On Your Left

After taking a few days off from my normal workout routine it was time to hit Rock Creek this morning and get back to running. It was a beautiful day to be outside and as soon as I hit the bottom of Tilden (street), I was already excited to be in my running "home".

One of the many fun things about running is passing someone. It doesn't matter if they are on blades, foot or even a bike, passing is always better then getting passed. When you get to say, "On Your Left", it feels good. A common mistake some people make when they hear OYL is to look to the left. That's really not what you're supposed to do. If someone yells OYL, then you are to Move To the Right. You can look afterwards to see what it is that's passing you, but for now just move. There are only seconds to spare, less if it's a bike that's passing, for you to get the 'eff out of the way. So my little trail tip for everyone is: OYL translates into Move To the Right.

When you're outside everything is different. I get minimal natural light being in a basement apt. that only has clerestory windows. But when I'm outside there is no shortage of sunshine. Different smells--fresh cut grass vs. the smell of Windex from the coffee table I just cleaned; different sounds, like birds or running water vs. the sounds from multiple Bravo shows that monopolize my weekend TV watching. Running brings me back to the basics and I think that's why I enjoy it both physically and mentally.

It's refreshing to see families outside being active or a child who is learning to ride for the first time. There is also the not-so-refreshing side of Rock Creek, too. I got a glimpse of that today and I can sum it up in one word: Bikers.

When I'm out I abide by the rules of the road: I stay to the right, I keep an eye out for what's in front and to the sides of me, and I yield when merging onto another trail. Most people do this, but not all bikers do though. Some of them seem to think those rules apply to runners, walkers and yes, even cars, but not them because they're on a bike. There are several areas where I run that are narrow and only allow two people on foot to pass safely. At the beginning and end of these strips of the trail you will see a giant yellow sign that says: BIKERS MUST DISMOUNT. And like clockwork at least once during my run I will come across a renegade biker who "doesn't see" the sign. Today it was gentleman on a mountain bike. I came to the part of the trail where we go over Rock Creek via a small bridge. The sides of the bridge are super narrow and two people running in opposite directions have to literally inhale when passing each other. I notice the runner in front of me take his foot off the pavement and, are you ready for this?, GO ON TO THE ROAD RIGHT IN FRONT OF ONCOMING TRAFFIC. I was like WTF is he doing? Then I saw the man on the bike approaching me--dead on. There was no freakin' way I was going into the road head on into mid-morning DC traffic so that this douche could get by on his bike; NO WAY. So I did the only thing I could do, I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, threw my hands and shoulders in the air as if to say "What the 'eff Old Man!" and stood there until he stopped peddling. I looked like a cross between a protester and a rapper. The whole time I was yelling, "Bikes Must Dismount, Bikes Must Dismount!", while wildly waving my fists. He looked at me like the crazy person I was and said, "What?". Again I repeated, "The Giant Yellow Sign says Bikes Must Dismount!", as I walked passed him shooting daggers. Yes, I can get aggressive when I run, not violent just mouthy.

So now I'm fired up and I start running faster. I get to the last part of my run, the nemesis of the whole trail, back up Tilden. I could walk it, but I haven't allowed myself to do that in over 2 years so now I have this thing about always running up it, even when I feel like ass--like today. As I get to the base of the hill I feel something whiz by me and look up to see another biker. He turns left just like I'm about to and starts up Tilden ahead of me. I think to myself he's going to be at the top before I even get halfway. Then I the song changes on my iPod and Brandi Carlile's, "Wasted" comes on and I get energized. I start heading up the hill and spot the biker. He's going slower then expected and I entertain the thought of catching up to him. I keep chugging, everyone has to have a goal, right? We get to the steepest part of the hill and I look up and see him a good 50 feet in front of me. I feel like the greyhound at the dog track being teased by the bunny on the rail. The hill starts to slowly plateau and I feel myself picking up some speed. He must have heard my huffing and puffing because he kept turning back to see who was making all that racket. When I feel myself gaining momentum I look over at him, he turns as if he feels my eyeballs burning a hole in his head and I give him the look that says, "Oh, it's on biker boy!" Out of nowhere I start sprinting like I'm Allyson Felix at the Olympic games. I get right next to him and didn't even bother looking, I just kept running. At the top of the hill I get stuck at the light at Connecticut and I pause for a second and think, I just beat a biker to the top of the hill. A running first for me.

