Rockstar

The view from my apartment isn't that special. It doesn't include those famous San Francisco landmarks, like the Golden Gate Bridge, or Alcatraz, or Coit Tower. However, it does provide a cascading sweep of the colorful houses that flank Russian Hill. And when the sun is shining on a Saturday morning, I awake to my glorious city beckoning me outside.

So early this afternoon, after a little laziness and a little more coffee, I got out of my apartment and onto my bike. Down the street towards The Bay, and then on towards The Bridge, I climbed and I cruised. Out of the city and into Marin...

I have lived here for over a year and a half, now. And I have been inspired by the beauty of San Francisco since the first evening on which I drove into the city. But the city was different, today.

Or maybe I was different today. I struggled less climbing Marin Headlands. And I paniced less descending down the hills. I didn't tip over at the stop lights, either. I powered through the entire ride, feeling strong and confident. And it felt great.

Back home, 30 miles and a couple hours later, I looked at the note on my desk my roommate left for me after our last ride a couple of weeks ago. I didn't believe it at the time, but after today's ride, I am starting to believe.

"I'm very proud of you for being such a rock star in all of your new adventures. It's not easy to push beyond your comfort zone - most people never do - and you're killing it."

Thanks, AER, for your continued support. I couldn't imagine doing this without you.

A Baker's Dozen

I was quiet today. Quiet not because I had nothing to say, but because I had so many things to say without knowing where I should begin.

Trying to navigate actions, feelings, and expectations, I make an effort to explain how I see it. Yet eloquence and cogency elude my attempts at conveying how I feel. And I keep fucking up. I don't know where to begin, nor do I know that whenever I (finally) stop talking I will be fully understood.

However, I do find solace in this closeness. And this afternoon, I figured it out. I realized, that everything - in all its elusiveness - really does boil down to the same explanation to which we've both turned for comfort since the beginning.

"This guy goes to a psychiatrist and says, 'Doc, uh, my brother's crazy. He thinks he's a chicken.' And the doctor says, 'Well, why don't you turn him in?' And the guy says, 'I would, but I need the eggs.' Well, I guess that's pretty much how I feel about relationships. You know, they're totally irrational and crazy and absurd, but, I guess we keep goin' through it because most of us need the eggs."

Despite ups, downs, outs, backs, flatlines, and tornadoes. I crack and you crack and yet we still find a way to put things back together. Yes, it's totally irrational and crazy and absurd. But it's also reassuring and comfortable and frankly, wonderful.

More than just a good egg... a baker's dozen.

The View

It was a beautiful winter day in San Francisco. So beautiful, in fact, that I felt it was absolutely imperative that I leave my office early. And I thought I should don some spandex. And some funky shoes with the word, "Shimano" written on them that make walking ridiculously hard. So hard, that the only thing left to do is hop on a bike, and ride.

Except it's not that easy.

Because hopping on a bike involves getting onto the seat. And while I love to brag that my legs are long for a girl of 5'3", my bike seat is high. I mean, you're not supposed to be able to touch the ground when you're sitting on the seat of your bike. And that makes getting started on your bike ride a little difficult.

What also makes it difficult are your pedals. Maybe the pedals aren't difficult. But the combination of the pedals and the funky shoes are effing CRAZY. No, I can't always clip in. Yes, I tipped over a time or two. And hell no, my bike is NOT scratched. Although my knee is a little bruised. You've seen My Bike! Do you really think I'm going to let something happen to her?

Despite the frustration - of stopping - of going - of uphills - of downhills - of clipping in - of clipping out - I persevered. Because cycling is pretty sweet. And I I fucking LOVE my bike!!! And because San Francisco is the perfect place to ride. Across the Golden Gate Bridge and down into Sausalito. Then back up out of Sausalito. And back across the Golden Gate Bridge. Peering out to my right at the sun setting over the seemingly endless Pacific Ocean.

A view so invigorating you can forget the frustration of your first REAL bike ride.

