I'll make this short (unlike the rest of my entries).
When you're a writer, who writes a lot of things and perhaps spreads herself too thin, well....you've spread yourself too thin. As I have.
I'm not ruling out trying 12 new things.
But I am ruling out blogging about them.
I am working on a play.
I am working on a book.
I am working on a story.
I write freelance features.
I write freelance business writing.
I need to work on my website.
I run. A lot.
I Twitter.
I Facebook.
Something has to go. This blog is it.
Coming here to write has become something I kind of dread.
Things you do--hobbies--should be fun. Otherwise why do them?
I am not getting any joy out of this blog. It's become something I dread.
Blogging for me has been largely the "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" philosophy.
People pay for my writing. And I write stuff on my own, for a different audience, depending on what I'm writing. I guess.
And the blogging thing just stretches me too thin. It disallows focus on other things. Not running. but writing. It's one more thing I Have To Do.
And that's not what it should be.
I'm not ruling out starting another blog for now, and I do love this one for its discourse on rowing and biking and being the age I am. It's like a little snapshotty journal.
But--at least for now--I'm out.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
No bikes, but CaICIC instead!
(NB: Though I am publishing this in September, it was started in August. So there.)
That isn't cake he's got there, though.
The cake was good! The icing was better. This is not to say that the cake was bad, because the cake wasn't bad. The cake was good. But sometimes icing gets better by sitting. This is one of those times. 
In sum, I'd say it was a successful experiment. The rate at which I ate the two pints I took home was a pretty good indicator of that (I don't think the stuff was home even 24 hours).
This month has been about revising things. Well, this whole summer has.
I'll get to the "trying" in a sec.
On a side note, I feel like this has been a weird summer. I've been keeping myself busy, but things just kind of aren't going how I wanted. I've seen my husband not that much, and primarily on vacations. He's had a bunch of projects keeping him busy, least of all the deck railing he set out to do this summer, which has become a huge deal. People: it's a deck railing. And by people, I mean husband? Only yesterday has all the construction detritus been taken away. I'm glad, but...like 2 months too late, you know?
Maybe that's what August is about. Trying to be patient.
But who am I kidding, that's beyond entirely unlikely and possibly the subject of a whole other blog.
So...I don't know. I've just felt like this summer has been kind of strange--not bad!--just strange. Like it wasn't the happy-go-lucky party party summer that I had kind-of-sort-of-but-not-really envisioned? I tend to have things in my head that only ever sort of vaguely get actualized.
Soon, we will have a patio. Well, okay, maybe not soon. That's another issue. The stove that we bought in May is now in its final resting place and kicking ass.
So! Guess what?
It's August 30 (!) and I still haven't learned to bike.
Part of it is because I haven't gotten a bike yet. Can't buy one. Don't even have a helmet. I'm admittedly not very motivated. It will probably take me another running injury (bite your tongue!) to get on one. I can just see myself getting on a bike and getting injured or having a bike accident...yeah, you can't live in a bubble and fear everything, but you know what? I don't think it's time. The person who's going to teach me is about to leave on a 3-week trip anyway.
So I'm going to get on a post that is two weeks late and talk about something else: Ice Cream.
Specifically: Cake and Ice Cream Ice Cream (CaICIC)
Yes! Ice cream.
I love cake. It's probably my favorite dessert, really. But I can't eat most cakes nowadays due to the gluten-free thing. But regardless, you know what's the best? Having frosted cake, with ice cream, when it's all in one bowl and you can mush it all together? I love that.
But they're usually separate.
Cake. Then ice cream. Cake and ice cream. Separate things.
Why is this?
There is cookies and cream ice cream. It's okay. I never got the whole dunking oreos in milk thing.
But there's not cake and ice cream ice cream (CaICIC). Why not? They throw everything else in ice cream. There is cake batter ice cream (Ben & Jerry's, I think). There is birthday cake ice cream (well, there was. Umpqua made it for a limited time last year, but it was more cake flavor with sprinkles than actual chunks of frosted cake).
But there's not CaICIC to speak of.
It was time to bring in the big guns.
My friend J. has an ice cream maker. And she is an incredibly able ice cream devotee and sugar gourmand. An apt hand in the kitchen, that J. And we have similar takes on food in general (except she disagrees that raisins in food immediately ruins the food. and I just discovered, does not like Nutella. we will forgive).
J. is a big gun. Actually, she's a person, but suffice it to say she knows her shit.
So: Though J. has made many, many ice cream flavors, J. had never made cake and ice cream ice cream. So we both would be trying something new.
I baked the cake in advance. It wasn't just any cake. Since I'm gluten-intolerant, the cake had to be gluten-free. Rather than come up with the proper alchemy and money outlay for the necessary flours, I picked up a mix. Whole Foods has really good gf cake mixes, and they're relatively inexpensive. The white cake, which I have made before, is pretty good, although tends to be a bit sugary sweet. This isn't bad, and it beats the Bob's Red Mill cakes, which require more ingredients and tend to have a beanier flavor. (But their gluten-free cornbread mix is wonderful. If you add salt. And maybe some cheddar. And jalapeno. But I digress again.)
We were to make the ice cream on a Sunday. So late Thursday evening prior, I baked the cake, according to the guidelines on the package. I went along with the bread pudding principle, that the longer it takes to get dried out, the better (mold notwithstanding).
While the cake was baking, I made frosting from scratch, involving melted Ghiradelli bittersweet chocolate, butter, vanilla extract, and powdered sugar. (It's basically the recipe on the back of the box. Frosting should trend sugary, not buttery. The ideal is a buttery cake and a sugary frosting, not the other way around IMHO.)
The frosting was good.
The cake sat in the fridge.
It is very hard for a cake to sit in the fridge. Not hard for the cake, but for me.
Come Sunday, the cake came out of the fridge and it and I headed over to J.'s.
Chico, J's dog, wanted to help. I heart Chico. You know how there are some animals you just like? Chico is one.
That isn't cake he's got there, though.
This is a closeup of the cake. Note the slice that was removed prior to making the CaICIC. For quality control, of course.
The cake was good! The icing was better. This is not to say that the cake was bad, because the cake wasn't bad. The cake was good. But sometimes icing gets better by sitting. This is one of those times.
J. had already made the base for the ice cream. Very vanilla, nice loads of bean flecks in there. I think it would also work well with an eggy custard-type, or maybe even custard texture, like we did that day with another ice cream.
Getting ready to assemble in J.'s cool kitchen.
The cake needed to be cut in pieces prior to adding to the ice cream. We did this while the the ice cream was churning. I think we ate about half of this. It was cake! It was good! It was hard, all that waiting!
Hmm, I thought I had a photo looking into the ice cream maker, but I guess not.
We added the cake chunks in about the last 2-3 minutes or so, slowly. My concern was that it would crumble and be crumb-ey, rather than cake-ey.
It kind of did but it didn't. What did crumble added a nice, pleasing, pebbly texture. There was enough of the cake chunk to give it some heft and body and like you were aware that there were actual cake chunks in the ice cream, not just something that was making the ice cream thicker somehow.
So that was good; I like my ice cream loaded with goodies, so much that the ice cream is almost a delivery vehicle for the add-ins. I think J. is more of a purist.
But what really stood out was the icing. Not only was the icing good on its own, fresh or slightly stale and cooled, so that it chipped off the cake like fudge, but blended into the CaICIC, it provided these great stripes of sweetness. I found myself digging for them like in a Ben & Jerry's pint. Mining, if you will.
Here's a closeup, with an artful chunk of cake placed atop.
And how it looked, after overnight in the freezer:
In sum, I'd say it was a successful experiment. The rate at which I ate the two pints I took home was a pretty good indicator of that (I don't think the stuff was home even 24 hours).
There are, however, several things I would do differently in the future, providing J. is interested in another go:
* Higher frosting: cake ratio. This was about 1:4 frosting to cake. I would up that to 2/3 frosting, 1/3 cake. Make it in a shallower pan and ice the crap out of it. Because you're already making CaICIC, you know?
* Marble cake? Chocolate and vanilla together, with chocolate frosting in a vanilla base would work. Like the ebony and ivory of ice creams.
* Churn the ice cream for longer. I think we were just overeager, and didn't want this to turn into a brick.
This makes me want to do future endeavors, for sure. My only sadness is that summer is slipping away, and soon it will be time for things like crockpots and holiday cookies. Right?
So that was the August try. What will September's be...?
Friday, August 7, 2009
Next try: Biking
I can't ride a bike.
I never learned.
I was a kid once, believe it our not.
I had a bike. It was pink (I'm a girl). I had training wheels. I remember my dad used to take me up to the local elementary school (where I did not go) and I used to ride my bike around the parking lot.
I liked it a lot.
Then the training wheels came off. We were on the sidewalk, in front of my house. I fell down. I said," This is stupid, I'm never doing this again."
And I didn't.
I wonder if that's how it really happened, though. You know how memory changes as you age? Maybe it didn't really go down like that.
Maybe I fell down and had a neighborhood kid laugh at me.
Maybe I fell down and cried and my parents told me I didn't have to do this.
Maybe I yelled at my parents that I didn't want to do it and they made me.
Maybe my parents taught me wrong. They are kind of inept people. Maybe my dad was holding when he shouldn't, and didn't let go when he did. They aren't normal. They don't do things right.
I can blame it all on them, right? That's the thing to do, right?
Any of these things could have likely happened.
So I want to learn now.
But I don't know how. A friend has offered to teach me. This is my running partner's boyfriend, who is a friend in his own right (you know how sometimes that's not always the case, it's X and her BF, or whatever).
But I don't have a bike. I don't want to buy a bike specifically for this purpose--what if I hate it? I guess that's what craigslist is for...but I prefer not to deal with the initial cash outlay if I don't have to.
I need to borrow a bike. Or find a beater bike somehow.
I really don't want to pay for one.
I would rather pay someone, a group, a session, a clinic or something, for use of a bike to learn on. I don't know if I will be a bike rider. Just that I need to learn how to ride a bike. I need to be able to do it. I don't have to go out and do it on a regular basis. Just that I know how to do it.
I have done a precursory search. There don't seem to be any clinics or group adult lessons to learn how to ride a bike. Is that because Portland is such a bike-friendly city that it's assumed, like, why would you move here without a bike or at least knowing how to ride the fuckin' thing?
I'm striking out.
There are an obscene number of stores that sell bikes, bike accessories, bike this, bike that...I find it all so complicated and overwhelming. I don't want any of that. It's tools and jargon and I don't like tools and jargon. Even rowing had too much jargon (I'll get back to rowing in a sec). Biking seems like a good thing to do if you are mechanical person. A mathematical person. From what I have heard so far, biking involves a lot of numbers.
I'm not a mathematical, mechanical person. I want the kind of bike that people ride around canals in Amsterdam. Alongside the Mekong. I don't want to be able to go zipping by in some bike race.
I just want to be able to do it.
Let me tie up the rowing loose end: I didn't do the regatta after all.
Work had something to do with it. But the other things that had to do with it was the fact that I took an extra session on the Wednesday before the regatta (due to travel and oversleeping, I had missed the last class and the one before it, as well as an optional practice session).
And it was fucking horrible.
I was in seat 7. I was behind someone who was rowing at race pace. I didn't know what that was. Our usual coach wasn't out there. I didn't like the one who was. Jargon was called out that I'd never heard. I was rowing (if you could call it that) with people I'd never rowed with before. I had to try to pretend I knew what I was doing. It was the definition of failing miserably. I was miserable. And failing. I was my own FAILblog.
I was that person in the boat.
I didn't want to be that person in the boat. I didn't want to be the loser who made everyone fuck up. This was way over my head. I wasn't ready. It wasn't like, oh, I had a bad day out there and buck up...kind of thing. It was like, I'm going to be miserable the whole time if I have to do this.
So I took myself out of the situation.
I might take an intermediate class next year.
But for now, it's time to run. I've got a marathon I want to finally race. The past 2 years I've had a curse in August/September, where injuries sideline me until well into the fall. My foot's been feeling weird and I don't want that curse to pop up again.
Which is why I am completely terrified of falling on a bike and not being able to run.
I never learned.
I was a kid once, believe it our not.
I had a bike. It was pink (I'm a girl). I had training wheels. I remember my dad used to take me up to the local elementary school (where I did not go) and I used to ride my bike around the parking lot.
I liked it a lot.
Then the training wheels came off. We were on the sidewalk, in front of my house. I fell down. I said," This is stupid, I'm never doing this again."
And I didn't.
I wonder if that's how it really happened, though. You know how memory changes as you age? Maybe it didn't really go down like that.
Maybe I fell down and had a neighborhood kid laugh at me.
Maybe I fell down and cried and my parents told me I didn't have to do this.
Maybe I yelled at my parents that I didn't want to do it and they made me.
Maybe my parents taught me wrong. They are kind of inept people. Maybe my dad was holding when he shouldn't, and didn't let go when he did. They aren't normal. They don't do things right.
I can blame it all on them, right? That's the thing to do, right?
Any of these things could have likely happened.
So I want to learn now.
But I don't know how. A friend has offered to teach me. This is my running partner's boyfriend, who is a friend in his own right (you know how sometimes that's not always the case, it's X and her BF, or whatever).
But I don't have a bike. I don't want to buy a bike specifically for this purpose--what if I hate it? I guess that's what craigslist is for...but I prefer not to deal with the initial cash outlay if I don't have to.
I need to borrow a bike. Or find a beater bike somehow.
I really don't want to pay for one.
I would rather pay someone, a group, a session, a clinic or something, for use of a bike to learn on. I don't know if I will be a bike rider. Just that I need to learn how to ride a bike. I need to be able to do it. I don't have to go out and do it on a regular basis. Just that I know how to do it.
I have done a precursory search. There don't seem to be any clinics or group adult lessons to learn how to ride a bike. Is that because Portland is such a bike-friendly city that it's assumed, like, why would you move here without a bike or at least knowing how to ride the fuckin' thing?
I'm striking out.
There are an obscene number of stores that sell bikes, bike accessories, bike this, bike that...I find it all so complicated and overwhelming. I don't want any of that. It's tools and jargon and I don't like tools and jargon. Even rowing had too much jargon (I'll get back to rowing in a sec). Biking seems like a good thing to do if you are mechanical person. A mathematical person. From what I have heard so far, biking involves a lot of numbers.
I'm not a mathematical, mechanical person. I want the kind of bike that people ride around canals in Amsterdam. Alongside the Mekong. I don't want to be able to go zipping by in some bike race.
I just want to be able to do it.
Let me tie up the rowing loose end: I didn't do the regatta after all.
Work had something to do with it. But the other things that had to do with it was the fact that I took an extra session on the Wednesday before the regatta (due to travel and oversleeping, I had missed the last class and the one before it, as well as an optional practice session).
And it was fucking horrible.
I was in seat 7. I was behind someone who was rowing at race pace. I didn't know what that was. Our usual coach wasn't out there. I didn't like the one who was. Jargon was called out that I'd never heard. I was rowing (if you could call it that) with people I'd never rowed with before. I had to try to pretend I knew what I was doing. It was the definition of failing miserably. I was miserable. And failing. I was my own FAILblog.
I was that person in the boat.
I didn't want to be that person in the boat. I didn't want to be the loser who made everyone fuck up. This was way over my head. I wasn't ready. It wasn't like, oh, I had a bad day out there and buck up...kind of thing. It was like, I'm going to be miserable the whole time if I have to do this.
