Fail: #37 - Run 100 Miles

July 18, 2015

I just realized that I'm 32.5 miles into this goal, so I should probably at least start the post.  Most of the miles have been uneventful other than being all around the very beautiful areas of Golden Hill, South Park, North Park, and downtown San Diego.  I feel so lucky to be surrounded by so many beautiful trails.  I feel unlucky having so many back problems this year.  I would definitely be running more if it weren't for my lower back acting up... and for all the hills.  Since I live in Golden Hill, I live ON a hill, which means that no matter which direction I run, I finish up a very large hill.  Sometimes that deters me and I just do another work out instead.  Plus I've been trying to play beach volleyball, surf, hike, and sail as much as possible lately, telling myself I can run in any city, but those are things I probably won't be able to do, at least not year round, once I move.  But, maybe just starting this post will keep me a little more on top of my running.

It's not that I'm not fitting in a lot of work outs, it's that when I run, I just feel better.  I work a lot of things out mentally and emotionally when I run, so encouraging myself to lace up my running shoes more often is something I should do for myself more often.  Plus, when I run fast regularly, I tend to get in pretty decent shape, which makes all of those other activities way more fun.

So far, I've mostly done solo runs.  The only exception was the Black Light Run 5k that I did with Vanessa Vadnal and Matthew Savage.  I don't do many 5k's because they've gotten so expensive, and if I run decently, I feel like I haven't even fit in a full workout for the day because I've only been active 30-45 minutes.  But, Vanessa was heads up and found a cheap entry.  I like running with her because, honestly, I haven't run an entire race, of any length, in years, but I do when I'm running with V.  

The race itself wasn't organized all that well, especially since we were just zig zagging through the Qualcomm parking lot, but it was fun to run at night, with lights and glowing things and that colored powder that seems to be so popular lately.  We stayed for quite awhile after the race dancing to the DJ and throwing powder in the air.  Thanks for keeping me in the loop for it, V!

Thursday, October 1

I wanted to mention this run because I felt fast.  It's been a stressful past week, and it was nice to get all of those emotions burned up through a quick run.

Thursday, December 31

I didn't quite make it this year.  I put in some miles on the treadmill while in Michigan staying with Mom & Dad, but I ended somewhere around 70 miles.  I'm not counting hiking miles and I estimated all of my runs, but it looks like I need to repeat this goal next year and keep up this running routine I finally picked up again.

#35 - Read 3 Books from the Top 100 of the 20th Century List

I've been an avid reader since I can remember, and I am particularly drawn towards anything that one might place in the "literature" catetory... as well as popular series such as Harry Potter and The Hunger Games.  I put this item on the list every year and have yet to complete it, but after I posted about the 30 books I read last year and the lack of "literature," I made a concerted effort to read some literary works this year.

I don't remember when I first saw the Modern Library's Top 100 Novels list, but I remember wanting to read all of it.  I have no regrets from the 18 books from the list I had read prior to this year: there are books I'd call favorites (Slaughterhouse-Five, A Cather in the Rye, Brave New World, Catch-22, Invisible Man, Lord of the Flies) and books I'd call overrated (The Great Gatsby, The Grapes of Wrath, A Farewell to Arms).  A few of the favorites I've read multiple times.  The less appreciated novels, I've at least been able to contribute my knowledge in trivia or literary conversations, where I can't hold my tongue about my issues with the story or the characters or the writing or the ending.

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#63 - Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
6/23/15

This year, when I was having a rough period, I reread A Catcher in the Rye for probably the fourth or fifth time.  While rereading novels from the list was not what I had in mind when I wrote the item, rereading as opposed to first-time reading still fits the description, and I certainly have some thoughts and feelings about the book that might be good for me to put into writing.

I tend to read A Catcher in the Rye when I'm feeling lonely and out of touch with my authentic self.  I suppose it's a strange choice for that as Holden Caulfield spends so much of the story alone, craving connection, missing it, and lamenting about all of the "phonies" in the world.  The few days of Caulfield's life that Salinger chooses to describe are sad, lonely, and fraught with uncertainty.  Yet, Caulfield, as a character, knows exactly what he connects to and what he does not, and he finds connection again with his younger sister, even if that connection is not easy nor permanent.

Caulfield's journey reminds me of my love of wandering, of the city, of all of the curious people there are in the world.  It reminds me that there are moments of real connection and moments of missing that connection.  It reminds me to wear what I want to wear, be nostalgic, be curious, explore, wander, connect, and to move on.

#24 - Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson
12/26/15

I didn't get this book.  I still read through it quickly.  I found it interesting enough.  But I also just read a Wikipedia entry on it, and clearly, I missed the point.  I certainly understood that I was reading through short stories on various characters in a small town in Ohio and that some of the characters appeared in each other's stories, but I had no idea that time passed and I was watching at least one of the characters grow up.  Oops.  That's not a spoiler.  That's apparently something very obvious and important to the narrative that I missed.

Aren't books funny that way?  I usually need to read a book at least twice to really get the nuances because I'm not a visual learner.  Yet, I love to read.  And some books, even when I miss some of the nuance, are so beautiful and haunting that they affect me deeply.  And then some, even when highly regarded, I completely misunderstand.  Like this one.  How did I miss that there was a passage of time?  I even read it over a couple weeks, so it wasn't like I had taken months and forgotten everything.  I suppose it's one of those 20th century novels about white, small town, American life that seem so depressing and isolated yet generic, where I want to scream at every character to be brave and see the world outside their sad town.  Stories where the characters seem stuck in a sad situation are the scariest stories.

