11.19.16 Black is black.

Black.  Black.  Black.  Black.  That’s what I think of the future.

It’s the reason I’m doing my best not to look at Facebook (which, like giving up any addiction, gets easier after time).

I’m not promising to march, fight, write, protest, or anything else.  I do not believe it will make a difference in my lifetime.

I’m mostly OK inside my house.  (Where I control the content/media — there is none.)  I cry when I leave the house.  Randomly, as I drive, I cry about the hopelessness of it all.

I’m not running much — I cannot run while I cry.

In telling (medical) folks of my bleak outlook this week, two different (Jewish) people told me that people survived the Holocaust.  Wow.  That’s really hopeful.

Yesterday, I was encouraged to listen to Warren Buffett’s interview given the day after the election.  He was a big Hillary supporter, but is, more than anything, a big American supporter.  He believes Valdamort will do fine.  Buffett is more hopeful than I.  (I wonder if being at the ending of your life — he’s nearly 90 — is a different viewpoint than being a good ways off, one hopes.)  He is gung-ho on America’s ability to survive.

In the same afternoon, I read an article by a historian who believes we are one spark away from WWIII; which is what I believe.  (Sorry Warren.)

Today, a Valdamort supporter tried to engage me in conversation and I looked at it and said, “I don’t want to be friends.  Go away.”  And it did.  I don’t feel good, but I don’t feel bad (at least about that).

Robert Reich seems to be getting to me.  He wrote a great piece yesterday about don’t allow this to become normalized.  It’s bad, Valdamort is bad, and the things being proposed are bad.  I’m not ready to be mobilized, but I am reading what he’s saying.

And of course Elizabeth Warren, firecracker that she is, is right on target and raising hell.  Gotta love her.

Black, black, black, black.

11.14.16 – I won’t know if you’re reading this on Facebook.

I’m trying to wean myself off of Facebook.  Today has been a pretty good day.  I took the app off my phone.  Moving to a third or forth screen wasn’t far enough away.  I left the Messenger app, as occasionally I get a message that way.

At the end of the election process, I knew FB was a bad thing, reinforcing my own prejudices and beliefs without offering any differing opinions — or making fun of differing opinions.

Now, I don’t want to hear the dire stories.  I already know things are dire.  (Actually, as I told my financial planner today, my view of the future is black.)

Over the vacation, I came to realize that my phone (iPhone 6) was only holding a charge about 2 hours a day, often times less.  I went to the T-Mobile store Saturday and learned the phone is under warranty.  Today I picked up a new (refuburished) phone.  Good and bad news.  Getting a new phone means losing all your apps, about 1/2 of your contacts, and all the familiar settings.  What a pain.  I’m not sure if longer battery life is worth this.  We’ll see.  (Not using FB might “automatically” extend battery life.)

T-Mobile has ok (not great) coverage in the greater LA area — no where as good as Verizon.  It has crap service outside of urban areas.  It’s prices are probably a touch higher than Verizon for a single line.  And, if you’re talking to other T-Mobile users, it’s like being in the same room with them.  Everyone else is adequate, but not stunning transmission clarity.  But, it is the only carrier with any kind of international  plan — and the plan is good.  I just came back from three weeks out of the country and I’m going to Germany next year to visit my sister.  So that great international coverage is enough of a benefit that I’m going to upgrade to a larger memory phone (same model), which will lock me into another 2-year contract.

And with that, I’m taking my black-future self to bed.

 

 

11.13.16 – Move along. Nothing to see here.

Today I played with a three-month-old (there’s nothing like baby skin) and ran at the beach — both pretty life affirming.

When we left New Zealand, we had so much stuff — running gear, fishing gear, and 35 pounds of smoked trout — that we had to buy a duffle and ship some of the stuff home as a second checked suitcase with Dora.  I went today and picked up my share of the fish and 3-week-old dirty running gear.

When we left Australia, we had so much stuff ( who bought all that stuff?) that we had to buy a duffle and check a second bag flying home.

The amusing part of the story is that we bought the same bag in New Zealand and Australia for virtually the same price.  Matching luggage.

I finished off the day running in Huntington Beach.  There’s something super restorative about those waves — the air, the noise, the waves.

11.12.16 – Move Along. Nothing to see here.

Yes Trump is “our president”, in the sense that he won the election.  But recognizing that fact does not require us to buy into the fantasy that his inevitable lawlessness will be legitimate.  We should steel ourselves for a ghastly new year of violence and repression, ushered in by the consolidation of power around an autocratic maniac and his pathetic enables.  As Gessen admits, this may sound hysterical.  Maybe it is.  I’d like to think I’m wrong.  I do not think I am.

