Triathlon Blues

This is my sister.

This is her climbing a wall in LA. She’s afraid of heights, but when she came to visit, she insisted we go rock climbing, as it is something she wanted to try.

Nikki is having a little Triathlon Blues this week, and who can blame her? Her Tri is less than two weeks away, and she’s sick of getting up early, of only ever working out, and probably sick of writing about it. That’s where I come in.

When my sister and I were younger, we both played soccer. She was better (but I still maintain I was faster.) We played piano: she was better. We both wrote (she was better) and we both took joy out of being mean to each other (she, most definitely, was better.) I had a blog: she wanted one. (Hers is funnier.) Although I am mostly better at bossing people around, and baking, she is better than most things. I’d like to think it’s because she is two years older, so two years wiser, but I suspect it’s because she maintains the attitude of “oh yea? I can’t do whatever I want, just because I am a woman, short, and don’t have much directional sense? Watch me.”

And so, when my sister, who used to share an equal hate with me of running, declared that she loved running and was going to do a triathlon, (the idea of my sister swimming in open water made me laugh and want to call the Coast Guard all at once) I wasn’t that surprised.

She ran, a lot. She had already run 5ks, and a half marathon. With hills. Which had ALREADY surprised me.

She started swimming because the doctor told her she couldn’t run. Tendinitis be damned, this girl was GOING to work out, and you couldn’t stop her. This was nearly a year ago, and she’s now up to swimming a full mile, in OPEN WATER. Do you think I’ll be hoping in the Pacific any time soon to swim a mile? (Nope, not after this year’s special on Great White Sharks, and also, I can’t swim really…)

Then, girl writes on April 1 (so let’s be honest, she could have been joking) that in August she was going to do a Triathlon. SERIOUSLY? Is there nothing my sister won’t do? All I do is yoga, Nikki: you’ve beat me. You can stop now, I swear.

In June, my sister bought a bike.

For those of you who don’t know, my sister and I learned how to ride bikes at the same time. I am pretty sure I was up and off training wheels first. Her coordination is lacking, and although I bike through the streets of LA, I couldn’t foresee my sister EVER wanting to do so in Chicago. But here was the evidence, on her blog, of her, fearless (almost) and biking to the lake.

So let’s go over the timeline, one more time:

October, 2009: My sister gets tendinitis, and is told she can’t run. So she swims.

April 1, 2010: My sister decides that she’s going to do a triathlon.

June 11, 2010: She buys a bike

July 14, 2010: She gets into the open water for her first open water swim.

August 29, 2010: My sister will be doing her first triathlon.

Unfortunately, I won’t be there to cheer her on, and see how awesome she does. But for now, I am basically trying to tell her (and you, so you can tell her, too) that she is going to do fine. Better than fine. Great. Wonderful. She is doing something that I have never even considered. She is doing something that a year ago I would have found crazy. She has trained for almost 5 months for something, devoting most of her free time to it, and Tendinitis, coordination, avid triathletes be damned: she will win, because she will finish. And then, by September, she will be on to a new crazy project: the next one, I hope, will involved yoga, and getting herself to a handstand. Nikki: you will be wonderful. Get get ’em.

Chicago, and a giant eyeball.

When I was in Chicago we went on the architectural tour and saw the city from the Chicago River. Beautiful. Here are some choice shots:

Inbound…

Random water tower.

Building with no corner offices, so nobody thinks they’re better than anyone else…

I want to live in that little green house…

One of Chicago’s many bridges

The adornments for this building? The buildings around it, of course.

Sears Tower. Always.

This building is an equilateral triangle.

Hey, Nice Wings.

