I Am Not A Mountain Biker

Riding in Sedona, AZ

 For our anniversary on April 1st, Simon and I thought would we would do a repeat of our anniversary from the previous year and head to Sedona to do some mountain biking.  Last year's trip was my very first time on my new mountain bike (which was stolen later that month by some cretins in Phoenix), and I thought that I did pretty well.  I mountain biked off and on throughout the rest of 2014, improving slightly but never really elevating my skill level.  After this year's trip, I've come to the conclusion that I am not, in fact, a mountain biker.  And it's highly likely that I never will be.
 

My kind of trail...no suprises!  And beautiful scenery.

On our most recent mountain bike excursion, I struggled.  I struggled a lot.  As the day went on, I got better, but I was still struggling for the most part.  I would get that little bit of elation as I traversed a gnarly bit of trail peppered with rocks, tree roots, and the occasional hiker.  But then there were times when I would hop off my bike in a panic, afraid that was I was going to go ass-over-tea kettle and end up in the hospital...or the morgue.  There was one instance where my front tire got pointed towards the edge of a ravine, I locked up the brakes, and just kept on sliding.  As my front tire finally found purchase and I was able to come to a stop, pebbles tumbling over the edge in a prequel to what would could have been me, I tossed the bike down in frustration and had myself a good pout.

The eternally patient Simon Weber.  He tries.

 My problem is that I can't suppress my fear of getting injured long enough to actually enjoy an activity that is to most people a really fun experience.  I think I'm athletic enough and I'm in shape in enough to do it, but I'm terrified of it.  Literally terrified.  I've never been an adrenaline junkie.  The thought of engaging in activities that could ultimately result in injury or death is terribly unappealing to me.  I have trouble empathizing with people who get a rush out of these activities.  I wish I could turn off my fear for a minute and just enjoy myself.  But I can't.

Pushing my bike up the hill.  I do this a lot.

I've figured out that I'm more of a dirt trail bike rider...give me a dirty little trail with no boulders and I'm in.  Maybe this trail happens to be through a forest, with gentle uphills and downhills, and maybe a pile of deer poo here and there.  Maybe this trail happens to be on a mountain, in which case I guess technically I could still consider myself a mountain biker.  I think the fact that I ride a mountain bike at all makes me a mountain biker, but living in a community of hardcore mountain bikers has shown me that simply riding a mountain bike does not a mountain biker make.  But that's all right...I leave all those rocky trails to those crazy people...I'm perfectly content on my flat little trails on which there are no surprises.  That's good enough for me.      

People often ask me what I find to be the hardest part of being a nurse.  More often than not, I hear the phrase, "I could never be a nurse…I just don't think I could wipe someone else's butt." If only it were true that the hardest part of my job happened to be the wiping of butts.  I would actually probably consider myself way over-paid if a little poop constituted the most challenging part of my work day.

Wiping a butt?  Bring it on.  I'll wipe butts all day if I have to.  Once you've wiped a few hundred of them, it almost becomes mundane.  I've had extremely close relationships with other people's poop throughout my 12+ years as a nurse.  Including, but not limited to, getting in on my shoes, my clothes, all over the floor, the bed rails, my face, and the ever-enjoyable turd smear that hits just above the wrist in that no-man's land between the end of the glove and the beginning of my shirt.  There's a reason I no longer wear long-sleeved shirts at work.  I can wash my skin if it gets a little filthy.  My shirt?  Well, it just has to come off, and given the cut of scrub tops and the questionable behavior of some of my male patients, let's just say I'd rather not be leaning over them without an undershirt on.  So t-shirts under the scrubs it is.  This may sound odd, but there's something very therapeutic about doing something for a patient that they can't do for themselves, and this extends to cleaning their behinds.  We all know that there's nothing more uncomfortable than unclean nether regions, and in the hospital this is paramount.  So, if my patient is incapable of getting him or herself clean, then I make it my mission to do it for them, and to do it probably better than they would have done it themselves anyway.  It's the least I can do, really.  And it's funny…the majority of the people who wrinkle their noses up at the mere mention of butt wiping, have children whose butts they've had to wipe a myriad of times throughout their childhood.  So they know what it's like to wipe a butt that isn't their own.  Granted, wiping an adult butt is somewhat different than wiping a child's butt, but the basic concept is the same.

The hardest part of my of job is actually much more complex than poop.  How I wish it could be that simple.  In the 12+ years that I've been a nurse, and in the many different hospitals I've worked when I was a travel nurse, I've started to see a shift in healthcare.  Sometimes I think what I'm seeing is regional, as the difficulties faced in one hospital are completely different from the difficulties faced in another.  The hardest part of my job, no matter where I'm at, is this: dealing with people who have no interest in taking responsibility for their end of the healing process.  Getting healthy and staying healthy is a two-way street.  There are things that we can do as healthcare providers, but we can't do everything…and that's where the patient comes in.  They have to want to get better, they have to commit to obtaining a healthy living plan and stick to it.  Hospitals don't cure people.  Doctors don't have magic pills that make everything go away.  Just because a person shows up sick to the hospital, doesn't mean that he or she will leave in perfect health.  You'd be surprised at how often patients leave the hospital disgusted and disappointed because we weren't able to cure them of their ailments.  Ailments that arose from years and years of self-abuse, of poor eating habits, of a sedentary lifestyle, of drinking too much, eating too much, of completely ignoring the genetics with which they were born…somehow it's our fault that we can't reverse a problem that's been years in the making.

I struggle the most with the alcoholics and the drug addicts.  It's one of my weak points as a nurse, and it's something that I try very hard to be aware of when caring for this patient population.  I try to remind myself that no one aspires to be an alcoholic or a drug addict.  Simple as that.  No five-year old on career day stands up and announces to the class that he can't decide between being a veterinarian or an alcoholic when he grows up.  And not that I'm comparing alcoholism to a career, but given some of the people I've taken care of over the years, the same amount of time and effort spent getting to the bottom of a bottle is the same as what one would spend working a full-time job.  It's like being drunk IS their job.

