December 5, 2007 | Filed under: DC! DC! DC!, Good Things Come to Those Who Are Impatient Whiners

I just read Holly’s post and experienced some major flashbacks to the last time I flew to DC, when I wasn’t packed yet and the SuperShuttle guy showed up early and called me every five minutes to see if I was ready yet. Dude, if my phone would stop ringing every three seconds, I might actually manage to put something in my damn suitcase.

When I was ready, still within the 15 minute window of my pick-up time, but not by much, I turned off all the lights, grabbed my purse, laptop bag, and the handle of my suitcase and booked it to the front door.

Have I mentioned it was 3:30 in the morning? And therefore pitch dark in the house? It was.

I ran smack into the dining room wall, just inches from where the dining room opens into the living room, somehow hitting my head before (or perhaps simultaneously) ramming my knee into the same. I was going full force at this point and, I kid you not, I saw stars. Tears instantly sprang to my eyes, but I made myself pull it together and focus on what was important right now: the need to get out the door, pronto. The possibility that I’d just given myself a concussion was just going to have to wait.

I dashed out the front door in time to see the SuperShuttle pulling away as I locked the door behind me. For the second time in two minutes, I was nearly overcome by tears. As I pondered what to do, my phone rang. It was the shuttle driver, informing me that he was leaving to pick up the next customer and then he’d come back. Hmm, yes, nice of you to call after you’ve already left. Thanks for that.

Once my suitcase and I were safely on our way to the airport, under the cloak of darkness and the chatter of the other passengers, I gave in to the tears. The hellish morning, the nearly being left behind, the fact that my head and knee were still throbbing were all just a little too much for my stressed-out, three-hours-of-sleep self. I cursed everyone and everything but mostly I cursed the fact that I had to get on a plane and fly across the country to be in DC. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I’ve had these hellish mornings before. They almost always involve getting on a plane to DC. Godfuckingdamnit. None of this would happen if I just fucking lived there. No packing, no SuperShuttle, no frantic dash to the airport, no logistical contortions to cram as many people into my one-week calendar as possible, I could just get up in the morning and ALREADY BE THERE.

And this is why I relish the knowledge that on January 1, I’m going to get up in the morning and already be there, with no return flight planned.

October 5, 2007 | Filed under: DC! DC! DC!, Is She Still Talking?

A smattering of recent events.

It seemed like a good idea: The 6:00 AM flight to DC through Denver

Why it was not: We boarded the plane. Then the captain figured out the plane was broken. And then we sat while the maintenance crew attempted, several times, to fix the problem. They were unsuccessful. Eventually I got myself to DC, after 12 entire hours either in an airport or on a plane, but it was not pretty. And, yeah, the 6:05 AM flight to DC through Chicago took off without a hitch.

It seemed like a good idea: Unexpectedly crashing at a friend’s place Sunday night

Why it was not: The wine was good, the company was good, even if the football game sucked. Despite being conveniently located near work and making my morning run of The Mall easy, had I known I’d be getting ready for work Monday morning without the benefit of a hairdryer, I may have made a different decision. Those of you who saw me later in the day, hair in a ponytail — now you know why.

It seemed like a good idea: Grabbing a cup of coffee to consume on the walk to work

Why it was not: Um, hello? Have you ever tried to actually drink coffee while walking? It doesn’t work out so well. Particularly when one shoulder is tasked with carrying the laptop bag and purse, one hand is dragging a suitcase behind you and every other step results in coffee sloshing through the lid and down the leg of your pants. I’m just glad the suit was black.

It seemed like a good idea: Taking full advantage of the newly-installed steam shower

Why it was not: Nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever live up to that experience. I may never shower again.

It seemed like a good idea: Signing up for Sunday’s half marathon

Why it was not: Four weeks of sleep deprivation combined with two cross-country plane rides was bound to make me sick. This final week of training was … well, non-existent.

It seemed like a good idea: After days of toughing it out, finally taking some damn cold meds Friday morning

Why it was not: I grabbed nighttime cold medicine, not daytime, which I figured out when I nearly fell asleep on my commute to work and spent the next several hours wanting nothing more than to curl up under my desk and take a nap. I am no match for diphenhydramine. Never before have I wished for narcotics to get out of my system so quickly.

It seemed like a good idea: Giving my heart away for the eleventy billionth time

Why it was not: Hope springs eternal, right? And for years, YEARS now, no matter how bad things get, nor how ugly our last interaction was, I convince myself that everything will work out perfectly. I rarely see you, I haven’t been to your place in quite a while — for good reason, I understand, but still, it exacerbates the distance between us. I believe in you; I believe in us. And yet, time after time, my heart gets broken. Some years it happens in May, sometimes in August, sometimes — like this year — in October. Dammit, Brewers, why you gotta be like that?

July 26, 2007 | Filed under: DC! DC! DC!, Is She Still Talking?

Some days I long for my previous inside-the-Beltway existence. Usually this happens while watching Meet the Press or seeing footage of DC in a movie or TV show, but today it’s because of The Hill’s time-honored tradition of showcasing the 50 Most Beautiful People.

(Apparently this time-honored tradition has only existed for the last few years, which that means I’m familiar with, um, all of the lists ever published. *hangs head in shame* And yet, I don’t read People magazine. Hmm.)

So, while I’m busy figuring out how to tell you about the excitement that has been my life for the last week, go pick me out a boyfriend. And, see if you can figure out who my top choice is. Age, race and party affiliation make no difference. Nor does “dating status” for that matter; I’m prettier than their current girlfriend/wife anyway. I’ll even throw in a prize for the first person to correctly identify my chosen suitor. (Sorry, Lori, you’re not eligible.)

Have fun!

