InnerTeub

My brother just wrote a post on getting things done and then told me to write one as well.  So, obviously, I have no choice: here guys go: here is how i get stuff done:

(Apparently I get things done by just doing what my brother tells me to do.)

My husband would suggest that I don’t get stuff done, and he’s not ENTIRELY wrong on that count in that I am the worst- THE WORST – at personal administration. Unread mail? No bother! Moved to Colorado in February — still don’t have a license! I am almost horrifyingly capable of letting non-work related paperwork and to-dos go to the wayside.

BUT! Having said that, I would suggest that I have cultivated some FANTASTIC coping mechanisms, because I do recognize that it’s Not Good to Not Care about unread mail. So I would say one of the smartest things I’ve ever done is marry someone who DOES care about unread mail. And putting on snow tires.  And the dog’s flea and tick meds.  Etc.

(Oh, stop looking at me like that. I’m not a total freeloader of his organizational mastery. I’m excessively on-point when it comes to clean sheets, grocery shopping, dishes in the sink, and kicking ass at my job. It all works out.) (I think.) (I mean, I am sure we both wish the other cared a little bit more about the things we care about, but I also wish that running shoes were free, so, like, you know, we don’t always get what we want in the world.)

Ok, having said all THAT, I clearly must have some skill at Doing Things because I have managed to juggle a pretty decent career, a lot of Ironman training, and a puppy that seems to love me and not be resentful of not ever seeing me, so:

1. Schedule. If there are things to do at work, it goes in the outlook calendar (which synchs with my phone.) I’ll block time in the day for my to-do list, and put those items in the body of the calendar appointment so I know exactly what I’m doing during that time. The biggest moment of weakness in my day is the first five minutes of my work day: if I don’t have A Plan in place with with very specific action items there’s a good possibility I’ll go “Oh, I’ll just check my email/reader/twitter” and pooooof! It’s 10:30 and nothing is done. This to-do list is always first scribbled on a steno pad notebook I have at my desk and can bring to meetings, because a) I prefer to handwrite things than type, so I always handwrite notes at work and b) I do love me some good old-fashioned Checking Off Of Stuff.  And for things that aren’t as simple as “Do this than it’s done” , I still schedule in the calendar — figure out milestones for bigger things and see when in a week I have time to devote to inching toward that end state. And as with the to-do list, that calendar notice has notes in — what I was thinking when I blocked the time, what info I need to pick up and start that effort, where I want to be at the end of that time block. It’s painstaking, but I’m a step by step person, and if I break the bigger things into those steps:  ain’t no thang, it gets done.

2. I also schedule working out. Physical activity is a Really Important (side note: I should title this post “I Capitalize Words That Don’t Need It and You Can TOO!”) part of my life and I like to assume that it’s going to be a time block in every single day. I don’t always succeed, of course, but when I think of the day in front of me I assume that at some point in between work and making dinner and seeing friends and husband and dog walking there will be working out occurring, and I figure out where that’s going. When I’m training for something specific I keep that schedule on my Outlook calendar at work as well; that enables me to see if it’s realistic to assume I’ll run for an hour in the morning on Wednesday, or if I have an early meeting that will make it a no-go. This, by the way, has been the biggest key to me successfully training for races — pre-planned scheduling of not only what the day’s workout(s) are going to be, but WHEN they’re going to be.

3. For family stuff, we use Google Calendar, and I generally try to synch that with my Outlook cal as well (my outlook pushes reminders to my phone via the exchange server, vs. gCal with pushes reminders to my GMail, which I’m more likely to miss)

I’m an EXTREMELY out of sight out of mind person, so I need things like a white board in the kitchen with a grocery shopping list on it, reminder notices that pop up on my phone, a to-do list in a calendar reminder AND a notebook that sits open on my desk.

But my biggest thing I do to get stuff done?

I get up in the morning. I know that I’m about 10x more clear minded and focused at 6am than I am at any other point in the day, and being up at that time of day lets me see how all the pieces — things I want to get done at work/working out/making dinner/running errands/playing with the dog/playing with the husband — how they all tetris together so it fits. While I *love* sleep and could easily sleep until 11am, I know if I do, I’ll get nothing done. I’ll have missed my window. The single nicest thing I do for myself is getting to bed early enough to support getting up early.

So. That’s it. Getting Stuff Done is NOT my strong suit, and if my husband still blogged he’d have a helluva rebuttal for this post, but I manage to make it work (although I’m sure there is an overdue library book that would beg to differ.)