And what's even more sad to me, is that the largest concentration of alcoholics and drug addicts that I've cared for happen to live in what I consider some of the most beautiful parts of the country.  Working on the Gulf Coast in Florida, I saw more prescription drug abuse in the 13 months total that I worked there than in the rest of my 12 years combined.  That's insane.  I don't know why we even bothered drug testing the majority of the population, because so many of them tested positive for opiates.  Opiates that they had obtained legally by prescription from one of the thousands of pain clinics that prey on patients throughout the state.  And the patients felt entitled to it.  I couldn't tell you how many patients would scream at me, ask for narcotics by name, dose, and route of administration.  Well, I probably could, because there was probably at least one patient every shift who behaved this way, so all I would have to do is count the number of shifts I worked, but that would be depressing, so I'd rather not.  I remember going home and asking myself, "what could possibly be so bad in these people's lives that they felt the need to be drugged up all the time?"  Maybe it's hard for me to understand, given that I've never really been addicted to anything.  I would just sit out on the beach, drinking a cold beer, enjoying the sunshine and the waves crashing at my feet, and think, "this is the life!  This is why I work so hard…to enjoy these days off!"  And maybe that's it…maybe a lot of them didn't understand the concept of working hard and having a nice day off at the beach as a reward.  It was ironic to me the number of Floridians I met who never went to the beach.  They would go years without putting their toes in the water and their behinds in the sand.  Why live in Florida if not to enjoy the ocean?  Maybe what some of those people needed was a beach day rather than 4mg Dilaudid given via IV.

The saddest thing about drug abusers is that eventually they'll overdose, and sometimes they might be found in time to receive medical attention, and sometimes they might not.

In northern Arizona, it's the alcoholics that come to the hospital in droves.  Again, this area of the country is so beautiful; it's sunny, there's so much to do outside, there are so many things to see and do…I just don't know what these people are missing in their lives to resort to needing to be drunk all the time.  Every time I would mention this to people asking about the trials of my job, they would automatically assume that since the hospital is so close to the Navajo reservation, that all of our alcoholic patients were Native Americans.  But that just isn't the case.  It's people from all walks of life, and the number of them is staggering.  An Emergency room synopsis of "patient found down, unresponsive, alcohol level >400" is a frighteningly common occurrence.  An alcohol level of >400 would kill a person like me.  Admittedly, the hospital serves a very large area, so we definitely see the worst of the worst, which is scary in its own right.  How many others are there who we don't see?  How many of them go to the emergency room, are treated and released, only to reappear days, weeks, or months later, often for the same problem?  Some seek out treatment, some don't.  Some have family members who are there to offer support, but a lot of them don't.  A lot of them are caught in this vicious cycle, where they know that they need to quit drinking, but everyone in their family drinks, their friends drink, their kids drink…it's tough as nails, if not impossible, to be the only one not drinking in those situations.

Alcohol detox is no joke either…it's one of the few substances that a person can die from during the withdrawal period.  There's usually about a 24-48 hour window between the time of their last drink and before the withdrawal symptoms start.  If the person is a hardcore alcoholic with no intention of stopping drinking, it's actually easier to treat their medical issue as quickly as possible and send them on their way before they start to withdraw.  Sounds terrible, I know.  But honestly…detoxing someone who's just going to hit the bottle the minute they leave the hospital is an exercise in futility.  It's not that we've given up on these people, but the majority of alcoholics who show up at the hospital have been to and failed rehab several times.  Withdrawing from alcohol is very dangerous…not just for the patient, but for the staff as well.  Patients in the throes of withdrawal literally lose their minds.  Almost every time I've been assaulted or nearly assaulted by a patient, it's been by someone withdrawing from alcohol.  Days later when the alcohol has cleared their system, they won't even remember it.  Assuming they remember anything at all.  There is an ugly side to detoxing a functioning alcoholic...sometimes they don't recover their cognitive function.  Their brains have been so damaged by the years and years of alcohol abuse that there's no recovering what's been lost.  I've seen 50 year-old men assigned to nursing homes for the rest of their lives after being detoxed because they cannot safely take care of themselves.  It's a strange concept for someone outside of the hospital setting, but it's very real to those of us in the trenches day in and day out.          

Why Does Anyone Need More Than One Blog?

I've asked myself that.  I have no idea.  I've always been the type of person to have more than one of any given thing.  Three dogs.  90 pairs of shoes (okay, that's probably an exaggeration, but probably only slightly).  Three bikes.  2 cars.  5 pairs of work shoes to go with 18 pairs of scrubs.  You get the drift.  Why have one when you can have more than one? 

So the premise behind this blog is very simple.  For 10 minutes a day, I write about whatever I want.  It doesn't have to be thoughtful.  It doesn't have to be insightful.  It doesn't even have to make sense.  The idea behind it is to get me to write more, and to write about things that maybe I wouldn't normally write about.  So here is my first post.  A post explaining my first post.  How exciting!

Writing is tough.  If it was easy, everyone would do it.  I guess you could say that about just about anything.  I've always been interested in writing, and given a lot of the positive feedback I've gotten along the way, I've come to the conclusion that maybe I'm a little bit good at it.  Of course, I've never submitted any of my writing to any sort of publishing medium, at which point I'm sure my ideas of my writing prowess would be rendered into an unrecognizable rubble.  But that's all right.  Maybe someday I'll get the balls to submit some of my better stuff.  I have no idea to whom or in what context any of my writing might appeal to anyone outside of those who know me, but you never know.  If every single writer hid behind their fear of rejection, we'd have absolutely nothing to read at all.

So maybe I don't need to be published.  Maybe entertaining my friends and family with my musings on all things from chocolate chip cookies to bathroom habits to why the front of a backpack is actually the back (Simon knows what I'm talking about, even though he doesn't agree with me) is more than enough for right now.

Given the short time limit of 10 minutes (my time is almost up!), this is going to be a struggle for me, as my typical blogs have me spending hours in front of the computer for days on end.  But it'll be nice.  Maybe most of my readers will prefer this length, as a common complaint I used to hear about my blogs is that they're too long.  So here are the short ones.  I hope you enjoy.  And I hope I stick with it.

Cheers!  

 

Homesick Part 2: On the Mend

Simon and I with the pugs the morning we moved to Flagstaff, AZ

I just want to start out by thanking everyone for your really nice comments to my last post.  That really meant a lot, and made me feel a lot better about how I was feeling.  I had actually debated for a few days about posting it at all, afraid that too many people would be offended and think I was pointing fingers at them whilst shouting, "You never come visit me!"  That wasn't my intent at all, so if you were put out by what I had written, I apologize...I truly meant nothing negative towards anyone in what I wrote.  I've found that expressing myself through writing is one of the best ways for me to process these thoughts that are bouncing around in my head.  And sometimes seeing things written out and rereading them over and over again helps to clarify what I'm feeling.  It also gives me ideas and helps me to determine what steps I need to take in order to work towards implementing change.

