winter runnerland.

i have a love/hate relationship with running during the winter.

i love the way it makes my body feel (when i'm not actually engaged in the activity itself); i hate the way it makes my body feel (when i'm entering that last home stretch and my muscles are THISCLOSE to completely giving up the ghost). i love being up that early in the morning, and seeing what the world looks like before the workday begins; i hate being up early enough in the morning that i am out on the road before the sun has risen. i hate the burning in my lungs during that last mile; i love the rasp in my lungs as i cool down, as my body adjusts to deeper lungfuls of frigid air. i love running in the snow; i hate worrying that i will slip and die on a patch of black ice.

i hate that my i can't leave the house without wearing all of the following: tights, leggings, pants, two wifebeaters, one tee shirt, legwarmers for my arms, wool socks, a fleece jacket, a fleece scarf, a bandanna and a hat. while warm (and necessary), the uniform is almost too complicated to deal with at a half past six in the morning.

i love watching the steam rise off my hands as i peel off my gloves; i love untying my scarf as i walk the last block home, feeling the cold air rush in and envelop my scalding skin. i love that i am now more in tune with my body, at least to the point where i can tell if i am sickening, or if i am pushing myself too hard by how difficult the first half of my run is. i love running on sundays, arguably the only day of the week where i've had enough rest. i love the quiet time. i love that i get a half hour three days a week that nobody can encroach upon.

i love that i can chase a bus four city blocks at top speed and not be out of breath. in heels.

while it won't replace wailing on a punching bag (which is something i need to look into doing again), i think that running is helping me find a certain amount of peace.

p.s. i am in desperate need of new running music--fast, poppy, catchy. suggestions?

simple pleasures.

coffee brewed at home, just the way i like it (cinnamon, sugar, vanilla soy milk).
throwing a good party.
buying dinner for my roommate because he beat me to mopping the floor.
alias marathons.
blueberries on special.
scott bakula (circa 1995), shirtless.
that moment in rehearsal when suddenly things start to work.
chocolate pudding.
laughing (even when it's at myself)--so hard that my head starts to hurt.
this
and this
clean socks. lots and lots of clean socks.
daydreaming about where i'd like to travel this year.
the ever increasing length of days around here.
rainer maria (i mean, who even thinks about writing a love song about the end of the world?)

it's day 4 of Thinking Positively. so far, so good.

what are your simple pleasures?

mind over matter. or something.

so, i'm currently working very hard to try out this "power of positive thinking" thing. while brunching with biscuit, he brought to my attention a philosophy known as "the secret," wherein everything will work out if you just expect it to (see also: biscuit's natural outlook).

this is kind of an alien concept to me, queen and landlady of extreme pessimism. i always expect everything to go horribly awry and get kicked in the teeth for my trouble. and consequently (according to The Secret), this is why it so frequently happens.

it's a shame; i'm not sure i've always been like this. there was a time when new opportunities and risks and challenges were GREAT things--things to be conquered! things in which everything would go okay! (of COURSE i'll get that solo. of COURSE i'll make this shot. of COURSE i will win this race/prize/whatever). i don't know if it's a factor of age or just a factor of having been repeatedly disappointed throughout my adult life (terrible jobs, questionable boyfriends, the fiery death of my marriage, bouts with depression, not being able to get my shit together to accomplish anything, being repeatedly ignored by my father, etc etc etc), but my outlook has changed significantly since those heady days of youth. i'm not sure if i'm trying not to tempt the fates by remaining humble, or if i'm just resigning myself to disappointment. or, more to the point, i've resigned myself to being disappointed. disappointed in my life because it's inevitably crap. disappointed in myself for not being more extraordinary. for not living up to my potential. or something.

this is part of the reason that i'm trying out this positive thinking thing--i am really tired of hating myself (judging from the three interventions i got last week, so is everyone else i know). i am really tired of assuming that everything in my world is going to turn out stupid, and that it's my fault because i'm a bad, boring person. i'm over it. i am tired of being unhappy, and i am tired of settling. and most of all, i am tired of being to mean to myself (and oh, don't underestimate just how mean i can be). i am just plain tired.

i want love, i want happiness, i want joy and excitement, i want to be extraordinary, the way i once knew i was. i want to EXPECT it. i want to feel it is my due for being a good friend, and a good person; for just being plain awesome (convincing myself of that last part, however, is also something i'm working on doing).

so i'm trying. and i know it's going to be hard. so very, very hard. but you have to learn how to order from the universe sometime, i'm told. and for me that time starts now.

