I'm at It...Again

I've had enough!
I'm back in the game...

Thanks to my friends who have encouraged me (and spent countless hours listening to me whine and moan about how I am tired of being out of shape and really wish I would start running again!), I am back in training!

This week marks the first week that I have done a track workout since last April. It felt great! It was surprisingly familiar and comfortable...and I couldn't believe how easy it all came back to me.

I'm going to put in my mileage between now and Race Day (something I didn't do so well with my training last year), and I'm going to kick this Half-Marathon's ASS!

Who's with me?!

My Birth Day

Every year on my birthday, I ask my Mom one question, the same question…every year.

“Will you tell me about the day I was born?”

I can’t remember how old I was when I realized that it was tradition?

My Mom still claims that the two days of her life that she remembers most clearly are the days that my brother and I were born. When she talks about these days, she starts to get that look in her eye, and I can tell she’s going back in time.

“You were so cute!”

(She says that every year!)

She starts with the moment she woke up early that morning with contractions, then gives me every detail of her memory until the moment that she walked out of the door of the hospital.

“Having my Baby” was on the radio in the car,
Nebraska played Missouri that afternoon, and
My Dad followed every nurse that tried to take me out of the room.

This was my very first story, and while the details are important…what’s most important is the way hearing this story makes me feel. This was a day that my Mom and Dad had been anticipating with love. It is a nice feeling to be that important to someone.

Important enough that they remember you…
Important enough that they love you, and…

Important enough that they don’t mind when you ask the same question again…and again.

Stress Less

I know that I am stressed right now. My body is telling me that I am stressed. The only problem is that I can't pinpoint what exactly is stressing me. Although, I have a few ideas...

My Thesis - I come back to my thesis, over and over again. This is just hanging over my head and I can't seem to shake it. I guess if I finish it, I'd shake it, but in the meantime it is nagging. It aggravates me. I can't think how I'm going to make it happen and then I just ignore it. I've given myself one more semester. This Spring...I think that I can get this done!

My Job - Sure, I've been working long hours this semester and on occasion I have had really stressful moments when dealing with certain students, but this is nothing that feels very different from the stress that I used to feel when I was a student-athlete, trying to balance school, sport, and social life. Besides, I love my job!

My Thesis - I just moved into a new house. I love the new place, but packing all of the things you own into boxes just so you can unpack them is for the birds! I hate it. It is possibly one of the things that I hate most in life and I've been dealing with the move for the past 3 weeks...still am not fully unpacked.

If anyone who knows me has any insight into why I might be stressed right now, please let me know. And more importantly, I want to hear what I can do to reduce the stress in my life!

Stress = no bueno.

We're Texas

Unfortunately, I cannot feel the full meaning of this weekend. I did not grow up knowing about this rivalry, Texas vs. OU. The Red River Shootout had no meaning for me up in Omaha, Nebraska.

Now, what I understand is that we should dominate this series. Of course we should. We’re Texas.

When I came to college it took me a matter of weeks to learn about the rivalry that exists between our Longhorns and the Aggies, but sadly I never experienced the OU weekend in college. I was usually on the road playing volleyball. In the off-chance that we were home that weekend, my coach would strategically place practice to ensure that we stayed in Austin.

I missed out on one of the best parts of being a Longhorn.

Time to make amends…

Last year was my first trip to Dallas. My first game at the Cotton Bowl. It was also Texas’s first win in 5 years! This year, I’m going back. I have only just begun to get a taste of what this weekend means, and already it gives me goosebumps! I can’t imagine what emotions it conjures up for those who have grown up in the stands, stood on the sidelines, or run down the tunnel.

From what I can gather, each moment is the moment of a lifetime.


I have my tickets. I’ll be there to support my team. I can’t wait!

GAME ON.

Start to Finish

I cannot deny that I have amazing friends here in Austin.
It’s no wonder that it has been easy to make it my home…
And this weekend, my friends helped make it a GREAT weekend.

Start to Finish.

These are the dear ones in my life who managed to put a drink in my hand, a smile on my face, or some combination of the two this weekend!

How did I get so lucky?!

Sharing a single beer on Thursday night, catching up, listening to me and loving me just as I am. This friend knows me…and he doesn’t wish that I would drink less, he doesn’t wish I would go out more, he doesn’t wish I would wear different clothes or like different TV shows. He doesn’t always share my taste for bars or restaurants or movies, but he absolutely, always lets me be me.

Enjoying happy hour on Friday after work with my dear running friends. People who went from strangers last year at this time, to some of the most important people in my life.

Having dinner with Sharon (also running friend) at Maiko. We are becoming great friends! She is helping me better my life and I am helping her better hers. Different ways. All better!

