god likes to mess with me 31 August 2007

August 31 Friday
9:30-9:50 run/walk more running than walking
Today’s iMix…or, “God likes to mess with me”:
Fools Rush in—Jimmy Dorsey
Deathly—Aimee Mann
The Engine Driver—Decemberists
Shimmer—Fuel
Comfortable—John Mayer
Sons of Cain—Ted Leo
Tell me what it takes to let you go—Aerosmith

Ugh. My iPod won’t work. And I don’t have time to worry about fixing it. I don’t have time to look at wordpress and .mac for blog ideas for 30 minutes either, but I just did that. Damn you internet and technology!

Am getting better at the running, even imagine doing the 6k at the sunshine run, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
What an f-ed up morning. (PS—the eye twitch is back) after waking up from dreams about Ex Boyfriend, the iMix Made To Remind Me Of Him comes on. And I’m a perfect blend of really really mad at him, and really really indifferent toward him. In this strange limbo world where I’m not sure whether I’ll ever see him again, and not sure how I feel about that. But at the same time sure that I probably will talk to and see him again, just knowing how we are. I just don’t know when and under what circumstances, and I HATE that. I should STOP defining my life by him now, as I should’ve done multiple times over the last few years. MY life as an artist and a woman can have meaning without him in it, and I hate that I second-guess that sometimes. I hate that I have to think about him when The Engine Driver comes on, and now dammit my iPod won’t get off of shuffle, the menu button is screwing up. Why the crashing down, life? Huh??? Exboyfriend melancholy and technology breaking down around me. And I need to go to work and then get my apartment ready for Jennie to visit. And there are more important things to think about. Like shopping in Branson…

Just thinking this a.m. how it’ll be an adjustment to having a person with me 24/7 over the weekend, I’ve become a happy little hermit when I’m at home. Walking around sportsbra clad as I please.

So this became far less about running and far more about my petty problems. Grow it up, kid.
I’m just worried about my freaking iPod…

quitters never win 29 August 2007

Wed Aug 29
8:50-9:10 a.m. walk/run down Benton
today’s iMix:
Southern Belles in London—The Faint
Break Me Slowly—Foreign Oren (FO making the mix. Nice!)
Miss New Booty—I laugh at myself
Smiley Faces—Gnarls Barkley
Grace—Jeff Buckley
In Repair—John Mayer, ain’t it the truth.

So…you take 2 days off, and you lose all progress. I know this isn’t true, but it feels that way when I can’t muster more than 5 minutes of running. I know there will be setbacks and fluctuations, true of all forms of progress: in my relationships, in writing, in growing up, in improv, in running, in life. But part of me is the first grader who quit spelling bee because she wasn’t naturally good at it.

“Your next word is OF”
“U.V.?” Phonics. It’s how I roll.

But for real. I stick to what I know, what feels natural, what I excel at. Knowing those rare things in which I don’t excel: basketball, sports knowledge in general, car repair, intricate computer skills, bassoon play—are best left to others who do.

But there’s something to be said for taking risks, and sticking with things even when they are a challenge. So running is one that I think I’ll stick with. I’m okay of giving up all hope of ever playing the bassoon, on the other hand.

runner’s high 26 August 2007

Sunday, August 26
10:10-10:40 run/walk
today’s iMix:
16 Military Wives—I have to learn to love The Decemberists again.
Failure—Kings of Convenience good!
Gasolina—even better! Reggaeton! (wow I’m in a good mood today)
Shaving Too—Mitch Hedberg
Only the Good Die Young—My legs are Billy Joel’s metronome
Come on Feel the Illinoise!—Sufjan. Love to run to him on a beautiful clear day. It makes all of life and humanity seem more hopeful. Who knew a simple piano melody could do that to my heart, but it’s like the sound version of a peanuts cartoon. Simple, profound, wise, charming, perfect.
I Believe (when I fall in love with you it will be forever)—Oh Stevie, you know the way to my heart…

Ok so writing outside on the porch, not quite the pristine situation I envisioned. And by porch I mean stoop. As if I am the Huxtables in Chicago and not me in Springfield. It’s just too gorgeous NOT to write outside after my run, a little precarious though the whole situation is, given the bugs, the dirt, and that I could potentially drop myself or macbook over the ledge, should anyone come up and scare me. (dear Jesus, no!)