Christina, Mike, and Simon at the Weiner Dog Wars in Shakopee, MN

Simon and I have been talking about this a lot lately...more for my benefit than for his.  He's pretty laid back about just about everything, while I'm the one wringing my hands worrying about how we're going to fit everything in, what everyone in our lives is going to think, and how we're going to deal with hurt feelings along the way.  I think Simon has a better grasp of the concept "The way things are is the way things are."  Whereas I'm more likely to be like "The way things are stinks."  Did anyone get my reference to the movie Babe right there?  No?  So there's this conversation going on between a cow and a duck, and they're talking about how people eat animals.  The duck is upset because the people are eating one of his friends, while the cow has resigned herself to her lot in life.  A little morbid, really.  Anyway, it's probably one of those things you'd have to see...assuming you like movies about talking animals.  Babe ranks up there as one of my all-time favorites.  I loved it so much, in fact, that my friend Heather and I used to play one of the songs from Babe on our radio show back in college.  Thank you, Heather, for humoring me.

Simon and his niece Valerie

 So that got way off track, didn't it?  I'm obviously feeling better, as I realized in hindsight that my previous blog had little to none of my typical humor and self-deprecation.  It's good to be back.

So Simon and I have some ideas, and I'm hopeful that they'll meet the needs of our friends and families...and ourselves, of course. Obviously we can't have everything, which is ultimately what I want, but it'll have to do.  We're thinking that something along the lines of longer trips to Minnesota less often is going to be our best bet.  Last year Simon and I flew to Minnesota a total of 6 times between the two of us...four trips together, 2 trips separately.  Taking into account that our work responsibilities restrict us to about one trip a month, that means we spent half the year working around trips to the same destination.  And I was happy to do it.  I was happy to see friends and family back home, but there were also a lot of other places and people that I had wanted to see who just didn't make the cut.  If we could taper down the Minnesota trips to twice a year, that would free up some time to get to some of the places and people we haven't seen...or to just hang out here in Arizona and have people out to visit.

Simon and I at the Olympic Torch in Vancouver, B.C.

All of this can change tomorrow, of course, but given my gripes about spending quality time with friends and family versus spending quality time out here, this seems to be the best option.  That option also frees up time for us to take one or two international trips a year, which is one of our goals starting this summer.  Of course, this summer we're going back to Vancouver, but instead of staying in the city the entire time, we're going to hopefully find our way up to Whistler to spend a few days running around up there.  I hear that mountain biking there in the summer is pretty epic, so we're really looking forward to that trip.  We've pushed our Iceland and our Thailand trips to 2016...they're just not in the cards this year with all the other trips we have planned.  And pushing them back gives us more time to save up...flights to both of those destinations are pretty pricey.

Ellen and I at the Syndey Zoo in Sydney, Australia

Speaking of which, I need to renew my passport before the trip this summer.  Finally!!  I can get rid of the ugliest picture of me in existence.  For real.  I'm truly not one of those people who criticize every photo of myself, but my passport photo is the worst.  The. Worst.  I'm actually surprised they let me into foreign countries with that thing.

My favorite picture of Franko and Charlotte at Smokey Hollow Lake in Minnesota

It's funny how stressful traveling for fun can really be.  There's all the planning, the coordinating, lining up a reputable dog sitter, making sure we've got all our hours in and hopefully enough PTO to cover the days we'll be gone...and the expense, of course...always the expense.  Each trip we take is book-ended by a considerable amount of stress, and hopefully traveling less often will help alleviate some of that.

Ellen and I in the Daintree Rainforest near Port Douglas, Australia

I wish there were like 5 of me who all shared the same brain, so I could be in multiple places simultaneously, and be able to collectively enjoy each experience.  Wouldn't that be cool?  I could be holding a friend's baby whilst hanging out on a lake in Minnesota, catching the northern lights in Iceland, drinking a beer in Portland, chasing a friend's chickens around in Arkansas, and watching the humpbacks roll through coastal California...all at the same time.  That's what I want.  Let's work on that.  Sounds like something out of one of Simon's science fiction books.  Maybe someday.  :)           

Homesick

At the base of Vernal Falls in Yosemite National Park

So I've been feeling a little homesick lately. 

It's hard to logically explain the feeling of homesickness at this stage in my life.  I don't often feel homesick...in fact, this is one of the first times since I've been out on my own that I can actually acknowledge feeling homesick.  I think part of the reason is that for a long time, I've felt that there's really no place where I belong.  I don't know if this was brought about by travel nursing for so long, or something deeper seeded than that, but no where really feels like home to me anymore.  I honestly don't know when I last felt like I belonged anywhere.  That sounds kind of sad, when I read over that statement.  I don't feel sad.  I just feel kind of...detached, for lack of a better word.  I feel like my location in life is never going to feel permanent, that I'm never going to find that one place where I can just "be."  And it's not that I'm unhappy with where I am right now, or anywhere else that I've been in the last decade...it just doesn't feel the way I think home should feel.  Maybe I have far too much free time on my hands if I'm able to sit here and think about it for any length of time.  Maybe it's not the location that's the problem, maybe it's me.

Hiking with Matt and Suzie in North Carolina

What is home anyway?  Seems like there are so many factors that go into making a place your home.  Many of those factors have very little, if anything, to do with the dwelling you happen to reside in.  "Home is where the heart is," right?  Isn't that some sort of quote that you see embroidered and framed on the wall in your grandma's house?  Brandi Carlile, one of my favorite musical artists, has a song with the phrase, "Wherever is your heart, I'll call home."  Or, from Edward Sharpe "Home is wherever I'm with you."  Or something similar to that...I'm terrible with song lyrics, but you get the gist.  So there seems to be this repeating theme...wherever your heart is, whomever is with you who's near and dear, that's where your home is.  So home could really be just about anywhere...an RV, a cabin in the north woods, an apartment in downtown Chicago, a farm in Nebraska.  You just have to figure out, in your heart, what and who is important to have around you.  And that's where I appear to be struggling.

Me and my college buddies on a trip to Alaska

Most of the things and people who are near and dear to me are scattered all over the country.  My family, for the most part, is in Minnesota.  My closest friends from college are in Minnesota.  My favorite ice cream place is in Fort Myers, Florida.  My favorite seafood restaurant is in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.  My favorite movie theater is in La Crosse, Wisconsin.  My favorite place to see a show is the Varsity Theater in Minneapolis.  One of my favorite hikes is to Nevada Falls in Yosemite National Park in California.  My favorite place to catch a sunset is Captiva Island, Florida.  My favorite downtown area is in Burlington, Vermont.  Denver has the Red Rocks Ampitheater.  Florida has the beaches.  California has...everything.  I could go on and on about all the places I've been and how I've managed to find so many favorites along the way.  I have friends and family in California, Oregon, Arkansas, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Florida, Colorado, Vermont, Massachusetts, Iowa...many of whom I haven't seen in years because there just isn't enough time or money for me to do so.

