Aurora's Blog

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 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.

So You Didn’t Go To Providence?

August 19, 2012

Rock n Roll Marathon in Providence logo Nope.

In case you didn’t suffer through yesterday’s crankypants post (I don’t blame you), I didn’t go to Providence.

I was lucky enough to have a flight buddy pass, so that I could fly free. That also means I have to fly standby.

I’m pretty low maintenance about most things in this world.

(For those of you coming up with examples of things you think I’m high maintenance about, I’ll admit I am about come things. I’m a light switch – not a dimmer switch – about almost everything in life. I love things, I hate things. I’m super passionate, pouring all my time and energy into something; or I couldn’t care less, ignoring something ’til it’s out of my life. I’m super low maintenance, or crazy high maintenance.)

Generally, I’m low maintenance. (Examples: I almost never wear make-up or take more than 15 seconds to put my hair up. I sleep on a mattress on the floor (in a completely undecorated room). I take the bus – in Los Angeles. I go out in public in pajamas. Often.)

back view of plane landing in afternoon on lit jet strip — Photo credit: Nykola.com

I love airports. I love walking around looking at all the various shops and restaurants in such a close vicinity. I love working on my computer while there’s hustling and bustling, and announcements going on around me.

I love planes. I love seeing all the various places people might be going. I love pun-ny restaurant and kiosk names in different cities.

I could easily hang out an airport for hours – days, even. Put a shower and a locker in there, and I could go for weeks. I love airports, so flying standby doesn’t bother me in the least. I’m thankful to have a ticket at all.

The only time it sort of becomes an issue is when I have to get somewhere in somewhat of a hurry. I take full responsibility for the fact that I didn’t get there. There’s no one to blame but me, here.

When I originally signed up for Rock ‘n’ Roll Providence, I thought maybe I wouldn’t be working, and I could make a big trip out of it. I could go see gorgeous Boston for a few days, and of course, stop by the greatest city in the world (New York City – as if you needed it clarified).

Then I got my amazing job at Playboy, and classes at the Groundlings started to snowball. It became clear to me that I was only going to be able to go to Providence for the weekend. Between the time change, and travel time, and everything; I’d get there close to midnight on Saturday, run the race, then get right back on a plane on Sunday afternoon.

It was going to be lovely getting out of L.A., but it was going to be super quick. I was barely going to realize it was happening.

I watched flights to Providence and Boston in the couple of weeks that led up to this race, and I saw them getting closer and closer to being sold out. I knew the chances of me getting there on standby were not good.

But I couldn’t leave any earlier than Saturday morning. started a new class on Friday – and it’s a writing class. I couldn’t justify missing it. I didn’t want to miss it.

When I called to get listed on a flight on Saturday morning, the agent on the phone didn’t make it sound very promising that I’d get on a flight. I headed to the airport anyway. It’s not hard to get there from my apartment. I paid for this race. I’m dying to get out of L.A. for a day. A girl can dream!

But it didn’t happen. I missed out on seeing one of my closest friends who’s moving out of the east coast this weekend (and happened to be stopping in Providence from Saturday – Monday). That was a humongous bummer. Not to mention, I missed out on seeing a couple of blog followers/new friends who were going to be running this race. Bummers all around.

Now, I have to add another Rock ‘n’ Roll race, ’cause I sure as heck am not going to only run 9 in a year, when 10 gets you the biggest, swankiest, pinkest medal they have.

Denver or Miami. Those are the only two left in the year that fit on free weekends. I’d prefer to do Denver – it’s closer, and I’ve heard it would be fun to run at that altitude. However, my final writing class is the day before, so I have a feeling I’d run into a similar problem as with Providence. It’s looking like Miami. I’d be able to make time for the expo and have a grand time. We’ll see…

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

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!

Humpty Dumpty in full body cast — 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!

Basic at The Groundlings – Part 5 (The “Expanding on Some Thoughts from My First Time Through” Chapter)

August 13, 2012

Since you’ve all been clamoring for more improv tales – (This is both sarcastic and genuine. Some of you come here to hear about running, and really don’t care about improv. Some of you want to hear about it – my previous improv posts have been surprisingly popular.)) – I’m happy to oblige.

Picking up from last time –

I was talking about my final evaluation from Jordan, and how he still believed I had potential – even though I deteriorated so hard (so very, very hard) in the second half of the semester. To him, I’m sure that evaluation was same old, same old. (He has hundreds of students.) To me, it made me believe that something was possible – something I would’ve never thought otherwise.

Luke Skywalker That's Impossible — “That’s impossible!” No it’s not, Luke. Anything is possible.

Of course I’m gonna call myself out for saying that. When people make sweeping statements such as “never in my wildest dreams,” or “I never thought that would be possible” – I think, “Don’t you have an imagination? Your dreams and possibilities should be vast – endless, in fact. What a ridiculous thing to say.”

Well, Aurora, I do have a vast imagination. But not one that could’ve ever thought I could move forward at the Groundlings.

(You may underestimate how horrible (awful, horrendous, appalling) I was when I started improv.)

I don’t want to oversell how much this final evaluation day (driven/dreamy head snap, way over-the-top with huge musical-theater-eyes and grand gestures) changed everything in my world.

There are some changes in life that are huge, and some that are quite small. My change from Jordan’s class wasn’t humongous, but it has already influenced me a fair amount – you never know when 5 minutes will change a year.

You know the deal with Newton’s 3 laws of motion (paraphrasing law #1) – an object in motion stays in motion. I know an idea is not an object, but this is figurative. Jordan gave me a much needed nudge that put me in motion at the Groundlings. (If you want to try to work in the gist of the 2nd law of motion, it usually seems that the more I get pushed there, the more powerfully I go.)

I’m so glad I had someone tell me not to quit when I needed it the most. I like to think I’m not a quitter (although the facts in the story we heard in part 4 – when, for all intents and purposes, I quit after one bad class – beg to differ). Even in this world where I believe that I’m maybe not a quitter, improv doesn’t live there.

At least I didn’t think it did. Why belabor this ridiculous hobby that I started without any expectations (negative expectations) in the first place? There’s a difference between keeping at something you can excel in, and chasing after a completely lost cause, right? Maybe? Maybe not. I suppose blind faith might be an important ingredient in achieving great, fun, new, and different things.

Great white shark open mouth — Photo Credit: Inquisitr.com

So, maybe I can improv? What a weird sentence to type. You should’ve seen my struggle in high school when we had to improv – which thank goodness was not often. To say I was the worst improviser on probably the planet is to put it mildly.

I vaguely remember this one scene – part of my leg was eaten by a shark. And I remember standing onstage hobbling incredibly awkwardly, thinking “What do I do, here?!” Well, Aurora, if a shark took your leg below your knee, maybe you should fall over, or be in pain, or cry, or something! Nope, no. How about you just stand onstage, balancing on one leg, looking like a deer in the headlights. Yeah, good job.

You may ask yourself, “How is it possible that she is so unbelievably awful at improv when she wants to write for a living, and she loves acting (and seems like she can hold her own on stage)? Conceivably those things should meld together quite well into an improviser.” Well, yes. Conceivably they should. That’s a great point you bring up. I don’t know what to tell you.

I guess those things are beginning to come together (maybe), so we’ll see what happens.

I ran into Jordan months after his class at the grocery store. He was just as kind as ever. He asked if I was back in Basic. I wasn’t. He stressed again that I should really jump back in and retake it. I ended up signing up for a class in May/June. Life is for living, right? (Or waiting 3/4 of a year and then living.)

I was hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’d get Jordan again. I had things to prove, and couldn’t imagine a better improv teacher.

Then I got Kevin.

– which is where I’ll pick up next time.

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.

registered or not registered — 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/May People 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

Simon-Chris_001 — 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?

Little kid in Broadway impact shirt — 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

birthday_balloons_and_confetti_with_streamers_in_bright_colors_0515-1004-2122-0003_SMU — 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).

la-la-la — 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.

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!

Jesse Tyler Ferguson

August 4, 2012

As promised yesterday, here is another one of my love rants.

Jesse. Tyler. Ferguson.

As I thought about what to write, I figured I should maybe tone down my crazyfan status just a tad – after all, you never know. In my dream world, I get to work with this man someday.

(But then, I didn’t really tone it down. It is what it is.)

Let’s start with the night I was first introduced to JTF’s greatness. Rewind back some years to when Spelling Bee was on Broadway. I was a mere teenager, spending part of my summer studying at Juilliard. (Mocks herself in super pompous voice – “Ah, yes. I was studying at The Juilliard.”) It was my first summer in the City, and I loved every second of it.

I’d heard from some friends that The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee was the one show I could not miss. They were right. I love a lot of musicals, but this one is my favorite. I had no idea what I was in for. I hadn’t heard any of the music. I hadn’t even heard a synopsis of the show. All I heard was, “Go.” So I did.

Thank goodness I went, and thank goodness I didn’t have any of the surprises ruined for me. The show is unbelievably fun and touching.

I identified so hard with different characters. (How does Rachel Sheinkin (or maybe Rebecca Feldman) get me so well?)

The thing I will take away most from that night is being absolutely mesmerized Jesse Tyler Ferguson’s performance as Leaf Coneybear. I had never seen anything quite like it, and I’ve never seen anything like it since. He’s a genius. Yeah, I’ll say it – genius.

It’s a little hard to pinpoint exactly what it was about his performance that I adored, but I’ll try. He played the part of the “dumb one.” He could’ve played “at” the character instead of really playing him. He also could’ve made a bunch of choices that we usually associate with “the dumb character” – and still given a great performance, but one we’d already seen in other places.

But, no. He was completely original – making every choice unique. His facial expressions, line deliveries, physical choices – all of it, everything – were unique, new, and different. Yet, they still made perfect sense for Leaf Coneybear. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. His performance was basically immobilizing. I couldn’t help but be sucked completely into his world.

(The whole cast was phenomenal. That show was magic onstage.)

Also, as if he wasn’t amazing enough as Leaf Coneybear – he was wonderful as Logan’s dad. (Actors play multiple roles in this show.) He completely transformed, and was equally as fun to watch in the dad role.

I was so emotionally involved in that show. It’s so good, I can’t even handle it. Ever since that night, I have been Jesse Tyler Ferguson’s biggest fan. I saw him in Spelling Bee 11 times. (And I would’ve seen if 11,000 times if I could’ve.)

I also saw him at Joe’s Pub, in Shakespeare in the Park, and in a few other things. It’s possible that there was a little stretch there where he may have possibly thought I was perhaps stalking him a tiny bit. Hopefully he didn’t.

Yes, I was at the stage door a lot, but what superfan isn’t? I guess the difference is – when you see Madonna 17 times, no one notices, ’cause so many people are doing it. But, I was a fan of Jesse Tyler Ferguson when not a ton of people were standing up and taking notice. So, I felt a little weird about it. (Yet, I continued to go see everything, and then pour compliments all over him after every show).

He was always the very nicest to me. I’m sure he doesn’t know who I am, but there was a time when he saw me so much that he recognized me. He was so kind. He asked questions about my life, and would remember answers and ask follow-ups the next time I saw him.

There was even a time when he was the outgoing message on my voicemail. However, since somehow the world was not wisening up to his talent, it always confused people when they went to leave a message and heard him refer to himself as my personal assistant. “Hmmm, do you, or do you not have a personal assistant? ‘Cause that kind of sounds like a joke message, but I don’t know who that person is… So…?” (I would get the most awkward voicemails.)

The point is, Jesse Tyler Ferguson was a total sweetheart. And the absolute most talented sweetheart at that. To me, his acting sets the bar.

The Producers at the Hollywood Bowl – Part 2

August 3, 2012

Dane Cook as Franz Liebkind in The Producers at The Hollywood Bowl, smiling, holding pigeon — Photo Credit: Playbill.com

Picking up from last week –

This was something different from the usual beginning of a musical. Right before the show, everyone stood and sang along as the band played the National Anthem. (At least, I think the idea was for us all to sing along, since everyone around me was doing it. Who knows…)

Before I get to complaints and raves about certain things about the show – can we just talk about how Dane Cook completely stole the show? I kid you not. He was phenomenal. I don’t even think that’s overstating it. I didn’t know what to expect from Dane Cook. I’m gonna go ahead and be honest and say I wasn’t expecting much. That might be kind of mean, but I heard it was just some stunt casting. I didn’t know if he could act. I didn’t know if he could sing, or do musical theater. But, boy oh boy, he rocked that stage! He had enough energy to fill the entire space – and the venue holds 18,000 people, so that’s a lot of energy! Great voice, great acting, great dancing, great all of it. Great, great, great.

I saw an interview with him in which he said that he was basically living the show. He said he was always practicing his accent and songs and everything – in the car, during breaks, wherever he could. It really showed! I’m mighty impressed with his dedication and talent. I’d never seen him in anything before – I’ve never seen one of his stand-up specials, or movies, or anything. (I wasn’t actively avoiding him or anything, I just never happened to see any of his stuff.) Now, he’s got a new fan. I’d be happy to go see him again in anything. I was blown away.

Dane Cook Jesse Tyler Richard Kind Producers Hollywood Bowl — Photo Credit: Playbill.com

And now to my biggest complaint – maybe not even complaint per se, so much as sadness. I did not realize exactly how much sets influence a show until I saw The Producers without moving sets. Changing the set completely, as opposed to just adding a couch and taking away a couch, is part of the magic. And I didn’t realize exactly how much magic sets hold. I’ve seen a number of great shows with a very minimal set, or one that doesn’t change at all throughout the show. But this is a big spectacle-having show. In a show like this, it mattered.

For instance, when they started doing the dance where SPOILER ALERT (But honestly, how have you not seen this show yet? It came out 11 years ago – and they made a movie out of it.) – people are marching in the formation of a swastika, I was hoping against all hope, “Bring the mirror out, bring the mirror out.” Nope. They did show a camera angle on the jumbotron that showed the swastika, but it was so not the same. I guess what I’m saying here, is that it seems as though I’m maybe trying to pinpoint why there wasn’t as much magic this time as there is in a Broadway theater, but I’m not sure that you can pinpoint it down to one thing such as sets. Sometimes magic is magic, and it’s hard to pinpoint it. And there was some magic missing.

Richard Kind and Jesse Tyler Ferguson with canes and hats doing the finale in The Producers at the Hollywood Bowl — Photo Credit: Playbill.com

However, Jesse Tyler Ferguson breathes life into any show. Even if the show doesn’t live up to preconceived notions in other ways – he will make it special. I said I wasn’t going to write a whole loving post about him, but now that we’re talking about him, how can I not?

Tomorrow I’ll give you a whole Jesse Tyler Ferguson love-fest.

For now, I’ll finish talking about the show. They cut a pretty memorable song from the end. That was a bit of a confusing bummer. JTF made some awesomely fun and hilarious choices. (You can see some of his great facial expressions here.) As the music for “I Wanna Be a Producer” stared, I leaned forward and scooted straight to the edge of my seat. Of course he rocked it (as I knew he would).

I thought I’d check out the stage door to see if there was a chance I’d see him. The area outside of the stage door was littered with celebrities, and overly crowded. Ah, to be back in the days when he was surprised to have a fan waiting… (I don’t wish those days for him, though! I’m so happy that his talent has been recognized by him being put on an extremely popular TV show.)

At the end of the night, I ran into my two new friends on the bus ride home. They ended up sitting next to Dave Foley! (Apparently he was incredibly fun – and knew what show he was seeing (unlike the people around me).)

A fun night was had by all (all 3 of us, at least – I can’t speak for everyone at the Bowl).

(And you can read the Jesse Tyler Ferguson love-fest here.)

“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 view I’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 2012 So 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?

people on roof balcony — 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.

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.

The Producers at the Hollywood Bowl – Part 1

July 27, 2012

Jesse Tyler Ferguson with Richard Kind in The Producers at the Hollywood Bowl — Photo credit: VogueEnt.com

Jesse Tyler Ferguson live onstage.

I’m looking around with my huge, unbelieving eyes right after saying that. It’s Jesse Tyler Ferguson. Live onstage!

Usually I’m the one missing out on all the amazing performances that my fabulous friends get to go see – since they’re busy living it up in the greatest city in the world. But not this time, suckas! Tonight, it’s LA – 1, NY – 0. (Victory dance.)

I could easily write a whole post loving on Jesse Tyler Ferguson (and I might just do that next week). But for now, let’s talk about going to see The Producers.

Now that I’ve opened with Jesse Tyler Ferguson – let’s take a total tangent, and start with the beginning of the night.

I met the two most enchanting women – D’Anna and Zoe – on the shuttle from Hollywood/Highland to the Hollywood Bowl. They were so fun, sweet, and adorable. As I often do with strangers, I asked them about their dreams in life and what they want to be when they grow up.

I won’t give away their dreams, or doubts, but one of them thought she might be too old to go back to school for something. Of course, I immediately look at her with the “fire in the eyes” look, letting her know that she’s definitely not too old to do anything. And then she tries to trap me! She gives another example. “Well, it’s too late to become a ballerina.” Well, no. It’s not. It might be too late to take the traditional path to being a ballerina. But it’s not too late to take dance classes and become awesome at ballet and rock your community dance scene. There’s always some way to do something.

D’Anna, Zoe, and I had some lovely conversation on the shuttle, and again as we waited in line together at will call. We left off mid-conversation right before we got to the ticket window. After I got my tickets, I looked around for them. At first, I didn’t see them, but we ended up finding each other. This when they were the sweetest of sweethearts.

They said, “We were looking for you – telling each other, ‘I wonder if she was just an angel sent to bring light into our lives, and tell us that we can do anything. Then as quickly she came, she vanished.’” How sweet was that? I am being totally conceded, printing it on the blog. But, it was one of the sweetest compliments I’d ever gotten (especially from strangers), and it made me feel so amazing, loved, and happy – too amazing, loved, and happy to not put it in here.

