eunice ann

tales of a girl trying to make sense of it all.

#7 – Run a 5k

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A couple of years ago, I got connected with a ministry in Denver that caters to people living with HIV and AIDS. The founder spoke at our church one Sunday, told his story of what it was like to live with AIDS, how it came into his life, and how he wants to help others. That May, they sponsored a 5k run/walk and needed volunteers. So my friends and I decided to help with the event and cheer on our friend who was running the race to qualify for the Bolder Boulder. I had zero intention of running that day, until we got an email the night before saying that they had plenty of volunteers, but encouraged everyone to attend and run or walk.

So we showed up at City Park bright and early at 5:30 am. It was cold and rainy and looking to be a pretty miserable day over all. Alissa wasn’t quite 2, so I had her in the stroller and figured that I could walk with her and my friends and we’d have a good time. Until that day, I never even knew that a 5k is only 3.1 miles.

In 5th grade, our school had a track meet. We all had to participate as it was part of our PE class. My events: 100m dash, 100m hurdles, high jump. I took first in the running events and 5th in the high jump. My classmates said I looked like a deer trying to clear that stupid pole. Grace and dignity are not my forte. In sixth grade, I traded out the high jump for the 400m dash and 200m hurdles. I placed first or second in all four events. Track was actually kind of fun!

In high school, I was determined to clock a 15 minute mile, but by then, my lungs didn’t want to cooperate as much. Running a half mile was about all I could muster before I wanted to keel over dead. I’d walk the last half mile and spend the next two hours wheezing. I was definitely a short-distance girl. I never went out for track – the idea of a stadium full of people watching me trip on a hurdle terrified me, so I went out for softball instead.

The track coach watched me running sprints at practice one afternoon and told me she wanted me on the track team. I should have listened. Not only can I not hit a ball, I can’t really catch or throw one either. I spent the first half of the season on the bench, and the last half in the bleachers, after taking a swinging bat to the elbow during practice one afternoon, which severely bruised my bone and muscle. Mrs. Smith, I’m sorry. You were right. I belonged with the runners. Bad lungs and all.

I like to run. It brings me joy. It’s relaxing to my mind and good for my body. Sure, the asthma thing makes it tough, but I manage. I am still not a distance runner though, and that was the reason for this goal. I don’t want to walk a 5k. I want to run it. So I am employing the Couch to 5k program and getting my butt in gear. If I can stick to the plan (which means running even when the wind is blowing 50 mph), I should be ready to go in ten weeks. So I’ll be fit to run one in the dead of summer. Yeah, that’s the plan. Plus, I have gained 25 (yep, you read that right – TWENTY FIVE) pounds since one year ago. No wonder none of my clothes fit any more.

Does anyone have some music they recommend I throw on ye olde iPod that I can run to? If so, please leave it in a comment below!

My life is not a soap opera.

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It’s an episode of Friends.

Friends is my all-time favorite show. Ever. I can (and usually do) watch it every day. And the more I watch it, the more I relate to it.

I’m Joey. Struggling to break into my dream career, but have been known to take the crappiest of jobs if it meant that I was even remotely connected to where I ultimately want to be in life.

I’m Chandler. I’m hopeless and awkward and desperate for love. Okay, maybe not desperate, but I have a habit of defaulting to my “Janice” when I’m confused about relationships.

I’m Monica. I’ve dated a man old enough to be my father and I am ridiculously competitive.

I’m Rachel. I had a kid as a result of a one-time deal with an old boyfriend and an accident happened and had no idea how to change a diaper, much less be a mother. (My kid is way cuter than Emma though.)

I’m Ross. I’ve been in love with a friend of mine for nearly ten years, but I’m too chicken to do anything about it.

I’m Phoebe. I didn’t grow up privileged, and that has made me a free-spirit.

I’ve had ick factors and crushes on cute doctors, I’ve worked in jobs I hated and busted my ass to get a job I wanted that I was underqualified for. I frequent a coffee house with my best friend, where we talk for hours about nothing. I’ve been in love and I’ve been married. I’ve had crazy roommates and been obsessed with Baywatch.

The genius of this show really is that no matter what you’ve been through in life, you can relate to some, maybe all of the characters.

Oh how I love baseball

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The smell of the grass. The crack of the bat. The flavor of a Dodger Dog. The warmth of the sun. The cheers and jeers of adoring fans and disgruntled rivals. The team flags flapping in the wind. The sound of the organist revving up the crowd. The inevitable moment that some jackass decides to start a wave. I love it. I love it all.