My friend Karen tweeted at me this morning that she was posting pics of my old running haunts.  In response, I felt motivated to head out on the first snowfall on the winter to get her some pics of my new morning running loop.

For reference, this was my old running route:

Pretty nice, huh? For those who care, that is the view of the National Mall from the path that leads up to Roosevelt Island.  (For that particular run,  I needed to be done with 13 miles and showered by 7:30am, which is why I’m watching sunrise from five miles away from my house.) (Also, after taking that picture, I put my iPhone back in the back pocket of my tri top, where it proceeded to, over the next 8 miles, chafe an iPhone shaped tramp stamp into my back, the scars of which have only recently faded away.) (You can see why I remember this run so vividly.)

Anyway! New year, new state, new running route. Dorky Winner Running Hat Season has officially kicked off:

There are some GREAT single track trails behind my house, however the snow today is SO wet and SO heavy that it would have been hard to find traction and keep feet dry. No fun. Plus: hard to see where the actual trail is:

The trail is back there somewhere, I swear.

So anyway, I kept it to the streets:

That might not look uphill, but: it is. Seriously, I don’t know HOW it’s possible, but every route from my house involves climbing uphill, even the ones coming home. The last bike ride I went on included 700 feet of climbing in the first three miles. Suuuuuuuuuuck.

And of course, let’s not forget my trusty sidekick, the world’s most reluctant running partner:

You guys – he hates running SO much. We went out the front door for this run, and I bent to tie my shoe and he disappeared. I figured he went back into the woods to explore, but no: he ran back to the front door and was waiting patiently for me to let him back inside. HA. He is also a big fan of grabbing his leash and pulling me back home, a trick I appreciate on the uphill climb back:

So! Not the best showcasing of the new running routes, as I couldn’t get back into the trails and the mountain views are filled with snow and fog, but good enough for a random Wednesday. Thanks for getting me going, Karen! I miss meeting up with you pre-dawn with our caffeinated gu, but glad you’ve joined the blogging bandwagon

I think I’ve mentioned before my friend who was running down the National Mall one morning and got so into her music that she didn’t notice for a quarter of mile that there was a police car behind her with sirens on trying to get her to move out of the way. Once she did notice and was able to get off the sidewalk/path, she had to fess up:  she was so unaware of her surroundings because she was rocking out to … mmmmBop.

I mention this because I know that if you can relate to that, you won’t judge me for mentioning that while training for the 2006 Marine Corps Marathon, my Power Song, my Go-To-Lets-Rock-This-Run song was … Cherry Cherry, by Neil Diamond.

Look, I don’t know. When you run for hours at at a time you will find yourself air-banding to whatever keeps you moving.

Anyway, I mention THAT because this weekend I found myself (she says, as if she didn’t actively purchase tickets, make plans, and drive us there. Oh no, I just, like, TRIPPED, and FOUND MYSELF) at a Neil Diamond Cover Band concert (SUPER DIAMOND, WOOO) with my brothers, sisters-in-law and parents. I’m not sure if every parent wants to spend their 39th wedding anniversary at a fake Neil Diamond show — hell, I’m not sure if even MY parents want to spend their 39th wedding anniversary at a fake Neil Diamond show — but they were good sports about it:

Before the show started, my brothers and I started laying down bets: First Song (20 points), Song in the First Five (10 points), Closing Song (20 points).

I nailed it, you guys. I can’t remember what my brothers picked (I mean, who remembers the losing guesses? No one, that’s who), but I was DEAD ON with mine:

• Opener: Cherry Cherry
• First Five: Forever in Blue Jeans
• Closer: America

Oh, Cherry Cherry. Just like 2006, you never let me down.

(In case you are wondering, I celebrated my victory by… buying everyone another round of drinks. I might be a winner, but I’m still a little sister, so. You know.)

(My brother doesn’t, um, normally look like this; earlier that day was the Denver Zombie Bar Crawl, and when you marry a woman who used to work in special effects make-up — which he did — you are contractually required to Go All Out)

But enough about my amazing ability to predict what a fake Neil Diamond concert set list will be. At one point during the show, I leaned to my brother and said “Man, the white man overbite is strong in this place”, to which he correctly replied: “I think in this particular group there’s no need for so many qualifiers; you can safely just call it “The Bite.”

And how. It was a pretty good text book Stuff White People Like weekend — Neil Diamon, PBR, and the occasional zombie bar crawl. Good work, team Lewis, good work.

A bunch of my friends are heading to Austin this weekend. My good friend Laura lives in Austin. I’ve got Austin on the brain. 

