Tag Archives: friends

Un’amica Stretta

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Like, for instance, we just learned the other day that un’amica stretta means “a close friend.” But stretta literally means tight, as in clothing, like a tight skirt. So a close friend, in Italian, is one you that can wear tightly, snug against your skin, and that is what my little Swedish friend Sofie is becoming to me.

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I am finally back from my road trip with Corelyn. We left last Saturday, April 23, and were on the road until Sunday, May 1. It was, as any road trip, a life-changing experience. We had a lot of adventures on the road, from the Grand Canyon to the Alamo, and I wouldn’t change a second of it.

On Monday, Corelyn put me back on a plane to LA. Neither of us cried, we just said goodbye, and I headed off. “I’m not going to watch you go through security,” Cor said, as we sat waiting as each moment ticked by. “So you don’t want to watch me inch forward and waive at me every one second?” I questioned. We laughed, but knew secretly we’d stay together every moment we could.

On the plane home, I started reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. The above paragraph is from that novel, in her “Italy” section. As I sat on the plane, headed home, I let a few tears go reading that section. Corelyn is un’amica stretta. She is my close friend, and I will wear her tightly, cliché or not.

I will miss her as she starts a new chapter of her life back east, but I know we will always be sorelle. In New Orleans, we stopped at a house that had been left dilapidated by Hurricane Katrina. An artist has repainted one of its walls and left a section for you to answer the statement, “Before I die…” I wrote “Open a restaurant.” Corelyn wrote, “With JP.”

I believe someday, I will open a restaurant with Corelyn. It will probably be on Apple Tush Farms, the farm I plan to have with K, SS, and M. And, my friends, we will all live happily. ever. after. For now? Filling the chapters in between with my California adventures that will restart this weekend after being away for so long. Wish me luck, loves.

 

Running, running, running…

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Week 2 of the 5K training is on. It’s Thursday already (How in the WORLD did that happen?) and LA has cranked up the heat. 90 degrees is our high today, and it makes me glad today is  “rest” day.

Yesterday I meant to run in the morning. I packed my gym bag. I packed my things for work. I set my alarm. I knew I’d make myself add to my iPod’s playlist in the morning. Everything was ready. And I woke up…at 6:45. Too late to do ANYTHING about the fact that I was supposed to run. So I got up (at least I could be on time for work) and chastised myself the entire way to work, knowing this meant rushing to the gym after work to run before a scheduled meeting with MMC and Cor.

I left work on time, and got to the gym at 5:55. Not horrible, could be better. I stretched, cursed the fact that my jams were SO OLD. I got on the treadmill, already hot (damn 24hour fitness, please turn the air up, please) but determined. As I ran, I tried to keep my speed at 6.0 and above, as my sorella suggested, because it would help my legs not get tired as quickly because they were at my natural stride. I allowed myself less walks. My heart rate was around 180 the entire time, and I pushed, and pushed, and pushed. As I got to a mile, I was at less than 12:30, and I knew I was on to something. I allowed a quick walk, then was back at it. The result?

1.5 miles in 17:51. More than 90 seconds off my previous best time of 19:29. I am feeling good today. I think I need to work on pace (I am a sprinter, walker, sprinter, more so than a jogger) and figure out a way to run outside without falling flat on my face or getting run over in this crazy city. Also I’d like to avoid the loooooong hills that Hollywood specializes in. We’ll see how I do.

With this 90 degree weather today, I will be waiting until next week to see how the outside world is…meanwhile, tomorrow is another 1.75 run, so I will attempt to run that in the AM to allow myself a free Friday evening. This afternoon? A walk through the neighborhood to make up for my Tuesday rest day, possibly to Paula Deen’s book on tape or else some podcasts.

Meanwhile, if you could guys could send a mixed CD my way, and podcast suggestions for my walks, that’d be great.

5k Training, Day 1: Rest (or run/walk)

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Yesterday was day 1 for my 5k training. (Day 1: rest, (or walk/run.)) Having my first day be a “rest” day wasn’t really amping me up for running a 5K.

Luckily, it was also the day of the LA Marathon, which my friends G and S ran in.