So I took myself out of the situation.
I might take an intermediate class next year.
But for now, it's time to run. I've got a marathon I want to finally race. The past 2 years I've had a curse in August/September, where injuries sideline me until well into the fall. My foot's been feeling weird and I don't want that curse to pop up again.
Which is why I am completely terrified of falling on a bike and not being able to run.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Whoops
Yesterday morning. Terrible night's sleep. Dreamt I slept through my rowing class--my last real one!--to...sleep through my rowing class.
The alarm was set for 4:45 a.m. For some reason, the volume had been turned down--I think I knocked it when I moved some clothes on my dresser.
(Hey, it's a $5 alarm clock. It doesn't play music, it plays static.)
I woke up, panicked. 5:45.
I missed the class.
I couldn't even go down to the boathouse, because they would have already been well away from the dock.
I was sad.
You know what bothered me? Not only missing out on something I like, but the paranoia that creeps in--oh my gosh, what if people have a great rowing day out there and they start thinking that *I'm* the one who's the fuckup?
There are a few practice sessions before the regatta, but I can only make 1 of them (and barely at that).
Saturday @ 7 -- I'm running. it'll be early because of the hot.
Monday @ 5:30 a.m. - Can't make this one.
Wednesday @ 5:30 a.m. -- Can make this one, but it'll be on not much sleep and I'll be shitty, I bet.
I'm annoyed.
But I still want to do this. I said I was interested, and I will follow through.
I think.
I am a big planner. A big committer. I like to say "hey, yeah, I'll go and do that, " or "Let's get together," or "I'll throw a party!" anything like that--but really, when it comes down to it, there are very few things (if anything) that I don't want to cancel last-minute.
I think I've gotten better at this, but it's still my first impulse. To say "Naw. I won't do it, after all."
I don't know why I do that, but I do. It is innate. Oftentimes at parties--even ones I throw, especially ones I throw--I go upstairs and hide a little bit. Like, I use the pretense of checking in on the cats, which are sequestered in a bedroom. I just feel like I need to hit the "pause" button on myself.
That's a feeling that's not concrete enough for me to make one of my Tries. It's just something I'm sharing.
But I think I need to go to this regatta.
The alarm was set for 4:45 a.m. For some reason, the volume had been turned down--I think I knocked it when I moved some clothes on my dresser.
(Hey, it's a $5 alarm clock. It doesn't play music, it plays static.)
I woke up, panicked. 5:45.
I missed the class.
I couldn't even go down to the boathouse, because they would have already been well away from the dock.
I was sad.
You know what bothered me? Not only missing out on something I like, but the paranoia that creeps in--oh my gosh, what if people have a great rowing day out there and they start thinking that *I'm* the one who's the fuckup?
There are a few practice sessions before the regatta, but I can only make 1 of them (and barely at that).
Saturday @ 7 -- I'm running. it'll be early because of the hot.
Monday @ 5:30 a.m. - Can't make this one.
Wednesday @ 5:30 a.m. -- Can make this one, but it'll be on not much sleep and I'll be shitty, I bet.
I'm annoyed.
But I still want to do this. I said I was interested, and I will follow through.
I think.
I am a big planner. A big committer. I like to say "hey, yeah, I'll go and do that, " or "Let's get together," or "I'll throw a party!" anything like that--but really, when it comes down to it, there are very few things (if anything) that I don't want to cancel last-minute.
I think I've gotten better at this, but it's still my first impulse. To say "Naw. I won't do it, after all."
I don't know why I do that, but I do. It is innate. Oftentimes at parties--even ones I throw, especially ones I throw--I go upstairs and hide a little bit. Like, I use the pretense of checking in on the cats, which are sequestered in a bedroom. I just feel like I need to hit the "pause" button on myself.
That's a feeling that's not concrete enough for me to make one of my Tries. It's just something I'm sharing.
But I think I need to go to this regatta.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Eek.
Wow, have I not written since July 8? That's not good. I must become a better blogger. maybe that will be one of my tries--blog every day for a month?
Rowing is going pretty well, I think. Yesterday out on the water was nice--it doesn't hurt that it is insanely hot for Portland lately, and it's much nicer than to gut it out trying to do a 8-ish mile run that involves Mt. Tabor and improper hydration. Do as I say, not as I do, kids.
I've decided I'll do this regatta the first weekend in August. I think we'lll kind of suck but at least we'll have fun. Right? I hope? There seem to be some cool people in the class, I'm not worried about that, but it's more of the "Wow, I hope we don't completely embarrass ourselves."
So I've been thinking about my next try. I'm pretty sure it's going to be having to learn to ride a bike.
We are planning a quick roadtrip to SE Oregon soon, but I can't really use that as one of my tries. I'm not trying anything. I'm just going somewhere. By that end I couldn't use the Japan trip, but the "I'd never been to Asia" element kind of makes up for it. Right?
Also the eating meat thing will probably have to happen.
Maybe.
More soon, after I've thought more about bikes.
Rowing is going pretty well, I think. Yesterday out on the water was nice--it doesn't hurt that it is insanely hot for Portland lately, and it's much nicer than to gut it out trying to do a 8-ish mile run that involves Mt. Tabor and improper hydration. Do as I say, not as I do, kids.
I've decided I'll do this regatta the first weekend in August. I think we'lll kind of suck but at least we'll have fun. Right? I hope? There seem to be some cool people in the class, I'm not worried about that, but it's more of the "Wow, I hope we don't completely embarrass ourselves."
So I've been thinking about my next try. I'm pretty sure it's going to be having to learn to ride a bike.
We are planning a quick roadtrip to SE Oregon soon, but I can't really use that as one of my tries. I'm not trying anything. I'm just going somewhere. By that end I couldn't use the Japan trip, but the "I'd never been to Asia" element kind of makes up for it. Right?
Also the eating meat thing will probably have to happen.
Maybe.
More soon, after I've thought more about bikes.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Today was not so the greatest day
Haven't posted in a while.
Monday it was too windy to go out there. There were whitecaps. So a few of us used the ergs and then I left, drove home, changed and went for a 4-mile run. Too windy to row = wonderful to run. Cloudy, breezy, felt good.
They will tack an extra, make-up class onto the end, but I'll be unable to go that day. So either we can apply it to another class or just get $15 back (10 classes are $150). I haven't decided which I am going to do. More on that later.
Monday I was up late and so woke up too late on Tuesday to get my run in. I went in the evening. By then it had cleared up and it was hot! I think running in the heat (and when you run, 70 and sunny = heat!) is something I will always have a hard time getting used to.
Since I moved to Portland right around the time I started running (outside, as opposed to treadmill), I don't know if it's that I got used to the cool vs. the hot or that I just got older and less able to deal with the heat or quite frankly if I've become a big fucking wuss...but I like cloudy + 50s/60s. At least to run in. If I want sunny and hot, I also want an umbrella drink in hand.
Or to be on the water.
Because this morning it was cool, and a little bit breezy. Certainly not as windy as Monday (and ironically, Tuesday, the day I don't have class, the water was super-calm and still). It was definitely the choppiest water we'd been in.
Rowing this morning was a pain in the ass (and, I suppose, the wrist).
Today was one of those days that you just don't have confidence. We learned to feather the oars, which I still haven't mastered. Feathering basically means you slightly angle the oar by twisting your wrist when the oar comes out of the water. I can't remember which wrist it is, I think it's the inside. Let me find a link that, once again, explains it better than I can.
Oh! Look! Wikipedia to the rescue. Not only does it describe the feather, but it also describes what I haven't yet tried to explain about the "catch" and such:
And here's the feathering info:
I totally did this wrong. I think. My wrists were sore, which is how I know. How are one's wrists sore? I don't know, but I can tell you that it is possible.
What feathering meant to me is that you turn the oar so that the blade is flat and then turn it back to straight before you dip it back into the water.
I don't know, at least I wasn't behind the guy who doesn't know what he's doing. And continues to not know what he's doing. He kept getting called out "Slow down!"
And the boat wouldn't balance, and it wasn't my fault, so that every time I tried to row the bot would go all cockeyed and I couldn't get my stroke right. And then we didn't have a cox today, so folks took turns steering. We need a cox. We're all pretty sad silly novice rowers. We need cox. Ha. That's funny.
Anyway, I knew today would be like one of those days, we were told it would be one of those days.
So now I might go to Seattle in August for a regatta. There is a category for novices who have not learned to row before June 1. I'm tempted; the houseguests I thought we were going to have might move until Labor Day weekend. We'll see. I might know more today.
I also haven't decided if I want to do an intermediate class. If so, I'd do the one in the evenings. Getting up that early is freaking tough. But then I'm glad I'm up.
I'm indecisive today.
Speaking of indecisive, I've been thinking about the next thing I'll try. It probably should be riding a bike.
But here's the thing: I don't own a bike, or have access to a bike. Or a helmet, for that matter, and there is no way I am getting on a bike without a helmet. Getting to a bike might take me some time. And I have visions of falling off it and then fucking up my chances to run a good marathon. Stranger things have happened.
I want to see if any bike shops would be interested. I want to pitch it as more of an article too, I need to get on that.
Okay, today is a rambling kind of post. I'll think of it as a freewrite for the other writing I'm about to start.
Maybe after lunch.
Monday it was too windy to go out there. There were whitecaps. So a few of us used the ergs and then I left, drove home, changed and went for a 4-mile run. Too windy to row = wonderful to run. Cloudy, breezy, felt good.
They will tack an extra, make-up class onto the end, but I'll be unable to go that day. So either we can apply it to another class or just get $15 back (10 classes are $150). I haven't decided which I am going to do. More on that later.
Monday I was up late and so woke up too late on Tuesday to get my run in. I went in the evening. By then it had cleared up and it was hot! I think running in the heat (and when you run, 70 and sunny = heat!) is something I will always have a hard time getting used to.
Since I moved to Portland right around the time I started running (outside, as opposed to treadmill), I don't know if it's that I got used to the cool vs. the hot or that I just got older and less able to deal with the heat or quite frankly if I've become a big fucking wuss...but I like cloudy + 50s/60s. At least to run in. If I want sunny and hot, I also want an umbrella drink in hand.
Or to be on the water.
Because this morning it was cool, and a little bit breezy. Certainly not as windy as Monday (and ironically, Tuesday, the day I don't have class, the water was super-calm and still). It was definitely the choppiest water we'd been in.
Rowing this morning was a pain in the ass (and, I suppose, the wrist).
Today was one of those days that you just don't have confidence. We learned to feather the oars, which I still haven't mastered. Feathering basically means you slightly angle the oar by twisting your wrist when the oar comes out of the water. I can't remember which wrist it is, I think it's the inside. Let me find a link that, once again, explains it better than I can.
Oh! Look! Wikipedia to the rescue. Not only does it describe the feather, but it also describes what I haven't yet tried to explain about the "catch" and such:
The two fundamental reference points in the anatomy of a rowing stroke are the
catch where the oar blade is placed in the water, and the extraction (also known as the 'finish', 'release' or 'tapping down') where the oar blade is removed from the water. After the blade is placed in the water at the catch, the rower applies pressure
to the oar levering the boat forward which is called the drive phase of the
stroke. Once the rower extracts the oar from the water, the recovery phase begins,
setting up the rower's body for the next stroke.
And here's the feathering info:
sweep oar rowers usually feather and square the oar with the inside hand (the
one closer to the rowlock), allowing the handle to turn within the outside hand, whose wrist remains flat throughout.
I totally did this wrong. I think. My wrists were sore, which is how I know. How are one's wrists sore? I don't know, but I can tell you that it is possible.
What feathering meant to me is that you turn the oar so that the blade is flat and then turn it back to straight before you dip it back into the water.
I don't know, at least I wasn't behind the guy who doesn't know what he's doing. And continues to not know what he's doing. He kept getting called out "Slow down!"
And the boat wouldn't balance, and it wasn't my fault, so that every time I tried to row the bot would go all cockeyed and I couldn't get my stroke right. And then we didn't have a cox today, so folks took turns steering. We need a cox. We're all pretty sad silly novice rowers. We need cox. Ha. That's funny.
Anyway, I knew today would be like one of those days, we were told it would be one of those days.
So now I might go to Seattle in August for a regatta. There is a category for novices who have not learned to row before June 1. I'm tempted; the houseguests I thought we were going to have might move until Labor Day weekend. We'll see. I might know more today.
I also haven't decided if I want to do an intermediate class. If so, I'd do the one in the evenings. Getting up that early is freaking tough. But then I'm glad I'm up.
I'm indecisive today.
Speaking of indecisive, I've been thinking about the next thing I'll try. It probably should be riding a bike.
But here's the thing: I don't own a bike, or have access to a bike. Or a helmet, for that matter, and there is no way I am getting on a bike without a helmet. Getting to a bike might take me some time. And I have visions of falling off it and then fucking up my chances to run a good marathon. Stranger things have happened.
I want to see if any bike shops would be interested. I want to pitch it as more of an article too, I need to get on that.
Okay, today is a rambling kind of post. I'll think of it as a freewrite for the other writing I'm about to start.
Maybe after lunch.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Happy July!
Today is July 1st. It is (was?) the birthdate of both my late uncle and my late grandfather. If you're out there, reading or watching, hey there and I'm sorry we had such strange relationships, respectively.
Anyway, onto rowing. Today was a good day!
I don't know why, I woke up this morning just dying to go back to bed. I was talking to one of my fellow classmates on if it's easier to get up early on Monday or Wednesday. We both agreed that Monday was ever so slightly easier. As I'm typing, I'm kind of thinking...maybe it's this: Easier to get up on Monday, but easier to row on Wednesday?
Today was windier out there, so harder to keep the boat level. And when not everyone is rowing, when we row in pairs and fours (described in a sec), you have to work harder at keeping the boat level. Your oar has to float, flat, on top of the water.
I was watching my oar lying flat this morning, when I wasn't rowing, and it came to me: Like frosting a cake. When you get the flat spatula/icing knife loaded with icing but have to maintain a flat edge to make the cake appear seamless...that is sorta what it's like. Stay flat, even, smooth...it helps everyone else on the boat.
When I get out there I sometimes wonder if I'm going to get seasick. It's not bad, but it's a little topsy turvy and unbalanced. It's also so strange--not bad, just odd--to see the river from three inches above it. I see runners like a speck, much in the same way as a runner, I'd see rowers like a speck. Nifty. I feel very much a part of Morning On The Portland Waterfront, no matter what I'm doing. And I like that.
I realized that driving there and driving home--I think I like mornings because I like avoiding other people, and mornings are when you can usually do that. Hee.
(this is what happens when you go and get coffee in the middle of a post. where the hell was I?)
So today I was in Seat 6 for most of the time. It went really well, I thought. The guy who doesn't know what he's doing was behind me, phew. I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but at least I know I'm not wrong for thinking what I think when I hear him get called out on going too fast or stuff like that. I should be nicer, okay, I'll stop.
Anyway, it was a good row, though I later learn that seats 5&6 are actually the easiest seats on the boat, so of course paranoid me is thinking "I got put there because I need the easy seat!" But then I got pulled out to let other people switch off, but then got put back in again at seat 1 because the woman there was having back issues. That seemed really easy, so I dunno. On one hand I kind of want the challenge of seat 8. That is supposed to be the toughest, but it's also the most kind of...topsy-turvy, so you need good balance. I don't know if I am coordinated enough. But I had good, consistent strokes.
I kind of like this stuff. It's fun.
