Update: Low, tired, vegan-on-the-road, diet. Pause.

1. Low. In the past week, a couple of situations with my advisor have left me feeling crushed, frustrated, and stupid. Based on what I've heard from other people about the final years of a Ph.D. program, this is par for the course. But it sucks.

I love what I do so much, and yet it feels like such an uphill battle because subtle sexism is rampant. Moreover, many of these men don't even know they're doing it, so it's tough for them to recognize the problem, much less change their communication tactics.

I don't want to be treated like a little girl. I don't want condescending lectures about stuff I already know and know well. I am GOOD at what I do - in the field, in the lab, AND in the classroom. I have something to offer! All I want is to be able to contribute to my scientific community and share my passion for science with my student collaborators. I don't want to live in fear that I won't be able to do what I love simply because I don't speak in the same "language" as many of my counterparts. As stated in a Scientific American article published late last year:

"Scientific inquiry is surely at stake, said Mary Anne Holmes, a mineralogist at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and former president of the Association for Women Geoscientists. "Women may have a different way of asking questions about the science and communicating the consequences," Holmes said.

Studies have shown that groups make better choices when group members have diverse experiences and points of view, Holmes noted. It's not that women look at the data and see some big feminine question that's not being asked or that men don't ask good questions, she added. Men "just don't ask all the questions."

And it's funny how, when I start talking about this stuff around my male colleagues, I see a lot of eye rolling. Their perspective on this is different, and I end up feeling like a whiner.

2. Tired. I slept all day. This last work trip was an exhausting one: we were pulling long shifts, some of which went through the night. I felt fine while I was there, but as soon as I took my seat on the flight home yesterday, I felt like I'd been hit with a brick. I still do.

3. I'm going to write a post about my attempts at vegan living on the road. The upshot of it is that although I could have done it, I broke down when I discovered a well-stocked candy drawer during my midnight lab sessions. Fun-size Milky Ways taste so. damn. good. when you're exhausted and bored. And once the sugar hit my system, it was allllll over. I singlehandedly decimated that candy supply.

4. Diet. I tracked my calories until right around the time I started inhaling chocolate. Then I decided to "take a break." I'm confident I can get back on track now that I'm home.

5. Press pause. Can I do that right now? Press pause on life and take a time out? Preferably on a sunny beach with an alcoholic beverage? I'd like to.

Home Again; Vegan Challenge, Days 1 and 2

I'm home, I'm home! I'm so happy to be home. This trip to California felt really long, even though it was similar in length to other trips I've taken. While I did appreciate the opportunity to gather some much-needed data for my dissertation research, and while I definitely appreciated the opportunity to hang out in such a lovely place, it seemed like I was gone for a month, not 12 days.

Overall, it was a good trip. I never felt overly lonely, and I was able to go out, run, and enjoy the fresh air quite often. I also indulged in activities that are more difficult when I'm home with an active five-year-old - namely, eating dinner in bed while watching Sister Wives and Catfish uninterrupted. There's something to be said for that.

But I missed my little man, and my husband, and now that I'm back, our holiday can actually start. 

*  *  *

I'm on Day 3 of the 30 Day Vegan Challenge. So far, so good. Days 1 and 2 involved some creative meal planning using food from the motel's free breakfast (coffee, juice, cereal, granola bars), quick-cook meals from Trader Joe's, and a pomelo that took me approximately 24 minutes to peel (I was feeling ambitious and adventurous with that one; in the end, it tasted okay).

Something I've learned so far: I do not like soy yogurt. At all. Too gluey, and it tastes like... pasty beans. Not my thing. But this heat-and-serve rice noodle soup with edamame crackers was easy and yummy.

The highlight of Day 2 was a stop at the Mariposa Baking Company in San Francisco's Ferry Building. MBC makes entirely gluten-free breads and goodies. It was on the way to the airport, so I got off the BART at Embarcadero, indulged, and then headed to SFO with a full, happy belly.

Drool, drool, drool:

Everything was gluten free, of course, but a lot of it was also vegan. For lunch, I ordered the vegan empanadas with a side salad (complete with GF croutons):

PERFECTION. The curry filling consisted of potatoes, tomatoes, and Indian spices:

And... I also splurged on a carton of Penguinos, which are akin to (and probably inspired by) the cream-filled Hostess chocolate cupcakes - but even more moist and delicious. 