By the end of my ride, my friend JB (who was so patient with me!) said I was starting to fall a little more gracefully. Starting to start a little less stutteringly. And of course, he said I was kicking his ass up the hills. So maybe these lyrics are a little too extreme, but as I sat there, perched over my handlebars, huffing and puffing from both exhaustion and delight, I sang to myself...

"As life gets longer, awful feels softer.
Well it feels pretty soft to me.
And if it takes shit to make bliss,
well I feel pretty blissfully."

"The View" by Modest Mouse, from the Album, Good New for People Who Like Bad News.

And It Stoned Me

I had only been going a half mile when "the rain came pourin' down." And although it would have been totally acceptable to turn around and go back to my couch and television, I kept going.

Maybe it was the music. And maybe it was the chick in yoga pants who sprinted past me - who SHOULD NOT have sprinted past me - but something twitched. In a good way. And I settled into a pace and a rhythm that I haven't felt in...

I can't remember the last time I felt like that.

There was no gasping for breath as I plowed up the hill. There was no beg for mercy when I accellerated down the other side. As the path flattened out and The Bridge came into view, I felt lighter.

"Oh, the water!"

And then it stoned me. The sky opened up and it was slightly miserable, but entirely wonderful out there. My heart thumped and my stride increased. I glided across the pavement, to the bridge and back home again. Feeling as if I were six feet tall. Happy and healthy and balanced and exhausted and invigorated.

Distance: 8.5 miles
Time: 70 minutes
Pace: 8:15 min/mile

"It Stoned Me" by Van Morrision, from the album, Moondance.

Sweetness

It has been a sweet week and a half - on many fronts. So sweet that I haven't had much time to write, but I'll be getting back into that soon...

1) Running: I'm running again. And I don't hate it! Yesterday AER and I went out for a morning trip to The Bridge and Back, completing 7 miles in 56 minutes. Yes, we are back in running shape. It's pretty sweet.

2) Swimming: I'm swimming again, too, for the first time since the early '90s. Yes, I have been getting in the pool and splashing back and forth since early January. But as of this week, I am really SWIMMING. As in, not stopping to suck in air after every few laps but actually paddling back and forth repeatedly. For extended periods of time, repeatedly. And completing, in 29:15, an entire mile. Yes, I'm swimming. I'm really swimming. It's really sweet.

3) Cycling: Yes, cycling. Not spinning, cycling. On a road bike. And not just A road bike, but MY road bike. My Orbea Aqua Dama. She is SUPER SWEET. See for yourself...

4) And Valentine's Day? Well that was also sweet. Really, really, sweet. Just like him.

Staying Power

Except for a few of my friends from college, therapy, at least on the East Coast, is still something many people don't embrace.

However in San Francisco, it seems that almost everyone I know has a therapist. And why not? They have general practitioners to monitor their cholesterol. OBGYNs to routinely check-in and make sure all is well. Personal trainers to make them stronger. Cosmetic surgeons to improve their aesthetic appearance. (OK, that's more of an L.A. thing...)

And over the past few months, it has been pretty amazing to learn just how many people also see a therapist. To monitor their stress. And to make sure they stay well. Balanced, and strong. Not to mention, good looking / looking good...

I feel very lucky to live in an environment where so many of my friends embrace mental health. Their unconditional support the past several months has empowered me to confront so many of my personal challenges with confidence. And this past month, I have realized that I am really starting to feel great. I feel happy. And energized. And good.

A couple of times this month, I have started to wonder if maybe I am "done" with therapy. But after some thought, and after reading this article, I have come to the realization that mental health, just like physical health, has no final destination. I may lower my cholesterol. My pulse. My stress. And I may increase my strength. My speed. My energy. I may one day find the most amazing tooth whitening toothpaste ever. But if I don't continue to work at maintaining these accomplishments, I will surely lose them. My stress level will go back up. My muscles will atrophy. I will surely again grow tired.

So I'm not going to stop going to therapy. As the article suggests, "Perhaps seeing a therapist when you’re in a healthy mental place will actually increase the odds that you’ll stay there."

Ah, staying power. Give it a read... http://www.divinecaroline.com/article/22189/23422

Swim - Swim - Swim

The countdown to Wildflower is on. I have almost two full weeks of base training under my fuel belt/spin shoes/swim cap. More like a month if we count the first couple weeks of January, during which I often - but not too often - woke up early to ease into a 6:00 a.m. spin class or treadmill run.