But dear lord! it is early. And rowers are tough. I don't know that I'm tough enough.
Part of this is, I would like to be a natural at something.
I think in what I try, part of me wants to succeed, immensely and immediately. I totally have no patience. I want to be a natural. I want to be more than that; I want to be a prodigy. Some weird, supernatural talent that's immediately identified.
I learned I wasn't a natural at the drums. At least not natural enough for me to run right out and buy a drum set--not to mention the conundrums (hee! -drums. conundrii?) of where to put it and with what money? So yeah.
I'm not like that with running. But I enjoy the hell out of it. And I can say I have improved immensely since I first started doing it. But I'm not a natural. The fact w/running is that I ding my body up so much doing something which should be natural--it is a pretty good indication that I'm not a natural runner! I would also have to be shaped differently, long legs instead of a long torso. Trust, tall & thin does not a runner make. I can't tell you how many times I've been lapped by short chunky people.
But running is teaching me that effort matters, too. I once wrote something for my running club publication about how running's one of the only things where my level of effort exceeds my achievement. Previously I wouldn't have kept doing something that I wasn't great at. But I do it. And what's weirdest is that I enjoy it. I enjoy that growth. I don't know if that's because of maturity or because of running. but I do it.
With the rowing, I wonder if this is something I could be a natural at. This probably sounds really narcissistic, but what the hell. I enjoy it so far (save the early and the drudgery of getting the boat and oars etc. down to the water). I'm always kind of apprehensive at first, but then I like it once we're out there. Maybe that's okay--a healthy respect for the prospect of tipping over is kind of a good thing, yes?
Wow, that caffeine is hitting me. I feel almost like I'm still in the boat!
And when I was leaving, walking through the parking lot, one of the women in my class stopped me and complimented my rowing! She was saying that I looked really good out there (she was in the boat alongside us), and then said something like "Yeah, I was looking at you and thinking 'I want to be behind her!'" and then we laughed. It was really nice to hear and I'm sure it was genuine.
I hope next week's rows feel that good, and that I don't forget everything by Monday. It kind of picked me up for the day. Sure, I've had some professional setbacks lately, and have been down about those (hey at least I still have a job), but hearing that really made me feel good.
If only I could remember her name.
Anyway, onto rowing. Today was a good day!
I don't know why, I woke up this morning just dying to go back to bed. I was talking to one of my fellow classmates on if it's easier to get up early on Monday or Wednesday. We both agreed that Monday was ever so slightly easier. As I'm typing, I'm kind of thinking...maybe it's this: Easier to get up on Monday, but easier to row on Wednesday?
Today was windier out there, so harder to keep the boat level. And when not everyone is rowing, when we row in pairs and fours (described in a sec), you have to work harder at keeping the boat level. Your oar has to float, flat, on top of the water.
I was watching my oar lying flat this morning, when I wasn't rowing, and it came to me: Like frosting a cake. When you get the flat spatula/icing knife loaded with icing but have to maintain a flat edge to make the cake appear seamless...that is sorta what it's like. Stay flat, even, smooth...it helps everyone else on the boat.
When I get out there I sometimes wonder if I'm going to get seasick. It's not bad, but it's a little topsy turvy and unbalanced. It's also so strange--not bad, just odd--to see the river from three inches above it. I see runners like a speck, much in the same way as a runner, I'd see rowers like a speck. Nifty. I feel very much a part of Morning On The Portland Waterfront, no matter what I'm doing. And I like that.
I realized that driving there and driving home--I think I like mornings because I like avoiding other people, and mornings are when you can usually do that. Hee.
(this is what happens when you go and get coffee in the middle of a post. where the hell was I?)
So today I was in Seat 6 for most of the time. It went really well, I thought. The guy who doesn't know what he's doing was behind me, phew. I don't mean to sound like a bitch, but at least I know I'm not wrong for thinking what I think when I hear him get called out on going too fast or stuff like that. I should be nicer, okay, I'll stop.
Anyway, it was a good row, though I later learn that seats 5&6 are actually the easiest seats on the boat, so of course paranoid me is thinking "I got put there because I need the easy seat!" But then I got pulled out to let other people switch off, but then got put back in again at seat 1 because the woman there was having back issues. That seemed really easy, so I dunno. On one hand I kind of want the challenge of seat 8. That is supposed to be the toughest, but it's also the most kind of...topsy-turvy, so you need good balance. I don't know if I am coordinated enough. But I had good, consistent strokes.
I kind of like this stuff. It's fun.
But dear lord! it is early. And rowers are tough. I don't know that I'm tough enough.
Part of this is, I would like to be a natural at something.
I think in what I try, part of me wants to succeed, immensely and immediately. I totally have no patience. I want to be a natural. I want to be more than that; I want to be a prodigy. Some weird, supernatural talent that's immediately identified.
I learned I wasn't a natural at the drums. At least not natural enough for me to run right out and buy a drum set--not to mention the conundrums (hee! -drums. conundrii?) of where to put it and with what money? So yeah.
I'm not like that with running. But I enjoy the hell out of it. And I can say I have improved immensely since I first started doing it. But I'm not a natural. The fact w/running is that I ding my body up so much doing something which should be natural--it is a pretty good indication that I'm not a natural runner! I would also have to be shaped differently, long legs instead of a long torso. Trust, tall & thin does not a runner make. I can't tell you how many times I've been lapped by short chunky people.
But running is teaching me that effort matters, too. I once wrote something for my running club publication about how running's one of the only things where my level of effort exceeds my achievement. Previously I wouldn't have kept doing something that I wasn't great at. But I do it. And what's weirdest is that I enjoy it. I enjoy that growth. I don't know if that's because of maturity or because of running. but I do it.
With the rowing, I wonder if this is something I could be a natural at. This probably sounds really narcissistic, but what the hell. I enjoy it so far (save the early and the drudgery of getting the boat and oars etc. down to the water). I'm always kind of apprehensive at first, but then I like it once we're out there. Maybe that's okay--a healthy respect for the prospect of tipping over is kind of a good thing, yes?
Wow, that caffeine is hitting me. I feel almost like I'm still in the boat!
And when I was leaving, walking through the parking lot, one of the women in my class stopped me and complimented my rowing! She was saying that I looked really good out there (she was in the boat alongside us), and then said something like "Yeah, I was looking at you and thinking 'I want to be behind her!'" and then we laughed. It was really nice to hear and I'm sure it was genuine.
I hope next week's rows feel that good, and that I don't forget everything by Monday. It kind of picked me up for the day. Sure, I've had some professional setbacks lately, and have been down about those (hey at least I still have a job), but hearing that really made me feel good.
If only I could remember her name.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Open Water
We left the dock today!
And rowed.
Kind of.
Eight of us get in the boat. Mind you, this is not a big boat. It is small, narrow, and round though it weighs a ton, as I've mentioned earlier. You don't have room to stretch out much, or if you do then you better make sure you're stretching at the same time other people are stretching. Plus, you are pretty close to the water, like three inches from being in the water.
Narrow boat. Small boat. Especially when the person in back of you starts rowing and if you are not--you're going to take an oar to the kidney.
We rowed in pairs today. The other folks who weren't rowing had to keep the boat level. That is harder than rowing. You have to constantly adjust the handle of your oar so that you rest the blade flat on the water.
Then when we row, it's first arms and back, then with the legs. I was in seat 5, which means I was just about in the center of the boat. It also meant I didn't get a lot of time rowing--seems like the people in seats 7/8 and 1/2 do the most, just for steering purposes, mainly? I wanted more time rowing. Peter says that we'll rotate seats, which is good.
The class is mainly women, with 1 guy, now 2, as of today. This is my bone to pick, which I will get to in a sec.
At first I messed up. I was backing, instead of rowing. So I was pulling the boat backward, not forward. I don't know why I spaced this; I suppose it will be good when I have to, uh, back out of somewhere. Why did I do that? I don't know.
Then it was 5/6 turn (6 is in front of 5; so, as 5, I have to watch what 6 is doing and go in #6 rhythm. This is fine, and woman in front of me and I soon do well and are at a good rate, and the oar pulls through the water and there is that kind of...delightful pull, where you smooth through and there's like a fluid resistance but a yielding, cooperative resistance. I like that.
And then, because there are 8 people + the cox in the boat (Juanita, back again), and we had 9 people today. One person hangs out in the launch boat with Peter. This time, it was the new guy. And here is where I begin my "huh?":
Dude missed first 2 classes. You know, the ones where you learn how to row? So unless he took 2 other classes in a previous series and missed the rest and is making it up now, dude should have waited until the next go-round. I am surprised that they let people do that--join when they missed the classes that showed you how to do. You can't sit in a boat and watch other people row and then be assured you know how to do it.
But hey, maybe he got some classes on the side, or is a former rower, right?
Not so much. At least not in my opinion. Dude swaps out seat 5 with Heather and I have to watch him and his technique is awful and it's not consistent and it's just way, way too fast. It's not like I row like creepin' jesus, but OMG. Ungraceful, bad, lame, and of course seated in front of me. It was like, weirdly frantic or something. I couldn't do what he was doing, and yet, I had to! At one point I accidentally nudged him in the back with my oar. Serves you right for being such a flail, dude. Cox and Peter, I think, tried to get him to slow down, but by that point I looked like a bad rower, and you know what? I don't think I am a bad rower. I know it's not a competition, but I want to do a good job! And that's the thing about rowing; you can't do a good job if the person in front of you is doing a bad one. You have to copy. You have to copy it even if they are doing a bad job.
I'm an only child. You can imagine how well this sits with me!
No reason for a rant, really. I am feeling mean and sorry for myself. I hope it passes; I spent much of this weekend in a fugue state and I can't blame it on a hangover. I've been prone to depression all my life, am going through some stuff basically unrelated to 12Tries and which I don't feel much like discussing (J and I are fine and I have my health and all that, so blah blah blee), and I fear that will tip me over into something I've been trying to avoid for about 12 years or so--the return of the Sad.
But getting back to rowing: It was fun. I just wish I would have gotten to row more. It's hard!
J asked me when I came home this morning: "So what are you going to do with it?"
I don't know yet. I still have 7 more days in the water. Then there's an intermediate class if I want. But the thing is, you always need a group. I was never much for group sports; I like the solitude of running--sure, it can be better with a partner, but at the same time, you have to get it done, partner or not, otherwise you'll be a real bitch until you are able to do it.
Kind of like sex in that way.
I'm just learning, right now. That's all I got.
And rowed.
Kind of.
Eight of us get in the boat. Mind you, this is not a big boat. It is small, narrow, and round though it weighs a ton, as I've mentioned earlier. You don't have room to stretch out much, or if you do then you better make sure you're stretching at the same time other people are stretching. Plus, you are pretty close to the water, like three inches from being in the water.
Narrow boat. Small boat. Especially when the person in back of you starts rowing and if you are not--you're going to take an oar to the kidney.
We rowed in pairs today. The other folks who weren't rowing had to keep the boat level. That is harder than rowing. You have to constantly adjust the handle of your oar so that you rest the blade flat on the water.
Then when we row, it's first arms and back, then with the legs. I was in seat 5, which means I was just about in the center of the boat. It also meant I didn't get a lot of time rowing--seems like the people in seats 7/8 and 1/2 do the most, just for steering purposes, mainly? I wanted more time rowing. Peter says that we'll rotate seats, which is good.
The class is mainly women, with 1 guy, now 2, as of today. This is my bone to pick, which I will get to in a sec.
At first I messed up. I was backing, instead of rowing. So I was pulling the boat backward, not forward. I don't know why I spaced this; I suppose it will be good when I have to, uh, back out of somewhere. Why did I do that? I don't know.
Then it was 5/6 turn (6 is in front of 5; so, as 5, I have to watch what 6 is doing and go in #6 rhythm. This is fine, and woman in front of me and I soon do well and are at a good rate, and the oar pulls through the water and there is that kind of...delightful pull, where you smooth through and there's like a fluid resistance but a yielding, cooperative resistance. I like that.
And then, because there are 8 people + the cox in the boat (Juanita, back again), and we had 9 people today. One person hangs out in the launch boat with Peter. This time, it was the new guy. And here is where I begin my "huh?":
Dude missed first 2 classes. You know, the ones where you learn how to row? So unless he took 2 other classes in a previous series and missed the rest and is making it up now, dude should have waited until the next go-round. I am surprised that they let people do that--join when they missed the classes that showed you how to do. You can't sit in a boat and watch other people row and then be assured you know how to do it.
But hey, maybe he got some classes on the side, or is a former rower, right?
Not so much. At least not in my opinion. Dude swaps out seat 5 with Heather and I have to watch him and his technique is awful and it's not consistent and it's just way, way too fast. It's not like I row like creepin' jesus, but OMG. Ungraceful, bad, lame, and of course seated in front of me. It was like, weirdly frantic or something. I couldn't do what he was doing, and yet, I had to! At one point I accidentally nudged him in the back with my oar. Serves you right for being such a flail, dude. Cox and Peter, I think, tried to get him to slow down, but by that point I looked like a bad rower, and you know what? I don't think I am a bad rower. I know it's not a competition, but I want to do a good job! And that's the thing about rowing; you can't do a good job if the person in front of you is doing a bad one. You have to copy. You have to copy it even if they are doing a bad job.
I'm an only child. You can imagine how well this sits with me!
No reason for a rant, really. I am feeling mean and sorry for myself. I hope it passes; I spent much of this weekend in a fugue state and I can't blame it on a hangover. I've been prone to depression all my life, am going through some stuff basically unrelated to 12Tries and which I don't feel much like discussing (J and I are fine and I have my health and all that, so blah blah blee), and I fear that will tip me over into something I've been trying to avoid for about 12 years or so--the return of the Sad.
But getting back to rowing: It was fun. I just wish I would have gotten to row more. It's hard!
J asked me when I came home this morning: "So what are you going to do with it?"
I don't know yet. I still have 7 more days in the water. Then there's an intermediate class if I want. But the thing is, you always need a group. I was never much for group sports; I like the solitude of running--sure, it can be better with a partner, but at the same time, you have to get it done, partner or not, otherwise you'll be a real bitch until you are able to do it.
Kind of like sex in that way.
I'm just learning, right now. That's all I got.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Glad and Sad
Second rowing class this morning.
We spent some time watching a video on how to go through a wake properly, water safety, and people falling out of boats. This has a name, but I forget it. A cat? Catch? I don't know. Rowing has weird terms. And I thought the word "gait" was weird?!
Then we went back to the ergs to work on our technique. First arms, then arms and back, then arms, back, and legs.
Arms back legs
Legs back arms
This I chanted to myself (in my head!) as I "rowed." I did so much better today! I don't know why. But I didn't get any kind of advice except to use my long arms, back, and legs. Hee!
Then we brought the boat down to the water. Yeah the boat bringing down is still a pain in the ass. More like pain in the shoulder. It's so odd, sometimes it seems super-light and others I feel like I'm carrying the whole thing by myself. Part of it is the angle--we have to bring the boat down and up a ramp to get to the river. Part of it is where you stand--this time, we arranged ourselves by height, which was supposed to help. I'm not so sure it did?
We didn't leave the dock this time either, but we did more in the boats than we did on Monday -- arms and back, and this time we added legs to it. You sort of row in a rectangle, a long thin rectangle. A good way to think of it, Peter said, is like using a rolling pin.
A really big, kind of unwieldy rolling pin with a big, uh, fin at the end.
But that kind of helped.
Kind of.