*  *  *

Plans for the day include:

-Continuing to lay around in my pajamas

-Going downtown to select our yearly family ornaments (we pick a couple nice ones for Christmas every year)

-Doing laundry. Maybe.

-Resting my knee, which was SUPER sore on the plane yesterday. It felt fine when I did my pre-flight run in Berkeley in the morning, but by the third leg of the flight, it ached a lot.

Things I love about running: continuity

One thing I love about running is that it keeps me centered when I travel. Running gives me a sense of continuity when everything else - the climate, the food, the atmosphere, the people I'm around - is different from what I experience in my everyday life.  

I've been traveling a lot lately: several days per month on average. The trips are necessary and beneficial from a professional point of view, but they can be difficult because sometimes being away from home makes me feel like I'm losing my connection to myself. My brain starts getting kind of fragmented. The worst case of that occurred during a work trip last June; when I came home, I felt so depressed and out of it that I spent a week in bed. I don't want that to happen again.

Running helps. Wherever I am, I can put on my Asics, head out the door, and physically/mentally feel just as I do when I run at home or anywhere else. I am so grateful for that. I do not know what I'd do on these trips if I weren't a runner.

Here in Berkeley, I ran 6 miles yesterday and 7 miles today. I loved how the damp, drizzly air felt as I breathed it in, and how the bay looked from the hills above the university. I loved how the leaves on some of the maple trees are still a brilliant red. I loved seeing so many people out walking, biking, and running on a weekend morning. Running has been one of my favorite things to do here and a great way to see the city.

 Berkeley Hills

I love the neighborhoods here. I love how the houses are all so unique and how the trees are so grown.

Inadequate words on a tragic day

Today a young man shot and killed 20 elementary school students. Little kids. The same age as my son. Of all the horrible acts of violence that have happened in the last few years, I think this is the one I understand the least. It makes my brain reel. I was doing all sorts of things today, and doing them sufficiently well I guess, but my mind was half somewhere else. 

*   *   *

It was one of those days where, when I looked at someone else walking down the street, and he or she looked back, there was an immediate connection, an understanding, because we were reminded of our common bond as human beings. 

*   *   *

I believe that there's no such thing as "evil." I think that when we label someone else as evil, we do two things: we make them the "other," someone who has little to nothing common with us; and we strip them of a certain level of basic responsibility. After all, the purpose of Evil is... to be evil. "Evil" seems like this force that comes from outside the human realm, something we can't extinguish. But the truth is that normal, everyday people - people like me and like you - can do truly horrible, unspeakable things. They aren't monsters. Their purpose in life was not to create suffering, but those are the acts they chose for whatever reason (abuse in their own life, trauma, mental illness), and in turn they pass on their suffering to others.

I could talk about gun control (I have strong feelings about that) and I could talk about the importance of mental health support (strong feelings about that too), but ultimately, what's wrong here is much deeper than that. 

*   *   *
"If we are not happy, if we are not peaceful, we cannot share peace and happiness with others, even those we love, those who live under the same roof. If we are peaceful, if we are happy, we can smile and blossom like a flower, and everyone in our family, our entire society, will benefit from our peace." - Thich Nhat Hanh

Defunct pier, Berkeley marina

"No-one got the instructions. That is the secret of life. Everyone is flailing around, winging it most of the time, trying to find the way out, or through, or up, without a map. This lack of instruction manual is how most people develop compassion, and how they figure out to show up, care, help and serve, as the only way of filling up and being free. Otherwise you grow up to be someone who needs to dominate and shame others so no one will know that you weren't there the day the instructions were passed out.” - Anne Lamott

End of the pier, Berkeley marina

San Francisco Bay

Daydreaming, Part 2: Adventure

One time, I sailed as a deckhand from England to the Canary Islands on a tall ship. It took about a month, and we had to cross the Bay of Biscay, otherwise known as the "Bay of Sickbay" because of its stomach-lurching effects.

It was a really amazing trip - one of the biggest adventures I'll ever have, I'm sure. Things I best remember: drinking hot chocolate on the deck at midnight when I wasn't on watch, the brightness and density of the stars over the pitch black ocean, getting chased down the hall by a misplaced vacuum cleaner during a gale-force storm (one of two we experienced), getting hit so hard by a wave during the middle of the night that the water rushed into my Wellies and soaked everything I was wearing, learning to tie knots and stow rope, climbing up to the top of the main mast (terrifying), the weird things the British cook made us for breakfast and dinner.

