when to come and go. And let’s get real, it would’ve never been convenient even if I could’ve chosen all the days and times that would’ve been best for being sick. I still today wouldn’t know what was wrong with me, ’cause I would’ve never made enough time to go in for tests and things.

My understanding is that you can sign the AMA form and leave. But I guess then there could be problems with your insurance. And I think that hospital then has the right to refuse to treat you if it’s the same problem, and not an immediately emergent situation, maybe?

For sure, I don’t know all the ins and outs of leaving the hospital early and AMA forms. I just remember it seeming pretty hard and complicated if I wanted to ditch the hops, yet still get help at some point.

And the doctors were making it seem very serious. They weren’t scaring me, but I think they wanted me to understand the gravity of the situation. I was told a few times that the most common way Wolff-Parkinson-White is found is through an autopsy after a young-ish person has a sudden death. Everyone made it seem like I should consider myself pretty extremely lucky.

And I do. I mean, I might complain about how hard this all was, and how it threw my life plan a little (completely) out of control. In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have had a weird, congenital heart defect. But in the world where I do, I’d rather be set back a few years from where I thought I’d be, than not have a chance to make my dreams come true someday (being held back by being dead and stuff).

clock showing the quote - remember time lost cannot be regained
This is a sad quote/idea. So, let’s not think about it. (Photo credit: Flickr user Matt Gibson)

And who’s to say that everything in my life would’ve gone according to plan if I wouldn’t have gotten sick? Since when does life ever go according to plan for anybody?

While in the hospital, wrestling with the disappointment of lost time, one of my friends pointed out that obviously I’m gonna be a super huge deal someday (a sweetheart thing to say, right?).

Therefore, it’s better to get all this over now than when I’d have to miss shooting a movie with the sexiest man alive, Ben Stiller.

Touché.

Going back to the idea of being way too obsessed over never missing work – it all started in high school. I gush about high school a fair amount on this blog; sometimes it’s hard not to. ‘Cause it was amazing, my friend. I had the most spectacular teacher in the universe. I adored her, and I adore her to this day.

And she’ll be mentioned in part of this story next week.

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 4 (Gushing About My Friend Who Got Me Through It)

June 19, 2012

Aurora De Lucia, wearing a bandana on her wrist, looking in her plastic bag at a rest stop of the Mohican Marathon
Wearing his bandana on my wrist.

Tyler.

Picking up from yesterday, he was my number one reason I couldn’t quit.

Ty is one of the most amazing human beings on the planet. I think I’ve talked about him on the blog before, and I know you don’t know him, so I’ll try not to gush on and on and on (which I know I have a bit of a tendency to do sometimes). But he is the sweetest of sweethearts. He has always been one of my very biggest supporters. He has this amazing ability to believe that I can do anything.

I like to think I believe in myself. And I always do… when it’s something I think I have the ability to do. But he has never faltered in his belief that I can do things that are seemingly out of my ability level.

Every single time he thought I could play a solo, or ace an audition, or do anything that seemed too far from where I was at the time, I did it. Somehow he always knew better than I did what I was truly capable of. I am so lucky to know him, and I appreciate him to no end.

Last year, he was serving in Afghanistan at this time. I sent him a card for his birthday. Not long after (our birthdays our six days (and some years) apart), he sent me probably the sweetest birthday message I’ve ever gotten. And he promised that at some point he was going to send me a surprise. How exciting! I love surprises.

It took a while to get this surprise. I suppose he was busy protecting people, or something. You know how it is over in Afghanistan… I’m guessing you don’t always have time to worry about your friend’s birthday surprises. Not that long ago (as this year’s birthday started to sneak up), I got my surprise. It was the bandana he used to wear in Afghanistan. He told me that he thought I might like to wear it in my first marathon. Of course I would!

Aurora De Lucia holding a water bottle and smiling at her first 26.2 - Mohican Marathon 2012

I wasn’t sure where to wear it, so I tied it around my wrist. It ended up being the perfect spot, because anytime I started to feel as though it was all too much, and the trail was too hard, and the sleep was too good-sounding, I felt the bandana. It was as though he was there holding my hand through the marathon.

He was such a sweetheart during the race. As if it wasn’t enough that he’d given me a present that was helping me get through, thankfully he texted me when I needed him the most. He told me to “keep going. One foot in front of the other. You have all the time in the world.” And he said he was proud of me.