Before I started training for a triathlon, I figured I'd get in a lot of running, a substantial amount of spinning/cycling, and a couple of swims. But after all this initial training, I have to admit that I have barely run at all. And this week, I haven't even made it to a spin class, yet.

True, work has been a little more chaotic than normal. And the rest of my life has gotten a little more interesting, too. (That's for another post, though...) I have, however, made it to the pool - many many many times - to swim. Maybe it's because the pool is only a couple of blocks from my office. And maybe it's because I like to follow-up my swims with a soak in the steam room. But the fact that I have been swimming more than I have been running is truly a surprise.

And perhaps, maybe the real surprise of triathlon training to date is how much I don't hate swimming. And even better, maybe the surprise is how much I'm not bad at swimming!

When I first started in early January, it took me 39 minutes to swim a mile. (Including rest stops to catch my breath. And to check out the hottie in Lane 1.) But this past Monday I swam a mile in 34 minutes. On Tuesday it took 33 minutes. And today, I swam a mile in 32 minutes.

And tomorrow... Well, I'm going to the pool tomorrow. Oh my god, I like to swim!

Well, I don't know how much I like TO SWIM. But I like TO HAVE GONE FOR A SWIM. Which is how I felt about running at first, too. And that is good enough for me right now, only a couple weeks into Wilflower Training.

So... now that I got that off of my chest... What's a good time for swimming a mile? In a pool and in open water? How fast should I aim to be?

Let's Ride...

Her name is Awesome. Now if only it would effing snow in Tahoe already, I could ride Awesome! And THAT would BE really AWESOME.

The Cat in my Apartment

We've been a family now for almost six months. AER, me, and The Cat. AER's cat.

The Fucking Cat...

The Cat wakes up right 6:00 AM every day. And he cries until one of us feeds him. "REER-REER-REER-REER..." Whoever suggested the onomatopoeia "Meow" is an idiot. The Cat's call for food sounds nothing like a cute "meow."

Each day, after breakfast at dawn, The Cat likes to go for a run around the apartment. Unlike me, The Cat is not so much an endurance athlete. No, there is no slow and steady for The Cat. The Cat is more of a sprinter. A track star, if you will. His specialty is the Feline High Jump. He runs and springs and clears obstacles like my desk. My nightstand. My bookshelf. And the television.

However like me, The Cat often runs into things. He breaks up his morning sprint around the apartment by running into walls. And doors. Also my bed. More than anything, The Cat crashes into my door. You know, my door that I have shut so I can go back to sleep. He crashes into it with his claws. Repeatedly. Scratching. And scratching and scratching.

Until he starts to whimper. The Cat whimpers and whines until AER or I wake-up and go into the living room. Not to feed him - he's already been fed. And not to get him water, as he has his own water fountain. The Cat whimpers and whines simply because he wants us to get out of bed.

And it is at this point that The Cat becomes a real pain in the ass.

Because as soon as one of us gets out of our beds, The Cat runs into either AER's or my bedroom. He then jumps onto the bed out of which one of us has just left. He plops himself onto the pillow on which we were just sleeping. And The Cat, himself, settles in, and goes to sleep.

The Fucking Cat!

The Cat is sitting next to me right now. He is just staring at me. Oh, how I wish I knew what he was thinking! Mysterious cat...

Tonight, when I arrived home from work, The Cat greeted me at the door. He can hear me coming down the hallway. And I can hear him scamper from his favorite chair (which coincidentally, is MY favorite chair) to the door. The Cat slides on our hardwood floors and flips onto his back. He comes to a stop inches from the front door, paws curled, belly exposed, and eyes wide, begging, "Scratch me!"

The Fucking Cat. So damn cute!

He follows me around the apartment as I put down my bag. Collect my mail. Cook dinner. If I've just come in from the gym, and I then change my clothes, The Cat gets comfortable atop my smelly workout gear. (He's particularly a fan of my stinky socks!) When I sit down at the table to read the mail or open my laptop, he jumps up onto my mail or laptop so that I cannot read anything.