Mw: 1 Biker: 0

Bring it on Tilden and all you bikers; I'm not afraid of either of you. *Said as if part protester, part rapper, all runner.*

My Barrettes Have Evolved, But My Hair Style Has Not

I used to wear animal barrettes.
They were plastic and had no metal parts or shiny pieces, just plastic. I had all kinds of animals to choose from and they came in a variety of colors. I seem to remember a blue elephant barrette the best.
I used to wear lots of primary colors. No one ever tells a little girl that they don't look good in yellow. Then you grow up and get your make-up done in a department store one day and the girl behind the counter says, "you should never wear yellow, EVER!"
I used to have bangs, overalls and shiny vinyl snow boots that I hated to wear. Sneakers had velcro and were a very big deal.
My lunch box was the best accessory I owned. I had the coolest Snoopy lunch box until it broke one day in the cafeteria. My Mom went out in pursuit of a new one and I had to use brown paper bags in the interim; the opposite cool, especially in first grade. I came home one day and found a shiny, purple STAR TREK lunch box sitting on the table. I asked, "what's this?" My Mom informed me that it was my new lunch box. "That's all they had", she explained. I stood there frozen with my coat and shoes still on, how could I go to school with a large metal box that had Spock on it? My reputation was scarred. I already had issues with my own large ears. I didn't need to be advertising to the school that I was a follower of the King of Large, Odd, Devil-like Ears..like Spock.
I rode a bus to school that had a driver named Wendy. I remember when Wendy broke her arm and I stressed about how she would still be able to operate such a large vehicle....especially in the winter on those snowy Upstate NY roads. You think I'm joking when I say "stressed", but honestly I did. I remember thinking that if all the kids sat on the same side of the bus it would cause an uncontrollable imbalance that combined with the snowy roads and the limited use of Wendy's one arm, would cause the bus to careen off the road and into the lake below. I actually thought about this scenario every day as I rode home from school. I think I was destined to worry about something, even at the age of 7.
Childhood is an interesting time for all of us. How silly is it to think that when we were that small the only thing we wanted was to be BIG. We anticipated birthdays every year because that meant a year older and an additional finger to hold up. Now a days the only time I anticipate holding up a finger is when I give someone THE finger, and honestly I don't even remember the last time I did that.
I rode a green banana bike. The banana seat was so long that I could fit two of my girlfriends on the back. I would stand up and they would hang on for dear life. Being able to navigate your neighborhood, now that was important as a kid, too. Everyone had to have their own means of getting around from place to place, or rather from house to house. There is something about being mobile that appeals to children. Maybe because it seems grown up. I don't even own a car anymore, I do have a bike. It has been slightly upgraded and can no longer hold 3. I take a train to work that holds about a few hundred people. I can tell you this with absolute certainty....it's not as fun as the green banana bike.
I used to go to a carnival every summer.
I read Beverly Cleary books and wanted a little sister like Ramona.
I thought having breakfast for dinner was the best thing ever.
I would watch the sunset over Cayuga Lake and wonder what the same sunset looked like
in Florida.
I loved my dog Ginger.
I went to Emerson Park in the summer with an orange cooler filled with sandwiches, potato chips and grape soda.
I looked forward to holidays because that meant everyone was coming over.

I wondered what my life would be like when I grew up...what I would do for a career, where I would live....the places I would travel.

How silly is it to think that when we were small the only thing we wanted was to be BIG.