Oh goodness. If Ty is proud, I’m doing something right. He would never give up. And he would never believe that I would either. So, how could I? I’ve always done everything else Ty believed I could do. ‘m not about to lose his belief in me now!

On and on I went. His support meant everything to me. I don’t know how I could’ve done it without him.

Yeah, I said I wasn’t going to gush on and on. I guess I didn’t really mean that, ’cause it just happened. How could I stop myself? Ty’s amazing. I desperately needed him during this race. And, as he always is, he was right there for me.

I’ll pick up talking about the marathon Thursday.

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 3

June 18, 2012

Aurora De Lucia nibbling snacks at the food table at the Mohican MarathonPicking up from yesterday –

Before I talk about the rest stop, backtracking for a second – When we started on road, I was surprised at my ability to hold my own in the first mile. This was a very small marathon and I was pretty sure I was going to be dead last from start to finish. However, on the road, I was passing people and feeling great. Not surprisingly, they all passed me not that long after we’d been on the trail.

Around mile 4?, 3?, who knows without any mile markers? –  a man came out of nowhere who still hadn’t passed me. I don’t know if he started late or got lost or what. But out of nowhere he came, and as soon as he was here, he was gone. I was officially in dead last.

I figure you kind of assumed that, but I wanted to tell you officially, I was last.

(If you’re wondering how I continued to talk to people throughout the race, it’s because people in the 100 and 50 mile races were lapping me.)

When I had almost reached the aid station, so… mile 9ish, I had some tears. My poor uncomfortable body! Trails are painful. Crying cannot be a good sign when you’re only 9 miles into 26.2. Put me on a treadmill or a street all day long, but put me in the woods and I’m gonna cry.

When I finally saw my family at the first main aid station (the Fire Tower), they had another great motivational poster for me. My mom did a really excellent job with the Michael Jackson themed posters.

I never shut up about how I want people to make posters for me during a marathon, but I just expected the normal ones with the funny running sayings you see at all marathons. She surpassed all expectations, taking it one step further by having quotes from Michael Jackson songs on all of them.

me and my mom at the Mohican Marathon 2012I wanted to sit and hang out with my parents for days, but seeing that I was way, way, way behind any kind of pace, my dad hurried me along to the next part. Not even a mile into the next part, I came across a little parking lot area where a bunch of other families had gathered. I spent at least a good 30 (45? 60?) minutes talking to strangers. So much for hurrying it along.

I was so very, very tired. In every way. Totally sleepy. Totally tired of the terrain. Eventually, I started back on the path. Once I’m in a race, I’m never down to quit. I might go slowly, or need to take a second (or apparently 1,800 (2,700? 3,600?) seconds as it may be), but I’m not ready to go home until I cross the finish line. I took up way more of that 36-hour time limit than I should have, but I could not quit.

I will admit, it sort of seemed like this one time it’d be nice to stop and go home. My dad started justifying why it would be okay to quit, and why it was more like a hike-a-thon than a marathon. We started talking about how there was another marathon the next day in Canton.

I looked up Canton’s marathon on my phone, and they were offering everyone the chance to postpone entries to the following year because of a forecast riddled with super heat. So, if I really wanted to, I could quit (never acceptable no matter what we were trying to convince ourselves) and go run a full marathon in the sweltering heat (with double digit miles under my belt for the weekend already). Yeah, nope. Doesn’t sound as though anything good at all could come out of that.

Also, a DNF? Unacceptable. There have been times when I was planning on doing a race and didn’t start, which is embarrassing enough. But once I start, how could I not finish?

There’s one more reason I had to keep going, which is what I’ll start with tomorrow.

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 2

June 17, 2012

poster for Aurora at the Mohican Marathon
That’s the first of many awesome Michael Jackson themed posters my mom made for me.

Picking up from yesterday, the race starts. I’m still so very tired.

We started on road, which was amazing. I’m lightly jogging it out. I knew with 26.2 miles ahead of me, I did not want to start out too fast. I had a nice pace going ’til we hit a trail.

Bum bum bum (scary chords).

In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I am not good on trails. They’re uneven. They’re uncomfortable. There could be animals around. And you have no idea where you are! Well, maybe you do if you’re outdoorsy and have a compass or a good sense of direction, but I have no idea where I am! It all looks the same to me – trees, trees, followed by more trees.