#80 - Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
12/27/15

This story is slow, haunting, and lovely.  It comes full circle in an unexpected and beautiful way.  Finding oneself unrelentingly tied to a beautiful place filled with smart, complicated, familiar people who could be family... it's a feeling I understand.  As I neared the end, I was sad, nostalgic, and felt as if Waugh gives us all permission to move on even when we can't let go.  That's all I really have to say about it only 24 hours after finishing it.

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I look forward to next year and reading more books off this list.  Suggestions welcome!

Fall 2014: #87 - Run 200 Miles

As a follow up from the last post, I needed to tag at least one more person.

Fail 2014: #37 - Run 200 Miles

I ran somewhere between 10-15 miles with the support of Van 2.  Van2islife.

I've been cleaning up my blog and realized that although in 2014 I came no where near close to running 200 miles, I did run quite a bit.  Many of those miles were with Van 2, and they deserve some credit for that.

I also ran 13.1 miles with a super fun group of Michiganders in DC, and they should get that credit too.


Plus, VV won us entries into the Cowboy Run, and she stuck with me at my slow pace the entire 3.1.  Also, that race was weird.

I should also probably give my parents credit for all of the miles I put in on their treadmill.  I should probably own a treadmill.  When it's there, I use it.

#43 - Snorkel Somewhere New

My first Hawaiian snorkel lasted about 3-5 minutes.  We bought a $35 4-hour water sports pass at the beach near the Marriott in Waikoloa on the Big Island.  I did a bit of SUPing with my dad and sister in law.  3 of the 5 Krones then decided to go on a glass bottom boat ride, something I've always wanted to do, but I was pretty sure with the current conditions I'd get nauseous, so I opted out.  Instead, I borrowed my brother's snorkel to see if I could find some creatures.  I swam out a bit, saw a fish or two, started to feel nauseous in the cloudy water with rolling waves, so I swam back in.

I had a better experience in the lagoon at the Hilton Waikoloa a few days later.  My mom let me borrow her newly acquired snorkel and fins, which she bought on the trip because she's now an avid snorkler.  The water is so protected that it's incredibly calm and clear.  It was a bit cloudier than usual due to the wind, but my brother & I managed to see lots of angel fish, parrot fish, trumpet fish, an eel, and lots of other fish I can't name.  I was hoping for a turtle, but I only managed to spot them swimming from the land, from a stand up paddle board, and while swimming at a beach just south of Kona.  Sea turtles really aren't rare on the Big Island, but I wasn't lucky enough to see one while snorkeling.  We didn't stay out too long because there were weird really cold currents running through the lagoon, and without my rash guard, I was cold, so we went to find a hot tub.  Real adventurers, us.

My brother had a much more impressive snorkeling experience while I was surfing at Kahalu'u Beach Park complete with a sea turtle, a barracuda, and some other creatures that I was doing my best not to touch unintentionally, as instructed.  The clear, warm water on the west side of the Big Island apparently makes for spectacularly good snorkeling, and I wish I had gone more but my motion sickness and fear of seeing large animals kept me more often above the water as opposed to in it.

#4 - Get Another Tattoo

<<Sorry, Mom.>>

Growing up, my first memory of tattoos is of reading Wayside School Is Falling Down where a character gets a tattoo of a potato on their big toe.  Ever since then, the question, "If you were going to get a tattoo, what would you get and where?" fascinates me.

I would ask my friends.  My family.  My boyfriends.  Choosing a symbol that you could commit to, and the placement of that symbol, can say so much about a person.

(Side note: Throughout this phase of thinking about tattoos, I lived in Michigan, where the question really was usually "IF..."  Now, living in California, asking about tattoos usually launches you in a very deep, personal conversation, even with strangers.  I'm still in awe of how common they are out here.)

It would infuriate me when people close to me wouldn't answer the question.  When someone would say, "I wouldn't get one," I would insist: "But if you HAD to get one, what would it be... and where?  ... No, but if you HAD to!"

The funny part of that conversation was that I didn't know myself what I would get or where.  Maybe that's why I was so curious.  I would think long and hard and then I would always have the same answer: "I could never get a tattoo because there's nothing in existence that I will always like forever."  Therefore, tattoos weren't for me.

But then one day, in my 30's, I thought, "Oh, except sharks.  I will always love sharks."  That thought was quickly followed by, "Oh, well, then I guess I should get a tattoo of a shark."

I spent a couple years thinking about the tattoo, where I would get it, and researching designs online.  One day, I found THE design.  I decided I would get it on my right side, on my upper ribs.  I then researched parlors in Chicago, where I lived at the time, decided on a place where I knew a couple people really liked.  I looked online, found an artist, and contacted her.  She responded.  I chickened out.

Soon after, in 2012, my cousin Brandon died by suicide.  Two days later, I had a dream that I got a tattoo of a red heart, with a black outline, on my right wrist.  The design had some kind of strong, black, swirly lines coming from it, but it didn't seem finished.  In my dream, I associated that tattoo with Brandon, and there was additional meaning I could not yet name.  It had a feeling of being raw, honest, open, of exposing love and pain, of wearing my heart on my sleeve.  At the time, I was completely uncomfortable talking about my emotions or appearing "emotional," but at this moment in my life, I realized how important it can be for the world to show and witness real emotions.

I told myself that once I got my shark tattoo, after a year, if I still wanted the heart, I would get it.  But the heart on its own didn't feel right.  I am not a heart person.  Or a color red person.  Neither fit my style or personality.  Yet.