Bumping into college friends at my new, favorite bar. This group of guys (about 25) represents, all at one time: former crushes, alright fine...still crushes, dear friends, future roommates, past mistakes, and "back-up" 40 year-old future husbands (what?!). These friends have encouraged me to take a chance and have fun. They knew me when I was 18 years old and they have known every version of me since then. In those moments when I am not the best version of myself, they like me anyway. They like me for it.

My former roommate from my days at the Ghetto at Highlands Hill Country. I can always count on her for a drink, Tex-Mex and Texas Football. We went to the game with her husband and his brother, the Alumni Center for drinks, and Taco Cabana for post game grub. She has endured good boyfriends, bad boyfriends, worse neighbors, and three moves with me and she's still standing. Ready for the next challenge. Ready to encourage me. Still my friend.

Crazy, Austin friend who seems to show up everywhere and know everyone. In one passing comment and quick hug on Saturday night, he managed to put a smile on my face for the rest of the already late evening!

My friend Blair called Sunday afternoon. (Blair, you finally made the blog!) There are two fun things about this call. First, he was – by far – more hung over than I was, and second, he called for no reason. He was driving back to Austin from a bachelor party the night before…you only call real friends for no reason.

Jane: Hello.
Blair: H-h-e-e-l-l-p-p.
Jane: Blair, does your liver hurt?
Blair: Yes! It was ridiculous!

Sweet friend from high school. She and I played basketball together, ran around with the same friends. She lives in Chicago; her boyfriend is in Austin tearing down from ACL fest. We had a tequila brunch at Guero’s together and caught up on work, family, boys and life.

My first college roommate. My tall girlfriend. That's right, she's taller than I am and she's gorgeous! She called to catch up on all of the college boys that I ran into this weekend (so many were asking about her!), plan our trip to Dallas next weekend, and catch up on our gossip. Sarah has seen every angle of my life for the last 12 years. She's been right next to me through some of my most difficult, my craziest moments. Literally. (Ha!)

Florida. I must have left five or so messages for her this weekend, received twice as many text messages from her. We connected for the tequila brunch, but hadn’t seen much of each other the rest of the weekend. Monday morning on our drives to work, we caught up. We recapped and processed the weekend. I told her all of my stories and she told me hers. We laughed and made smart-ass comments. We told each other what we should have said and what we’re going to do next time. She is almost always my first call of the day; usually that first call is after work. This morning she was still my first call, but she was also the last friend of my weekend…

That’s appropriate. Save the best for last.

Priorities

John and Cati arrived in Austin last night - smack in the middle of rush hour traffic. There was some confusion about getting a key to my place, finding the apartment, making sure that his car didn’t get towed...boring, logistical stuff like that.

I called when I was leaving work about 45 minutes later to check in on them. Worrying about whether or not they survived the logistical nightmare, if they had made themselves at home in my place, if they found everything they needed, were either of them hungry because they couldn’t find any food?! As I am about to launch into my list of questions, my brother tells me,

“Yea, we’re doing great. We found the beer.”

Great work, John! Always tuned into what's really important.
I have a lot to learn from him about finding the beer, and

I love him for it!!

ACL Pick: What Made Milwaukee Famous

I was introduced to What Made Miwaukee Famous during SXSW 2004 at a little coffee shop near UT's campus. I'm not one that knows exactly what I like about music, I just know whether I like it or not...and I like these guys!

Favorite song: Hellodrama!

I've heard some of their new stuff live, but haven't purchased the new CD yet...which means I don't know the names of the new songs. I do know that they are playing ACL this year, Saturday at 6:30pm, Austin Ventures Stage. I suggest you check them out. There's gonna be a lot of good music at next weekend's festival...but these guys, for sure, are gonna ROCK!

Time with Family

I used some of my vacation time this summer to visit my brother at his home in Kansas City. Actually, he and his girlfriend live in Olathe, Kansas...just outside of KC. We only had a few days, but it was a great vacation!

I enjoyed sushi for the first time. Went to a yoga session where I did my first head stand. Got to spend some good "out" time with John & Cati. Visited a winery one afternoon. Enjoyed a great Italian dinner with my parents. Introduced the whole crew to the way we make ritas here in Austin (Mike you'd be proud!)...and from what I can gather they're hooked! Was treated to a fabulous steak dinner...

And made a trip to the botanical gardens just outside of KC.

Where we played...

We laughed...

And we let Mom take photos of us (I think this is the 3rd try) ;-)

Thanks for such a nice trip, John & Cati...
I can't wait to host you both during ACL weekend!!

We're Bringing Sexy Back

Just Try...Put It Out There

I am trying to graduate this semester...
with my master's degree.
I only have my thesis left...
and it's making me crazy!

Seriously.

I'm sitting here in the library on campus right this second. I can't remember the last time I was actually working on school work in a library?! I have given up trying to get any semblance of work done at my apartment...and now, thanks to the internet, I'm not getting any work done at the library. Perfect.

