Changes and swagger

Ooh, I had an unexpected turn of events yesterday.  After reviewing my running log and learning I was either nearly or desperately, horrifically in need of new shoes, I high-tailed it to Run N Fun, my local running shop.  I've worn Mizuno Wave Riders in size 8 for years and years - when one pair gets tired, I dash in and out of Run N Fun without even trying on the next model.  But all summer, I felt like I was constantly shoving super-large feet into too-small shoes, and as you can imagine, that feels unpleasant and uncomfortable.

Prepare yourself for an earth-shattering Change #1: I tried on an 8.5 instead of an 8 and bought them.  Apparently, my feet are expanding, but man, these shoes are comfortable.

Now get ready for Change #2.

Seriously, what would you rather have?  Dirty, smelly, sad shoes?

or snazzy-to-the-max, flashy, not-smelly, full-of-pep GREEN speed racers?

 

Yes, these are the new Wave Riders!  I studied them momentarily and couldn't decide if they were the ugliest things I have ever seen or the coolest.  And then I decided on the latter.

I wore them to running club last night and loved them.  We did a tough workout combining marathon pace and hills (lots of hills) and when the going got tough, I sometimes looked down at my peppy new shoes and felt a little burst of energy.  Afterward, when I was walking across the parking lot to my car, it was undeniable.  A cool evening breeze was blowing, the sun was setting, and I had a little extra strut in my step.

I made Josh take my picture to capture my good mood and fab shoes when I got home.  I hope the strut in my step back in the parking lot didn't manifest itself quite like this, though. A little awkward.

Lesson learned: Happy shoes in the last big weeks of a marathon training cycle make a monster difference.

Memories

Oh, guys, I could spend hours and hours looking at old family photos.  Luckily, my mom shares this affinity, and she took a ton of photos of us growing up and has the vast majority organized into albums - you know, Rebecca I, Rebecca II, that kind of thing.  We watch old VHS tapes from my dad's big video camera at Christmas, and whenever we celebrate a birthday, there's always a photo album out - I suspect because my mom was flipping through it earlier in the day.

I love old photos partly because they were often taken before we learned to make appropriate faces for the camera.  I met a friend in college on a spring break camping trip who has a tradition of True Feelings photos - after you take the smiley photo, you're free to take a photo with whatever facial expression is lurking inside you.  Childhood photos are like True Feelings photos, all the time.

Last night, we had a family dinner to celebrate my brother's birthday, and after the meal, we sat down and had a good old time looking through one of his photo albums.  I spent most of this time doubled over laughing.  Take a look at this photo, for example.  While I sit with Grandpa on his chair and jovially show him the Koosh ball I had just gotten for Christmas, my brother is preoccupied with a beverage and a present of his own, which appears to be a really big knife:

the look on his face!

And if I get to show that photo to all of the internet, it's only fair that I show one of my own finer moments.  When I was a kid, my grandparents had a hot tub in their basement.  It was totally awesome and we'd go over once in awhile after dinner to sit in the hot tub, water wings and all.  By the end of the night, my brother and sister and I would be tuckered out and ready for bed.  I guess on this particular night I had reached that stage before anyone else.  Everyone is having a jolly good time, and then there's me in the background in my neon, being a tremendous party pooper:

This is a True Feelings photo for sure.

Happy Monday, right?

Please explain

Yesterday, as mentioned, I took the bus to meet Josh for a Twins game.  It requires just one transfer and drops me at Target Field's front door for the meager fee of $2.25.  It usually also comes with some bus shenanigans, which I appreciate.

I walked a few blocks from my home to the bus stop, where a hipster was sitting in the grass nearby, listening to music while he waited for the bus.  At the sidewalk extension that denotes a bus stop, I noticed two bananas and one avocado, both in pristine condition, sitting neatly next to the curb.  I frowned.  I looked at the hipster and he made 1) no mention of claiming the produce and 2) no acknowledgement of how weird this sight was.  The next step was obvious but also ran the risk of falling prey to some sort of strange prank or performance art.  I took out my camera and furtively took a photo of the scene, my dignity loosely intact.

Minutes went by, as is customary when waiting for this particular bus.  Two other passengers arrived at the bus stop.  Neither one claimed the groceries.  At the very least, this was a sad waste of an avocado, but I speculated that it may have been injected with arsenic.  I started to wonder if it was actually some sort of code meant for someone else.  My imagination began to run wild.

"If one banana is out, tonight's capers are on.  If two bananas and an avocado are out, they're off!"

Then the bus pulled up, and all four of us stepped over the produce and boarded the bus. 

When we drove past the intersection, all three pieces were gone.

Help me!!  What happened?

Last Saturday in August?!

I was late to running club this morning.  I didn't miss the run's start, which would have been an extreme bummer, given that the day's schedule called for 20 miles. But I was That Girl, the one who rolls up with her hair down and shoes untied, just as the coach is wrapping up his instructions.  Oops.