I moved to San Diego in August 2012.  Here, EVERYONE has a tattoo.  Well, it seems like it anyways.  And they're awesome.  And beautiful.

By May, I had found 2 classmates who also wanted to get tattoos.  Tara wanted to build on an existing tattoo and Grace already had several tattoos and wanted to start a large back tattoo to physically mark her growth through our doctoral program.

We searched online for tattoo parlors, but there are so many here that going in person to visit seemed like a better bet.  One Sunday afternoon, I was quite hungover, and Tara called me to see if I wanted to walk the tattoo parlors in her neighborhood (South Park).  (There is such a demand for tattoos in San Diego that there are multiple reputable parlors in most neighborhoods.)

We went to Full Circle first.  A woman greeted us, told us to peruse the artists' books, and then told us that James had a cancellation and could fit us in.  Right then.  Now.

I was not prepared for that.  But then I thought, and probably said, "You know?  If I don't just do it now, when am I going to do it?  Why not now?"

So Tara described her design to James, I e-mailed mine from my phone, and we went to get tea while he sketched them out.  Then got tatted up.  (The full story here.)

I had the shark tattooed on my left ribs because my heart tattoo in my dream was on my right wrist.  While I am not a person of symmetry, I am a person of balance.  I also got my left tragus (ear) pierced in 2014 and did that on my left side as well, knowing it would help balance the tattoo I had yet to get on my right wrist.

I've had my shark tattoo for over two and a half years now.  I love it.  I look at it often.  Admire it.  Show it off whenever I can, any excuse.  I buy clothes that might show hints of it.  When people ask about tattoos, I pull up my shirt to show them, even though I put it in that spot precisely because not many people would see it.

In January 2014, I went with a class to Sri Lanka.  When I signed up for the course, I didn't even know where Sri Lanka was.  I just knew that if I needed to take a class for my international requirement, I was going to go somewhere I would never, ever chose to go on my own.

After signing up, I learned a bit more about Sri Lanka.  I became fascinated by Buddhism, one of the more prominent religions in Sri Lanka.  I read (most of) several books about Buddhism and meditation (some required some not) before traveling.

I was most fascinated by the concept of Metta: loving-kindness.  The best way I can describe Metta is that it is a deep, authentic love for everything and everyone, including oneself.  In a Metta meditation, one often conjures the love they know they have, the type of love that come easy: love for one's family, close friends, mentors...  Then, one channels that love into themselves, loving themselves so that they can better love their loved ones.  Then, one channels that love onto others, the earth, strangers, enemies.  The idea is that if we love everything more, inside and outside of ourselves, we'll be kinder, to others and ourselves, and kindness makes the world a better place.  And then eventually, we accept that we are all the same, we are love, and love is everything, and we lose our attachment to the world, including our loved ones.  We don't love them in particular because they are us and we are all part of the same whole, so there's no reason to love one part of it more than another.  Everything is already a part of us and we are a part of everything.

Well, that's how I think of Metta, and that is what was sitting with me when we arrived.  Within 24 hours, we were told that a Buddhist monk from Malaysia would be leading a children's meditation in the Peace Center we were visiting.  We were told to go by at that time, not to tell we were sent, but to see if we would be invited into the meditation.

During that meditation, the monk led us through a Metta meditation.  He had us conjure our parents, our teachers, ourselves, each in turn, and to wish them to be well and happy.  In my head, I saw myself holding each person close, embracing them with all of my love, and then releasing them so they could bound off to be well, happy, and fulfill their purposes in life, regardless of whether that purpose included me.

But then my mind drifted.  I thought of my cousin.  I thought of my aunt and uncle.  I thought of how maybe they could accept that Brandon was a part of them that is no longer here and yet is here forever.  That they could maybe let go, knowing that.  But then I thought of what else Metta implied.  And it implied that to achieve Nirvana, they would also need to let go of each other and everyone else, and that thought caused me pain.  It made me think of how Brandon exists in me, how his life represents parts of my life, his death represents the parts of me that cause me pain, intentionally, even though I know I am capable of so much good.  And strangely, I thought of how it might be easier to let go of our parents and children, accepting they are part of us, but how impossible it seemed to let go of someone you chose to love, a partner.  I wondered how it could be possible to choose someone in love and then to accept that love so much you let them go.  And I wondered how that could possibly be kind.

Soon after, I told my trip roommate Maria that I couldn't stay present in the meditation and instead drifted to some heavy things.  A couple nights later, I sobbed and told my roommate Maria all of this in our hotel room.  This is the first time I've spoken of all of it since then.

During that meditation, tears streamed down my face, but I also had a vision.  I saw on my wrist, a red heart with a black outline and wings.  I saw it as a symbol of Metta.  I saw a light, open heart that loves and is kind no matter what.

I told my friend Allie that I was embarrassed that during a CHILDREN'S meditation, I cried, had a vision, and I wondered if the wings were the unfinished part of the tattoo I had seen in my dream.  She said, "You mean like the necklace you've been wearing the whole time?"

I bought my heart-with-wings Boma necklace in 2010 while visiting San Diego.  A few months later I lost it.  When I moved to San Diego, I went back to the same shop, and they didn't have it anymore but told me I could find it online, which I did.  I wore it all the time.  It was the only jewelry I wore in Sri Lanka.

Despite my disdain for the color red, it was important the heart was red because the heart needed to be full.  Despite my anxiety at having a visible tattoo, it had to be visible because of the pressure I imagined for myself to hide my emotions.  Despite my indifference to the symbols of hearts and wings years before, I wore them and dreamed of them until I could one day name the meaning they held for me.