I read a fun blog yesterday. It made me think about good sandwiches and dividing sandwiches, and corn. I still need to find out what my brother thinks about corn...but it was a funny thing to think about for a few minutes yesterday afternoon. I thought I'd write a whole blog about it...but I settled for contributing to the comment section on Ami's blog.

I've been writing on my blog, for all to see, for several months. I have never really considered myself a writer, but find that I have something to say from time to time. Not usually earth-shattering, but sometimes it hits a nerve. Regardless, it's me and it's what's on my mind.

One thing, though, that I still can't figure out about the whole blogging phenomenon is the non-commenter. I'm one of those really sad, pathetic people who actually forward their blog to their friends and family from time to time, hoping that someone will read it. I'm not now, nor will I ever be an ACTUAL writer who can rely on people checking in for updates.

But that is besides the point (and yes, I know it is "beside"...but I happen to like "besides" better). Please don't correct me on this one.

My point IS...I don't really understand the people who will reply to my email with really good stuff, but won't post a comment for others to see. Some of the feedback I get, really should be shared. Oftentimes it is something substantial to add, but they don't seem to want anyone else to see what they have to say. I don't know...maybe there is something a bit frightening about putting your words out there for other people to see and read...and judge.

I think it's fun to see what someone else is going to say about what I've said. I try to comment on other people's blogs so that they know they've written something that is good, something that is fun, something that made me think. It's nice to know that your words have reached someone...and you might find, maybe, if you return the favor, YOUR words will reach back.

Don't fake it, but if you can come up with something real, something witty (read: smart-ass), something that will make another person think or laugh (or even cry), well then...

Give it a try. That's all I'm sayin'.

Dog Days of August

This month seems very non-descript to me today, for some reason. There are no holidays, the heat is almost always unbearable which makes me want to stay inside, I’ve already taken my vacations, and I’m just waiting. Waiting for the students to arrive, waiting for the school year to start...waiting for something.

For eight years of my life, August has meant the beginning of volleyball season. I'd have my summer training behind me, and was hoping that I had worked out enough for the coaches not to kill me in the first weeks of the season. Some years I was in great shape, other years...not so much. I miss the excitement that came in being reunited with teammates who I hadn’t seen in months, telling stories from our time apart, putting on the fresh practice jerseys and new shoes. Seeing if we could still read one another. If we were still a team.

The awkwardness in the new faces of the freshman.
The adjustment to the new leadership of the upper classmen.
The thrill that came when I picked up the volleyball for the first time, again.

The days that followed that first practice back were some of the most intense days of pain I’ve ever felt in my life…every single year! This was nothing that my summer training could ever prepare me for…there was nothing that an ice pack or ice bath, for that matter, could remedy. This was part of the territory, part of the battle. This was the moment that separated the strong from the weak. We bonded through the pain. Who would push through the fact that they couldn’t even turn over at night without being woken up by the pain, let alone manage a flight of stairs? Laughing was no longer pleasant, and I was just praying that I had something to hold onto when I needed to sit down. A true competitor takes pride in this kind of pain. It means that you are getting better. When it comes down to it during the season, and the game is on the line…you have known pain, and you have overcome it.

This was my life for eight years. And now, it has been eight years since my last August preseason. This month has not been the same for me since I hung it up. Those moments still linger for me. Reminding me of the days that I would step onto the court and challenge someone, anyone to make me better. I thought of those days when I was running my first marathon this past February. Remembering what I had been through helped me push through the hardest part on that day.

I still think of those days, but now it is different…

No, August hasn’t been the same for me, but that’s okay. Time passes and things change. You have to take the good with you and keep moving forward toward the better.

I no longer have the goal of a National Championship set out before me every year. My goals are different. I hope to touch the lives of young people and encourage them to achieve their dreams. In each of their dreams, I reach mine.

Lucky for me…I’ll get to step onto the court one more time this month. I won’t be as quick, as explosive, or as talented. But it should be just as fun! Maybe even more so. This time I’ll appreciate every second of it…

That's...Killer Banana

I have been a member of the Austin Duathletes since my second pub run this past fall (pub run: the 3rd Thursday of every month, we run approximately 5 miles while stopping at 3-5 bars along the course). I paid my $15 dues and told my friend Panther, the president, that I am not a cyclist and only just barely own a bike. He didn’t seem to think that was a reason for me not to join…so I did and got an AD t-shirt out of the deal.

I’ve been on several pub runs since that time but until this past weekend had not even attempted to get on my bike. Sunday morning, though, all that changed! Not only did I hop on my bike and take it out for an inaugural spin, I kicked ass! I rode about 32-35 miles on my mountain bike, which I’m told is equivalent to much more than that if I had been on a road bike. I rode on country roads and through trailer parks. I was chased by a vicious chuahua! I rode next to my buddy, Tim the entire way…we took a few wrong turns, but we still made it out just fine!