I, for one, am NOT heading to Austin because of the Great Lewis Autumnal* Visit of 2011;  my whole family is coming into town, including my brother and sister-in-law who otherwise live in a small town in Chianti and dig for rocks. (At least, I think that’s what they do. They’re archaeologists/art historians who have structured their life in such a way that they live in Italy half the year, so who cares what they’re really doing there, right? They already win) The thing that makes this a Great Visit vs. just a Visit is that while I see one brother and sister-in-law because they live 25 minutes up the road, and my parents frequently because we play the “two kids/one city” card,  it’s rare to get to see the other brother/sister-in-law off the holiday cycle, what with their whore-Italy dwelling and such, so truly, this weekend deserves its own title.

(*Also! Did you know that Autumnal means both 1) “belonging to or suggestion of Autumn” and 2) “past maturity or middle life” ? It really is the perfect title for the weekend.)

Anyway! Austin! My girl Laura sent me a link to this great Austin photographer who had recently shot a kids triathlon, and if these don’t bring a smile to your face, well, then … I guess I have no idea what brings a smile to your face but ANYWAY these are great pics. They completely remind me of how much stinkin’ FUN I had at my first tri and how much I want to do that again. So go on, give it a click

I read a great little interview with Jonny Weir this morning; I just love the way this guy expresses himself. Worth a look if you’re looking for ten minutes of procrastination today:

 I skate whenever I can and I fit my training in whenever I can because aside from it being my job and the thing that I love to do, it keeps my ass high and tight like a neck brace—where it’s supposed to be.

I went for one of those perfect Fall runs yesterday morning - 40 degrees and sunny at the start, perfect weather to work hard but feel great. Mike and Moose came with me and it was, by far, the highlight of my week.  A great 4 mile run in brisk weather with good conversation was just what I needed.

My “Yay, Running” mood was further reflected by yesterday’s daily Runners World “Quote of the Day” :

If I don’t run for a few days, I feel like my insides are dirty. The run kind of scrubs my veins and arteries, and then all starts to feel right with the world. I’m not one of those fanatical people that if I miss a run, I go nuts. But when it’s something you love, you make sure you have the time to do it.

Daryn Kagan, former CNN Anchor and creator of the award-winning DarynKagan.com

I love that.  Yeah, I can live without running and crossfit and activity, but I sure don’t want to.  The world is better when I make the time for it.

I love Goodreads and I demand you all join it.

Goodreads is like Facebook except you only get updates about what people are reading or what they want to read. The homepage simply scrolls down the changes to people’s reading list… “so and so added THIS book to read!” “so and so read THIS book and thought it sucked” etc.  (Ok, so now that I think about it more carefully there is actually nothing like Facebook about this site, except they both fall under “social media” but whatever)

I started with Goodreads in 2008, and then promptly forgot about it. The trick to enjoy the site is having a decent list of friends who you can turn to in order to get reading suggestions or to get a feel for a book you’re thinking about picking up (or to commiserate in the completely awful yet you loved it anyway guilty pleasure books.) This summer I added the iPhone app and could easily get to my “To-Read” list whenever I was in a library or a bookstore, which made the site that much more useful.

So. You should all go join, and that way you can see all the books I mention haphazardly here, and I can see the books on your radar, and we can all be happy book friends.

Pro Tips:

1. Do not join and think that you must automatically populate your “Read” list with every book you have ever read. That is an overwhelming time suck and will turn you off from the site forever. We know you didn’t start reading today, we will go on faith that you have read many interesting and literary books in the past; it is completely acceptable to start at zero for Goodreads purposes and build up your “shelves” as you go along starting with the day you joined.
2. When reviewing books do not, under any circumstance, start the review with a summary of the plot. That is not a book review, that is a book report, and Goodreads helpfully supplies that plot summary on the very same page where I am reading your review.  There is nothing less helpful than scanning the page of a book you think you’re interested in only to find that 30 people have supplied their basic timeline of the story instead of their opinions about it. Stop that. Helpful reviews include things like “I really like true crime stories, and this particular book does that one thing I like really well” or “This book has a decent premise, but the writing was so impressed with itself that it made me want to strangle it.” Tell people WHY you like a book, not what the book is ABOUT.
3. Friend me so I can see what you’re reading and read your fantastic non-plot summarizing reviews.

Oh, you guys. I’m so sad about something and I really doubt my ability to express to you in exactly the way I want.