Charted a new course today, figuring on a Sunday morning traffic will be the lightest of the week, and so I followed the course Matt mentioned down Benton to St. Louis, 2 miles round trip. It was nice to not have the mental mile markers of “halfway done, don’t stop yet!” I just knew I was running, and wouldn’t let myself stop until I got to that stoplight. I must try new scenery more often. It makes the whole process more fun to give my mind something new to look at. Lots to be seen down Benton too. Trash down below, traffic passing by, the downtown skyline.

I can’t stop thinking about my blog now. It’s so exciting to know that soon I’ll be doing what I should’ve done a long time ago (ha, kind of like working out). And I also can’t believe how good I feel today. Surely part of it has to be the weather, the not-stifling heat for the first time in what feels like weeks, the breeze rustling the not-yet oranging leaves, the clear pale sky, all the little squirrels storing up for winter. There’s even an old couple sitting at the fountains together. The day just couldn’t get more perfect. I know that fall is on its way—bringing with it all my favorite things…candy corn trail mix, Halloween colors, fall décor, the chill of sweater weather, Christmas shopping, cider, pumpkin scented candles, the crunch of leaves. OH I’m so excited I can hardly stand it.

And I know another reason I’m in a good mood: the whole day sits in front of me, and I officially have NO obligations. No one to meet, nothing to plan, no place to be at any certain time. Sure, that doesn’t stop me from making a to-do list 8 miles long, but it’s all ME on MY TIME, and I am content to the Nth degree.

And, I am in better shape than I was a month ago! I can for real feel the results, if I can’t quite see them yet. I feel better about my thighs, but I think that’s more because I feel better about ME, and my thighs are part of the whole package. I am now addicted to exercise again, and I couldn’t be happier. Knowing how I get without it…the me who’s depressed and sleeps in until after 10:00 and eats everything in her path (well, I still do that last one…) But I just FEEL so much better. I sleep better, and I wake easier and I have more energy, and all those things magazines and Oprah have been telling me all along, and I KNEW all along, are TRUE. SO now I know if I just keep doing it, I’ll only get better, and look better, and feel better, and it can only get BETTER!

Wow. The optimism. I know that something is going to come along to make it all come crashing down. But for now, nothing…not the fire alarm, not my complete confusion over my relationship future, not my doubts about grad school and stress of my job, none of that can come close to the ……..RUNNER’S HIGH! Hold up! That’s what this is. My endorphins are tricking me into thinking life is all daisies and kittens.

Dag.

Well, that’s okay. If I keep running I’ll keep getting this feeling, and I’ll keep being really excited about life, at least a few times a week.

squirrels and the psych ward 24 August 2007

Fri Aug 24
8:20-8:40 ran one mile. Again. Booyah.

iMix:
All Justin Timberlake all the time. Love JT now and forever.
Two thoughts:

1) Squirrels
2) The psych ward.

And no, not as in

1) I am one
2) I belong in one.

The squirrels are just so darn cute at old DU, I have to stop myself from pausing in my run to make various high pitched girly cutesy sounds. (This is the reaction most girls have to babies. I’m not most girls.) They’re just so adorable with their superfast arm movements as they groom or consume tree fodder. The way they freeze in mid frenzy the second they see me coming, ears perked, eyes wide, and then scamper one way or another if I get too close. I just can’t get enough, and I wonder how much they are able to comprehend in their squirrel brains. “Here comes another one of those fast humans. So scary and red faced and panting. She must want to eat me. I can think of no other logical explanation. Run!”

