The Best Birthday Present A Triathlete Could Ask For

I know what you're thinking...

Wait. She's still a triathlete?
Because I don't remember any triathlons this past year...

And you know what? You're totally right.
I took the year off of triathlons. I was broke; I was busy; I was tired... and keeping things limited to single sports just seemed easier. I went on some bike trips, I did some running races, I kept swimming and lifting weights, and I even got certified to teach a new type of fitness class...

But nope, no tris.

And I definitely missed them.

I miss feeling that total body fitness that you get from tri-training; I miss all the triathletes and the triathlon race-day atmosphere (WAY better than just running races); And yup, I miss all the tri-bloggers...

So... getting back into the hardcore triathlon lifestyle was definitely a goal of mine for this year, no matter what.

Yesterday though, I got some news that made things a hell of a lot easier. It's exciting-yelp-for-joy-oh-my-god-I'm-a-really-lucky-girl news.

I have been invited to be a part of Team Trakkers for the 2010-11 tri-season. I'm not quite sure what that's going to entail, but we have a conference call tomorrow, so I'll know a lot more then - and of course I'll keep y'all updated.

What I do know? I know I'm one of a really cool group of people, and I'm excited to train alongside them and compete with them. I know I'll be doing the Rev3Tri series this year, culminating in an Iron Distance race back in my old Ohio stomping groups. [I'm also already signed up for the Philly Tri (Oly distance), so it's turning out to be a pretty kick-ass tri-season.] I know this blog will change gears slightly in the months to come; there will be more triathlon-related posts, but of course I'll still talk about anything and everything else too...

Do I know if I deserve it? Not at all. As an athlete, I'm decidedly mediocre.

But right now, I have a chance to change that, and I'm going to go for it.

See? I told you it was the best birthday present a triathlete could ever receive. As of yesterday, I'm 28 years old and ecstatically sponsored.

Well, my eyes were bigger than my stomach...

I wanted to have a brand new site for you guys by tomorrow, but I can pretty much guarantee that's not going to happen. Soon though, that I promise.

I know it seems like I should have plenty of free time considering my part-time work status, but somehow... I just don't.

And that kind of gets at the root of a misunderstanding I've been encountering lately.

(As a warning: This may come across as defensive, but that's precisely because I am actually feeling a little defensive...)

I get the feeling that people assume that just because I don't have a 9-5 job, I just sit around all day. And, that when I'm practicing, it's because I just want to 'play the flute'.

And yes, I do love music and I love playing the flute.

But practicing is work.

And the fact of the matter is that while I don't have one specific job that I do every day, I do have approximately 47 small jobs that I do on a weekly basis. That's the nature of being a musician without a steady gig, you know? And yes, OF COURSE I would prefer something more stable. But, that's not what I have right now.

And with all those little things I do, I have to keep up with the scheduling and preparation and deadlines and logistics, or else all goes to hell, complete with an eviction.

So, even though today I don't have anything in my calendar until 7PM, that certainly doesn't mean I'm free all day. I have to practice for 4-5 hours, I have to prepare for my Teaching Artist class on Thursday, I really need to write some essays for a book (!) I'm contributing to, and jeez I need to exercise if I don't want my pants to start splitting down the middle.

And I'm not complaining. At all. That's a different post, when I'm in a different mood. Right now, I'm fine with my life. I love the variety of everything I do, and I like that each day is different...

It's just more that I feel like people (no naming names) don't understand when I say I'm busy, or that they just think I'm screwing around when I play the flute. Admittedly, I do screw around a bit, but so does everyone - and all in all? It's hard to make yourself practice day in and day out; even without the office, being a musician actually is work. And, more often than not, benefits aren't included.

(End rant; stepping off soapbox.)

My Grandmother's Refrigerator

If I didn't know for a fact that I've gained 5 lbs, I might actually think I look good tonight...

You know? I'm actually not fishing for compliments.

I just find it fascinating how numbers obsessed we all are...

I mean, I know I'm not skinny, but I also know I'm strong and fit and healthy and yes, that I look... good. Maybe not perfect, maybe not amazing, but why does that matter?

It shouldn't matter that I'm a size 6 and not a size 2 and that my boyfriend probably weighs less than me; I shouldn't care.

But somehow, I do.

The pathetic thing is that when I was actually 15-20 pounds lighter, I still wasn't happy - I still thought I needed 'work'.

So, it's not about reality; it's about some weird self-perception, and some need to always work towards the unachievable.

And it's not only about weight. It's about running and triathlon; it's about the flute; it's about doing certain things before a certain age; god, it's about anything and everything I do.

