I speak the language, but I don’t understand.

I went for a run today with a friend who works in the office across the hall. It was her second outside run of the year, having spent the winter running on a treadmill in the gym. During the non-icy parts of the year we often go for lunchtime runs together, as we both do about the same distance and speed.

Before setting out on the run today, she cautioned me that she wasn’t quite up to our usual distance because she is transitioning to outside running, which can be a little more challenging (Take note. That was hint number one). We were about ten or fifteen minutes out when we got to a decision point in the route. Straight would take us over to the lake shore where we could run with Kodi off leash and have an enjoyable crushed rock path to run on. Right would take us back through the city on asphalt but would get us back much sooner.

I asked which direction she wanted to go.

Runner friend: “I’d prefer to go to the right… but it’s up to you” (hint number two)
Me: “Well great! Cause I’d like to go straight and hit that nice crushed rock trail!”

Straight we went. We crossed the street and got to the other side. Here she said, “Well, we could still turn right and head back through the city… but it’s up to you.”

That’s when I realized that we were speaking the same language, but profoundly different dialects.

When someone says, “I’d like to do (insert verb here), but it’s up to you,” I take that as, “Whatever your idea is, it’s great and we should TOTALLY go for it, oh mighty wise one.” Mostly, once I hear, “It’s up to you” the decision is made. I have already forgotten the first part of the statement, which is usually, “I’d prefer to do this, but…”

After countless misunderstandings with Chris, I finally realized that in the Midwest when people say, “I’d like to do (insert verb here)”, that means, “I really, really, really, really, REALLY, OMFG really, want to do this, and if we don’t, I will know that you are a selfish jerk. But I won’t say anything because I am too nice. Probably I will bake you one less cookie next time I bake a batch for you and THAT will demonstrate the severity of my wrath.”

At the risk of oversimplification and coming off as extremely culturally insensitive, I want to share what I have learned over the many years of being married to a Midwesterner: They have opinions.

Really.

I know this may come as a shock, and it certainly shocked me too, but it is the truth. Here is more wisdom I have learned from Chris over the course of our marriage:

When Midwesterners TRULY don’t care about something, they don’t even bother expressing an opinion. When they have a mild preference, they don’t bother expressing an opinion, either. When they have a pretty strong preference you might hear (or might not) hear a vagueish opinion-like statement expressing a kind-of-ish preference. To East Coasters, this may sound like an expression of neutrality
(or *cough, cough*- sissiness)

It is often only when they have a VERY strong preference that you may hear it verbalized. For example, “I’d prefer to go to the right… but it’s up to you.”

After her second comment, the light bulb flashed on and I understood that she was not really saying it was up to me. I finally got that she was too nice to tell me that she wanted to head back to the office and that if we went any further she would be forced to take out my knees with the hard chunks of gray ice piled along the road. I corrected with a, “Great idea! I never run this route, anyway, it’ll be good for me.” We headed back to the office and have a date to run again next week, so I think my last minute Midwest-East Coast translation must have been successful.

Still, I could use one of those real-time translators like they have in the UN. It’d sure keep me out of trouble from time to time.

Keep calm, keep going, keep runnin'

Caught the bus this morning and chatted with a neighbor the whole ride into the office. I love taking the bus. I get to knit or read or meditate. I don’t need to worry about the traffic or the snowy roads. And sometimes, like today, I get to talk to folks who I see around our condo but don’t have the opportunity to really talk to. I come into the office feeling sure that the world is a pretty good place, after all.

Of course, actually GETTING on the bus is another matter. This morning I remarked to my neighbor as I arrived at the bus stop (out of breath, as usual) that I have no idea how long it takes me to walk to the bus stop, because I have never been in a position to try it. The only way I even know HOW to get to the bus stop is through a full on sprint, while jacking up my pant legs and holding on to my bag for dear life, willing the contents of my overstuffed messenger bag not to spill all over the parking lot. This could all be remedied by me leaving five minutes earlier in the morning. But I guess I love the excitement of chasing the bus down and banging on the windows as it rolls past me.

When I was in high school, my mom and I would ride together, as she taught and still teaches at the high school. I was always the hold up, and would often race out of the house and leap into the car just before she pulled out of the driveway in exasperation. Once she actually left me, getting all the way down the street and to the stop sign before seeing me in the rearview mirror, sprinting down the middle of the road, frantically waving my arms and yelling. She took pity on me and paused long enough for me to fling myself into the passenger seat and heave a huge teenaged sigh.

Well, Mom, I know you were trying to teach me a lesson. And I have learned it.

Never rely on a mode of transportation that I can’t chase down. And much like Forrest Gump, I just kept running…

Today ends my first week as Executive Director. Got a meeting with our Executive Committee today and then someone is coming in this afternoon to check out our office space. One way to stabilize the organization is to increase revenue. The other is to bring down expenses. We are trying to sublet all but two of the offices in our suite. I hope it goes well.