Sunset with Ellen and Fred on Captiva Island, Florida

And that takes me to my traveling.  I'm literally always going somewhere.  The current trip hasn't even started before I'm planning the one after that, and the one after that.  Sometimes I feel like where I'm at is just a jumping off point to where I'm going next.  I work crazy hours before and after each trip, just to ensure I have the time off to go where I want, when I want.  All this working and traveling leaves me very little quality time in Flagstaff.  And to be honest, I'm not being fair to Flagstaff.  Flagstaff is fantastic.  The food, the people, the town, the outdoor activities, the weather, the workplace....everything here is about as good as it's going to get.  I love that it's sunny here almost every single day.  I love the mild winters, the summer storms, and waking up every morning to sunshine and a view of the mountains.  I love that on the very coldest of days, I can spend 2 hours in the car and get a sunburn in Phoenix.  Flagstaff has just about everything I could possibly want.  Except for the fact that most of my favorite people are somewhere else.  And how does one choose?  How do you choose between the place that makes you happiest, and the people who make you happiest?  Of course, I'm lucky to have my happy person living here with me, along with my little dog, so there's that...that's more important than anything, really.  Simon is the happiest I've ever seen him in Flagstaff.  I think I could live just about anywhere in the country with him and pretty much find a silver lining to keep me there for a spell, but Flagstaff was the very first place we'd been where Simon actually wanted to stay.  I love that he's so happy here.

My family and I at my cousin Kory's wedding

 Simon and I recently had a really long talk about moving closer to home.  Probably not back to Minneapolis or Rochester or St. Cloud, but La Crosse, Wisconsin is looking promising (favorite movie theater...hahaha!).  Simon and I did a travel job for 6 months in La Crosse back in 2008, and we really, really like that town.  There's water for kayaking and paddle boarding, there are bluffs to hike and mountain bike, there are cheese curds at almost every restaurant, both of the hospitals there are great medical centers, we could drive to see our friends and families.  All good points.  But we hesitate.  Were we really that happy in the Midwest?  Endless months of cold, grey skies.  The winters drag on and on.  The summers are hot and buggy, and sometimes terribly rainy, and sometimes very short.  And is weather really that big of a deal?  Simon thinks so.  He's borderline miserable in the Midwest, in regards to the weather.  He's made the comment that if he's crabby and miserable in the Midwest, then he's not any fun to be around.  Which is a valid point.  I find that I was better about doing my laundry when I lived in the Midwest...there were so many rainy days that I didn't feel bad spending the day washing my dirty clothes.  Here in Flagstaff all those domestic chores fall by wayside as I wait for a rainy day in which to complete them.  And maybe I'm better at forgetting the weather.  Yeah, Minnesota is cold in the winter.  It's humid in the summer...yeah yeah yeah, that's how it is.  But also don't think that I'm as affected by weather as some people.  But I could be forgetting that as well. 

My buddy Franko and me on his wedding day

It seems that most of the people in my life are perfectly content with where they are...or at the very least, they've made peace with it.  Maybe to some people, there's more to where they're living than being happy with their physical location.  Maybe I'm unrealistic in thinking that there's someplace in this world that is the perfect fit for me, where I'll feel like I belong and will want to stay there forever.  Or not.  Maybe I'm just one of those people who will never be fully content anywhere, and will need a change of scenery every few years or so.  Maybe everyone craves a change of scenery, but maybe not everyone has the opportunities or the motivation to do so.  I think what this all boils down to is the idea that everyone has their shit together but me.  I know that's not true, and I know that we've all got different kinds of shit we're attempting to juggle around every single day...I just feel like my shit is all over the place.  Kind of a gross visual, but there it is.

Hiking with Mark and Liz outside Little Rock, Arkansas

I'm grateful that my position in life allows me to travel as much as I do.  But maybe it's time that I stayed put for a while.  Maybe I should take the time to "just be" in Flagstaff, to really appreciate what I've got going on around here.  Simon and I were talking the other day about how last summer, we never once went up to Lake Powell to go camping and kayaking.  We've barely explored the hundreds of miles of hiking trails in Sedona, and northern Arizona as a whole.  We haven't been to any of the national parks in Utah yet, which are only a few hours drive away, and we've been here almost 3 years.  I spend so much time going back and forth to where I've already been, that I haven't fully experienced where I am right now.  Maybe it's time to stick around for a while...really appreciate what it is that captivated Simon enough to stay here.

Hiking in La Crosse, Wisconsin

My biggest struggle with staying here is that I know there are people in my life right now who I would never see again if I didn't travel.  I know there are a myriad of reasons why people don't travel as much as I do, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting a little bit when people ask me when I'm coming home next, rather than starting the conversation about coming out to where I am.  I was guilty of it when I lived in Minnesota and friends of mine would move away...I can count on one hand and have fingers to spare the number of times I got myself on a plane or took a road trip to visit friends and family who lived in other states.  I get it.  Setting the plans in motion to travel is kind of a pain in the ass, especially if you don't like trip planning.  And given finite resources, maybe northern Arizona isn't very high on most people's lists of places to go.  But...that's how it is when you move away.  I know this.  I knew this long before I hit the road with the travel nursing gig.  And for the most part, I'm okay with it, because I can empathize with just about anyone's situation in regard to traveling, or lack thereof, because I used to loathe traveling.  I try not to take it personally, but every now and then I struggle with it.  And it's stupid and maybe a little selfish of me to be put out if I don't personally fit into someone's travel plans.  I know when I travel, especially when I go back home, there are lots of people who I don't get to see.  And that's just how it is.

Hiking with the Pattens in Sedona, Arizona

And you know, maybe at the base of it, I just have a lot less going on in my life than most people.  I don't have kids whose school schedules and extracurricular activities I have to maneuver around.  I work 3 days a week at a job that requires little to none of my time or energy outside of the workplace.  My boss is amazing at giving me time off, as long as I'm willing to stay flexible and am being fair to the rest of my coworkers in respect to their time off requests.  I'm doing pretty well financially, no longer living paycheck to paycheck, and am actually able to squirrel away some extra funds every month.  My little dog is about as low maintenance as a dog can get, and I've found some really wonderful pet sitters here in town.  For all the reasons as I can come up with to not travel, there are just as many that are favorable to traveling.  There are times though that I feel guilty for choosing to indulge on a trip to somewhere I've never been over traveling home to see friends and family.  And I know that's a battle that's going to go on in my life from here on out...there's just no getting around that.