As my car was out of commission yesterday, I came up with a plan to cheer on friends at mile 11 and make it to the finish line in time to root them during their final stretch. With promises of a comfy couch, and coffee, I lured S’s brother R over at 6:00 am after dropping S at the marathon’s starting point. At about 8:30 I shuffled out of bed, opened my computer to the LA Marathon page, and realized that a) it was monsooning out and b) the website was down. So we decided to head up to mile 11 to cheer them on around 9:00, figuring we’d just about be on time.

Coffee and umbrellas in hand, we headed to the race. Turning the first corner of my street, I realized the race was a lot closer to home than I thought. There, on Sunset Boulevard, were dozens of people cheering on the runners. It was so heartening to see these people screaming for people, most of whom they didn’t know, would never see again. We only waited about fifteen minutes before R’s brother was running by, and we were yelling and cheering. The rain poured on as we waited for G to whiz by. I texted MMC to see what G was wearing.

“Now I feel like every guy in a blue tank is G…G!!!!! G!!!!!!!!!!” And there he was, not fifteen minutes behind S.

After high-fiving G, we headed back to the house for a little more coffee, and headed to Culver City to get Cor and move our party to the finish line. The rain was really coming down as we headed towards the ocean, and the wind was gradually picking up. Galoshes on, Cor in tow, we found our way to Santa Monica and all but pushed our way to the front of the marathon barriers.

By this point, R, Cor, and I were soaked. Umbrellas were no longer a help. The wind blowing, spitting salty rain into our faces, we kept our eyes on the runners.

“What’s he wearing?” Cor asked.
“Gray. And gray,” I replied, looking at every runner…
But there he was, running towards us!
“S!! S!! HEY S! HEY S!” we yelled. Head didn’t turn, but we saw him smile, figured he heard us.

The next hour was what really made the day. Rain, alternating between hard, harder, and THIS IS A HURRICANE, streaked down our faces. Our clothes were pasted to us, umbrellas lay useless at our sides. My hood shielded my eyes barely, and the taste of the ocean was on our lips. This, my friends, was rain. “THIS IS WORSE THAN FORKS!” Cor and I agreed. (In Forks, we hiked three miles, in the sleet. On a mountain, through the woods. This, this was worse.)

And so, to pass the time, Cor, R, and I took to screaming for people who were running. “YEA JOEY, GO JOEY, JOEY YOU’RE AWESOME, FINISH STRONG.” At first, people around us thought I knew a lot of people. Finally they realized I was just reading names off people’s bibs. “YEA BECKY, YOU ROCK!” I yelled. For an hour, we cheered and cheered and cheered. And then cheered some more. And still, cheered. I must have told five Jeffs, a dozen Johns, and several C(K)hristina’s to “pick it up, YOU’RE SO CLOSE, LET’S GO.”

Some people were genuinely thankful for our screaming, whereas some people were genuinely surprised someone knew their name. Either way, that hour was one of the most rewarding hours I’ve spent in a long time.

After we saw G run by (with a sprained ankle and he STILL finished!) we headed to find S, shivering, tired, but content. We headed back to R and Cor’s place, warmed up, and congratulated S on his job well done.

So what does this long, drawn out story have to do with my 5k? Besides the obvious inspiration drawn from S and G (if they can run a marathon then why can’t I run a 5k?) I felt inspired by the fans. Here were hundreds of people, cheering on thousands more, some people they knew, some they didn’t. Saying, you go, here you are, you’ve done it, you’ve finished it, you ROCK. Feeling the energy and support in the crowd made me realized that yea, I can do it. I can run this 5k. This is my moment.

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Today, day 2 of my training, I had to run 1.5 miles. This was further than I have ever consciously run at a time. And I hadn’t run in a few weeks, because work has been crazy. Liz and I headed to the gym together, and I kind of psyched myself out while waiting for the treadmill. After 1.5 miles on the recumbent bike, I was warmed up. I stretched, made a new playlist, hopped on.

20 minutes and 2 seconds later, I was done. I had stopped a few time to walk, but knew that I wouldn’t make my goal of a 13 minute mile if I walked any more. 13:00 came and I had gotten to 1 mile, and then spent the rest of the time trying to keep pace. I (almost) succeeded, and then spent 5 minutes cooling down.