Have I mentioned I went to camp as a kid? I did. It was a seven week all girls camp in Southern Maine. It was 110 girls, ages 9-16, and I went there for seven years (plus one year as a counselor when I was in college.) Growing up in Minnesota, I suppose it seemed a little random to everyone around me that I would go away to a camp in Maine for seven weeks, but it was far from: my mom and her sisters attended the same camp growing up, my uncles and my brothers attended the boy-version of that camp in the next town over; it was a family affair. And while Maine is FAR from Minnesota, going back every year, for as long as I did, meant I was seeing the same girls year after year; they were my friends, closer than many of the friends I had in MN, and I still keep in touch with many of them today.

I can’t quite express what a gift it was to be able to attend this camp year after year, but that is exactly what it was: a gift. For seven weeks every year I got to leave my home and go be myself with my friends; I wasn’t a little sister or the youngest child, I was just me, back for another summer of friends and horses and campfires and singing and sunsets. There was no electricity or technology; I learned the art going to bed when it was dark and writing letters in order to have some contact with the outside world. I ran back to camp after my freshmen year in college and spent a glorious seven weeks working my butt off as a counselor (don’t think working at a camp is hard work? Try living with six 11 year olds for seven weeks with no break) and was able to reset myself after a frantic first year of living on my own.

In many ways I consider this camp to be another version of home, and every summer as “camp season” starts up, I get a pang of sadness that I don’t get to go back, even though it’s been ten years since I’ve been there.

The director of the camp was a woman named June; she was a counselor there when my mom and aunts were campers in the 50s, and she was still there when I showed up as an awkward ten year old. She lived at the camp year round and dedicated her life to keeping the summer experience the same for every girl who showed up, and she treated us like family. One of my most vivid memories of June is seeing her showing up at the last minute to my aunt’s funeral in the fall of 1999. She hadn’t seen my aunt since the 50s, but she knew my aunt’s daughter (my cousin, who also attended camp), and me, and my mom, and even though the east coast was getting pummeled by hurricanes that September weekend, she hiked it from Maine to New York to be with us.

June died this past week, which shouldn’t be as surprising as it is; after all, she was “old” when I was there as a teenager– and it’s been quite a while since I was a teenager. But she was such a presence,, and so constant, it has caught me completely off guard to know that she is gone. I heard she had passed yesterday at the end of the work day, and found myself sitting in my office in suburbia, as far as a person can be from the shores of a lake in Maine – perhaps as far as I’ve ever been from the person who grow up on those shores – crying my eyes out.

So. I’m sad.  Something that is so important to me has changed, and I’m sadfor that, and I’m sad for how long its been since I’ve really connected with that place and that person. Thank you, June Gray, for taking me in as an awkward pre-teen kid, and making me always feel that I was absolutely perfect, just as I was. Thank you for giving me a place where it was completely normal to sing our hearts out after breakfast, hold hands while watching a sunset, and run around like a damned fool. Perhaps the best way I can describe what you built for us is to share that just yesterday I caught up with an old camp friend, and we found ourselves excitedly talking about sending our future daughters up to Wawenock, giving them the gift of the home you gave us.

This week has been an anomoly; Mike has been traveling, Sammy is back with her mom, so it’s just been me and the pup. As I mentioned in an earlier post, when it’s just me and the pup mornings start early; we’ve been at our open space park every day this week by 6am, pre-dawn, when it’s just almost light enough for him to chase his beloved tennis ball.

I like our open space park; it’s about 17 acres of off leash dog run space, with another 145 acres of not-off leash trails meant for horses and hikers and mountain bikes. In fact, I’d say this open space area is indicative of everything I like about where I live; this park is just a mile south of some seriously depressing newly built subdivisions and office parks, but that mile is a long one, and as you drive it you can feel the space give way from concrete to nature again. Down this way, by my house (about 25 miles south of Denver), the anonymous housing tracks give way to elevation and rolling hills and herds of cattle and elk meandering around.

Just hanging out in the neighborhood...

As the sun comes up, the pup and I move from the off-leash space (where he is free to roam and chase balls and play with other pups) to the bigger trail. (He gets his walk in the morning, I get mine.) It’s this part of the morning that I really love, watching the sun rise come across the plains from the east and reflect the wall of mountains to the west.

There are things I don’t like about living in Colorado. After so many years in D.C., the developed areas feel too new, they lack the character I loved about the historic D.C. streets and homes. I sometimes miss the aggressive careerism. And of course, I miss my urban family, my people that I grew up with through my twenties.