I do believe that if we don't strive to be the best, then there isn't much of a point - you should always want to improve... but at a certain point, you need to be able to step back and appreciate what you have actually accomplished... along with accepting that what you've done may just be your best, even if it's not the best.

And you know? Doing your absolute best, no matter what the outcome? That's pretty kick-ass.

So, I guess the solution is being happy with the process, and jeez that's so damn difficult. Results are easy to compare; maybe that's why races are so satisfying.

The way to the race, on the other hand - the training, the nutrition, and the overall perseverance? None of that is not really all that quantifiable.

But maybe that's good. Maybe we [and by 'we', I mean 'I'] need to keep all the results and numbers in perspective - and more importantly, just enjoy who we are, pear-shaped ass and all.

Change is good.

Well, things around here have been pretty damn stagnant as of late.

So, I'm thinking it's time for a revamping of both this site and my regular website.

Overall, everything should reflect what I'm up to now, not just a slightly edited version of me in Cleveland.

Cause you know, I'm different now...

I'm definitely going to add some audio of yours truly playing the flute, a description of what I'm doing as a Teaching Artist and flutist, stuff about writing/researching, and of course current athletic happenings (yes, I am actually still a triathlete - more about that soon!)...

But, before I get too involved and set in my ways, I would be very much open to hearing suggestions about what you guys think would benefit either site. So hand over the comments, criticism, and questions, and I'll get the ball rolling with this project...

You can expect a rolling out of the new stuff before I turn 28.

(When do I turn 28? Well, you'll just have to do a little research to figure that one out... shouldn't be too hard though - I'm disturbingly google-able.)

He Interviewed Me Again!

Over the past few weeks, John Kuhlman interviewed me about music and practice (last time around I talked about endurance sports), and the article is now posted on his website.

Just thought I'd share... would love to hear your thoughts...

Putting the Pro in Procrastination

As a further exploration of a recent tweet inferring a slight problem with actually getting writing work done as of late...

When I absolutely cannot do whatever it is that needs to be done, I:

1) Practice for 8 hours straight, convincing myself I'm doing it for the betterment of humankind.

2) Make my bed obsessively, making sure all the corners are straight, the pillows are properly fluffed, and Mr. Brain is perfectly placed.

3) Go to an orchestra concert that was awesome, but did not help me meet my 5 PM-today deadline.

4) Blog, once again convincing myself I'm doing it for the betterment...

5) Search for the perfect apartment, in the perfect location, at the perfect price.

6) Talk to my cat about all of my problems.

7) Send a superfluous amount of emails to anyone and everyone.

8) Feel sorry for myself.

9) Tell myself to stop feeling sorry for myself.

10) Drink a lot of tea, the English Breakfast variety.

11) Tri-train - go to a pool across town, a different gym for Spinning, and a third gym for Flip Fitness, weights, and the dreaded treadmill.

12) Look at myself in the mirror, wondering...

13) Feel really cheesy for just writing that last line.

I'm running out of procrastination ideas though, and soon I'm going to be forced to actually do some freaking research and maybe even obliterate that stupid blank document that I honestly believe is purposely mocking me.

Where have all the bloggers gone?

It seems like Facebook has taken over people's internet time; it's definitely taken over a lot of my internet time anyhow. And you know, Facebook is good - it enables a lot of... stuff.

But, I have to say... I miss blogging as a ritual.

So, here's my attempt to start up again, with regular thoughts and shouts and complaints and joys.

Today, while I was teaching my 60 4th graders about inflection in voices and meaning in songs, one of the classroom teachers shouted "You had better sit down and shut up or I'll send you down to the office... and I'm serious as a heart attack."

Blink.

I cracked up; none of the kids did. Apparently this metaphor has been used before.

Then, we were talking about different versions of the same song, and I referred to Version 1, and a kid blurted out "Virgin? Who's a virgin?"

4th grade.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think I knew what a virgin was in 4th grade. No judgment, but jeez...

But then, they drew some amazing pictures reflecting the different singers... one girl said the difference was that Frank Sinatra sounded like "He was walking in a scary forest in the middle of the night.", while Amy Winehouse was "Skipping through the park on a sunny day."

Yeah, that's pretty much perfect. I don't think I could have said it any better.

Now, I'm back home and I'm going to practice and get some writing done before I go to teach again and then see the Philadelphia Orchestra tonight. It's not a bad life, even if there are bad days...

Oh, and I sure do have some exciting news to tell you all about the writing stuff.

And with training? I need a month or so to finalize, but with any luck, I have some WAY-more-than-exciting news.

How's that for a teaser post?