Cross country skiing with Brie in Flagstaff, Arizona

I guess it all comes down to what is important.  And to break it down even more than that...it's people vs. location.  It seems silly to think that a physical location could trump friends and family, but it does.  All the time.  Families and friends are moving farther and farther away from each other every day, doing their own thing, living their own lives away from everyone and everything that they knew and were most comfortable with.  And how do they reconcile missing out on the events of the people back home?  The babies being born, the birthdays being celebrated, the holidays spent together, the random impromptu cook outs in a friend's backyard, meeting up with a girlfriend for coffee...those are the things I miss the most.  Even if I was home, I know I wouldn't make it to every holiday, every birthday, or every cook out, but the opportunity would be there...whereas now it's barely an option.  Working a job that is up and running 24/7 barely gives me the opportunity to begin with...holidays, birthdays, weekends...they're all just another day in the life of a nurse.  Add thousands of miles between me and my friends and family, and it amounts to me missing out on just about everything.  But...again, I chose this.  I chose to move away.  And I need to accept that, but on days like today, it's hard.  You'd think after almost 10 years away from home that I'd be used to it by now.

Some of my girlfriends from college

Being away has been good for me though...I cherish the time spent with friends and family here in Arizona and on my trips back home, whereas before I'm sure I took it for granted.  I might not be there for holidays or birthdays or weddings or any of those other events that happen every day, but I feel that I try to make the most of the time that I do have.  That's about the best I can do, really.  Outside of offering the spare room in our house to anyone who happens to want to visit, that is.  Open invite to anyone who wants to come visit.  I'll even cook for you...and clean the bathroom...I'll even go so far as to pull the hair out of the drain (I hate cleaning bathrooms, and I only do it when people are coming over...hahaha!).  In the event that you're some peripheral creepy friend-of-a-friend who stumbled upon this blog by pure chance...then maybe we need to have a meet-and-greet in neutral territory before I agree to share a living space with you...hahaha!

Grandma's 90th birthday with a smattering of my cousins

So there it is...a long blog about me wondering why I just can't have it all...friends and family nearby, perfect weather, fantastic ice cream and the beach just a short little drive away...that seems totally doable, right?  Overall, my life is pretty dang good, and I have a lot to be thankful for and very little to complain about.  I hope this finds you and yours happy and in good health.  And you know, if you have some airline miles burning a hole in your pocket, I know of a pretty cool couple in Flagstaff, Arizona that would love to have you out for a visit.  Just sayin.'  :)   

Simon's family met my family at Minne's Diner

                           

Ruminating...

So I haven't posted in a while.  I've been thinking about stuff, doing stuff, been running all over the place, eating lots of Chipotle…you know, all the normal things I do that keep me from writing much.  I'm in the process of packing my bags for my upcoming trip to Australia.  I leave on Tuesday, and I'm geeking out a bit about the whole thing.  For someone so terrified of traveling, I sure do a lot of it.  I typically really enjoy myself once I get where I'm going…it's the getting there that has me all worked up. 

I hate flying.  Hate it.  Although I hate it less than I used to.  I used to worry all the time about the plane crashing.  And then one day, while several thousand feet up in the air, I realized that regardless of whether or not the plane crashed, sitting there worrying about it wasn't going to change the outcome.  The flight was literally out of my hands, and all I had to do was sit there and just go with it.  So I did.  And I do.  But I still don't like it.  Knowing that I'll be sitting on a plane for 15 hours, over nothing but the Pacific Ocean, will be a first for me.  Prior to this trip, my longest flight will have been somewhere in the ballpark of 5-6 hours long.  The nice thing about this flight is that it'll happen at night, so in theory, I should just sleep through most of it.  15 hours of sleep is a long stretch for me, but I've slept 19 hours before, so hopefully I can channel that again and check out for most of it.  I'll also be self-medicating a little bit, so that'll help.  Or not.  Maybe this will be my body's first time to have a negative reaction to Benadryl and I'll be wired and crazy.  I guess time will tell.

So you know why else I don't like flying?  I'm a puker.  I've puked on planes lots of times.  It's always unpleasant, and people sitting near me are always super disturbed by it.  Probably because the recycled airplane air, which is gross to begin with, is not helped at all by the smell of someone's vomit circulating through it.  And really, it's awful to watch someone puke.  Being a nurse, I get to see people puke all the time.  And it always sucks.  You basically just stand there and watch them do it.  Maybe rub their back a little bit, although most people in the throes of vomiting don't really like to be touched, especially not by a stranger.  However, if you're ever sitting next to someone who is annoying and doesn't get the hint that you have no interest in talking to them, I recommend throwing up a little bit…or at least making a show of holding the little puke bag whilst dry heaving.  Nothing quiets a plane down like someone heaving up their lunch.    

So, in the interest of distracting myself from all things relating to airplanes (as I hear one fly overhead at this very moment), I'll just blather on in no particular order or sense, and I'll be thoroughly distracted.  Know that I will be leaving the writing at some point to go pick up my Chipotle order.

I know I'm 35, and that maybe I'm a little late to the game, but I don't take selfies.  I loathe that word, actually, and I have just about as much disdain for the act itself.  I don't quite understand people who constantly take pictures of themselves…and only themselves.  Most of the time, the photos are so close to their face that there is nothing else even remotely interesting in the photo…besides their face, I guess.  I know what you look like.  I know what you looked like yesterday…and the day before that.  And here you are again, taking another picture of yourself, only this time you're making a weird face by sticking your lips out.  Duckface?  Is that what they're calling it?  Ducklips?  I have no idea.  I don't do that.  Maybe if I liked my face better, I would take a selfie.  But I'm not a huge fan of my face.  And I'm not fishing for words of praise or anything here…I just really don't like looking at myself.  There are so many other things I'd rather look at than my own face…with the right eye that has developed a weird squint over the years, or the fact that at 35, I still get pimples, or that I still don't know how to put make-up on or do my hair.  All good reasons not to take a selfie.  Not that everyone needs to look glamorous in a selfie…have a look at the internets and see all the selfies out there…glamorous is definitely not the word I'd use to describe most of them.  But they're putting themselves out there…for reasons known only to them.    

You know another reason why I don't like pictures of myself?  I have come to the conclusion that I have creepily long fingers.  Next time you see a photo of me, take a look at my hands.  They're weird looking, especially when I'm holding something.  And it's not like I have big hands…they're actually kind of small, but the fingers are long and skinny and strange.  They're also really really bendy…so maybe that's why they look weird.  I don't think they look creepy and weird in real life (unless I'm bending them backwards on purpose to be creepy to Simon), but they definitely do in photos.    