Still, I waited.  I was too nervous to get a visible tattoo.

While we were in Sri Lanka, two monks (including the one who had led the children's meditation) had tied strings with blessings onto our wrists.  I told myself that once they fell off, I would get my tattoo.

They had been getting strained, and about three weeks ago, I snagged them on a piece of my desk at home and they snapped off.  I knew it was time, even more so because I kept moving the absent strings, like I did in the almost 2 years I had them, out of the way when I typed or washed my hands.  I felt like I was missing something that had become part of me.

I had been searching artists, already feeling it was near time.  Because the tattoo would be so small and artists tend to post mostly their larger work online, I searched artists that had feminine work.  The artist I wanted had a 6+ month waiting list.  She was at Full Circle, where I got my first tattoo done.  I stopped there one afternoon.  They told me any artist there could do it and asked me to look through the books.  I found Michelle's book and loved her feminine work.  When I looked up reviews of the studio on line, I found a lot of positive posts and beautiful pictures of her clean, feminine, symmetrical work.  I made an appointment and put down a deposit.

The day before, I had a stressful day.  I then had a minor freak out about what I was doing.  I couldn't believe I was going to get a very visible tattoo.  I told myself I had to look for a job soon and I questioned whether it could negatively impact my job search.

Then I called Grace, who had her tattoo appointment the following day to build on the back tattoo she had been getting since our first year.  She completely calmed me.  In our conversation I was able to step outside myself and realize that I was questioning something I wanted because I was afraid of what the world MIGHT think of me sometime in the future.  I reminded myself that I didn't do things (or not do them) because of what people think.  I wanted to be the person who is authentic, loving, kind, and brave enough to put those things into the world visibly and confidently.  The message this tattoo carried was important to me.  I would greet the world with kindness.  I would be kind to myself.  I would see it as a reminder to be mindful, loving, and kind in all of my actions.

I sent Michelle photos I had found online near to what I wanted but I hadn't seen the design yet (part of what fueled my anxiety).  When I went to my appointment, she had a sketch prepared that was really strikingly beautiful... but not what I wanted.  She patiently listened to my alterations and within 20 minutes brought out the perfect design.


I am so grateful and thankful that my friend Mariko Peshon asked to be there and actually rearranged her schedule to be with me.  It meant so much to me that she showed up to be there for something that held so much meaning for me.  Plus, I was nervous, and I had talked about my tattoo often enough, that hearing her confirm my thoughts on design and size made me smile and realize how happy I was in the moment.

Michelle was quick, but more importantly, did beautiful work.  The tattoo is incredibly clean and appears so symmetrical that it takes close examination to see any flaw at all, despite its small size.  Everyone I've shown it to remarks that it's beautiful and/or very clean, even Grace's tattoo artist this morning who was preparing to do his third addition to her back tattoo.

Already it's reminded me to respond with love and kindness even when my initial reactions do not contain either.

I also feel balanced.  My shark -- my toughness, my focus, my depth, my lack of emotion -- on one side of me and my heart with wings -- my softness, my openness, my sensitivity, my love, my kindness, my hurt -- on the other.  Balance without symmetry.  Love.

Fail 2014: #87 - Visit 3 New Museums

Today I was cleaning up my blog and went through the drafts folder.  I found this.  I guess 2014 was not a good year for museums and me, but I did go to one, and the lovely women who went with me certainly deserve a shout out for yet another adventure in Sri Lanka that was actually on the 2014 list.

1 - The Sarvodaya Museum in Moratuwa, Sri Lanka

My hero Chula, who saved me from the biggest spider I have ever seen not in a zoo, asked to take us to the small museum dedicated to Sarvodaya and Dr. Ariyaratne at the Vishva Niketan International Peace Centre in Moratuwa.  It was a brief visit but a lovely place dedicated to peace and community building.  I highly recommend it if you ever find yourself at the beautiful peace center, which I highly recommend if you ever find yourself in Moratuwa, which I recommend if you ever find yourself in Colombo, which is the largest city in the beautiful country of Sri Lanka.



Museums 2 & 3 didn't happen in 2014, but I'll keep this list item every year because it's brought me to some cool places.

#18 - Don't Drink for 3 Weeks

I don't have photos of me not drinking, except for those of me
surfing, so instead, included here are all of the rebuttals to my
internal message that life is rough, and I should probably have
a drink after a tough day, which is every day.  I live here.  I get
to do really fun things regularly.  Having a drink is fine, but I
definitely need to stop using my "situation" as a reason to drink.
This is my situation.  Like, literally.  This is my neighborhood
(Golden Hill), and it's this beautiful often.

In 2011, I took a week off drinking, which wasn't that tough.  I likely would have been if it hadn't been for the list support from a friend who didn't drink, so we were off doing other fun things, like fishing.  Yes, you can fish sober.  If you're with the right people, it's still fun.  I mean it.  No.  Really.

Then, I had 'don't drink for..." items on the list for 3 years (2012, 2013, 2014) before I accomplished the next one, which was for 2 weeks, in 2014.  Really, the only reason I managed it was because I went to Sri Lanka for almost 2 weeks for a class, and none of us made a point to order a drink on any of the few occasions we could have.  Sri Lanka is a largely Buddhist (and Hindu and Muslim and Christian) country, so there weren't that many opportunities to drink even if we'd wanted to.  (There was no wine available after I saw the spider the size of my hand because I could have used some juice to get myself to sleep that night.)