So what that I had to be picked up by my coach before I made it back to home base?! I still consider my first ride a HUGE success! AND…I’m really excited about getting into cycling. I was dehydrated and tired, but the workout was much more fun that any running workout that I’ve done. I’ve decided to join Team Punishment and see if I can refine my skills. I've been told that I'll have to change my nickname from Banana to Killer Banana to properly represent Team Punishment. I can handle that.

Another sport down…just one more to go before I’m ready for my first triathlon! I'm going to need a good swim coach…

Longhorns at the 2006 ESPY's

A Kick Ass Ring

I discovered tonight that it is just not right to take a photo of a National Championship ring with a piece of crap camera. Either the photos are fuzzy and blurry or the flash washes out the details of the really cool ring.

The best that I can do is to direct you to an article that tells the story about the ring and has better photos that I'm able to provide. It's too bad, because the ring is kick ass.

Kick ass...Just like our Longhorns!

A Crush By Any Other Name

The other day I overheard one of the girls telling us about her coach...

“Have you met J, yet?! I totally have a crush on him…well, NOT LIKE THAT (hahaha)! He’s just awesome. I really like it when he’s around!”

I knew EXACTLY what she was talking about!

I get crushes all the time. This is what I mean…

My first crush came in elementary school. Rob Kirchoffer. He ended up being my first boyfriend. I think that I sent (or maybe I received) an “I like you. Do you like me? Please check YES or NO,” note from him between classes one day. It was great!

In high school, I had crush after crush after crush. Finally to the age that interest could lead to an actual date. I had…no takers. Reise was my most memorable high school crush. He was two years older than me, an athlete. He had a sister in my grade. To me, he was sweet as could be. He innocently flirted with me, encouraged me, and looked out for me.

Today, when I say that I have a crush on someone, I mean that there is something about the person that draws me to him/her. There is something that I want to know more about, and I want to reveal to them more about me. There is some kind of connection that dares ask, “I like you…and I want you to like me. Would you?” In the same, innocent way that I asked my first boyfriend, who during our relationship only sat with me at the lunch table.

Would you like to have a coffee, a drink? Would you like to hang out? Would you like to talk about life with me? Would you like to know about what I do and what I think? I would like to know about you.

There is energy in the interaction, but it is not a romantic energy. Though, it is still fun and exciting and honest. I think that in life there are many levels of attraction. I am attracted to some people because I like their humor. I am attracted to others because I admire the way that they have found success in life. I am attracted to honesty and beauty. I am attracted to fun and the willingness to seek out adventure. My attraction does not always lead to romantic interest (although sometimes it does, but that is different).

Everyone knows people who you genuinely like, but can only take in small doses. There are those, however, that mean more. You can’t explain it…you just like being around them as much as possible. They make you laugh, they share your interests, they challenge you. You leave their presence feeling better about the world and about yourself. These are the kind of people that I like to befriend…and keep around. When I meet someone that I think might be this kind of friend…well, those are my crushes. Sometimes, I am misunderstood and it becomes awkward, but most of the time…my crushes turn into friends. Some of them, dear friends.

So, the next time you hear me talking about my latest crush, know that…

I don't mean it LIKE THAT!

something to be

written by Rob Thomas

hey man
i don't wanna hear about love no more
i don't wanna talk about how i feel
i don't really wanna be me no more

dress down now i look a little too
boy next door
maybe i should try to find a downtown whore
that'll make me look hardcore
i need you to tell me what to stand for

i've been looking for something
something i've never seen
we're all looking for something
something to be

hey man
play another one of those heart break songs
tell another story how things go wrong
and they never get back
my pain is a platinum stack
take that shit back
you don't wanna be me when it all goes wrong
you don't wanna see me with the houselights on
i'm a little too headstrong
stand tall
i don't wanna get walked on

i can't stand what i'm starting to be
i can't stand the people that i'm starting to need
there's so much now
that can go wrong
and i don't need somebody
trying to help it along
it's the same old song
everybody says you've been away too long
everybody wanna tell you what went wrong
wanna make you like an icon
till you believe that they're right

My Celebrity Heart-ThROB...

...in concert at The Backyard, this Friday!!

I (Heart) Austin

Just back from a GREAT trip to Florida with my girlfriend Lindsey...

We had a great time relaxing on the beach!
Slept until 11am most mornings.
Enjoyed plenty of cocktails.
I met Lindsey's friends from college!
All-in-all, an A+, success of a vacation!

Still...

There's something about Austin, you can't help but miss when you're gone. I would like to try and describe it here, but I just can't come up with the right words or the best story. I suspect that Mike is better at this than I am.

I was at a beautiful beach for the past six days and I couldn't help but think about this city...the people, the food, the feel of Austin. I know that I was meant to live here. Since the day I stepped foot into this city (August 1994), I have not once considered leaving it.