As for 2) Every time I run by Cox North, and I guess that makes today and yesterday…up until then I was unable to run that far…I think to myself something like, “I’m running to keep myself out of there.” Or without even putting it into words, there’s a palpable feeling of dread and memories of visits, and knowing I don’t want to ever get that far down the road. And I know one way I can prevent it is to keep running down the road–to, by, and past Cox North, as fast as I can.

9:30 a.m.
Why is it that every time I switch on the Today show while eating breakfast—and I don’t do it all that often—they are talking about workout-related stuff? Today, Gabrielle Reese who is HELLA tall, was marketing her new campaign to get girls into sports, and showing off cute tshirts that say “athlete” and such. And I don’t feel like I’m going to become one of those “GIRLS ARE HARD CORE!” people who thinks that baseball is more important than ballet or Barbies. I think that just because girls CAN play sports, that doesn’t mean that all girls SHOULD. I believe that all children should take art classes and be exposed to literature, but you don’t see many boys wearing tshirts that say “artistic”. It’s interesting the ways we choose to empower people. Nike can profit from girls wearing athlete tshirts. Who profits from other hobbies? YES it’s healthy to be active, but there are 100 other ways to be active other than organized sports. Not all girls are ubercompetitive Not all girls like to be public with their workouts.
Huh. Didn’t mean to turn into a rant. But okay. Take a shower.

5280 feet 22 August 2007

Wed Aug 22

7:31 a.m.: deep, dark secret confessed…sometimes I snack before bed. I mean, nowhere near the literal fourth meal I used to consume last year, but last night after Elliott left (ex-boyfriend/good friend is moving to California. talk about excuse to snack…) I read On Chesil Beach in bed and ate 2 corn cakes. I justify that it’s just corn cakes. Just 2. But just 2 is still 70 calories, and I can’t afford to let those sneak up on me again, and make me not fit in my cute new clothes—or tight old ones. Looking and feeling good matter too much to mindlessly eat, and I HAVE to remember that. Because I’m hungry for breakfast in the morning whether I snacked or not, so it’s better to not. Stop the guilty pleasures, sister.
Guilt isn’t all that pleasurable.

today’s iMix:
Last Goodbye—Jeff Buckley
Sir Duke—Stevie Wonder
Lights—Journey
Stay—DMB
All I Need—matchbox 20

RAN A MILE!!! Without stopping!!!
Alert the media, ladies and gentlemen. It is Wednesday, August 22, and Sarah Jenkins has run a mile, for the first time in months, in perhaps a year, and she has not died, and her lungs have not exploded, and she may not be able to kill her own mice, but she can run 5280 feet, and she is on top of the effing world!
Plus she’s reading a new novel that she likes very much, On Chesil Beach.
So. Who needs a man? I’ve got projects!

oh, are you a runner? 21 August 2007

Tuesday, August 21
8:30-8:55 a.m. run/walk
Mouse r.i.p. 9:10 a.m.
What a morning!
iPod mix:
I’m gonna find another you—john mayer
And it rained all night—Thom Yorke
Billie Jean—Michael Jackson (runrun!)
Meaning—Gavin DeGraw (boyballads=good)
Lovin Touchin Squeezin—Journey
September—Earth Wind and Fire
What would you say—DMB

Disturbing moment, jogging on Division before Cox north, past those tall bushes, there’s a man sleeping between them, head propped on a black duffle bag. And it makes me feel weird, here I am struggling to run a mile before going to work at my university job, and this man is struggling to get by at all. Sleeping outside by a highway, probably looking for some safety between some tall bushes.

Continue to run, push myself a little for the second 5 minutes, and enjoy how my legs look long and powerful in the reflection of parked cars as I pass.

