Priorities and Back Burners

It recently occurred to me that the last four years of my life resembled a swinging pendulum vacillating between a series of things that were priorities for a few months and then swinging on to others. There was never a time where I just rested right in the middle balancing life, work, and love.
I think it's important for the most part to realize -- chances are that's never going to happen. 
Hate to be Debbie Downer here, but some things take priority in your life and require your full focus for a few months and then something else that's been on the back burner catches flame and then you have to focus on that. Kind of runs parallel with the whole theory no one has it all at the same time.
It's hard for people to accept, myself included, but sometimes we can't do everything.

So I've devised a plan. I decided whenever I feel overwhelmed or feel like everything I'm trying to do is getting 80% of my energy; I'll focus on one and give it 100%.
I was telling a friend of mine the other day (when she as well was struggling with this idea that we can't have it all -- at the same time) and sometimes you have to put things on the back burner that you don't want to like your relationships. In her case it was her friendships - I told her listen, you have friends for a reason we're always going to be there and yes we need nurturing and attention as well so we can grow together and not apart, but maybe right now isn't the time you're meant to focus on that aspect in your life. I'm learning you have to appreciate the graces that life gives you - like the really good friends that will speak to you like they miss you, but also talk to you like the time missed didn't change a thing. Or if your job is going really well, let it be! Focus that energy elsewhere. Now I'm not saying don't be a rockstar at your job, I'm saying you can always sense when you can breathe for a minute and take a look at something in your life that isn't going that well.

Take for example, when I first moved to the city my priority was survival - no joke. I had just been scammed trying to sell my bed on craigslist (so I was in the red) and I was moving to a city to start my first job where I didn't know anyone, and was also attempting to foster a new relationship. So yes, it was one of those times where everything was up for grabs and I was praying nothing would fall through. At the top of everything I just wanted to survive, eat and have a place to call home - and that's what I did. I put everything into understanding my new job so I could excel and I tried hard to keep my cat from running around the tiny apartment chasing the bugs... There were things that fell. I ran a marathon that year and didn't train as hard - ran my worst time so far and almost got picked up by the slow truck.
And that was then. But what I have now out of that 'season: priority just make it to tomorrow,' is the ability to know what it's like to be comfortable. Comfortable is the feeling you get when you can relax in a moment, you can be yourself and not that scared, anxious person; and that my friend is the goal.
I know when I write things like this it makes it seem like it's so easy or that I have it figured out, but let's be honest 1.) I don't and 2.) This kind of acceptance will be hard and it also might not always work. Life isn't a rhythm it's more of an undefined span of time with highs, lows, moments of acceleration and pause. But at least if you appreciate and accept, that you have a lot of things that matter to you and that you are only one person; then this small token of advice might help you ride the wave, pick your moment, focus, get comfortable then move on to the next thing.
Don't hate on priorities and don't stress when you have too many that need attention all at once. You have priorities to make you choose what will make you feel balanced if you attend to it in that moment. And when you feel like you're coasting take a look at something you might have set on the back burner a long time ago, maybe it's time that became a priority.