And when I do win sitting rights in the chair, to crochet or watch television or to read a book, I often find The Cat is perched to my right on the armrest. I look at him, and he purrs. He crawls around and sits himself down right on my lap. He nuzzles his head into my arm and says, "If you didn't work, we could sit like this ALL DAY!"

The Cat. He loves me!

Sometimes I can't find The Cat. I often find myself panic a little when he disappears. Sometimes I even catch myself peering out the window to make sure he didn't fall out or anything. We have screens and we hardly ever have the windows open, but still, I worry. But deep down, I know I'll find him. And so I go looking... The Cat normally turns up quickly. Under my bed. Under my desk. Under my dresser. Inside my dresser. In my closet. Under my sink. In my shower...

The Cat is a lunatic!

Before I got to bed each night, I head to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. The Cat, sensing that it is time to go to sleep - meanders over to my bedroom. He looks around, tries to act natural. Pretends - just for a second - that he has no interest in jumping onto my bed. But sure enough, up he goes, and around he walks, settling himself right smack in the middle of where I intend to sleep.

He looks startled when I approach the bed. And he raises his eyes as I pull down the covers and request that he please, move OVER just a tad. I scratch his neck, and he obliges. Purring, he gives me a good night sniff. We play for a few minutes and he gnaws at my hand. He settles down and goes to sleep right next to me. Next to me - not AER. He's her cat, but he likes to sleep with me.

The Cat. I fucking LOVE this cat!

Puck

Beard Burn

My chin is kind of dry. And red. It's also a little sore. I look kind of silly, to be honest. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Light skin. Red chin...

Why is my chin so red?

Shit - I have beard burn!

Oh, that's SO good! Beard burn... Certainly NOT going to find any complaints about beard burn here.

(Giggle)

California Girl

Deep down, I'll always be an East Coast Girl. Particularly, one with roots in the Mid-Atlantic. I'll always walk at a quicker pace than the rest of the crowd. I'll always tell a story in half the time it takes my friend from Richmond, Virginia to relay it. I'll always roll my eyes at the cheesesteaks, pizza, and bagels sold in every state other than Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York.

But California - and in particular, San Francisco - has really rubbed off on me, I have to admit. Yesterday morning, I ordered an Avocado and Cheese omelette for breakfast. I just got back from running an errand and heard myself mutter, "It's effing COLD out!" (Please note that the outside temperature is 48 degrees.)

Furthermore, I've noticed that I no longer jump crosswalks. Why start crossing the street without the walk signal, just to risk getting hit by a car in order to cut 5 seconds from my travel time? Time is on my side! What's the rush? According to my new outlook, everything gets done. Eventually.

Believe it or not, I roughly drove my car no more than fifteen times in 2006, and 5 of those times were when my family came to visit me. (1 - To SFO, 2 - To Ocean Beach, 3 - From Ocean Beach, 4 - To Napa, 5 - From Napa.) Also during the past year, I received 2 parking tickets ($80) and was once towed ($300). Add in $1000 for car insurance, and the hours spent circling for a parking spot, and it is very easy to conclude that owning my very own car is far from priceless.

So I'm selling! I spent today scheduling appointments for people to check out my car, which I recently posted as FOR SALE on SF Craigslist.org.

Once I sell, I'm going to take the funds buy a road bike and a snowboard. A trade-in that my co-worker, also an East Coast transplant, says completes my transformation from a Philly Hoe (kidding!) to a California Girl...

Sounds good to me, but I think I forgot to start surfing, so I'll get working on that.

Procrastination

Getting back into the swing of blogging this week, and what do you know, I've been tagged! (Walchka!)I have a meeting in a half hour, but let's see if I can get this done...

The Book Survey

1. Find the nearest book. (OK...)
2. Name the book & the author. (Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris)
3. Turn to page 123. (OK...)
4. Go to the fifth sentence on the page. Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.