I love that I can stop in just about anywhere and have good queso and a great margarita! I love that I can wear flip-flops and forget to comb my hair and no one will notice...well, maybe they notice, but they don't care. I love that on any given night, there is a chance I'll run into someone I know. I love that this is my home...and every time I leave, it welcomes me back.

I (heart) Austin.

The Princess Bride

I just put this photo on my desktop at work. It is very good for me to be reminded of the great people that I have in my life...

This is my sweet friend Tiffany on her wedding day...
She is beautiful!

Tiff and I have been friends since the 7th grade. She played on my very first volleyball team, ever! While I couldn't shake the sport, she went on to become a cheerleader. We survived high school together in Omaha, Nebraska, and have remained the dearest of friends. She is the kind of friend who knows some of the best things about me and some of the worst things about me, but loves me just the same.

We live several states apart, but whenever we have the chance to reconnect...it is as if not a single day has passed between us. She is one of the truest people that I have ever known. To this day...one of my biggest cheerleaders! I love her for it.

P.S. The estimated average height of Tiff's wedding party - 5'10"

Breaking my Habit Before Breaking my Back

My back started hurting me about six weeks ago. After a short run, I woke up the next morning and couldn’t stand up straight. Normally, a sore back goes away for me in a day or too, but I couldn’t shake it this time, so I decided to make an appointment with my chiropractor.

I saw a chiropractor for the first time when I was playing volleyball during my college days. From an out-of wack shoulder, to pulled abdominal muscles, a temperamental knee to a sore back, my visits to the chiropractor seemed to cure it all...and as the training intensity increased, so did my visits.

I had started feeling better, much better since I scheduled the appointment. Even so, I found out that I had slipped a disc but that my body was already on the way to recovery. More importantly, I found out that I should NOT be popping my back or my neck. I was told that my tendency to do this aggravated the problem and that I should stop immediately. So, the challenge has been extended...

It turns out that I pop my back about a half-dozen times every day. More than that if it’s tight or hurting me. My neck…I probably attempt to pop at least once every hour. Already this morning, I’ve caught myself mid-pop about five times. I’m going to try to do this, though. My chiropractor has promised that I’ll end up with a stronger back as a result, and who doesn’t want a strong back?

So, if you see me around and I’m popping my back or my neck, do me a favor...pop me upside the head! I need to break this habit.

An Email From Allan

Oh Jane, Sweet, sweet, Jane...

Love is not found in bars, and if it is, it usually comes in a foil wrapper with a shelf life of six to eight months. You deserve so much more than that...

If you're not willing to play "Mrs. Robinson" to a potato farming neophyte from Boise then I must say that an establishment named after a flaming terrorist weapon used in the Bolshevik revolution is probably not your best choice of venues.

As for the men making unsolicited and ill-mannered advances toward you, they should thank whatever deity they think covers their respective asses that I was not there to defend your honor. Sure I might be a smidgen further away than most of my fellow six-footers, but I am trained in the arts of both Jew Dough, (the art of pummeling unleavened bread with weapons purchased at wholesale prices) as well as in full contact origami, (I can inflict a paper-cut that would make Mike Tyson cry like a baby). And, while my hands aren't officially registered with the police as weapons, they are registered at both Macy's and Crate & Barrel under the category of "cutlery" and/or "lawn furniture".

Now back to the May-December romance you almost found yourself in with Sun Valley Steve...the key word you use to describe Steve and others like him is "boy". That is the foremost indicator of where you are going wrong Ms. Winkel. That is the fly in the ointment, the hitch in your get-along and the issue at hand. "Boys" are here to earn merit badges, catch frogs and partake in the essential "alone time" in their bedrooms. All these are rites of passage, invaluable to the transition into manhood, however, as we all know, if you pick a piece of fruit from a tree that is not yet ripe then you will only taste the bitterness of impatience (and most likely will have a ruined dress on your hands...).

A man is what you need. Preferably a shorter man, an athletic, rough yet gentle man, a man that is as broad as he is tall. A man that wears his heart on his sleeve and yet always wears long-sleeve shirts. A man that can laugh with the sinners and cry with the saints, drink with the drunks and stay sober with weanies that drink Perrie. A man than can make a mean bouillabaisse, (a delicious French/Cajun Stew for those left unaware), and still be there to cut off the crusts of your grill cheese sandwich while drinking tequila from a dirty glass.

There you have it, Sweet, sweet, Jane...

You going to Molotov tonight?

Calm Before the Storm

Golden

Today was the day!

I got the email last week and marked my calendar so fast I almost fell out of my chair. This would call for me to be awake and on campus earlier that I'm used to, but if needed I would have been here at 5:30 this morning. Today PTS handed out summer parking permits...the golden ticket. When I say "handed out," I actually mean "let us pay $30 for," but it's still exciting! Don't tell anyone, but I would have paid more.