We eventually part ways and go to our seats. This was my first time seeing something at the Hollywood Bowl. And there’s something weird about that place: People don’t go to necessarily see the show that’s playing. People go to have a night out and picnic, or because they’re subscribers. I have never in my life walked into a Broadway show, asked the person next to me if they’re excited to see [insert name of musical here]; and had them reply, “Well, my boss has season tickets, and he’s out of town. I didn’t even know I was coming to a musical.” I didn’t even know I was coming to a musical. What?

On the one hand, I guess this is possibly cool, because maybe it introduces more people to shows they haven’t seen, or to the glory of musical theater. On the other hand, what kind of audience is that? Literally not a single person around me cared about the show or knew who was in it. Oh, actors, I hope you’re not getting a weird vibe in this venue.

Mel Brooks, Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Richard Kind, Rebecca Romijn, Dane Cook, Gary Beach, onstage doing speech after the curtain call in the The Producers at the Hollywood Bowl — Photo Credit: Playbill.com

Of course, the actors did have people supporting them there, so hopefully they were getting loving vibes. As I was walking around before the show, I instinctively stopped when I saw Justin Mikita (Jesse Tyler Ferguson’s boyfriend) talking to someone. My first reaction was to go up and gush with him about how we’re both so in love with his boyfriend. Then I remembered I don’t actually know this man. At all. I’ve only ever seen him from afar on Twitter. He doesn’t have a clue who I am. Not only that, we don’t even have an actual mutual friend, since Jesse Tyler Ferguson also does not know who I am. Then, Justin looked over at me, and I realized I was just standing there, staring at him.
I turned and walked away.

I’ll pick up with my thoughts on the show soon (after talking about this weekend’s races).

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

Montecito pre race — 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 wrist The 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

me sleeping after my first marathon — (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

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

protein bar gift on pillow — 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

Aurora after Fun in Sun race — 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.

yoga on the lawn — 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

Father and Son — 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.

Sun — 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).)

Michael Jackson holding onto trees in Earth Song — 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.)

Cool group dressed as kiss — 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.

Aurora big laughter — 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).

Marge Simpson as baby in small red plane — 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_of_the_groundlings_cast — 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 Marathon Picking 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 Marathon Picking 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 2012 I 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 Marathon I 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.

Tony Awards Party at My Place, Yo! – Part 2

June 12, 2012

Jim Parsons looking away/down during the Godspell performance on the Tony Awards — The audience reactions during the Godspell performance were absolutely priceless. (That’s Jim Parsons’)

Picking up from yesterday, I was talking about artists being relegated to commercial breaks.

For instance, Enda Walsh won for Best Book of a Musical. The snippet of speech I saw was excellent. He won a Tony for his incredible writing, so conceivably, he might have a way with words. Who knows? We didn’t get to see his full speech.

The Tonys do give Best Score during the telecast. Do you think the music is more important than the book? I don’t! The story is unbelievably important. You can have a bunch of catchy songs, but if you don’t give people an amazing story, the show isn’t going to resonate.

I know people always say that you don’t come out of the theater humming the book. True, but you do come out of the theater laughing, crying, both maybe – feeling something because of the story you heard.

I’m calling shenanigans on the Tonys for this. Adding to the ridiculousness of giving so many awards out during the commercials; many times the teensy, tiny bit of speeches that were played, were way overpowered by music.

While we’re talking about ridiculous things – and by ridiculous, I mean, ridiculously awesome – did you see Andrew Garfield’s face during the Godspell performance? Priceless. Completely priceless.

Oh man, and while we’re on performances… Hairspray on a cruise. There was a big to-do over this before the Tonys, with a petition going around about not having a non-Equity cast perform. (Note: I’ve heard from various sources that a couple of people in that cast are Equity. Some websites say no one is. There’s bunches of different information floating around.)

Andrew Garfield with huge, gaping mouth, clutching himself during the Godspell number on the Tony Awards 2012 — Andrew Garfield clutching himself during the Godspell performance

I’d never want it to sound as though I were putting down the entertainers in that show. I fully support anyone who’s out there trying to do any kind of art.

However, Actor’s Equity is something we strive to join. One of the best days of my life was the day I got my card. I cried when I got the call that I booked the job to earn it.

I’ll readily admit that some people who don’t have their card have worked their butts off longer than I have. Who gets her card, and who doesn’t isn’t always a measure of someone’s talent. For sure.

But still. I don’t think you put a cast under a non-union contract on the award show celebrating excellence in the highest level of professional theater. Right? (Not to sound like a theater snob… But, come on!)

I thought a lot of the performances were great. Neil Patrick Harris’ closing number, his almost-opening number, and the mash-up of best score winners were excellent.

How awesome was the surprise Jesse Tyler Ferguson cameo? (He is my favorite actor. He’s oh, so very brilliant.) The Porgy and Bess performance was great as well. I’m head over heels in love with Peter and the Starcatcher.

There were performances that confused me a little – Godspell performing despite the fact that it didn’t have a single nomination, Leap of Faith performing even though it had already closed. Hairspray. I know all the reasoning behind those performances – money. So maybe “confused” isn’t the right word for me, ’cause I don’t need the reasons explained to me. I just thought it was odd.

close-up on Andrew Garfield's face with huge, wide mouth during the 2012 Tony Awards — Let’s look at a close-up (even if it is blurry). I love his reaction so very much. I can’t get enough!

You know what we could’ve been seeing during those performances’ times? More speeches! But hey, that’s just my opinion. Some people want more performances and fewer speeches. You can’t please everybody.

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

Moving back to the life as a grown-up thing, how was my first crack at being a party hostess, you ask? (Thanks for asking.) I think it went pretty well! People seemed to have a lot of fun.

I did learn that even though I put in a new trash bag, and I put out a new roll of toilet paper before the party, you have to check those things. The toilet paper was almost completely out at the end of the night, and the trash was definitely full.

You’d think in all my years of helping out with big groups of people in musicals and running events, I’d be smart enough to have thought of that on my own, but nope. (I did make signs to the bathroom, though!)

I have such a respectful, tidy group of friends. It took all of 10 minutes to clean up.

I brought a lot of the leftovers down to the amazing front desk crew of the building, and now I get to enjoy being a popular, loved tenant for the next few days. Yay!

Tony Awards Party at My Place, Yo! – Part 1

June 11, 2012

group of people at Aurora's tony party

I don’t know if you’ve gotten the memo, but I’m a grown-up! Kind of. Not really.

But, I do have a grown-up’s apartment! I got the deal of the century on this place, and I adore it. When I moved in, after much talking back and forth, my roommate convinced me that we should get cable. (I try to be a cool, compromising person. Sometimes. And this was one of those times.)

So I’ve gotten a television, and gotten all spoiled. Since I am a total grown-up with posh amenities such as cable, I decided to have people over… you know, as grown-ups are wont to do.

The party was populated mainly by the theater-loving folks from my improv class. (And Josh (my friend from the Grand Canyon) spent his last night in town Tony-partying down with us.)

We had food, fun, and did the whole filling out of ballots thing. Amanda won first prize: a $15 Chipotle gift certificate. Her boyfriend, Pete, won 2nd: a coloring book. Jackie won third: a hug. (I would’ve held my own pretty well in this contest, but I was the host, so I precluded myself.)

Amanda and Pete - Tony Pool Winners — We took this from the absolute worst angle to get any light on the faces of the winners of the Tony Prediction Pool.

I am so glad I found Amanda out here in LA. She adores theater as well, and knows more about it than I do. She’s hilariously funny, as well as a total sweetheart. We lived in the same area of Astoria at the same time back when we didn’t know each other! It’s as though we were meant to be friends.

Now that all the gushing and bragging about being a grown-up is over, let’s get into all the fun details of the show itself! What did I think of the actual telecast? Well, thank you for asking!

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

First off, there was SO much singing and dancing! Goodness gracious. I’m not trying to hate on singing and dancing. I love singing and dancing. I’ve made it pretty clear on this blog that I am in awe on Jason Michael Snow. (So. talented. It. hurts.) I was of course incredibly happy to see his brilliance during the opening number.

Jared (who is no longer the understudy, but the full time Elder Cunningham!) also rocked it out in the opening number! (I’m ridiculously happy for him. It’s so nice to see his sweet excitement as a bunch of his dreams come true.)

On the subject of people for whom I’m ridiculously happy, 3 of my classmates from the Commercial Theatre Institute won Tonys last night! Amazing, right?

(I almost didn’t put that line in here, because I don’t want to sound as though I think I’m so cool ’cause I know a couple of people. I mean, we all know people. We’re all just 6 degrees separated from everybody else. Plus, it’s obvious that I’m not all that cool. I was in Los Angeles when the Tony Awards were happening, after all.)

Living in California is of course lame for a ton of reasons, but the one that jumps to mind when talking about the Tonys is not getting to see the show until 3 hours after everyone else.

Neil Patrick Harris and Jared Gertner — Look at Jared with Neil Patrick Harris!

When ordering pizza for the party, I opened a new window on my computer. (Of course Playbill.com is my homepage.) Sure enough, there’s a banner across the top of Playbill’s website saying who won for best orchestration. I was doing my best to have a media blackout, but you can’t escape!

While I’m complaining, let’s jump back to this idea of SO much singing and dancing. If I want to go to a musical, I’ll go to a musical. If I want to see the culmination of people’s decades of hard work as they experience the moment they dreamed of as a child, I’ll watch an awards show. Please, please Tony Awards, I am begging you, pleading with you – stop giving so many Tonys outside of the telecast, only showing us snippets coming back from, or going into commercial.

Every single person who helped put on a show is important. If no one designed anything, and no one wrote anything, we wouldn’t have the shows we have. My high school teacher had to drill it into our brains a million times that truly, every person honestly did matter. You know one of the reasons it was so hard for high schoolers to believe that? Because things such as the Tonys relegate artists to the commercial breaks.

Not to stop mid-rant or anything, but I need to break this up into another post. So, buckle up for a rant continuation tomorrow!

Yeah, I’m So Not Running Every Weekend

June 10, 2012

Lisa Simpson on top of a mountain in a strong stance, looking in the distance

Let me make this super clear in the first sentence that the 52 half marathons in 52 weeks is still on like Donkey Kong. For sure. Nothing will keep me from that.

But if you take a look at the schedule, you’ll see that there are a number of weekends where I double up, and some where there are no races.

When I started this challenge, it sort of stemmed from a friend/co-worker saying that he thought it was pretty neat that I was doing a race every week (back when I was starting out with 5ks/10ks), and that I should try to keep it up for a year, or something like that.

That was a great idea that grew into 52 half marathons in 52 weeks – which I’ve always phrased that way because I knew that the schedule would not work out perfectly to have one a weekend for the year – especially if I wanted to run a bunch of various series and things that all had to fit together like a puzzle.

I kept an underlying fight going to do some kind of running event every weekend – a 5k, a relay, anything.

I adore running. I could never say enough about how much it adds to my life. And I love running events. Meeting new people is awesomely fun. Wearing medals is sweet. But sometimes, I want to sleep. Or I want to try a new adventure. Or I want to just. be. on. a treadmill. (I love treadmills.)

From a practical standpoint, 52 half marathons in 52 weeks is expensive. I’ve had some help here and there from amazingly kind strangers, blog readers, and friends. A few sweet race directors have given me steeply discounted or free race entries. I appreciate all of it a ton. All of it helps. Nonetheless, it’s still quite expensive.

I think I have 10-ish weekends that don’t have races. Ten 5k entry fees would add up – and I’d have to get to those races somehow. (Some are easier/cheaper to get to than others.) So, I am making the practical decision to keep on going with the goal that you are following. (Thank you, by the way.) But I’m dropping the little extra side thing that you may or may not have even noticed I was trying to keep going as well.

When I began doing 5ks and 10ks every weekend it was to make sure that I kept running. I could not let myself give up (as I kept doing in 2010/2011 every time I thought it was taking too long to get back into running shape).

Homer Simpson kneeling holding a small amount of money with a sad look — Oh, I love running events… But I’d really rather put this money toward another writing class (or a ticket to see Jesse Tyler Ferguson in “The Producers” at the Hollywood Bowl) than more 5ks and 10ks.

Thankfully, at this point, it’s hard not to run. I’m still not fast (faster, though) or in awesome shape (awesome-er shape, though). Running has become a large part of my life again. I’m not worried that skipping out on racing on some weekends will do anything bad. I jumped on the treadmill and was thankful that I got a day away from the hot, hot sun.

Josh (from the Grand Canyon) came into town this weekend. He’s getting more fit by the minute! He lives and works at the Grand Canyon for goodness sakes. We worked out together while he was here, and I could barely keep up! So, I am tired. And I desperately want to enjoy a weekend here and there without a race.

Therefore, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

I hope this post didn’t come off as chock full of excuses. I believe in setting the bar high for myself and keeping goals.

I also believe in adapting, and not chaining myself to something that I’m unhappy doing just because at one point I said that that was what I was deciding to do.

I’ve seen too many examples of people feeling miserable over things they force themselves to do down to the letter, only because at some point they said that’s how they’d do them. It’s a great lesson I’m thankful to have seen. And I’m gonna to try to learn from it. Things change. Adapting is important.

In conclusion:

Running = Amazing, makes me ecstatic!

52 half marathons in 52 weeks = So stoked about it. Having a blast.

Limitless possibilities for weekends that don’t include half marathons: I’m joyous and free!

(#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.

(#19) Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego – Part 2 (Struggling Through The First 5k)

June 7, 2012

I left of with starting the race.

One of the things I often say in real life (but I don’t know if I say it on the blog that much… or ever) is that the first mile is always the hardest.

You’ve woken up at a crazy hour of the morning, then waited in your corral for a while. An hour later, once you cross the start line, the thoughts start flooding in. “Am I crazy?” “I’m tired.” “Running is hard.” “I want to slow down.” “I think I overestimated my abilities. It’s possible I shouldn’t be here.”

I thought that perhaps I was in over my head trying to keep up with the 3 hour pacer. But, come on. Right now I’m only trying to make it to the first mile marker. I can at least do that, right?

Backtracking for a second, the water tent by the start was out of water in the morning. So, I added the, “oh my gosh, I’m not hydrated enough!” and “I’m thirsty; If I can feel thirst, I’m already under-hydrated” doubts to my mind mix.

Re-un-backtracking, I was so pleased to see the 1st mile marker! Woo hoo! I was able to keep up with everyone for a mile!

After hearing Deena Kastor and the pacers speak at the expo about latching on, trusting your pacer, and just having fun; I came to the race without my running app, music, or anything. (Well, I did have a mini-bagel. More on that later. But, I didn’t have any distractions or fancy math contraptions.) I put all my trust in Joy (and annoyingly asked her at the end of every mile how we were doing).

After this first mile, we were at a 12:30 pace. We kept pretty much the same pace for the 2nd mile.

I didn’t see Kathleen or Sherri again basically after the start, but Brandon’s pretty sure we didn’t lose them until the end of mile 2. A part of me wanted to drop off myself, but I thought, “I’ll just try to make it through the first 5k with everyone.”

Somewhere in mile 2 or 3, we passed this huge theater-looking place. A humongous organ was being played there. It was cool, though I could never tell you where to go see it. I had no idea where we were in the scheme of San Diego. (As you might know, I have an incredible (read: absolutely awful) sense of direction and sense of bearings. I pretty much barely ever know where I am.)

As we were running, we passed Joy’s coach from the San Diego track club. He was standing by with a megaphone, encouraging everyone that ran by. He gave a shout out to Joy when we passed, and I yelled back my thanks for sending her out with us.

We passed this big church group with people yelling about turning away from sin for fear of burning for eternity. My group had a lot of little jokes flying about how if they really wanted people to listen, they’d have brought water. Or, they’d be encouraging these hard working instead of trying to strike fear in people.

Members of our little running group also said that if they really want to get people when they’re most vulnerable – meet them in mile 13, not mile 3. You may have had to have been there to understand the loud, brash, off-putting nature of the repetitive, scary, sign-wiedling group; and to understand the inflections and quick wit of the runners around me, which made it such a hilarious fun, brain break that helped me keep running with these funny people.

It was definitely a struggle to keep up in mile 3, but Joy was an amazing pacer. (Brandon was very encouraging as well.) Deena Kastor had signed the back of Joy’s shirt at the expo; anytime I wanted to fade, I looked at the signature, chased Deena’s words of latching on and not letting go.

We made it through the first 5k with a time of 39:21 – my fastest 5k time ever (including inside or outside of a half marathon).

Months ago, when I did my first sub 40 minute 5k, I went straight for a curb and sat down, huffing and puffing, totally spent. This time, I kept on going for another 10.1 miles. I didn’t finish this race with a fast time, but I still see improvement that I’m happy about.

As we went downhill on the highway, Joy told me to focus on my stride. She definitely distracted me while I was tired. Smart things about posture, strides, and everything kept coming from Joy. She was bright a ray of positive energy, all about believing in everyone.

This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 9 (My Blood Pressure is Too Low)

June 6, 2012

little brownstone neighborhood in Boston — This was the kind of beautiful neighborhood I was walking through. (Photo credit: VisitBoston.com… I think, hopefully…))

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

Last week, I was about to leave for another weekend of work out of town.

I left my apartment with thank you cards in hand for the doctors and nurses who’d taken care of me the previous week.

The hospital was on the way to the bus station. I thought I’d drop the cards off, then head for New York.

I was not feeling well at all when I left my apartment. I was quite dizzy, and having some trouble staying upright. But, I had just been in the hospital the previous week. I already knew I had a heart condition. What more could I do? I figured I’d tough it out. I had to go to work, after all.

I headed for the bus station, walking down the beautiful brick sidewalk along my street. I’m feeling dizzy. I have to stop a couple of times to catch my breath and get reoriented. (And this is not a long walk. It’s less than 1/2 a mile.) I hold onto little fences by the sidewalk along the way.

When someone is struggling this much to walk, they probably should see a doctor. Yeah, I know. I don’t know what I was thinking at the time. I guess maybe I thought there was nothing else anyone could do for me, or maybe I just didn’t want to be a problem kid or something…

Not surprisingly, I go down before I reach the bus station. I open my eyes to two sweet girls on the phone getting help. They wait with me until an ambulance comes. Back I go to Tufts Medical Center. When I get there, the nurses and I joke about how the ambulance was a door to door delivery service for me and my thank you cards.

