On the move

Lots has happened since last I blogged. P got a great job in the Boston area, I got into both doctoral programs I applied to, I was offered (and am taking) a fellowship at one of them… It’s a year of happy change.

Now, after nearly six years of making our way in Manchester, we get to go home to Boston. First step: sell the house.

As we are gearing up to sell our home, we had to find a realtor. We met with two in total. After meeting the first one, we should have just stopped, as we both liked her a lot. But we thought it can’t hurt to interview a second one to get a sense of different styles and see what two sets of professional eyes thought of the house.

Here are some excerpts from realtor meeting #2:

Realtor: [seeing my Smith College hat] Did you go to Smith?
Me: No, my wife did.
Realtor: Oh. My niece went there.
Me: Really? Is she -
Realtor: [cutting me off]: Gay? Yep. She’s gay.
Me: Oh. I was going to ask if she was also a super dedicated alum. They all seem to be very dedicated… But, um, ok.

Realtor: The couple in one of my houses is getting divorced. It’s like they have blinders on, and can’t see what’s in front of them. And they are holding on to everything even though they really should get rid of it if they want to sell the place.
Me: [wondering why we are even talking about this, and trying to close the topic]: Well, you won’t have to worry about that with us.
Realtor: I hope not! After fighting for all of those rights!

Realtor: [takes out camera and starts to show me pictures of her recent trip to Florida] This was the view from our deck.
Me: [stunned silence, actively thinking about how to end the conversation]

I'm calling realtor #1 today to move forward.

And this is only the beginning of the adventure!

Your cube farm or mine?

Today I received the following email:

Attached is a listing by department of teams in [current office location]. As part of the planning phase for the [new office location] buildout, I would like to ask each person to review this list and be sure that your name is listed with the correct team. If there are any revisions please let me know. After this list has been validated we will sit with each department to map out seating arrangements.

What I learned from this email is the following:

• The official names of each department for those that work in this office (which changes frequently enough)
• Who works in what department (which changes frequently enough)
• My office is moving

I guess that's the official nonofficial word that we're packing up our cubicles and heading to new ones in the near future!

All Hallows Eve - in the middle of the day

Manchester is a weird town. It’s a place where I’ve watched a man shout “ah, shut up!” at a passing ambulance’s (apparently annoying) siren. It’s a place where the local motel has a sign reading “Stay for a night… Or a lifetime.” It’s a place where, if I walk or ride my bicycle to work, people are astounded.

I only live about two miles from my office.

The political aspects are fun, as we are an epicenter of sorts for the NH primaries, as well as the presidential race in general. It’s certainly true that you are provided with multiple opportunities to meet any candidate on any ticket. The day after the elections, however, it is as the circus left town, pulling up the stakes and hurrying out on a midnight train. Even they don’t want to linger. Then we are just left with the town itself.

I’ve been here for nearly five years, and I can’t wait to leave.

One of my ongoing peeves is the insistence on “celebrating” Halloween on the Sunday before, in the middle of the day. Thus, last Sunday, (October 26), from 1-4pm was the “official” time for trick or treaters.

We also celebrate the fourth of July on July 3rd.

This year’s non-Halloween Sunday was a beautiful, sunny day. It was broad daylight. It was not Halloween. As a result, there wasn’t much Halloween spirit in the house minus our two black cats. Who, incidentally, were sleeping in the sun as it was the middle of the day.

The amount of kids that show up varies year to year. In our early years here we stocked up on candy (which we put in a special cauldron, even) only to have three kids show up at the door the entire time.

Two years ago, the neighbors’ grandson (who I’m guessing was around 12 at the time) came to the door dressed in a basketball jersey, big jeans, and sunglasses. I asked what his costume was and he said he was a rapper, pointing to a stretch limo parked on the street. Apparently his grandfather had rented it/borrowed it from one of his potentially crooked friends (a blog story for another blog day) as the cornerstone of his costume.

He was trick or treating for candy, but wasn’t going to walk? No effort and all the reward? I was not impressed. I thought I’d make him work for it, which was admittedly not the nicest thing I could have done. I asked him to show me his skills. Give me one small rap. Show me something in character. Even I can bust out the lyrics to “Jump Around” or numerous other 90’s gems upon command.

He looked at me quizzically and pointed at the limo again. No rap emerged.

I still gave him a full size candy bar, as that’s the kind of girl I am.

Slowly but surely we’ve cut back on the candy purchasing, until this year, when we finally didn’t bother at all. All we had to work with was some leftover items from a night of making s’mores.

(As a side note, that meant we had both plain chocolate bars and peanut butter cups. Try branching out with the s’more making components– delicious!)