The Strength to Endure: Boston

News is breaking about the suspects in the Boston Marathon bombing. I can't even imagine what that day was like for those runners. I've run four marathons and preparing for my fifth this summer. Let me tell you running 26.2 miles is tough, like really hard - not to mention at Boston when you have to keep a certain pace to finish within your qualifying time. I'm not saying that to brag (ps haven't run Boston), I'm giving you some perspective. These people are probably sprinting 26.2 miles. People say the stress of running a marathon is equivalent to the stress of giving birth. People talk about endurance - withstanding hardship - a marathon is that and you're tired. It's like you get to mile 20 and you think "I'm almost there," but your legs feel like cement and your body is in this constant motion begging yo
u to stop and keep going at the same time. After mile 22 if you pause at all your body doesn't want to start back up. You start to think irrational things like your arm might fall off or you'll fall over a crack in the road because you're not lifting your knees as high. Then you see the finish line - the end in sight...
And for some that moment was stolen. For more than 30,000 people running will never be the same. The relief of finishing an exhilarating race such as the Boston marathon is forever marred by a selfish act. You take a race that makes you feel invincible and tarnish it with destruction.
After Monday's news broke, I had friends and family members asking me if I was okay -- me -- I wasn't even there, I was thought to myself. Their sentiment was "well you're a runner..." and that was it. My family and friends revealed a small piece of evidence that has now permanently connected me to possibly millions of people in this world. And I did feel sad, devastated even for them, but I still can't imagine what that was like. As runners, we can only fathom the level of heartbreak something like this could create. It's kind of like when people say, "I feel you." I could literally feel the hurt of all those runners and people there to support them, but I can't know what that actually feels like.
As a runner I understand the physical exhaustion that probably set in as those runners neared the finish line and they were so tired they probably couldn't even cry; or more so I know there were some that cried hours later once there bodies finally slowed to a resting rhythm and their breath evened. I know that for some running will be a triumph shouldering the adversity of those that can't run anymore. Then there will be others who will fear running because on that day the spirit of endurance was stolen from them.
Running has always been the showcase of strength and character paired with determination and will power. This combination of features created by the heart propels you forward and ignores rules of impossibility and weakness. While, what running means might be similar for most, the reason to run will be different for everyone. But isn't it something to think that for one day, April 15th, everyone who runs will be running for the same reason? It's hard to see it now, but maybe this day in the future will create something that brings us closer together - as runners, a stereotypical steadfast community in practice who push forward through adversity and hurt and pain and we will make it out to run that day. If for nothing else to show you how good we are at enduring a challenge and to keep a promise that we will run again.

Turning to the Decision Makers

Courtesy of Glamour.com

I used to think my bf was being silly when he would say this, but girls really do give bad advice to their friends. It's like a weird version of peer pressure that can mess up your relationships, kill dreams, or make you miss opportunities. There's something about this age where we think we know just enough to advise our friends, yet we forget to encourage them, or we encourage them too much and don't let them make their own choices. Take for example one story I heard about a girl who kind of liked this guy. He made her laugh, they had fun together, there wasn't much to complain about, except one thing. The guy was a little more shall we say "alternative" than what she's use to dating (on paper) or what she imagined she'd date. So basically, he didn't check off the boxes of these arbitrary qualifications of pedigree. But in her mind because he was so off paper, dating this guy would've been a risk. On one hand it could turn out great, on another she could permanently decide to never date guys that fall in that alternative category and go back to her list. When she asked her friends about giving this guy a chance, they shot him down. They presented her with a myriad of differences, painting the uphill battle as something that would definitely happen versus a possibility.
So the girl never dates him. And of course, he turns out to actually be exactly the kind of guy she'd want to date - even possibly marry. But, she'll never know... stupid peer pressure.
Now in retrospect, is taking a risk and seeing it fail in a minor category like dating such a bad idea? I'm going with no, unless this guy was a criminal, dangerous, had bad hygiene -- why not take a chance?
 I have a theory that when girls turn to their friends for advice on these risky (but not that big of a risk) type of life's questions, they look for validation for the small voice in her head saying "don't do it." The girl is looking for her friends to say "listen, it's not worth it, go with what you know." Once the co-sign is there she never takes the risk. And chances are the girls will console her and spare the heart, but spoil the girl. I don't think this has anything to do with being a bad friend. It's a weird way girls process situations and field questions to their friends for support in the fall out or praise in the success. But when you never take that chance ... you just keep a peanut gallery of friends feeding you negative Nancy lines.
Taking a chance on whatever it might be allows you to grow; it allows you to find out what's right for you and what's not. And sometimes you are the only person that can really make that decision. I'm also learning my Dad is a good sounding board because he's known me ... oh my whole life. So when there's something on the line, and you worry that you might fail the only way to definitively know what will happen next is to try. And I know it's easier said than done, but even if you fail there's always something that can be learned from it.
Let's face it none of us are fortunetellers, but maybe encouraging people to follow their hearts is the best answer -- versus picking one way over another.