Walking back to Wallace on new beautiful Calhoun sidewalk, start to freak out a tad about how many minutes 13 miles will be. 10 minute mile, 130 minutes…that’s like a long movie of running. That’s like more than a This American Life episode of running…and now I struggle to do 10 minutes? Is that possible??

Go back, ready to change my laundry into the dryer, and to my surprise someone else is doing laundry in the morning. A boy. When I’m washing underwear. Great. So I carry on awkward conversation…
“Doing some early a.m. laundry?”
“Yeah, well I had practice.”
“Oh, are you a runner?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m trying to be”
“It takes a while.”
“oh YEAH it does!” as she piles her underwear, and he reads.

Man vs. Beast: The Final Chapter 21 August 2007

Get back into my apt, and am making coffee for the a.m. (is caffeine bad for runners I wonder??) and notice the mousetrap behind the cookbooks is gone. “I smell trouble…” I say, “Or if I don’t, I will very soon!” thinking myself clever…go to the car for my flashlight and search all around the fridge and can’t find him “crafty little effer” I say…afraid now that I’m going to find the mouse in some unexpected place in the apartment. Go to grab a glass of water, look down in the sink, and there’s BIG mouse eyes staring at me.

He’s alive!! His arm is caught in the trap! He’s so tiny and cute! I immediately go into girl-mode “oh no!!!!! oh nooooo!” high pitched, squealy, half-laughing, half about to cry…and I think Forget this! I can’t do this on my own. Empowered and independent my ass! I wasn’t bargaining on him having a tiny broken little arm, when we’ve been through so much, and all he wanted to do was eat my Snickers, all industrious enough to escape from my humane trap, and even the not-humane one…almost.

So I do what any other independent woman would in my situation: call a boy. A boy I knew would be awake, and whose job it is to come to the rescue of many ridiculous situations like this one. I knew Kevin would be awake because of practice…so I call, still in hysterics.
He: “This is Kzim…”
Me: “(insert much high pitched freaking out here)”

So he comes over to help, screw driver in hand. Assesses the situation: his arm is broken, so we have a couple options…then he mimes what I will call bonking on the head. (LITTLE BUNNY FOO FOO! GOD!!!!!) And I’m like “okay…Are you okay with that?!” a little sorry that I’ve turned my co-worker into a murderer before noon on a Tuesday. He grabs the trap like it ain’t no thing, mouse hanging off, I unlock the door and let him out, “do you want the trap back?” NO! oh god. And I realize now my little mouse friend didn’t make a sound. He knew it was the end…and had pooped all up in my sink.

Oh his little tiny huge eyes. He was so tiny and cute! Seriously, like a little mouse baby. Like a mouse greeting card where he’s been photoshopped to look more friggen cute than God intended. Like Bambi’s little mouse friend who just wants to sing songs about springtime cute. Man!

So I hear a loud banging, and see Kevin carrying dead mouse by the tail, looking less cute and more like a dead rodent, and into the dumpster, and off to “hampster heaven” as he put it.

All I can say is, “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t in your job description…” oh man. What a way to start the day.

new shoes. new me. 19 August 2007

Sunday August 19
7:15-7:40 p.m. run/walk, and able to run about half of the 20 minutes. Stellar!
Credit to: new shoes? Newfound energy? Rainy weather? Slower pace?

iPod shuffle:
Skipped many today. Not your best work, iPod…
Deathly—Aimee Mann
Let Go—Frou Frou
I’m Every Woman—Chaka Kahn
Keep it loose, keep it tight—Amos Lee
Crush—Gavin Degraw
Shimmer—Fuel (yes, the mix is good. But I skipped about 20 songs)
My Favorite Accident—Motion City
Kiss the Girl—again, Little Mermaid.

Bought some new running shoes at Kohl’s today. They fulfill my wishes of being a fun color: purple with some gray and pink. On sale, stylin, comfortable. As advised by Kevin when I asked about shoes: about an extra ½ inch of toe room. Adidas (and Asics) are good for narrow feet. And the advice seemed to work, b/c this run was more successful. Gotta be the shoes. Running in the rain also nice.