After weight training and a heart to heart while strengthening my shoulders, I headed to my car and drove home. Taking my shoes off, I noticed two shiny, new blisters rising from the bottom of my feet.

Next step? Figuring out how to run my 1.5 miles on Wednesday with blistered feet.

Advice is always welcome.

Waitin’ for the daylight to bring me home…

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I’ve been saying all weekend that I want to update my blog, even though I don’t have much to update you on. Life has been cycling through work, home, sleep, and work again, to no avail. Finally we have reached a breaking point, and the season promises to slow down, thin out, allow me to slowly return to afternoons of running on the treadmill and evenings of cooking and blogging.

We’re planning a road trip, Cor and I, by the way. I posted about it on Garlic, My Soul, but for those of you who don’t read both, now you know. We’re driving the Southern route, starting the day before Easter, meandering through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Louisana, Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, and Georgia. Which, is to say, six states I’ve never been to. Seven states in all, nine days, friends and family to see, memories to make, pictures to capture, a final “hoorah!” before Garlic, My Soul goes bi-coastal.

I have this weird cold. It feels like mono, but as I know what mono feels like, it surely cannot. I’ve been getting copious amounts of sleep, lazing about, and drinking a lot of water. I also spent the better part of the weekend cleaning my house for KB’s arrival (and because, let’s be honest, the bathroom always needs a good scrub.)

Yesterday, as I was repotting my rosemary and aloe, Cor stopped by to split up the CSA veggies. She’d had a doctor’s appointment in the area. I’d forgotten that she was coming (weird cold, I’m telling you.)

She chatted with me as I scrubbed the toilet, and gladly accepted a cup of coffee. Then she went to the kitchen to check out the CSA situation. “WHERE did you get the artichokes?” she yelled.

“Oh yeah! The CSA!” I yelled back, from under the toilet.

“I’m going to make them right now.” Water running, dutch oven out. I vacuum the house. She cooks. Mid-90s music blasts in the background. “Hey, Jen, Jeff’s on his way…Jeff’s in the closet. On the phone.” Laughter ensues, artichokes still boiling, vacuum still sucking, giggles emitting throughout the house.

I turn the vacuum off, Cor pulling the artichokes out of the water, whipping up a butter sauce. We spend the next 30 minutes devouring the three artichokes, along with cheese and crackers. Jeff moves from the closet to the bedroom.

Artichokes gone, Jeff off the phone, we clean up. Corelyn goes. The recycling goes out. I shower. Kelly calls, because SHE’S HERE. What a good Saturday…

This week? More Kelly. Carne asada, cookies (chewy, thanks Alton Brown), Glee, game plan for cleaning the office up (we’re moving soon), starting the book club book, blogging, St. Patrick’s Day, a night of dancing, general mayhem. Josh Kelley, dream your fears away, Maroon 5, throw back to 2005, and smelling spring, missing you.

Vegas was…

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Two weekends ago we went to Vegas, and I realized that I never shared with you exactly how it went. Which was excellently.

Vegas was:

In the car, ready to go. Six in, five pm. On the road. Traffic, traffic, traffic. “Hey, you guys want to go to Outback Steakhouse?” A break early on. A cheers to a good trip. Back in the car, “Hey do you guys want to play a game?” Sitting on the dock of the bay, Eminem. On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair…Matt Nathanson pulling at my heartstrings. you wear white, and I’ll wear out the words ‘I love you’ and ‘you’re beautiful’.

Dunkin’ Donuts. Heart shaped donuts. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Two runs. “How could you go to the wrong Dunkin’ Donuts?” and “Just give him the muffins!” Pawn shop, just for the photos, and onwards to Target. Quick trips. Bathing suits, a discussion of clutches, and back into the car home. Make five sandwiches at once. Lettuce, lettuce, lettuce, lettuce, lettuce. Tomato, tomato…In the bag, out the door, onto the strip. Bellagio show, oohs and ahhs and oh, mys.