"When the holidays rolled around I used to rent a moving van and drive into the city, snatching up every bright new extravagance that caught my eye. Our twin sons, Taylor and Weston, could always count on the latest electronic toy or piece of sporting equipment. Beth might receive a riding vacuum cleaner or a couple pair of fur-lined jeans and those were just the stocking stuffers!"

5. Tag three more folks. - I'll take volunteers...

The A-B-C Survey

A-Available or Single? Always...
B-Best Friend? AER, my roommate.
C-Cake or Pie? Pie. With ice cream.
D-Drink of choice? Red wine.
E- Essential Item? Cell phone.
F-Favorite color? Red.
G-Gummi Bears or worms? Bears. Orange ones.
H-Hometown? Newtown, PA - outside of Philadelphia!
I-Indulgence? Lately - snowboarding.
J-January or February? February! Birthday!
K-Kids & names? One day, 2 boys and a girl. Or three boys. Perhaps Kyle, Regan, and... Well, I guess the father should be able to weigh in, so I'll only pick two.
L-Life is incomplete without? Laughing.
M-Marriage Date? Not sure I'll get married...
N-Number of siblings? 1 - The Brother
O-Oranges or Apples? Oranges. Unless we're talking pie.
P-Phobias/Fears? Open water swimming.
Q-Favorite Quote"It is never too late to be what you might have been." - George Eliot
R-Reason to smile? I'm going to see Justin Timberlake tonight!
S-Season? Fall. Fall in San Francisco...
T-Tag three people: Volunteers?
U-Unknown fact about me: Like I'm going to share that?
V-Veggie I hate: Broccoli.
W-Worst Habit? I say "sorry" too much.
X-X-rays you've had? Arms, legs, teeth...
Y-Your favorite food? Ice cream.
Z-Zodiac? Pisces.

Warming Up

Here's a surprise - I'm not too fond of doing things that I'm not good at. Hold the phone, I know. I really hate being bad at anything, so quite often, I just completely avoid those things that I'm bad at.

Enter The Year of Yes, and I can no longer run from these deficiencies. These perceived weaknesses.

Yes, in The Year of Yes, not only am I putting on a bathing suit - more than once a week! - I am also donning a cap and goggles. I'm jumping into the pool. Taking a breath, going under, and pushing off. I kick and crawl and flip and turn... And to date, I haven't drowned.

It's not that I can't swim. I spent a good few years on a swim team when I was growing up. Practicing twice a day - 8:30 AM and 4:30 PM. Diving in, swimming laps, and getting out. Diving in, swimming laps, and getting out. Staring at the black line, waiting for the "T", and then doing a somersault. Staring at the black line again.

The fact that I'm willingly subjecting myself to the monotony of swimming is appauling.

And the fact that I just might be warming up to it... well, that's just an example of what can happen when you start saying YES.

Today's Stats:
Type: Swim
Distance: 1 Mile
Time: Too long...

Hope and Tonic

The results are in - I have been receiving treatment for major depression for nearly three months, now: and I feel better. Happy, good. Therapy - in all its shapes and forms - truly is ameliorative.

Unfortunately, I'm still exhausted, and my doctors weren't pleased. So it was back to the blood work. And as it turns out, I have subclinical hypothyroidism. I've read various articles that report as many as 10% - 20% of women have subclinical hypothyroidism; however most cases have no or very mild symptoms. Other research I've encountered is more alarming.

In one study, researchers found that subclinical hypothyroidism may increase the occurrence of depression. And in another article, I read how both subclinical hypothyroidism and major depression share a common physiological basis: triiodothyronine and L-tryptophan. Triiodothyronine, also referred to as T3 , is a hormone produced by the thyroid. L-tryptophan is a chemical present in the brain and a precursor to the manufacture of serotonin. Lower availability of L-tryptophan results in lower levels of serotonin in the brain - yes, the dreaded, "chemical imbalance."

Findings show that both T3 and L-tryptophan appear to be taken up by the same portion of red blood cells in the brain. And studies based on these finding suggest that taking a thyroid hormone replacement to treat subclinical hypothyroidism in addition to antidepressants speeds recovery of depression.