Now I must leave to go get my burrito.  Chicken, black beans, cilantro-free brown rice, lettuce, and cheese.  Arguably, probably the most boring burrito that they make.  But hey, it works.  Dammit…I was going to do the Quesarito this time…I forgot…again.  Fat kid fail…again.  I told Simon that I like to eat burritos in the evening as a carb-load for my exercise classes in the morning.  He told me that's not how that works.  Meaning, I shouldn't be carb-loading for exercise classes.  Hahaha!  I tell you what though, I kick ass in spin class the morning after taking down a burrito.  There's something to it, I tell you!  And the burrito so far, is best.  Chicken & waffles, pizza, or Thai food?  Not so much. 

So, the burrito has been eaten, and it was delicious.  And I'll have you know, I walked right into that Chipotle in my old man sweater and my Minnetonka slippers with my hair a giant disarray of a slightly unmanageable bun held up by some bobbi pins clinging for dear life.  Truly, a sight to behold.  The definition of slovenly.  And that glorious burrito was enjoyed whilst watching an episode of New Girl, featuring my doppelgänger, Zooey Deschanel.  I didn't come up with that, Simon did.  I guess if I was going to have a say in having anyone as a doppelgänger, she's a pretty darn good one to have.  At least it's not Jack Nicholson or Kathy Bates or the dog from Airbud.  

Hahaha!  So this blog isn't about me being self deprecating, although it kind of seems that way, doesn't it?  I'm just being me…rambling out the realities of life.  Sometimes I'm painfully realistic.  Having the idea in the back of my head that I'm going to die in the middle of the Pacific Ocean on Tuesday due to a horrific plane crash might have something to do with it.  It's not that I'm scared of dying…I'll get to that one of these days; I just don't want to it to happen yet…or as the result of a plane crash.  That's all.  Makes sense.  At least I think it does.

So I went to Vegas a few weeks ago with some girlfriends from college.  Vegas is weird.  I could write a whole blog entry about that city.  I actually have one all typed up, but I don't like it so I'm not posting it at the moment.  If I die in the plane crash, maybe Simon can post it for me posthumously, and maybe then I'll be discovered and published and he'll get all kinds of money and won't have to work anymore and can just be an artist.  Something like that.  Truthfully, the Vegas blog isn't very good.  I've done better.  And that's why I didn't post it.  I think if you're going to take the time to do something, make sure you do it well, and make sure it's something that you're proud of.  I might tweak it, or I might scrap it.  Or I'll just let it sit there.  I've got like 8 blogs just sitting there.

One thing I will tell you about Vegas, is that I learned for the very first time how very awkward I must look when I'm dancing.  So awkward, in fact, that I scared some halfway interested boys away.  Hahaha!  They took one look at me doing whatever it was I was doing, and beelined it in the other direction, leaving their friend, who was hitting on my friend, in the dust.  And I looked cute that night, dammit.  Little black dress, red high heels, my hair was actually behaving itself…but my dance moves (or lack thereof) betrayed me.  Ah well, it's not like I wanted to dance with either of them anyway.  To be fair, I overcompensate for my lack of dancing ability by over-doing the most ironic of dance moves…I'm a big fan of raising the roof.  It's funny, if nothing else.  At least I think so.  

I've been having trouble with this whole checked-baggage thing.  I can't remember the last time I flew anywhere and actually checked a bag.  Honestly, it was probably back in 2008 when I flew to Alaska with my college buddies.  I remember the strangest things.  Anyway, so there are all these weight restrictions on the bags now.  Or maybe there always were, but I think 50 pounds is not very much for a girl going on a trip for 12 days.  I have to have shoes, and pants, and dresses, and swim wear…not to mention a voltage converter, 3 cameras, and an iPad.  All that crap adds up to 50 pounds pretty freaking fast.  But then…my friend Ellen saved the day by telling me that I can have a carry-on AND a personal item, in addition to my checked bag!  Three whole bags!  Who knew?  She did, apparently.  And so does everyone else, apparently.  And here sits Stef, with the dunce cap on, apparently, wondering how on earth I'm going to get everything to fit and still be light enough to get on the plane without an incident…or without wearing like 5 layers of clothes…you know…I had actually considered that. 

15 hours on a plane is a long freaking time…it's a long time to be sitting anywhere.  I just keep thinking about it.  How many times am I going to have to go to the bathroom?  I hope I don't have to poop on the plane.  I don't want to be one of those people who poops on a plane.  I mean, if you gotta go, you gotta go…I doubt there's really anyone out there who actually WANTS to poop on a plane, right?  Maybe there is.  I've pooped in a lot of places, but I don't really catalogue them (contrary to what people might think), and I don't have any goals as to where I'd like to poop.  In fact, I probably I have goals as to where I'd like to NOT poop, and an airplane is pretty high up on that list.  You know what I think would be funny?  Taking a poop on a cactus.  Like one of those shorter ones next to a hiking trail.  People would walk by, see the poop, and ask, "is that poop?"  Yes indeed.  It is poop.  And then they'd sit and they'd wonder about who did it, and why, and then some bizarre story would arise about the cactus pooper.  I think that would be funny.  I should try that sometime.  I'd probably fall over and then I'd be covered in cactus spines and poop.  That wouldn't be very funny.  Well, it would be eventually, just not right then.

I was in Target today and I saw one of my former patients there, wandering through the aisles getting some groceries.  It's weird to see them out and about like that…in normal clothes instead of a hospital gown with their bum sticking out the back.  I don't remember her name or even why she was in the hospital, but I recognized her.  I don't know if she recognized me.  She didn't let on that she did, if she did.  I thought about going up and saying hello, but I just don't know if that's appropriate, or if she'd even remember me, or if she'd even want to think back to when she was in the hospital.  I remember that she was really nice, and that she grew up in Minnesota…we had all kinds of conversations about Minnesota when I was taking care of her…mostly about food.  Us Minnesotans are very food motivated.  There are lots of Minnesotans out here in Arizona…I enjoy meeting them, but prefer to do it outside the hospital.  What's interesting to me is that in the two years I've been working as a nurse out here, this is the first time I've seen a patient outside the hospital.  Flagstaff really isn't all that big; you'd think I would have run into at least one patient before today.

Anyway, I can hear Cooper snoring from the bedroom.  He's been trying to get me to come to bed for hours now.  He's so weird about that.  I'm realizing in the absence of Brie that he's weird about a lot of things.  Like how he only wants to be under the blankets on the bed in the morning…not at any other time or in any other place.  How he always has to run to his food dish and look inside of it, just to make sure that the food is still there.  How he always has to go to the bathroom at least three times when I'm sitting on the couch watching TV…but if I'm reading a book, he just lies there next to me and sleeps.  It's all very bizarre.  It makes me feel a little bad that I was so wrapped up with Brie and her various ailments, that I don't know if he's always been this weird and that I'm just noticing it now because she's not here taking up all my attention, or if maybe this is how he is without her.  Tough to tell.  I get a kick out of him though.  He's my little buddy.            