Sandwiches on the go. On to the Chinese New Year display, the glass flowers, and the terrifying bunny. Screaming on account of said bunny. Pause for a photograph, and camera DOWN. Making plans on the fly, over to Paris to get an Eiffel Tower. Penny slots, bathrooms, a snack, some coffee. Some Eiffel Tower buzz. Back in the car, onto the Beatles Bar. Stop to chat with Kevin, who promises us we’ll get in just fine. Revolution, noituloveR. love. Photographs, photographs galore. Back to the car, to get ready for the evening.

Curling irons, straighteners, two bathrooms, seven girls, seven dresses. Tights, jackets, earrings, gold, silver, teal, red, ruffles, hair ties, makeup, cover up, foundation, mascara. Wait for it, wait for it….ready. Boys have been ready. Out the door, into the car, two in the back, to the strip! Dinner oh là là! C’est parfait! “Guys, I’m having a great time.” Cheers to our trip. A gluten free menu, delicious bread, surrounded by friends. Cheers to a birthday. A happy birthday dessert. “If you paired up everyone on earth with someone of the opposite sex…” and the argument that persists into the main course. Math to pay, out the door…

dance floor. Let’s get it started (in here). Dancing, dancing, dancing, “Have you met my friend?” and introductions as our own matchmaker scourges the club for suitors. But the club can’t even handle me right now/just dance (gonna be O.K.)/and tonight I’m ****ing you/don’t get fancy, just get dancey….and the DJ’s got us fallin’ in love/bottoms up/throw your hands up…and we’re IN the subwoofer…move to the front of the club, side of the club, find a friend, lose a friend, find another, chaos/go shorty, it’s your birthday/I’ve gotta feelin’…

four hours later, dance floor bumpin’ and it’s time to go. Lost wallet? Quick scan of the floor, nowhere to be seen, gotta go…3 am, in the car, consoling, because tonight’s gonna be a good night…to the hot tub. Lost some numbers, still four strong, and four a.m. comes, and time for bed.

wake. check out time, 20 minutes. Clean up, rally troops. Remember bits and pieces of last night. Move into other room. Leave four girls behind, head into bed with M and C. Snuggle. Boyfriend invasion, asking for coffee orders. God, I love this man. C orders two, but it’s her bday, so she can. Living room to hang out and watch basketball, and chat, and remember more bits and pieces…make some calls, find the city’s building, eat some donuts. Head to the police station, six in tow. Photogenic moment at the Council Chambers, misplaced green parking meter. a few minutes here, then onwards to the Mirage, for a lost card…looks like R isn’t the only one missing things…walking with the slowest security guard ever, into the secret hallways of the Mirage…card back, car full of laughter. “Who the **** is that?” on the radio, and an explanation of street vendors’ gossip.

Lions (no tigers or bears, oh my.) Meet at the lion. Lions, sleeping (18 hours a day!) and onto lunch. A hot dog, some ice cream, a bit of pizza, it sure is vacation. Back to the lion, meet at the lion, back to the hotel. Meet up with the pool crew, pack it up, head out. Twilight, dusk, and jumping photos are.a.must. “…and when i’m with you I feel like I could die and that would be all right” crank up the radio. Loading the cars, and S is on top of the SUV, and B is leaping gracefully through the photo, and everyone else is jumpin’ jumpin. If I ever get the nerve to say hello in this cafe… Checking out, and in the car. Gas up the car, off to The Sign. Newly paved, new parking lot, they’re getting smart, walkie-talkie our locale, and it’s time for more jumpin’ jumpin’. We all smile. Dark now, ready for home, but not before one….or two….last pictures.

Hugs all around. Walkie-talkies passed out, and ready to go. Cars loaded, “Hey guys, do you want to play a game?” Chit-chatter, chit-chatter. “Hey guys, we’re going to stop at Outback Steakhouse in a few minutes, here.” Giggles, that won’t stop. Deliberation, change of plans, and…Chipotle. Eating quickly, still laughing, seemingly influenced, but completely not. Laughing, giggling, “Guys I’m having a great time.” Back in the car.

Chit, chat, chatter all. the. way. home. Squished, smeared kiss. One last photo opportunity. Laughs, and cleaning the car, and some hugs. Driving J home. One last hug. Back to bed, smiling. “I saw you spinning back in time…”

Best weekend ever.

Vegas was bliss.