My blood pressure and heart rate were taken. Not surprisingly, they were both super low. (I don’t remember the exact numbers, so for those of you medicine-y types who like specific numbers… sorry.)

My heart rate and blood pressure are already, on a normal day, lower than the low side of the recommended range. Once I was on beta blockers, I was a walking zombie. A doctor (or was it a nurse? It was 3 years ago. I don’t remember every detail…) even commented, “Why would they put you on beta blockers?”

I don’t know. I’m not a doctor.

I’m not blaming any doctors. They have to make a billion decisions a day. Doctors were able to find a tiny abnormality on a test that saved my life. I had doctors that paid meticulous attention to everything, and really looked out for me. I have an unlimited amount of love for them.

I get hooked up to an IV of – I don’t know, saline? Whatever blood pressure raising IV cocktail doctors give you, that’s what I had.

They kept me overnight for observation, which drove me crazy. I can’t remember a time I’d ever called off of work (before this month – considering I’d just called out of another show earlier, blegh). All of a sudden, in a span of 2 or so weeks, I called out from 6 performances of a show, and a tape day for a TV show. Who am I?

Anyway, slumber party in the hops. This is where I’ll pick up next time.

(#19) Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego – Part 1 (Still Mourning My Perfect Pants)

June 5, 2012

What a beautiful day for a race!

I can hardly imagine a better start to a race day. I stayed with my incredible friend Sheeva. She’s supremely talented, incredibly brilliant, and a complete sweetheart. I adore her. (She’s Fareed’s sister, in case you’re keeping track of all the characters mentioned here on the blog.)

Sheeva was busy the night I stayed with her, which worked out perfectly because I went to bed around 3:30pm! I was so rested and refreshed the morning of the race. She actually got up at 5:50 in the morning to drive me to the race! I offered to walk since she was only about 2 miles away, but she is the ultimate host and insisted on driving. Well, if you say so, I’m not gonna turn down a ride!

I’m sure you’re all on the edge of your seats as to what I chose to wear after the great Portland Pants Debacle of May 2012. My new pants that I’d ordered hadn’t arrived yet, and I wanted to wear something comfortable ’cause I was planning on kicking butt and taking names in this half marathon. So, I wore the old cutoff pants that I’d ruined in Portland.

They may expose the bottom of my legs, but everything above the lower part of my calves is so unbelievably comfortable. I don’t even know what type of fabric is used. The label just says “Calvin Klein Performance.” Whatever type of fabric it is, it’s magical. I won’t be able to part with these pants for good until they’re just scraps of fabric that can no longer be worn. (Of course that will probably never happen because these are such quality pants.)

In case you’re worried that I say all of this, in the product placement world that we live in, because I get free pants; let me assure you, I do not get free pants. These sentiments come from my heart and my tear-filled eyes.

If you’re curious about the current pants situation, here’s where things are. Jeanette, one of my friends and lovely blog followers commented on the Portland entry with a link to pants that looked incredible similar to my pants. I ordered them. They weren’t in time for the race, but I did get them on Monday. Unfortunately, they were not the pants. The fabric was much thinner.

I emailed Calvin Klein (the company, not the man), being very specific about the pants I was looking for. I told them I’d been searching through tons of websites and wasn’t having any luck. I begged for any information about where said pants might exist somewhere in the world. Alas, they wrote back and said they didn’t have any information on pants from four years ago.

I’ll never have good pants again.

So, I come up to my corral dancing in my fashion faux pas. They’re only that was now because I mangled them. Before I ruined these gorgeous pants, they were not a fashion mistake.

I met up with Joy, the 3 hour pacer. I figured, it’s a beautiful day, on a great course with lots of flat and downhill sections. I’m gonna see how long I can keep up with her. We had a good little new group of friends. Sherri and her friend, Kathleen, were doing their first half marathon. Brandon was also a first timer who had decided only a couple of weeks prior to sign up for the endeavor.

Our group was rounded out by Marie, who caught the running bug last year; and Taiwo, one of Joy’s friends who joined us once we were closer to the start.

We all talked as our corral got inched toward the start line. I learned that Joy is from Turkey. She’s a nurse who’s about to start studying to become a doctor!

After more than an hour had gone by, our corral started. (Yay!) Meb Keflezighi, the Olympian who won the race, was crossing the finish line about a minute and a half after we crossed the start line.

How did my race go? I’ll tell you now, I did not finish in under 3 hours. But how long was I able to keep up with Joy and the gang? I’ll continue the story tomorrow.

Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Expo – Part 3 (Fun, Fake Blackjack Table)

June 4, 2012

Ryan dealing chips in fake blackjack at the RnR Vegas booth at the Rock 'n' Roll San Diego Marathon Expo 2012

Picking up from yesterday –

The Rock ‘n’ Roll series always has a booth set up to sign people up for more races in their series. This time, in addition to that, they had a special large, swanked out booth specifically for the Vegas race.

I walked by a blackjack (for play money) table where this kid, Aidan was being a total pro. It was hilarious.

The Rock ‘n’ Roll series people said they want to put Rock ‘n’ Roll Vegas in the same league as Boston or New York. Well, good luck. That’s gonna be a humongous feat to accomplish. Of course, why dream if you don’t dream big, right? So, kudos to them for setting their sights high. I’m can’t wait to run this race in December and see what all the hype is about.

Ryan, the dealer, let me in on blackjack, giving me some totally-not-for-real-money chips. He was hilarious. He was cracking jokes and had everybody in stitches when he would do the hand wave thing pretending to making gestures for the imaginary security cameras.

We played for a while until at some point, I went all in. My thinking was, “I’ll leave this booth, or at least be fake rich.” I hit on 19 (with the dealer showing a face card), and I got the 2 of hearts! 21, baby! Ryan, Aiden, and I all cheered as though it were totally real. By then end of my time at the table, I had turned 100 fake dollars into 1,900 fake dollars! I couldn’t make my lucky streak end. So at some point, I decided to scoot the fake money over to Aiden (although he didn’t need it). He was doing a great job becoming fake rich all on his own. I moseyed on to more booths as Aidan probably become a fake millionaire.

There was a new protein bar here that I hadn’t seen before – PR bars. They were pretty delicious. This expo had tons of snacks that I like – LaraBars, Clif stuff, Marathon bars, and these new PR bars. I like ’em all. And I like ’em all even more when they’re free at expos!

At this expo, there were two – that’s right, two – booths giving free massages: The Manchester Grand Hyatt of San Diego, and MassageHeights.com.

playing fake blackjack with Ryan and Aiden at the RnR Vegas booth at the Rock n Roll San Diego Marathon Expo 2012

Craig from Massage Heights gave me the best massage I’ve ever had in my life. I told him I was going to be a rock star someday, and when I am, he can come around Europe as the tour massage therapist. Or, you know, I’ll just get a massage from him if I’m ever in San Diego and have disposable money for massages. (It could happen.)

The best thing about Craig was that when I asked, “Are you tired of giving massages,” his response was something like, “How could I get tired of doing what I love to do?” He talked about how he adored his job; it was his calling. Even when I was waiting in line, I could see that he always had a smile on his face. His energy was infectious.

There was a huge booth at this expo for McDonald’s. Seriously. ‘Cause obviously the first thing I think of when I think of McDonald’s is marathon runners.

As I was getting ready to leave, my friends Marty and Wendy were starting their volunteer shifts. I stopped by, and said hi for a second. They invited me to stay and volunteer with them. And I would’ve loved to have a volunteer adventure with them. (They’re pretty wonderful, and I kind of adore them.) But alas, I needed to go sleep!

I went to bed around 3:30pm. It was awesome.

Now that the expo has finally been sufficiently (okay, more than sufficiently) covered, I can tell you about the race tomorrow! (Spoiler alert: It was phenomenal – one of my favorites of the year.)

Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Expo – Part 2 (Brooks Booth Theme & SoCal Race Series Mini-Rant)

June 3, 2012

an unexpected friend from high school in a toga evaluating someone's form at the Brooks heaven display at the Rock n Roll San Diego marathon expo booth 2012 — Yep. I went to high school with that dude.

Picking up from yesterday –

Brooks brought a whole new theme today. Usually, it’s a carnival theme; today, they had a “pure running heaven” theme, with someone playing the harp, big golden gates, and all that jazz.

Get this. Someone I went to high school with was working in the Brooks heaven display, all dressed up in a little toga outfit and everything!

We said hi quickly, but didn’t get to catch up since he was working and all.

I felt a bit bad for people around me today, ‘cause I think I may have been a little crazy – even more so than usual – to everyone I interacted with. I had stayed up all night in the hopes of being tired enough to go to bed at a normal hour and sleep a lot before this race. (How many times am I talking about staying up all night on this blog?)

I have a weird sleep schedule, and usually go to bed at the time I’d need to be getting up for the race, so I needed to do something about it. What I’ve found is:

Stay up all night leading into the race – not fun. Stay up all night the night before the race, sleeping like mad the night leading into the race – actually works out pretty well. (Makes sense, right?)

Since I was coming off of no sleep, I sort of had a bit of the crazy eyes, and the roundabout, slow thoughts and speech delivery. But I held it together in an okay way… I think.

Somehow, Drea and Rusty in the Santa Barbara Half Marathon booth dealt with me in that state, and really made me want to do their race. They had lots of energy, and seemed really passionate about running.

Brooks shoes Pure Running Heaven display at the Rock n Roll San Diego Marathon Expo 2012

I had never really thought about the Santa Barbara Half Marathon as a race I was excited about (or even sure I was doing) until I met them.

Why you ask? The Santa Barbara Half Marathon is the final half marathons in the Southern California Half Marathon Series. Don’t even get me started on that series.

Actually, what am I saying? This is a blog. Of course get me started on it!

In the SoCal Half Marathon Series, they give a list of races as possibilities. If you run 4 (including the final race – the Santa Barbara Half Marathon) , you get a special medal at the end. You all know I’m total a sucker for medals.

I don’t love speaking ill about things; I don’t like tearing people down when there’s already so much in this world that will tear you down. But, I’m still a human being with opinions, and my opinion is that I don’t much like this series. Everything I hear from them never seems genuine. The only vibe I’ve ever gotten is that they’re out for money.

They don’t seem like runners who want to make extra money. They seem like people who want money and happen to get it from races. Yay, capitalism and everything. Go make your money, for sure! But, please, make a quality product/campaign/whatever you’re selling. Generally, that means be passionate about what you’re starting.

They didn’t have the website go live until after the first race had already happened! I’m on their mailing list. They could’ve easily emailed and said, “Sorry we’re having trouble getting the site up, but the series is still happening. The first race will be this one.” But they didn’t.

angelic woman wearing all white with halo playing in the Brooks Running booth at the Rock n Roll San Diego Half Marathon 2012 One of the races on their schedule got cancelled. There was no apology or anything. They just eventually changed it, and moved on. Maybe I’m getting the wrong vibe, but the one I’m getting is that they don’t care about the participants.

Obviously, I have free will. I could choose not to do this series. You cannot boycott this series, because it’s made up of a lot of individual races (which I guess you could boycott, but it wouldn’t be as effective. They wouldn’t be able to tell you weren’t running because of the series).

All of that to say, I saw a booth about a race I wasn’t excited about that made me actually want to do the race, instead of begrudge it as a “ugh, I guess I’ll do this one ’cause I want the extra medal, but considering the series it’s in, it’s probably not gonna be very fun” race.

Also, unicorns, rainbows, and ’80s pop music. I wanted to leave you with great, wonderful, happy imagery ’cause I don’t like to end on negativity. (Sometimes a girl’s gotta call someone out though, you know?)

Surprisingly, I have even more to say about this expo, and I will finish it all out tomorrow with part 3.

Rock ‘n’ Roll San Diego Expo – Part 1 (Deena Kastor and Race Pacers Speak)

June 2, 2012

Long line of people waiting to get into the Rock 'n' Roll San Diego Expo 2012 — Small line to the left is to go to Starbucks. Super long line on the right doesn’t being to encompass the whole crowd.

Why does this expo get a 3 part blog post? I was at this sprawling expo for 4 1/2 hours. (Huh. I was at the expo longer than I’ll be out on the course.)

When I got there about 10 minutes before it started, there was a humongous line to get in. I could not believe my eyes! Why are there so many people here chomping at the bit? If it was to avoid the crowds, mission failed.

I know I couldn’t believe them, yet I was one of them. I got into San Diego at 8:30, and figured I’d just go be one of the first few people to trickle in before people crowds started showing up. Nope. Once the expo started and the music started pumping, it took two songs to get everyone through the doors!

I had a good amount of time to kill ‘cause I wasn’t going to my friend’s apartment ‘til 2. For the first time, I listened to one of the panels.

Deena Kastor – Olympic Bronze Medalist – spoke today. I loved watching her in Spirit of the Marathon, and she was everything I’d hope she’d be today. I saw her interacting with the group of pacers before the show, when people weren’t really looking. She seemed to be outgoing and very sweet.

I jotted down some of her awesome nuggets of wisdom.. The panel was about running with a pacer. She said, “Latch on and don’t let go.” You could tell in her eyes, her body, and her voice that she was determined, and really meant that you do not let go in a race.

She also said something I think is great to remember while running a race. “You’ve done the work. Tomorrow is your reward. Enjoy the celebration.” Do you love that? “Enjoy the celebration.” I love that – that a race is a celebration instead of a stressful thing or a chore or anything like that. Of course, in my case, a lot of races are more like training runs since I’m doing so many. Either way, I thought it was a great piece of advice.

Deena Kastor speaking at the Rock n Roll San Diego Expo 2012

She said “enjoy the journey.” Not to get too deep on her words, but I took that as a great reminder to enjoy the journey of life as well. Like a race, life is sometimes crazy fun, going nice and smooth, with everyone cheering you on. Sometimes you’re trudging uphill in the stifling heat, and all the Gatorade’s gone. You have to keep going. But a half marathon is an experience every time. As is life. So, as Deena says, enjoy your journey.

The pacers spoke after her. The main advice they gave to for running with a pacer was – trust. They basically said, “trust your pacer. Don’t look at your Garmin. You don’t need to worry about your time. We’ll be doing all the work for you. You enjoy your race.”

Good advice that’s easy to say, hard to do sometimes. Obviously, in the end, you’re just running with a stranger. You don’t know if they are going to run at the same perceived effort throughout, or if you’ll perceive effort the same way. People are different. Most of the pacers went up there and some something along the lines of, “My first mile will be 9 minutes. My last mile will be 9 minutes. That’s our race, the whole way.”

One pacer said that he likes to do the first few miles slower to warm up, then runs a few minutes faster in the middle. Some people like to do their races this way. It makes my head explode. But he’s taking people to a 1:45 half marathon, so I definitely won’t be trying to pace with him. No need to be worried about colliding strategies when he’ll be well over halfway done before my corral crosses the start.

The 3:55 (full) marathon pacer says he has trivia questions for every mile! So cool, right? Although I won’t be running with him either.

This is where I’ll pick up tomorrow. There were tons of booths to get through!

(#18) City of Laguna Hills Memorial Day Half Marathon

May 31, 2012

Marines running in a block together at the City of Laguna Hills Memorial Day Half Marathon 2012 35 minutes before the race, I awoke from my nap in my car, by the start line. I pressed snooze. 5 minutes later, I snoozed some more. Eventually, I got up with just enough to lace up my shoes, go grab my bib, and get to the starting line.

I took it really easy on this race. In the first mile, a large block of Marines came running through, doing their running cadence.

I kept up with them for… not long. But I did enjoy running with them while I could. They were inspiring the runners around them. We were all trying to keep up while taking pictures and video.

After they passed, I slowed down, and noticed a number of adorable kids in this race. (Don’t worry, there weren’t any 7-year-olds running a half. The 5k (and 10k) was mixed in with the half marathon.)

First, there was this little boy who started picking up all of the cups on the ground. His mom kept saying, “Henry. Henry! You can stop picking them up, honey. Other people are gonna pick these up. Come on, Henry.” It was so cute! He really, really wanted to keep picking up the cups. I was gone before his mom had convinced him to stop picking up cups. Maybe he just stayed there until they were all in the trash. Who knows? He was very determined.

Not long after, there was this little girl who saw and incline, and while jumping up and down who said, “Mom! Look. Where there’s an uphill, there’s a downhill!” Her optimism was sweet. (Even though her statement always true for races, depending on the course.)

Probably around 6ish miles in, there were tiny, young siblings in competition with each other to see who get to a cup the quickest when someone dropped one. They looked as though they were having the time of their lives.

Back to non-kids, somewhere around mile 2, a few women running with dogs passed me! I did not realize dogs would be running in this race. Luckily, I didn’t get eaten.

I happily wore my PureConnects today. They’re breaking in well, getting more and more awesome.

(Skip this paragraph to avoid hearing about gross stuff – specifically a blister. (Sorry!) (You’re welcome for not putting up a picture.)) I still ended up with a blister on the bottom of my foot! That might be the worst place to have a blister on your foot. It was huge. And was covered by a callus. I popped it. Now there’s a big hole of skin where it was (ew). (I know. I shouldn’t pop them (even though I love to). They’re nature’s band-aids.) Now, I have a teeny blister growing within the hole left by the last one. My feet are a mess. (But my shoes are still awesome.)

In the second half of the race, we wound around a paved path on a trail. Runners around me started talking about snakes. I thought they were being silly, but I saw plenty of signs about watching out for snakes. Later, I even heard the sound of a rattlesnake. I never actually saw one, but it was odd to hear the sound in real-life nature. I’m so used to hearing it in a sound effect bin at work (on Swamp People).

City of Laguna Hills Half Marathon 2012 medal

Someone had written “Big Ring Century” about a billion times in chalk on the road throughout the race. It sounded like a realtor or something. About the hundredth time I saw it, I was finally curious enough to look it up on my iPhone. You can tell I don’t ride bikes enough (read: ever (other than that one bike race).) Of course, century referred to a 100 mile bike ride. Mystery solved.