It was pretty fantastic. I think I was happy and focused for 99.99% of that trip. Except that one time when the first mate yelled at me for not tying up a tarp as taut as it needed to be. Oh, and the time the cook made us eat hard-boiled eggs wrapped in stuffing and cornflakes. That was weird.

I love what I am doing now because I still get to have adventures. I get to spend time in the middle of nowhere and hike around for days on end. I get to travel. Sometimes I get to see places that I couldn't see as a tourist, simply because my studies give me a kind of "all access pass." I get to eat food cooked over a campfire. Every now and then I do things that don't seem very safe at all, which I both hate and love. Usually, at least one odd and unsettling (but ultimately harmless) thing happens on every adventure, and it makes for a good story later on.

And then I get to come home, be a mom, hang out with my kid and husband, go to school, work out, clean my house, go to the grocery store, fret over the balance in the checking account, and make dinner. All that is an adventure, too.

What are some of the adventurous things you do, either in your everyday life or once in a blue moon? What are the things that make your life awesome, that give you meaning, purpose, memories, adrenaline?

By the numbers

2: number of scoops of ice cream I ate last night (coffee + effervescent cherry sorbet)

4: number of additional ice cream samples the lady behind the counter "made" me try (dark chocolate peppermint, sweet potato and marshmallow, bourbon maple, and something with beer). I roughed it out and licked those sample spoons clean.

9: miles ran/jogged this weekend

3: fitness class torture-fests I took part in last week

1: completed application submitted

1.5: glasses of wine consumed today

5: clementine oranges going in my lunch bag for tomorrow

3: average number of times I run the dryer before my husband gets annoyed and folds the clothes himself

1: free cup of coffee I'm getting tomorrow by bringing in my empty coffee bag

4: days until my next trip

12: days I'm going to be away from home (booooo)

1: cheap snow globe that was dropped and shattered over the weekend

1000000: bits of smashed snow globe glass

7: gluten-free pancakes eaten by five-year-old this morning

This marathon brought to you by NEON

The marathon is on Sunday.

It's Wednesday night. 

This tapering is making me crazy!

I wish I could run it tomorrow - not because I want to get it over with but because I am just so darn excited about this thing. I may not feel that way at mile 22, of course, but I'm pumped about the challenge. Plus, I really want to run. It's weird to go from doing weeks of 40-50 miles to weeks of ~10-15 miles.

This is the Space Coast Marathon, so RF and I have decided to go with a neon theme. Because, you know. Space = aliens. Aliens = neon. Or something. For whatever reason, the neon seems entirely appropriate.

My running outfit is all planned out:

Neon yellow socks.

Bright pink sleeves for the first few miles when it's cold (this thing starts at 6:15 a.m.! I'm going to freeze.)

Neon yellow and pink shirt, which we plan to decorate with neon pink duct tape.

Neon headband.

Neon fingernail polish.

Oh, and shorts. They're not shown here, but not because I plan on running pantless. They're pretty understated and nondescript compared to everything else. I wish I could do more of a costume-type thing, but I've never tried that before, even for a short run. So that'll have to wait until I'm more marathon-savvy.

Now that that's all planned out, I can go back to watching Honey Boo Boo and twiddling my thumbs.

AHHHHH!

Is it normal to feel like a Chihuahua on crack three days out from a marathon? 

Re-establishing the gluten-free habit

I got glutened this past weekend during a camping trip for a class that I'm teaching. Or rather, I glutened myself, which is a much more accurate way of putting it. And I have felt unwell ever since.

We were in a rural area with few food options. We made a delicious, GF (gluten free) camp meal the night we arrived, but I'd forgotten to bring lunch or any truly substantial snacks for the next day. We got up early and drove from stop to stop, and I quickly felt my stomach begin to gnaw on itself. I had an apple handy, and a Larabar, but these were no match for the bottomless, insatiable pit that is my stomach.

By lunchtime I was beginning to feel dizzy and cranky. I could feel the hangriness coming on. So when we stopped at McDonald's (don't ask, not my choice but the only restaurant option where we were), I threw caution to the wind and ordered a snack wrap, fries, and a soda.

Thing is, I've started to wonder recently just how intolerant I actually am to gluten. I've never been officially tested for Celiac disease. After three years of following a GF lifestyle, I've been thinking that perhaps I made the whole thing up just to ride along on the now-crowded GF bandwagon. And I decided to test that hypothesis at a notoriously unhealthy fast food joint... while hundreds of miles from home... during a trip where I was responsible for driving and relaying information to 20 students.