My mantra for the coming year is “Keep calm, keep going.” I read it on a coffee mug somewhere and it seems appropriate. So, keep calm, keep going, and keep running. It keeps you in shape for when that uppity bus drive tries to leave on time.

Rar.

Well, I did it. And by that I mean, I over did it.

It was 70 degrees on Tuesday and I was all, Oh, I should go for a run! I am going for a run! Why don’t I run home instead of driving home? Then I get the commute out of the way and I get to run! I was all Yippee! And I’m SO smart! And look at me running home because I am an environmentalist and a runner and so very smug.

So very, very smug.

I managed to cripple myself on that seven mile run. Old running shoes. Slightly longer distance than usual. Angry running gods. Probably all of these things. I do not know. The forces converged upon me and by the end of the run, and certainly by the next morning, I had one solid case of Achilles Tendonitis.

Damn it. Double damn it.

It means at least a week of no running. Which means at least a week of bad attitude and muddy headedness. And because I can’t think clearly and am in a general funk, I will cop out of my blog post and share yet another poem from last year’s class. It is about running, because if I can’t do it I might as poeticize about it. I think I made that word up, but I am going with it, because if it is not a word, it damn well ought to be one. Challenge me on this. I dare you. I will eat your face. Rar.

The poetry assignment was to take a line from another student’s poem from a different assignment and use it as a start to our poem. This is what I wrote.

The Magic of the Mist
The magic of the mist
The glory of the morning
Out for a run
I feel the cold air on my face
Contrast with the warm breath I exhale
I run because I need to think
To unscramble my brain
I run to feel free
To feel awake and alive
To embrace the world
But on my own terms
I run to escape into
The magic of the mist.

Running is magical for me. It is transformative. It makes me a better, calmer, happier person. It is wild and primal and meditative all at once and when I am all done, I can think clearly and I feel… what? Happy? Balanced? Calm? Yes. All of those things.

So I look longingly at my running shoes today, and chastise myself. For both overdoing it when I knew I should have stopped that day at mile three or four. But also, for not getting out on all the other days that I could have. For not seizing every opportunity I had to get out the door and feel the calming breeze push past my cheeks as I chugged along. For thinking that I could run another time, instead of lacing up my shoes and getting out right then. Who knows when you’ll get injured or even hit by a bus?

Run- and live- at every opportunity.

Now I am going to drown in my self pity and a piece of chocolate cake the size of my head.

Better Living Through Running

Someday I hope to be a better mother, a better spouse, a better citizen. Right now, though, I am afraid I am failing at all three of these things. My parents were in town this week. Rosie had surgery and they were here to help take care of her while she convalesced. And me? Hi Mom and Dad! Glad you’re here! Nevermind this small matter of Rosie having an organ removed. Could you watch my kids for me? Chris is feeling a little burned out and needs some time to himself. And I don’t have time for that shit.

So… work started this week, and I have never, ever been so stressed in my life. I feel as though I have just been swept up in a strong undercurrent and I am tumbling and rolling in the crashing waves as they sweep me along.

I just can’t seem to fix all the problems that keep popping up. I feel like the little Dutch boy with my fingers plugged into the holes of the dam, and I can’t keep up. There is so much work to do at the office that I can’t get it done, but I can’t not get it done because it involves keeping the entire organization afloat, and I can’t stay later because I don’t have the extra time to give, but even if I could, I couldn’t, because we don’t have the funds to pay me to do that, anyway. And if I lose my job because we go under, how are we going to make ends meet? And without insurance, what are we going to do? Shit, shit, shit.

And of course, there is the unrelenting backbreaking load of school work. There’s always school work. Every night when I get home Jay asks, “Mama have school work to do?”. Yes, I say. Because Mama always has school work to do. Because I suck. And I suck again. And I just keep sucking.

Today I made myself a cup of tea. As I waited for the water to heat up, the teapot started to scream. And I thought, me too. That is EXACTLY how I feel right now. I am edgy. Impatient. Humorless. Screeching for no apparent reason. And doing my very best not to boil over, so help you god, do NOT make me boil over up in here or I will lose it on yo' ass. Er... see what I mean?

It's why I run. When I feel like I am about to reach that point, the point where I start to scream and steam shoots out of my ears and I am THIS CLOSE to boiling over, I throw on my running shoes and get the hell out of wherever I am. Because it’s about to get ugly. And I run. And run and run and run.

I run until my vision clears up, until I stop yelling in my head, until my chest heaves, my legs tremble and I am back under control. And through my breathlessness, I can breathe again. I am calm again. I am in control. And for one more day things fall into their proper place in my life, in the universe.

With six more months of school, I'm thinking I should buy stock in Saucony.