So that's the plan. I am now taking a synthetic thyroid hormone called levothyroxine. Levothyroxine is a synthetic derivative of thyroxine, also referred to as T4. Taking the medication should normalize the levels of TSH, T4, and T3 in my bloodstream. I take this new medication every morning. And luckily, it's available in a generic form, so it will only cost me $10 a month. (And believe me, I never thought I'd be complaining about prescription drugs at 26...)

It may take up to six weeks for my symptoms improve while taking a thyroid hormone replacement. However I should expect moderate weight loss (yes!), less puffiness (yes-yes!), improved pulse (no complaints!), improvements in anemia (woo hoo!), less dry skin (nice!), thicker hair (very nice!), and lower LDL cholesterol (fantastic!).

Levothyroxine - please, start making miracles happen! Because I simply cannot wait to not always be so tired. There is just so much I want to do. And I don't want to sluggishly experience any of it! I want to be alert and energetic and excited! And I'm hopeful that I will be. Thank you modern medicine!

And thank you, Orison Swett Marden. I'm not quite sure where I originally found this quote, but it seems rather apropos at the moment.

“There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better tomorrow.” - Orison Swett Marden

A Decemberist

The holidays really sneak up on you when your walk to work takes you past palm trees. And now, it's already December 24! Christmas Eve!

Looking back on how crazy the past few weeks have been, I realize that I live for December. For parties and cookies and egg nog. Friends and laughing and shopping and presents. Cheesy music and singing. Red dresses and white lights. LOTS of white lights.

December is happy. It really is, "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year."

The month went by very quickly, and now it is time to officially celebrate the holidays. This year I'll have Christmas in Lake Tahoe. With my roommate, AER, in her cabin in Squaw Valley. It's a great cabin in a fantastic location, almost walking distance from the mountain. (You can see the lifts from the kitchen table - if you look out past the hot tub on the deck!)

It is beautiful up here. And I am very excited to spend the rest of December in Lake Tahoe. It will be a wonderful way to enjoy the rest of my favorite month.

A very Merry Christmas to you all...

The Wild West

Living on the West Coast can make a girl go a little Wild...

And that's what exactly what I plan to tell myself when January rolls around and I begin my quest to complete a 1.5K swim, a 40K bike, and 10K run in Lake San Antonio, Monterey County, CA on Sunday May 6, 2007.

I'll tell myself that I'm WILD. Yes, wild. Wild, but not CRAZY!

I don't know, I'm a little nervous. Fortunately Walchka - who was in San Francisco this past weekend - seemed to think that my plans to take a swim/bike/run on the Wild side were pretty awesome. Come January, I hope I agree with him!

For now, though, I am feeling good. Great, even. I am finally starting to feel rested. And I am ready to tackle a new challenge... Well, I'll be ready in a couple more weeks. No need to rush into things. The goal is to be WILD. Yes, wild. Wild, not CRAZY!

¡España, Otra Vez!

2006.11.27 - Madrid y Toledo

I don’t spend a lot of time in cars. And when I do, I’m not normally driving. I’m being chauffeured. Most of the time, the chauffeuring is being done by a taxi cab driver. But on Saturday night, Dad was driving. He and Mom were driving me to the airport in Philadelphia, after a few days in PA celebrating Thanksgiving. Nine hours later, I was sitting in a limousine on my way to the Ritz Carlton Madrid.

It’s a tough life…

I arrived to a plate of chocolates, nuts, and dried fruits. But I was too tired to notice. I crawled into my bed and awoke nearly four hours later. I proceeded to take one of the best showers of my life. The water pressure and water flow was amazing. Seriously, I felt like I was standing under a steady stream of buckets of water. Better be a good shower for 480 Euros a night, right?

At 9:30 PM, I met the team for dinner. These late dinners absolutely KILL me. Spain and food in general kill me. I’m rather certain that my meal cost about 100 Euros. And I would have been just as satisfied eating a salad from Whole Foods for seven bucks. I don’t get Spanish food, really. So much bread. So little meat. So much fat. At least they poured healthy servings of wine.