Did I mention that I washed down my lunch with a pack of peanut M&Ms?

Clearly it wasn't just the gluten - McD's is probably tough on even the hardiest stomachs - but I now recall WHY I went GF in the first place. Part of it is the whole bathroom situation. It's partly the really odd, inappropriate gurgling sounds reverberating throughout my belly. Part of it is the fatigue. But another big part - the part I'd completely forgotten - is the feeling that my abdomen is swollen. It's like my insides are sore and inflamed. It's unnerving, and it can last for several days.

I haven't been eating all that well for about a month now. Training for a marathon means that I am hungry all the time, and I've been traveling a lot, which means that I've relied fairly heavily on high-sodium restaurant food and "healthy" snacks from gas stations and airport kiosks. Seeing friends whom I haven't seen in a long time at conferences means that occasionally I've consumed more alcohol than I normally would. So even without the gluten, my digestive system has been suffering. This was just the final blow.

But I'm back on the GF track now, and I'm going to be very careful - especially in these weeks before the marathon - to eat what I know my body likes. Also, I'm going to have to be more diligent about preparing myself for situations where healthy food options might not be readily at hand.

*  *  *  *  *
Tonight my son and I made brownies for his school's bake sale tomorrow. They're gluten free, dairy free, and oil free, and based on the little nibble I had, they're pretty darn good. I hope they sell.

*  *  *  *  *
The marathon is a week from Sunday! I'm so excited. As the event approaches, I'm sure I'll also feel a bit nervous. But mainly I am looking forward to being in Florida with my family and tackling this challenge with my friend.

Running as a way to mitigate depression and anxiety?

I've been away - not at the loony bin (though sometimes it's certainly a distinct possibility), but at a professional conference. Actually, wait. This professional conference IS like a loony bin, except that few of the people there actually recognize they have issues and the majority of them don't see psychiatrists. Same issues, less recognition. Always interesting.

Anyway, so first I was preparing for this conference (in the form of putting together a talk, which took a ridiculous amount of time and which put a spotlight on my poor graphic design/PowerPoint skills), and then I was at the conference, and then I was drinking and eating and giving my talk and reuiniting with people I hadn't seen in a while. And drinking more. 

Very little running was involved, unfortunately. I mean, I DID run, but they were relatively short workouts on the hotel treadmill. I should have run 18 miles on Sunday and it just didn't happen. Good thing I am in taper mode, since the marathon is in only 2.5 weeks away. I'm thinking of doing 18 miles this Sunday even though I suppose Hal Higdon would not approve. But would it really pose that much of a problem? I have two weeks after that to rest.

Speaking of running...

The last conference I went to was last June, and for whatever reason, it left me reeling and depressed. I don't know whether it was the stress of traveling, dealing with huge crowds of people, being away from my family, or what, but all of a sudden I went from feeling really stable (for the previous 4-5 months) to hitting bottom again. The situation was not good. At one point I wondered whether I might need to check myself into a hospital. The trigger seemed to be this academic conference experience. Thus, I was concerned that this very recent conference - which involved just as many people, almost as much traveling, and a strong dose of stress - might send me reeling down the same path.

Thankfully, it did not. I've been trying to figure out what the difference was between now and last June.

Things that are the same: I'm still taking an antidepressant, same dose. I'm still seeing my therapist every other week or so (actually less these days). Actually, if anything, the summer conference should have been less stressful: I wasn't teaching any classes at that point. I had to present at both meetings.

So what is different? The only major difference is that I'm now training for a marathon and attending butt-kicking barre classes on a regular basis. So could the extra exercise be at the root of this newfound stability (relatively speaking)? In a way, it seems counterintuitive. Marathon training itself takes a lot of dedication and a certain amount of sacrifice. It cuts into work time, family time, and rest time. Then add to that the barre workouts - if I do them 4 times a week, that's another 6 hours where I'm not really attending to my responsibilities. And yes, on a day-to-day basis, it does feel like a lot. I do feel the strain.

On the other hand, my immersion in these activities means that:

(1) I have more energy during the day and I sleep better at night.

(2) I have less time to worry/stress, because when I'm working out I'm very focused on the task at hand.

(3) I'm forced to make transitions more quickly. For instance, even if my mind WANTS to stay in work mode all evening, when I get to barre class, it simply can't. There's not enough energy for that.

(4) I have a better social life. I'm opening up more to RF, getting to know her friends, and starting to get to know the people at Xtend Barre.

