Today is a big day in my life for several reasons. It’s the day eight years ago that I met my now ex-husband and my life changed forever. It’s the first day of my favorite month of the year. And it’s also the day I stop to think about my friend Kathy, who has now been dead for more than 10 years.

She died far too young of ovarian cancer. Crushing. Unfair. Stupid. And what a loss she left.

Kathy immigrated to the United States at a fairly young age. But not before she work for Nelson Mandela in her native country. She was wickedly smart. She was funny and generous. She taught me that you don’t have to clean your house before you have people over if you light a lot of candles and turn the lights down. You also don’t really have to feed them much as long as you have good wine. And above all she taught me that you could talk about anything as long as you were smart. No fake humility, no dumbing it down. Tell it like it is and show off your smarts. 

Kathy was also one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met in my life. She was often mistaken for  Nicole Kidman even though she was South African not Australian.  She could wear a ratty old T-shirt and jeans and still have men stop to look at her.   I was once at a wedding with her where a Frenchman saw her from across the room at a seated dinner and moved his place card to our table insisting that we were the only table of nine at the entire wedding. He had to sit and speak with her. Of course she spoke fluent French and very nearly went home without him that night. I’m still thankful she didn’t because she was my roommate that night but she had men fall at her feet wherever she went. 

 I could go on. She loved to shop at  thrift stores, read feverishly, devoured politics, but above all else she adored her daughter.   She changed her entire life for her daughter. This great, brilliant, charming beauty stayed single for more than a decade because she didn’t want to confuse her daughter and introduce a man into her life if he wasn’t good enough. She had loves, of course. But she never left her daughter to go on dates and  put her beautiful girl at the center of her world 

There’s a Pearl Jam song called Just Breathe. When Kathy was dying and on the day of her funeral and memorial, I heard that song over and over.   Of course I heard it on the radio today. It was a bright and beautiful day and I was so full of joy, and I heard that song and I could picture walking out of her memorial service and sobbing. And I started sobbing in the car just like I did that day more than 10 years ago. I wish she was here today, because I knew she would give me great advice about being a mom to an only child, beautiful, smart daughter.  She would talk to me I’m doing in my dating/sex life probably with some girly and probably with some caution. She would ask me why I’m not taking better care of myself, my mind and my body. And she would give me a great glass of wine and asked me what I’ve read. 

I miss you, my friend. I will let Pearl Jam say the rest. 

Nothing you would take
Everything you gave
Hold me 'till I die
Meet you on the other side

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=E5bAawsa7_s

Cássiópeia and Commitments

Today was a good day until 5 pm. But being a Monday, after 5 pm people who should know better didn’t. And in both cases it affected my daughter and me, by proxy.

One of the situations is in my control, but involves a tough decision. The other is not and will never be something I can control. A wise friend listened to my story and told me to breathe and look at the stars, which is what I am doing now.

I find myself visiting with Cassiopeia. An old friend in the autumn sky. And a perfect way to celebrate the first day of fall - my favorite season.

I stepped outside and just as it did when I was 10 or 12, the darkness wraps around me.  I hear crickets singing their last sad song of summer.  I instantly recall my dad taking me outside after dinner and teaching me about Cássiópeia. We stood next to our garage on the top of our big hill and he pointed to a W in the sky. Easy to spot, right over our heads.

I felt bonded to this constellation with her proud W, just like my last name. And my dad then told me the story of Cassiopeia. The queen with unrivaled beauty. What stuck with me was that she was seated. The W was her chair, in effect. At the time I thought it was nice she got to relax in the sky.  And I kept that child’s view until tonight.

Cássiópeia was probably tired. Tired of helping other people. Tired of being beautiful and all that entails. And tired of taking the high road while other people didn’t live up to their commitments.

Yet she sat there - as she does tonight some 40 years later - just as beautiful and circumspect as a queen should be. Reminding me of happy days with my dad. Reminding me to keep my mouth shut and just make the change, not talk about it.  Reminding me to be grateful for a friend’s thoughtful advice (and the friendship). And reminding me that no matter how tired you get, you can always look up and find beauty.

Tangled up in Blue

Every time I hear the Bob Dylan song Tangled up in Blue playing on the radio, I stop and take notice. This song has followed me my entire adult life with phrases from it predicting or recapping portions of my life.  My own personal Nostradamus.