In the last 4 or 5ish miles, there was a woman who was going around my speed. She passed me once. Once she passed me, she started jogging a little. She may have been doing this for her own personal gain, but since it started right after she passed me, I assumed it was directed toward me. You want a race? It’s on like donkey kong, now!

I sped up, and passed her. Later, she got fairly far past me as I talked to a woman doing her first half marathon. I politely excused myself to catch up to this woman we could still see in the distance. Caught her. Passed her. I won our little race that we may or may not have been having.

At the finish line, a local beauty queen (in her tiara and sash) put the medal on me. I took another short nap in the car, then headed back to LA.

I finished with an extremely laid back time of 3:45:46.

I’ll be kicking butt and taking names in San Diego this weekend!

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 8 (My Dad Came to Visit)

May 30, 2012

The Incredibles husband and wife team in front of trees. from Pixar. — The mode my dad immediately jumps to if his girl is even maybe possibly in a bit of danger. (Photo credit: Disney (The Incredibles))

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

Picking up from last week –

So, I got out of the hospital and was put on this lame medicine.

I’m pretty sure I wasn’t necessarily awesome at taking it. But, I took it most of the time. Sometimes.

You’re not allowed to run for a little while after having an ablation. I forget how many days, but I remember it being a nuisance – not because I love running so much, but because I ran around a bit in my daily life.

Immediately after the play I was working on closed that Saturday night (October 24th), I went to Pennsylvania. I had work for America’s Got Talent bright and early the next morning. My dad drove me down there (on his way back to Ohio). So, I guess it wasn’t all bad that he came out for my little heart procedure.

Obviously, it’s never bad when my dad comes to visit. If I had my way about it, we’d hang out every day (at Planet Smoothie, preferably). But, I’m a grown up. A brave, brave grown up. And I don’t need someone to come to the hospital for me for a tiny procedure.

Yes, this is the same “grown up” who immediately called her Daddy when she didn’t know anything about renting cars, or running out of gas, or any number of other grown up things.

I think, in actuality, it was more that I didn’t want to be “weak.” I didn’t like that there was this thing going on with my body (therefore my life) that I didn’t control. Maybe if nobody acknowledged it, and everybody was just quiet and left me alone, I wouldn’t really have a heart problem. That is how things work, right?

But you know how some parents are. It’s like a bat (child) signal goes off. “My baby might be in trouble? I’ll save you!” [*Music plays.*]

Even though I’m a grown up, by golly!

So, I work all weekend, and it goes fine. It’s a little rough being a production assistant who can’t run much. Luckily my main job was typing all day. So, it all worked out.

During the week that followed, the medicine seemed to be making me feel worse. (Remember in part 6 when I said I started out with a low heart rate and low blood pressure? That was possibly some foreshadowing I was working in there.)

By Thursday/Friday, it was getting to the point that walking half a mile utterly exhausted me. Standing up made me dizzy. You’d think I would’ve been smart enough to realize the medicine might be partially at fault, and to stop taking it (especially considering how much I hate medicine!). Or at least I might be smart enough to talk to my doctor. Well, you’d be wrong on both counts.

On Friday the 30th, I left my apartment to go to New York City to work another America’s Got Talent audition.

Does something happen on my way to leave? Find out next week.

Traveling to Laguna Hills – Part 2 (Picking Up The Car & Getting There)

May 29, 2012

Marge, Maggie, Lisa, Bart, and Homer Simpson singing while driving in the snow to Alaska from the Simpsons movie. Picking up from Part 1 –

When I went to pick out my car from the Alamo lot at some crazy early time in the morning, I saw someone sleeping (tossing and turning a little) in the back of one of the cars. It looked to be a homeless man.

I almost went in and alerted the Alamo people that there was someone sleeping in one of their cars. Then I thought, that homeless man is really smart – to think about a parked rental car as a place to sleep, figure out a way to get into the Alamo lot without attracting attention, and pick a car at the end of a row where he hopefully wouldn’t be noticed. He’s also super brave to be willing to try it. I know how wonderful sleep is, and how horrible it is when it’s always interrupted. So, I let him rest.

I know Alamo can’t have homeless people sleeping in all their cars. But, I thought the man’s ingenuity and bravery should be rewarded with a somewhat good night’s sleep. Who am I to decide what he deserves or make decisions about people loitering in other people’s property? But, who am I to nark on him either, right?

Also, what do I know? For all I know, it’s someone who works there, who from my angle happened to look homeless.

I walked away and picked my car – a red one this time. Stylish, right? (It was a Corolla for anyone wondering). And radio stations were playing my jams all night/morning long!

Al Green in front of a microphone (in a red tie) with a huge smile. — Sing it to me, Al!

I kept landing on all these great oldies songs – Al Green, Marvin Gaye, and all that good stuff. “Let’s Stay Together” came on twice while I was driving. Twice. I was grooving and singing my face off. You should’ve been there. It was pretty much a party.

I passed the exit for Disneyland twice (the way there and the way back). It’s weird to pass Disneyland and not go. It’s not everyday that you pass “the happiest place on Earth.” It’s a little off living pretty close to it, yet never coming close enough to remember that I do.

Me driving by Disneyland: “Oh my gosh, look Disneyland! Disneyland? Geez, when you’re close enough to Disney, you should probably go, right?… Oh, wait. I could come here any day that I wanted to. There is a bus that drives right by my apartment at least once an hour that says ‘Disneyland’ on the top.”

When I arrived back at Alamo, I heard the sweet-voiced recording on loop that welcomes you back, and tells you not to forget any of your belongings. It’s sort of like Disney after all; your ride is coming to an end. Time to raise up your lap bar, exit your vehicle, and go get your funnel cake.

(No, there were not actually lap bars or funnel cakes.)

Postscript: This doesn’t have anything to do with the trip, but in case I don’t mention it anywhere else on the blog, later that night I went to The Groundlings Theatre to see the absolutely hilarious show, The Black Version (created by the super talented Jordan Black). (Last night it featured the comedy stylings of guest star Wayne Brady.) If you live in LA and have not seen this show, get tickets immediately! So. funny.

Tomorrow is already Wednesday! So, I’ll continue with the Wednesday night series about that time I had a heart problem. After that, I still owe you the story of the half marathon itself (not just the drive down there)!

Traveling to Laguna Hills – Part 1 (Oh, That Whole Driving Concept)

May 28, 2012

Oh boy. Driving.

If you’re a reader of the blog, you know what a tenuous grasp I have on driving. And that I have a love/hate relationship with it. I think the same can probably be said for sleep.

I stayed up all night on Saturday night, saw the sun come up, and eventually made my way to bed on Sunday morning. The brilliant plan was to sleep all day on Sunday, and wake up in the late afternoon/night. I’d be ready to stay up all night to get to the rental car place at the airport, and make my way down to Laguna Hills.

I woke up at 11:30am on Sunday, and couldn’t get back to sleep. When my body finally asked to go to sleep, it was almost time to make my way to the airport to grab a rental car.

When will I learn that that brilliant sleep schedule idea never works out well the day before a race? I’ve tried it before with similar results. At least I wasn’t quite as tired this time.

Laguna Hills is only about an hour away from downtown Los Angeles, so you wouldn’t think I’d need that much time to get there.

But you have to factor in the time it takes to get to LAX, get the car rental shuttle, rent the car, get on the road, get lost, get un-lost, get lost closer to the race, get un-lost again, drive in a circle a couple of times, find a parking spot, pull in crooked, pull out, try again, eventually park, and get my race bib. I ended up leaving my house around 2:30am.

Shockingly, I didn’t get lost (or park incorrectly) as I’d predicted in my plan. I had to plan for it, ’cause it is me, after all. But I think I might getting a little bit better at this whole driving thing.

I am pretty floored at how much I’ve been driving in the last couple of months. Just think, it all started when I got stranded at the San Diego Greyhound station on my way to Lake Havasu.

The Jetsons driving in hover car through the air (past a sprockets place) — I was going caption “I’m just waiting for this day.” Although, I don’t know if driving through the sky would make things less or more stressful. Probably more, huh?

It never even occurred to me that renting a car could be an option, until I was basically forced to rent one.

I always figured if public transportation didn’t open early enough, I’d need to pay someone on TaskRabbit to drive me, or just go down the night before. After I survived a weekend with a rental car, it moved up pretty high on my transportation hierarchy.

(Of course, I’ll still only resort to a car when public transportation doesn’t open early enough to get me somewhere in time for a race.)

I will never understand how people drive all the time. Once every few weekends, in someone else’s car, I don’t mind. But everyday? I wouldn’t know how to survive. It’s so stressful. Merging. I can’t take it! And motorcycles! And bicycles! Oh the terrifying bicyclists.

Nonetheless, even through stress and my awful driving, I somehow I made it there and back without injury to me, or others, or any cars. Rad, right? (And I didn’t even get lost in either direction! What universe is this?)

Huh. I didn’t think I had this much to say about traveling/driving, but I suppose I do. I didn’t even get to the parts about this specific trip, such as possibly seeing a homeless man in the back of one of the rental car choices… I’ll talk about it tomorrow, then tell you all about the half marathon.

The Book of Mormon (The Musical, of Course) – Part 6 (The “What an Incredibly Small World” Chapter)

May 27, 2012

Andrew Rannells Believes (singing I Believe from The Book of Mormon) — Andrew Rannells wasn’t in the show that night, but he sure is in all the pictures when you Google anything having to do with The Book of Mormon.

I left off in Part 5 at The Book of Mormon lottery.

If I were a cast member in the show, I would love to walk down the street super nonchalantly through the throngs of fans as they wait for the lottery. “Oh yeah, no big deal. I just sing my face off in this show every night. Don’t sweat it. Oh, you love me in this show? Well, that’s mighty sweet of you. Thank you, thank you, adoring crowd. Thank you so much.”

The Book of Mormon lottery is one of the few places where people are celebrated for being single. When the lottery announcer guy says that someone is only taking one ticket, the crowd goes wild.

We all kept hoping that at least one of us would win the lottery tickets. Let me tell you, no one in my line family won. That’s the karma we got for trying to shoo people away. At least we were guaranteed standing room tickets.

The waiting time between the lottery announcement and buying standing room tickets was one of the longest hours of my life. We are all so tired! Please, I beg of you, sell us our tickets!

When the side window opened to sell the standing room tickets, my heart happily skipped a beat. The whole line got super stoked, and one by one we joyously bought our tickets.

I ended up grabbing a quick dinner with these two wonderful people I met in line – Lauren and Jake. They are doctors (who live in New York), so pretty much some of the coolest people ever. They were super lovely and funny and interesting. And as much as I loved hanging out with them, I still jetted off after 20 or so minutes, ‘cause I needed to down a venti caramel macchiato. I knew The Book of Mormon would keep me awake and attentive, but I also knew I wanted some sugar and caffeine coursing through my veins to make me a more agreeable, pleasant person.

I met up with Noah at that theater. There are a few things that are really cool about the standing room only seats. For one, you know everyone who’s standing around you since you spent the whole day in line with them. For another, you get to expel more energy while standing, which is good ’cause energy is flying at you from the cast members. (In the words of Danny Zuko, “it’s electrifying!”)

Josh Gad, Nikki M James, Andrew Rannells onstage in The Book of Mormon — Yep, still not in the show that night. (Neither is Josh Gad.) But still in all the production photos. (By the way, can you tell that Nikki M James is super giving it in this picture? Work that face, girl!)

Right before the show, Noah told me that he doesn’t really do Broadway musicals. He said he’d seen a few, but not liked any of them. The pressure is on! Luckily, I knew that this was the perfect musical for that kind of person. If you don’t generally like musical theater, and you don’t like this super pop culture-y, hilarious, contemporary musical either, chances are you are not going to like musicals. Sorry.

At intermission, he was still having fun. Here’s the crazy part about intermission. I started talking again with Lauren and Jake (and Noah). I mentioned doing 52 half marathons in 52 weeks. Lauren then asked if I had done Rock ‘n’ Roll New Orleans. “Yeah. I did.” Then she told me, “We sat in front of you on the plane!” What?! I kid. you. not.

They were in front of me on the plane ride to New York from New Orleans. They had overheard me talking to the stranger I’d met on the plane. I was partly scared by this thinking, “I’m pretty loud, huh? And they actually still remember what I was talking about? Geez, I hope I’m not running around the country always making a fool of myself.”

We couldn’t even get over it. The odds of these two medical residents, in this super populated city, who almost never have any time for themselves, not only being by me on the plane ride from their first half marathon, but also sitting (standing) by me at a Broadway show a month later is insanity!

The lights went down for the second act immediately after our humongous realization.

This is where I’ll pick up later with part 7 – the conclusion of this series.

The Book of Mormon (The Musical, of Course) – Part 5 (The “Waiting in Line on My Last Day in NYC” Chapter)

May 26, 2012

Boston_College_Rugby_Team_Picture — I kept imagining showing up to wait in the standing room line, and seeing this.

In part 4, I left off deciding I’d see The Book of Mormon again.

I tried to work it out to see it with Danielle (my new friend from Rock ‘n’ Roll New Orleans). She wanted to see the show, but was out of town while I was there. Bummer, I know.

I asked around, but everyone I knew had seen it or was busy. Yet again, I braved the standing room line by myself. And yet again, I did it on my last night in town.

I figured this would be the perfect way to end my awesome trip to New York. It was, but considering I left myself no wiggle room, I started having irrational fears. I daydreamed that an entire college rugby team would be in New York and show up at 8 in the morning, thwarting me from getting my tickets.

I decided to show up in the 6 o’clock hour (leaving Far Rockaway in the 4 o’clock hour). I didn’t have anything to do that day. I couldn’t sleep with an imaginary rugby team keeping me up. I might as well hang out in line.

I was the only one there for hours. I know we’ve already answered the age old question – “What time should you get in the standing room line for Book of Mormon tickets?” I think you can show up as late as 3pm (possibly even 4) on weekdays and most likely be okay. (On weekends, I’ve heard people get there as early as 6 or 7am, with the line halfway complete by 8.) But I just couldn’t take the chance!

As I walked to the Eugene O’Neil, I passed the Marquis Theatre where music from Evita is on loop 24 hours a day. I had a fleeting thought that it would be nice if they did that at The Book of Mormon. (Although, a lot of the fun for new audiences comes from surprises in the lyrics, so not really.)

After I’d waited an hour or two alone in line, the street needed to be hosed down. I stepped out of the way, toward the stage door, and had a nice conversation with Amir, the doorman. He was a sweetheart, giving me a folding chair to borrow for the rest of the day!

I saw some interesting characters on the street that morning. There was this weird man who stared at me, got pretty darn close to me, stared in my eyes, and spit by my feet. (Weird, right?) There was a woman who came over and said, “This show is worth every single second you’re sitting here.” I appreciated that (even though I already knew that to be a true statement).

Yet again (just like last time), I met an awesome random friend on the street who talked to me for part of the morning. His name was Noah, and I convinced him that he should come to the show with me that night.

Slowly but surely, the line started filling up. Peter (from the first time I did this) always referred to all of us as a “line family.” He was right. You become this fun little family for a day, learning a lot about people, looking out for them, sharing snacks and chairs and such. It’s a lot of fun.

big doorbell painted on the stage door (and the 9 Tony winning sign) at The Book of Mormon the musical at the Eugene O'Neil Theatre — How cool would it be to see this when you come into work everyday?

As we all waited in the line, we found out (I think through Twitter) that Andrew Rannells’ standby was going to be in as well. I won’t say bummer because of the stance I took for understudies/standbys just two short posts ago in this series. I didn’t know what to expect from Nic Rouleau. Andrew sings the house down every night, but I had seen him twice. I was ready to see what somebody else brought.

As the crowd for the lottery grew, we in the standing room line, started deviously plotting to scare some people away. (We acknowledged that we were being awful people.) We started weaving it into conversations that understudies for both leading men were in.

We figured people would start trickling away (considering how beside themselves people seemed when they found out Josh Gad wasn’t in last time). If a group of people had walked away when Josh was gone, with Josh and Andrew both gone, we must be able to thin out this lottery a little, right?

Wrong. Not one single person cared. Of course I wanted everyone to lovingly be on the side of standbys/understudies. But, come on! The one time people’s stubbornness and preconceived notions could’ve worked in our favor…

Oh well.

What happens in the lottery? I’ll continue in Part 6.

The Book of Mormon (The Musical, of Course) – Part 4 (The “Seriously, Jason Michael Snow” Chapter)

May 25, 2012

In part 3, I left off with the brilliance of Jason Michael Snow. Please enjoy this YouTube video of him performing one of my favorite songs (that he wrote).

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUnAuQ7GYTA]

Oh my gosh, I just love it too much. Jason Michel Snow is brilliant. Brilliant.

When I went to see Jared in the show, I was beyond excited to see him sing and act the heck out of it, but I was also unbelievably pumped to see Jason Michael Snow onstage again.

They didn’t do separate inserts for each understudy in the show that night. They had one insert with the night’s cast list in it. I didn’t read it thoroughly. I knew Jared was in. That’s what mattered to me.

The opening number started. I was so ready to hear Jason Michael Snow’s “hello.” But it wasn’t there.

Nick Spangler was there instead. Each actor is different and adorable in his own way. But in that moment, my eyes widened, I looked down at the insert and saw that JMS was out.

Now that I was on my new crusade for understudies, I couldn’t allow myself to be all that upset about it.

Flash forward to the next time I’m in New York a couple of weeks later. I’m walking down 8th Avenue one Wednesday. Brace yourself.

I see JASON MICHAEL SNOW standing outside of a restaurant with a group of his friends. I kid you not. Jason Michael Snow himself. At first I walked on by.

See, at this point, I had been awake for somewhere around 39ish hours. I knew I was a mess with coffee breath who could barely form any kind of coherent thoughts. I figured I should leave him be.

I walked right past him. For maybe 8 steps. I couldn’t. I could not walk right past one of the most talented performers I’ve seen in years without telling him how amazing he is.