Back in the day, when I was a child, my family and I went to a few runs of the Lilith Fair. We are big fans of Ms. Sarah McLachlan. She is kind of a theme song player in our house. We also love Sheryl Crow, and other ladies who sing their hearts out at festivals (I’m looking at you, Lisa Loeb.) We went two years in a row with a slew of people: the Breens, my cousin Lauren, my cousin Jimmy. etc. The next year we changed the cast of characters, and then that was that. Then we moved to Michigan in April of 1999 and Lilith was just a memory of my past. I remember that one year my best friend Lauren went too, with her Dad and sister. We found each other at breaks, and walked around together (we were sitting on the lawn, they were sitting in seats.) It was one of the first times that I was trusted to go find a friend by myself — I must have been 11 or 12, and I remember finally feeling like I was growing up. I remember my cousin Jimmy told a girl that she had nice wings. She said thanks, danced in a circle, and went on her enchanted way. Mya was at the Lilith Fair one of my two times, and she sang a few of her songs, and then tap danced for like 10 minutes. It stood out in my memory as a moment when I realized some people, even famous people, have talents they don’t always share with the public.

When my sister told me earlier this year that the Lilith Fair was making a comeback, I immediately decided we had to go.

The Breens were on board, because they are generally awesome like that, and plans were made: Lilith Fair, Chicago 2010. Almost-Family Reunion Tour. So tonight I fly to Chicago, to see my sorella and my mom, and my dad, and the Breens, to see Sarah and other woman who know how to rhyme and make me sway. I will be there for less than 48 hours, but it will be worth it. Line up includes:

Sarah McLachlan
Kate Nash
Court Yard Hounds (2/3 of the Dixie Chicks)
La Roux
Heart
Mary J. Blige

…and more.

And I, for one, cannot wait. Chicago, here I come. Sarah: it’s a long way down to the place where we started from. It’ll be nice to see you again, after 12 years.

Hope everyone else has excellent weekend plans…

In the "F" section of fiction…

Apparently, according to a quick search this morning, I have never fully explained to you my love of the book barn. Now, I did mention it a while back as my favorite place to buy books, and that it is. But it is so much more than a place to buy books, and I will try to explain it here, although I know I will not do it justice.

When I was a kid, my mom used to pile me, my sister, and my brother, into our Volvo station wagon, many bags, coolers, and chairs in tow, ready for a full day at the beach. Every day of the summer, we drove 20 minutes (even though we lived about 5 minutes from the beach) to Rocky Neck. It’s one of the best beaches, because it is long, smooth, and on a sandbar. And has an area for crabbing (which we did with chicken legs, catching crabs and putting them back, never big enough to bring home.) The sandbar always allowed us to swim without our mother having to worry much about us: the water was usually to our knees, unless it was high tide, and then the water was to our chests, maybe, but only if you swam out far enough.

Anyways, the other good thing about Rocky Neck is that it is a three minute drive to the Book Barn. Which is just what is sounds like. When we were little, the Book Barn was a large barn, full of books, with one building in the back full of paperbacks. Paperbacks are a dollar. We’d go every few weeks, getting beach reads to bring to the beach. I picked up a book there about a girl who moves to Maine and meets a girl that turns into a seal. I don’t know what it’s called, but I remember reading it and having it be a magical experience. Many other good reads have come from there, and my shelves at home in Michigan are lined with books I picked up for a dollar, including a variety of John Steinbeck books from the years my dad and I decided we were going to read through them all (we’re still working on that one.) I’ve grabbed Barbara Kingslover, Ayn Rand, Charles Dickens, and a few J.K. Rowling books over the years, keeping them on shelves at home, waiting for a rainy day, or a long beach trip.

When we moved to Michigan at the end of seventh grade, we went back for a few years in the summers, taking two weeks to spend in Niantic, walking distance from Rocky Neck. We’d take trips to the Book Barn, stocking up on dollar books to bring back to Michigan and our pool, when we were landlocked for the summer months.

As we grew up, so did the Book Barn. The Barn is still full, as is the Annex (where I encountered my first Steinbeck.) Added to the arrangement was the Haunted Bookshop, the Last Page building, Ellis Island (where you can sell your books to the Book Barn’s lovely personnel), and Hades. Every time we go, I find a new section to love, and see more and more books, and thankfully, more and more patrons. The lovely people at the Book Barn have opened a second location downtown, and a third “midtown” spot.