But meanwhile, like I said, I'm now going to practice for a while. The past few days have been awesome flute-wise, and I see no reason to stop that trend.

And you know, playing scales and long tones and Bach might just quiet the incessant refrain of "Someone to Watch Over Me" that has been running through my head for the past 5 hours...

Because once you see that side of yourself, you're never the same...

[This is not written especially well; it's just me figuring things out as I type, trying to write in this space again - because I miss it, but also because I feel like I need it...]

I think that's what makes me the most angry - that there will now always be this doubt... this inner-nagging that makes me not trust myself.

And it's no one's fault but my own, but it really freaking scares me. I hate who I was back then, and I can say with confidence that I'm not that person anymore.

But, what if she comes back? What if I'm out at a bar one night and I've had a few drinks, and that person I hated just shows up again? I'd like to think I'm strong enough to fight her and go home, alone... but what if I don't?

I hate that I even think like that; it frightens me enough that I sometimes stay home at night instead of going out, just to be safe...

And then the other thing I hate? I hate that my life was changed...

I never would have wasted an evening like tonight. I would have been practicing... in Room 9, underneath the stairs...

The weird thing about that is that I actually feel as though I'm on the right track now. Finally. But, sometimes - when I hear great flutists, or any orchestra concert, or even when I'm in an airport and the background music is that horrible piped generic classical crap - I am so overwhelmingly nostalgic that I can't breathe, and I just want to be in the basement of CIM again, practicing until midnight, and then knocking on the doors again the next morning at 7:15 on the dot, because if they don't unlock the building on time you won't get your warm-ups done before theory class...

And no, I don't want to be back in school - but, that intensity I felt towards music and the flute, and just wanting, more than absolutely anything, to be a great musician... well, I want that back. Or, I still have that, actually - it's just directed differently - and maybe that's okay. Most of the time, it's okay.

But this morning, this morning I woke up feeling darkness.

And it's been a long time since I felt depressed like that, especially because there isn't any real reason for it right now. I had a great weekend, and maybe it's just coming down from that. Maybe it's because I put myself in the midst of a lot of flute players over the weekend, and I felt a pull I hadn't felt in a while. Or maybe I'm worried that he's too young, and that this is going to all end badly. Or maybe it's just raining and I prefer the sun. Or maybe I feel myself drifting away. It's too many maybes, and nothing is sure.

The pathetic thing is that I woke up not blaming myself, but blaming someone I haven't talked to in a literal year, and it was never his fault in the first place. My life changed, and at the time it was because of him, but it certainly wasn't his fault. And I'm pretty sure that's what makes me most angry of all.

The one thing of which I'm certain? That I need to figure out how to forgive both him and myself, because otherwise I'll never be able to find that young, bright flute player who believed in herself, and in love.

The Best Bathroom Sign

My Grandfather, in the first NYC marathon

The leaves in Vermont made the world look like a barrel of apples.

My Face is the Plate

Hell, yeah!!

After these messages...

...we'll be right back.

[Just taking a bit of a blog-break for a while. I'll be back as soon as things get a bit more settled here in Philly. Meanwhile, I'll still be on Twitter, if you're so inclined.]

And isn't that what it's all about, anyhow?

I guess sometimes I don't really remember why it is that I'm doing all of this.

I don't understand why I'm 27 (god, that's getting close to 30), still don't have a stable job (although I have a freaking terminating degree), am in the midst of a complete and total panic about how the hell I'm going to pay my damn bills next month (am seriously considering part-time prostitution), and why I locked myself in a practice room for 2 hours yesterday when I'm in Boulder, CO, a place where, by all that is correct and holy in this world, any functional human should be outside, enjoying the mountains, clean air, and lack of traffic.

But then, last night (and really, all of yesterday), I heard music that was so amazingly beautiful, played by such great musicians, to a completely captive audience... and that's when I realized (again): I really do love this; this hell, this torture - it touches my soul in a way few other things can even approach. And there is no limit - it goes so deep down that I just want to soak it up and die, because could there really be any better way to go?

I got to spend yesterday afternoon sitting next to George Crumb, talking to him about his music, and adding input during rehearsals. It was, for lack of a more appropriate word, awesome.

I'm not even really sure how it ended up happening, except that there were some (here's that word again) awesome faculty members who made sure I was able to talk to him for a while during his lunch break, and before I knew it, he was asking me to sit in on his non-stop schedule for the afternoon, and how could I possibly turn that down? He now has a copy of my Lecture Recital paper, and he wants to stay in touch once we're both back in the Philadelphia area.

And you know? He might not be able to get me a job, but getting to know him, even a little bit, was so much better than a stupid pay check.