Lisa Simpson with a nervous face — Um, hi there. Hey there. Hey. Hello.

I turned right around, and gently tapped him on the shoulder. I said I was so sorry for interrupting his time with friends. He very sweetly said, “No, please. Interrupt.” Then I went on a (probably non-sensical) rant about how crazy talented he is, and how he’s my favorite part of The Book of Mormon, and how I love his writing.

He said, “You are blowing my mind right now.” (He’s so sweet and funny!) I guess he might not recognized a super ton on the street… yet.

One of his friends who was with him was pretty much cracking up the whole time, likely due to the fact that I was almost certainly coming across as a total crazy person.

After I was done stringing words together, hoping to make some kind of thought that at least sort of made sense, I went back about my day. I almost asked for a picture, but – A) I didn’t want to bother him anymore than I already was. B) I’m a little vain and knew I looked tired and awful.

Let me interject here to say I’m learning slowly but surely that vanity is an enemy to things that are good. First, I didn’t want to use water to cool myself down at my hottest half marathon because I didn’t want to look wet in the pictures. (That mistake was remedied in Indianapolis when I ran through every available water source.) Now, here I am telling the story of the day I met Jason Michael Snow, and I don’t even have a picture to remember it!

Vanity is lame.

(I know I’m obviously not that vain, being that I barely ever wear make-up or do my hair. In fact, I’m gonna say it’s more insecurity than vanity. (We all feel that way sometimes, right?) The point is, vanity, insecurity, whatever it is – awful. It’s possible I need to work on it.)

So, I go about my business, freaking out, calling pretty much everyone I’ve ever met in my life. “You’ll never guess who I just met!”

After seeing Jason Michael Snow himself on the streets of New York, I just had to go see The Book of Mormon again. How could I not? I had wanted to avoid seeing it again since I’d already seen it twice, and the last time I’d seen it, Jared was in the lead role. I wanted my lasting memory to be of him playing the part.

But, I really, really, really wanted to see Jason Michael Snow again.

I texted Jared and said I was thinking about coming back. He texted back that he was going to be in the show that weekend. What?! Sign me up!

I’ll tell you all about going to that show in Part 5.

The Trip to Portland (The Traveling Part)

May 24, 2012

I forgot to mention my crazy traveling adventure of my trip out to Portland. (It’s not that crazy, so don’t get too excited.)

LAX was busting at the seams when I got there! I had never seen a line for security screening be so long. (That is not an exaggeration.)

I just kept walking, and walking, and walking until I finally made it to the back – all the way in another terminal. (That part is an exaggeration.)

I’m not totally sure what was happening that made the airport so crowded. There was a large school group flying somewhere. But was the group really that large?

Slowly but surely, the line moves. I’m getting closer to where I can maybe, possibly see the entrance to LAX again. (The line wound around outside.)

All of a sudden, I see someone in the middle of her crazy long trek to the back of the line. She looks so much like my friend Amber (who’s been mentioned on the blog before at the Hollywood Half).

Of course, how could it be Amber? That’d be pretty nuts, right? If at 6 something in the morning I happen across Amber at LAX? I’m sure you’ve all jumped ahead of me, that yes. It was Amber. Insane, right?

She had these big sunglasses on, and I couldn’t see her very well. I yelled out her name on the off chance it actually was here. Sure enough, she turned around.

We talked all the way ’til we got to security. She was selected for additional screening. I wanted to hug her goodbye, but the TSA people freaked out when we got close to each other. (I understand they’re just doing their jobs.) Amber and I gave each other sad looks, and I made my way to my gate where I walked straight onto the plan. My flight was finishing up boarding (otherwise I would’ve just waited for Amber).

Homer Simpson crying, looking at his list of inventions vs. Edison's in the Wizard of Evergreen Terrace episode of The Simpsons, in which Homer Simpson becomes an inventor. — The only other window I’ve had into the life of an inventor.

Later, on the flight from my layover, I ended up sitting next to this man, Michael, who invented the guide that pops up on televisions. Crazy, right? He’s (of course) a super duper millionaire. (Yes, he was still talking Southwest, ’cause it’s the bomb.)

Michael has loads of patents, and talked about how everything he makes off of his patents now goes directly to charity.

He was riveting. It was funny because he came from a family with roots in television. His dad knew Mary Tyler Moore! Yet, he lit up the most when he talked about his kids and grandkids. (Parents, right? They’re always like that. So funny.)

Anyway, he’s traveled the world. He loves hiking. He used to have his own company that had all these incredible perks for his employees. He had so many great stories. Being around him was inspiring. He’s the kind of person that really makes you want to seize the day. There was a special energy or something that just emanated off of him.

He’s done so much! It is possible, people. I was looking right at someone who had a bunch of things that I wanted. (Mainly, I want a company that takes care of all the employees so nicely. That’s a big ol’ dream of mine. Don’t worry, at some point you’ll see it come to fruition.)

Anyway, it’s out there. People making their own dreams (and the dreams of others) happen everyday.

Probably none of you are quite as inspired by my talk with Michael as I was, ’cause you kind of had to be there. But, I hope you get your own Michael on your next flight.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 7 (I Hate Medicine/First Return to School)

May 23, 2012

pile of small, white, circular pills with a line in them. (They look like beta blockers.) — (Photo from health.wikinut.com. I don’t even know if these are beta blockers or not. But you get the gist. I don’t like any pills.)

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

I left off last week being prescribed beta blockers.

Let me take this opportunity to give my rant on medicine.

I hate medicine.

I really, really, really hate it. A lot. If I ever have a cold, or a muscle ache, or anything of the like, invariably someone around me asks if I’ve taken medicine. Why would I? I’d rather just power through.

Sometimes “medicine” is used as a very broad term. I don’t dislike modern medicine. I like the idea that doctors can fix things that happen to me. I don’t like pills, or syrup, or really any kind of thing I have to take. (I dislike pills the most, though.)

I always thought I was very polite, and possibly even somewhat quiet about this fact. But every time I met a doctor on my case in the hospital (or even now, if I go to a doctor for any reason), the first thing a doctor does, as she looks up from my chart, is say, “So, you really don’t like medicine, huh?”

It probably says I’m a troublemaker in my chart, doesn’t it?

Anyway, the doctors at Tufts gave me a prescription for beta blockers. I reluctantly, begrudgingly got it filled, and started taking pills daily (maybe multiple times a day?). Doctors kept stressing that this was my heart, and my life, and everything. They made it sound super serious. Fine. I’ll take your medicine so that I can live. Or whatever.

I returned to school that Thursday. It was so weird going back. The last time everyone had seen me, I’d been walking out with paramedics.

I didn’t know what to say when I came back. I tried to apologize for the big interruption (and possibly startling people), but it’s hard to make that sound sincere (even though it was). I tried to make light of it, but I’m sure my jokes were awkward. I don’t remember what I said, or I’d tell you my awkward jokes. (It wasn’t like I was doing stand up or anything.)

paramedics cartoon, loading someone into an ambulance — Photo from classbrain.com

I also was kind of full of questions (which I’m sure was annoying). I like to be present. I usually like to be pretty in control. And here was this crazy occurrence in my class that I kind of missed, you know, by being unconscious.

I wanted to know what happened, who called 911, and all that jazz. The boys – I’m pretty sure I was the only girl in my class – gave me the story, even though I felt weird being curious about it.

But how can you not be? Everyone else was talking about it. I wanted to feel as though I was a part of the trending topic at school – which was especially weird, because I was part of it! After all, the story revolved around me, which is not what I wanted…

I mean, I did want everyone talking about me. Let’s get real. Otherwise I wouldn’t have taken on fun dares such as this one. But that’s the kind of stuff I wanted them talking about, not weird heart stuff.

It was so weird too, because everyone was asking me how I was doing. On the one hand, that was very sweet. On the other, it was so awkward. Having a heart problem is totally awkward.

And then it was weird because I didn’t have a definitive end. It wasn’t like “well, they fixed me right up!” It was more like, “Well, I have this really rare thing that they couldn’t fix on the first try. Now we’re trying medicine. And we’ll see.”

Of course, many people just got “I’m fine.” The longer explanatory version was mainly for close friends or super curious people.

We’ll pick up here next week.

(#17) Rock ‘n’ Roll Portland – Part 3 (Rain, Supporters, & Clanging Medals)

May 22, 2012

Picking up from yesterday, I ruined my pants (therefore ruining my life) (hyperbole – but only slightly!).

(Although Jeanette commented with a link that just might be the same pants!)

As sad as I was, it was easier to move without all that extra fabric swishing around my feet. I moved at a snail’s pace for a few miles leading up to mile 13. Then I started moving as though I was in a half marathon again.

The kinesiology tape on my knee had come off by the time I’d woken up that morning. I applied the next round myself, messing it up beyond repair twice before I got it right. I think I know what’s up now, though. (Verdict: It was pretty comfy)

There were some fun spectators (braving the rain!) at this race. There was a funny sign that said ,“You look great. (You, not you.)”

Speaking of rain, remember that waterproof phone case I bought with trepidation at Ragnar? It turned out to be a wonderful decision. It rained in Louisville, I ran through every sprinkler in Indianapolis. It rained for miles here. The case was totally worth it, and it’s totally awesome. (Lifeproof is the brand in case you want one too.)

Rewind back to spectators, there was this adorable little boy with a sign, cheering for his two mommies. In some cities, that might’ve been looked down on by some, or that boy might’ve felt embarrassed. He seemed proud (as he should be of his rocking moms!). Way to go, Portland. And way to go, his parents and friends for encouraging him to be proud of his family.

Speaking of boys supporting their families, there were these two men who held up signs for their mom at 12 different points along the course! Talk about dedication! They were the talk of the race.

There were fun water stop volunteers from American Airlines (I’m guessing, since they were wearing big American Airlines hat contraptions on their heads). (I’m still a Southwest girl for life (or until other airlines start allowing changes without fees)! But they looked fun, nonetheless.)

I noticed “no parking (during the hours of the race)” signs in a neighborhood, which made me think about the people who lived there. I’ve run through neighborhoods before, but never thought about those people being sort of trapped in their houses during the race.

They’re obviously not completely trapped. They have the ability to walk out of their neighborhood, get on the MAX, and go wherever they want. But this was the first time I ever really thought about them, and wondered if they’re annoyed, if they’re warned, and all that jazz.

Back to mile 13, I jogged on through to the finish. Maryalicia – the lovely, positive pacer I’d lost – was on the sidelines of the last .1, cheering for me. She’d warned me that if I went out too quickly, I’d probably fade. She was right. (I knew she would be.) Someday I might have enough control to stay with her for negative splits. Today wasn’t that day. (Don’t read that as a surprise or disappointment, ’cause I did not work to make today that day.)

My official time: 3:24:49.

Lawrence, my blog follower that I’d met the day before was waiting at the finish! Luckily, he mentioned getting his Rock Star medal. I would’ve completely forgotten to pick mine up!

We found the heavy medal booth, and Garret gave me my big, huge, heavy Rock Star medal. (It’s way cooler than getting it in the mail.) And, they had Gatorades for us! What, what? That’s something that doesn’t come with your heavy metal in the mail!

I clanged clanged clanged over to gear check. I’d heard people clang medals before – coast to coast and a Disney medal, or Beach Cities and the OC half medal. This was my clanging day!

At gear check, I happened to meet the race director standing by the UPS truck. She told me that she thought she recognized my story. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we put you in the event guide.”

I usually don’t grab the event guide at the expo, being that all the information I ever need is online. But, I happened to grab one this time. The guides were right in front of me as I came in the expo. I’d heard people talk about them before. Why not grab one?

When I got back to the hotel, I checked the guide. Sure enough, there was a little 2 or 3 line blurb about me. It hasn’t increased my blog traffic, so either no one cared, or no one read it. Either way, the Rock ‘n’ Roll series thought of me.

See you tomorrow night. Since that’s Wednesday, it’ll be time for yet another installment of “That Time My Heart Broke. Literally.”

(#17) Rock ‘n’ Roll Portland – Part 2 (Devastated After Ruining My Favorite Pants)

May 21, 2012

fun hats at a water stop — Fun hats at a water stop. This may be replaced by a picture of me running. We’ll see once the photos come out.

Continuing from yesterday –

In mile 9, I started slowing way down. The start time of this race was 8am. I thought that would make it torturous, getting warmer as we ran, but it rained! It rained. Then it rained some more. All was well with the world.

As much as I loved the cool rain… (sigh) Oh boy, this is the super sad part. I have these amazing pants. They’re the first pair of running pants I ever bought back in 2008! Think of how well they’ve held up. I have no idea what kind of amazing super strength material they are made of (it doesn’t say on the pants!), but I love them. Calvin Klein did an awesome, fabulous job making the perfect pants.

As you may have seen in some of the pictures, my pants are way too long for me. They go way over my shoes, and I have had FOUR YEARS to cut them. Yet, did I? No. Why didn’t I? I don’t know! I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I suppose I’m just an idiot.

During the race, they were getting completely soaked. As it kept raining, the bottoms got wetter and wetter. It was getting quite cold and uncomfortable to slosh around in all that extra fabric by my shoes. I kept sludging (not a real word, but I like it) forward until I reached mile marker 12. At that point I only had ONE mile left (.1). Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone?

I saw a medical tent and said, “hey, I don’t have any medical problem or emergency. But, do you have scissors I can use? My pants are driving me crazy.”

The very sweet medical personnel got out scissors and offered to cut my pants for me. I should’ve asked to do it myself, but the woman seemed to want to do it. (They don’t want to give the sharp things to runners, I guess, maybe. Or they just want to be helpful. I don’t know.)

I was very nervous, but also cold and tired. I sat down, and she cut off tons of extra fabric from my right pant leg. Then she proceeded to my left pant leg. I saw that she was cutting it a little higher than I would, but I don’t know if I was trying to be polite or what. By the time I said, “Oh, please not so high,” the damage had been done.

my precious pants — This will most likely be replaced with a picture from the run in mile 13 with the uneven legs, once the photos come out.

My right pant leg is now cut way too high. I ruined my favorite pair of pants in the world! I do not blame this woman at all. I 100% blame myself. Why didn’t I cut them earlier? Why didn’t I ask to be the one to use the scissors? Why didn’t I save the fabric before they threw it away to see if I could sew it back on later? Why wasn’t I patient enough to wait until after the race?

Why did I even wear these pants?! That morning, while still in my I love NY pajama pants, I thought to myself, “This is so comfortable. Maybe I should just wear these.” I really, really thought about it.

Then I thought, “No. I’d rather wear the best pants in the universe.” And now they’re ruined! Conceivably I can still wear them, especially on the treadmill where it doesn’t matter. But outdoors, my legs will be exposed to the sun. I won’t look as cute anymore. I am super crazy bummed about these pants.

In fact, when I got back to the hotel I may or may not have shed a couple of tears about these pants. If you think it’s a little over the top to cry about pants, you have never worn this style in the Calvin Klein Performance line.

Of course, now I can’t find them anywhere because they are these 4-year-old pants that aren’t sold anywhere. I’m worried I’ll never have a good pair of racing pants ever again.

Obviously, I’m too distraught to talk about anything else now, so I’ll finish out the story of the race tomorrow.

(#17) Rock ‘n’ Roll Portland – Part 1 (Inclines, Baby & Trying a Pacer)

May 20, 2012

Runners going uphill at Rock n Roll Portland half marathon 2012 — This photo doesn’t do it justice. This was one of the small hills – around mile 10!

Everything is a hill! So, much. incline.

At the beginning of the race, I decided to stick with the 3 hour pacer and see how long I could keep up with her. (I knew it wouldn’t be the whole way, but figured I could hold on for a while.)

While waiting in our corral (for 30 minutes) before crossing the start, a few of us were asking about the strategy Maryalicia would take. She said that since the first half of the race was uphill (first half only – ha! So we thought…), she’d take it easy. Her plan was to run negative splits.

I am not a negative splits kind of girl. I know that sometimes they make logical sense, and more power to those people who can do them. I’m sure I probably could train myself to do them if need be. Right now, I find them incredibly stressful.

We did the first mile in a little over 14 minutes. (That’s right – over 14 minutes!) I’ve had plenty of 14 minute (and slower) miles in my life, but I like to do my first one around 12 minutes (when I’m trying to push myself in a race). Already I felt behind, which was stressful. I was chasing minutes from the beginning.

I will say the pacer was right when she said that if you do the first mile slowly, you’ll be less tired as you go. I usually start to slow down after the first 5k, but I felt pretty consistent and less tired through probably mile 6. Of course, it’s easier to feel less tired since we’re going slower than normal. That whole speeding up thing is when I don’t do well.

I ended up running sort of ahead of the pace group in miles 2 – 5, because I was stressing myself out about the 14-minute mile. Maryalicia blew past me uphill in mile 6. (I knew it would happen. She was strategizing better than I was, and she was better trained.) All of her runners had fallen off! Not one runner was with the 3:00 pace group anymore. I ended up seeing people from the group later in the race, which was fun.

As I was going up one of the many hills, there were a couple of cars sneaking around one of those roundabout things. I didn’t think too much of it, figuring they were some kind of special exception vehicles – race vehicles of some kind, or someone going to an emergency. After all, we were on a closed course. It couldn’t be normal traffic going through, could it?

waterfront in Portland at the Rock n Roll Portland half marathon 2012 — Good morning, Portland.

Yes it could! I didn’t find out until I was running downhill (finally!) in mile 7 or 8ish when a cop stopped me! I had a nice pace going; I was still chasing minutes from earlier in the race. Out of nowhere in the middle of what was looking to be a 12-minute mile, a cop put his hand up right as I got into the intersection. I had to stop dead in my tracks, super confused.

He started letting cars through the intersection! What is happening here? I crept up right to the edge of the intersection. Both police officers were all, “Ma’am, we need you to stay back.”

I contemplated running anyway. The cars were moving quite slowly. I’d seen runners completely disobey stops before on courses that were supposedly closed. I didn’t know the rules of this situation – if I could get in trouble, or get ejected from the race. I also didn’t want to get run over by a car just to save a minute from my time.