Instead of spending between 7-10 minutes every morning walking from my parking garage, I have upgraded to a surface permit. I am now right across the street, cutting my walk time down to less than 5 minutes. It put a smile on my face and a little skip in my step and I suspect that it will be this way all summer long!

To those of you who do not try to park on campus, who have a spot right outside your office, it is likely you think that it is stupid for me to get so excited about a parking pass. For those of you who know the perils of campus parking...angry attendants, special events, a hundred permits sold for each single space just so you can walk for 10-20 minutes across campus from the best spot you can find...those of you who know can probably feel the butterflies in your stomach. You are jumping up and down right now for me and giving PTS the middle finger!

For the next three months, I'm golden!

Not-So Meaningless Moments

Last night, it was 9pm by the time I made the initial phone call. I was tired and very comfortable on the couch at this point. I probably should have just gone to bed, but I decided to see what was going on...

I ended up getting an invite to a book club meeting.
Actually, it was a failed book club meeting.
Apparently, only two people showed up.
One of them owned the house...

In typical fashion, I decided to throw on some clothes, walk out my front door, and meet up with my friends Tony and Phil. When I arrived, I was offered a beer and the three of us sat around Tony’s house and talked until close to midnight. My evening was not earth-shattering. It was nothing special, not really. But maybe it was something...

I feel like I know both of these guys a little bit better than I would if I had stayed home on my couch. They know a little more of me as well. I know that when I run into them again, which will probably be tonight, that we will be able to say to each other, “do you remember last night when we drank a couple of cold beers and laughed about ‘this’ or ‘that’?”

Other people won’t be able to share that same experience, that same connection...

I have countless friendships that have started over a drink or two just like this. Friendships are formed, I think, in the small seemingly meaningless moments. This is why I make it a point, as often as I can, to say “yes” when I am invited to share in one of these moments. I know that it could be one more experience, one more memory, one more story to add to an already existing friendship, or it could be the opportunity to make a new friend, to connect to someone I have never met before.

I know that people are different, that they are driven by different motivations and desires, but even still I have a hard time understanding why everyone doesn’t take those opportunities.

My closest friends seem to be the ones who do...who at the drop of a hat can meet me anywhere, just to hang out. For me, life is lived on the other side of the front door. That is where I meet the world and share my life (and often a drink) with the people living in it.

Cheers.

The Tradition Continues

Texas/OU weekend will stay in Dallas through 2010!!

Celebrating the 2005 Texas victory over OU at the Cotton Bowl...
Go Horns!

Snooze

I have made it a habit of pressing the snooze button – for at least an hour every morning! I don’t know if I am going to bed too late, setting the alarm too early or just being lazy. I suspect that it is some combination of all three.

Every night on my way to bed, I honestly say to myself, “Tomorrow I’m going to be to work by 7:45am. If I get out of bed by 6:15am, I can make it in plenty of time. That's easy.” Then, every morning at 6:15am, I start the dance.

What is that noise and how do I get it to stop?!...

I’ll just snooze one more time...

I don’t think I need to iron my clothes today...

Just three more minutes...

Okay, this is the last time...

And before you know it, it’s been an hour. By this time, it’s 7:15am and now I’m going to be late if I don't start moving. I know that I can wake up early. I do it for all of my races on the weekend. I just can’t figure out how to make a habit of it during the week.

It might just be that I have problems, although this is not news to me.

Good night, wish me luck in the morning!

Rogue 5K/10K PRty 2K6

What Did You Call Me?

I think my dad was the first person to tell me that the sound each human being likes to hear most in the world is the sound of their name. He was trying to teach me social skills. I have since heard the same thing in workshops and in the classroom. I don’t think that anyone would argue that it is important to know a person’s name and to call him or her by that name.

My mom is a school teacher. She has been teaching for over 35 years. Because of her experience with hundreds and hundreds of young children, she had very specific guidelines when she was choosing a name for her first-born.

1) She wanted a name that was decidedly feminine
2) She wanted to use the common spelling of the name
3) She did not want to be able to derive a nickname from the given name

I was given the name Jane. Because of my Mom’s thoughtful deliberation, I have never been confused for a male, and only on rare occasions have people misspelled my first name. She was not, however, able to save me from being given nicknames.

Now, I know what she was getting at…she didn’t want a Jennifer to be called Jenny her whole life or a Christina to be called Christy. She wanted me to be known by my given name, and I am. I have, however, also been blessed to have had numerous friends throughout the course of my life call upon me by other names. These are names that I have been known by, names that I would respond to over and over again. Each name brings back warm memories of the specific person who knew me by that name. Here is my list…

Jane-o
Pa-chain-o
Wink
Wink-lay
Twinkle Toes
Plain Jane
Plainer Janer
Plainer
Number 9
Janie
Mumpus
Winkel
Janie Pants
Merry Jane
Jane Lu
Banana
Nanner

(While I wouldn’t consider them nicknames, it is also worth noting that I have been called or referred to by the following: Kate, Jake, Lindsey, and Ann.)