I happened to be at the front of the boat and people were following my motions. That's kind of what you do when you're rowing. Scary! It's like being the aerobics instructor, without the mirrors. And without proper training. Or coordination. Or those creepy mirrors. (You can tell I was never a big fan of group fitness classes.)
What I was having problems with was the point at which the the oar goes in the water. (Ha, she doesn't have both oars in the water--isn't that the "she's stupid" metaphor?) As I'm typing it, it goes back to the erg -- once you reach in and your body is forward and your legs come in, then the oar goes in and... you push BACK! And through! And it is fun!
And then we learned going backwards. To switch from front to back and back to front is a lot more difficult than it looks. I kind of fear what's going to happen when we get in the water. Did you know rowers don't use lifejackets? I never noticed that, but they don't. Peter or someone will be in a boat alongside us when we go out on the river for the first time.
The boat (named Tammy Faye, by the way) seats 8, but there are 11 of us in the class. I guess that's supposed to account for no-shows and dropouts, but I am thinking that I want to be in the boat as often as possible.
I am however glad that it's the last time this week I will have to get up THAT early. 6 a.m. is going to seem like, late to me.
Speaking of wakes: Maybe it was a beautiful morning, but it seemed a little easier to get up. I'm not saying waking up at 4:50 is something I'm excited about doing (at all) but it didn't seem as shitty as it did on Monday. I wonder why.
We spent some time watching a video on how to go through a wake properly, water safety, and people falling out of boats. This has a name, but I forget it. A cat? Catch? I don't know. Rowing has weird terms. And I thought the word "gait" was weird?!
Then we went back to the ergs to work on our technique. First arms, then arms and back, then arms, back, and legs.
Arms back legs
Legs back arms
This I chanted to myself (in my head!) as I "rowed." I did so much better today! I don't know why. But I didn't get any kind of advice except to use my long arms, back, and legs. Hee!
Then we brought the boat down to the water. Yeah the boat bringing down is still a pain in the ass. More like pain in the shoulder. It's so odd, sometimes it seems super-light and others I feel like I'm carrying the whole thing by myself. Part of it is the angle--we have to bring the boat down and up a ramp to get to the river. Part of it is where you stand--this time, we arranged ourselves by height, which was supposed to help. I'm not so sure it did?
We didn't leave the dock this time either, but we did more in the boats than we did on Monday -- arms and back, and this time we added legs to it. You sort of row in a rectangle, a long thin rectangle. A good way to think of it, Peter said, is like using a rolling pin.
A really big, kind of unwieldy rolling pin with a big, uh, fin at the end.
But that kind of helped.
Kind of.
I happened to be at the front of the boat and people were following my motions. That's kind of what you do when you're rowing. Scary! It's like being the aerobics instructor, without the mirrors. And without proper training. Or coordination. Or those creepy mirrors. (You can tell I was never a big fan of group fitness classes.)
What I was having problems with was the point at which the the oar goes in the water. (Ha, she doesn't have both oars in the water--isn't that the "she's stupid" metaphor?) As I'm typing it, it goes back to the erg -- once you reach in and your body is forward and your legs come in, then the oar goes in and... you push BACK! And through! And it is fun!
And then we learned going backwards. To switch from front to back and back to front is a lot more difficult than it looks. I kind of fear what's going to happen when we get in the water. Did you know rowers don't use lifejackets? I never noticed that, but they don't. Peter or someone will be in a boat alongside us when we go out on the river for the first time.
The boat (named Tammy Faye, by the way) seats 8, but there are 11 of us in the class. I guess that's supposed to account for no-shows and dropouts, but I am thinking that I want to be in the boat as often as possible.
I am however glad that it's the last time this week I will have to get up THAT early. 6 a.m. is going to seem like, late to me.
Speaking of wakes: Maybe it was a beautiful morning, but it seemed a little easier to get up. I'm not saying waking up at 4:50 is something I'm excited about doing (at all) but it didn't seem as shitty as it did on Monday. I wonder why.
Monday, June 22, 2009
She only got one oar in the water...
That's like how you say someone's stupid, right? Like one card short of a full deck.
Like how I say "not the brightest chicken on the chopping block" (yeah ok even I don't know why I do that). Well that's what I did this morning.
I was up before the alarm -- OMG I don't even want to know what time that was; l I set my alarm to go off at 5, but our bedroom clock is set a few minutes fast, and it was one of those things where I was up before the alarm but stayed in bed anyway. So up and out the door and down to the boathouse on Water St. at 5:30 and I was one of the last folks there.
The boathouse is bustling. I never realized where it was, that it was there, that is was so big. There are a lot of boats, all so narrow, strapped to the walls, how is there so much activity before 6 a.m.? I never see that many people while running at that hour. It had a level of activity if not like the waterfront at noon on a sunny Wednesday, then it had that feel. Not as many people, but just the amount of...bustle. Who bustles that early? Even I don't!
(Incidentally: Who have I become? It's not enough to get up at 5:15 to run at 6 a.m.? Now I have to get up at 4:50 to row at 5:30? Should I just become a breadbaker at this point?)
There are -- 11? 12? of us? All women and one man. The instructor is a guy named Peter and he had someone from the club named...uh, I forget her name. Forgive me, it was early. I'd say our ages ranged from ~28-55. We first sat on the floor and got a short talking to, then moved over to watch a video--that didn't work. So that will be Wednesday.
Then we went over to the rowing machines, or "erg" as one is called. I think it is short for ergometer, but I think it's the noise I made. Not that it is difficult (at least not when you are going that goddamn slow!), but you take apart everything about the stroke, and learn it one piece at a time. And then you put it together. Then you forget it again. It's like choreography--and I'm no good at dancing.
We started with the arms, just getting used to the pull back and forward motion. Your hands should basically be at the top of your ribs--under your breasts, before the bellybutton. Then back--you should sit up straight, with maybe a 10% lean back as you,...pull? (I can't remember, I just had to click away from screen and then I came back here and forgot.) Then the legs, which is where you want most of the weight/strength/power.
On the way in, it's legs, back, arms; on the way out, where you power, is arms, back, legs.
Wait.
I think.
See what I mean? It's like overanalyzing a book in English class--you delve so far in and get metaphors so far up your own ass that you're like, wait, what am I reading?
One way is arms, back, legs; the other is legs, back arms. I just can't remember which now. Am I stupid? One oar short of a full boat? Dumb as a box of rocks?
Okay, on the way in, it's arms, back, legs; then as you stroke out (again, forget the terms), it's legs, back, arms. At least the back stays the middle child no matter what.
Juanita! That was the woman's name--not the instructor, but the club member that came out to help. I remember this because I think she made me do something wrong when I was on the erg--I thought I was doing great, was a natural...and then she spent a lot of time with me because--surprise!--I am not a natural at something that requires remembering what parts to move and when. But when she was trying to get me to move my arms independently of my back, I think she pushed my back forward. I don't know. maybe it was me and not her, maybe I shouldn't blame, maybe I really do suck.
Legs, back, arms, arms, back, legs. Right?
It got better when we went into the water. But first, we had to get the boats into the water.
And that was hard. And kind of unwieldy.
When I'm running by the Hawthorne bridge, I watch for the folks bringing in the boats to or from the river. I gotta tell you, they look light. I mean, really; they are narrow and thin, right? And they float. So they should be like styrofoam, right?
No! The boat we took out--granted it was like an 8 or 10-person shell (shell? I think that's the right word) and it weighed like 250 lbs. Okay, maybe that's like the size of a large man and there were 11 of us , but still. That is heavy when you have ~25-30 lbs in your palms flipping this thing overhead and when you are holding it in a manner that is not consistent with any weightlifting you have ever done.
So we maneuver it out of the boathouse and down to the dock. And it was cold. I had a long sleeve shirt and shorts on, because I planned to go for a run after class. I won't do that again. The days I row are the days I don't run, or at least not that morning; the clothes I'd wear for running are not the ones I'll wear for rowing. Especially the shoes; my running shoes don't really fit in the boat, and I don't want to risk ruining them or my orthotics. So crappy stuff from now on.
Besides, the goose shit abounded.
I've got to wrap this up in a few mins because I'm going for a coffee with a colleague momentarily.
Anyway, we got in the boat and tried making some strokes with the oars, making, like, small rectangles with the strokes and the oars. We did arms and back but not legs. I'm happy to say that felt a lot better than the erg. It was actually fun. It gave me confidence that maybe I could do it. Feeling the oar in the water and the pull of smoothness...that was kinda nice.
Of course we didn't leave the dock.
Interested to see how Wed. will go.
Like how I say "not the brightest chicken on the chopping block" (yeah ok even I don't know why I do that). Well that's what I did this morning.
I was up before the alarm -- OMG I don't even want to know what time that was; l I set my alarm to go off at 5, but our bedroom clock is set a few minutes fast, and it was one of those things where I was up before the alarm but stayed in bed anyway. So up and out the door and down to the boathouse on Water St. at 5:30 and I was one of the last folks there.
The boathouse is bustling. I never realized where it was, that it was there, that is was so big. There are a lot of boats, all so narrow, strapped to the walls, how is there so much activity before 6 a.m.? I never see that many people while running at that hour. It had a level of activity if not like the waterfront at noon on a sunny Wednesday, then it had that feel. Not as many people, but just the amount of...bustle. Who bustles that early? Even I don't!
(Incidentally: Who have I become? It's not enough to get up at 5:15 to run at 6 a.m.? Now I have to get up at 4:50 to row at 5:30? Should I just become a breadbaker at this point?)
There are -- 11? 12? of us? All women and one man. The instructor is a guy named Peter and he had someone from the club named...uh, I forget her name. Forgive me, it was early. I'd say our ages ranged from ~28-55. We first sat on the floor and got a short talking to, then moved over to watch a video--that didn't work. So that will be Wednesday.
Then we went over to the rowing machines, or "erg" as one is called. I think it is short for ergometer, but I think it's the noise I made. Not that it is difficult (at least not when you are going that goddamn slow!), but you take apart everything about the stroke, and learn it one piece at a time. And then you put it together. Then you forget it again. It's like choreography--and I'm no good at dancing.
We started with the arms, just getting used to the pull back and forward motion. Your hands should basically be at the top of your ribs--under your breasts, before the bellybutton. Then back--you should sit up straight, with maybe a 10% lean back as you,...pull? (I can't remember, I just had to click away from screen and then I came back here and forgot.) Then the legs, which is where you want most of the weight/strength/power.
On the way in, it's legs, back, arms; on the way out, where you power, is arms, back, legs.
Wait.
I think.
See what I mean? It's like overanalyzing a book in English class--you delve so far in and get metaphors so far up your own ass that you're like, wait, what am I reading?
One way is arms, back, legs; the other is legs, back arms. I just can't remember which now. Am I stupid? One oar short of a full boat? Dumb as a box of rocks?
Okay, on the way in, it's arms, back, legs; then as you stroke out (again, forget the terms), it's legs, back, arms. At least the back stays the middle child no matter what.
Juanita! That was the woman's name--not the instructor, but the club member that came out to help. I remember this because I think she made me do something wrong when I was on the erg--I thought I was doing great, was a natural...and then she spent a lot of time with me because--surprise!--I am not a natural at something that requires remembering what parts to move and when. But when she was trying to get me to move my arms independently of my back, I think she pushed my back forward. I don't know. maybe it was me and not her, maybe I shouldn't blame, maybe I really do suck.
Legs, back, arms, arms, back, legs. Right?
It got better when we went into the water. But first, we had to get the boats into the water.
And that was hard. And kind of unwieldy.
When I'm running by the Hawthorne bridge, I watch for the folks bringing in the boats to or from the river. I gotta tell you, they look light. I mean, really; they are narrow and thin, right? And they float. So they should be like styrofoam, right?
No! The boat we took out--granted it was like an 8 or 10-person shell (shell? I think that's the right word) and it weighed like 250 lbs. Okay, maybe that's like the size of a large man and there were 11 of us , but still. That is heavy when you have ~25-30 lbs in your palms flipping this thing overhead and when you are holding it in a manner that is not consistent with any weightlifting you have ever done.
So we maneuver it out of the boathouse and down to the dock. And it was cold. I had a long sleeve shirt and shorts on, because I planned to go for a run after class. I won't do that again. The days I row are the days I don't run, or at least not that morning; the clothes I'd wear for running are not the ones I'll wear for rowing. Especially the shoes; my running shoes don't really fit in the boat, and I don't want to risk ruining them or my orthotics. So crappy stuff from now on.
Besides, the goose shit abounded.
I've got to wrap this up in a few mins because I'm going for a coffee with a colleague momentarily.
Anyway, we got in the boat and tried making some strokes with the oars, making, like, small rectangles with the strokes and the oars. We did arms and back but not legs. I'm happy to say that felt a lot better than the erg. It was actually fun. It gave me confidence that maybe I could do it. Feeling the oar in the water and the pull of smoothness...that was kinda nice.
Of course we didn't leave the dock.
Interested to see how Wed. will go.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Double Oar Nothing
I've been neglecting this poor little fledgling blog. It's all dried up with ivy ready to choke it (to show you how out of I am, I almost wrote "joke" instead of choke). I'm not sure why, I think part of that is the ennui at work, the fact that I fear I have done nothing interesting, and the fact that I was out of town, and the fact (wow lots of facts) that I just plumb did not feel like writing a damn thing.
But now I'm trying. I am on Twitter -- has little to do with what I'm sharing here. I am trying to keep that one all about running and trying to run a time that will qualify me to run the Boston Marathon (3:45). It would be a big deal to me. So that is primarily a place to put my running stuff so I don't bore everyone to death on facebook with it. I will probably have some other interjections here and there too, so it's worth a visit or a follow. Make me popular and shit.
So since I last posted, I have:
Gone to Japan.
Going to Asia -- something I've never done, but I'm not sure which month that falls in. May? June? Both. May I raced a half-marathon. And I also went to Japan. Which covered both May & June. This isn't quite working out to the one a month I'd thought, but what the hell, life gets in the way.
I guess I'm up to ... 3 things now?
Drums
Race
Japan
There might be something else coming down the pipeline too, but we'll see. Next up?
I'm going to join the crew team.
Well, kind of. I'm 35, and not in college. I am taking a novice rowing class with Station L Rowing Club.
(We did have a crew team back in college, but I never joined it. In college I picked my classes and activities based on when they started and nothing was before 10 a.m. I probably missed out on a lot, and now I get up at 5:30ish many days to run so what's the point, really. Then again I'm not preparing to go out at 11 p.m. anymore. I'm old. There needs to be a balance somehow. I'm not there yet. At least I'm not throwing myself at boys anymore. Oh, wait, nevermind.)
The last time I rowed anything was on the LifeFitness machine at the Bally's when I was 15 or so. It was like a videogame; there was this animated little dude on the screen, and you were under it, and as you pulled the...what's it called, lever?...back and forth as you "rowed" (in quotes because I am sure this is nothing like actual rowing) you heard a swishing, mechanical roboty noise and it showed you if you were ahead or behind the dude on the screen. It beat the shit out of the exercise bike.
(Yes, I cut gym class through 9th grade but had my dad sneak me into the health club on Sundays. I'm so insane.)
Anyway, I enjoyed the Lifecycle cartoon rowing machine. And although I did not partake of the crew team in college, as I got older and found that I naturally enjoyed using the rowing pull machine at the gym, and many mornings running down the Springwater corridor, noticed the rowers out there pulling through the Willamette, thought it looked, well, kind of fun.