The Book Barn’s not just books, either. There are always pets to play with, a few cats and a few dogs, wandering the premises, rubbing against your legs in the fiction section. There is always coffee, always a snack, and always water waiting for you in the main building, if your extended stay happens to go longer than you anticipated. In recent years, there are bags for carrying your books spread around the buildings, and seemingly more places to sit, if you need to read a little before you decide on a book. The books are still organized just as well as they always have been. Always alphabetically, always classics available, usually a copy of a new book I wanted to read but didn’t want to spend the money on nestled between a handful of books I’ve never heard of or between a few books dated “1930.” And, the best thing? Always, always music in each nook and cranny of the place. The Annex is blasting summer tunes (from Grateful Dead to 80s power ballads) whereas in the history basement of the barn, Sarah McLaughlin’s voice is on repeat. Never a quiet moment, always the right volume, always the right song, the right voice, the right moment.

I blame the Book Barn for two things: my undeniable tendency to get food and dirt in between books’ pages, and my stinginess for buying books. I can’t remember I bought a book new, or at full price (and if I did, I probably had a gift certificate.) I usually go to the library, but I am a lousy library patron, as I often forget to renew books (and forget to return them.) But I can’t justify spending $12 or $15 on a book, when I could get 15 books at the book barn for that same price! I also can’t help spilling Jax on the pages, knowing the book was a dollar, and knowing that when I bought the book it was already loved, and if we’re being honest, a little damp, as it sat in a building open to the elements. I carry this mentality to many books, getting sand in the pages, fig newton stains, soda, water, and sometimes coffee on books. Of course, I am careful when I borrow from friends, but it is really hard for me to not end up having a book’s cover come off, or having the binding either break or be stained when I return it.

And so, when I was home in CT in June, my family made time for the Book Barn. Getting to the Book Barn and to the beach is on the “to do” list every time we go home for pleasure, as is “visit family” and “eat a whole crap load of food.” We spent a mere hour and a half at the book barn, and I loved every moment of it. I spent time exploring the basement of the Book Barn, where the history and political books lie, but couldn’t justify buying too many, as some were $4, which is just a little over my price range, personally.

This visit, as I was struggling to minimize my pile in the “F” section of fiction, I helped my dad find a few books that were written in: hard cover books that say the owner’s name in cursive on the front flap, proudly listing a date. We found one from the 1890’s, which my dad kept close, as it was one of the oldest in his collection. (Granted, he started this collection of personalized books only a few weeks ago, but still.)

Half way through my wandering, I realized that since my parents had driven in from MI, I could send books home with them, and get them when I arrived in Chicago in July. Thank you, Southwest, for feeding my book addiction (bags fly free — even bags full of books!) So I walked out with seven or eight books, spending about $16 (I splurged for a few $4 books in the end.)

The Book Barn is a magical place. As I was busy entranced in books, I did not take any pictures; luckily, Jeffrey was on hand, documenting the beauty with photographs that live up to the Book Barn’s majesty.

Got a pack of cards, Obama on audio tape, and my fave boy…

Guys: I leave today on vacay to a cruise. In the Bahamas. With Jeff. and his family. I am so excited. I am excited to have a vacation that is a real vacation: not being home (although I love being home), not visiting people who I miss (and miss me too), not driving, not in charge. I cannot remember the last time I went on vacation to somewhere that wasn’t to visit someone. I think it might have been when I was in high school and my family and I went to San Francisco.

We went to the Galapagos, too, but that was with my dad’s work. Going to San Francisco was the last time that my vacation was about seeing something new, being with people you love, and not, you know, cleaning up the kitchen when we were done.

In college, every break was to home, to Jeff, to babysit. The past two years, I’ve been on a cross-country road trip, I’ve been to Michigan countless times, Chicago, New York, Washington state, China, San Francisco. Every vacation I take is amazing: but all tiring. All work. This one, this is about relaxation. This is about having a good time. This is about the sun, the sky, the water, rest. I will sleep. I will read. I will listen to Obama. I will love Jeff. I will shop, I will visit new countries. I will enjoy Jeff’s family. I will come back tired. I will be rejuvenated. I will be ready for: Pittsburgh, Connecticut, and Chicago. I will be ready for weddings, for red eyes, for family, for babies and for loving.

What are all of you doing for vacations this year? Are you going abroad? Staying home? Visiting friends? Perhaps, visiting me? Picking strawberries on a remote farm in Vermont? Do tell!