This is a real life sunset from this year.
I mean, wow.

One of many beautiful sunsets
playing beach volleyball in OB
this summer.

Because I managed 2 weeks last year, I upped the ante to 3 weeks this year.  I honestly didn't think I'd do it.  There were a few chunks of time in my calendar that it seemed feasible, but then I'd have a rough day and want a glass of wine, or a friend would call and ask if I wanted to go get a drink, and I did.  Once the fall hit, between football season, Thanksgiving in Hawaii with my parents, and then winter break back in Ann Arbor, I figured there's no way 3 whole weeks would happen.

Then, one Thursday night, I was out drinking with some friends, and after some fun and some heart to hearts, things got suddenly, intensely emotional.  I wasn't expecting it.  And I was frustrated that I wasn't fully there.  And I got a rocking headache that lasted probably 24 hours.  I had to call in sick the next morning it was so bad.  It was definitely a stress headache, but the booze I'd consumed earlier that night certainly didn't help.  My body felt completely dehydrated from alcohol, sweat, and tears, and I'd been too out of it to rehydrate before bed.

Over the past few months, I've been studying Buddhism a bit.  Buddhism prohibits drinking alcohol or partaking in other mind-altering substances because in Buddhism, it's incredibly important to remain present, and one cannot remain present under the influence.  I've always seen this as just one of the reasons I could not actually be Buddhist, despite my attraction to much of the religion,which is despite my aversion to all religion.  Being in the moment and being unable to be fully present and connect with my own emotions, I wondered what life would be like if I did stop drinking and committed to being present with myself.  (Here's a link to a really basic, wonderful book about mindfulness and Buddhism.)

Our backdrop for Big Ten kickball one night was incredible.

I still didn't intend to complete this list item, but suddenly, I didn't crave alcohol like I often do.  I have a real fondness for both wine and whiskey, but, more than that, I had developed a habit of a night cap or two most nights, especially after a stressful day.  I noticed I convinced myself I deserved a drink every day, even though I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth, I get to do amazing things I enjoy nearly every day, and I'm pursuing stressful but exciting life goals in my doctoral work.  I was not so stressed that I needed a drink every night.  I certainly didn't need several drinks yet I found ways to justify those too.

The 3 weeks went by surprisingly quickly.  Only once do I remember being tempted to drink, but it happened when I was at work and the bartenders were making some interesting cocktails, and I wanted to try them.  Luckily, I was at work, and I'm not allowed to sample the cocktails, so it wasn't too tough to resist.  More than once during the 3 weeks I was with friends who were drinking and I easily said no.  I'm still a bit shocked at how easy it was.

I helped start the University of Michigan Club of San Diego Hiking Group.
One morning we hiked down to Cedar Creek falls.
A few of us braved the freezing water to swim in this beautiful... water hole?
I don't know what to call it.  Natural pool?
Whatever, that's VV and me nonchalantly posing for the camera after swimming across the icy water.

This is where I work.

For a few days, when I got to the point of the night when I'd usually pour myself a drink, I poured myself a fancy soda, a coconut water, or some tea.  Generally my body wanted something sweet, and the corner store just 3 doors down now carries those tiny bottles of Original New York Seltzer.  I'm not a big soda drinker in general, so usually half a pint was plenty to relieve the craving.

The ease of stopping was the best part of these 3 weeks.  I've been a little worried that I would be unable to stop drinking.  When I lived in Chicago, I developed quick a drinking habit.  I would regularly polish off a bottle of wine by myself or go through a decent portion of a bottle of Jack.  I drank often and a lot.  (Lesson learned: don't continuously try to impress rugby players with your amazing drinking abilities.  Never ever has this been worth it.)  The habit has continued during my life in California.  I drink as often but not as much in a day, on my light or heavy days.  I still wasn't sure if I would be able to stop on my own.  I'm relieved that I could.

One of the beautiful views at Torrey Pines State Park

This is where I go to school.

The worst part of completing these 3 weeks is that I don't feel much different.  I really expected to feel healthier and lighter in spirit.  I've also been working out very regularly and upping my intensity, so I expected to feel fitter, stronger.  I expected to sleep better.  Honestly, none of those things happened.  I may be slightly fitter but it feels like that is entirely due to my workout "routine" (which is anything but routine).

It's been almost a week since I completed this list item, and I've only had one day of drinking that centered around college football.  I hope this 3 week period slowed down the work my liver has had to do these past few years.  I still have yet to feel the evidence of actually being healthier for stopping drinking, but I'm hopeful it'll show up soon.


Cheers!

#46 - Surf at Least 12 Times

Way back in 2011, when I first started this list endeavor, I had as an item: "Surf... for More Than One Second."  I'm not sure what I accomplished on a board counted for more than one second, but it was real surfing on the ocean, so I counted it.  That was on a visit to San Diego.  Now that I live here, I own a surfboard and a wetsuit.  I have constant access to the ocean.  I enjoy surfing despite my lack of natural talent and skill.  Yet, I rarely went.  I wanted to change that.  So I added "Surf at Least 12 Times" to my list this year.

My list is partly about trying new things, but it's also about doing things I've always wanted to do... or at least have spent some time wanting to do.  I would love to be a surfer.  My next step is making actual time in my day for surfing and going regularly.  Writing this goal down on my list worked swimmingly.  (Yay puns!)