Naturally creative?

Ugh, I can't even believe I've neglected my blog for three + weeks. Well people, I'm back full force. Promise. This week's topic: Hair.
I rarely can pass a black girl on the street without asking her if her hair is natural, what her regime entails and if she has any idea how I can get hair down my back (without weave). I'm recently so obsessed with my hair because I'm noticing it's not 'retaining length' (that could be a whole other blog). Also I had a stunning revelation at a networking event the other week.
Picture it (yes I've been watching too much golden girls): two weeks ago yours truly was at an ad agency meeting new people. I was introduced to someone else in the creative department who was stunned that I was a copywriter because ... wait for it... I had straight hair and it was relaxed. Apparently the curl in one's tendrils also harbors creative juices. This person mentioned and I quote "well you know, most people that are black copywriters or art directors are natural and show off their curly hair."
Could it be that as diverse talent we've also become typecast into a natural curly hair-loving silhouette? Does my straight hair say straight-laced? Not crazy enough for creativity?
I find it interesting that before anyone even asks me about my experience I'm handed over for a litmus test to determine when I had my last relaxer.

Guess my faux-beach hair doesn't count either... huh?

Here's my theory -- creative people are judged by their ability to exude organized chaos. This goes hand in hand with the idea that creative people are also bad organizers (guess I'm 0-2). And not just black women -- you're supposed to dress down, sacrifice personal composition to fit in and appear as if you're living for the work - style optional. Odd, isn't? But back to black women and the need to declare natural on their resume, do you know why this amazes me so much? Because, natural hair is the second most calculated appearance altering tactic next to makeup. For those of you who do not know the definition of natural hair is un-relaxed (non-chemically processed) hair. It's the original state of your hair, the one you were born with unscathed and ideally undamaged. Now, to get to this original state of your hair there's a journey you must take, which brings me to the conclusion that this natural look is actually completely contrived. I mean it takes me an hour to watch hair tutorials on YouTube and people speed those up! 
The process takes time and the styles are adorable (on most) and because it's so "different" automatically gives you a check on the creative checklist. So, I'm being typecast for having straight hair (SMH). So I'm thinking about having an anti-journey and maybe starting a group for people like me ... if there are any more out there?

Personally, half baked

Ha! Bet you were hoping there's a chocolate chip cookie recipe here. Well ...

I know I tend to write about "figuring it out" and giving sometimes half-baked advice, but that's what's going on right now in my life. I'm 26 for goodness sakes; I'm allowed to be fickle. I think of it this way, life at 26 is like eating partially baked cookies, enjoying the gooey-ness, but worried about the salmonella.
It's like a constant worry that you should've done something differently, but can't worry about it until something bad actually happens.

Lately, on several unrelated accounts, I've been getting a lot of questions about identity - things like who are you? Summarize your life experience. So I thought, if some people are asking me to help figure out who they are and I'm doing the same, why not post about it!
I've read personal statements and profiles and as a writer I'm slightly embarrassed to say it's so hard to write mine!
How do you eloquently and succinctly say:  Listen, I want to make people laugh when I write, but I'm not super funny - witty sometimes, silly even, I like to think I'm the right amount of funny that can be taken seriously, later. I want to be the relief in a tense room, not the source of anxiety. I want to make people understand through my writing, like really get it, you know lump in your throat like your swallowing back pride understand. I want to make people appreciate my ideas and say things like "I wish I thought of that" or "whoever came up with that idea was creative!" But then I get nervous when I have to write something interesting/meaningful/etc. in a birthday card, ugh. I'm the type of person that picks a slow song for their love song then realizes it's about breaking up (circa 2005). I'm also scared of failure, and I hate disappointing people. I like traditions and I'm awful at picking a restaurant.
Some people are just good at those things. Some people are just built that way. So the way I was built, the way you were built when do you get to know what that means?
You know, I spend my day thinking, reading, learning and creating brands and I get home and have no idea what historical elements have shaped and established me! Perpetually figuring it out. Oh, how ironically not funny life can be.
I guess I can appreciate that I learned the things I am not. I am not a math person, I will absolutely give you an incorrect answer if you ask me to do math in my head. I'm not someone who will have a natural hair journey because I'm determined to rally together my relaxed strains into an interesting coiffe (the fight rages on).
So I know a few things about who I am and even more about who I am not, but am I done, fully cooked? Crisp and ready to be paired with a glass of milk? Doubtful. See, it's not about figuring it out right now, it's about believing there's more out there for you, and being (borderline) selfishly-determined. It's like at 26 you know you can bake these cookies all the way and they will be good, or you might burn them -- who knows. But maybe it's best to enjoy them in their gooey-semi-raw stage. A transition that can feel close to the real thing, but definitely not finished. Perhaps, there's something awesomely delicious about half-baked.
Maybe, that's just what we need (minus the salmonella of course)!