You know what made it a million times worse? Earlier that morning, as I was getting out of the van to go toward the start line, I overheard a man on a bullhorn talking about how there weren’t going to be mile markers.

Excuse me, what?

There were places where the trail came out to rest stop area things where we could get food or use the restroom or whatever. So, every 6 or so miles we would know we’d gone 6 miles. And we would know nothing at all in between.

I think attitudes are different in a 100 mile race. There were a few times, when I felt as though I’d been in the forest forever, that I asked someone around me how many miles ’til we see humanity again. No one ever knew. Ever. I think I was the only one cared. I think some people liked being in the forest.

Those people are not me.

I did my best not to get too terribly bored. I’ve heard before that the only people who have the ability to be bored are boring people. I used my imagination to keep me busy in the forest.

tree that sort of looks like it has a face growing out of it in the Mohican 100 Marathon
Is it just me or do you sort of the see the face in this tree? It’s got a little pouty mouth thing going on…

I pretended that I was in fairy tales and had to run from hunters, evil stepmothers, and the like. I pretended I was an actress in an episode of Criminal Minds (love that show) who had to run from the killer. I pretended to be various adventurers (most fictional) through different time periods.

I acted like I was in a Broadway musical with an absolutely humongous set. I played like I was in Shakespeare in the Park – truly right in the park instead of on that great stage.

I acted scenes I imagined from that movie Stand By Me. I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard they were in a forest, which may or may not be true. For my purposes today, they were in fact in a forest.

I danced and pretended that I was shooting a music video. This worked best with It’s All Coming Back to Me Now by Celine Dion, but it was fun to put any number of random songs in a forest setting and try to make sense of why the video would be shot there.

I had a number of scenarios to keep me busy. For the first 9.2 miles (’til the first big rest stop). But then what?

The first time I actually saw road was a surprise about 5.6 miles in. We had to cross a street, and there was a small aid station set up there with food and such. I cannot think of a time in my life when I’d been more happy to see strangers… or road. Anything to be out of the forest. Although, I had to go right back in.

And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

I Am a Marathoner? – Part 1 (The Backstory Chapter)

June 16, 2012

Aurora De Lucia running out the start of her first marathon - Mohican 100 Oh boy.

I can honestly say that I still don’t really know what it’s like to run a marathon. To me, a marathon is a super fun race down closed city streets. This was not that. This was more of a hike-a-thon (for me at least – some people ran their butts off).

I knew what I was getting into. This was definitely not a surprise.

(Note: In the story that follows it may sound as though I regret my decision or blame other people. I don’t. I made the choice to run a trail race, and knew what I was getting into. I was just crazy, to say the least.)

(And it barely feels like a marathon. But technically, I finished 26.2 miles. I am a marathoner with a medal and all… even if it was more of a hike.)

A few weeks ago, my parents and I were talking about my first marathon, which I was planning on running in Seattle this upcoming weekend. My mom started trying to convince me to fly to Ohio so my parents could see my first full marathon. We looked at marathons, schedules, and such. Really the only one we could make work was the Mohican Marathon.

We talked back and forth for probably two hours before settling on it. I knew it was most likely a bad idea. I said I hate trails. They make my whole body ridiculously uncomfortable. I knew that you can’t watch a trail marathon from nearly as many places as you can a road marathon. Somehow my mom kept putting a positive spin on it, and I was convinced. Sort of.

Even after I’d been “convinced,” and plane tickets had been bought, and I’d paid the registration fee, I still called my dad at least every other day. “Daddy, I don’t know if I should do it. It’s a trail.” “Daddy, I’ll be at least twice as slow, maybe even more.” “I’ll be a crankypants, complaining about the awful feeling of the dirt beneath my feet.”

Aurora De Lucia taking small steps at the start of the Mohican MarathonI tried to appeal to my dad instead of my mom mainly because he knew firsthand. He’d been with me at the Rose Bowl Half Marathon in Pasadena, and I texted him on the trail portion. “This is torture.” I sprained my ankle that day! I hate trails.

I know I’m a grown up and all, so I could’ve done whatever I wanted. I don’t know why I was sort of seeking permission not to do it. It was a struggle within myself more than anything. I loved the idea of a 36-hour time limit. (It was so generous due to the concurrent 100 mile race. I loved the idea of my family being there. But I hated the idea of being on all that uneven, dirt surface. For 26.2 miles.)