The next day, we had a large meeting with almost 100 doctors and scientists who would participate in this clinical trial. The meeting went very well, and the presentation I gave ranks as one of the coolest speeches I have ever given. I was the only American in attendance at the meeting. And even though the participants were doctors and scientists, not everyone is completely fluent in English. Hence, my presentation was translated into Czech, French, Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish. Everyone wore headphones while I spoke. It’s how I envision the United Nations operates. I couldn’t help but get wrapped up in that idea. It was cool.

After the meeting, the group attended a fancy dinner out on the town in Madrid. We ate in what used to be a casino but is now a space for private parties. At the dinner, I quickly made friends with the Italian doctors. Or rather, they quickly made friends with me. They noticed that my last name ends in a vowel, and had to ask, “From what village is your family?”

(Now, Dad, before you get all excited and impressed by these Italian men, you should know they are very disappointed that you have not brought your family to your homeland. And their eyes nearly bulged out of their heads when they heard that your Irish wife has been to Italy but you have not. So, maybe you should get on that?)

After a brief meeting Tuesday morning, I found myself with a free day in España. So I packed my bags and headed to the train station, La Estacion de Atoche. Just a few blocks from my hotel, I walked there, suit case in tow, and purchased a ticket to Toledo. Toledo is a small town approximately 70 kilometers outside of Madrid. A thirty-minute train ride followed by a 5 minute cab ride, and I was checked into my hotel, Toledo Imperial, right next to El Alcazar.

As I stood out on my balcony, looking at the cobblestone, labyrinth-like maze of city streets, I couldn’t believe I had taken myself all the way from San Francisco through the Spanish country-side and into what is essentially a medieval town. All without speaking more than a few words of English. For anyone who has traveled abroad extensively, this little trip from Madrid to Toledo is no big deal. But to me, traveling on my own, in Europe only for the second time in my life... I was a little pleased with myself. But I've always been good at navigation!

And so I dropped off my bags, grabbed my camera, and set out to explore the town. I shopped. I ate. I took pictures. I realized I needed an adapter to plug in my electronics, so I hunted one down. No one spoke English, so my Spanish skills were put to the test, but I survived. And I bought an adapter for only 1,50 Euros. My fun was cut short by rain, but it was still a nice trip outside of Madrid. Toledo is a beautiful city, and I highly recommend this day trip to anyone visiting Madrid.

I got back to San Francisco late last night. The return trip took roughly twenty-four hours, from hotel to train station to airport (Madrid) to airport (Philadelphia) to airport (San Francisco) to apartment. It is amazing how tiring it is to sit on your ass in an airplane all day. Especially after a few days of leisurely strolling around town barely speaking to anyone.

This month alone, I have traveled 23,134 miels on United. That's a lot of miles. And a lot of hours. A lot of time staring at the "Welcome to United Economy Plus" sticker. And a lot of time thinking about life. But as exciting as traveling is, it's nice to be home again. Nice to get back into the groove. Again. ¡Otra vez!

All I Want for Christmas 2006

It is that time of year again. And it has been since the day after Halloween. But in honor of Black Friday, I think it best to compose The List: All I Want for Christmas 2006.

1. Energy. To wake up at 6:00 a.m. every day.
2. Courage. To try new activities, like snowboarding and skiing and wakeboarding.
3. Inspiration. To never settle.
4. Charisma. To make each day brighter.
5. Serenity. At home. At work. Despite the stress.
6. Love. From a man.
7. Loyalty. From my friends.
8. Support. From my family.
9. Ambition. To train for another race.
10. Perseverance. To push through when it gets difficult.
11. Speed. To run a marathon in 3:40.
12. Acceptance. Of myself. For what I am and what I am not.
13. Understanding. Of my brother. For what he is and what he is not.
14. Patience. With my mother. And my father. Because I am only going to need more as the years pass.
15. Discipline. To resist chocolate. Alcohol. Peanut butter. (In excess…)
16. Forgiveness. For everything.
17. Optimism. Because goodness often hides.
18. Empathy. For everyone I know and love.
19. Humor. Because I rarely feel like doing sit-ups.
20. Laughter. Is there anything better on which I can blame the wrinkles around my eyes?
21. Introspection. To write and read and think.
22. Money. For now. And for later.
23. Conversation. Over pots and pots of coffee.
24. Pride. For who I am today. And for who I am going to be.
25. Joy. To share with those around me.
26. Growth. Despite the pains.
27. Thoughtfulness. To give great presents.
28. Depth. Underneath layers and layers and layers.
29. Thick skin. To shrug off the criticism.
30. Confidence. To toe the line.
31. Curiosity. To explore. Dream. Discover.
32. Peace. To sleep soundly.
33. Flexibility. To bend when it’s necessary.
34. Leadership. And something to believe in.
35. Chemistry. And snap, crackle, pop.
    