Apt 45 Part 2: The reality of Washington Heights

As the much needed fail of the MTV Washington Heights reality show moves into its next week of pointless drama, I give you part 2 of Apt 45.

One thing about this year is that the resolution gym rush occurred in February. All the people who promised to be gym rats starting January 1 are delivering on that promise in February; delayed start, but can't hate the intention. In the spirit of embodying the New Year Spirit in February, I'd like to tell you about the best of the worst New Year's Eve/Day stories ever experienced by this here writer -- in apt 45.
Remember 2009? It was a big one for me. It was the year I finished college, moved to New York and moved in with a crazy person. For almost four months I had to play a challenging game of let the hood rat run around until she evicts herself. The game goes something like this: hood rat does something crazy, Ohio girl attempts to let it go and documents the occurrence -- and repeat. My goal was to gather enough altercations (unprovoked) to convince the remaining tenants that life would really be much better without her. Well, this proved to be so much easier once I discovered the rat was a squatting one -- she wasn't paying rent. Determined with the lack of work ethic to not settle for a job and therefore not have any money for rent, my roommate squatted, but like a sitting duck she had to be nice to me and she had to be smart about her actions; the latter was something I certainly had an upper hand on. So as a self-declared master of passive aggressive activity, I began to sting small arguments with the venom of, "well I'm paying rent so ..." The veracity of my statement and the amazing teeter of the power structure let me sleep better at night (even with the ridiculous radio playing).
Now that you have a sense of the tension that broached the apartment, picture: December 31, 2009 a joyous night that celebrates the past and designates positivity for the future. My sane roommate and my bf are getting ready for a night out together. The crazy one comes by to let us know that she's having a party tonight and that it should be over by like 2. Annoyed of the idea that the apartment might be infected with her hood rat friends, we reside to agreeing that being back by 3am will give people plenty of time to leave and we'll be back without having to experience it ...

Boy were we wrong.

Enter 3:15am New Year's Day 2010.
As I walk out the elevator towards our apartment I hear music blaring, but an empty apartment! I'm thinking great we missed them, now off to bed. As I was quickly corrected, her party wasn't starting until 3:30. The level of anger cannot be explained in this post, but just think about narrowing escaping a really bad situation only to find out that you were still in the wrong place at the wrong time, in fact it was your living quarters. Seething, I return to bed hoping for the party to be over as soon as humanely possible.
7:30am ... Party is still going, music, drunk people, running up and down the hallway, knocking on doors while we pretend to sleep, and the kicker: my roommate was nowhere to be found...  I hadn't slept, the cat was hungry and I was beyond done. I go outside to feed him and am accosted by someone I could only describe as a misdirected Tim Burton character.

That I believe is what they call the straw that broke the camel's back, I succumbed to calling the police on my own apartment.

I mean, who has to disguise their voice as a scared neighbor to get the police to come to their apartment and break up the party ...? This lady. In apt 45.