I'm not running as much now, due to tweaking my hamstring and possibly aggravating a piriformis/sciatica/who-knows-what-the-hell-issue-this-is-other-than-it-sucks, and the marathon I want to run isn't till early December, so late June through late July will be a great time to try rowing, I think.
And from when I looked on the site to when the next class starts, I had very little time to think through it. I heard there was room in the class if I got my stuff in right away, and so I wrote out the check for $150 (hey, it's 10 weeks and only slightly more than a new pair of running shoes, which also last about 10-12 weeks for me), and made plans to take the swim test.
Ah yes. The swim test. I had to swim for 10 min straight (any stroke), and then tread water/float for 10 mins. It sounds easy, but when I was in the pool on Friday (the day before the test, just trying to work out) I realized it was harder than I thought.
I'm way out of swimming shape--granted, I never was in it, I'm not a strong swimmer though it is more in my genes than running is (my grandmother was an olympic-caliber swimmer and taught water fitness classes well into her 90s), and I flail around a lot. I wouldn't call it the dog paddle, but I am sure there are some retriever types who could swim a straighter line in the lap pool than yours truly.
So anyway, I took the swim test yesterday. All my worrying was for naught, as I swam like, if not a champ, than someone who can at least stay afloat and not scream "Fucking help my ass out of the drink!" Lifeguard even praised my smooth strokes. Upon getting in the car on the way home, I texted J who texted back that he liked my firm grip. Heh.
Oh I took it at Mt. Scott community center's pool, which I recommend--even though the *other* pool was filled with screaming children, the lap pool was very quiet--it did help that I got there right when they opened. I'd been there once before for a water aerobics class I took with a friend while we both had stress fractures and couldn't run.
(Because I am petty, I would like to point out that although this friend kicks my ass running on land and the only way I could beat her in a race is if she tried to run it on misaligned crutches, I kicked her ass running in the water. Hmm, maybe it is genetic...)
Anyway, where was I? Oh so the rowing.
First class (they are group classes, this isn't like, private rowing instruction or anything) starts tomorrow at 5:30 a.m. Classes are Mondays and Wednesdays from 5:30 - 7:15 a.m. Yeah, that's damn early, but I'm barely a 10-minute drive away so I will have plenty of time to get home and shower and get to work--okay, on the later side, but who gives a shit. It's good, it'll be good cross-training, and it will possibly preclude me from running too much at a point where I needn't be pushing myself too hard because of weird hammie thing that requires much babying, and yet I will hopefully not get fat.
And I have long, long monkey arms. And a long torso. And I like my back. All will, I think, be good for rowing.
I don't know the first thing about rowing. In overnight camp when I was around 10 or 11 they had rowboats. And canoes. I don't remember much about them or the difference between them, but I do remember that sort of wobbly feeling and the grossness of the browny green lake water which seeped in no matter what you did. And the slimy white dock.
I'm not really psyching myself up here, am I?
I went to Wiki on Crew just now, and maybe it's poorly written, but I don't really understand it still.
Running is so easy: You just go. Of course, it's not that easy if you make it. There are shoe questions and gear issues and no cotton and dri-fit and pace and stride and form and training and ramping mileage and tapering and it can be as complicated as you want it to be...but what it comes down to is moving yourself forward.
But then I read something like this, and my head tangles up over the words:
Uh, huh huh Beavis, what? I'm going to drop my oars and be up shit's creek without a paddle.
The shoe? The oar lock? Huh? I'm going to drown. Or at least look like an asshole.
I hope the people explain things in a way that lil ole dumb me can get. And that they are nice.
I never enjoyed sports (especially team sports) that much growing up. But I was also never really encouraged to do them. I think if I had demonstrated a want or an aptitude, maybe, but it is something that never came up much on the radar. I was more encouraged to do something like tennis (which I sucked at) because it would somehow help me more in later life. And ... uh no. I think the last time I picked up a racket, it was before I'd learned to use tampons.
Rowing seems like a team sport. You all must move together to make the boat move forward (uh, at least I assume). I am imagining several people in a donkey costume or something.
I'll try to post after my first class tomorrow.
But now I'm trying. I am on Twitter -- has little to do with what I'm sharing here. I am trying to keep that one all about running and trying to run a time that will qualify me to run the Boston Marathon (3:45). It would be a big deal to me. So that is primarily a place to put my running stuff so I don't bore everyone to death on facebook with it. I will probably have some other interjections here and there too, so it's worth a visit or a follow. Make me popular and shit.
So since I last posted, I have:
Gone to Japan.
Going to Asia -- something I've never done, but I'm not sure which month that falls in. May? June? Both. May I raced a half-marathon. And I also went to Japan. Which covered both May & June. This isn't quite working out to the one a month I'd thought, but what the hell, life gets in the way.
I guess I'm up to ... 3 things now?
Drums
Race
Japan
There might be something else coming down the pipeline too, but we'll see. Next up?
I'm going to join the crew team.
Well, kind of. I'm 35, and not in college. I am taking a novice rowing class with Station L Rowing Club.
(We did have a crew team back in college, but I never joined it. In college I picked my classes and activities based on when they started and nothing was before 10 a.m. I probably missed out on a lot, and now I get up at 5:30ish many days to run so what's the point, really. Then again I'm not preparing to go out at 11 p.m. anymore. I'm old. There needs to be a balance somehow. I'm not there yet. At least I'm not throwing myself at boys anymore. Oh, wait, nevermind.)
The last time I rowed anything was on the LifeFitness machine at the Bally's when I was 15 or so. It was like a videogame; there was this animated little dude on the screen, and you were under it, and as you pulled the...what's it called, lever?...back and forth as you "rowed" (in quotes because I am sure this is nothing like actual rowing) you heard a swishing, mechanical roboty noise and it showed you if you were ahead or behind the dude on the screen. It beat the shit out of the exercise bike.
(Yes, I cut gym class through 9th grade but had my dad sneak me into the health club on Sundays. I'm so insane.)
Anyway, I enjoyed the Lifecycle cartoon rowing machine. And although I did not partake of the crew team in college, as I got older and found that I naturally enjoyed using the rowing pull machine at the gym, and many mornings running down the Springwater corridor, noticed the rowers out there pulling through the Willamette, thought it looked, well, kind of fun.
I'm not running as much now, due to tweaking my hamstring and possibly aggravating a piriformis/sciatica/who-knows-what-the-hell-issue-this-is-other-than-it-sucks, and the marathon I want to run isn't till early December, so late June through late July will be a great time to try rowing, I think.
And from when I looked on the site to when the next class starts, I had very little time to think through it. I heard there was room in the class if I got my stuff in right away, and so I wrote out the check for $150 (hey, it's 10 weeks and only slightly more than a new pair of running shoes, which also last about 10-12 weeks for me), and made plans to take the swim test.
Ah yes. The swim test. I had to swim for 10 min straight (any stroke), and then tread water/float for 10 mins. It sounds easy, but when I was in the pool on Friday (the day before the test, just trying to work out) I realized it was harder than I thought.
I'm way out of swimming shape--granted, I never was in it, I'm not a strong swimmer though it is more in my genes than running is (my grandmother was an olympic-caliber swimmer and taught water fitness classes well into her 90s), and I flail around a lot. I wouldn't call it the dog paddle, but I am sure there are some retriever types who could swim a straighter line in the lap pool than yours truly.
So anyway, I took the swim test yesterday. All my worrying was for naught, as I swam like, if not a champ, than someone who can at least stay afloat and not scream "Fucking help my ass out of the drink!" Lifeguard even praised my smooth strokes. Upon getting in the car on the way home, I texted J who texted back that he liked my firm grip. Heh.
Oh I took it at Mt. Scott community center's pool, which I recommend--even though the *other* pool was filled with screaming children, the lap pool was very quiet--it did help that I got there right when they opened. I'd been there once before for a water aerobics class I took with a friend while we both had stress fractures and couldn't run.
(Because I am petty, I would like to point out that although this friend kicks my ass running on land and the only way I could beat her in a race is if she tried to run it on misaligned crutches, I kicked her ass running in the water. Hmm, maybe it is genetic...)
Anyway, where was I? Oh so the rowing.
First class (they are group classes, this isn't like, private rowing instruction or anything) starts tomorrow at 5:30 a.m. Classes are Mondays and Wednesdays from 5:30 - 7:15 a.m. Yeah, that's damn early, but I'm barely a 10-minute drive away so I will have plenty of time to get home and shower and get to work--okay, on the later side, but who gives a shit. It's good, it'll be good cross-training, and it will possibly preclude me from running too much at a point where I needn't be pushing myself too hard because of weird hammie thing that requires much babying, and yet I will hopefully not get fat.
And I have long, long monkey arms. And a long torso. And I like my back. All will, I think, be good for rowing.
I don't know the first thing about rowing. In overnight camp when I was around 10 or 11 they had rowboats. And canoes. I don't remember much about them or the difference between them, but I do remember that sort of wobbly feeling and the grossness of the browny green lake water which seeped in no matter what you did. And the slimy white dock.
I'm not really psyching myself up here, am I?
I went to Wiki on Crew just now, and maybe it's poorly written, but I don't really understand it still.
Running is so easy: You just go. Of course, it's not that easy if you make it. There are shoe questions and gear issues and no cotton and dri-fit and pace and stride and form and training and ramping mileage and tapering and it can be as complicated as you want it to be...but what it comes down to is moving yourself forward.
But then I read something like this, and my head tangles up over the words:
Have the boat parallel to the dock, unattached. Make sure the oars are in and
are pushed as far as they can go until the catch. Move the oars forward and hold
them with one hand. Slide the seat back, and put one foot in. Make sure to stand
on the deck of the boat and do not step in the bottom, or rounded, part of the
boat. Then squat down and sit down on the sliding chair. You should then be able
to put the foot in the shoe, and then move the other foot in. Hold the oars in
one hand and push off of the dock. Remember to close the 'oar lock' on the
rigger to stop the oar from popping out.
Uh, huh huh Beavis, what? I'm going to drop my oars and be up shit's creek without a paddle.
The shoe? The oar lock? Huh? I'm going to drown. Or at least look like an asshole.
I hope the people explain things in a way that lil ole dumb me can get. And that they are nice.
I never enjoyed sports (especially team sports) that much growing up. But I was also never really encouraged to do them. I think if I had demonstrated a want or an aptitude, maybe, but it is something that never came up much on the radar. I was more encouraged to do something like tennis (which I sucked at) because it would somehow help me more in later life. And ... uh no. I think the last time I picked up a racket, it was before I'd learned to use tampons.
Rowing seems like a team sport. You all must move together to make the boat move forward (uh, at least I assume). I am imagining several people in a donkey costume or something.
I'll try to post after my first class tomorrow.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
May Try: Racing a Half-Marathon
This is based on what I posted on my running club's message board last week:
Last month was drum lessons. The try for this month (there might be others, but at least I got this out of the way first), was Race a Race. So that's how I approached the Eugene half-marathon on May 3.
Racing is tough for me.
(I think it's because I did so many as training runs when I was doing my first marathon--when I was living in Hoboken, I did a lot of New York Road Runners races because if you ran a certain #, you were guaranteed entry for the NY marathon. Only thing is: You have to be a member since January of that year. I joined in April. Thus: I am an idiot. But my point is not so much that but the fact that these "races" weren't races, they were ways for me to get a run in.)
I am tired of telling myself I don't get "race face." I tend to stop at races if I'm feeling poorly; I rarely break on through (to the other side), though on the once-in-a-blue-uninjured-moon I will, and am rewarded for my efforts.
This time I decided: I would put on my race face. At the same time, I would run this course smartly. I would go in...not conservative--but judicious. And so I'm happy with my race, partly because of the physical and the time (i.e., I took more than 3 minutes off my PR, though I missed going sub 1:50 by 10 lousy seconds), but also the mental (i.e., putting brain & body on a continuous loop reiterating that this was tough and I had to push through it and I was capable of it). It was a mental PR, and I'm more happy about that than anything else.
Last time I did a half was almost two years ago, and it's been a tough two years in a lot of ways. Conditions wrt weather were fabulous, though I will admit when I woke up at 5:30 and was surprised to learn that the noise I thought was water gushing down a gutter was actually water gushing from the skies. But things cleared up before the start and it was great weather; overcast but sprinkles at times. It cleared a bit for the marathoners, I think; it might have even been warm for the 3:30-plus group or so. I was also surprised that there was no wind.
I have to say, I was surprised that there was no 3:45 pacer. I'm going to email them and suggest that. I was around a lot of women around my age who wanted to qualify for Boston. Maybe I should have seeded myself further up in the crowd to find a group who was going to go out around 8:20 (the pace I wanted to average) but I wanted to go out about 8:30 and increase the pace later. I was pleasantly surprised to do minimal weaving in the first mile, and I didn't encounter any walkers, which I was really happy about. Was pleased how that went. Ran with a friend from my running cub for the first 2 miles (he later dropped out because he was fighting a cold) then got into a nice rhythm.
Was running for about 10 miles with this one 38-year old woman who was trying to qualify for Boston -- she was super-nice; occasionally I'd draft off her, and then she'd draft off me, and we talked about signs and running backpacks, etc. Around mile 5, she was like, "I wish you were running the full," and I said "there's still time to change your mind," and she said, well, I've been training for this 2 and a half years. I had to laugh. I know how that goes. (Side note: I watched the marathoners come in, and I was real sad to see her come in at ~3:50ish pace. But then I wondered when her birthday was and if she had a shot after all; but I guess that's more likely if you run a fall marathon, right?)
I loved the course. It's pretty, interesting, there's enough going on, varied. Thumbs up! Just downloaded my Garmin data and I'd had no idea the hill from 4-5 was as tall as it's saying it is. It was such a gradual climb that by the time you were like, hmm, am I working harder than usual?, you were going downhill. I like hills. I think I run them well and it's such a great feeling passing folks on the downhills who are recovering! The hill at mile 8 seemed steeper, but it was shorter and it's not unlike a hill by my house that I often finish training runs with, so I kept telling myself "it's just the Clinton Street climb..." and it totally worked.
That said? I think my favorite distance is about 15k - 10 miles or so. I wish there were more races out there like that. My best miles feel like they are usually run around miles 6-9, so by the time I hit mile 11 or so in a half-marathon, that's kind of the dead zone for me. And especially when my new friend and I split up at the half/full splitting up point, I had fewer people to draft off of.
But I made roadkill! There was this one woman I was running with for a bit -- she was in front of me, then I drafted by her shoulder...and then I passed her. You don't understand. I'm usually the kill in roadkill. But now, well, now I was the road. That last mile felt endless. My time was 1:50:09. I had really, really wanted to round that bend and see a "4" in the minutes area. But hey, it's a PR by over 3 minutes from the Flat Half 2007, so I'm happy with that.
I also didn't feel pain during the race; I got some glimmers of a side stitch that might have become more of an issue if I'd been running the marathon, but everything stayed in check. Breathing was good. It was a PR, and it also was a PR in that I felt totally dialed-in and totally consistent, very present, and, for lack of a better term "with it" during the race. I didn't stop once, didn't walk once during the race--though I ran through all the aid stations but one, and in that case I had to walk for like 10 steps because I can't Gu and run at the same time. That's probably what cost me that damn 10 seconds, but whatever. Maybe I'll try a fuel belt, but I'd always thought those would be tough on my back. Maybe I'll just increase my pace.