Ha. If you follow the shoe link to Kohl’s website, it says “accented with pink and purple to keep your look ladylike.” Really, Kohl’s? Do they come with an apron, too?

The Mouse Saga: Episode 2 19 August 2007

As for Mousegate, oh the drama accelerates. Last week he managed to remove the Snickers from the humane trap without being caught. Today I came home to find that my mouse friend had outsmarted the humane mousetrap yet again. This time I discovered little shreds of plastic, and the trap dragged inches around the corner from its original location. I call mom, a little disturbed. Not sure if he’s in there and angry, or in there and dead from a tiny mouse heart attack, or in there at all. Kick it around, and there’s no noise or weight, pick it up and discover a tiny gnawed-in hole! Smaller than the size of a quarter, yet big enough for Houdini rat to escape. Wow. So I’m afraid he’s angry at me, but mom reminds me his mind is not that sophisticated. But if he’s smart enough to unshelf, unwrap, and enjoy a delectable dark chocolate snickers, and smart enough to escape from a friggen mousetrap, I figure this guy might be smarter than your average rodent.

Well this morning, after finding poop on and around my clean dishes, *ugh* I decided it was time to set the not-humane traps. The old school snap trap kind, whose instructions are cold and austere compared with its purpose:
1) Place bait in bait pedal. Pull back bow and hold down with thumb.
2) Engage locking bar on curved portion of bait pedal.
3) Place trap(s) with bait pedal facing wall.
They neglect to mention step 4: decapitate the rodent of your choice.

And as I’m using a spoon to scrape peanut butter into the crevices of the lever, I get really sad, and start apologizing OUT LOUD to the little guy for the fact that I have to kill him, and rationalizing that I don’t want diseases all over my cooking surfaces. I was genuinely affected by the process, and half afraid I’d smash my thumb. That would suck, too.

I don’t know how I’ll feel if the traps end up working. I’ve been told by both Heather B and Whitney that I will have a moment of entitlement and empowerment, which I hope is the case. But there’s something about killing another mammal that feels less like squishing a pest and more like murdering a comrade ☹ so sad…

actual crime scene photos

walk down memory lane 14 August 2007

Tues August 14
7:57-8:20 p.m. run/walk
iPod shuffle:
changing it up, this time all The Faint

Listening to the Faint while running w/my iPod brings back memories of the first time I ever ran with an iPod, when my boyfriend (another ex) had let me borrow his. I’d never heard The Faint before, and something about running with irreverent electronica in my ears made me feel powerful. This was back in early junior year when I was in luv and trying to be healthy and run with my boyfriend.

This was before he gave me mono, and focusing on my physical fitness took on a whole new meaning: like, not dying.

Ok there was that walk down memory lane! At least my walks down memory lane are the results of ACTUAL walks to places besides the refrigerator…

So what a difference just a few weeks makes. Tonight I ran in my grey shorts w/o thinking twice. I hate my legs with less fervor. Nay, I almost love them again.

Hugest news of all: Today I knew it was going to be hot, and wanted to wear some capris to work, but also knew that my dirty clothes were piling up, so I thought just for laughs I ought to try on some pants that I wore on my spring break ‘06 cruise. I pulled them out of the drawer, wrinkles deep from so much drawer time, and pulled them up, buttoned them over, and to my surprise the process didn’t hurt! Hallelujah they fit!! So I switch on my iHome, feeling I need to rock out in victory, and “Don’t stop believing” is the first song ready to go. That’s right Journey, I won’t stop believing. Miracles can happen, even when you aren’t really planning on them.

Oh man, I’m tired. And there’s a hollow spot in my brain where I feel like maybe I’m forgetting to write about something…but I can’t grasp it. Like the spot of reflected light on glass bowls that I used to try to grab, but wasn’t really there.