Don't worry it can't get worse than this, right?
Stay tuned for more ...

The Escape.

Apparently there's a mass exodus from New York. It can affect those in their mid-twenties, through the early thirties. Reader, beware.
Symptoms include: restlessness and a sudden impulse to see what else is outside of New York.
Yes. This is epidemic is true, in the last two weeks I have either experienced or heard approximately seven people in search of pastures (greener or not) gather their U-HAUL and hit the road, Jack.
And, yes these folks are friends so in some respects my fear of this epidemic slowly infiltrating my inner circle is like a animal-lover with arachnophobia cornering a spider; terrified, but compassionate that they need to live to.

It's hard to digest the idea that your dream of New York and the reason why people come here doesn't satisfy the appetite of others. I can't think of a time when I didn't want to live in New York, I mean from movies always staged in this city that seemed to stem love and endless promotions, who wouldn't want to live here?
I remember in high school; when I went through my contrary period (aka hanging out with bad influences) and I had this archenemy, let's call her Esheda. Now, Esheda was what someone could call pretty, but her attitude was so ugly. She used to prank call my house, threaten to start a fight with me at school so my record was scarred, oh and my favorite she use to taunt that no matter what "I couldn't be her." Little did this girl know I knew the kind of person she was and her status at school and empty threats were the last thing I wanted. That year, I decided - I'm moving to a place where insecurity isn't the motivator, but ambition is - I'm going to New York. And once I had that in my mind, her yelling at me in the hallway, or teasing me I just heard those Charlie Brown teachers "womp, womp, womp womp womp..."I had to stay focus, a pit stop in Charlottesville for some down south education and I was in the home stretch.
So I guess like any pseudo-small town girl, New York was a city to experience everything that wasn't my normal. I just knew I was going to be the displaced Shaker Heights girl that kept her 216-number, but saddled up with an attitude and coffee permanently in her hands walking through New York streets. I had to believe that the anxiety, better known as high school drama, wouldn't pull me down. But, you know, that's just my story on why I came here - I can't speak for anyone else and clearly my experience was unique. So, for the friends that do choose to move along and find their normal, discover what their everyday will look like, I can't be mad, I can't be terrified. I just have to hope my everyday matches what you see yours as being - happy, successful and exactly what you'd want to escape to.

A Story About Sandy

A natural disaster -- not something I thought I would experience. I mean, Ohio had its snowstorms, but Shaker Schools almost NEVER closed. I mean never. So let me try to summarize for you the four days of preparing, experiencing and recovering from Sandy.

Day One: I'll label this as Sunday. I woke up early to a gloomy overcast day to run a 5 miler in central park. Successfully guilt-tripping my boyfriend into joining the cold masses of spectators at 8:30am we headed to the park at 72nd street. I stood among thousands of people as they prepared for a countdown to marathon Sunday exactly one week from that day (myself excluded). A promise from the announcer bellowed through the crowds that they have never postponed the marathon and they won't do it this year even with Sandy on the way. An encouraged crowd takes off -- I finished in a little under 43 minutes and headed to bed and then further prepare for the Sandy takeover.

Day One (evening): The bf comes over with his stash of Sandy survival tools. We cook as much food as we can with hopes of power (and microwave use) but worse case we can heat things on a gas stove (a pseudo-luxury I never knew about in Ohio, gas stoves, who knew). We spent the evening watching scary movies and eating the candy I bought for the trick or treaters. My state of mind was anticipatory, desperately checking facebook and Twitter for Sandy updates; entertaining myself with tongue in cheek remarks from friends all over the city about being prepared with candy and two bottles of water. And reading endless articles about how not to prepare for a hurricane and some of my friends doing just those very things. 7:00pm rolls around and the subways and public transportation have been shut down citywide. People were evacuated in lower Manhattan.