Ultimately, I keep myself so occupied that I do not leave as much room for ruminating, worrying, planning, obsessing. I think that's a big part of it. Maybe I've been underestimating the positive long-term effects of exercise on my mental state. Maybe it's kind of like the antidepressants themselves: one pill here and there won't make much long-term difference; you have to take them every day if you want them to work, and they don't work right away. If you miss a day, it won't hurt you much so long as you get back on track the following day. Perhaps the influence of exercise on the brain is similar: the long-term consistency is key.

What NOT to ask a woman: a post about body image

I just returned to the U.S. from my week-long trip to Italy for a professional workshop/conference. In fact, I'm currently sitting at the airport, waiting for the last leg of my trip home. It's been a long 24 hours. When I've recovered from jet lag and uploaded and sifted through my pictures, I'll post some. Italy was a great experience on both personal and professional levels; I was expecting it to go well, but it far exceeded my expectations.

But I wanted to talk about something that happened while I was at the workshop, something that chipped away at what I thought was a solider-than-ever self-image.

The first day, I wore a dress. I've worn this dress various times in various settings, and I was under the impression that I look nice in it. I felt confident in it. But during dinner that evening, someone asked me whether I was pregnant. And then the next day, when I was wearing just my usual jeans and t-shirt combo, someone ELSE asked if I was pregnant! I'm not pregnant. At all. No chance. Awkward. I felt worse for the people who asked (both women, by the way) than for myself because I know how awful it feels to mess up like that. (Although come on. Is it not a well-known universal rule that you NEVER EVER EVER ask someone if she's pregnant?!?)

Now. Granted, I'd been eating a lot of delicious food without trying to limit myself, but a) it wasn't like I was gorging and b) even if I was, can a food baby grow THAT fast? I kept looking in the mirror to see whether I'd somehow expanded significantly within a timespan of 48 hours, but to me, I looked like... the same old me.

I have never had a flat stomach. I didn't have one before I was pregnant, and I don't have one now - especially because growing a human in my uterus resulted in some spectacular stretch marks and skin that will never re-learn how to bounce back. A good diet, lots of exercise - I see the difference when I work out and feed my body well, but I have come to the conclusion that I will never lose my curves or my soft belly. You could make me an island castaway, Tom Hanks style, and even on a diet of raw fish and coconut milk, my belly would still be there. (Maybe I could paint a little smiley face on it and make it my own personal Wilson...)

I don't resent the women who asked me (though I do question their social skills). I get that they weren't trying to insult me. After all, pregnant bodies are gorgeous. I DO resent the self-consciousness that has started to creep back in. Over the past few months I've started to feel really strong. I've started to feel more appreciative of my body, in spite of (and because of) its "flaws." And now I'm being critical of myself again. I also wonder how many other people have wondered whether I'm pregnant, thanks to my somewhat chubby middle. 

I think, too, that the incident recalls some bad memories. Like when I was 16 and a peer told me that I had "great legs and great hair," but that I "just needed to work on my stomach." Or, worse, when my (former) best friend told me that she'd always felt bad for me because I tried so hard to keep myself in shape but I couldn't lose the tummy. Or when my mom asked me, a few weeks (WEEKS) after the birth of my son whether I was pregnant again, whilst patting my middle. 

Oy.

I just have to keep reminding myself that:

-people come in lots of different shapes and sizes, and that diversity is beautiful.

-a strong body doesn't have to be a skinny body.

-a healthy body doesn't have to be a skinny body.

-there are soooooooo many other things to worry about - things that are more important by multiple orders of magnitude.

-sometimes people don't think before they speak, but that doesn't make them bad or rude people. I have a muffin top; they have foot-in-mouth disease.

Anyway, I'll share a couple links to articles along these lines:

"Half," by Julia Kozerski

If Lady Gaga is considered overweight, then our society has truly lost its marbles 

What makes you feel self-conscious about your body? And what do you like/love about it?

Friday Five: Prepping for Italy edition!

1. I'm going to Italy tomorrow! I'll be there for a week, participating in a conference/workshop a couple hours north of Rome. I'm nervous about traveling, not knowing the language (though I can count from zero to twenty in Italian!), and the potential for coming across as a total dunce at this workshop, but mostly I'm just excited. September in Italy is supposed to be beautiful, and made all the more beautiful by Italian wine and Italian coffee.