But why was I late, you ask?  It's probably understandable for any event that begins each Saturday morning at 7:00.  Today, though, it wasn't courtesy of an alarm clock failure.  As usual, I stumbled into the kitchen bleary-eyed and started making coffee and my English muffin with PB.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something orange coming from outside my kitchen window.  I had to learn more, so I put in my contacts. 

Ha!  It was just a beautiful sunrise.  I grabbed my camera, opened the door to our patio, and tottered down the alley wearing my large, fleecy yellow robe to get a better view. Thank heavens no other humans had to start their day with this sight.  But the sight of the sunrise--that was something to behold:

I finished getting ready, and when I jumped in the car 20 minutes later, the sky was back to run-of-the-mill (but still beautiful) blue with puffy white morning clouds.  It was perfect weather to start the run: The temperature was around 60, and more importantly, it wasn't sticky and humid.  (I nearly just typed a smiley emoticon--that's how satisfying I found the weather.) 

Our club had a good showing today--I'd guess 30-40 runners showed up--and there were a ton of runners out on the trails getting ready for fall races.  The route covered Lake of the Isles, a big stretch of the Midtown Greenway, West River Parkway, Minnehaha Parkway, Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun before winding back around Lake of the Isles to the start.  I felt really good today, too, which was reassuring given that I had a trainwreck of a 20-miler a few weeks ago.  I told my running buddy that another six miles wouldn't have been joyful, but they probably would have been okay. 

But of course 20 was quite enough.  Now I'm home and hydrating, and I have a few important priorities for the day. Notably:

• Assemble a turkey-mozzarella-pesto sandwich from the contents of my fridge.
• Spend some quality time with my couch and my Us Weekly.  ("Jen's Baby Countdown"!)
• Haul myself over to Target Field in time for this afternoon's Twins game via the 21-94C Metro Transit special.
• Eat ice cream.

Speaking of ice cream--and can you imagine a better way to start a sentence?--I haven't been a major consumer of State Fair food, ever since an unfortunate incident that involved Josh and I eating everything in sight at the fair over the course of, like, 45 minutes.  But ever since the reviews starting coming in, I haven't been able to get sweet corn ice cream out of my mind.  This week, I might have to wrangle some.

A full Thursday

Two years in a row makes it a tradition!

Yesterday, Grandma and I had our annual date to a Twins game.  We had originally chosen a game last month, but the mercury soared to 100 degrees that day, and we made the wise decision of postponing.  Yesterday was glorious: about 78 degrees, with a gentle occasional breeze.  We were also in the shade.  We couldn't have asked for better weather.

(A brief sidenote: the day actually started off on a sour note before it turned wonderful.  I was enjoying the beautiful morning on my run and was three miles away from home when a root on Summit Avenue's dirt path got the best of me.  I tripped, flew through the air not gracefully, and landed in what must have been a dirt patch, because a cloud of dust covered me.  I scraped up my palms and knees and generally dented my right side, but the only serious wound was to my pride.  Let it be known that I saw about three cars for the entire run until that point, when about a dozen cars drove slowly by me as I was literally brushing myself off.  Josh tried frequently through the day to get me to admit that I tripped because I was distracted by a dog sighting.  I will deny this forever.)

Anyway, I drove up 94 to pick up Grandma, and for about 25 miles of the trip, there were periodic road signs warning Helicopter work ahead.  Huh?!  I saw no evidence of this on the trip's first leg.  On the way back to Target Field, though, lo and behold, we spotted helicopters flying very low and stringing power lines.  Whoa.

We got to Target Field without incident, helicopter or otherwise, and Josh met us there and walked us to our Section 202 seats, down the right field line.  We watched the Moorhead Middle School Orchestra perform the national anthem, and then the game was underway.  We ate walleye fingers!  We even got a welcome message on the scoreboard in the fifth inning, thanks to Josh!  I briefed Grandma on Ben Revere (she liked his size and speed) and Jim Thome (she was pleased to learn how nice he is).  

We watched eight innings of a game that was tight despite shaky starting pitching. Before that, Grandma was feeling the tension.  She told me that she had used up all of her slang words in her cheers, including "gosh."  If the game stayed close much longer, she said, her language could get really ugly.  The Orioles stretched their lead to five runs in the seventh, so I never got to hear that next level.

It was a fast game, and we were back on the interstate before I knew it. When we got back to Grandma's house, she brought out a bag of cookies and raisin bread (her specialties) plus an embroidered dishcloth for me.  Best of all, she revealed my annual pair of socks.  She knits the most wonderful, warm, cozy socks, and everyone in our family loves them.  The way the daylight is fading in my fair city, I know I'll be wearing them constantly soon.  This pair, unbeknownst to her, was in the colors of my alma mater!!  I was thrilled.

Attached to every pair is a card with care instructions, labeled in her handwriting, which I find exceptionally comforting.  It should be made into a font.

Finally, I noticed this wonderful sign driving through a town not far from her home.  As we head into the weekend, let's hear it for Andy and Celine!

Happy days.