(please feel free to send encouraging thoughts/vibes/words. because this, i think, is harder than anything i've ever done.)

tell me.

while this year has been more prolific than most in recent memory, it's not nearly so prolific as i'd like, which is why it's always a thrill when i come up with something that i like, something that gets caught in my head and makes me skip a little as i walk down the street.

something like this.

enjoy the sounds of my existential crisis.

i don't think i can roll my eyes any harder.

you! what the fuck makes you think it's okay to break our plans without informing me?

and you! you are married! what the hell are you doing flirting with me?

and YOU! i wasn't even talking to you. kindly remove your hand from my ass.

i am appalled (APPALLED) and disappointed in equal measures. menfolk: do me a favor and explain yourselves. seriously. please. i can't even fathom your species anymore, and i might need to sequester myself in a remote nunnery if i don't get a little insight.

anyone? anyone?

yarrr!

today, for reasons i'd rather not disclose right now, has been absolutely, positively idiotic. not depressing or heart-rending or anything, just stupid and irritating. and i'm torn between hysterical laughter over its stupidity and just being in a Very Bad Mood.

the prospect of free swanky food, however may tip me over into hysterical laughter. far more fun, anyway. yeah.

things that are making things a little better:

1. at least the sun is shining.
2. the song "dancing under influence" by bedroom eyes ("here, take my hand, take my last lucky strike" is currently jockeying for the honor of Most Romantic Lyric I've Heard Lately--if that gives any indication of how things are going in my life)
3. i have written a new song that i'm kind of a little bit in love with.

how's everyone out there?

walk, idiot, walk.

so, while i wasn't busy this weekend having an existential crisis, i was off in the wilds of the williamsburg/greenpoint borderlands, getting my reportage on at the 2007 idiotarod. it's something i'd wanted to see for a couple of years, but never quite gotten it together to do. hipsters in january are not always enough of a draw to inspire me to leave my cocoon. however, now that i live off the F train, it seemed like a great idea at the time. so, armed with the beast (the canon EOS 30d) and not nearly enough hand-warming equipment, i set out on saturday to the scene of the crime.

and crime scene it appeared to be, with the original starting line in McCarren park swarmed and surrounded by our boys (and girls) in blue. (oh, that's right--technically, the idiotarod is illegal. did i forget to mention that?) this impressive display meant that there was nary a cart to be seen at the park, as all the kids in the know decamped to an alternate starting line.

i was fortunate enough to spot a costumed and carted brigade on their way to this new address, and managed to tag along in their entourage. along the way we picked up some vikings and some bobsledders, and enough information to guide us to two new destinations--one false, the other the park at the corner of franklin and clay, where still more police and a jug band awaited us. as i said, we were among the first people there, so i was afforded the opportunity to get a good look at the teams as they trickled in. we had the whimsical (silent film characters),

the silly (the superwapping shatners),

the brilliant (team back to the future, complete with huey lewis tunes and doc brown in a fright wig),

and the just plain weird (the disaster vagina, complete with raw fish to use as weapons). (no, sorry, no pictures of that one)

as the crowd swelled, the scene swarmed with press and police; cameras abounded, and we even had the honor of being circled endlessly by a police helicopter. i took about a hundred and fifty pictures, but never quite managed to capture the energy of the event. i did have a few people thinking i was press (the beast has that effect on people), buttering me up for their moments of fame. i almost hated to disillusion them with the truth, but i have a sneaking suspicion it's not ethical to impersonate a press photographer.

the start of the race was A Scene, and among the most frenetic things i've ever seen (and i will say, you've not lived until you've jumped into a construction site in order to avoid being mowed down by an army of people wielding funny costumes and shopping carts). it was, simply put, awesome. like a hundred million hot dogs.

ultimately, i trundled home a little starry-eyed, a lot colder (my hands were so cold i couldn't hold my metrocard), and quite a bit wiser in the knowledge that i was not really cool enough to be there. but neither was anyone else, so it was completely okay.

who's with me for next year?