2. This week's mileage:

Sunday: 15 miles (see previous post)

Tuesday: 5 miles

Wednesday: Xtend Barre class

Thursday: 4 miles

Friday (today!): 13 miles! I stayed home, packed, and went on the 13-miler with my husband. The weather was sunny and cool, and my legs felt good for most of it. I'm bringing my running attire to Italy and will go out for a jog if I have time. But if not, at least I completed this week's long run, and hopefully I can get right back into the swing of my marathon-prep schedule when I return.

I'm not sure I've ever run 37 miles in less than 6 days before!

3. I went shopping today for travel snacks, and I found THESE. At TARGET! 

Nutritionally-complete (well, mostly), gluten-free, vegan travel snacks. I never thought I'd see the day. True, I don't like the amount of packaging these require, but there's some measure of comfort in knowing that even though I'll be spending a total of >15 hours in flying metal sardine cans, at least I'll have snacks that I can eat and that taste good.

4. I hate packing. I do it a lot and it never gets any easier. I'm trying to stuff everything into a backpack and a small suitcase. Should be totally doable, but somehow I'm struggling.

5. I am grateful for:

-awesome family

-awesome friends

-awesome therapy guy

-awesome advisor

-health - especially that I am healthy enough to run

-pharmaceuticals that work, and that I have been feeling like a normal, relatively happy person lately (knock on wood)

-the ability to grow and to gain new insights, even from familiar experiences

-wine

-hummus

-travel opportunities

-blogs (I love reading blogs! My guilty pleasure.)

-Blue jeans

-New episodes of Guiliana and Bill on Netflix

Daydreaming of the Alps

Jill's descriptive posts about the Tour des Geants have me reminiscing about the month I spent hiking in the mountains of Germany, Austria, and Italy.

It was a long time ago. Eight years ago. I can't believe so much time has passed since then, and how quickly. I have fond memories of: the huts, muesli, calloused feet, stinky wool socks, near-vertical ascents up wooded slopes, fluorescent shoelaces, via ferrata, breathtaking views.

It was one of those times when you know you're in the midst of a special experience. Jill's pictures, and these pictures, make me want to go back.

"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds." - Edward Abbey

Running on the Space Coast

Yesterday my running friend (and good friend outside of running) and I signed up for our first marathon together: the Space Coast marathon in Cocoa, FL. It's near the Kennedy Space Center and the event has, not surprisingly, a space theme. People dress up as astronauts and aliens, and there are photo ops with space shuttles, rockets, and the like. We said we wanted a fun run; this fit the bill. She's excited, I'm excited, we're excited.

The SCM is in 11 weeks. Yeah, we made our decision a little late, which explains why we will be going 15 miles for our first long run this weekend. We've already had several people inform us that we are crazy/overly optimistic/out of touch with reality. But whatever. It's 15 miles. It's doable, and not just for sponsored superhero athletes. For regular people like me, too. We choose to look at it as taking half a day to do an enjoyable training run in the great outdoors in a city we both love.

Here's our training schedule. We'll likely need to make some schedule-based modifications to the shorter runs, but we are determined to stick to the long runs, the longest mid-week run, and the Saturday run:

Today was 7 miles, and we KILLED that run. Killed it. She was keeping track of the distance; I wasn't. I was truly surprised when we hit our goal because although it was challenging (as most runs are for me), it was also a lot of fun, and the time passed quickly.

Did I mention that I'm really, really excited?

Aside from the opportunity to challenge ourselves and spend time in a beautiful part of the country, one other very important aspect of this - for me, anyway - is that I'll be running this with a friend. A FRIEND. MY FRIEND. Two years ago I didn't have any friends. Yes, I had kinda-sorta acquaintances, but that was about it. Running has been the best thing for providing an atmosphere, an environment, where I can be myself - where I don't have much choice BUT to be myself, because I'm usually too tired to think about self censorship. When I run with people, I feel so much like myself that I don't even think about myself. Does that make sense?

Plus, I love poop jokes, other runners usually love poop jokes... It's the perfect arena in which to find like-minded individuals.

Tomorrow: 4 miler!

Home again, home again

I am so very, very, very happy to be home again. I love my home so much. It's small, it's not fancy in any way, it's never really clean, but I adore it.

The trip ended on a good note: last night my husband and I went on a date to a delicious Mexican restaurant, and this morning we went running together along a cool, shaded path before we flew home. Time with my in-laws went as well as it possibly could have. I'm glad we went and grateful that I managed to hold it together.