1 - Monday, June 28
I don't know how much time I have left in San Diego, so I decided to max out all of my San Diego activities.  I put a few on this list.  That wasn't good enough, so I put them on my to do lists.  That worked a bit, but I still wanted to do more, so I planned my workouts, at least for the summer.  Sunday: beach volleyball; Monday: surf; Tuesday: yoga; Wednesday: more beach volleyball (that's my sport); Thursday: swim; Friday: hike; Saturday: run.  Beach volleyball and yoga have been in the plan.  I started swimming last week.  This week I would start surfing and hiking once a week.  I got up on Monday, dragged my board, wetsuit, and towel to the car, and headed to Ocean Beach.  I suited up and headed into the water at dog beach.  I waded out at low tide.  My first wave, I just rode lying on my stomach to just enjoy the moment and remember just how fast a wave can take me.  I headed back out and just missed a few good ones.  Then I hit one and just couldn't get going.  When I slowed, I looked down and saw a huge thing under my board.  I inwardly panicked a bit, even though I was only 4 or so feet deep.  Then I realized the thing was white.  Then I realized it was part of my board.  Then I realized my board was busted, the whole front bottom of the fiberglass peeled back.  It had only been 10-15 minutes, so I half-heartedly tried to catch another wave, but there was so much drag there was no chance.  And I stepped on something squishy that swam away from under my foot.  So I went in.  I'm trying to think of a way to get a new board, but I'm so broke, that I'm not sure it will happen.  I'm so bummed that my board busted right after I acted on my weekly surfing plan.

2 - Monday, July 13
I was hanging out with my buddy Erin Gillespie on Friday night and told her the tragedy of my board.  She offered to let me use her extra board.  In fact, she said, I could just hold on to it for now because she only used it when taking a friend surfing, and they always had to at least rent a wetsuit anyways, so if I was going to use it...  So kind.  So Monday morning, I checked Surfline, picked up Erin's extra board, and headed to OB to continue my Monday morning surfing "routine."  I went for the dog beach again because of the proximity to the lifeguards.  I rode one wave to get the feel and then headed back out again.  On my way out, I stepped on something that moved from beneath my foot.  I convinced myself it was just sand.  I managed to kneel consistently and stand at the end of one wave.  But then I stepped on something else, and I swear it was squishy.  This time I convinced myself it was seaweed.  Then I stepped on something else that was squishy and, I swear, swam out from under my foot.  I told myself I was fine, there was no point in worrying about something that wasn't hurting me, but I decided to swim instead of walk out.  Which meant I only caught small, broken waves because I was too exhausted from all of that swimming.  I stayed out as long as I promised myself I would because I decided, in that moment, that I didn't want to be afraid of surfing, especially when the scariest thing so far had been squishy things, which were probably not stingrays because it's dog beach, and it would be stupid to have a dog beach in a spot with that many stingrays that I stepped on 3 in 30 minutes.... 3 that didn't sting me.  However, I think I'm going to try the pier side of OB next week, just to shake that squishy fear.

3 - Monday, July 27
I missed a week due to rain.  We don't surf here in San Diego after a rainstorm due to water pollution and risk of infection.  I got back out there the week after though.  This time I went to the pier in Ocean Beach, which is where I took my swim lesson.  There are plusses and minuses to this location.  I like the waves better, but there's a strong undertow, so it can be exhausting to walk in the shallows.  There are also a ton of surf lessons going on, especially with kids, so I feel safer, but there are also way more people to avoid, people like me who don't know what they're doing.  I managed to stand once, but I didn't have a ton of time, so I didn't get my flow going.

4 - Monday, August 3
Back to the dog beach this week to overcome my fear of the squishy things.  I have decided it's just sand moving beneath my feet with the tide and the undertow.  I was a little braver this week but the waves were small.  I can consistently catch a wave and kneel but by the time I get my feet under me, the wave has petered out, and I just hop off.

5 - Friday, August 14
Today I had my surfing buddy Tara Edberg back.  We went to the OB pier, where it was crowded, but the waves were decent.  I found myself catching faster, deeper waves, probably because I was a bit braver with a buddy to distract me.  I need to get just a bit braver and faster because even though I was deeper and had longer to ride the wave, I was so concerned with balancing before standing that I still wasn't standing until the wave was dying out.  Next goal: stand up quick when I catch a good one and just fall if I fall.

6 - Friday, August 21
I tried out a new spot today: South Mission Beach.  It's more a spot for beach volleyballers than surfers, but since it has a huge parking lot, and I was going in the evening, I thought I'd try it out.  The waves were tiny but somehow I got up consistently and had the longest rides I'd ever had.

7 - Thursday, August 27
I met Kai & Tara in Mission Beach for a late afternoon surf.  The waves were rolling and tough to ride, but the dolphins playing all around us more than made up for the bad surfing.  It was a beautiful afternoon, and Kai & I stayed until sunset, chatting and having photo shoots.  She even made a collage of all the sweet shots of the day.

8 - Thursday, September 2

Waves weren't great today.  I floated around and got up a couple times, but dog beach was a choppy mess.

9 - Friday, September 18

Things started well at South Mission Beach, but then the ocean got ROUGH.  I tried to stay where I could still touch, but the undertows kept changing the depth of the sand, and the waves were coming from multiple directions and were at multiple heights, so every now and then I'd be walking in waist deep water, hit a deep spot where I couldn't touch, and, hanging onto my surfboard tightly, would brace for a 3-4 foot wave to come crashing down on me.  I still managed to get up a few times, but the waves were so scattered and there were so many swimmers now that summer is over and there aren't as many surfing-only-area regulations, so I had a rough go today.  Still, any day getting beat up by the ocean is a good day.