— Slate writer Mark Joseph Stern quoting Russian dissident Marsha Gessen

New York Times reports that Trump wants to spend weekends in his NYC or FL home; relaxing and playing golf.

New York Times reports that Trump wants to continue holding campaign-style rallies.

***

So it would appear that Trump is going to be hands-off in a way that Regan could only dream of.  And of continued ego building while potentially alienating his political base.  As horrible as Mike Pence’s policies would be, at least they’d be recognizable as policies.  I wonder if he’d put up with the looniness of Rudy Guliani or Sarah Palin?

I went to see George Takei talk tonight at the Carpenter Center on the Long Beach State campus.  Famous as Mr. Sulu in the original Star Trek TV show, and in a number of movies, George’s life is one of amazing American struggle.  Interned (incarcerated in his words) as part of the round-up of Japanese Americans in WWII, gay at a time that all gays were closeted, in his prepared 1 hour talk he remains very  upbeat about the long-term good in America.  However, when, at the end of the Q&A session there was a question about the election, it was clear from his answer and the unease in the room that nobody is taking these days lightly — roughly 1,000 people worried about the future is a lot of worry in a single place.

I want to get to the mental place that I can not care what these people do in the coming months.  I’ve simply got to get off of Facebook (unless I can figure out how to unsubscribe…or maybe unfollow…all the liberal sites sending me bad stories about, well, everything).

Immediate goals:  (1) Meditate every day.  (2) Exercise every day.  (3) Back to clean eating.

Secondary goals:  (4) Winter garden.  (5) Esty store.  (6) Make stuff for Esty store.  (7)  Pitts.

11.11.16 – Move Along. Nothing to see here.

You never can tell where the next, best input is going to come from…

Maggie Ritchie‘s mother, who is 80+, told her that the coming fight is for the younger generation. My mother, who is 85+, told me yesterday that she doesn’t have it in her (literally) for the fight that’s coming; the fight she went through in the 60-70’s. I’ve been thinking about this overnight. I agree.

What’s different, of course, is that we are coming from a position of having the rights now feared imperiled, rather than coming from a position of not having theses rights. And, again, of course, I live in California so a lot of the flak isn’t going to happen here. Reproductive rights will, to the extent responsibility is delegated to the states, continue to exist in California.

As a person of non-color (OK, pink is a color), I currently fear discrimination only on two levels — being female and over 50. I really cannot cope with more than that (I’ll probably get better over time). If I had another couple of levels — think of also being gay and any color other than pink — this would be a completely different level of fear.  (I am personally confounded by gay people voted for and are happy T won.  Do they not know what the Republican platform says about them?  What Pence wants to do to help them see the error of their ways?)

Today (Friday, 11/11) I have to say that I’ve come to see the immediate future, and its aftermath, as a fight is for the younger generation. Like those who denigrate unions, those who are a couple of generations removed from their union-member laboring grand-parents, those millennials who could not bother to vote, or who voted for Trump will be astonished what it’s like without today’s protections.

Unlike the 60s, we have role models to provide hands-on experience and guidance: Gloria Steinem (https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/nov/10/after-donald-trump-win-americans-organizing-us-politics).

Today, though, the fight is more than I can personally contemplate; whatever is “next” will be long and hard. And I wonder about the value of living at all. (I’m counting on that human trait of struggling for life.)

I do, personally, take some comfort in the words of Garrison Keillor: https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/trump-voters-will-not-like-what-happens-next/2016/11/09/e346ffc2-a67f-11e6-8fc0-7be8f848c492_story.html

I’m thinking about putting in a winter garden.

And, the identifying myself as an immediate support system for those in need: http://www.vox.com/presidential-election/2016/11/10/13586322/trump-brexit-safety-pin

Riding (for) 1/2 A Century

Monday, 29 June 2015

Yesterday I rode 50 miles on a bike as part of the LA Bicycle Coalition’s “LA River Ride”.  The whole process…ride out, stop for snacks at the 1/2-way point, ride back…probably took about 4:15.  Not the best 4 hours of my athletic life, and no where near the worst.

I have almost nothing interesting or enlightening to say about the experience except I got a bruise on the back of my right calf, where it goes into the knee joint.  While riding, I thought it was chafing and I could not imagine how/on what.  Apparently the repetitive smacking against the elastic on the bottom of my bike shorts caused the bruise.