I can't wait to sleep in my own bed. I can't wait to NOT see the inside of the airport for the next five weeks. I value any opportunities to travel, but after four trips in as many months, I'm ready for a break. I'm ready to establish a dull routine.

When we got home tonight I made a meal out of a can of garbanzo beans, a bag of pre-cooked rice, and whatever vegetables hadn't gone bad in the refrigerator while we were away:

Chickpeas and zucchini mixed with olive oil, turmeric, cumin, and coriander, roasted for 30 minutes at 400 degrees in the toaster oven

 Caramelized onion (photo shows mid-caramelization process)

Rice - I am a big fan of this brand when I want to take the easy way out

+ tomatoes and spinach =

easy, healthy dinner + leftovers for tomorrow's lunch:

Yum. I especially love the caramelized onion/roasted chickpea combination.

And now to collapse in a heap, on my own bed.

Mini-Vacation, Days 1 and 2

• Went running with my husband on a well-shaded bike path while my in-laws watched our son. 4.5 miles both days. Difficult. Muggy. Awesome.

• Lemon italian ice outside at dusk. Delicious.

• Beach this morning. My son and I made sandcastles while my husband and in-laws swam. It was really hot, but I'm glad we went because my son was so thrilled to see the ocean. One of my favorite things about being a parent is watching him become totally engrossed in something he's doing, in this case making sand towers and then clapping and squealing as they were knocked down by waves.

• Rum-laced tropical smoothies and delicious salad for dinner.

• 1/4 of the way into a poorly-written book that I can't put down. Best read while sitting in front of an air conditioner or fan because... whew... My husband asked how this is different from the cheap romance novels they sell at the grocery store and why this book is so popular. I don't know, because I've never read those romance novels, but I will say that I think people are generally fascinated when "fringe activities" are brought into the mainstream. And hey, as it turns out, it looks like a lot of people are sort of into those fringe activities... or at least they want to be...

Petals on wet, blotchy concrete

Ever since freshman poetry, one of my favorite poems is "In a Station at the Metro" by Ezra Pound:

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough

Now whenever I see pink petals, I automatically think of that second line.

It rained this evening, unexpectedly, and the rain brought down a hail of blooms from the tree next door. For a couple of minutes, it looked like it was snowing. Pink snow.

*  *  *
I feel better today, which should come as no surprise because I always eventually feel better. But whenever I'm feeling depressed - even if it's for a very short time - there's part of me that is utterly convinced that I will always be stuck in that heavy, dark place. It's like an emotional nausea. I think I'm finally getting to the point where I can tell myself that it's going to get better soon, even if I don't entirely believe it.

Tomorrow my little family is going on a mini-vacation. Nothing fancy, but I'm really looking forward to it. I got my work done today and mentally checked out the second I left the building.

Seattle in pictures

I'm sitting in the Las Vegas airport, waiting for my (delayed) flight home. Good thing McCarran has free Wi-Fi to go along with its wealth of slot machines.

My time in Seattle in pictures...

We went to Pike Place Market which, while a little touristy, is nevertheless lush, interesting, and colorful. We bought huge, gorgeous bouquets of flowers for only $5 each, which seems unheard of where I live, and we got samples of delicious stinky cheeses at Beecher's Homemade Cheese (I definitely did not stick to a vegan diet on this trip).

Famous fish-throwing locale:

We visited the Chateau St. Michele winery, where we did a tasting and then had a picnic on the lawn.

(I especially liked the 2008 Ethos cabernet sauvignon.)

And my mom and sister-in-law made me go shopping with them. I hate shopping. Detest it. It is a form of torture and punishment for me. However, there was chocolate involved, so it all worked out.

The above picture was taken at Glassybaby. I couldn't tell whether these were drinking tumblers or candle holders, but they were very pretty. I love glasswork. They were just too expensive, too heavy, and too breakable for me to cart home.

I'm glad I went to Pullman. I'm glad I went to Seattle. I'm glad I got to drive across the state of Washington, twice, alone - I think it's good for people to take solo road trips every once in a while - and see the mountains and the flood basalts. I'm glad that the visit with my family was relatively drama-free. And I am very, very glad to be going home. If this plane ever gets here.

Family reunion (open bar)

Once I was done with labwork in Pullman, I drove over to Seattle for an impromptu family reunion of sorts. My brother lives there with his wife and son, and my parents flew in from the East Coast.

My brother has several bottles of wine and a case of beer on hand. Plus a full container of Jack Daniels in the fridge.