A lot of people complained about the stops after the race. Some people were stopped 6 times! People in the 2-hour range got stopped, so it wasn’t only happening to us slower people.

Around the next mile marker, I thought, “Forget this” (as far as caring about my time). I definitely wasn’t trying to PR on this super hilly course, but I was trying to push myself for at least a good-ish time in comparison to my other ones. When the cop stopped me, I was already 2 – 3 minutes behind where I wished I was. Once he stopped me, I knew I wasn’t going to be finishing in a better range than usual.

The traffic stops became a game for me for the rest of the race. I may not have been chasing a time anymore, but I did not like stopping. Anytime I was coming up to an intersection, if I saw the officers starting to shift towards us to say stop, I’d yell out “no, no, no!” sprinting on through.

How do I finish? I’ll continue tomorrow in part 2.

Rock ‘n’ Roll Portland Expo

May 19, 2012

Elise, Darrin, Chris, and Curtis from the Marriott Downtown Waterfront in Portland at the Rock n Roll Portland Half Marathon 2012 expo — Elise, Darrin, Chris, and Curtis

This expo was awesome mainly because of one booth.

I spent the majority of my time at the booth for the Marriott Downtown Waterfront (which coincidentally is where I’m staying).

Time out to talk about the hotel itself for one second. When I originally put Portland on the schedule, the plan was to stay with a friend out here. Recently, she got a new job and moved. No longer having a place to stay in Portland, I started searching for solutions.

I wrote tons of people on couchsurfing.org with no luck. I asked around on Facebook and nobody knew anyone I could crash with. An incredibly generous blog follower found out that I didn’t have a plan for a place to stay and paid for a hotel room for me – right by the finish line! It could not get any better than this. I’m extremely grateful to him!

Back to the expo, I met these really fun people at the booth. They say my “52 half marathons in 52 weeks shirt,” and started commenting on it. At the time, only Darrin and Elise were there. I found out that Elise recently had ACL surgery (and wanted to sign up for a running event to get motivated), and Darrin has never done a running event! Wouldn’t it be perfect if they signed up for one together?

I happened to come around a shift change, so after a couple of minutes, Curtis and Chris joined us. By the time I left the booth, they had all decided on a 5k that they’d run together on July 15th. Darrin gave me his business cards and told me I could check in and hassle him. I told them this was going on the internet, so they better do it now! I can’t wait to hear about their race!

lip shmear (lib balm) from Einstein Bros. Bagels at the Rock n Roll Portland 2012 Half marathon expo I swung around other booths. There was this electronic massage contraption that I’d never seen before. I tried it out, but to me it didn’t feel good. It felt as though I was being mildly electrocuted every few seconds, but a girl next to me loved it.

Einstein Bros. Bagels had a booth where they gave out coupons for free bagels, and I spun their wheel and got yet another free bagel coupon. They also put “lip shmear” in the goodie bag! I am the driest person of all time, yet I never have lip balm. Basically, what I’m saying is Einstein Bros. Bagels rocks.

Since my knee had been bothering me a little, I decided to try that athletic tape stuff that I always see people getting at expos. It felt good at the expo, so we’ll see how it works out at the race.

After the expo, I met up with a lovely blog reader for lunch. (Shout out to Lawrence!) He had an infectious energy; it was great fun to meet him.

Race report coming soon!

The Book of Mormon (The Musical, of Course) – Part 3 (The “Be Nice to the Understudies/Jason Michael Snow Rocks My Socks” Chapter)

May 17, 2012

Originally, I squeezed all my thoughts about The Book of Mormon into two posts. I had more I wanted to say, but thought, “This blog is mainly focused on running. I shouldn’t talk about one musical for any more than two posts. I mean, really.”

Then I realized this blog is very focused on running this year, but it’s about me, my life, and random adventures I have. My life is chock full of musical theater. It’s one of the biggest (the biggest, maybe?) parts of who I am. Therefore, welcome to “The Book of Mormon (The Musical, of Course) part 3.”

(In case you’re wondering, of course I saw the show again in my two weeks in New York, and that is totally going to be a large part of this story.)

The first time I saw The Book of Mormon with Jared in it, I was really surprised by exactly how upset so many people were that they didn’t get to see Josh Gad. A group of people left the standing room line when they found out an standby was in. Where are you going? Since when are we in the Porgy and Bess line and you’re finding out Audra isn’t here?

I’m mean that all in fun – absolutely no disrespect to Josh Gad. Did you see him in that Modern Family episode? Hilarious. I’m excited to watch his upcoming TV show, 1600 Penn. He’s a lead in the most popular musical on Broadway! You go, boy! But people come to this show because of the brilliant writing. It’s not a star driven show – at least, so I thought.

All I heard that day was grumbling – the people who left the standing room line, the people sitting behind me, the people in the lobby.

Josh Gad and Nikki M James performing in Baptize Me in The Book of Mormon the musical on Broadway — Josh Gad and Nikki M James

At least give the standby a chance, y’all!

I didn’t realize quite how rough being a standby must be. Almost everyone I overheard in the theater sounded a little against Jared that night.

I think he won them over. But, I’m sure it’s hard having to win over an audience that’s supposed to be there on your side.

Being around all that meh energy is a good reminder to keep my heart open – not just to theater and understudies, but to other unexpected things in life. (Easy to say. Hard to do. I would’ve thrown an absolute fit if I’d ever gone to see Spelling Bee and Jesse Tyler Ferguson’s understudy had been in.)

I have seen some amazing standby performers, though. You know, Sutton Foster started as an understudy.

I need to take a page out of Jared’s book, and not let others define how I feel. I’ve never once heard him complain about any negative energy coming his way. Maybe he doesn’t feel it. Maybe it propels him forward. Who knows? What I do know is that he adores his job, and always finds the positive in life.

Now that I’ve lamented all about poor, sometimes under appreciated performers, let me negate everything I just said as I talk about being bummed that Jason Michael Snow was out the second time I saw the show (first time I saw Jared)!

Jason Michael Snow is one of my very favorite actors. He is brilliant. When I first saw The Book of Mormon, I was mesmerized by him in the first number. He says “hello.” That’s his big line. He says one simple word in that first song, and I was watching him for the rest of the night. (Yep. He had me at “hello.” 16-year-old joke! Bam!) And I was not alone.

I went with a great friend of mine. We saw the last dress rehearsal (before previews even started).

Yet, at intermission, our first comment wasn’t about the hilarious script (that hadn’t been reviewed, or had jokes leaked or tweeted, or anything yet). It wasn’t about the brilliant leads, or catchy songs (that no one had gotten to hear yet).

The very first thing my friend asked me was if I also loved that guy in the ensemble! YES! That was the first thing I was about to ask him.

Jason Michael Snow never pulls focus, but he makes every line he gets matter. He has incredible facial expressions, and great fully formed characters. He has a quality. He has that “it” thing. I hope I get to see him in a billion shows.

The first thing I did when I got home from The Book of Mormon’s final dress rehearsal was google Jason Michael Snow. Turns out, not only is he an insanely incredible actor, he’s an amazing musical theater writer as well!

This is where I’ll pick up in Part 4.

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 6 (The First Time They Went Into My Heart)

May 16, 2012

A doctor performing a cardiac ablation on a heart patient — It pretty much looked like this. (Photo from jaxhealth.com.)

It’s Wednesday night, so this series continues.

Last week, in the comments section, Kristen asked me if I could feel the tubes as they go up my body.

(Thanks for commenting. I love when y’all talk to me!)

I could definitely feel the catheters go in. The doctors said they numbed the area, but I could totally feel the pokes down there into my skin. I couldn’t feel the tubes as they traveled up, though.

I couldn’t feel anything in my chest, as far as being poked in there, but sometimes when they shocked me (or whatever that is that they do), I could kind of feel a fluttery, shock-y feeling in my chest.

I don’t think I’ve really said what’s potentially dangerous about WPW.

When someone has WPW, her heartbeat can go ba-dum, ba-dee, ba-doo, following the different pathways. (I think sometimes the electrical signal can go backwards?) A heartbeat can then start to loop on itself, making a heart beat so quickly that the person who possesses said heart passes out (or possibly dies).

So, they do this EP study/ablation. One thing I remember about the first one, is that I was the least awake of all three of them. I think they gave me a little extra of whatever that medicine stuff is they put in my IV.

a cartoon heart showing a catheter ablating an extra pathway from Wolff-Parkinson-White — Get it! (Or not.) (Photo credit: Medtronic, Inc.)

While the doctors were in there doing the test, they also tried to ablate (burn off) the extra pathway, but they couldn’t get it.

I don’t remember the exact numbers they use in the test, and what’s good and bad. I just remember my understanding from the doctor was that I was basically right on the line between probably being okay, and possibly being in a dangerous situation. That’s not a cool line to straddle.

My dad and I hung out in my hospital room until I was discharged. The hospital offered to let me stay for super rad dinner, but it was time to get to work.

(Usually we had Wednesdays off, but in our last week of performances, we had a Wednesday show.) The show was back from the weekend, and so was I.

My dad and I jumped in a cab straight from the hospital, and hightailed it to the theater.

I know I said I thought it was pretty ridiculous for my dad to come all the way to Boston from Ohio just to be there for a little procedure. (And I stand by that.) But, it was really nice that he got to come to the show. He doesn’t always get to see everything I work on (being that he lives far away and all).

Aurora and Ben taking a two-person selfie at rehearsal — with my friend Ben during one of our breaks in a rehearsal

I jumped back into work as though nothing had happened. Ben, my Assistant Stage Manager, was an angel. He always works harder than almost everyone I know, but he was especially wonderful welcoming me back (and triple checking everything for me).

He really made sure I knew we were a team. I was not alone at all, and I appreciate that greatly.

(He even came to visit me multiple times at the hospital (and a few times at home) during all the subsequent ridiculousness over the next few months.)

Back to the actual heart stuff (kind of the main point of this story), the doctor prescribed some beta blockers (and I think some other pills as well, but I can’t quite remember).

My understanding of beta blockers is that they can keep your heart from beating too quickly, while lowering your resting heart rate and blood pressure.

The problem is my blood pressure and heart rate are quite low. My resting heart rate is in the 40s. When I get my blood pressure read, I’m fairly often asked if I’m feeling okay. (I’ve been kept from giving blood before, because my blood pressure wasn’t high enough.)

So, here I am with these already crazy low numbers (mainly due to good genes, I’m sure), and I’m going on beta blockers.

I wonder if that might cause some sort of problem… Find out next week.

(#16) Santa Barbara Wine Country Half Marathon – Part 2 (Animals and Spectators)

May 13, 2012

Picking up from yesterday –

While we’re talking about music on my iPod keeping me awake, alert, and moving – I’d like to say (as if it’s not a known fact) that music from the ’90s is incredible. Seriously. Incredible. If the last time you listened to Nsync was anytime before this morning, it’s time to pop them in your CD player.

Barenaked Ladies, Celine Dion, Eminem, Christina Aguilera, Mariah Carey, LFO – hit me with that ’90s music, ’cause it is awesome! Awesome.

Heck, hit me with that ’80s music – Paula Abdul, Whitney Houston, New Kids on the Block, Wham!, Prince, Madonna, Janet Jackson, John Mellencamp, Stevie Wonder.

Obviously, the musician whom I love the most spans the ’80s and ’90s (and other decades) – Michael Jackson. Sometimes when I really listen to his songs, they make me physically ill because they are so good. Bruce Swedien (his engineer), Quincy Jones (producer) and obviously Michael himself were such geniuses, that you put all three of them together and you get something so good that it’s gross.

But enough about music. That’s not what we came here to talk about. (Although seriously, almost everything that came out in probably about 2005 and before rocked my socks. You have got to go put on some old records!)

Because I had used my map app to get to Santa Ynez, and I knew I’d need it to get home, I conserved my battery by foregoing use of my running app. I figured I’d sort of keep an eye on the time, watch out for the SAG wagon, and just keep moving forward.

I started with a slow pace, and I continued with one throughout the race. Every time I thought I could maybe see the SAG wagon in the distance behind me, I started hightailing it. Whenever I thought there were fewer people behind me than I wanted, I’d jog for a while. But mostly, I just walked.

There was one pretty large hill, and a few smaller ones to compliment it. The weather was nice. It was cool and misty.

There were lots of animals around – horses and such. At one point, I heard, “Watch out for the snake!” My head whipped around. “What?” “Oh, there’s a snake back here. You stepped right past it.” For the rest of that mile, my eyes kept scanning the ground for snakes. I never saw any.

As I came to the relay point (5 something miles in), I thought about how awesome it would be to have someone taking over for me. Nope. I’ve got over 7 miles left.

There were extremely few spectators, but there was one man with a cowbell at one of our turns. He was possibly the most excited man I’ve ever seen enthusiasm course. His enthusiasm was welcomed.

As I went on, two people right behind me had friends getting lunch at an outdoor café. As the runners passed by, the friends gave them bacon! I was jealous. Although, at the first stop, we all had gotten Nutter Butters. Considering I had rejected breakfast in favor of as much sleep as possible, I was very excited about a Nutter Butter.

Closer to the end (mile 11 or so?), I saw a kid with a free lemonade stand. Barely anyone was taking lemonade, and the tip jar looked pretty empty. (Not many people carry money during a race, and many don’t have time for lemonade.) He looked pretty dejected, which made me sad.

I thanked him for being there, but he seemed to be pretty much over it.

Around Mile Marker 12, I met a 60-year-old man who talked to me all the way into the finish. He had truly lovely stories about his mother. (It was Mother’s Day weekend, and she had recently passed away (at 97 years old).) It sounded like he needed this half marathon, so I’m glad he had it. I was happy to have a companion for the last mile.

I finished very slowly, just as I knew I would – 3:43:16

When we came into the finish, they were out of medals. The volunteers were so apologetic though. I didn’t care that much, since it should be coming in the mail. (They offered to let people wait. They said they were coming with medals in about 30 minutes.)

I couldn’t stay awake for 30 more minutes. I walked around the corner, plopped down in the car, and slept for about 4 hours. That night, I somehow made it all the way back to LAX, returning Alamo the car in one piece.

(#16) Santa Barbara Wine Country Half Marathon – Part 1 (Sleepy Girl)

May 12, 2012

For me, sleep is quite possibly the most important ingredient in having a fun, successful race. Sleep is quite important in day to day life, really.

Sometimes it’s fun to be running around on very little sleep – maybe as a writer, or other fun contributing job during tech week of a musical. “I feel great! I’m being creative. I’m busy. Watch me go!”

In other non-tech week times, I think, “Why am I an idiot? I could be sleeping on any schedule I want, yet I’m depriving myself for some reason.”

This was the idiot kind of sleep deprived.

Around midnight, I made my way to LAX and rented a car. I would’ve never thought about renting a car before my adventure to Lake Havasu, but now I view it as an available travel option. I rented from Alamo this time, taking advantage of my sweet Mensa discount.

I am still flabbergasted by the process of renting a car. I handed the agent my license and a credit card, and he said, “Go pick out whatever car you want from rows 3 or 4.” How do you just let me take a car? For all you know, I could be a girl who jumped on a bus to New York the day after her high school graduation party, only driving a handful of times in the last few years. But okay, I’ll just head out to rows 3 and 4.

There were friendly Alamo guys outside who asked what I was looking for, and I said anything small that has good gas mileage. They pointed, saying, “That one.” And I jumped in an Altima.

I didn’t even have to put keys in the ignition! There was a button that made it start. Then the people at Alamo just let me leave. With a car. I mean, this whole idea of renting cars is really crazy, isn’t it?

Somehow I actually made it all the way to Santa Ynez, California. Amazing, right?

I ended up getting a spot right by the finish line. It was a point to point course, so I’d need to get on a shuttle to the start, but I wouldn’t have to do that for another hour or so. I reclined my seat and had a much needed nap. But I wanted so much more than those 45 minutes! I would’ve loved to just sleep for hours, but I had a race to do.

I jumped on the shuttle bus (dozing a little on the way to the start), and got my bib and timing chip once I was at the start.

One good thing about 52 half marathons in 52 weeks is that it forces me to go out there and do my 13 miles. If I could’ve, I would’ve loved to have slept in. I like to think that without this challenge, I would’ve still gone for a run/walk, just later in the day. But this challenge really gave me no choice.

This course had a pretty small field of runners, with only 3,000 were running. Many people probably thought of this course as peaceful and scenic, but I was just kind of bored.

I’m sure a large part of my boredom was from being so tired. Sometimes relaxing, calm, quiet, and scenic is good. I’m sure there are many times I would appreciate it. But today, I wanted another Indiana – a course that never left me without entertainment and tons of walkers around me.

I was basically a walking zombie, clinging to my iPhone for dear life. Yeah, Jordan Knight, sing it to me! Keep me awake!

Do I actually stay awake for the remainder of this half marathon? Find out tomorrow.

Aurora and Her Gas Tank Returning from the Grand Canyon – Part 2 (Hopping Fences, Getting Gas, and Getting Home)

May 11, 2012

View of the Chevron when Aurora De Lucia ran out of gas on the side of the highway in the middle of the desert — This the spot where I ran out of gas. So close, yet so far.

Picking up from part 1, I hop the fence. Next item on the agenda – get a gas can. They didn’t have one in the gas station. (Surprising, right?) But, a man in the shop across from the gas station let me borrow one.

I took the gas can over to the pumps, and was having a hard time filling it. Apparently you have to make a seal. It was nerve-wracking! I didn’t want to overfill the small can.

These two extremely nice women came over to help me. They were an awesome reminder of one of the many reasons not to judge people based on assumptions or first appearances. The women who helped me were in high heels and nice clothes. They had manicured nails and styled hair.

They didn’t necessarily look on the surface like the type of people who’d be comfortable with gas cans, but they rushed right to my rescue. They helped me hold the gas can, and came over to the fence with me, handing me the can after I climbed back over the fence. Thanks, ladies!