10 - Thursday, October 1

Today was my best day of surfing yet.  I stood up at least 10 times.  I probably would have fit in more rides but there was a line of even-more-beginner surfers just a bit shallower than me, who, I swear, were doing their best to block me from any waves.  It felt like every time a good wave would come, I'd check to see if there was anyone in my way, and there were like 4 people in my way, with boards parallel to the shore, like a defensive line.  I immediately felt guilty for every surfer I've blocked because, dang, it's so hard to get out of the way when you don't know how.

Then, sadly, I had to return the board I've been using because it's owner moved back to the coast and wants to use it.  I've grown to love my weekly surfing excursions, and I still have 2 more rides to complete this item, so I hope I can figure something out!

11 - Thursday, October 8

It hasn't even been a week, and 2 nights ago, after finding nothing on Craig's List, I was on Yelp, searching for surf shops that had high ratings and mentions of used boards.  I found quite a few.  But then yesterday, I was in Linda Vista for a meeting at USD with my dissertation chair, so I stopped in Bird's Surf Shed.

The owner's son, Jackson, listened to my experience and heard that I was looking for something a step up from a foam board but still inexpensive.  He showed me a few boards but told me that a Torq would be a good next step for me.  They were in the $400 range, which is very reasonable for a surfboard; they increase in price with size, and the bigger the board, the easier it is.  The foam board I'd be using was an 8'.  He then showed me a 6'10" "used" Torq that was only $350 and didn't look used at all.  I told him I'd picked up some extra shifts at work, and I'd mull it over.  Before I left, he brought me to the back, pulled up a beat-up, foam-top, 6'6" Torq.  He told me it was a demo board and that I could take it out to see how I liked the style.  Like, could just try it before buying anything.  AWESOME.

I took it out today (the next day) and had a blast.  I only got up once, but after 30 or so minutes, I was getting the feel of it.  I kept riding too far back because I was used to seeing a lot more board in front of me, but I knew that's what I was doing and was adjusting well.

I lied in the sun for a bit then went back to Bird's.  Jackson chatted with me a little longer, and then, on request, left me along in the aisle to think.  I mulled over a few options, but my choice eventually came down to 1) working a lot of extra shifts at my 2nd and 3rd jobs and coming back to buy a new board over 7' or 2) buying the 6'10" used board for $150 less.  I decided the used board would be a smarter grad-student decision, though buying a board at all was a stupid grad-student decision.

As Jackson took me to check out, someone told him to check on the status of the board, and I was nervous for a hot second that the board had already been sold.  It turns out someone had called about it 10 minutes prior to come look at it.  But, since I was there ready to buy, the board was mine.  One of the staff put on the fins and polished it up for me while Jackson helped me pick a leash, got me some wax and a t-shirt, and rung me up.

I have a new board.

12 - Sunday, October 11

Friday and Saturday were so packed with work that I had to wait until today to take out my new board.  I drove down the coast after a Torrey Pines hike and lunch in Encinitas with camp friends.  I stopped at South Mission Beach because there's easy parking there, even on a weekend.

And we lived happily ever after

The waves were huge.  The board (nickname: Bae) was fantastic.  I had a great time.  It's definitely going to take some getting used to, but I was already getting up.  I stuck to the white water because the waves were around 5 feet, which is a bit above my experience, but with waves that big, I got some decent rides.

It's funny.  I wrote this list item to get myself to surf more often, and somehow this 12-installment story had some twists and turns and has a happy ending.

13 - Monday, October 12 (Epilogue)

I don't know that I'll update every time I get out to surf, but this is the first time I've ever done 2 days in a row.  I love my new board, and my arms are exhausted.

?? - Friday, November 21

I have surfed several times in between these posts (with a break because of my tattoo), but I wanted to give credit to my family for going to the "beach" I wanted to visit so I could attempt to surf in Hawaii.  The surfing itself didn't go so well.  The surf report only had 1-2 foot waves, but I figured I'd catch a few baby ones just to say I
 surf in Hawaii.  My dad rented me a board at a friendly shop near Kahalu'u Beach Park.  There, I learned that the bottom is incredibly rocky, full of coral, and swarming with creatures, not all friendly.  Getting to the break requires walking carefully (read: awkwardly stumbling over lava rock of deceptively varying heights) out until at least consistently waist-deep water so as not to damage the board on the rocks, then swimming a good 250 yards to the break against the waves.  I was instructed to belly flop whenever falling off in order to avoid the dangerous bottom.  Slightly different conditions than wading into the soft, beachy sands that I'm used to and taking breaks in waist deep water whenever I feel like it.  By the time I got out there, I was exhausted.  Then, the break was itty bitty.  Being a novice surfer, when the waves are small, I stay shallow and then jump into them to catch them around low tide when they're still semi-rideable.  250 yards out in who-knows-how-deep water, that strategy wasn't going to work.  The break was so tiny I just couldn't catch anything.  I was too tired to paddle fast enough to catch any break that wasn't right on me, which none of them were.  So I floated for a bit.

"Surfing" in Hawaii

The water was incredibly clear, so I could see a ton of brightly-colored fish under me in the rocks and coral, definitely a different scene from cloudy San Diego beach water.  The other surfers there seemed pretty experienced, but even they weren't catching much.  They were just messing around on foam boards, which may have been the only way to get up in those conditions.  They did give me a shaka and an "Aloha" as I paddled up and were friendly and fun, so even though I couldn't catch a wave, I enjoyed visiting the Hawaiian surfing community.  My brother had much better luck with snorkeling in the area, seeing a barracuda, a sea turtle, and several other creatures.  I would have taken a turn but by the time I got back in, I was nauseous from riding the swells and staring down or back.  It was still worth a try though!  Thanks for renting me a board, Dad, and to the rest of the Krones for coming with me!