(I know, I sound like an awful person who hates nature. I have a love/hate relationship with it. Definitely more hate than love when it comes to running.)

My dad was supportive. “Sweetheart, if you don’t want to do it, don’t do it. You can pick another one.” But I couldn’t bring myself to do that. My parents really wanted to be at my first one. And with the crazy half marathoning schedule I have, in order to give my legs any chance, I had to do one in the summer. (The fall is slammed.) And I didn’t want Disney to be my race my first marathon ever. (It’s right for some people, and that’s super cool. But it is not right for me.)

So, I sucked it up and flew to visit my parents. As you know from yesterday, I didn’t sleep at all on the plane.

I landed in Columbus, and jumped in the van. My dad drove me, my mom, and my Grandma up to Loudonville. I didn’t try to sleep in the van. Sometimes a 40-minute sleep is worse than no sleep at all.

I went in and got my bib. This is one of the few races where people can say, “Oh, I’m only doing the marathon.” Most of the time, the marathon is the longest distance. Today it was the shortest.

We made it to Loudonville with just enough time for me to get my bib on, stretch a little, and get to the start line.

You could tell I was exceptionally tired because even with all my bib pinning practice this year, I put it on way to high at first. Declining motor skills – check. Excellent day for a trail race!

And this is where I will pick up tomorrow.

A Red Eye Flight to a Marathon Is an Excellent Idea. (That’s Sarcasm)

June 15, 2012

Fry from Futurama stressed out.
This is the gist of the man next to me on this flight.

Tomorrow’s post will talk about choosing this marathon so my parents could be at my first full.

For now, I’ll just say that if I wanted to do this one, the only way that I could get there (without missing anything I couldn’t miss in Los Angeles) was to take the overnight flight.

Now, I am awesome at sleeping on planes. I’m awesome at sleeping anywhere – buses, trains, Port Authority, wherever. If it’s a place, I can sleep there.

But my sleep schedule is never right for running events. I’m a stay up late, get up late type of person, which especially doesn’t work in my favor when I’m switching time zones from west coast to east coast.

I am smart enough to know this wasn’t my best idea ever. But you know how sometimes you make a decision that you know isn’t all that smart but convince yourself of the reasons you have to do it anyway? At least I knew what I was getting myself into…

I’ve tried to sleep on this flight. I can make a bunch of excuses such as the unhappy baby behind me, or the man beside me who genuinely thought we were going to die during a bad spell of turbulence. He grabbed my leg and said, “Jesus!” He started looking through his iPhone at pictures of his kids as though they were going to be the last thing he ever saw.

We’re going to be okay, man.

In the end, if I’m tired enough, I can sleep. You gotta let people breathe and cry and feel emotions, you know? They can do whatever they want, and I can sleep if I want. I seem not to be letting myself. My mind is working, which it should want to do in sleep. But tonight is not my night, I guess.

Tomorrow’s (today’s, in Ohio) 26.2 miles will be super pleasant, I’m sure.

For now, let’s try this whole sleep thing again…

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 10 (I’m Not Sure How to Handle All of This)

June 13, 2012

baby under a blanket giving an interested face with big eyes
This baby looks interested. Hopefully you (at least kind of) are too. (Photo credit TerryHaas.wordpress.com)

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

Picking up from last week –

I really hope this is somewhat interesting to you, ’cause after glancing over part 9 to remember where I was, I’m finding myself a little more grating than interesting! (Oof.) And then, being self-deprecating can be grating too! This is turning into a mess, huh?

Hopefully today’s post will be fun, ’cause I’m gonna talk about my best flaw – my stubborn craziness.

Since I’ve had some time to step away from this situation, it’s easier to talk about it as though it didn’t drive me bonkers every moment of every day.

It’s easier now to act as though, “oh it was fun and games. No one was that mad that I missed work. I rolled with the punches.” But that was not quite the case.

I’ve been a little hesitant to talk about exactly how much it bothered me to miss work, because people act as though you’re crazy, or like you really can’t care that much about some job while in a somewhat life-threatening situation. I did.

Whenever someone would check in on me and how I was feeling, the first thing I talked about was how angry I was about missing work – angry with myself, angry with my body, with the timing of everything. Just generally angry. I know there’s no use in stewing over bad situations. I did try to joke a lot with the nurses, and keep it light even back then. But I still had anger and sadness and frustrations going on.