Once I got back to the car, I realized that gas cans are supposed to have some kind of nozzle, right? didn’t want to walk to the fence and hop it (and back) again in the sweltering heat. So, I poured from the best angle I could, spilling as little gas as possible, hoping not to catch anything on fire.

Somehow, enough gas got in my tank. I drove up around the long fence, into the gas station, and got my gas!

It was incredible how crowded this place was. There was a line for everything – to buy gas, to buy snacks, to use the bathroom – line, line, line. Someone in the bathroom line remarked to me that they hadn’t seen anywhere to stop in hours. Me neither!

Somebody build some gas stations on the Grand Canyon/San Diego trek already!

I grabbed a Gatorade and some precious, precious Doritos. I took a few minutes out of my car stretching, and hopped back in for another good ol’ stretch of nothing.

You’d think driving home couldn’t be more stressful after that, but you’re not winding around a mountain yet! 2 lanes (one each way). So many turns. On a mountain! I’m never going to make it back to LA alive, am I?

driving in moutains — Where am I? (There were much scarier places driving along a mountain, but there wasn’t space to get pictures in those places.)

Somehow, I made it through the mountain and made my way to San Diego. Thank goodness I had totally been eavesdropping at the Enterprise when they talked to other customers. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known about the secret hotel valet drop-off after hours, and I would’ve been stuck for the night.

I made my way around one way streets for way too long until I finally figured out how to get to the valet. I sadly emptied my super convenient car, and walked to the Greyhound station to get back to Los Angeles. This was the first Greyhound station I’d seen where everyone was wanded before entry (entry to the outside area, since the station was completely outside).

The ride home was miserable. Mis-er-a-ble. First, I sat next to a broken window where cold air was blowing at my like crazy. I asked the bus driver if he could turn on the heat, but he didn’t speak English.

A woman close to the bus driver translated for us. She told me that the heat was already on. I moved seats closer to a big vent that would hopefully be blowing out heat. Nope. Turns out the heat was not on, but the air was.

I looked around, and every person on that bus was miserable, wrapped up in sweatshirts, blankets, and whatever else they could find. As we started to just maybe try to drift to sleep on a bus that made that next to impossible, the bus was stopped by border patrol.

The stern officer asked each of us for our license. This was the billionth time I’d seen border patrol on this trip. When he started on his questions, including, “Were you born here?” I wanted to say, “How is my license not good enough? Born here or not, I’m a citizen. Please, I’m begging you, let us go home. I’m so cranky and sleepy.”

The bus was eventually cleared. I commiserated about the cold and being questioned all the time with a new friend in the back of the bus. Early in the morning, I finally arrived in Los Angeles, and proceeded to sleep for two days straight (exaggeration).

“My First Half Marathon” – Daddy

May 10, 2012

It’s time for a guest post! (Ish.) I say ish because I’m about to do a lot of talking (writing) as well.

Since it was my dad’s first half marathon, I asked if he would write a guest post for the blog and he graciously agreed. Take it away, Daddy.

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I’ve always tried to be a good dad. You make a promise to your baby girl(s), you keep the promise.

When my daughter ran her first half marathon in 2009, she asked if I’d run one with her when I turned 50 (August, 2011). “Sure I will, honey”, I promised her. I never thought she’d hold me to it (especially after her open heart surgery in 2010), but she did.

So I told her I’d train and be ready to go for the Indy Half Marathon on May 5th, 2012. The most I’d ever walked at one time was 4 miles. What a mistake!!!

By mile 10.5, my feet stopped talking to me. My back hurt, my calves were tight and I wasn’t sure I would make it. Of course, De Lucia’s don’t give up, so I kept going.

My baby girl was VERY encouraging and kept me focused on finishing. It wasn’t fast, but we didn’t see the SAG wagon all day. 🙂 I was so excited to finish the race, I signed up for the Columbus, OH half marathon in October.

Walking 13.1 miles might not seem like much of an accomplishment, but if you are a middle age person who doesn’t exercise much, it is a daunting task. I’m off the couch for good now, and it is all thanks to my baby girl.

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Aurora’s response:

The way I remember it (which is of course the right way), is that when I crossed the finish line in 2009, he talked about how amazing it had been to watch thousands of people finish – seeing people cry tears of joy, and sport triumphant smiles. Now he was determined to run one.

I encouraged him to sign up for Indiana, since he said he wanted to run it. That’s when he said, “I’ll do it when I’m 50.”

I mean, come on, why would I have suggested waiting around ’til he was 50? I don’t think in terms of “I’ll wait until I’m this age.” I’d rather just do it now. (Plus, I don’t think anyone should ever define any part of their life by their age, ’cause that’s silly.) I told him he should just do it the following year.

He was all, “Oh, I’ll wait ’til I’m 50. It’ll be a fun thing to do for the milestone and give me plenty of time to get ready.” “Okay then, Daddy. If you want to do it in 2012, I won’t stop you. But you really are going to do it?” “I promise I will.”

Every year I reminded him what was coming up. As he told me on the phone today, he just kept thinking, (sarcastically) “Yeah, sure. I’m sure it’s gonna happen.” I don’t know why he thought it wasn’t going to happen. He had made a promise (yes, to me, but most importantly to himself). This was happening.

He was pretty hilarious on the phone today, saying “At the time 50 just seemed so far away. I mean, heck, I’ll be dead by then! 50? Sure, I’ll do it when I’m 50.”

You may be thinking “Gosh, with a daughter who likes distance events so much, why didn’t anybody help him with his training?” (Not to mention, he works with some people who’ve qualified for Boston.)

For the record, we did warn him. We all told him to train more. My dad would say, “Oh, I do the bike all time.” (Indoor cycling is his favorite exercise.) “I’m getting great cardio in.” (Yes, I know it’s not the same thing.)

Granted, I always warned him very gently. “Um, Daddy, maybe, you might want to walk a little more. If you want.” After all, he is my dad, and a grown up. Generally, he knows what’s best.

He did do three 5ks. (One was actually a 4 miler.) He basically said, “I could’ve easily kept my pace on that 4 miler for another 4 miles. Then I’m already up to 8 miles. I’ll just keep going after that, and can slow down if needed.”

He kept downplaying the half marathon. “I’m only walking it.” 13(.1) miles is a long walk!

At lunch after the half marathon, my dad (unprompted) said that he should’ve listened. He took 100% of the blame for his tired legs and feet. Good. I felt better after that.

Daddy has definitely caught the bug. We’ll be doing the Columbus Half in October, and the Walt Disney World Marathon in January. He’s already talking about improving his time. I knew this would happen, and I’m looking forward to future races!

(I’m really proud of my daddy.)

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 5 (They’re Gonna Go Into My Heart)

May 9, 2012

cartoon hearts dressed as athletes, running together — (Photo credit: www.healthyheart.nhs.uk)

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

Last week, we left off at the end of my weekend at Tufts Medical Center.

On Monday, I spent a long time lying in a hole of a big, circular machine (which made a bunch of noise). I think that was a cardiac MRI.

I don’t remember all the tests they did. I do remember that they learned basically every single thing there was to know about my heart.

The left side of my heart is slightly larger than the right. And I have the thing commonly referred to as “athlete’s heart.” (It’s not because I was an athlete. I was a recreational runner before all this trouble, but I definitely didn’t push hard enough to get athlete’s heart by being an athlete. Athlete’s heart just means my heart is bigger than you’d normally expect.)

The size of my heart wasn’t my problem, though.

Stephen (my professor who had to deal with my total freak out over losing studio time) called me on Monday to see how things were going. He called right after doctors had informed me that they’d probably have to go into my heart.

Into my heart? Like, in there? Are you sure? ‘Cause that seems… what, now?

Stephen was really helpful through that (and all the months to follow). I didn’t know any details of what the doctors were planning to do inside my heart, and nothing was certain yet. So, I was cool. But even with being cool, he was reassuring. It was very nice that he checked on me.

toy car on a map (facing away from us) — Daddy, please get back in the car and turn around. I love you so much, but don’t be ridiculous. You know, I am a grown up. (Photo credit: Dreamstime.com)

Speaking of people checking on me, my dad drove up to Boston. I kid you not. I was all, “Daddy. Don’t be crazy. I’m fine. In real life.”

“People are probably going to go into my baby girl’s heart?! I’m coming sweetheart, I’m coming!”

[*Shaking my head*] “Oh, goodness, gracious.”

They did go into my heart on Tuesday. Turns out, I had Wolff-Parkinson-White.

I have heard a fair amount about it, so hopefully I don’t get this next stuff wrong. Wolff-Parkinson-White is a congenital heart defect in which there is an extra electrical pathway on the heart that’s not supposed to be there.

You know how our hearts beat – ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. We have a bundle of muscle fibers on our heart that controls how quickly it beats and takes the electrical impulses along the path they’re supposed to go. (SA node to the AV node, y’all? Maybe?)

Someone with Wolff-Parkinson-White (WPW) has extra pathways (bundles of fibers) that aren’t supposed to be there. Depending on where the bundle(s) is located (and how big they are), WPW can be anywhere from mildly dangerous to very dangerous.

How can they tell if you have the dangerous kind or not? They can tell by doing an EP study (Electrophysiology study). (That’s the thing they needed to do in my heart.)

Okay, so on Monday, they tell me I have WPW and the next day they’re going into my heart. I know the way it was phrased makes it kind of sound like it might be a big deal. But it wasn’t.

They took me to this room. I’m pretty sure it was cold. I got to listen to Michael Jackson in my headphones. That was nice.

So, they take me to this cold room and give me a little something to make me sort of groggy, but I was kind of awake. They then inserted catheters into veins at the top of my legs.

(Yes, WebMD and internet users, right by my groin (ew)). That’s the word all the medical websites use, but I didn’t want you to have to think about that… Oh well!)

Anyway, so they insert these little tubes into my veins, and thread them up into my body until they reach my heart.

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

(#15) OC half Marathon – Part 2 (An Exhausted Finish)

May 8, 2012

Picking up from yesterday, my first 5k went pretty well.

It seemed that, somehow, the photographers knew when I wanted to walk. In the first half of the race, every time I wanted to walk I’d spot a photographer. And I always try to run by them like I know what I’m doing.

You may remember, I was an idiot last week, losing my headphones on the flight to Indiana. When I got home, I ripped open my back-up pair. I have really enjoyed going sans music for my last two races. But, coming off of Indiana, I knew I’d need some music to keep me pushing through this race.

I went along going slower and slower, understanding my dad’s exhaustion level from the previous day.

There were some pleasant surprises along this course.

As I passed through a neighborhood, there was a family all gathered in their front yard, putting out watermelon, donuts, and muffins for runners. Amazing, right?

Later on, I looked down and saw that someone had written “Go, Tracy, go” in chalk. I don’t know how fast Tracy is. She may not have been able to see it if there were too many runners by her. If she did see it, I bet she felt pretty special and happy.

Later, I saw a joke written on the ground. “Why did the elephant cross the road?” “It was the chicken’s day off.” As I quietly chuckled to myself, I saw “ha ha ha” in chalk, which for some reason made me laugh more.

There were tons of kids volunteering today. I think children may have been responsible for the various awesome chalk messages. I wonder if I missed any more secret chalk jokes anywhere on the course. Great job being funny, and creative in placement, kids!

I slowed down as the race went on. Somewhere in probably mile 6ish, I called my dad just to tell him I was still alive and definitely gonna make it through this race (and to make sure he was still alive as well). I told him that I was gonna come in around 3:30, but since I wasn’t the last person to cross the start, I had a buffer zone of a few minutes. “You don’t need a buffer zone. You can do it in 3:30.” Huh, well, okay, Daddy. My dad’s driven inflection made me decide that I was absolutely going to cross that line in under 3:30.

Once I had gone a good number of miles, I saw this area where The American Heart Association had a bunch of interesting facts regarding how modern medicine has grown over last sixty or so years. I’m asking around to see if anyone has pictures of all the facts. I wanted to hang out and read, but I was getting slower and couldn’t afford the time.

This race had a cool theme going on – “Why I run.” Every mile marker gave a new reason why people liked to run.

In mile 10, I had the overwhelming desire to jog a fair part of it. I had been slowing down, and could use the time. Plus, I was just tired of walking. As I got closer to Mile Marker 11, I saw a hill. They didn’t have any super steep hills here, but it existed. I figured I’d want to slow down to walk it, but when I approached my legs just said “keep jogging!” I happily did. I reached Mile Marker 11, banking a minute or two. Jogging up that hill helped.

As I got closer to the end of the race, I came to a station of volunteers handing out pretzel sticks and bananas. Thanks, OC half marathon! (I took a pretzel stick. Two adorable little girls handed it to me.)

As I passed Mile Marker 12, I was right at a 16 minute mile pace. I didn’t want to chance coming in even a second over 3:30, so I jogged the last 1.1 miles. Official finish time: 3:27:46

A volunteer put my medal around my neck. (I love when they make it cool, instead of just handing it to you.) I was given a bag of food. Then I hung out around the finish expo. Massage Envy gave free massages, and brilliantly gave out wristbands with a coupon for one in their store. A runner is way less likely to lose something they can put around their wrist than a postcard. They have no place to put the postcard. Brilliant, brilliant idea there, Massage Envy.

First double half marathon weekend down. And I lived to tell about it.

(#15) OC half Marathon – Part 1 (Back to Back Races In 2 Different Time Zones)

May 7, 2012

I may or may not have chuckled a bit at my dad during certain points of the race the day before this one.

Of course I don’t enjoy seeing my dad in pain, but when he’s being so hilarious, how can I not laugh? Not to mention, he readily admits that it was a mistake not to have trained more. How can you not laugh when the person telling you “I’ve walked four miles in a row. I’ll be fine for 13,” is telling you toward the end of the race “I’m never doing another distance event!”

Well, today was payback day. I was the one who got to have a nice little struggle.

Doing two half marathons back to back actually wasn’t quite as bad as I thought it might be. I’m sure it helped that my dad and I just walked Indy. If I had tried to run both halves, I might be singing a different tune.

One of my biggest pieces of advice to my future self, and any of you who want to do two half marathons back to back in different states, is that if you book a plane ticket thinking, “Oh, it gets in at 7:30, I’ll have plenty of time for sleep,” you are not getting in at 7:30. You may be landing at LAX at 7:30. But you have not yet gotten off the tiny plane, onto a shuttle that took you to a terminal, walked outside, waited for the FlyAway bus, finally gotten on the bus, taken the metro from Union Station, walked from the metro to your apartment, (maybe took a short dip in the jacuzzi in your apartment complex to try to relax your muscles a bit before your race tomorrow), gotten ready for bed/your race the next day.

I suppose that wasn’t so much advice as a fact. One I will remember. It actually takes time to get from a plane to your apartment. Weird, right?

On Thursday night, before the Indy expo, I only slept a few hours because I had been on a weird sleep schedule. I hoped denying myself sleep that night would help me get to sleep early the next night – leading into Indy. However, I got a second wind (or maybe just too excited about my huge, favorite race (with my dad!)). I didn’t get to sleep until about 1 in the morning.

Here I am coming off of two days of not too terribly much sleep, and I finally get in bed around 10:30, needing to wake up around 4. Not awful. But not ideal. (And heck yeah, I took a nap on the first plane leg!)

Not that you really need a play-by-play of my sleep schedule, but there you have it.

Getting up sort of hard. I really wanted to just keep hitting snooze until about noon. But, I had a race, baby!

When I finally dragged myself to the start line, I was ready to take a nap in my corral until we actually crossed the line.

I heard marathoners go off at about 5:45. I didn’t realize they started so early until I got there and heard it happen. The half marathoners started at 6:15. It was surprisingly already getting light outside. I appreciated the early start. I’d rather be tired than sweating in the hot, hot sun.

I was determined to jog the first mile, because, you know, it’s only a mile. My legs weren’t that tired. I should certainly be able to do it. And I was. I did it in about 12:20 – not a fast jog, obviously. Any of you real runners out there are thinking, “Are you kidding me? My grandma jogs a 12:20 mile.” At this point in my training, I am happy with a 12:20 mile, and I’m working at least fairly hard to get it. (I’m pretty sure I could go faster if I knew I didn’t have another 12.1 coming right after it.)

My only goal of the race was to finish. The time limit was 3 1/2 hours, so at every mile marker, I checked my time and thought about where I was in the scheme of 16 minute miles. At the end of mile one, I thought, “Sweet. I banked over 3 minutes.” I mixed jogging with walking, and by the end of my first 5k, my average pace was still under 14 minute miles.

And this is where I’ll pick up tomorrow.

(#14) OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini-Marathon – Part 2 (Daddy Finishes His First Half Marathon!)

May 6, 2012

Picking up from yesterday with all the great fun we had –

In the speedway, there were various cheerleading groups all around the track, bringing their spirit! They yelled out runners names as we went by. I thought it was so cool to hear them shout out so much encouragement to my dad by name.

One group was all decked out with Christmas apparel and props. They had signs with altered lyrics to “Jingle Bells.” (“Oh what fun it is to run the mini-marathon.” (But imagine fun, new lyrics for the entire song.))

We passed mile marker 6, 7, and I think even 8 while in the speedway. Music played over the speakers as we made our way through. “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” came on, and I happily danced around and sang. That song is totally one of my many jams.

A bunch of people got down and kissed the bricks in the Brickyard – a tradition in Indy, from what I understand.

Every time we came to a curb (in or out of the speedway) I’d yell, “hug the curb!” That kind of seems to be my new thing. I don’t know how much time I really save by hugging a curb, but when there’s room to do it without getting in the way of other runners, it makes me feel happy.

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My dad said some hilarious things as we went farther and he got more tired. At various times, he asked, “Is there anyone behind us?” (Maybe you had to be there to see how funny his exhausted delivery was.) I’d look back and say, “Nope, not a single person.” (Don’t sweat it. I was always joking. There were plenty of people behind us.)

Throughout the course, we were entertained by various bands and groups. There were spectators galore. Pretty much the whole city comes out for this race. We passed through neighborhoods where strangers had hoses at the ready to happily spray people. Thanks, strangers! (I even saw someone with a water gun.)