And, well, you know where this is going… We had a small crush of kids this time around, all looking very cute in their various witch, ghost, zebra, action hero, etc. costumes. I tried to avoid them, but I made the mistake of stepping onto the stairs (I’d been hiding upstairs), thus exposing a living human being to the eyes peering intently through our front window.

I opened the door to at least 10 kids eagerly hoisting bags at me, and I didn’t have enough for all of them. I made some sort of silly joke about how they were going to crush my entire supply, and then tried to pick those kids that looked like they were holding lesser-full sacks. I ran out completely, and some kids simply had to go without.

Not without candy, mind you. They seemed to have plenty of candy. Just without candy from me. Still, I felt pretty bad that I had to look in their little eyes, shrug my shoulders, and simply wish them a Happy Halloween. Even thought it wasn’t Halloween, and they weren’t looking for my good wishes. They just wanted the sugar.

It was a small costumed nightmare, and I am so happy that this is my last year of this silly non-Halloween Halloween.

Up and running again

Ok, it's been a while since I posted. Stuff happened.

Two things of note in my running life:

1. I just checked the Falmouth Road Race site, and I'm in. I expected it as I got in by lottery last year, but there was a small part of me that doubted the "one in, always in" theory. So August 10 I'll be running under some garden hoses in Falmouth.
2. Today is the "official" kick off on a Reach the Beach training program. Not that I haven't been training already... I do have a 12 week program that I printed off for half marathon prep that I'll be using. The distances suggested aren't the main concern - it's more the consistency of getting out there to run, and cross training. I am going to be a bit more disciplined in when I do what, essentially.

As for running in general, I had a moment (ok, a week) where I couldn't get the fun factor to emerge. When I first started running lo those many years ago, my only rule for the hobby was that it had to be fun, and when it wasn't fun I'd stop. So I took off a few days without feeling guilty. This past weekend I was back at my favorite local rail trail and had a really, really lovely 7 mile jaunt. It smelled like warm pine almost the whole time. The next day, I mapped out a new-ish route on local roads which totaled around 4.5 miles. It was mostly quiet, and while not as constantly pretty as a rail trail, it did have it's moments.

I think the unfun spell is broken. And just in time!

I've made some changes that have also made a difference: I'm back to my old Polar A3 HRM, aiming to stay within a specific range (and walking if I go over it for too long) rather than a specific speed. I haven't used the Nike+ thing for a while, and while I miss it sometimes, I think we're better off apart. I also have put away the Garmin 205 that I had switched over to post Nike+ aggravation. I have also resumed the running log habit.

Lastly, I have often gone running without any music. Unusual for me, as I live and breathe music most of the time. Given that Reach the Beach doesn't allow headphones, though, I started training without, and I've really enjoyed the quiet. If anything, I listen to talking - This American Life and Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me are the most frequently tapped podcasts. Given that they are each a minimum of 45 minutes in length, there's a consistency in cadence (unlike songs, which shift every 3-5 minutes) that I like.

Oh - and I was recently reminded that I am doing a mini-triathlon (just for kicks - no aspirations here) in about a month. Methinks I should find a pool.

You spin me right round baby, right round

To follow up on my previous post, I haven’t done anything about the Nike+ sensor situation. I spoke with someone at a Nike store who said I’d likely get a positive response if I sent in a comment, but that inspiration has not hit me yet. I am liking the return to running sans gadgets.

So, it’s April 4th, and this morning it snowed in Manchester, NH. I have this memory of my birthday (which was about a week ago) being in warm weather. That hasn’t happened in years, yet still I hold on to that memory – which may have been one birthday for all I know – and expect that each year will be like that.

I shouldn’t really complain, as I did technically spend my birthday in the sun. We were in California, dividing a week between San Francisco, the PCH, and a brief stop in LA. It was a terrific trip, even if it made the return to our “spring” weather even more jarring…

Lately I’ve been checking out the spinning classes at my gym. It’s one of those things I’ve wanted to investigate for a while, but never made the time for in my day. Given the icky outdoor weather lately, I’ve been less inspired to run outdoors, giving me the perfect reason to get on the bike.

The first time I ventured in I tried the morning class. The leader was a nice guy, and did the appropriate amount of pushing-not-forcing for that early in the morning. However, did I mention that the class is at 6am? I consider myself a morning person and all, but 6am means waking up pre-6am, and that just wasn’t very pleasant.

So I switched to the evening class, and I’ve stuck with it. I’m looking to make it a regular habit, and as such I’ve formed some opinions on the sport and my evolution therein. For example: foregoing bike shorts is a mistake. Learned that one on the first time out… My poor bum.