It’s no secret that I am a huge Dodger fan. Truth be told, I haven’t always been. I liked them well enough growing up, since in Arizona, we didn’t have our own team until 1996, and so we rooted for either the Dodgers, Padres, or (God forbid) the Anaheim Angels (yeah, you read that right. LA has only one baseball team, people). Every once in a while, you’d run into a misplaced A’s fan. So, for the most part, I grew up liking the Dodgers (save for a brief stint in 1994-95 when I actually rooted for the Rockies for a whole season)

Then I met my ex, who was an avid Dodger fan. He corrupted me. He taught me the meaning of what it mean to be “Dodger Blue.” I learned all about Dodger history, thanks to several years of Dodgers books for my birthday. Our first vacation together was in 1999 to Dodger Stadium. I saw Mark McGwire hit one out of the park, a feat last achieved by Mike Piazza in the 80’s. We had a great time. From then on, I was a true Dodger fan. In 2000, I became friends with Kevin, who I could not believe was a bigger fan than my ex. He even has a tattoo on his ankle with the Dodger logo. Needless to say, we bonded over a mutual love for the team, among other things. Now I look forward to the season every winter, celebrate my birthday by hitting a game (or two or three), and cheer on my boys in Chavez Ravine. Being a Dodger fan brings me both great joy and leaves me on the verge of a heart attack every year.

The guy I’ve been dating went to the A’s/Mariners game last night and was surprised at how empty the stadium was. He said that there were maybe 6,000 people at the game. Shocking.

A’s fans must really hate their team. Two games into the season, playing a division rival and no one cares? Unbelievable. (Why couldn’t only 6,000 people shown up to the Dodger game last weekend?) Although Rockies fans aren’t much better unless the team is on a hot streak in September.

This is, yet another reason I love being a Dodger fan. Dodger fans are passionate. Probably a little too passionate.

Here’s hoping we see October again this year. Go BLUE!

Having fun blogging again

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I spent the better part of two days fixing up post categories and reading through old posts. It’s been fun. And it made me realize how much I used to blog. There were some weeks that I not only blogged daily, but sometimes, several times a day. Always the one with something to say. Yep, that’s me.

I seem to be more inspired to blog these days than anything else, which I suppose is a symptom of the thing I fear most in life and thus, never talk about in regards to myself.

I’ve let go of my fear of the “what if” factor – and finally quit caring who might read what I have to say, and worse yet, what they would do with the information. Sometimes it’s easier to process my emotions this way.

I’m not big on confrontation, never have been. It’s probably why I stayed married for years longer than I wanted to until it blew up in my face. It’s why the bank still owes me $35 that they took in error. It’s why my sister and I shut down and locked ourselves in my bedroom on Easter. Confrontation sucks. I guess that makes me a passive/aggressive. I would much rather show someone I’m pissed than tell them. You’d think after all this time I would know it’s not so scary.

I find that I am reading a lot of really great blogs these days – perhaps that is part of my inspiration to write more. I like to write.

I’m having fun with my writing project, even though it’s stirred up a lot of emotion I have either boxed up or never dealt with in the first place. Still not quite ready to share with the world, but if you want to know where to find it, just ask and I might tell you.

I have very little patience for idiots

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I must be getting old. I have never had much tolerance for ineptitude, but lately, it seems that people being morons makes me irritable more than usual.

Take, for example, this traffic faux pas I have witnessed FOUR times in the past week. Traffic light has green turn arrow for left turn. Traffic proceeds as it should. Green arrow yellows, then dims, indicating that cross-traffic now has right-of-way. Left turners continue to turn – several cars deep – as if they didn’t notice (or care) that traffic is coming at them. Oncoming traffic waits patiently to avoid an accident, misses light, waits for new cycle.

Or my experience taking my camera to get it cleaned and repaired for the first time. Someone used my camera at one of our church events and broke the on-camera flash. It still fires, but it doesn’t snap back into place as it’s supposed to, which is really just irritating more than anything. I explained the problem to the repair shop, they quoted parts and labor, along with a three-week wait time. Since I needed my camera before they would have it ready, I asked if I could have it cleaned, pick it up, and order the part so it would be in by the time I was able to bring the camera back in. I spoke to three different people on five occasions, explaining what I wanted to do. The last person I spoke with assured me I could do things the way I needed to without any trouble. I was less than impressed when I picked up the camera yesterday to learn that ALL of the notes on the repair, including the part that needed to be ordered, had been deleted from the computer when I asked them to hold off on the repair. So it’s back to square one. With another repair shop.