Day Two: I wake up to check email to see if work is still on, offices are closed pretty much all over in preparation for the storm. So I cook more...contemplate getting a pizza around 5:00pm just as the storm is picking up (unconvinced by a poll of friends and an adamant boyfriend) we move on to a prepared dinner and more scary movies. I start to feel like I'm just waiting for the next meal - what to have? Will we have power? How much weight am I gaining by being this sedentary!?
Then the wind really starts...
Granted I probably shouldn't have watched all those scary movies, but this wind had me spooked! It literally made sounds I thought only a sound machine could -- leaves being ripped from trees, air whipping around corners in a race to the next block. Crazy!
Now the events of the following days I can only attest to being witness to via social media. Fortunately, Harlem was spared and I was able to keep abreast with the situation from afar.

Day Two (evening):
Flooding started in lower Manhattan, reports online people started to lose power.

Credit LiveWire

The front of a building down the street from where I worked completely came off.

Credit: DailyNews

A power plant exploded...

The epicenter of the east coast and a considerable amount of people were left without power.

Day Three: The jokes on facebook about ill-preparedness ceased, due to lack of cell phone power and stuff got real. People without roofs, cars floating in the street, no water, no power, walking miles to charge their phones... you get it. I can't imagine what those in lower Manhattan went through, I admit I was among the lucky part of upper Manhattan, but the beating the city took was something that at the very least made you feel the ripple effect. You were stuck wherever you were -- couldn't even help those in the lower parts, since public transportation was still out.

Day Four: Present Day. Bus service started, power below 34th street still out. Things beginning to take shape. Announced limited service on subway lines! Posts on FB look more like "let me know if you need a place to shower." And updates to friends and family inquiring about their well-being.

I know natural disasters happen all over the place, and this probably won't be our last with climate change, etc., but the thought that Sandy was still 400 miles away and did the damage it did to the city is unreal. Companies, heck industries are out for days. It's not like I'm worried we won't rebound, we will; besides this city is built on a solution-oriented spirit. Know how I can tell? The marathon is still on... As day one started, the announcer called it and months of training for over 47,000 people will be tested on Sunday without postponing or plan Bs to be introduced. You can bet the run through the city will be even more precious this weekend. They'll once again see a city rebounding and millions of people forfeiting the idea of giving up -- because it's New York -- and that's what we do, we find solutions, be creative and keep making things happen. Keep your heads up everyone; we're almost there!

You're So Cray

I've confessed to this readership before I'm a little anxious - a list making, worry wart, that analyzes a situation to death with the best of them. And I know I'm not alone, in fact I can name eight kinds of crazy that I've been exposed to on a daily basis. Here's what I don't understand - I succumb to the craziness of my friends because we're similar; the whole pot calling the kettle black thing, but what I don't understand is why guys put up with crazy girls!
I mean red flags galore! Guys just don't know when enough is enough...
When a girl shows up at your door to show her new tattoo of your name in Chinese letters... she's cray.
When a girl yells at you in front of her friends and then breaks down crying asking why you're so mean...that girl is cray.
When a girl gets mad when you want to get off the phone to watch a game, or show ... and then proceeds to call your phone nineteen times because she sees you tweeting so you must not be fully engrossed with the show...she's cray.
When a girl wants to know your income before she knows your last name ... must I say it? She's cray.
When a girl calls you drunk to tell you she's drunk and around guys for no reason at all but to make you mad...that's just cray!

I could go on and on -- there are numerous and infinite examples of the craziness of girls can bestow on boys and the list continues to grow - because guys put up with it.
Here's my idea, guys put up with the crazy because they like the idea of the taming of the shrew and playing the hero. First - the shrew. The taming or "domesticating" the crazy means you've conquered it. The man has successfully passed the bar and into normalcy a place only found on the border of sane and rational relationships.  Secondly, the hero; this one is obvious, men secretly (or not so secretly) believe women need to be saved, protected and cared for. The crazy that exudes is a sign of the level of how hurt she is from a relationship prior. So, by staying the course and discovering the interworking of what makes her crazy, he'll know the secret on how she can be saved.
Crazy right? Stupid? Or the making of love?
Who knows, but after looking at this do you feel so bad about being cray?
Nope.