36. Surprise. Every once in a while. To keep it interesting.
37. Warmth. In a smile.
38. Comfort. In the embrace of someone I love.
39. Excitement. In the ordinary.
40. Excellence. Because anything worth doing, is worth doing excellently.
41. Frequent Flyer Miles. To soak it all in.
42. A porch swing. On which to sit on a clear night.
43. A bay window. From which to view the San Francisco skyline.
44. A boat. By which to sail away.
45. Sand between my toes. While I lie and think about nothing.
46. Musicality. Because life needs a soundtrack.
47. Wisdom. To know what is important.
48. To be genuine. "Even better than the real thing..."
49. Creativity. To alleviate boredom.
50. To "make the most of [myself], for that is all there is of [me]." (Emerson)
    

On the Road

For a while now, it has been hard to get started. Running. Going to yoga. Cleaning my room. Returning phone calls. And of course, writing.

But once I do get started, things aren't as bad as I think they'll be. I am always glad I went on that run. Or to that yoga class. I am always pleased with myself for cleaning my room. I am always happy after catching up with that old friend.

And with all that said, I do feel a little bit better about a few things. It is good to get in a benchmark of where I am out in the open. Because in the future, I will only feel "better" with a frame of reference for where I was.

And so, I am now officially on the road. Again. For the first time.

On the road, training for another race. (Kaiser Permanente San Francisco Half Marathon) I'm training with my roommate this time, which will be great. We'll run three-four days a week with plenty of cross training activities to keep it interesting. I am excited.

On the road, traveling for work and pleasure. I just got back from Phoenix and I'm headed to Philadelphia to visit my family for Thanksgiving tomorrow night. From Philadelphia, I'll continue onto Madrid for another work meeting, then onto Toledo for some exploration on my own.

On the road, to figuring out what I really want to get out of therapy. And on the road, to reaching inner peace and happiness.

80 Degrees and Sunny

...

Been staring at this draft for a while, now. Not quite sure where to begin. For starters, I'm in San Francisco. NOT Chicago. The meeting I was supposed to have in Chicago next week - the meeting to deliver my most recent project at work to the client - was cancelled. On Thursday afternoon. And with it, my flight to Chicago on Saturday morning to run in the Chicago Marathon.

Since Thursday afternoon I have been angry, and sad. Frustrated and stressed. Irritated with my project. My client. My job. And, if I'm being honest, my life. Because it always seems to work this way. Up and down and up again and down again. Hurry up and wait. Get it done yesterday turned, eh, it's not really needed anymore. I am overwhelmed and exhausted and tired. I am so tired. I really have never been this tired in my entire life. And I need... well, I don't know what I need. Or want, at this point. Other than to figure it out. I need and want to make some changes.

But admist the fluster and aggravation and disappointment, I am relieved, too. RELIEVED!

Because I'm not prepared. I'm not prepared to run this marathon. On such little sleep and so few long runs. Through rain and 40 degree temperatures. I'm not ready to attack the physical challenge of the marathon. Furthermore, and more importantly, I'm really not ready to attack the mental challenge. For so many reasons...

So I didn't buy my own ticket to Chicago. And I am not running this race tomorrow. I'm not going to push myself through something else that's been on my list of things to do just to cross it off. I'm not going to run myself down any more than I already am. I'm not going to just, "make it work."

It is 80 degrees and sunny today in San Francisco. I am going to take a long walk to the bridge, and I am going to read my book, and I am going to clear my head.