I realize in this day and age that common sense is anything but. Even so, is it too much to expect that people to use their gray matter up top?

Hypnosis help

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If you’ve been reading my blog for some time, you know that I was seeing a hypnotherapist for a period after my divorce, and then again when I was pregnant. I’ve actually become friends with my therapist since then, and have enjoyed learning more about the mind-body connection. It really is fascinating, and hypnosis is an experience I cannot describe in words.  It’s like explaining the love a parent feels for a child – you can use words to describe it, but only someone who has experienced it genuinely understands how amazing it is.

I talk openly about my experience with hypnosis, even though it draws a lot of strange looks and blank stares. People that are into yoga, Reiki, psychology, or naturopathic medicine usually listen intently to my stories about giving birth comfortably without meds and dealing with anger, hurt, and learning to confront my demons. Everyone else I’m sure thinks I’m nuts. It usually comes with a lot of questions, such as, “how is that possible?” and comments like, “that is unbelievable.”

There’s a certain stigma surrounding hypnosis that is probably the reason for this. When you say, “hypnosis,” most people think of a magic act where a pretty girl clad in a cocktail dress quacks like a duck in front of a room full of strangers. A lot of people think that it’s some sort of mind control, but really, it’s just a tool used to connect with your inner self.

Today, I received an email from Shari, asking me to speak with a potential client about my experience with hypnosis. I was thrilled and flattered that she had thought of me.  I look forward to talking with this woman and sharing my experience with her, and hope she decides to try it for herself.

No bunny knows a better Easter

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I really like Easter, I don’t know why though. Maybe it’s the Cadbury eggs, or maybe it’s the pretty dresses all the girls wear to church. Maybe it’s because it’s on the cusp of spring and it brings the feeling of renewal to my life. Or maybe it’s just because it means that my birthday is just around the corner. Whatever it is, I have a lot of great Easter memories. There is one in particular that stands out in my mind though…

It was 1990 and we had flown down to Georgia to visit my grandparents. Coupled with a surprise trip to Disney World, it was one of the best vacations I can remember. I was “10, goin’ on 11” and we celebrated my birthday at my great grandma’s house the night before.

Easter morning, we awoke to three very large baskets in the kitchen, overflowing with candy, eggs, and stuffed animals. We ate breakfast and dressed for church in our frilly dresses, gloves and hats. When we arrived at the church, it was an experience like none other. Let me just tell you that I grew up in a quiet Presbyterian church in northern Arizona. This was not a worship service like I was used to.

First off, my dad was the only white guy in the whole building. I guess one can expect as much when attending a church in a black neighborhood in the South, but having grown up in Arizona, where there is a broad racial diversity, this was new to me. Then I noticed that all the ladies were accessorized with big fans and big hats and fancy gloves. Every. Last. One. I suddenly felt like Scarlett O’Hara was going to make a grand entrance momentarily. As I looked around and started to get filled with the excitement of  the room, suddenly, the room was filled with music.

Gospel music.

Oh boy, I was in a real live “Hallelujah church,” as I called it. The choir was going crazy, everyone was singing and dancing, clapping their hands and grooving to the music. The preacher came out with his booming voice:

“Jesus Christ is risen!”

“Amen! Hallelujah!” The crowd exclaimed, whooping and hollering.

Okay that was different. Don’t they know that the correct response is, “He is risen indeed,” in the most somber and depressing tone possible.

The sermon carried on. Every time the teacher paused for a moment, several congregation members would shout out, “Praise God!” or “Hallelujah!” or “Amen Jesus!” My sister finally leaned over and asked my mom why everyone was being so rude and interrupting the preacher while he was talking. Glad she had the guts to speak up, because I was wondering the same.

Church that day was a spectacle. It was a celebration, indeed, the way that Easter should be. Of all the Easter services I’ve ever attended, that one was certainly the most entertaining.

What the 101 list is all about

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I mentioned in my 101 list that several of the photogs I met last summer had completed this exercise – to make a list of 101 goals to complete over 1001 days. For you math whizzes out there, that’s just shy of three years, or one goal every ten days. Now some of my goals are certainly lofty, especially to achieve in the next few years, but they can be done. I have to reserve the right to re-evaluate the list and revise, I suppose.