Happy, Slash

I've been in an information-gathering mood of late. Talking to people about their experiences, learning about different ways to live and dream, and taking advice that inspire how I can achieve my goals. And then, I stumbled across an article the other day in AdAge - an interview with Nancy Hill, that spoke about my generation's talent pool and how we present ourselves and self identify with occupations. The article calls us the "slash" generation... meaning when you ask someone today what they do for a living, you get an answer similar to "well I am ___ slash I do ____ slash also ____" a long list of qualifications. No longer do titles and nondescript credentials satisfy this generation.

It's like, if our personal stories and qualifications exceed the standard answer then it leaves us with no choice but to over-divulge information. The article calls this a "collective experience" essentially we identify ourselves not only as one thing or occupation, but as multiple experiences that add up together to make one complete picture.  But is this schizophrenic passion to be great at different things revealing my generation's inability to commit? Or is it a result of a bumpy path triggered by a less than desirable job market?

I can only say that in my experience, I have only wanted to do and be one thing -- a great writer. Now, if someone asks me what I do today -- am I a slash participant? Initially, yes, because part of my job now might be writing, but it's also managing projects. Until one day, I met someone and I gave them the slash schpeal and they told me I should stop watering down who I am with other attributes that hardly describe my interests and dreams. So, that's a piece of advice I took.
I sometimes feel like our generation over-compensates for their current positions because they are not doing what they dream of and therefore add specialties and skill sets to a seemingly straightforward answer.
It's one of those things, if you are living your dream -- then what else is there to reveal? This is all a part of that trite saying when you start to do what you're passionate about it stops feeling like work.

So instead of people in my generation being happy, they are happy slash ...

So I'm going to leave you with words of wisdom from another friend of mine. He said to me, decide today what you want to be the greatest at and make a declaration, for example, "I will be the greatest female creative writer of my generation." Now, whenever you're thinking about a decision or what to do, think, "what would the greatest female creative writer of her generation do?" And then act. So, slash generation -- pick your greatness today and lose the slash anything that looks like a division sign has to be divvying up your passion.

13 Things You Should Know The 13.1

Last weekend I ran my first half marathon the Philly Rock n' Roll Half. I can't believe I waited this long to run a half. It's a great distance, something I encourage all of my dear readers to try or at least support someone who is.
So, I wanted to put together a running list of things that runners, wanna-try runners and interested parties can learn about running races in general and some things specific to this distance. One thing marathon running makes you forget is you could run half as far and feel just as great finishing. But, now that I've run a half, I realized some things about running races that are true across the board (and not just added torture to a marathon course).

Key Running Lessons From a 13.1:

