yay, me!

Lincolnwood Turkey Trot 5K is one of my favorite races. It's well organized, the course is suburban (and therefore out of the ordinary for me), and the weather's cool. This morning I got up and my neck/shoulder was sore (a problem I've had off and on since age 13 or so, but why did it have to flare up today?) But I said to myself, "so f***ing what." Everyone has aches. Today I decided to run a sub-30 5K. I've done it only once before, a 29:21 at the Lung Run in 2006 (although to this day I think the course must've been short because I don't think I really ran that fast... I even recall walking a bit during the race).

We met Teresa there. Before lining up at the start, we shared a hug and she gave me a pep talk--- "I know you can do it. I know you can do it today." I felt like I could, too. I ran the first mile in less than 9 minutes. Uh oh. That's too fast for me to maintain (at least for now!). So I slowed and tried to keep around a 9:30 minute/mile pace thoughout. I'm not perfect at pacing... sometimes I was faster, and sometimes I was slower. But I passed the two-mile marker at 18-something, so I knew I was doing okay in that regard. I usually start to slow down around 2.5, but not this time. I kept telling myself that it would all be over in about 5 minutes or so... suck it up and keep going. I'd be pissed at myself if I lost focus and blew it (like I usually do!). I thought of Teresa and Uncle Dick waiting for me at the finish and how happy and proud of me they'd be if I met my goal. And how much I'd enjoy telling John about it after he finished the race.

My legs felt like lead as the finish line came into sight. I usually have a little "kick" at the end, but not this time. I didn't see Teresa and Uncle Dick while I was running, but I certainly heard them. After I crossed the line and knew that I was under 30, I turned to the left and Teresa and Uncle Dick were right there. I fell into their arms. Wow. If I had had enough energy, I probably would've cried. 29:46 (I don't think I hit my watch quite right at either the start or the finish, which explains the discrepancy in the picture above).

After the race, we met and talked with a barefoot runner. Hmmm... intriguing. There are always nice people at races. Pizza and hot soup in the tent, then we met John and congratulated him on his race. He knew right away by the smile on my face what my result was.

I'm very happy with myself that I was able to reach down and grab some inner strength that is sometimes hard to find. I'm even happier that I was able to do it surrounded by people who love me. I think I'll take a nap now.

Friendship

Work's been sucking lately. Due to the bad economy (among other things), it's been tense, stressful, not a happy place to be. Although I realize I'm lucky to have a job, sometimes it's just, well, too much.

But, in the midst of it all, there's laughter and silliness. Let me tell you about my friend Cy. He and I used to "work" together at the same firm-- me in Chicago, Cy on the West Coast (he lives in San Francisco) We've never met... interacting only on the phone when we worked together and via e-mail since we've both moved on. I've known him for probably 15 years or more. Getting an e-mail from Cy is like a snuggly blanket and a mug of hot cocoa-- guaranteed to put a smile on your face. He writes long, descriptively fun e-mails about food (he really, really should be a restaurant critic), fashion, Project Runway, Top Chef, running at the gym... anything and everything, many times a day.

Today, for absolutely no reason, I got a package from San Francisco containing Hello Kitty and a stylish, artsy card. I giggled til my stomach hurt. Every time I look at it, I'll smile. Thanks, Cy. Good friends like you are a rare and precious gift.

It's done!

You know that painting that I've been working on, well, forever? I finished it this morning! Connecting with an old artist friend on Facebook and meeting a new artist friend at dinner last week inspired me to get off my lazy ass and "just do it." It doesn't have a name yet, but something will come to me.

Thoughts? I worked it much more abstract that I usually do and that caused me some degree of angst. Compositionally, I like the receding figures, and the two bending at the waist-- although I kind of got lost in a clutter of arms and legs and it doesn't read as well as I wanted it to. But you learn something with every painting and I learned that you CAN get rusty if you don't work at it with some degree of regularity. This one's so rusty it needs Rust-oleum. But that's okay. There are some elements I really like (the face on the guy to the far right, the red shoes on the guy in the middle). I wish my photography skills were a little bit better and the glare a little less-- but trust me, these are the high points of the work.

Next? Although I love the no-fuss aspect of acrylics, you can't beat the lusciousness of oils. I want to go back to them. I bought some water soluble oils a while back, so I think I'm going to try to find them in the black hole that is my basement. Experiment a little. Also, I'm thinking about a sweet little pastel drawing for a friend as a Christmas present. The important thing is that I have my mojo back. Finally.

Do what feels good

John's out of town, so I treated myself to a completely self-indulgent weekend.

Yesterday I did a 5-mile run along the lakefront. The wind was crazy strong-- a couple of times if felt like it was going to blow me off the path and into the water. I laughed out loud at the sheer joy of the sensation. The absolute beauty of this city never fails to amaze me, even though I've lived here for over 20 years. The physicality of limbs in motion, the pungent scent of sun-warmed leaves, the majesty of our skyline and the sparkle of the lake elevated me. I love to run. I love everything about it. I felt like I could've gone many more miles.

Today I spent a few hours at The Art Institute. A friend of mine says that his religion is baseball; mine is art. In the movie "The Cutting Edge," there's a scene where the main character talks about the significance of the smell of the ice in a hockey rink. It's the same for me at AIC-- it's the smell of comfort and well-being. I know this building like the back of my hand and I ritualistically see certain favorite pieces every time I go. Appropriate music on my iPhone accompanied my homage-- Radio Nowhere (Springsteen) and Higher (Creed) for my absolute favorites-- Ivan Albright's work in gallery 262 (see http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/93798). Then, Dreams on Fire (Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack) for the apsaras and God Ganesha, Remover of Obstacles in Indian art. Today I also stopped by the Caravaggio exhibition. My first sight of The Supper at Emmaus made me gasp out loud at the perfection of it. A delicious salad and pinot grigio finished the visit. I always leave AIC better than when I walked in.