The reason this exercise was so fascinating to me is that I have heard it said that people who write down their goals are nine times more likely to achieve them than those that don’t. Nine times!! Wow. I think there’s some level of not only accountability that comes with writing them down, but a sense of accomplishment that comes from crossing it off. Plus, I’m a dreamer – I have an entire fantasy world in my head. Don’t we all?

I listed them in no particular order, it’s just the way they came out when I was thinking about it. I actually had one of my (many) notebooks in my purse for a few weeks while I thought of them, writing each one down until I had 101. I noticed a definite trend towards travel – probably because a) I love to travel and b) I haven’t done much of it since I had a kid (cost of travel being double and all…). But I have a lot of friends that I have in different places that I would like to see one of these days. So yes. Lots of travel.

I also have a lot of goals geared towards my photography business. In 2004, I photographed my first wedding and decided I definitely wanted to be a photographer when I grew up. I have only sort of worked toward that goal, mostly due to limiting factors such as money and time, but I am constantly disappointed with myself when I see many friends pick up photography and do something with it. As in, they make money. I want to be that person too. That’s what all the photography stuff is all about.

I mostly wanted to do this because I’m a huge procrastinator. And I mean major. It is, perhaps, one of my biggest weaknesses. I’m hoping that, by trying to accomplish so much in a relatively short period of time, I will learn not to put off until tomorrow.

So I’m excited to see what comes of all of this.

I encourage you to wonder what you would put on your own list and see what comes out! 101 too much? Start with ten that you can accomplish in a year.

Here are the rules:

1. Tasks must be specific with a result that is measurable and clearly defined. If you can’t determine that you hit you goal (i.e. get as many Facebook fans as I can) , or if it’s ambiguous (I want to travel), what’s the point?

2. Tasks must represent some amount of stretching — it is not designed to be a long “To-Do List.” Get creative. Think of things you WANT to accomplish, not things that you must do.

3. Publicly post it for the world to see. We’ll keep you accountable and cheer you on. Promise.

Here we go

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Okay folks, I am looking over my 101 list and it’s time I tackle #62: Blog every day for a month.

I used to be really great about blogging. Probably because, like many things I do obsessively, I was addicted to blogging. It was fun. It was a release. Plus, I was recently divorced, (mostly) single,  new in a town where I had two friends, and sold plastic bags for a living, so I had oodles of time to digest my many thoughts (yes, I admit, some days, I did just spew them out there).

A lot has changed since then. I’m still single and enjoying it, but I’m also the mother to probably the world’s most adorable little (almost) four year old little girl. So, yes, my world (and thus, time for blogging) has changed drastically.

But I still have a lot to talk/complain/rejoice about. So I’m going to start doing more of that again. Stay tuned. Or don’t. Whatever.

I did it!

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Well folks, I know you have all been watching my downward spiral over the past couple of years, up to and including the moment about a year ago that I needed to take a step back and re-evaluate my life. I think I actually knew long before I admitted it out loud that I needed to stop, but pride, gosh darn it, got the better of me.

I didn’t come back home easily or with a glad heart. And I know that I have bitched about it being difficult and miserable. Some days, it still is.

But I persevered.

I recently took a job, solely because of where I thought it would get me in life, that wasn’t the best offer on the table, or even the first. It was funny how I spent six weeks applying for jobs and interviewing and desperately trying to find a job with no luck, and one day, as I was driving up to Denver, I got three offers between Flagstaff and Santa Fe. I spent the weekend chewing it over, and decided to accept the position that not only was the lowest-paying, it was a part-time gig to boot. But it had the most potential.

And for those of you that know that I’ve had as many jobs as I’ve had addresses in the past four years (a LOT), to have potential is the key to me finding happiness.

My gamble paid off.

On Sunday, I was asked to step into a full-time role and work more directly with the marketing department of our company. Marketing!! I gladly said yes, figuring that it would be more of the same type of work I’ve been doing the past couple of weeks. Today, I learned that I am taking on a full-fledged assistant role and will be responsible for not only the design of print materials, but getting our social media presence going!

It only took me two years, but I finally cracked into the field I’ve been trying to break for some time. That feels amazing.

Sometimes, you have to take a step back before you can move forward.