The thought I kept returning to in the most recent class is the relativity of the 1-10 effort scale that we are instructed to follow. I don’t have it memorized, but it is, essentially:

1-5: Don’t bother even remembering what these mean, because classes never involve being in this zone.
6: Warm-up, some effort involved
7: More effort involved
8: Out of comfort zone. Quads on fire. Talk to self to keep going, and hope your neighbor can’t hear you.
9-10: Can’t continue.

Why is the “can’t continue” zone two numbers? If you can’t continue shouldn’t it just be that zone?

Also, pain is a very subjective thing. My 8 may be your 6, or vice versa. If I may speak as an Aries, I’m a bit competitive by nature, and loathe to admit – or even realize – that I may need to ease up. If I may speak as a girl who like to psychoanalyze herself, I know myself well enough to know that I am pretty terrible at admitting to physical weakness, a trait that has gotten me into trouble more than once. Not my best trait, but it’s how I’m wired.

Mind you, I keep going back. While it hurts, it’s a good kind of hurt. The kind of hurt that makes me think I will be stronger for it. And it sure beats running in the April sleet.

Trade the PC hat for a trucker's cap!

I was invited to go to a hockey game this evening - our local minor league team, the Manchester Monarchs. I like hockey well enough, so sure, I'm in.

Yesterday, I found out that this won't be just any night of hockey. It's mullet night!

Here's the official promo:

Mar 7, 2008 at 7:05 pm
Mullet Night: Redneck Edition
It’s back! “Mullet Night: Redneck Edition” will be filled with Redneck activities, music, on-ice entertainment as well as the distribution of 3,500 mullet trucker hats and Redneck teeth, courtesy of Sanel Auto Parts! So dust off your old mullet wigs, throw on your best hunting gear and join us for another unforgettable Mullet Night with the Monarchs.

Not just mullet night - but mullet night, redneck edition. Heavens.

What are redneck activities?

I'm bringing a camera, and a zoom lens.

Manchester Half

On Sunday I ran a half marathon in my hometown. Never did I think I would say that while I am living in Manchester, a town where I have run for four years and often go for miles without seeing any other runners. But there I was on Sunday, lined up on Elm Street with about 1600 others, getting ready to kick off the first annual Manchester Marathon/Half Marathon.

And you know what? It was great.

I had pretty low expectations, I admit, largely tainted by my overall feelings around living in Manchester. But in this case, I was pleasantly surprised. So as much as I can highlight the negative aspects of this place, I also need to give props where they are due.

The weather was just perfect. The rain and wind from the day before had cleared out, and it was around 50 degrees, sunny, and dry at the start. The field was not overwhelmingly big, but not small... Even without any official type of organization (no corrals, no people telling you where to go, not exactly knowing in which direction you'd be taking off) we all found our way to the start line and placed ourselves accordingly in the pack. Everyone played nice; no grumbling.

The course itself was tough, with enough hills to leave this girl with stiff calves the next day. Some were steep, and some just long. There was one particular street that was killer - it went uphill for around a mile, and then turned left to get even steeper for another few hundred yards. Friends standing at the top to cheer people reported afterwards that "everyone just looked broken." That was around the 10k mark, meaning we still had a ways to go. Still, people stayed positive.

I talked to more people on this course than I have in any race (generally I'm not really a stranger talker). Just little chats as you realize you have been alongside the same person for a mile or so. They'd organically end, and we'd go our own ways. It was nice.

Traffic wasn't entirely closed off along the course, but the police and volunteers did a good job of fending off cars from intersections so runners did not have to pause and wait. The reaction of drivers who were held back ranged from annoyed (even going to far as to honk at us) to cheering us on (even going so far as to honk at us). It was easy to ignore the less than happy drivers - for this one day, these few hours, they could sit tight. I think this is the one thing that will need to be addressed in next years race, which is already being discussed as having an expanded field.

Also of note on the course is that the half and full marathon routes were the same for the first part. At 13 miles, I split left while the full marathon peeps split right and headed off to the west side of town. So some of the people I spoke with en route were actually going for the full 26. With this size of a field, it was easy to mix the two, and the transition seemed to go quite smoothly.

As it was a small race, the finishers area at the end wasn't terribly packed. I stayed for a massage (which seemed to last for 20 minutes or so), tasted some soup at the "soup off" (I voted for the broccoli and cheese soup from CJs) and then walked two miles to my home. Which, incidentally, was around mile 11 of the course.

I spoke to a few others afterwards who were as excited as I was that there was an event to pull people together in Manchester. It simply doesn't happen often enough.

I'll end this roundup with a short story on life in this town. I was getting my hair cut the day before, and talking with the woman who cuts my hair about the Manchester race. Several of her clients were running in it. As we are chatting about the route, and other races in the area, she nonchalantly slipped in, "I hear there's another race happening in New York tomorrow."