It mostly has to do with my love life.  I dated - and nearly married - someone who lived on Montague Street.  I have been with someone who started in dealing in "slaves" (investment banking is close enough), and something inside of him died.  I dated someone who's Papa's bank book wasn't big enough.  I dated - and nearly married (different person) - someone who worked on a fishing boat and he also worked as a cook for a spell.  And now, as I deal with the effects of divorce, I know that: we always did feel the same, we just saw it from a different point of view.

I came to know and love this song from a mix tape made for me in an apartment in Paris by a boy my friend and I knew from home.  I say a boy, although at 19 - 20, he had set up an elaborate pot-dealing empire in a foreign country so I'm not entirely sure he was immature.  One night he made us a mix tape that included Tangled up in Blue and many other amazing songs.  My girlfriend and I carried it with us, in our Walkmen and our backpacks all over Europe that summer.  On trains, in hostels, and finally home.  It was called 315AP after the code you needed to access the boy's apartment.  Since I had bought the actual tape, I retained possession when we got home.  Next weekend, I'll see that same friend, and I couldn't help text her today when I heard the song on the radio.  Her response: of course and see you soon. 

Lord knows I've paid some dues getting through, but honestly, I don't know what this next chapter of life holds.  Divorce, solo parent, new home, business owner.  I think I'll just trust in the song like I always have and know the only thing I [know] how to do [is] to keep on keepin' on .... Tangled up in blue.

https://www.google.com/search?client=firefox-b-1-d&q=tangled+up+in+blue+lyrics

Listening to my legs

I am dedicating this post to Mikey, my running yogi.  I was going to say running coach, but that would imply that we've actually run in each other's presence.  I really only talk with him about running and read his blog.  He's just too damn fast for me to run with.

A few things to note before I get into the full point of my story.  First of all, I have never considered myself a runner. This is despite the fact that I have run for fun, in races, or for team sports my entire life.  I ran cross country in middle school and early high school, played varsity sports my whole academic career, and have finished several marathons, half-marathons and plenty of 5ks. And yet, I never thought I was a true runner. You know, one of those people who don't think a day is complete without a jog, those wiry types who wins races.

Part of the reason behind this could be that I'm extremely slow when I run.  And this could be because I'm both overweight and have asthma (I don't know what my excuse was when I was thin and didn't have asthma, but let's just overlook that minor detail).  I also have herniated disks in my back and have been told that running is not a good idea, especially long distances, which is what I prefer to do. At one point in my running career, I even switched to race walking to reduce the impact on my back and still be able to go longer distances.  And no self-respecting runner would ever do the waddle walk when a perfectly good run could be had.

So there you have it. I'm not a runner. And yet ... I find myself more and more loving running.  About a year-and-a-half ago, when I was training for a race, I had a series of dreams where I was out for a mid-afternoon jog. The sunlight was coming through the trees, the path was wide and flat in front of me, and I was happy as could be in each dream.  I would wake up and really want to go for a run. And funny thing is, I had a great time doing it.  When I didn't get a run in for whatever reason during that time, I felt a little itchy and would get out as soon as I could.

Fast forward to this year, when I fell and broke a bone in my leg and spent several months not running or half-running/walking with rehab thrown in.  I felt like a lard (and was) and could feel my asthma in every day activities. But the worst part was that I wasn't right in my head.  I wasn't happy that I couldn't go out for a trot without pain.  I wasn't spending quality time with my dog either. It was just bad.  It dawned on me, perhaps, I actually am a runner.

So what does this have to do with listening to my legs?  Now that I've been given clearance to run again, I've signed up for a half marathon.  As I've been running, I've been feeling my asthma in a bad way and every hill I hit is like a slap in the face (well, really the lungs).  On multiple occasions, I've stopped to walk up a hill simply because I couldn't get a complete breath and my lungs burned.  At those moments, I would hear that nagging, negative voice creep in that maybe I'm not a runner after all. I'm too slow, I stop to walk too easily, I don't have the will power to get through the pain.  (Anyone with asthma will understand this is not always an option, but tell that to the voice in my head.)

Gloriously, today, I had a breakthrough. Today, I decided to just run slowly. The whole time.  And I decided that rather listen to my lungs, which often tell me to stop, I would listen to my legs, which are the things that move me forward and very rarely hurt.  So today, I just hit every uphill stretch very slowly, evenly pacing myself on the downhills as well.  My lungs didn't hurt once.  It was pouring rain, the dog was at my side, and I don't think I've had a better run in months.  Best of all, I shaved 3 minutes off my normal time for this particular route (a minute a mile) because I didn't walk and felt the high at the end of my run that I only usually get after longer ones.