But on the whole, I have to say: I love it here. Yes, I am sandwiched by subdivisions everywhere I go, but driving home I wind down a road lined with pine trees and horse farms. I have time for slow cups of coffee in the morning, after a first shock of natural caffeine in the form of mountain air. I’m out of work in time to make it to the local track club or evening crossfit class. It’s a slower life here than I had in D.C., but for now, it fits me.

I think life, regardless of where you live, will always be as fast or as slow as you want it to be. But moving out here has been a nice exercise in forcibly slowing down. Even though I’ve been up by 5am every day this week, I feel more rested than I have in a long, long while.

*****

I’ve been thinking about this concept of “Slow Life” this week as I just finished the book “Slow Love: How I Lost My Job, Put on My Pajamas, And Found Happiness.” It’s written by Dominque Browning, the former editor of House & Garden, telling of the year after she was fired and forcibly retired. In a way it seems to fit into the theme of the “The Me Years” I talked about last week, except instead of spending her 20s figuring her “me” stuff, Dominque found herself doing that in her 50s. As someone who has always loved being good at my job, and has loved the structure and energy my jobs have given to my life, I liked the discussion revolving ”Ok, so what happens when the job goes away?”

I don’t much care for memoirs, but this one kept me reading.

I’m kind of phoning it in today because: a) it’s almost Friday, b) I just gave blood and am all woooo and, c) my dog is doing this new thing where he thinks we’re going running at 4am.  We are not, in fact, going running at 4am, but the dude is an optimist and figures, you know, why not check in to see if today is the day we go at 4am. And keep re-checking every ten minutes thereafter. Which is my way of saying we went at *5am*, ha, take THAT, dog! Clearly I am soooo the ruler of this house.

ANYWAY.

So! I’m tired, I’m down a pint of blood, and I’m re-posting. I wrote this a couple of years ago, but as I’ve been actively trying to reclaim my love of my previous runner lifestyle, I read it again today to aid in my ongoing re-motivation (totally a word.) And because it’s officially Fall (38 degrees on the running trail this AM, y’all. 38 degrees) and people are bumping up miles for half marathons and marathons and/or just running because it’s PERFECT out, I thought I’d share. Um, again.

 My morning:

• Get up
• Whine
• Go back to bed
• Get back up.
• Shiver.
• Whine.
• Brush teeth.
• Look for running clothes
• Locate shirt in dryer
• Remember that I need pants
• Locate pants
• Stub toe.
• Curse.
• Look for socks.
• Find one. Victory!
• Remember that I need two socks.
• Damnit!
• Find second sock. Sock #2 is different thickness than sock #1.
• Debate how much this will bother me while running.
• Decide “A lot”
• Look for different sock.
• Fail at finding new sock
• Suck up the different thickness socks.
• Reach for caffeinated Gu.
• Discover lack of caffeinated Gu.
• Curse.
• Look for gloves.
• Find gloves.
• Rejoice!
• Look for Ipod.
• Remember have not charged iPod in 4 days.
• Curse.
• Attempt to tie shoes while wearing gloves.
• Fail.
• Remove gloves, tie shoes.
• Leave house
• Step outside. Note that it is raining.
• And cold
• Curse.
• Go to start watch.
• Notice that I forgot watch.
• Curse
• Begin to notice how pretty everything is all covered in fog
• …until I start running and realize that water on the streets is turning into big sheets of ice.
• Run slow so as to not slip.
• (yeah. That’s it. That’s *exactly* why I was running slow)
• Notice that ass has frozen and seems to be bouncing independently from my body.
• Bitch about ice on ground.
• Suspend bitching once sun rises and I notice how pretty the National Mall looks.
• Resume bitching when submerge foot in big puddle.
• Dream about the wonderful DC Spring weather, and the Cherry Blossom 10 Miler
• Conveniently forget that I am allergic to the cherry blossoms and will in no way be able to run while they are in bloom.
• Be annoyed that socks are different thickness and one shoe is looser than the other.
• Round the end of the Mall over by Lincoln. Look up at Abe, look at slick steps covered in ice and puddles leading up to Abe, and give him a wave, promising to visit him later.
• Get cold.
• Start to run faster to warm up and get home.
• Send Husband mental thoughts consisting of “Make breakfast and coffee…make breakfast and coffee…’
• Stop running fast. Pant.
• Resume slogging
• Get home
• Give Husband a big sweaty kiss despite the fact that he did not get the mental message of “coffee and breakfast”
• Hop in warm shower and think to self “I love running”
• Smile when I realize: I actually meant it. I DO love running.