I was very finished at the finish. I'm happy with how things went. The day was great. I did things right and it showed. That was good. And now, I want to get faster. I know I have a mid-1:40 half in me. At least. Also, I had kind of wanted to train for a race based primarily on building mileage. I think I topped out at 47 miles a week. I haven't been doing much speed training; I've done maybe 5 tempo runs all year. But now that my mileage is gettign higher, I feel better about adding more speedwork to it. I'd like to do more long tempo runs, I think. Make training a little tougher.
Oh yeah, splits, because I thought this was interesting:Avg pace, 8:24, 8:40, 8:15, 8:33, 8:30, 8:28, 8:00, 8:22, 8:29, 8:37, 8:10, 8:33, 8:17, 8:23, 7:08.
So that was my race for May. May also will be the third try: Go to Asia.
We are going to Japan this month.
Last month was drum lessons. The try for this month (there might be others, but at least I got this out of the way first), was Race a Race. So that's how I approached the Eugene half-marathon on May 3.
Racing is tough for me.
(I think it's because I did so many as training runs when I was doing my first marathon--when I was living in Hoboken, I did a lot of New York Road Runners races because if you ran a certain #, you were guaranteed entry for the NY marathon. Only thing is: You have to be a member since January of that year. I joined in April. Thus: I am an idiot. But my point is not so much that but the fact that these "races" weren't races, they were ways for me to get a run in.)
I am tired of telling myself I don't get "race face." I tend to stop at races if I'm feeling poorly; I rarely break on through (to the other side), though on the once-in-a-blue-uninjured-moon I will, and am rewarded for my efforts.
This time I decided: I would put on my race face. At the same time, I would run this course smartly. I would go in...not conservative--but judicious. And so I'm happy with my race, partly because of the physical and the time (i.e., I took more than 3 minutes off my PR, though I missed going sub 1:50 by 10 lousy seconds), but also the mental (i.e., putting brain & body on a continuous loop reiterating that this was tough and I had to push through it and I was capable of it). It was a mental PR, and I'm more happy about that than anything else.
Last time I did a half was almost two years ago, and it's been a tough two years in a lot of ways. Conditions wrt weather were fabulous, though I will admit when I woke up at 5:30 and was surprised to learn that the noise I thought was water gushing down a gutter was actually water gushing from the skies. But things cleared up before the start and it was great weather; overcast but sprinkles at times. It cleared a bit for the marathoners, I think; it might have even been warm for the 3:30-plus group or so. I was also surprised that there was no wind.
I have to say, I was surprised that there was no 3:45 pacer. I'm going to email them and suggest that. I was around a lot of women around my age who wanted to qualify for Boston. Maybe I should have seeded myself further up in the crowd to find a group who was going to go out around 8:20 (the pace I wanted to average) but I wanted to go out about 8:30 and increase the pace later. I was pleasantly surprised to do minimal weaving in the first mile, and I didn't encounter any walkers, which I was really happy about. Was pleased how that went. Ran with a friend from my running cub for the first 2 miles (he later dropped out because he was fighting a cold) then got into a nice rhythm.
Was running for about 10 miles with this one 38-year old woman who was trying to qualify for Boston -- she was super-nice; occasionally I'd draft off her, and then she'd draft off me, and we talked about signs and running backpacks, etc. Around mile 5, she was like, "I wish you were running the full," and I said "there's still time to change your mind," and she said, well, I've been training for this 2 and a half years. I had to laugh. I know how that goes. (Side note: I watched the marathoners come in, and I was real sad to see her come in at ~3:50ish pace. But then I wondered when her birthday was and if she had a shot after all; but I guess that's more likely if you run a fall marathon, right?)
I loved the course. It's pretty, interesting, there's enough going on, varied. Thumbs up! Just downloaded my Garmin data and I'd had no idea the hill from 4-5 was as tall as it's saying it is. It was such a gradual climb that by the time you were like, hmm, am I working harder than usual?, you were going downhill. I like hills. I think I run them well and it's such a great feeling passing folks on the downhills who are recovering! The hill at mile 8 seemed steeper, but it was shorter and it's not unlike a hill by my house that I often finish training runs with, so I kept telling myself "it's just the Clinton Street climb..." and it totally worked.
That said? I think my favorite distance is about 15k - 10 miles or so. I wish there were more races out there like that. My best miles feel like they are usually run around miles 6-9, so by the time I hit mile 11 or so in a half-marathon, that's kind of the dead zone for me. And especially when my new friend and I split up at the half/full splitting up point, I had fewer people to draft off of.
But I made roadkill! There was this one woman I was running with for a bit -- she was in front of me, then I drafted by her shoulder...and then I passed her. You don't understand. I'm usually the kill in roadkill. But now, well, now I was the road. That last mile felt endless. My time was 1:50:09. I had really, really wanted to round that bend and see a "4" in the minutes area. But hey, it's a PR by over 3 minutes from the Flat Half 2007, so I'm happy with that.
I also didn't feel pain during the race; I got some glimmers of a side stitch that might have become more of an issue if I'd been running the marathon, but everything stayed in check. Breathing was good. It was a PR, and it also was a PR in that I felt totally dialed-in and totally consistent, very present, and, for lack of a better term "with it" during the race. I didn't stop once, didn't walk once during the race--though I ran through all the aid stations but one, and in that case I had to walk for like 10 steps because I can't Gu and run at the same time. That's probably what cost me that damn 10 seconds, but whatever. Maybe I'll try a fuel belt, but I'd always thought those would be tough on my back. Maybe I'll just increase my pace.
I was very finished at the finish. I'm happy with how things went. The day was great. I did things right and it showed. That was good. And now, I want to get faster. I know I have a mid-1:40 half in me. At least. Also, I had kind of wanted to train for a race based primarily on building mileage. I think I topped out at 47 miles a week. I haven't been doing much speed training; I've done maybe 5 tempo runs all year. But now that my mileage is gettign higher, I feel better about adding more speedwork to it. I'd like to do more long tempo runs, I think. Make training a little tougher.
Oh yeah, splits, because I thought this was interesting:Avg pace, 8:24, 8:40, 8:15, 8:33, 8:30, 8:28, 8:00, 8:22, 8:29, 8:37, 8:10, 8:33, 8:17, 8:23, 7:08.
So that was my race for May. May also will be the third try: Go to Asia.
We are going to Japan this month.
Updating
So I thought I would be able to pick back up and talk about the drum lesson(s). But so far life has not afforded me that luxury.
HOWEVER, I am now back to post hopefully more than once every 2+ weeks about what has been going on.
So, here is a (brief?) recap:
Drum lesson #1. We do rudiments. I stand in front of a drum and first read some music. It all comes back to me -- the forced piano playing when i was a kid. Say 6-8 or 9 or so, I played piano. I really don't remember ever wanting to play piano, I'm really not quite sure how it came about. Anyway, it brought me back to those times sitting in front of the teacher's piano, while I wanted to play the song the way I wanted to play it, not the way it was written.
Apparently I'm not much different on the drums.
Don't get me wrong. It was fun as hell (because hell has got to be fun, in a sick perverted twisted way, right?). In a way. I got to be loud. I got to smack drumsticks on this drum and then was told I wasn't loud enough. Kids must love this! No wonder! You have this ... this... forum, where you are taught that it's ok to whale away at something, as long as it's a controlled whaling away.
And I really liked the teacher. This is someone who used to work with my husband, but no longer does, and has been teaching drums for ages, and who has been playing them since about when I started piano.
So I'm tip-tapping increasingly louder on the one drum feeling good, feeling like, hey, maybe I have this beat or something?! Here I am in this great basement in this great Sellwood house, and I'm thinking hey, maybe I'm onto something? Maybe this vision I had of myself when I was 21 or 22 of me about 23 moving to LA and learning to play the drums...maybe that's a vision I could really be, maybe it's not too late (okay I don't want to move to LA but is any of this making sense?). I even have drummer hair! It's getting super-long and the curl is never going away...I'm...I'm totally Slash! (circa 1988)
And then we went on the drumset.
And that's when it all went to shit.
I would tell you the names of the drums in the drumset except that I don't remember. I've kind of...blocked it out. There was the snare drum. And the bass drum. I remember those, because they were the only two I could play at the same time. It wasn't a matter so much of getting the beat, it was keeping it and trying to ... well, it was sort of like the musical version of trying to rub your head and pat your stomach at the same time. Who can do that? I guess drummers.
Teacher was great. Really patient.
A few days after the first lesson: We went to a drum recital that she was leading. All kids, ages from oh I'd say 7-17. Some of those kids were really good! I kind of wished that I had been put in front of a drumset as a kid. But I dount that would have jived with my parents, who I think, did not want the kind of daughter who drummed. I don't know. I just never got that feeling. It's like how I run now--as a kid, I was never encouraged to do it. Not like I was discouraged from it, but like...it wasn't even an issue. It wasn't something that I was to do. We weren't an athletic family, we weren't a musical family.
Because we weren't, I wasn't.
Dunno, though. It's too easy to blame your family for everything. It just is.
But I went back for a second lesson. Just because...I wanted to see again.
And I felt like...why am I here? It wasn't the teaching--again, she was awesome and I would totally recommend her to anyone who would do it. It was just me really realizing that this is not someone I needed or wanted to be. I was never going to buy a drum set, I was never going to make the time to practice--heck, I can hardly keep up this blog, and writing is who I am!
And I was never going to be the kind of person who could do something totally different with the left foot and/or hand than the right foot and/or hand. I love drummers. I have a huuuuuuuuuuge respect for them now; and for that matter, any musician.
It really is a whole language, it's a whole communication, it's a whole expansion of the brain and different kind of smarts than I could have imagined, and certainly not something that I ever considered when I was a kid and music lessons were a chore. It's beautiful. I will listen for the drums in songs, now, not just the melody. I won't take it for granted.
So I could have--and had intended to--describe the actual details and semantics of the drums and how the low-ceiling basement felt and sounded and the beauty of the day. But I realize, now, that's it's ok to have a "me" lesson about the drums instead.
I'm going to post another update about the thing I tried last week, for May. I think there will be something else for May, but I haven't settled on it yet.
HOWEVER, I am now back to post hopefully more than once every 2+ weeks about what has been going on.
So, here is a (brief?) recap:
Drum lesson #1. We do rudiments. I stand in front of a drum and first read some music. It all comes back to me -- the forced piano playing when i was a kid. Say 6-8 or 9 or so, I played piano. I really don't remember ever wanting to play piano, I'm really not quite sure how it came about. Anyway, it brought me back to those times sitting in front of the teacher's piano, while I wanted to play the song the way I wanted to play it, not the way it was written.
Apparently I'm not much different on the drums.
Don't get me wrong. It was fun as hell (because hell has got to be fun, in a sick perverted twisted way, right?). In a way. I got to be loud. I got to smack drumsticks on this drum and then was told I wasn't loud enough. Kids must love this! No wonder! You have this ... this... forum, where you are taught that it's ok to whale away at something, as long as it's a controlled whaling away.
And I really liked the teacher. This is someone who used to work with my husband, but no longer does, and has been teaching drums for ages, and who has been playing them since about when I started piano.
So I'm tip-tapping increasingly louder on the one drum feeling good, feeling like, hey, maybe I have this beat or something?! Here I am in this great basement in this great Sellwood house, and I'm thinking hey, maybe I'm onto something? Maybe this vision I had of myself when I was 21 or 22 of me about 23 moving to LA and learning to play the drums...maybe that's a vision I could really be, maybe it's not too late (okay I don't want to move to LA but is any of this making sense?). I even have drummer hair! It's getting super-long and the curl is never going away...I'm...I'm totally Slash! (circa 1988)
And then we went on the drumset.
And that's when it all went to shit.
I would tell you the names of the drums in the drumset except that I don't remember. I've kind of...blocked it out. There was the snare drum. And the bass drum. I remember those, because they were the only two I could play at the same time. It wasn't a matter so much of getting the beat, it was keeping it and trying to ... well, it was sort of like the musical version of trying to rub your head and pat your stomach at the same time. Who can do that? I guess drummers.
Teacher was great. Really patient.
A few days after the first lesson: We went to a drum recital that she was leading. All kids, ages from oh I'd say 7-17. Some of those kids were really good! I kind of wished that I had been put in front of a drumset as a kid. But I dount that would have jived with my parents, who I think, did not want the kind of daughter who drummed. I don't know. I just never got that feeling. It's like how I run now--as a kid, I was never encouraged to do it. Not like I was discouraged from it, but like...it wasn't even an issue. It wasn't something that I was to do. We weren't an athletic family, we weren't a musical family.
Because we weren't, I wasn't.
Dunno, though. It's too easy to blame your family for everything. It just is.
But I went back for a second lesson. Just because...I wanted to see again.
And I felt like...why am I here? It wasn't the teaching--again, she was awesome and I would totally recommend her to anyone who would do it. It was just me really realizing that this is not someone I needed or wanted to be. I was never going to buy a drum set, I was never going to make the time to practice--heck, I can hardly keep up this blog, and writing is who I am!
And I was never going to be the kind of person who could do something totally different with the left foot and/or hand than the right foot and/or hand. I love drummers. I have a huuuuuuuuuuge respect for them now; and for that matter, any musician.
It really is a whole language, it's a whole communication, it's a whole expansion of the brain and different kind of smarts than I could have imagined, and certainly not something that I ever considered when I was a kid and music lessons were a chore. It's beautiful. I will listen for the drums in songs, now, not just the melody. I won't take it for granted.
So I could have--and had intended to--describe the actual details and semantics of the drums and how the low-ceiling basement felt and sounded and the beauty of the day. But I realize, now, that's it's ok to have a "me" lesson about the drums instead.
I'm going to post another update about the thing I tried last week, for May. I think there will be something else for May, but I haven't settled on it yet.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Drumsticks: not just for chickens anymore
My lesson is tonight. Got drumsticks from a friend, got a notebook from work, got the address of the drum teacher. I have no idea what to expect.
Drumsticks.org has some tips [bolding and brackets = mine]:
Drumstick Tips and Facts
1. Many drummers wear out their drum sticks in the middle of the shaft by playing rimshots all night long. They splinter and eventually wear completely through.
2. Some drummers adopt the name "Sticks" or "Stix" and insist everyone call them that instead of their real name. Hey, I guess we all want to be somebody. [This will not be me. Swear.]
3. Drumstick spinning has really gained popularity through the past several years. There are drumstick spinning books, dvd's, and even many more drumstick spinning.
4. Have you heard about pitch-matching your drum sticks? Many drummers swear by making sure their sticks audibly match each other in pitch.
5. Using metal drumsticks to practice with is still a controversial subject. Many educators believe in this practice while some are convinced that it is harmful to your wrists. [Heh. It's all in the wrist.]
6. Some drummers sand their drum sticks to remove the varnish. They like the feel of so-called naked drumsticks a lot better. Usually it's those drummers that sweat a lot. [That would be me.]
7. Most drummers in this day and time agree that you should roll drumsticks on a flat surface to check for straightness before buying them. [Does this influence the sound? I guess I would assume so, in the way that you want to make sure things are straight when making a guitar or whatever, but...these are the things I don't think about. I have enough time trying to figure out of a taped-up poster is straight. I am a flail.]
8. Some of the more common reasons drummers break drumsticks are; playing too hard, hitting at the wrong angles, and using the wrong drumsticks for their particular style. [This is interesting and something worth pursuing. So bongo drums - no sticks, but what other styles are there?]