There is something special about a nickname. There is a story behind the name and there is usually a story behind the relationship. Most of the time, it is something that makes you smile, or reminds you that you are special to someone else. It is good…and the sound of this name may be an even more desirable sound than that of a given name, when it's spoken by the right person.

After all, my dad calls me Sweetheart. I’m not sure that I can remember the last time he called me Jane…maybe when he was trying to get my attention in a crowded room? Even he knows that sometimes, in some cases, a person’s given name might not be the thing that they like to hear best. Sometimes, it is their nickname.

Seeing Stars

Yesterday's Workout:
warmup to Texas School for the Deaf
10 X 300m at 1 mile pace
100m recovery after each 300m
NO WALKING
cool down back to RunTex

The point of this workout, I was told, is to prepare the body to buffer the lactic acid that builds up during a race. If your legs feel like dead weight, I was told, keep pushing through! If you can't breathe...well, only then should you walk during the recovery.

Great! Hopefully I can keep breathing...should be a fun workout?!

I ran the first 300m right at my pace. Second 300m, I'm pretty sure was at pace, too. Tim had to drop out after the second lap because of a shooting pain from his hip to his knee. I was sorry that he was hurting, but I was even more sorry that he had to drop out...because he was my watch for this workout. I have no idea whether or not I ran the rest of the workout at pace or not, but I tried my very best. I didn't start seeing stars until after the 4th 300m and I didn't walk until after the 6th. I only walked during this one recovery. All-in-all, a successful workout. No pain in my knee, no giving up, no vomiting.

Proceed to happy hour at Aussie's. Good job!

It's a Boy!

Today is an important day in my life.

It might be selfish of me to think of my brother’s birthday as an important day in MY life, but it is. Twenty-eight years ago today, I became a big sister. John can hardly be considered my ‘little’ brother anymore, since he outgrew me years ago…but I will always be his big sister, as far as I’m concerned.

We have been through a lot together. We have been each other’s playmate and each other’s teammate. We have each been an enemy and a friend. We have stood by one another in the good times, and we have stood up for one another in the bad times. I have been John’s biggest fan, and while I may not have always deserved it, he has been mine.

I think there is a special bond between siblings. My brother understands things about me…things that I usually have to explain about myself, even to my closest friends. Somehow, between John and I though, no explanation is needed. I am glad to have him. He has been someone to keep me humble, someone to pick me up, and someone to cheer me on. He is someone who appreciates where I’ve come from and who believes in where I am going.

Today is the day that he was born.

His life changed my life…for the better, I’d say.

Happy Birthday, John. I’m glad you’re here, bro!

I am a Runner

Just over one month ago, I ran my first marathon. On February 19, 2006, I stepped up to the start line and I didn’t stop running for 26.2 miles when I fell across the finish line. I know that it was a very profound experience in my life, but I’m still not sure that I can fully grasp what transpired on that icy day. It did not begin with the gun; it began six months earlier in September, when I decided to show up for the first workout. It began at the RunTex Annex, in front of a goofy-looking man who told me that in a matter of months, I would consider a 10-mile workout, a short run! Yeah right…

Inspired by our coach, who nicknamed himself ‘Panther’, my team named themselves the Olives and while we ran together twice a week, we really ‘met’ at happy hour. Kindred spirits. The training was long and difficult, full of pains and struggles and a lot of mornings that I didn’t want to get out of bed! I did it though. I pushed myself because I had people that were expecting me and really, I was expecting myself.

About one week from the marathon, it started to really set in…what I was about to do. My training group had a pre-race party with motivational speeches and the golden ‘race plan’. Steve Sisson, the goofy-looking man from September, stood before a room packed full of people and described for us what it was going to be like to run the course. He said (and I will never forget the way he said it) that when we crossed the finish line, we would never be the same. Whether it was for the first time or the 50th time, we would be changed forever.

A few days before, I had sent out a request to all of my friends and family to be cheering for me and thinking of me the morning of my run. I had a much larger response than I was expecting! This was my favorite…

Dear Jane,

First, thank you for including me on this list! Secondly, I am so proud of you. Not just for your training and hard work, but that you reached out to those of us that love you and asked for support. That is such a wise move on your part.

Just know that the motivation seated deep in your core that urged you to begin this process will not let you down. Also, know that whether you finish the race or not is not as important as the process of getting to this point.

I hope to see you and to yell your name out along the way. If I don’t get there, I will be holding you in my heart. In a Native American Sundance, supporters eat and drink for the dancers who fast the entire length of the dance (4 days). I will be eating and drinking for you to send strength, nutrition, and courage all along the way.