Lisa Simpson angry, screaming with tongue sticking out
(Photo credit: Fox/Matt Groening (The Simpsons))

Here’s the thing about life. A lot of people say things along the lines of “Who cares if you miss out on this show? At least you have your health.”

Life is not about just getting up everyday and breathing. Life is about experiencing things, doing what you love, and fighting for your dreams.

I know that one show, one job, one race, whatever, doesn’t always make or break you. And I know that you have to fix heart problems. And I know that missing a year of work is better than missing decades of work, ’cause you’re dead or something.

But knowing in your brain that you have to miss work now so as not to miss it in the future doesn’t make it any less painful. It didn’t make my stomach turn any less about calling out for the first time ever.

Even thinking about it now, I’m getting a little sick about it. I thought that I would never call out of a show in my life. Ever. I thought that nothing would keep me from a theater. To know that I was wrong about that so early in my career sucks.

And you know how you always hear about the stories of those people who are like, “I fell off a cliff, broke a bone in three places, and decided to keep climbing up Mt. Everest anyway.” Maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. And maybe that stuff mainly only happens in movies. But you know those kind of inspiring stories I’m talking about – the ones where people do things that truly seem super human…

I’m leaving. On that midnight train to Georgia.
No, I’m not. (Photo credit: FunnyJunk.com (Anonymous user))

I liked to think I was one of those super human people. Oh yeah, put me in a tough spot and I’ll become a superhero. No big deal. But nope. I was a boring girl who let everything happen to her.

I mean, I may have been sick but I still have free will, right? Conceivably, I could’ve just ripped off my heart monitor and said, “peace out, suckas! I don’t have to stay here.”

Sometimes looking back on it from the future, I do think, “Why didn’t I just say, ‘I’m leaving?'”

I’ll explore why I wasn’t stubborn enough to leave next week.

(#19) Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego – Part 4 (Karaoke and Brunch)

June 9, 2012

Aurora De Lucia and her new friends at lunch after Rock 'n' Roll San Diego Half Marathon 2012 Yesterday, I left off running past karaoke.

After I had gone not too terribly far past it, I thought, “When in my life have I ever turned down karaoke?” Never. The answer is never. I turned around, ran back, and the woman told me to hop onstage.

I figured, “I worked really hard in this race. Who cares about my chip time?” I sang and sang and sang. And sang. We didn’t get to pick the songs, they just kept coming up, hit after hit. I sang lead in some and acted as a back-up singer in others.

I kept thinking about leaving, but then another one of my jams would come on. Finally, I had to leave. I felt selfish continuing to share the stage with people! I was there for something like 5 songs. I probably wasted about 25 minutes on running out, back again, singing, singing, singing, and running out again.

It was too fun. I could’ve sang and danced for hours. After karaoke, I started running again and remembered how tiring that was. Can’t somebody just let me sing and dance some more?

As I ran to the next corner, I heard Michael Jackson blaring from the DJ booth. Aw, yeah! The only problem was, the speakers were set up in a way that one was across the street somewhere and there was some sort of delay between them. Slightly different parts of the song seemed to be playing at the same time, which was kind of disorienting and a little unpleasant. Luckily, it was a Michael Jackson song. Even if it gets messed up, how unpleasant can it really be?

I kept going along pretty slowly. I walked a lot and finally started to jog again once the end was in my sights.

Annie was there at the finish and still remembered me! “Look who it is!” she said into the microphone. Of course, probably no one but the two of us knew who I was, but I knew!

Right after I crossed the finish line, I saw Brandon! He had actually stuck around and waited all that time for me – our whole little group had. (I felt a little bad for wasting so much time at karaoke! I didn’t realize people would stick around for me.)

He led the delirious me through the finish chute. I got chocolate milk, Gatorade, Marathon bars, and other snacks.

I got some ice on my knee. (Yes, it is still nagging me a little. For new blog readers – Unfortunately, it hurts because my grandma is the female Chuck Norris, not because I got some crazy running injury. (The “female Chuck Norris” description was given to me by a blog follower. Thanks, Kristen!) And yes, I know I should have a doctor look at my knee. I will get to it for sure.)

I got to go to the special booth and get my Super 6 medal. Brandon acted as though I were a total super hero for the rest of the day. (Funny, ’cause his time totally spanked mine.)

