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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.