Please write again and describe your success of the event.

Love you!

~Jan

In preparation, I gathered the support of my loved ones. I drank water and electrolytes just like I was told. I went to bed early all week, made sure my running clothes were clean. I picked up my packet two days before and prepared for the cold weather that was promising to hit. I WAS READY! Friday night I carbo-loaded with the help of my friend Lindsey, and went to bed early! Saturday I went for the prescribed 4-mile run and did nothing the rest of the day but lie on my couch and watch movies. By Saturday night, I was ready to go…I set my alarm AND my phone and had arranged for two of my teammates to call me just to make sure I didn’t sleep through it…

As I was finding my way from the parking garage to the buses that would take me to the start line, I took a wrong turn (it was early and I was nervous and I wasn't sure where I was going). A man with the race approached me and pointed me in the right direction. ‘The runners are going on those buses. Are you a runner?’ he asked me. I had only decided about one week before that I was, in fact, a runner. ‘Yes,’ I told the man at 5:15 in the morning. ‘Yes, I am a runner.’ When I used to play volleyball, I would always look for small clues around me that would tell me whether or not my team was going to win that night. Sometimes it was the focus in a teammates eye, other times a particular song that played on the radio when my alarm went off that morning. After my exchange with this man at the buses, I knew I was going to win this one.

I ran most of the way with my teammates. I cheered for anyone who had a Rogue shirt and I cheered especially hard for my fellow Olives. I ran beside Tim and finished only a few seconds behind him. We hadn’t run together the entire six months of training, but found that our pace was the same and that we needed to rely on each other to get through this together. We lost each other about mile 22. I finished just 15 seconds behind him.

I almost bit the dust early, on one of the icy bridges. Nothing was going to stop me though...’I'm doing it!’ was my mantra and while I wanted to stop many, many times along the way, I never truly entertained the idea. I forced myself to recall the hills that I had run and all of the workouts that I had been through that kicked my ass...no way was I going to stop.

A good friend of mine jumped in to run with me just after mile 15 and I've never been so happy to see a human being as I was at that moment to see my friend Lara! She didn't turn cartwheels or do a cheer for me, but she ran with me and occasionally would look over, smile and tell me ‘you look GREAT!’ I know that she was lying, but the lie made me feel better and made it easier to keep running.

I had friends along the course who braved the ice and the early morning to support me. They were AWESOME! I tried to charm as many of the spectators as I could. Give them a smile or a high-five. By the final stretch, I had complete strangers cheering as loud as they could for me. People I had seen four and five times along the course. I will never know them, but they were a significant part of my experience and success!

I never hit a wall...I had my ups and downs, but no wall. Once I got to mile 23, I figured that it was going to keep hurting no matter what I did at that point. I decided that if I could go a little faster, then it would all be over that much faster. By the time I turned right onto the final bridge, I felt like I was sprinting. It may not have looked that way to the crowd, but it sure felt that way to me. I heard the noise and I even heard Evil announce my name, but I really didn’t see anyone. I could only see the finish. I didn't have any thing left when I crossed the finish line and I burst into tears as soon as I could find a spot on the fence to hold myself up.

Within seconds I had three of my dearest friends around me, hugging me and telling me how proud they were of me. I hurt a lot, but the moment felt great. I started looking for the rest of the Olives and Rogues...

I am so proud of my finish in the marathon (4:43, just under my goal 4:45), but again am overwhelmed by how important my teammates and coaches have become to me. I was fired up when I ran into Panther at the start line, and I couldn’t have hugged Steve any harder when I saw him at the finish...I felt so much love for all of the Olives and other Rogues that I saw out on the course that day, struggling but ‘doing it’ all the same. I guess going through such a grueling experience together creates pretty solid friendships.

Not everyone in my running group had a good day. There were some who were dealing with the disappointment of injury or not meeting their time. Steve posted on the forum to encourage those runners. While my race was a victory, I was still inspired by his words…

This is the reason we set goals...to challenge us, to stretch our limits, to experience life on the edges of what we can handle. Whenever you take this kind of challenge you take a risk. The risk is disappointment, failure, and despair. These are certainly undesired feelings & emotions. But what is the alternative? Many folks sat in their homes & watched the event on TV or sat on the sidelines cheering, or never even gave the event a thought. Is that what you would prefer to failure? I don't think so...If you don't risk anything, then you are risking even more. You are taking the path of comfort, of ease, of low expectations & low rewards. Yesterday was a battlefield & you were all warriors. Regardless of the outcome you fought the good fight for a great cause...experience. Now take that experience & learn more about the race, about your training, about yourself. If you do that then this entire experience, whether good or bad, develops great worth. Pick yourself back up & get moving...there are miles to go before your next opportunity to risk.

Why didn’t I start running sooner?