And with that, I'm going to bed.  I've carb-loaded, and I've got a weight lifting class in the morning.  And some Victoria's Secret coupons to use.  And a walk and lunch with a good friend in the afternoon.  And maybe tomorrow, with any luck, I'll manage to get these bags packed.

Cheers!

    

Stefanie's "I HATE Running" Tips and Tricks

So, I started running just over 2 years ago.  It's been a labor of love ever since.  It all began with a friend of mine suggesting that I run a half-marathon with her at Disney World.  The Disney Princess Half Marathon, to be exact.  She sold it to me as a race where we would get to wear tutus, we'd run through the Disney park, and just have ourselves a gay old time while ensconced in layers of tulle and fancy athletic wear.  Thirteen (0.1…can't forget that minuscule little 10th of a mile!) miles was a long freaking way for someone who hadn't ran since her mid-20's.  I had a brief stint there following a break-up that found me at the gym, pounding out my new found singlehood on the treadmill.  And all was going well until I pulled something in one of my hamstrings.  And that pretty much ended my relationship with running…until 8 years later when I was lured back into it by the promise of my first-ever trip to Disney World.

Me, Ellen, Candi, and Kate at the Disney Princess Half Marathon

I don't like running.  Given the number of races I've run since the fall of 2012 (9 races and counting), one would come to the conclusion that I do, in fact, like it.  I do not.  Let's not kid ourselves.  I am a lazy person.  Some days the only activity I can muster is getting myself out of bed.  But here's the thing I've realized in the past couple years…I need to take control of my fitness.  One way or another, it has to be done.  Gone are the days of snarfing down a bag of Doritos with reckless abandon and not seeing a single pound of evidence reveal itself on the scale.  I frequently get out of bed somewhat stiff and sore, and I notice that my endurance for everyday things, like climbing flights of stairs, is starting to wane.  I'm getting older, slower, lazier, squishier, and that's not likely to change as I continue to add years to my body's odometer.  I've been made aware of the genetics that have been given to me, and I'm fully aware of my eating choices, and the choices that are made for me in this great "fattening of America."  Truly, our diets here in the States are atrocious.

Medals from my races…one technically doesn't count, since it was in a kayak

I used to make excuses to avoid exercising…there's no gym close by, I don't like the gym that's close by, I don't have the right shoes, I don't have the right clothes, I don't like riding bike in traffic, it's too sunny, it's too cloudy, it's too cold, it's too hot, it's raining, I don't want to go by myself, I don't like running with other people, I hate sweating, I have to poop, I have a headache, there's a sale at the mall, I need to check Facebook, I just ate, I haven't eaten anything yet today…you name it, I've used it as an excuse.  And finally, it just got to be too much.  What's the one exercise a person can do that requires little to no equipment at all?  Running.  All you need is shoes, something to cover your private parts, a destination and you're good to go.  As with a lot of other things in life, I've had to leave myself no other choice in the matter.

Running the Sea Wheeze in Vancouver, BC

I didn't realize until I received my training packet for my first half marathon that my approach to running had been all wrong.  And that's pretty much the reason that I had hated it for so long.  I would run until my lungs were burning, until I was about ready to puke everywhere, and I felt like crap the entire time.  Every single step was a struggle.  But then, along game Jeff Galloway, a former Olympic track athlete, and all of that changed.  Here is a link to his training program for beginning runners.  It's a 20 week program, so it gives you lots of time to start out slow and steady, and with manageable distances.  It not only has a training calendar, but it also has a whole section on running form and suggestions for the beginning runner.  This opened my eyes to all the mistakes that I had been making in my previous approach to running.  There's also an app called Couch25k which is supposed to be really good for training for a 5k.  I haven't personally used it, but I have a decent amount of friends who have, and they say good things.

So, with that, here are my own Tips and Tricks for people who HATE running.

• Get good shoes.  Trust me on this one.  Those old Nike trainers that you've had lying around?

  

  My new running kicks

   Bad News Bears.  Throw them away.  Get yourself to a running store and have your gait analyzed by an actual runner.  I'm not talking Sports Authority or Dick's, I mean like a real running store, where the employees are runners themselves.  There is a store here in Flagstaff called Run Flagstaff, and they have a treadmill with a camera attached that records your running stride.  The employees at the store then slow the video down, have a look, and figure out what your legs are doing while you're running.  They can then make recommendations for the best shoes for your gait.  For a long time, I was under the impression that I needed high stability shoes because I have high arches.  Unfortunately for me, the fit was wrong for my gait, which resulted in foot pain and blisters.  But I thought that's just how it was.  You're running…you're bound to get blisters, right?  Not if you have the right shoes (and socks! More to come on that later).  After having my gait analyzed, I was told that my gait is fine and that my ankles are strong, and that a neutral shoe is more than adequate for me.  Since I've been wearing neutral shoes, I rarely, if ever, have blisters.  I just finished 16.2 miles in 2 days and have no blisters on my feet to show for it.
• Start slow.  And I mean really slow.  Barely faster than a walk.  As Mr. Galloway points out, you should be able to run and still have enough breath to carry on a conversation…for the entire run.  This was another mistake I was making…I was running entirely too fast.  Unless you are a competitive athlete and you're sprinting or working towards a personal goal, there's no reason to run until you're puking, or almost puking (unless of course you find the need to scarf down an entire breakfast burrito and then go for a run, then you'll probably puke no matter what).  In the two races I did over the weekend, I was chattering away to my running companions for almost the entire duration of the race.  And when I wasn't chatting, I was still controlling my breathing and finding it very easy to manage.  If it takes you a half-hour to go one mile in an effort to control your breathing, so be it.  Go with it.  It will get better…YOU will get better.  We all have to start somewhere.
• Take little steps, and keep your feet close to the ground.  There's a reason that in most of my running photos, it looks like both of my feet are on the ground at the same time…it's my short, low little stride.  Don't try to have a long stride, especially not when you're first beginning.  And if you can, try not to come down too hard on your heel.  Ideally, you should try coming down on your midfoot if you can, but it takes practice and it takes attention, and when you're constantly thinking about your speed, your breath, and your underpants riding up, things will get lost in the mix.  Just do what feels natural.  I have a very, very short stride, and I maintain it throughout the majority of my runs.  Every now and then I'll lengthen it out or do some high knees just to add some different motion in there, but for the most part, I stick with my little stride.
• Watch your form.  Again, this can be tough when you're trying to think about so many other things at the same time, but this is really important for your post-run recovery.  Try to keep your back straight, and don't pivot your torso.  Meaning, move your arms at the shoulder joint, but don't move your shoulders forward and back.  This is one thing that I'm still working on.  It takes conscious thought, but it's amazing how much more comfortable it is while running, and how much easier it feels while doing it.  Try to keep your shoulders down and relaxed.  I know, this all sounds like it's counterproductive, but it works if you can get it right.  It definitely takes concentration.  However, every body is different, and you're going to find that what works for one person, won't work for another.  Just try to find a comfortable stride and make little adjustments as you become more comfortable with it.
• The first mile is the worst.  I remember runners telling me this when I was throwing every excuse in the book at them for not running.  It's true though.  I think it takes that first mile to get your stride, get your breathing, get your rhythm, and to convince yourself that since you're already out here, you might as well just keep going for a while.  I hate mile one.  My friend Ellen and I ran a 10 mile race over the weekend, and I honestly and truly wanted to quit after running half a mile.  I just didn't want to be there.  My legs hurt, my breathing sucked, I was tired, I was cold…I just wanted to throw in the towel and call Simon to come get me.  But I kept going.  And even though I was sore at the end of it, I still did the entire thing, and mile 0.5 was the only time during the race that I really wanted to quit.  You just have to get past it.      
• Wear appropriate clothing.  Meaning, stay away from cotton…even cotton blends.  This is