I love cycling.  But today I don’t get the push to ride faster, faster, faster (and farther).  Yes, it’s true that the first time on a bike, when I was pushed to 12 mph, I was outraged, thinking “nobody needs to go this fast.  This is completely stupid.”  And now that’s my meandering speed.  So, maybe it’s the same thing.  I just don’t “get” it yet.

Why it is, do you suppose, that I’m drawn to these odd ball endurance events?  So few people do marathons, why have I done several?  I don’t know, but I suspect that even fewer people have ridden a bike super long distances (taking the general population into consideration).  Why is that appealing to me?

Thinking about activities in the coming months, cycling is going to be high on the list.  Strength climbing hills on a bike is definitely on my list.  So, I guess father is going to be on the list too.  I just don’t know about dramatically faster.

Where are my swimsuits?

25 June 2015

It’s been like well over a year since I wrote anything here.  And today I had two posts.

But this one is why I should keep up with news — for myself.

My swimsuits have disappeared.  I know I bought two different style suits about 2 years ago because I wrote about them.  I have no idea what happened to those suits.  So I just ordered exactly the same thing on Lands’ End.  And I was flipping back and forth between the post and the Lands End catalog page to find the suit that I really liked.

The picture above is of a relatively inexpensive swim suit ($35) that is butt ugly.  The picture below is of another relatively inexpensive suit that looks GREAT on but you cannot tell why in the picture and I cannot remember why.  I just remember writing about the difference in the two suits.

Apparently I’m getting ready to swim, again.

Clogging Down the Highway

Before I forget…a couple of months ago there was an article in the LA times about this woman/company who does custom fitting of clogs (worn, apparently by the rich, famous, and those on their feet all day).  This woman worked in LA for years then moved to Oregon and now returns to LA once a quarter (or twice a year, I forget which) and does fittings.  I jumped on the band wagon and sent an e-mail to get an appointment.

The fitting is free, the clogs are made by a company in Minnesota (?).  You only pay for the shoes, which start at $155/pair.

And to get to the fitting, you have to get a confirmed appointment to a particular address (a single door) in West LA.  You are admitted only if your name is on the list.  The woman is fitting 3 people at once.  She is talking about shoes, past clients, local foot doctors, etc. while 2 minions are bring clogs to the people being fitted.  She is telling people things about their feet (including insulting their shoe choices) while doing the fitting.  She had nothing negative to say about my Altra shoes — but the people wearing Sketchers and Crocs got an earful.  And she generally made negative comments about the every-day shoes people wear.  Since I wear a German-made shoe for “every day”, I didn’t get that line of lecture, either.

And, in the end, she said I had an easy foot to fit.  She suggested a size, I selected a color/style, and off I went.

Driving home I found myself wondering on two different points…

1.  Custom?

These are CUSTOM fitted shoes.  And yet, she forced people into matched pair.  What I mean is that she told me that my left foot is 1/2 size bigger than my right foot.  So one would think my shoes would be R-size X, and L-size X1/2.  But no.  My size is X (39).  She said I had a normal, easy to fit foot.

The woman sitting next to my has recently had ankle replacement surgery (whatever that means), and could NOT stand the pressure of the suggested size across the scar on her left foot.  I don’t know what happened to that woman, in the end, but while I was there the sizes/fit offered weren’t wearable.   Why bother to get a custom fitting if you’re going to be forced into a single size with single dimensions.

The clogs come on narrow, medium, and wide wood bases with small, regular, and large leather top pieces.  I cannot imagine why the manufacturer cannot reach into the 39 wide bin for a right and the 39 1/2 wide bin for a left, and put matching top pieces on them.

If these shoes revolutionize my feet, as they say they will, then who the heck cares what I have to say.

2.  Dollars

Everybody in the “shop” when I was there was a new customer.  (Probably 6 people in various stages of buying shoes.)  Of those 6 people, 5 of them bought multiple pair of clogs — having never worn them before — spending many hundreds of dollars.

Why would you spend that much on a thing you’ve never tested?

I bought one pair, black leather top on black wood sole.  If I like them, I can buy another pair.

Opposite Ends of the Season

Thursday, 30 October 2014

The WORST run of my training is the first one each season.  (Which doesn’t coincide with the start of any “official” training season.)  That run invariably is 3 miles around the Rose Bowl.  I run with a coach.  Which makes it doubly terrible because I’m embarrassing myself in front of someone who gets PAID to do this.  Usually I can’t run the whole three miles, we have to walk some.  And I have to stop to go to the bathroom during the run, usually twice.

The only thing that makes it bearable (and I’ve done this more than once) is that I know I will get better over time.