As we came into the final mile, there were a big signs that said “Victory Mile.” What a wonderful way to put it! It’s not a final mile of punishment. This is the victory lap!

There were checkered flags lining the course throughout the last mile. I thought it was so cool. The race people really made that final mile as exciting as they could.

When we were getting up toward the finish line, the announcer was out among the runners, congratulating various people. I pointed to my dad and said “first half marathon!” The announcer said “In another ten steps, you’ll never be able to say it’s your first again.”

That was a very bittersweet moment. How incredibly exciting that my dad was almost done with his first half marathon! But also, how sad that it’s almost over.

Well, I don’t think my dad was sad. I’m pretty sure he was done.

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(Just for accuracy’s sake (vs. what I said in this video) – we had in fact passed mile marker 12, but we were not officially in the final mile yet. We had not yet completed a full .1 after mile 12, just for the record.)

After we crossed the finish, my dad wanted to sit down. I pointed to the medals, but he was not listening. I don’t think much mattered to him at all at that point – not food, not medals, just sitting.

He sat for a moment. Then we collected our medals, got pictures taken, and walked through the food area.

They do food up right here. Cookies, bananas, granola bars, etc. (Marsh the local Indiana grocery store rocking the finish chute!)

The organize it well. You get a bag to carry your various food items. And there are very large signs that say what food and drink is where, so you can easily see and pick what you want.)

I cannot imagine a half marathon better than this one. The OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini-Marathon is my favorite half marathon. If I had to choose only one to do in a year, hands down it would be this one.

(Side note: My dad took me to Champps (a restaurant I love), which is exactly what we did after my first marathon. And at lunch, he was already talking about his next distance race.)

We survived! Tomorrow, I’ll talk about the half marathon I did today. (And then hopefully I can get my dad to write a guest post!)

(#14) OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini-Marathon – Part 1 (A Huge, Incredible, Lovely Race)

May 5, 2012

This is the largest half marathon in the country. It appears on many lists of “best half marathons” and “best half marathons for first timers.” I’m pretty sure this is the standard by which all half marathons should be measured.

I knew this would be an excellent first race for my dad. It doesn’t get much better than this.

My dad thought it would be cute if we wore matching shirts (as did I). He wanted to wear the shirt he got for this race. (Of course, I had the same shirt, making that whole matching thing quite easy.)

These are super comfortable, cool looking shirts. “But, Daddy! Everyone will think we’re such newbs!” “I am a newb!” he answered. (From everything I’ve heard, wearing the shirt of the race you’re in is a big tell-tale sign that you’re newbie (unless it’s from a previous year).)

(One of my dad’s many great characteristics is his incredible ability to never care about what anybody thinks of him, so he was ready for us to go be total dorks in our new shirts.)

All right, I’ll jump on the newbie bandwagon. I’ll look super cool ’cause I’ll be with my dad, so who cares? (We look like we’re super cool kids, right?)

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We get to the race and line up in his corral, which is corral Z. I kid you not. The last corral. We couldn’t even see the start line from where we were. We couldn’t even see corral T from where we were!

Corral Z was a pretty hopping corral. It was basically all new people (plus a few supporters of new runners.) It was exciting to see everyone getting ready for their first race. We had a lot of laughs about being so far back. If you think I talk about making new friends, you should go somewhere with my dad. He makes more new friends than I do!

Beach balls were being hit from corral to corral. I yelled up for them to send one back to Z. Someone did, and it was dropped. Someone said, “Oh, corral Z.” We all laughed.

Once we heard a lot of clapping around 7:30, we figured that probably meant the race was starting. Slowly but surely we got to inch our way forward. Eventually, we got to turn onto the street where the start line actually was!

There were big video screens showing people crossing the start. When we got up there, I head someone say the Mayor of Indianapolis was in one of the cranes above us. Hey there, Greg Ballard, if you’re up there!

Not long into the course at all, we passed the Indianapolis Zoo, and you could see an elephant! Not only was there this big, cool elephant – there was a little baby elephant beside it. Awww.

My dad said it was a good thing I didn’t really have a sense of smell because I guess the zoo smelled like animals, or something.

Indy has huge signs when you’re coming up to a water stop. Brilliantly, they have blue ones when you’re coming up on water, and green when you’re coming up on Gatorade. Also, because it was a million degrees today, they had spray stations set up, or in some places people with hoses who would spray you. I walked through every single thing that was spraying water on that course.

I am already back in California while writing this. I actually have the OC half marathon tomorrow! I’m gonna head to bed and I will pick up here tomorrow.

OneAmerica 500 Festival Mini-Marathon Expo

May 4, 2012

The 500 Festival Mini-Marathon in Indianapolis is known as one of the best half marathons, and I’m not surprised. They started things out on the right foot with this rocking expo!

(Really, today wasn’t the start. they’ve been doing things well for the last few months, sending just the right number of update emails and such.)

Today I got to go with my dad to pick up his very first half marathon bib… ever! I am unbelievably excited for tomorrow.

The expo was decorated wonderfully – decals of feet on the floor leading you in, signage everywhere, tons of friendly volunteers throughout ready to point you in any direction you’d need to go. There was even an exhibit showcasing all the previous years of the Mini-Marathon. It was so cool to take a walk though the history of the race.

We weaved through the humongous expo. I heard about some more races. (A number of races here overlapped with ones I saw set up in Louisville last week. Many things were new, though.)

My dad and I entered various raffles. I happily signed up to be on the national bone marrow donor registry. (I thought it was pretty bomb that they were there. This was the first expo in which I’d seen them.)

They had a sign that said, “Out of the 35,167 runners, only two would be your match.” Isn’t it kind of amazing when you put it that way?

We also stopped by the RunDisney booth. My dad signed up for the 20th Anniversary Disney World Marathon in January. (My sister and I are already registered.)

Signing himself up may have been a bit presumptuous, since he hasn’t done a distance race before… Boy, I sure hope he has fun tomorrow.

We watched a bit of this looping video of the course playing in the middle of the exhibition hall. 13.1 miles seemed to be sort of long way, watching it on video… I don’t think it will seem all that long when we’re actually on the course.

Here’s the scary part. (Dum, dum dum (Those are scary chords to hear in your head.)) There were big signs warning about the weather forecast. (We got warning emails as well.) It’s supposed to be super hot and very humid. We have been warned in large, bold letters multiple times. I’m interested to see what tomorrow brings.

So far, this half marathon has gotten every single thing right. I cannot even wait for the race!

That Time My Heart Broke. Literally. – Part 4 (Tufts Medical Center)

May 2, 2012

interior of Tufts Medical Center (with banner hanging) — Photo credit: John Stephen Dwyer (found on Wikipedia)

It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.

Last week, we left off spending the weekend at Tufts Medical Center.

Let me tell you, Tufts is sort of awesome. Of course, it wasn’t awesome to have my weekend taken away in the hospital. After every show, my friend Ben gave me updates on everything I was missing at the theater.

But if I had to be stuck somewhere, Tufts was the place to be stuck. Tufts Medical Center is like a hotel – a fancy, swanky, unlimited room service hotel. They have the best food. The. Best.

I had never been admitted in a hospital before, so I didn’t know how the food situation worked. On TV shows, there’s pretty gross food, and not a lot of it. (And there’s always so much jello everywhere.)

In real life, there were amazing plates of pasta, so much delicious toast, and so much more. I don’t even remember everything they had, but it was pretty much anything you could want. You just called down when you were hungry and read from your menu. It was awesome.

a smorgasbord of food — The food situation was pretty much like this… (Photo credit: Miss Maud Swedish Smorgasbord Restaurant (found on TripAdvisor))

And the nursing staff! My goodness, these were the nicest people ever. Everyone was unbelievably sweet to me. The doctors were nice as well. If you ever have to hang out in a hospital, this is the joint. All the cool kids kick it here, ’cause it is the bomb dot com.

Now that I’ve talked about all the amazing things, let’s spend a second talking about how stressful this was already becoming – and this was just the first few days in the hospital.

Back in the day, I was incredibly happy to be busy to a pretty insane degree. Most days, I was scheduled within an inch of my life – multiple jobs, tons of classes, side projects, and on and on.

Wouldn’t you know it? I had this humongous project I was working on for one of my classes. People often refer to it as the biggest project you’ll do in the Music Production & Engineering major. It’s called a sound-alike. You take a popular song, and try to recreate it as best you can – getting every single sound (from the kick drum, to the synthesizers, to the vocalist, and everything in between) as close to the sounds on the record as you can get them.

My first session was supposed to be Monday night. And my overdubs session was supposed to be Tuesday. For a while, I assumed I’d get some kind of test on Monday. The doctors would see this was all some sort of big misunderstanding or broken EKG machine or something, and I’d be let out, never to see another hospital again.

After all, how could something as crazy as having a heart problem happen to me?

On Sunday, I learned from a doctor that they were most likely going to have to do multiple (time consuming) tests, and they probably wouldn’t be able to fit them on the same day. It seemed as though best case scenario for when I’d leave was Tuesday, but Wednesday was more likely.

Wait a second. A weekend vacation was one thing. (One thing I already had trouble wrapping my mind around, but somehow found the ability to let go for three days.) But anything more than that was kind of ridiculous. I mean, doesn’t everyone in the world understand that I’m super busy with my little life, and obviously my world must revolve around me? Therefore, no time for this.

recording_studios_studioA — Can somebody just whip one of these together in the hospital? (Photo-credit: Berklee-blogs.com)

I grudgingly emailed Stephen (the professor I had for the class with the sound-alike), absolutely freaking out about missing sessions on both Monday and Tuesday. (Studio time was extremely precious at Berklee.)

I was already mortified that I had passed out in my class and had to be taken out of school in an ambulance.

Don’t get me wrong. Obviously, I’m a sucker for attention. I will sing and dance and act for hours if you’ll applaud me. But I didn’t want it this way. This way pretty much sucked.

I like to try to be known for you know, being awesome, and handling a lot at once. I like to be known for being strong and driven, not some weak victim. That’s boring, right?

So my goal was not to tell anyone, and already I had to get another professor in the mix.

Of course, because he is an awesome human being, he was very nice and understanding. He said to focus on my health and we’d worry about the project once I was out of the hospital with the all clear.

We’ll pick up here next week.

Aurora and Her Gas Tank Returning from the Grand Canyon – Part 1 (Gas Station? Gas Station? Bueller?)

May 1, 2012

Picking up my story about driving during the Havasu/Grand Canyon weekend, here’s the ride home.

In the 8 o’clock (AM) hour, I saw gas stations and civilization. At that point, I had been on the road for close to two hours. I thought about stopping. I remembered having a big stretch of nothing on the way out, and I did sort of want to stretch and maybe grab a coffee. But, I decided to wait. I still had close to 3/4 tank of gas. I didn’t think the big stretch of nothing was coming up all that soon, so I wanted to drive a little more before I took a nice stretch break.

Little did I know that “a little more” was going to mean hours. As I’m entering the 12 o’clock hour(!), I was pretty hardcore running out of gas. And I was hungry. And I really wanted to stretch. There were no gas stations anywhere. The one I saw when I decided not to stop was the last one I’d seen in over 3 hours! Where was everything?

Here I am driving through the desert on a hot day. My gas light starts blinking. I turn off the air conditioning, knowing I need to conserve every bit of gas I can. It’s so hot! I drive for a while longer. There has to be a gas station somewhere, right?

Once 20 minutes of seeing this blinking gas light have gone by, I call my dad. Intellectually, I know that my dad is not going to be able to do anything for me when he’s all the way over in Ohio, but I call him anyway. He’s pretty much a superhero. Whenever I’m not sure on what to do, I him for advice. Cars and gas are grown up things. I need him!

I call and tell him I want to let him know that I’m probably gonna die from heat somewhere in southern California. After I’m done being dramatic, I tell him the gas light has been on for 20 minutes, and ask how far I can go, and if he has any idea where I’ll see a gas station.

He hops on Google maps, and checks to see where I am. He doesn’t deliver any good news. It looks like I’m still pretty far away from any gas stations. Anywhere? How can that be? You’re my daddy! Can’t you just make one appear out of thin air? “Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I don’t know of anything I can do for you.”

ironman — This is pretty much how I see my dad if ever I’m in need.
Photo credit: Marvel

Luckily, I had roadside assistance in my big bundle of everything that came with the insurance that my dad told me to pile on. Yeah, he knew what a great driver I am.

I felt good having a safety net, but I knew it’d probably take someone forever to get to me, since I was in the middle of nowhere, and all. I decided to keep driving until I was completely out of gas. I’d chance it and hope for the best.

My dad told me what the car was going to feel like when I ran out of gas, so I was ready. I kept driving and driving and driving. I started to feel like Kramer in this Seinfeld episode.

After far too long, I finally got to merge onto a bigger highway. Not too far into that highway, I see a sign that a Chevron’s coming up at an exit! Seriously? I can’t believe it! I’m really going to make it!

Right before the spot where I would go to exit, the car starts slowing down. I can’t get it to speed up. Uh oh. No, no, no, no, no! I pull over to the side of the road, right before the exit, completely out of gas.

I can see the Chevron from where I am! I want to walk up to it, but there’s a super long (though fairly short) chain link fence as far as my eye can see.

I walk up to the fence and see a police officer pumping gas. “Officer! Do you know how long this fence is? I’m out of gas. I’m hoping not to leave my car unattended on the highway for too long.” “The fence is long. It goes for miles around this exit. Just hop it.” Well, okay then, officer. I’ll take your advice, and just hop this fence. It was weird sounding advice coming from an officer’s mouth, but I was happy to do it.

Am I able to successfully get gas in my car? I’m guessing so since I made it home (and am a somewhat strong, crafty lady if I do say so myself). Find out for sure in part 2.

(#13b) Kentucky Derby Festival miniMarathon – Part 3 (Enjoying The Course, & Catching Up)

April 30, 2012

Yesterday, I left off parting ways with Terry and Randy.

Since this mile isn’t too interesting – I’m just on my way to Churchill Downs by myself – let me give you some highlights from various parts of the race.

I saw fun signs such as “May the course be with you,” and “May the odds be ever in your favor.”

Walgreens gave out free orange slices. That was kind of incredibly awesome.

Before (and after) the race there were people wearing “Ask me” shirts. I didn’t have any questions, but I thought it was awesome that there were answer people scattered around any areas in which runners or spectators would be congregating. A+ job, race directors.

Back to the story at hand – I make it to Churchill Downs, and see Mile Marker 8. Sweet business. I decently hustle through the site of the Kentucky Derby on a little wind-y, paved path in there.

Since the path is winding around, you can see people farther in the distance than you might be able to if we were still in a straight line. Lo and behold, I see Terry and Randy. And I’m pretty sure I can catch them! I take off, pushing myself, running as fast as I did in my first mile.

“Terry! Randy!” I call out once I’m within earshot. They turn around, see me, and slow down as I continue working hard to catch up.

I did it. Right before Mile Marker 9, panting and sweating, I catch up to them. I’m incredibly happy to see them again, as running without them wasn’t as fun.

They were kind enough to say that they’d just been talking about missing running with me. Awww.

My pace definitely slows down in the last four miles, but you know, I’m tired! We mix up some fast walking with some jogging.

Going into mile 12, Terry looks Randy and me, and tells us it’s only a little over 1/10 of a mile to the mile marker, so let’s jog.

Around this time, Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger” blasts out of some nearby speakers. Perfect running song.

We start jogging our way there. Randy goes back to walking a tiny bit before the mile marker. I look at him and yell, “to the mile marker!” He picks it right back up. They had done such a good job of pushing me; I had to return the favor.

At mile marker 11, Terry disappears in the distance, finishing in sub 3 hours. I wanted so badly to run with him, but I couldn’t move that fast!

I encourage Randy to run forward. Assuming I don’t get injured in the last two miles, I can’t imagine a scenario in which I wouldn’t beat my PR. “Thank you for all your help, now run ahead and finish strong!”

He says he’s not finishing without me! We walk most of mile 12. As I reach mile marker 12, I stretch out my legs a little. (They were working hard!) As we left that marker, our time hadn’t quite hit 2 hours and 50 minutes.

I didn’t want to get too lazy in the final 1.1 miles, but I didn’t know how much more I could jog. Randy would have us jog to a stop light, then walk to the next one, and on and on.

Before you knew it, we turned a corner, and there were throngs of cheering spectators.

I happily ran on through. Official time: 3:04:47. Boom, baby! A new PR (by over 7 minutes!).

The fabulous volunteers wrapped me in one of those special plastic blanket things and put my medal on over my head! Celebrity treatment, baby. Did I mention this race was the bomb?

(I think the amazing Planet Smoothie I had the day before helped. In case you haven’t heard, I’m obsessed with Planet Smoothie. It is the most delicious thing. Ever. I drink gobs of it anytime I’m in a magical place that has it.)

I went and enjoyed the wonderful finish festival with Randy and his friends. We saw an awesomely fun recycling booth (sponsored by Coca-Cola). (Recycling is cool.)

I got a free massage and met the coolest, nicest girls – Stephanie and Liz. (You have to see Liz at Beyond Massage Louisville the next time you’re out there.)

My incredible dad hooked me up with my favorite foods – lemons, pickles, and Doritos!

Amazing race. Amazing people. I’ll go ahead and make the absolute statement. This is, thus far, my favorite race of the year.

Thanks so much for coming to my blog!

I’m Aurora (as you probably guessed)!

This blog started when I ran 52 half marathons in 52 weeks after open-heart surgery for a weird congenital heart defect (Wolff-Parkinson White).

(That inspired more “52 in 52 weeks” projects you can see if you scroll down to check ’em out!)

I also won a car on The Price is Right (and lost a trip to Mexico on Let’s Make a Deal).

Currently, I’m completing Project 882 – 882 race miles in a year to represent the 882 Americans sexually assaulted every day.

Thanks again for visiting! Stick around, and read today’s post (to your left), or check out the projects (below), and feel free to contact me – let’s be friends! 🙂