Clearly, UNARGUABLY, Not My Fault

After not drinking the bad coffee in Atlanta, I boarded my 4 ish hour flight back to Tucson.

I had not shaved my left leg for more than a week; I had not showered that evening; I had not slept that evening; I was not wearing make-up; I was wearing workout pants that probably smelled like sweat, because I had not washed them for more than a week; I sat down, put my headphones on, willed that “Eff off” onto my forehead (you know, the one from Hitch that my friends claim I lack) and I LITERALLY prayed that God would seat me next to a frumpy, middle-aged woman who was too caught up reading The Fault in Our Stars to even think about talking to me.

Instead, the person who took the seat next to me was a 33-year-old aviator who was born in Jamaica, currently living in Milwaukee, but making his first trip to Tucson to try to figure out his impending move here for work. It was evidently going to be his job to fix our airport and help it grow an extra terminal.

He was nice and undaunted by the “Eff off” and Annie Lennox screaming through my headphones. He kept talking to me even though I kept trying not to talk to him. He also laughed at me and tried to explain that airplanes are super safe, because I sometimes grip the armrest violently when a plane I’m on makes one of those unexpected, roller coaster drops that gets my stomach.

Eventually, he asked me if I’d show him around Tucson that evening because he only had 24 hours to make up his mind. I sort of lied, telling him I was going to spend time with friends, which was true ish, because I did spend time with them, but had plenty of daylight left after getting lunch with Lauren and the kiddos.

Then, he asked for my phone number.

I told him that I wasn’t comfortable giving it out.

He said that he understood.

Like an hour later, just as we were landing, he asked if he’d be able to see me again.

I said no.

He looked sad, so I told him that I’ve recently been less careful than I ought to be.

He said he was sorry.

He waited a few minutes, then told me that he really just wanted friends, and I’d described my friends in a way that made him feel like he could connect with them. He was concerned about making the move to Tucson without knowing anyone… which could’ve been a creeper tactic, but I also felt for him.

So I gave him my email address.

He offered me a heartfelt thank you.

And it is not my fault!

NOT MY FAULT! NOT MY FAULT!

I don’t know why men are into me lately, but it’s not because of anything I’m doing, so don’t blame me. I could not have made myself less appealing or less approachable before that flight.

The Obligatory Phoenix Post

It’s been nearly a year since I’ve been to Phoenix… okay that isn’t entirely true, because I ran Ragnar here just a little over a month ago. Still, it’s been nearly a year since I stopped and “did” Phoenix, which is much too long to go without seeing the Johnsons and relaxing in the way that only Phoenix and its inhabitants can get me to relax. I suspect that if I lived here, it wouldn’t be quite the same, but there’s a time -slowing-down thing and an “Oh, right – that’s who I am!” thing that both happen when I’m here. Maybe it’s the solitude and quiet I get on the drive up, or the fact that I haven’t been to Starbucks much at all this year (except for the two times I’ve been this weekend) and I’ve forgotten what it feels like to just sit in a public place without putting pressure on myself.

Since I was here last, I’ve struggled a bit more than it probably looked like I struggled (to you and to the folks who see me on a daily basis).  I often forget that no one knows all of the thoughts in my head and I get frustrated when I have to explain them (because it’s all so obvious to me and I expect that everyone in my life is at least half Betazoid). As I look back over the time since I was last here, from the outside, all that’s visible is the races I’ve run, the books I’ve read, the working I’m always doing, the ducks I adopted, the writing I’ve written, etc… Realistically, I’m constantly considering quitting my job, and I’d give just about anything to get out of the country. I’ve stopped going to Starbucks – almost cold-turkey – and although I have the perfect setup at home for making Caramel lattes, I’m much less caffeinated than I was the case a year or so ago, only really enjoying a nice cup o’ joe once a week or so. I also stopped sleeping with my phone in my room anymore, started going to a weekly yoga class and I’m even thinking about getting a bicycle so that I no longer have to drive my car. Generally speaking, all of these small changes indicate how much, “I miss Mayberry, sitting on the the porch drinking ice cold cherry Coke…” But I suspect I’ll grow progressively more like this with each year that I age, and before you know it I’ll be telling stories about how I used to walk to school 4 miles in the snow – uphill both ways… in the desert?