1. You can always run two times as far as your furthest run. Trust your training. I'm a believer when it comes to races less than or equal to 13.1 miles, your training should carry you through the finish line. However if you have doubts because you've never run the full distance, just remember if you can run half of a half, you can push the rest of the way through (thank goodness for adrenaline and fans).
2. You will always end a race on an uphill. They say runners are the only people that think optimistically about hills because we know, what goes up must come down. Well now you can add this joy to your hill-loving, once you run uphill at then end, chances are the finish line is REALLY close. Why? You might ask, courses end on an uphill to force you to slow down slightly so your sprint finish doesn't result in injury.
3. You will always have fans cheering. The thing about a marathon is no one is going to wait around 4+ hours until you finish, finding you every 3 miles. But, in a half marathon there are fans throughout the course! This just means you have a constant pulse of motivation to push you along.
4. Bring your watch. The avid runner wouldn't even second-guess this, but what I didn't know is a corral system will sometimes result in a staggered start. This means each corral gets its own count down before the gun. Now, runners beware of stagger starts without a watch because it will leave you doing math the whole time to know what your time is. While it might keep your mind busy, it'll drive you nuts and you'll forget to focus on your plan for the race.
5. Don't stop to pee unless you really must. No matter what your planned time is, most half courses cut off at four hours, HOLD IT. You can make it. You'll thank me later when your time is 6 minutes faster.
6. Know what your body needs for hydration. I'm a strong believer in no artificial hydration (Gatorade, Gu, food etc) before mile 7. Studies show if you are properly hydrated your body doesn't need electrolyte restoration until after 1 hour of running. Every runner to each its own, but just know if your training didn't include you stopping for Gatorade at mile 3.2, you probably don't need it now (unless you weren't properly pre-hydrated).
7. Have a reward. Yes, you ran a half marathon you deserve something - anything you want. Even if it's disco fries, because you essentially burned 1300 calories, so go ahead, enjoy. But seriously, rewards help you see the end through tough spots in the race and can only make you go faster!
8. Don't look in the porta-potties. Self-explanatory. 
9. Don't do anything new on race day. This even means the amount of stretching you do, what you eat for breakfast, or tying your shoes a different way. DON'T DO IT.
10. Have a plan. For me, race plans are critical, you have to know when it's going to be okay to slow down and speed up, this is something you should practice in your training or be able to gauge from your tempo runs.
11. If you don't have a fan there, make a friend. At the end all you want to do is high-five someone, well if you didn't make a friend in the two or three hours you were running your runner's high will drop before it should. Besides, it's easy, you already have something in common :)
12. Have a go to mantra. Something that's sing-songy that you can repeat in your head to make it through "I hate my life" moments in the race. (This is where you can repeat to yourself "disco fries, disco fries")
13. Run for everyone who cannot.  You will become a part of a select group of individuals that finish a half marathon, but unfortunately there are people with the gumption, but not the ability to do what you are doing. So, run for them AND run for yourself.  If you let their hope guide you along, you'll never run out of inspiration.

AND FINALLY .1 There's just a little more once you hit the 13 mile marker (and yes they show you) before you're done, so don't slow down too soon!

Oh, What's Your Name Again?

No, this post is not about my pet peeve (people who reintroduce themselves 1,000,0000 times, no matter how many times you meet).
This post is about the select group of people in America that have difficult names and must assume an alias at Starbucks. You know, the Tarkinsh'a(s) and Eglantine(s) of the world, the kind of name spell check never recognizes. Well instead of enduring the mass embarrassment of irritable morning coffee drinkers while they spell their name - they simply pick a new one!

My favorite story is one of my friend, we'll call her Dominicah. Each morning she chooses to go by Darla when ordering her venti specialty coffee. Well, one morning she's waiting for her coffee in the busy hustle of morning workers and the barista calls her name "DARLA, VENTI WHITE MOCHA." Like normal she grabs her cup and assumes her regular identity as she walks towards work. Halfway down the block she hears someone screaming "Darla, Darla!" Confused and concerned she just hijacked a drink she turns around to notice a boy running towards her. The boy introduces himself, says he sees her every morning and asks for Darla's number (very rom-com of him) ... when she gives it to him, she returns to her walk and realizes that this boy doesn't know her real name!
So, Dominicah is patiently waiting for this boy to call and is wondering how do you gracefully tell someone you just met that you lied about your name? You could continue using the alias if he was a dud, but what happens if he's your future bf? After a poll of friends and several exchanged flirtatious texts with him it was deemed too late to come clean and she chooses not to reveal her real identity. Besides, for her it was kind of a thrill to be incognito and reinvent herself simply because her name is chronically hard to spell and comprehend (and she just turned 25...I empathize it was a major identity crisis year for yours truly). So, my friend went on two dates with this guy under her alias, but of course it didn't work out after she was forced to jokingly confess, when he casually mentioned she was impossible to find on Facebook.
Oh, the shame of a name and the challenge of personalized drink orders at Starbucks makes for a failed place to pick up anyone. Just goes to show, the only good examples of an alias are writers that create new names because they are trying to write in a different gender and hope to avoid stereotyping -- and superheroes.