9. If your drum sticks are slippery or you're getting blisters from playing hard, consider using drumstick grip tape or other applications such as drumstick wax or Stick Stuff.
10. Remember that buying cheap drumsticks will save you money, but they usually aren't weighted properly nor do they last very long. Stick with the name brands to be safe.
11. Some drummers need more instruction on how to hold drumsticks. You can't be too far back on the sticks, nor should you be too far forward. Find the balancing point. [This reminds me of something and I can't figure out what. Skis?]
12. Light up your drum performance with illuminating or glow drumsticks. Choose between painted glow drumsticks or lighted sticks like the brand new Vic Firth lite stix drumsticks. [Rave-tacular!]
More from drumsticks.com:
"The drumstick is made up of 4 basic parts. The bottom is called the BUTT of the drumstick, the long middle part is called the SHAFT, the taper is called the SHOULDER, and the bead is called the TIP...
Although different types of objects to beat drums have been around for centuries, drumsticks as we know them today have only been around for five or six decades. Most drumsticks are made out of wood. Maple, hickory, and oak are the most popular wood types."
[Heh heh. Wood.]
But until the last day or so, when I was instructed via email to bring a set of drumsticks 5a or 5b with me, I didn't know what that meant. I didn't think drumsticks would be sized. I guess it never occurred to me. Is it the same with guitar picks? I guess anything, really, would have its good products and less-great products.
http://www.rockband.com has forums in which this question is answered:
"Number:The numerical portion signifies the circumference of the stick. In general, the lower the number the larger circumference, and the greater the number the smaller the circumference. For example, the 7A is smaller in circumference than a 5A which in turn is narrower than the 2B. The exception is the 3S, which is larger in circumference than a 2B despite its number.
"Letter:The letter suffix: "S," "B," and "A" originally indicated the recommended application.
"S" model sticks were designed for Street applications such as drum corps and marching band, and are typically the largest diameter sticks.
"B" model sticks were intended for Band applications such as brass bands and symphonic concert bands. Smaller in circumference than the "S" models, they were easier to control and thus especially popular with beginning drummers. To this day the 2B is recommended by teachers practically everywhere as ideal starter sticks. [Um...I was told 5a or 5b to bring, so what's that mean, yo?]"
"A" stands for Orchestra. "A" model sticks were designed for big band or dance type orchestras. They're smaller in circumference than "B" series sticks and lend themselves well for softer type playing. "
[I feel like I am going to be the kind of person who plays drums like "Animal" from the muppets.]
This kind of reminds me of bra sizes. But not really.
Then, for our 3rd randomly-found-URL-of-the-day to get me thinking, I went to drumtips.com, which says in its tip sheet:
"Drum Teachers: Use flash cards as part of your drum lessons to help your students learn note values, dynamic markings, etc. You can make them yourself on 3 X 5 index cards."
And I got scared! Note values? Dynamic markings? This is a complete different language, like Hebrew, I and I am scared of it.
I kinda really thought that playing drums meant that you just kind of hauled away at them. I hadn't realized there was nuance to it. There will have to be a beat. You will have to have rhythm (that, by the way, is a word I can never seem to spell right, never have). I don't have rhythm, I'm a white girl! I took dance sessions at overnight camp when I was 9. I loved it. I thought I was fabulous.
The report back said "tried hard."
And: I'm having visions of piano lessons from about 5-8. I sucked. I really did. While piano playing certainly helped me learn my right from my left, that's about all I could do. My ivories were not tickled. They were more like stressed.
When I was like 21 or 22, and still in college contemplating what was next (I was always contemplating what was next), an alternate reality had involved me moving to LA and learning to play the drums. I wonder how I would have turned out if that had happened.
Sometimes I feel like I made the safe choices too often.
I will not psych myself out. Trying something is good. It is what this is all about. The blog is not called 12 learns. It's called 12 tries. I am merely trying to play the drums. I highly doubt I can afford drum lessons, a kit, or anything else beyond introductory stuff. So it's a try. Being positive, being open.
Bye for now.
Drumsticks.org has some tips [bolding and brackets = mine]:
Drumstick Tips and Facts
1. Many drummers wear out their drum sticks in the middle of the shaft by playing rimshots all night long. They splinter and eventually wear completely through.
2. Some drummers adopt the name "Sticks" or "Stix" and insist everyone call them that instead of their real name. Hey, I guess we all want to be somebody. [This will not be me. Swear.]
3. Drumstick spinning has really gained popularity through the past several years. There are drumstick spinning books, dvd's, and even many more drumstick spinning.
4. Have you heard about pitch-matching your drum sticks? Many drummers swear by making sure their sticks audibly match each other in pitch.
5. Using metal drumsticks to practice with is still a controversial subject. Many educators believe in this practice while some are convinced that it is harmful to your wrists. [Heh. It's all in the wrist.]
6. Some drummers sand their drum sticks to remove the varnish. They like the feel of so-called naked drumsticks a lot better. Usually it's those drummers that sweat a lot. [That would be me.]
7. Most drummers in this day and time agree that you should roll drumsticks on a flat surface to check for straightness before buying them. [Does this influence the sound? I guess I would assume so, in the way that you want to make sure things are straight when making a guitar or whatever, but...these are the things I don't think about. I have enough time trying to figure out of a taped-up poster is straight. I am a flail.]
8. Some of the more common reasons drummers break drumsticks are; playing too hard, hitting at the wrong angles, and using the wrong drumsticks for their particular style. [This is interesting and something worth pursuing. So bongo drums - no sticks, but what other styles are there?]
9. If your drum sticks are slippery or you're getting blisters from playing hard, consider using drumstick grip tape or other applications such as drumstick wax or Stick Stuff.
10. Remember that buying cheap drumsticks will save you money, but they usually aren't weighted properly nor do they last very long. Stick with the name brands to be safe.
11. Some drummers need more instruction on how to hold drumsticks. You can't be too far back on the sticks, nor should you be too far forward. Find the balancing point. [This reminds me of something and I can't figure out what. Skis?]
12. Light up your drum performance with illuminating or glow drumsticks. Choose between painted glow drumsticks or lighted sticks like the brand new Vic Firth lite stix drumsticks. [Rave-tacular!]
More from drumsticks.com:
"The drumstick is made up of 4 basic parts. The bottom is called the BUTT of the drumstick, the long middle part is called the SHAFT, the taper is called the SHOULDER, and the bead is called the TIP...
Although different types of objects to beat drums have been around for centuries, drumsticks as we know them today have only been around for five or six decades. Most drumsticks are made out of wood. Maple, hickory, and oak are the most popular wood types."
[Heh heh. Wood.]
But until the last day or so, when I was instructed via email to bring a set of drumsticks 5a or 5b with me, I didn't know what that meant. I didn't think drumsticks would be sized. I guess it never occurred to me. Is it the same with guitar picks? I guess anything, really, would have its good products and less-great products.
http://www.rockband.com has forums in which this question is answered:
"Number:The numerical portion signifies the circumference of the stick. In general, the lower the number the larger circumference, and the greater the number the smaller the circumference. For example, the 7A is smaller in circumference than a 5A which in turn is narrower than the 2B. The exception is the 3S, which is larger in circumference than a 2B despite its number.
"Letter:The letter suffix: "S," "B," and "A" originally indicated the recommended application.
"S" model sticks were designed for Street applications such as drum corps and marching band, and are typically the largest diameter sticks.
"B" model sticks were intended for Band applications such as brass bands and symphonic concert bands. Smaller in circumference than the "S" models, they were easier to control and thus especially popular with beginning drummers. To this day the 2B is recommended by teachers practically everywhere as ideal starter sticks. [Um...I was told 5a or 5b to bring, so what's that mean, yo?]"
"A" stands for Orchestra. "A" model sticks were designed for big band or dance type orchestras. They're smaller in circumference than "B" series sticks and lend themselves well for softer type playing. "
[I feel like I am going to be the kind of person who plays drums like "Animal" from the muppets.]
This kind of reminds me of bra sizes. But not really.
Then, for our 3rd randomly-found-URL-of-the-day to get me thinking, I went to drumtips.com, which says in its tip sheet:
"Drum Teachers: Use flash cards as part of your drum lessons to help your students learn note values, dynamic markings, etc. You can make them yourself on 3 X 5 index cards."
And I got scared! Note values? Dynamic markings? This is a complete different language, like Hebrew, I and I am scared of it.
I kinda really thought that playing drums meant that you just kind of hauled away at them. I hadn't realized there was nuance to it. There will have to be a beat. You will have to have rhythm (that, by the way, is a word I can never seem to spell right, never have). I don't have rhythm, I'm a white girl! I took dance sessions at overnight camp when I was 9. I loved it. I thought I was fabulous.
The report back said "tried hard."
And: I'm having visions of piano lessons from about 5-8. I sucked. I really did. While piano playing certainly helped me learn my right from my left, that's about all I could do. My ivories were not tickled. They were more like stressed.
When I was like 21 or 22, and still in college contemplating what was next (I was always contemplating what was next), an alternate reality had involved me moving to LA and learning to play the drums. I wonder how I would have turned out if that had happened.
Sometimes I feel like I made the safe choices too often.
I will not psych myself out. Trying something is good. It is what this is all about. The blog is not called 12 learns. It's called 12 tries. I am merely trying to play the drums. I highly doubt I can afford drum lessons, a kit, or anything else beyond introductory stuff. So it's a try. Being positive, being open.
Bye for now.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Tuesday
Drum lesson scheduled for Tuesday! I am going to see if I can borrow some sticks from a friend. Otherwise -- dumb question, where does one buy drumsticks?
And don't say a butcher.
I am now too tired to post about drumstick leanings.
And don't say a butcher.
I am now too tired to post about drumstick leanings.
5
That's almost the amount of weeks it's been since I posted here but not quite.
I love J. to death, but this is how how his presents oftentimes go: Kind of a misfire. No follow thoruhg. But he does try. I'm thinking of a hot-air balloon ride he once promised me for another birthday -- maybe I was 25? 26? Granted, we only had one day off in common--Sunday--and so it had to be on a Sunday, when the wind was right and when the person who would be giving us said balloon ride (someone he knew) was available. We tried maybe 2-3 times, and it never ended up happening.
I'm pretty sure that guy is dead now.
So here's the deal with the drum lessons. Nothing was scheduled yet. This is a person who works with J. I had to ask J. 3+ times for this person's contact info. Then I got the card. Then I emailed the woman...who got back to me right away.
Oh, J. I love you, but...
Anyway, I emailed her and I might be going this Tuesday or next Thursday if all goes well.
I have to bring:
Drum sticks (size 5a or 5b) and a notebook for her to write in.
Okay, first of all, I didn't know drum sticks came in a size? I thought it was something you had, or something that came with a drum set, or...something that you eat off poultry. That makes me wonder -- what are drumsticks called in other languages? Are they called the same thing as what you play drums with?
Drumstick sizes.
Drumsticks.org, here I come.
More in a bit. I can't research and blog at the same time.
Digression!
Especially since I am sitting outside, on the porch, with my battery rapidly waning, but I don't care because Portland is so.damn.good-smelling right now! We have 80 degrees and so the stuff that normally you don't smell this kind of year (vine on the front gate, I am looking at--and loving!--you) is wafting and intoxicating.
These are the west coast smells I moved here for. The smell of star jasmine (about june or so) ,too. The smell of a west coast morning is ... I wish they could bottle it. More than anything, it makes me feel like I am finally home. Even though I only moved here 3 years ago, I feel that this is where I belong.
I should probably be more versed in local politics, history, that I should immerse myself in what was here well before me. But maybe that's the narcissist, maybe that's the intuition, maybe it's the can't-be-bothered-ness of it all, but right now, I don't care what was before. I am thinking now, and I am thinking about my future, but today it's more of the present, or breathing in this ... this now, and I love it. I have a porch I can sit on, with this smell, it's like...diving into sweetness, the sky is the kind of blue I've never seen back east, the colors are every shade of white and pink and blossoms litter the street like nature's new year's. Because that's what it is.
Good lord, how can spring not be anyone's favorite season?
Except I have wasps in the yard.
Okay, enough about me. And...my battery is low. Lates.
I love J. to death, but this is how how his presents oftentimes go: Kind of a misfire. No follow thoruhg. But he does try. I'm thinking of a hot-air balloon ride he once promised me for another birthday -- maybe I was 25? 26? Granted, we only had one day off in common--Sunday--and so it had to be on a Sunday, when the wind was right and when the person who would be giving us said balloon ride (someone he knew) was available. We tried maybe 2-3 times, and it never ended up happening.
I'm pretty sure that guy is dead now.
So here's the deal with the drum lessons. Nothing was scheduled yet. This is a person who works with J. I had to ask J. 3+ times for this person's contact info. Then I got the card. Then I emailed the woman...who got back to me right away.
Oh, J. I love you, but...
Anyway, I emailed her and I might be going this Tuesday or next Thursday if all goes well.
I have to bring:
Drum sticks (size 5a or 5b) and a notebook for her to write in.
Okay, first of all, I didn't know drum sticks came in a size? I thought it was something you had, or something that came with a drum set, or...something that you eat off poultry. That makes me wonder -- what are drumsticks called in other languages? Are they called the same thing as what you play drums with?
Drumstick sizes.
Drumsticks.org, here I come.
More in a bit. I can't research and blog at the same time.
Digression!
Especially since I am sitting outside, on the porch, with my battery rapidly waning, but I don't care because Portland is so.damn.good-smelling right now! We have 80 degrees and so the stuff that normally you don't smell this kind of year (vine on the front gate, I am looking at--and loving!--you) is wafting and intoxicating.
These are the west coast smells I moved here for. The smell of star jasmine (about june or so) ,too. The smell of a west coast morning is ... I wish they could bottle it. More than anything, it makes me feel like I am finally home. Even though I only moved here 3 years ago, I feel that this is where I belong.
I should probably be more versed in local politics, history, that I should immerse myself in what was here well before me. But maybe that's the narcissist, maybe that's the intuition, maybe it's the can't-be-bothered-ness of it all, but right now, I don't care what was before. I am thinking now, and I am thinking about my future, but today it's more of the present, or breathing in this ... this now, and I love it. I have a porch I can sit on, with this smell, it's like...diving into sweetness, the sky is the kind of blue I've never seen back east, the colors are every shade of white and pink and blossoms litter the street like nature's new year's. Because that's what it is.
Good lord, how can spring not be anyone's favorite season?
Except I have wasps in the yard.
Okay, enough about me. And...my battery is low. Lates.
Friday, April 3, 2009
35 and 1/365th
Most anticlimactic bday ever! But that's okay. It's something I've never tried before: Being chill about my birthday.
J. had to do a 24-hour acid study. Fortunately or unfortunately, that means he's not on acid for 24 hours, but he had to wear a wire that went down his throat and into his stomach and taped to his and neck face, along with a box (huh huh, I said box) that looks like an old school discman that recorded the amount of stomach acid he produces in a 24-hour period.
About a week ago he'd called me and said the first day they could get him in was April 2. My first thought was of course, "Fuck." My second--split,split,split-second--thought was, well, better he do this sooner rather than later.
And it's all part of my new selflessness, well selfless attempt at it.
So I said, of course, it doesn't matter, you can still eat and drink, right?
He said yes.
Then he got it put in and then stayed the rest of the day at home.
I felt ok in the morning and went for an 8-mile tempo run. But then that afternoon my stomach started to bug me. I don't know what's up; I think it's a combination of a bug and too much Advil in too short a time. I've been popping J's antacids like mad today in hopes I can run tomorrow.