I was considering skipping Phoenix Comicon this year, because it’s gotten MUCH too popular and I hate crowds just a bit. However, after this 24 hours, I’m convinced that I need to get up here, if only just to remember who I am and to accept that I like driving 2 over the speed limit even though everyone else drives more like 12 over. Also, I like arriving and secretly wandering alone downtown, peaking into BOB (Bank One Ballpark) regardless of the fact that it has been renamed to be Chase Stadium. And, okay, I get that I’m probably about to be scolded for wandering alone, but there are very few things as awesome as wandering, and it doesn’t feel as much like wandering if there are others with me… or even if others know where I am. Also, I need Dave and Lisa. It always mystifies me that I do, because they’re much more perfect than I ever feel, so I usually expect not to fit in, but in one of the few times when I enjoy expectations not meeting reality, I usually fit just fine. And I often feel a bit more perfect myself when I leave… not in the sense that I’m actually perfect, but in the sense that I feel a bit more Mayberry. The hustle-bustle doesn’t feel as all-consuming, and I don’t feel as betrayed by life or God when things don’t work out like they ought to.

Small Town Living

 

 

Garden gnome with wheelbarrow (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

When I was young, I harbored plans of small town (Gilmore Girl-esque) life with porch swings, lemonade and fireflies. However, as I’ve grown older, I realize that I’m better suited to joining the circus as a trapeze artist than I am to live in a small town.

 

In small towns…

 

8. Things close at Five. I like to do things in the evening. I like to run to the store and get peanut butter M & Ms at Ten PM when I get the craving. I like sitting at a coffee shop for a few hours after work sometimes, but the good coffee shop closes at Five.

 

7. There is a strict dress code that is not flattering to females, and I nearly always feel judged fro my clothing choices. The shorts are long and worn up around the rib cage, as are the skirts; the dressing up clothes are frumpy Walmart purchases with terrible prints on them; extreme casualness and fancyness are avoided (which is really all I like to wear). There is no leaving the house without doing your hair.

 

6. Outsiders are guilty until proven innocent. I was out walking once in a small town, and I smiled at a lady who was working in her yard, and she frowned at me, then asked a series of rude accusations… “What are you doing here? Who are you? Who are you related to? … Oh, you’re related to Clara, well hi there!” Her demeanor went from rude and hostile to sugary and fake the second she realized that I would be accountable to someone if I kicked her garden gnomes.

 

5. No one knows how to drive. There are two extremes: the fast and the furious OR Sunday morning meanderers. Also, no one uses their turn signals, which makes them unpredictable and dangerous. Also, they don’t adjust to the situation… they expect the situation to adjust to them. In a super-crowded parking lot, I was being really careful not to run over any children or old ladies, but everyone else was flying through there as if they were on a four-lane high-way.

 

4. Pets wander freely. People often have such huge yards that they let their creatures out into unfenced areas and they do what they want. This makes me believe I’m going to run over them. Also, I just generally don’t like animals showing up unexpectedly. Animals are stupid and sometimes hostile. Therefore, I prefer them to be leashed or fenced in.

 

3. People like to be lax about time and plans. They like to sort of mosey through the days with a vague sense of this needs to be done, or I might do that today. I like plans and schedules. I don’t enjoy sitting on the porch as a social activity. I like to sit on the porch as a no-pressure activity, but it seems like porch-talk involves social expectations that I don’t understand.

 

2. There aren’t very many tattoos or piercings. This probably goes along with the dress code, but I hate that having tattoos and a nose ring somehow gives people cause to question my character. Usually, they come to the conclusion that I’m a perfectly fine and normal girl, but there’s that initial moment of, “Is that a tattoo?” [Brow furrows in disapproval and concern… if she’s got a tattoo, just think of all the other shenanigans she must be getting into!]

 

1. There is veiled gossip and judgment that hurts my feelings. There is a lot of, “Well, I told so-and-so that doing it that way was a bad idea. You just can’t trust BLANK TYPE OF PERSON (homosexuals, Mexicans, blacks, etc…).” Or “Did you hear about Stevie Joe Freebush? I could have forgiven him once, but he just keeps on a-doing BLANK SORT OF ILLEGAL, IMMORAL, or A-TYPICAL ACTIVITY.” And sometimes, unfounded assertions that, “I think she must be doing drugs.”

 

I Survived Ragnar SoCal 2013!!!!

Hello, dear readers!

This year’s Ragnar Relay was the freakin’ most torturous race I’ve ever done, but I survived!