So from now on, I will be listening to my legs.  I'll keep telling myself that slow and steady wins the race. Why? Because I am a runner.

A belated post, Mikey

As I was walking this morning, I was struck by the number of American flags flying in front of people's houses. Arlington is a fairly patriotic part of Virginia, but today it seemed even more so. I wondered if it had to do with the impending tenth anniversary of 9/11. Or perhaps, in a more uplifting way, it was in anticipation of the dedication of the long-overdue Martin Luther King memorial on the Mall.

Lost in thoughts like this, I next heard the sound of one of these flags snapping in the wind, and the word freedom immediately came to mind. An instant association.  I wondered if the sound conjured up the word freedom because that's my basic association with our flag. Then I thought about it more and realized that the sound is exactly that of a sail luffing and puffing.

To me, there are few places on earth where I feel more free than in a boat on the water. Put together, though, the sound of the flag and its true beauty and meaning, I think it's fair to say that I only have that deep sense of freedom out on the water because I live in the country I do.

And for that, I'm very grateful.

A re-trend?

For the last several months and maybe for the last year even, I have noticed a growing trend in Arlington.  It involves people walking down the street while reading books. These people do not walk very fast, typically, but they also never look up from their books, even when passing another person on the sidewalk.  They appear to be totally engrossed.

I am used to seeing people read to the exclusion of everything around them on the subway, but not on the sidewalk.  So I have been wondering what has prompted the rise in sidewalk readers. 

From my observations, the readers are typically young and typically male, although I have spotted a handful of female sidewalk readers. This fact - that they are generally young - leads me to believe that this is not a trend that has much to do with books in and of themselves, but rather something more to do with the fact that we have programmed the next generation to always be engaged in something even while doing basic tasks.  Something along the lines of ... if they can't have their device doing something, then they will enjoy something as 1990 as a book (1990 being the last time you could safely say books were "in").

With a little research, I've found that there is help for the novice sidewalk reader.  Wikihow has instructions on how to read while walking. People have chimed in on Yelp about it, and there is even a Reading While Walking page on Facebook.

Clearly, I'm fascinated with this trend and have questions.  Are the readers really absorbing what they read or is it more of a post-modernist statement?  Do they mean to shut the world out while they walk and if so, why not just wear ear buds and an iPod?  Speaking of iPods, why not just get the book on "tape" via an MP3 player?  And more curious, given the ages of the readers, do they not have iPads? I thought everyone younger than me has an iPad.

One thing I can be certain of, I will not be joining this trend.  For no other reason than I would likely be a statistic and the first person killed reading while walking.  Now reading on the subway, that's a whole other story.

Press Release: 2011 Turtle Trot 5k and Free Family-Friendly Turtle-Themed Events, Saturday, May 21

Arlington County's Department of Parks, Recreation and Cultural Resources is hosting the first-ever Turtle Trot 5k race on Saturday, May 21, at South Bluemont Park (601 North Manchester Street, North 4th Street Entrance, Arlington, VA 22203). This is a chip-timed, certified 5k race to support Arlington’s turtle and wildlife rehabilitation and education programs.

Advanced registration for the 2011 Turtle Trot takes place via www.Active.com. Registration fees are $30 for adults and $15 for kids 12 and under. (Registration fee reductions are available to qualified individuals; call 703-525-0168.) Check-in and day-of registration for the race starts at 9 a.m. at the Lower Bluemont picnic shelter accessible from the North 4th Street entrance near the soccer fields off of Manchester Street. The race starts at 10 a.m. For more information, visit:
http://www.arlingtonva.us/departments/ParksRecreation/scripts/nature/TurtleTrot5K.aspx.

The Turtle Trot also includes a number of free events at the picnic shelter from 10:30 a.m. through 1 p.m. Watch an actual turtle race, take part in making turtle crafts, play turtle-themed games, jump on the moon bounce or have your face painted. Naturalists will also be on hand to answer your questions about Arlington’s turtles.

The 2011 Turtle Trot is sponsored by the Arlington County Department of Parks, Recreation and Cultural Resources (PRCR). The 2011 Turtle Trot 5k also enjoys generous support and prize give-aways from local merchants, including Chick-fil-A, Arlington Community Federal Credit Union, Shirlington Self Storage, Mr. Wash Car Wash, and Kinder Haus Toys.