  

  Kate and Simon demonstrating their running tights

  especially important with socks.  Nothing will chafe your hide or give you blisters on your feet faster than cotton.  I used think all that fancy Under Armor and Lululemon apparel was just for people who had nothing better to spend their money on and wanted to treat every run like a fashion show (truth be told, it IS kinda fun to wear cute athletic clothes).  Turns out, those runners are on to something.  All that spandex not only wicks sweat and keeps the chafing to a minimum, but some of it also adds compression, which feels good for those muscles while they're working.  I really like knee-high compression socks for both during the race and after.  Not that you need to go out and drop hundreds of dollars on athletic apparel, but take a trip to your local Marshall's or TJ Maxx and grab a few things off the clearance rack.  Even Costco has a very decent selection of athletic apparel.  If you're going to drop significant money on apparel related to running, spend it on your shoes, not your outfit.  I've also read (and found to be true) to dress for weather that is 20 degrees warmer than what the actual temperature is.  If it's 60 degrees outside, dress for 80 degrees.  You might be a little chilly at first, but trust me, you'll warm up fast and you'll be glad you left that sweatshirt at home.  
• Find a good playlist if you're running to music.  I prefer not to run to music, but I'm in the minority in that aspect.  I like to look around and have conversations with myself while I run.  I probably look like a crazy person.  Oh well.  Part of the reason that I don't run to music is because I have this compulsion to have my feet hit the ground with the beat.  I find myself tripping if a slower song comes on because my feet are trying to stay with the beat.  Conversely, the same thing happens if a faster song comes on, and I find myself trying to keep up with the beat and I burn out.  However, I recently read an article that recommended tailoring your playlist to your pace.  This definitely appeals to the marching band geek in me, so I might start putting a little more work into finding some songs with a beat that I can manage.  However, if you don't have my issues and just like music to zone out to, more power to you.  Find earbuds that fit well…those old Apple ones are the worst.  I like earbuds with the little rubber things on them…they stay in place better and they don't hurt.
• Give interval running a try.  I actually do a lot of interval running when I'm training, and I don't

  

  Running with the horde in Vancouver

  notice much of a difference with my pace.  Interval running is so many minutes running, followed by so many minutes walking, repeated over and over throughout the duration of your run.  I tend to do a 4:1 running/walking interval when I do it.  I like the little breaks, and I feel like when I start running again after the walk, I'm able to run a little faster.  I also think that my joints and muscles are less sore when I interval run.  When I'm doing a race, all that adrenaline of being around all those runners builds up and I find it really hard to adhere to a strict running/walking interval (a stopwatch of some sort would be handy), but when I start to find myself getting tired, I'll switch to it.  I tend to walk up hills a lot.
• There's no shame in walking.  EVER.  A lot of people who sign up for races actually intend to walk the entire thing…walking is good for you, and truth be told, it's way easier on your body than running.  Walking is an integral part of my training for races, and I walk all the time during my runs.  I'm not out there to beat anyone.  I truly don't care about my pace either.  I'm typically aware of it, but I don't let it bother me if I'm slower one day and faster the next.  It's going to be that way.  When I signed up for my first half marathon, I did so knowing that I could walk the entire thing and still finish within the allotted time.  And that was my goal…to finish.  And to not be carted off the course in the ambulance.  You know, truly attainable, objective goals.  And so far with every race since that first one, I've managed to finish and avoid the ambulance ride.  And that's good enough for me.  But I don't have a competitive streak to overcome when it comes to running.  Some people struggle with that and beat themselves up for what they perceive to be a slow time or a poor race.  The only person I'm competing against is myself…thank goodness I'm competing against a lazy person…hahaha!
• Listen to your body.  My joints were barking at me last weekend at the end of the 10 mile race.  I think 10 miles is just at the high end of what I can expect from my joints.  Granted, my training was definitely lacking, but still…10 miles is a good long distance for me.  I think the 10k (6.2 miles) is about the perfect distance.  If I can get my lazy butt a little more motivated to train longer and more often, I'll probably have a longer shelf life for those longer races, but I think my days of distance running are drawing to a close.  I've got one more half marathon on the docket for 2015, but other than that I'm sticking with the 15k (9.3 miles) and the 10k.  And I'll even do some 5k runs if they sound fun.
• Try to have fun.  Running, for the most part, is not fun.  People who say that running is fun are deranged.  However, there is some sort of euphoria that you get while running through a city during a race, with spectators lining the course cheering and ringing cowbells for you.  Try trail running if road running is too boring.  I like being out in nature, running along, seeing the birds and smelling the trees and just being outdoors.  Running can be fun, just not all the time.

Ellen, Kate, Simon, and me after running the Twin Cities 10k

So there you have it.  My infinite (though limited) wisdom on running for people who HATE running.  And now I'm going to go sign up for the Hot Chocolate 15k race down in Phoenix on December 7th.  That gives all of you readers plenty of time to get training and join me.  :)  You get chocolate at the end!  What's not to love about that??  One could argue that for the price of the race admission, you could buy an awful lot of chocolate and just sit in the comfort of your own home and eat it, but that's beside the point.  I've also heard of a Bacon 5k in Wisconsin sometime in July, which I want to do…bacon stations during the race!  Simon has already said 'No' to food-themed races, so if it sounds interesting to anyone, I'm looking for a running buddy!

Feel free to pass long your own personal tips and tricks for running.  I'm still learning, and there's always room for improvement.  :)