For the past two years, I’ve run the Ragnar Del Sol, but this year, our team switched it up by doing So Cal, and it was horrendous-amazing.

Horrendous Factors:

The desert is flat… so there is no possible way to train for California’s hills

I tore my quad a little over a month ago, and couldn’t completely train for my longest distances

CA traffic sucks, so we couldn’t support our runners very well (my van obviously hates me because they didn’t stop for me at all!)  🙂

The runners who sign up for SoCal seem to be real runners, whereas the ones at Del Sol are often just crazies who don’t have anything better to do for a weekend, so they were all really fast and no fun at all. Ragnar is all about decorating your van and covertly tagging other teams’ vans, acting like a teenager, cheering loudly for every runner you see, and every other stupid-jubilance you can imagine, but serious runners don’t do all of that as much, and they mostly just run and ignore their responsibility for bringing the fun.

I was running longer distances than I have in the past, so the other teams put real runners on my part of the course and they all ran past me… one girl passed me on every. single. leg. I ran.

It didn’t seem as hot as it was, so we had a case of dehydration that ended us up at the first-aid tent. There was also some vomiting by a couple of team members and a possible broken foot.

Joseph didn’t run!!!!!!!!! He was in my van for every other Ragnar I’ve run, and without him, I’m the only returning member of our inaugural 2011 van 2. Also, there was no one to sing loudly while I’m in the porta-potty

Amazing Factors:

I ran farther than I ever have before and feel like a real runner… 18 miles exceeds all reasonable expectations

I ran some freakin’ crazy steep hills and only lost a minute per mile (one of my hills was a dirt trail that was steeper than a 45 degree angle)

I felt a great sense of overcoming obstacles. My previous Ragnars went pretty smoothly and I didn’t have any excuse for not doing well. In this one, I had at least 4 admissible excuses, and yet, I triumphed!

I got to run past Angel Stadium!!!!!

I burned more than a half a pound of calories in less than two days

We had a truly excellent team… I’m not sure our previous teams would have made it, but everyone this year pulled their own weight and helped each other out.

Half of our team has run a previous Ragnar and close to half had run two previous Ragnars, so we were much better prepared than we’ve been before… there was a calm collectedness in our struggles that’s never been there.

BEACHES!!!! there were some GORGEOUS exchanges on this race

I don’t feel as terrible as I usually do. I usually struggle to walk after a race, but this time, I’m only slightly sore.

We raised over $10,000!!!!!! I still haven’t met my personal goal, and you should click here to view my runner profile and donate $25 to Open Doors Community School, please, but as a team, we were superhero support raisers!

The Ragnar Relay

Dear Readers,

I’m running the Ragnar Relay next month to raise $ for a community school, and I REALLY need help to reach my fundraising goal. Because I’m paying my own way for the race (as are all of the team’s runners), all of the $ you donate will go directly to Open Doors Community School and is tax deductible.

I have $700 more to raise in the next month, and am hoping you’ll help me out with a $25 donation.

Pretty, pretty Please… Please… PLEASE click on this link to check out my runner profile and make a donation.

If you aren’t sure what the Ragnar Relay is, here’s the DL:

It’s a 200 mile relay race (192.9 miles to be precise) . Our course runs from somewhere near L.A. to somewhere near San Diego (I’m not too knowledgeable about California geography). There are twelve members on our team, and we’ll each run three legs of the race. We divide up into two vans, and one van will always be racing, and the other will be resting until we finish the race. The vans drop each of their runners off and support them with water and enthusiastic cheering, and then meet them at their exchange points where the next runner takes over.

I am signed up to be runner #4, and my legs go as follows:

First Run                                                Second Run                             Third Run                       Total Distance

4.7 miles | Moderate

6.7 miles | Very Hard

6.6 miles | Easy

18 miles

So… I’m a little nervous because this is my longest Ragnar distance thus far, and it’s a pretty rough race even for runners who are responsible for shorter distances. Also, I tore my quad not so long ago, and haven’t been able to train as thoroughly as I’d like.

But… Ragnar is my favorite race of the year, and AZYP played such a crucial role in my foundations as a teacher, that I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And I’ll feel all the more hard-core when I overcome my body and stand triumphantly at the finish line!

Please consider helping me achieve this goal by sponsoring me with whatever amount you can spare.

Much love,

Ms. Leigh

That’s me handing off to Daniel at my last exchange last year. 🙂