We met up with the rest of the group and got on the shuttle to go back to the cars. I was a total mess, and sat down immediately. Everyone else held up way better than I did (and finished way faster).

I finished in 3 hours and 33 minutes, which honestly I’m really happy with. If I can take a huge karaoke break in the middle of a race and still finish in 3:33, I call it a successful race (for where I am now).

On the bus ride to the cars, I looked at Joy and apologized for not keeping up with her. She was an amazing pacer, and tried so hard to get me to finish in 3 hours. I told her that next year I could do it in three with her. She looked at me and said, “2:30.” It’s on like Donkey Kong, baby!

Next year I won’t be doing nearly as many half marathons. But this one was truly incredible and I’ll be back next year to finish under 2:30.

The gang went out to Soup Plantation. My friend Sheeva met us there and we had a grand ol’ time.

Later that night, I had incredible burgers with Sheeva at Burger Lounge, and before you knew it, it was time to go back home to LA.

*Side note, I know there are usually more pictures. Due to the incredibly slow nature of my computer that has something wrong with it, I’m unable to upload more until I get this baby fixed. Soon!

(#19) Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego – Part 3 (Trying To Hold On)

June 8, 2012

Picking up from yesterday –

Mile 4 was where I really started to slow down, which I suppose was okay-ish since we were ahead of a 3-hour pace. I kind of felt bad because no one else in the group was struggling besides me. They were a good group. No one made me feel like the slow one. That was a self-inflicted feeling (but I felt it nonetheless).

As miles passed, I kept myself going, thinking, “Do you want to run Boston someday?” (I do. And if I can’t get faster, it’s not gonna happen. Of course, I can get faster. (And I have to get a lot faster.)) I kept thinking about those great Kanye West lyrics, “Giving up is way harder than trying.”

Side note: Wouldn’t that be a cool name for a blog? – “Giving Up Is Way Harder Than Trying.” I’m still not necessarily on board with the current one – “My Heart Was Stopped, I Cannot Be.” It makes me feel like I think I’m so cool or something. I don’t know why it sounds conceited to me, but it rubs me the wrong way… and I don’t want people to feel annoyed when they see my blog.

The race was out of Gatorade in multiple spots. I do usually enjoy the Rock ‘n’ Roll events overall. And this half marathon was not only one of my favorite Rock ‘n’ Roll events of the year, but one of my favorite half marathons of this year overall. So, I don’t want to complain to heavily about this one thing. But come on, man! I’m dying here. And when I’m with the 3-hour pacer in a race with a 4-hour time limit, I don’t think they should be out of Gatorade yet.

At some point (I think around mile 6), Brandon and Taiwo took off. Brandon ended up finishing somewhere in the 2:30 vicinity. (This from a man who signed up about 2 weeks prior and didn’t train. That’s not embarrassing for me at all that he just laced up his running shoes for fun and totally smoked me.)

As miles go by, and I’m fading, I start to snack on that mini-bagel. People always say, “Don’t try anything new during a race that you didn’t do in training.” I know that that is extremely sound advice. I’m not sure what I was thinking. I just thought I’d want some extra energy to help keep me pushing my pace as the miles went on.

Nothing catastrophic happened. I just had an upset stomach after the race. I had to sit for a couple of minutes after I made it out of the finish chute, ’cause I sort of felt like I might throw up. (Ew, right?) But I didn’t. (Yay!)

I was barely holding on to Joy by mile marker 9. And by barely, I mean, I wasn’t beside her anymore. But I could see her not too many paces in front of me, and I kept trying to run toward her big red 3-hour pace sign. In mile 10, I couldn’t keep the pace. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I slowed way down, but still thought I could pull out maybe a 3:08-ish time. It wouldn’t be too shabby.

As I was getting toward the end of mile 10, almost into mile 11, I saw this huge booth set up and this woman holding a microphone asking people to come over and karaoke! What? I remember mentioning in a previous post (Indiana, maybe?) that one of the acts was getting pretty close to the street. And I thought it’d be funny if it was so they could get runners to sing in the mic as they passed by. I imagined how fun race karaoke would be. Sure enough, they had it here!

Judging by the attitude of the woman holding out the mic, not many runners were stopping. She seemed a little tired of asking people to get onstage, and a little defeated by the fact that everyone kept running on by.

I thought about stopping, but I had to keep going! I had worked too hard to tank my time now…

And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.