April 23, 2007 | Filed under: DC! DC! DC!, I Run Therefore I Am

Well, this Tuesday-only posting schedule certainly seems to have taken hold. Sorry. Once again, I’m going to attempt to enforce some standards around here. Rules like no shoes on the couch and no eating after 8 pm and please, for the love of all that is holy, post more than once a week! (I’ve already broken two of those rules tonight, so, uh, we’ll see how well this goes.)

I realized yesterday that I’ve turned into a bit of a travel snob. Frankly, I’m surprised it took this long, but it has. Checking in for my flight late Saturday night, my seat selections (which United did not allow me to make when I booked the ticket, despite my repeated inquiries) were middle, middle, middle, middle, or that middle seat over there. Argh. When I noticed that there were some lovely window seats available up in the “United Plus” portion of the plane, I succumbed. I paid $44 — of my own money, not work’s — for the privelige of sitting in the 9th row, in a window seat, with enough leg room to cross and uncross my legs if I so desired. Sigh. I have to say, though, that for the 4 1/2 hour flight from Chicago to Sacramento, it was worth every penny. (The deal I made with myself was that I was not allowed to sleep on this flight. If I’m going to pay for the extra room, then by god, I’m going to be awake to enjoy it. Also, I wanted to be able to fall asleep at a reasonable hour once I got home.)

The flight itself was remarkably less eventful than actually getting to the airport had been — it took me an hour and 15 minutes to get to the airport — 5.5 miles away. I started having heart palpitations at the thought that I might very well miss my flight. People, I could have run to the airport faster. I know, because I did it Saturday morning.

Yes, I ran from Courthouse, to the Mount Vernon Trail along the Potomac, and past most of the airport. I followed the trail to the Shops at Crystal City, decided I hadn’t gone far enough, so I doubled back and kept running to the far eastern entrance to National before turning around and heading back home. It was, ballpark, 12 miles in 2 hours and 18 minutes, the last mile of which was entirely uphill and into the wind. HATE.

I have to say, for as much as I love DC and appreciate the National Park Service, this trail is not marked worth crap. On the stretch I ran, there were only three mileposts actually marked, leaving me to guess how far I was running for most of the day. And, either I was running fast or somebody measured wrong, because according to my watch, I ran a particular one-mile stretch in 11 minutes, and that was around my eighth mile of the day, so I have a hard time believing that I was making that good of time. Also, can we all please agree on which side of the trail bikes belong on and which side of the trail runners belong on? Because in Sacramento I was yelled at — YELLED AT — by a biker for running on the right side of the trail, in the same direction as bike traffic. In DC I noticed that most people, but not all, were running on the right side of the trail, but I steadfastly clung to the left edge of the pavement. Right up until a guy on a bike told me (much more politely than Mr. American River Parkway) that I should be running on the right side of the trail. Argh! I’m happy to be a law-abiding citizen (and even happier to avoid being run over by anyone in brightly colored spandex zipping along on their bicycle), but damn it, it’s hard to follow the rules when (a) they’re not posted anywhere and (b) they vary by location. Is there not some Supreme Ruler of the Running Universe who can issue an edict that all runners are to be in x location and all bikers shall be in y location? Is it really that complicated?

Anyway. Saturday was my longest run. Ever. I now feel sufficiently prepared for the half marathon, except for the part about feeling completely unprepared to do any of it. I’m still undecided about the whole gel/not to gel thing. Really, if I were to use gels, I should’ve practiced with them this weekend, but I didn’t. On the other hand, I was definitely hurting that last mile, so perhaps a little energy boost would be a good thing. On the third hand, I have a feeling that my pre-race preparation will not involve two happy hours and five drinks on the night before the race, so perhaps I’ll be in better shape in a couple weeks than I was Saturday. Decisions, decisions!

And, in a display of how colossally insane I have become: I haven’t even run my first half and I’m looking around for the next one. I know there’s another local race two weeks after mine, but I’m not sure I’ll be up for it quite yet. But by June…it’s entirely possible. Thankfully, I’ve managed to get myself on a mailing list somehow and every sponsor of a May or June race in Northern California has sent me an invitation to join them, so I should have plenty to choose from.

Finally, I cannot help but point out that Internet Rockstar Sundry left a comment on one of my previous running posts and I am just so excited that I may be SQUEEEing a little bit and perhaps I don’t need those gels after all, if I can just harness all that excitement and turn it into energy for finishing the last couple miles of the race. If you don’t read her (many, many) blogs already, you should. They are entertaining and informative and full of pretty pictures. And she’s a much better writer (and more consistent poster) than I am. Go!

April 19, 2007 | Filed under: Boys Are Dumb, DC! DC! DC!, I Write About My Feelings

Oy. I’ve been trying to find a way to describe my attitude today, but haven’t stumbled on quite the right sentiment yet. It’s something like this, combined with a healthy dose of this. Plus a heaping scoop of “none of this should really surprise me anymore” cynicism. Maybe this does my attitude justice.

They say bad things happen in threes, and I’ve got a streak of 2-in-24-hours going, so let’s go, Universe, bring on that last one, please, I don’t feel like waiting around until next week.

(This seems to be quite the trend, doesn’t it? Go to DC, watch life take a quick turn toward the shitter. It’s a magical city, I tell you. Fucking magical.)

Anyway… Happy thoughts! Work’s great, they all love me, I managed to put out some fires this week that needed dealing with, yada yada yada. Also, I’m having a fabulous time on the social circuit, and can’t wait for tonight’s fun. (Ladies, I’m happier in person, I swear!) And I feel like a real human being today, as opposed to the embalmed-with-vodka thing I had going on yesterday, so things are off to a great start today. We’ll see how long that lasts…