Being with my parents is difficult for me (and my brother, I think), for reasons that date back to when I was little. At our worst times, our visits have ended in fights suitable for the Jerry Springer Show (I remember being 10 weeks pregnant with my son and getting into an argument with my dad while we were in the car; at one point I was convinced he was going to plow right off the road, we were screaming so much). At best, we can eat dinner together, have a couple glasses of wine, and sit in the same room for a few hours. And even this feels something akin to running a marathon that I haven't adequately trained for.

Sometimes, when I hear about people going on pleasant vacations with their parents or having raucous Thanksgiving meals together or saying that their mom is their best friend or seeing their mom and dad over the weekend just to get that old comfort of home, I feel jealous. It's just not like that for us. The tension never goes away. There is so much unsaid and no-one is going to start that conversation. It would be way too difficult, way too painful.

One thing I have learned - thanks to my parents, but also to my husband and especially my son - is how influential and important family is. I mean, I knew that on an intellectual level, but now it's seeped into my bones. I truly believe there is nothing more important than raising a child as best you can, as lovingly and thoughtfully as you can, because that love (or lack thereof) is the foundation for everything that happens after. I say this as someone who wrestles with parenting on a daily basis. I am not a natural. But I am doing my damnedest to be "good enough" and to change what I need to change to be someone my son can count on.

"Whatever you are, whatever you do, your baby will get it. Anything you eat, any worries that are on your mind will be for him or her. Can you tell me that you cannot smile? Think of the baby, and smile for him, for her, for the future generations. Please don't tell me that a smile and your sorrow just don't go together. It's your sorrow, but what about your baby? It's not his sorrow, it's not her sorrow.” - Thich Nhat Hanh

So I have to say that I have really, really enjoyed running during my stay here in Pullman, WA. I was a little worried about this trip because no-one I talked to who has visited or lived in this area had anything particularly glowing to say about it. Here's what I had heard about Pullman before I saw it myself:

• It's boring.
• It's small.
• It's not that pretty. 
• I'm sorry you have to go there.

You can see why I was hesitant.

BUT! As it turns out, it is a runner's dream. It has an extensive and well maintained trail system, and the weather is generally not too warm (though we did have a couple of hot days while I was here). And although it lacks the mountainy ruggedness of western Washington, it's very pretty: Pullman is surrounded by miles and miles of rolling fields that come in a variety of colors depending on crop type.

I've been running primarily on the Bill Chipman trail, which runs for 7-8 miles between Pullman and Moscow (Mosc-OH, apparently - not like the city in Russia), Idaho. As far as I can tell, some people just use their bikes to commute from one to the other. I'm so jealous of that.

Other things I like about Pullman and Moscow and this area:

• Great transportation options (like shuttles between here and Spokane, or here and Seattle, plus a city bus route)
• Moscow Food Co-op - so stupendously awesome
• Gem State Crystals - also in Moscow. I bought my son a collection of treasures here: some agate, some labradorite, and some staurolite. These are the types of presents you get when both your parents are geologists. ;-)

A few photos of and from the Bill Chipman trail:

Yeah. It was pretty great. The rest of the trip was productive, even fun, but it's the running that helps me stay on track and grounded - and this was a wonderful place to run.

Comfort food

I like to travel and see new places, but I get easily overwhelmed by the novelty and unfamiliarity of everything. Eating well, running, getting enough sleep, and having time to myself all help me deal with that (with varying degrees of success). On this trip, my sleep hasn't been great (the dorm I'm staying in has no AC, and it's been over 90 degrees the past few days) nor have I had a lot of alone time (I'm sharing the dorm space with two other women - which is actually a good thing, as discussed below).

BUT! I'm doing pretty well in the running and food departments. First, the food. Finding stuff I can eat is clearly not difficult here:

One of my roommates is from India. She's here for six months to study plant biology. She is a vegetarian and a wonderful cook. One night she made me veggie pakora: vegetables dredged in chickpea flour and fried:

It was so easy and crunchy and delicious. I'm definitely making this when I get home.

I also splurged on a chocolate milkshake. It was made with dairy milk (organic, from local cows, and the money from this business goes right back into care of said cows). It was delicious. I want to eat vegan, but I don't think I need to be particularly militant about it if there's a situation where having non-vegan food offers a unique opportunity and/or benefit. I guess for me, it doesn't have to be all or nothing - especially when I'm on the road.

Next time: comfort running! I'm hoping to do a short run tonight and take some pictures along the way.