The BEST run of my training season is the last training run.  Usually the coach and I come around the last turn of the Rose Bowl, run across the street, and run with real strength across the parking lot to our parked cars.  I love that run across the parking lot.  It’s maybe 1/4 mile at the most.  But I’m so strong.  I’ve come so far.  I feel so good about life.  And it’s the one single run of the year that I’m really running with the coach (OK, not at his pace, but ‘way faster than usual).

I did that last run tonight, alone.  It was a GREAT run.  The first two miles appear to be slow on the Garmin, because I had to stop and take so many pictures of the amazingly gorgeous sunset.

But once I quit taking pictures the split times were great.  The whole bike path felt slightly downhill (which it is not).  I felt great.  I am sorry not to have shared this final run with the coach…it’s probably the best 5 minutes of the training season.  But, it was pretty great, nonetheless.

I’m running a 5k on Sunday.  And a marathon the following week.  BAM.

Cycling…6 Month Update

16 October 2014

Wow.  It’s been 6 months since my last post.  Guess I’ve been busy.  Or uninterested.

In the last six months, I’ve lifted weights (once a week), done yoga (after running on Saturdays), run (a ton), and ridden (ridden?) a fair bit.  Do I do anything else?  I don’t think so.  See (two different) nutritionists, each once a week.  Get a weekly massage.  See the foot guy every other week.  See the acupuncturist on the weeks I don’t see the foot guy.

I haven’t been swimming all summer.  In part, I think, because swimming in the late afternoon in the summer is like being in a toilet.  Literally.  Although I do like moving through the water.  Interesting to see if I swim more this winter.

I feel like my training regimen is remarkably limited…probably not.  Just what I feel.  What else could I be doing?  Spinning?  No, I don’t really like being indoors on a bike.  Mat pilates or yoga.  Maybe.  Yoga is super early on Saturday evenings (6 PM).  Mat pilates is super early on Sunday  mornings — which I’m probably not going to get up for in the winter.  Zumba (my coach, Mr. “I Don’t Dance” is taking Zumba).  Maybe, if at a convenient time.

But I am compelled to re-engage because Sunday I participated in the Long Beach Marathon Bike Tour.  My first cycling event.  It was surprizingly scary and hard.

Scary because it starts at 6 AM, in the complete dark (street lights and such are on).  And scary because there are like 3,000 riders — probably only 1,000 interacted with me — but there are people zooming past in the dark and on hairpin turns.

Hard because it was hard.  I rode with Michele (light years better that me) and Alicia (sound waves better than me).  They rode together and chatted while I followed closely behind (a lot of the way) and tried to keep up (the rest of the way).  About mile 11 of a 20-mile ride I fell significantly behind and had to really work to catch up.  About mile 17 they rode off and I finished up alone.  As I was riding along there at the end, I was thinking “this is not fun”.  There’s nothing fun about being buzzed on both sides by people MUCH faster/better than me or about riding in the dark on an unknown course with hairpin turns.  There was really not much fun in working so hard for an hour plus.  I’m not sure a bigger (longer) cycling event would be fun.

When I was changing clothes — from cycling gear to work gear for the rest of the day — my hair was soaked from the scalp to the dripping off the ends…12-15 inches of soaking wet.  (You don’t know you’re sweating on the bike like you do when running, because your clothes are wicking sweat away from the skin and the wind is drying it off.)

I really like cycling.  I’m clearly improving (from having never been on a bike, to riding 20+ miles clipped in).  But the work to get better — really?

Carlos Romero is one of my inspirations in life right now.  And he’s a dauntingly fabulous cyclist.  But there’s nothing appealing to me about this picture.  This is probably how he gets better.  But really.  Riding looking at a wall (maybe listening to music, I cannot tell — I could be listening to an audio book), with a fan blowing on you, feet a blur.  (Fire extinguisher ready in case his feet catch fire.)  Doesn’t look like fun to me.

On the other hand, I am voluntarily going to run 5 hours this weekend.  Most people cannot imagine doing that.  I cannot imagine doing it.  I just do it.

As my “A” race approaches (French Riviera Marathon — Nice to Caan (France) on November 9th), I am peaking and getting ready to taper.  I am grateful for the generous support from the universe — a great number of people have contributed to my success this season.  Without naming all those peep (because I’ll forget someone) let me just say a heartfelt THANK YOU.  I am humbled.

Picture of three Asian girls.  The Asians look for me for this picture.  (I do crack myself up.)

Picture of an amazing work team.  I am extraordinarily lucky.