So my birthday was both of us on our respective couches, laid up in various ways (but not the good one). J. did make sushi rolls and I made some gluten-free cake and we had sake and opened cards and it was wow, super-low key, but hey, you know what? It's not all that bad.
I had expected to have more energy this morning but I slept *horribly* and my stomach was seizing in this weird combination of bloat and awfulness, so I'm kind of a mess today. I'd have stayed home even if I weren't already taking the day off. I'm hoping tomorrow will be better.
But: J. answered the question for me that I didn't even think to ask him: What will be my first of 12 things?
He got me drum lessons.
I've always wanted to learn to play the drums. I'm not sure why.
When I was a kid, I took piano lessons. Again: I'm not sure why. I don't think I actually wanted to learn it, I really can't imagine I would have. It seems like the kind of thing that my parents thought I should know, so I was going to take lessons. Or maybe I just said the word piano aloud a couple times, because I liked it. I was often saying words out loud that I liked. I was a weird kid. Anyway, I ended up taking piano lessons, was totally lousy, didn't enjoy it--my teacher was a woman that I had a feeling didn't like kids (at the time, I couldn't understand that, and now it's all I understand), and I just was totally "meh" on the whole experience. Part of it, I think, was the fact that I didn't want to play the music at the speed it was indicated on the music sheet. But I did like the written "language" of music, that it had its own notations in a language that was so foreign, beyond what I knew as letters...like, say, Hebrew.
It did, however, teach me my right from left. I had a problem with that. To this day, I think of my left hand as making a lower timbre noise than my right hand, which is somehow...lighter.
Anyway!
I'm so excited about drum lessons. J. knows someone at work who teaches, and all I need to get is drumsticks. All I know from drums is playing Rock Band on K & T's Wii and really fucking it up. It's got to be easier than that, right?
Maybe I don't have rhythm. (I have a bitch of a time spelling it, for one.) But I can at least try. Yes, this is actually something I want to try and have for a while, so I don't know if it entirely fits in that "12 things I cringe at, at first" mold...but this is all about breaking the mold. It's an awesome gift and I'm happy for J., not just because of this but because of who he is.
Anyway. I have so totally rambled enough. Posting.
J. had to do a 24-hour acid study. Fortunately or unfortunately, that means he's not on acid for 24 hours, but he had to wear a wire that went down his throat and into his stomach and taped to his and neck face, along with a box (huh huh, I said box) that looks like an old school discman that recorded the amount of stomach acid he produces in a 24-hour period.
About a week ago he'd called me and said the first day they could get him in was April 2. My first thought was of course, "Fuck." My second--split,split,split-second--thought was, well, better he do this sooner rather than later.
And it's all part of my new selflessness, well selfless attempt at it.
So I said, of course, it doesn't matter, you can still eat and drink, right?
He said yes.
Then he got it put in and then stayed the rest of the day at home.
I felt ok in the morning and went for an 8-mile tempo run. But then that afternoon my stomach started to bug me. I don't know what's up; I think it's a combination of a bug and too much Advil in too short a time. I've been popping J's antacids like mad today in hopes I can run tomorrow.
So my birthday was both of us on our respective couches, laid up in various ways (but not the good one). J. did make sushi rolls and I made some gluten-free cake and we had sake and opened cards and it was wow, super-low key, but hey, you know what? It's not all that bad.
I had expected to have more energy this morning but I slept *horribly* and my stomach was seizing in this weird combination of bloat and awfulness, so I'm kind of a mess today. I'd have stayed home even if I weren't already taking the day off. I'm hoping tomorrow will be better.
But: J. answered the question for me that I didn't even think to ask him: What will be my first of 12 things?
He got me drum lessons.
I've always wanted to learn to play the drums. I'm not sure why.
When I was a kid, I took piano lessons. Again: I'm not sure why. I don't think I actually wanted to learn it, I really can't imagine I would have. It seems like the kind of thing that my parents thought I should know, so I was going to take lessons. Or maybe I just said the word piano aloud a couple times, because I liked it. I was often saying words out loud that I liked. I was a weird kid. Anyway, I ended up taking piano lessons, was totally lousy, didn't enjoy it--my teacher was a woman that I had a feeling didn't like kids (at the time, I couldn't understand that, and now it's all I understand), and I just was totally "meh" on the whole experience. Part of it, I think, was the fact that I didn't want to play the music at the speed it was indicated on the music sheet. But I did like the written "language" of music, that it had its own notations in a language that was so foreign, beyond what I knew as letters...like, say, Hebrew.
It did, however, teach me my right from left. I had a problem with that. To this day, I think of my left hand as making a lower timbre noise than my right hand, which is somehow...lighter.
Anyway!
I'm so excited about drum lessons. J. knows someone at work who teaches, and all I need to get is drumsticks. All I know from drums is playing Rock Band on K & T's Wii and really fucking it up. It's got to be easier than that, right?
Maybe I don't have rhythm. (I have a bitch of a time spelling it, for one.) But I can at least try. Yes, this is actually something I want to try and have for a while, so I don't know if it entirely fits in that "12 things I cringe at, at first" mold...but this is all about breaking the mold. It's an awesome gift and I'm happy for J., not just because of this but because of who he is.
Anyway. I have so totally rambled enough. Posting.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
2 days.
I feel good this week. At least mentally. This afternoon I had an unexpected stomach...yeah, nevermind.
Aside from that, Monday morning I woke up like the fog had cleared. I'm not sure why. J. (my husband; for now I will call him J.) was away this weekend and maybe the fact that he arrived home late on Monday helped, that I knew he was coming home. I dunno. Felt like the last week was muddied, and this is a little clearer.
My only question is what I am going to start my 12 tries with. After all I've been thinking...I am not sure. Things I know I want to try:
meat eating
traveling to Asia
learning to ride a bike
race a half-marathon
Asia (Japan) will be in late May. Racing a half-marathon will be in early May.
Riding a bike should probably take place when it is a little warmer and less rainy out. I'm not sure. I'll have to ask my friend B., who has offered to teach me.
So maybe eating meat is something that will happen next month?
I really can't think about eating right now.
Other things that give me an initial "ugh" include:
Aside from that, Monday morning I woke up like the fog had cleared. I'm not sure why. J. (my husband; for now I will call him J.) was away this weekend and maybe the fact that he arrived home late on Monday helped, that I knew he was coming home. I dunno. Felt like the last week was muddied, and this is a little clearer.
My only question is what I am going to start my 12 tries with. After all I've been thinking...I am not sure. Things I know I want to try:
meat eating
traveling to Asia
learning to ride a bike
race a half-marathon
Asia (Japan) will be in late May. Racing a half-marathon will be in early May.
Riding a bike should probably take place when it is a little warmer and less rainy out. I'm not sure. I'll have to ask my friend B., who has offered to teach me.
So maybe eating meat is something that will happen next month?
I really can't think about eating right now.
Other things that give me an initial "ugh" include:
- Anything like geocaching. You know, where you get the coordinates and shit and have to find something? I can take 3 hours to find my car keys on my own.
- Knitting. I am not crafty, but more like I don't think that would be very fun. I have no interest in researching knitting. So maybe not knitting.
Still thinking...pondering. Rock climbing?Portland Rock Gym? (I just typoed "gyn" which perhaps is a slip of some sort, though I don't think Freudian.)
I should learn how to gut a fish. To dissect an artichoke. I love cooking but fear that due to my other hobbies and restricted diet (I avoid gluten) I have wildly swung in the other direction and only eat things in patty or pre-formed form.
Join a CSA. Make more veggies.
Write something with a plot.
Thinking...
Saturday, March 28, 2009
More on why I'm doing this.
I realized I haven't explained why I am doing this, or what the deal is exactly behind 12 tries.
When confronted with something new, often my first chance is "I don't want to do that." I fear. I worry. I figure I'll be bad at something. Then--providing I am, which is what usually happens when you try something that you have never, ever done--I proceed to beat myself up over it repeatedly until I'm convinced I hate it.
But that happens with things I haven't yet tried, but based on past experiences, I will assume I don't like. Like knitting. I don't understand why I should do it when I can go out and buy a perfectly good Thing That Is Knitted, because I'm basing the fact that I can't knit on past issues of me having no craft skills whatsoever.
But that's not entirely true. Writing is an art...but it's really more a craft, I think. Cooking, which I love...is a craft. I think. What exactly is a craft, anyway? I will have to look it up.
(I am crafty. But not always in the appropriate ways. That is perhaps a discussion for another time.)
Some things, I will admit, I am not predisposed toward, genetically or otherwise, to be doing. I'm 5'8" and clumsy -- I'm not setting out to become a professional gymnast. I'm not advanced when it comes to math; I can barely calculate a tip.
I'm not going to try to defy reality, but I am going to try to get out of my comfort zone.
Because when I do, I surprise myself.
In 2005, I decided I would run a marathon. Prior to this, my attitude toward running was that I would run if someone chased me.
I don't entirely know why I did this -- it was in my head even before the New Year's Eve that I said I was going to go it. But I did. I did it with Team in Training, which got me trying something else new, which is fundraising. I exceeded my goal, and ran a marathon.
And now you can't fucking get me to stop running.
Maybe I'll cotton onto something I've tried. Maybe I won't. But it's at least time to give it some thought.
I'm tired of being scared of things I don't know.
5.5 days until 35.
When confronted with something new, often my first chance is "I don't want to do that." I fear. I worry. I figure I'll be bad at something. Then--providing I am, which is what usually happens when you try something that you have never, ever done--I proceed to beat myself up over it repeatedly until I'm convinced I hate it.
But that happens with things I haven't yet tried, but based on past experiences, I will assume I don't like. Like knitting. I don't understand why I should do it when I can go out and buy a perfectly good Thing That Is Knitted, because I'm basing the fact that I can't knit on past issues of me having no craft skills whatsoever.
But that's not entirely true. Writing is an art...but it's really more a craft, I think. Cooking, which I love...is a craft. I think. What exactly is a craft, anyway? I will have to look it up.
(I am crafty. But not always in the appropriate ways. That is perhaps a discussion for another time.)
Some things, I will admit, I am not predisposed toward, genetically or otherwise, to be doing. I'm 5'8" and clumsy -- I'm not setting out to become a professional gymnast. I'm not advanced when it comes to math; I can barely calculate a tip.
I'm not going to try to defy reality, but I am going to try to get out of my comfort zone.
Because when I do, I surprise myself.
In 2005, I decided I would run a marathon. Prior to this, my attitude toward running was that I would run if someone chased me.
I don't entirely know why I did this -- it was in my head even before the New Year's Eve that I said I was going to go it. But I did. I did it with Team in Training, which got me trying something else new, which is fundraising. I exceeded my goal, and ran a marathon.
And now you can't fucking get me to stop running.
Maybe I'll cotton onto something I've tried. Maybe I won't. But it's at least time to give it some thought.
I'm tired of being scared of things I don't know.
5.5 days until 35.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
35 in 10 days
I think it's 10 days. April 2. I don't know. I've never been good at math.
I've never been good at keeping blogs, either. I've tried it about three times, so I already can't vouch for what you'll find or won't find, the quality or quantity of the writing, or how long I'll keep this going. Like journals, like writing projects I start and don't finish, or ones that make it through a first draft but abandoned in the second or third...I can't tell you about the ride you're going to go on other than you'll go on it with me.
Online writing is for people who are organized. I am not. I am just awful at categorizing. I do have a file cabinet, for example, but it is overflowing. It hides mess--as long as I don't open it. It is more like a piling cabinet than a filing cabinet.
Online writing is for people who are brief. I am not. I am long-winded, an overexplainer, and often suffer from verbal diarrhea. I'll write a 30-minute long speech, no problem, but ask me to write an ad and I freeze. It shows in the copy, too.
I've had this blog for months now, but this is my first post. (Duh. That's probably obvious by the fact that it's on the bottom. Or wherever blogspot puts this eventually.)
The purpose of starting this blog is this:
I turn 35 in April. 35 is my lucky number. This means good things.
It also means that I will try something new, once a month, for each month. I can't try 365 different things; I have a job. (I actually have a few jobs, but who's counting.) 35 things is a lot to bite off (and chew). It may turn out that I try 35 (or more) different things in the course of doing 12, but I think one a month will do me good.
It will also allow me the time to learn about and deal with all my feares, neuroses, and research.
I haven't laid out all 12 things yet. That's because I don't know them. Here are a few, in no particular order; although I will dedicate one per month, I'm not sure where to start.
I'll probably post about other things that happen throughout the year; that's usually what happens when I start blogs.
The thing is, who are you talking to? Blogging, to me, is a whole lot of "is this thing on?". You can only say so much online because, say you direct people to it, you know you can't talk about them then, and whoever comes upon this...I don't know.
First blog posts are always so awkward, aren't they? That ... digital throat-clearing, I guess. I like to go to some of my favorite blogs and read the first post.
So right now, this is the pilot to a series that is looking like it won't get beyond the first 13- episode-order. But hey, I got 12 tries--I'm already ahead of myself.
More to come as I get closer to my birthday.
I've never been good at keeping blogs, either. I've tried it about three times, so I already can't vouch for what you'll find or won't find, the quality or quantity of the writing, or how long I'll keep this going. Like journals, like writing projects I start and don't finish, or ones that make it through a first draft but abandoned in the second or third...I can't tell you about the ride you're going to go on other than you'll go on it with me.
Online writing is for people who are organized. I am not. I am just awful at categorizing. I do have a file cabinet, for example, but it is overflowing. It hides mess--as long as I don't open it. It is more like a piling cabinet than a filing cabinet.
Online writing is for people who are brief. I am not. I am long-winded, an overexplainer, and often suffer from verbal diarrhea. I'll write a 30-minute long speech, no problem, but ask me to write an ad and I freeze. It shows in the copy, too.
I've had this blog for months now, but this is my first post. (Duh. That's probably obvious by the fact that it's on the bottom. Or wherever blogspot puts this eventually.)
The purpose of starting this blog is this:
I turn 35 in April. 35 is my lucky number. This means good things.
It also means that I will try something new, once a month, for each month. I can't try 365 different things; I have a job. (I actually have a few jobs, but who's counting.) 35 things is a lot to bite off (and chew). It may turn out that I try 35 (or more) different things in the course of doing 12, but I think one a month will do me good.
It will also allow me the time to learn about and deal with all my feares, neuroses, and research.
I haven't laid out all 12 things yet. That's because I don't know them. Here are a few, in no particular order; although I will dedicate one per month, I'm not sure where to start.
- Eat meat
- Learn to ride a bike
- Travel to Japan (this is a gimme; we're already going this spring)
...and much, much more. I'm open to suggestions, too.
The purpose of continuing this blog is TBD. I'll see how long it can carry on. Maybe that's one of my 12 tries--to keep this going for a year.I'll probably post about other things that happen throughout the year; that's usually what happens when I start blogs.
The thing is, who are you talking to? Blogging, to me, is a whole lot of "is this thing on?". You can only say so much online because, say you direct people to it, you know you can't talk about them then, and whoever comes upon this...I don't know.
First blog posts are always so awkward, aren't they? That ... digital throat-clearing, I guess. I like to go to some of my favorite blogs and read the first post.
So right now, this is the pilot to a series that is looking like it won't get beyond the first 13- episode-order. But hey, I got 12 tries--I'm already ahead of myself.
More to come as I get closer to my birthday.
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