#58 - Become a Red Cross Disaster Services Volunteer

Ever since I was forced to watch that dang Fundamentals of Instructor Training video in 2001 to become a Water Safety Instructor for the American Red Cross (which I was forced to do through my undergraduate major), a piece of me has wanted to volunteer through Disaster Services.  Each subsequent time I watched the video (for my Lifeguarding Instructor certification; for my Water Safety Instructor training observation, practice co-teach, and practice teach; for my Lifeguarding Instructor Trainer practice teach; and then probably a thousand more times each time I taught an instructor course... This list now sounds like a brag list of my certifications, but really it's just leftover frustration that Fundamentals of Instructor Training was ever a course and my jealousy that now instructors do some online thing that seems way better), my interest and desire grew a little more, because each time, I felt mentally, emotionally, and physically more capable of responding to an emergency.

My first two American Red Cross certifications are laughable to anyone who knew me pre-physical-education major.  I was not a strong swimmer growing up.  I could swim, but my strokes all needed some major work.  My parents still need some convincing sometimes that I can even swim.  I think it was 2010 when they oversaw me playing water polo, and said, "We didn't realize you were such a strong swimmer!  At the time I had worked full-time in aquatics for 5 years and had both my swim instructor and lifeguarding certifications for 9 years.

However, aquatic certifications are desirable in the world of recreation.  When I applied to be a day camp counselor in the summer of 2001, they told me they'd love to hire me... as a swim instructor.  When I explained that I had never actually taught swimming, they told me the certification was good enough.  So I taught swimming.  And lifeguarded.  For the next 15 years.  Every summer.  And, for 7 years, also as part of my full-time job working in aquatics.

I still cannot believe I worked in aquatics for 7 years.

In that time, I not only became a very strong swimmer, I taught others to be very strong swimmers.  I also responded to a lot of first aid emergencies and non-emergencies.

I splinted bones and joints.  I controlled bleeding.  I managed seizures.

I don't believe I ever responded to something truly life threatening (except pulling people out of the water prior to their situation becoming life threatening), but I saw some things that scared me.

The scariest emergency I've ever witnessed involved a lot of blood, and I won't go into any more detail for the privacy of the victim.  I found the victim with a friend, both of whom I knew but not well.  I helped them to a safe, private room and alerted someone to call 911.  I sent someone else to gather towels.  I told her help was on the way, and while we were waiting, we'd do some paperwork.  I then pulled out an accident report form and calmly asked the two what had happened as well as some personal information required on the form.

The next day, the friend saw me in passing and said s/he was so glad they'd found me because s/he had been freaking out and asked something like, "How'd you know my friend was going to be okay?"  And I responded with an emphatic, "Oh, I didn't.  I was really scared.  Have you heard from your friend?  Is s/he going to be okay?"  The friend couldn't believe that I had been scared and told me how calming I had been.

What I've learned through teaching and real-life experience is that I am really, really good at recognizing my own panic, packing it up into a little ball, setting it aside for later, taking action to help victims, managing all aspects of situations, and appearing very calm and relaxed on the outside.

ID card official

While Disaster Services is quite different than responding directly to emergencies and/or being a professional rescuer, I believe that my ability to be still amidst chaos would translate well.  I like being the personification of reassurance.  Everyone is more level headed and makes better decisions when someone can confidently reassure them that everything will work out for the best if we can all take the actions we can right now.  Disasters are inevitable, but good decisions and comfort
can save lives, physically and emotionally.

This summer, I convinced myself that since I am done with classes and "only" working on my research and working part-time, I would have time to volunteer.  I finally signed up for a Disaster Services orientation and it was surprisingly informative and painless.  '

I still have a long way to go before I work my first gig, but having a name badge and next steps certainly crosses this one of the list for now.

I'll be sure to update this blog post (or post new ones) as this item progresses through the year.

#53 - Stand Up Paddle Board

Corry & me loving our jobs

I cannot believe it has taken me so long to try out this very pleasant outdoor activity.  While I do not have direct access to the necessary equipment, it is incredibly easy to rent in San Diego, I have a
friend who owns a board, and I've lived here three years.  Silly.

I finally had the opportunity shoved in my face when my job forced me to spend a Sunday afternoon on the bay, hanging with athletic college students, with free access to a variety of aquatic sport equipment.  That's right.  I had another opportunity to hang at the fantastic Mission Bay Aquatic Center (earlier this summer I took Advanced Sailing), and this time I was paid to do it.

Most of they day was filled with lectures, workshops, and round tables with the SDSU Sport Club presidents, but at the end of the day, the gang had two hours to play on or near the bay: grass volleyball, sailing, kayaking, and yes, stand up paddle boarding (also known as paddle boarding or SUP).

The water-loving students rushed out and grabbed all of the boards and stayed out on the water FOREVER.  I later learned they were doing fun studenty things like cramming everyone onto one board, lining the boards up and attempting to run across them, and mid-water trading equipment with the kayakers.  I love my job.

Killin' it

I played some grass volleyball with the remaining students, stupidly turned down a ride on the Hobie Cat, and impatiently watched the cluster in the middle of the bay, hoping they'd come back in time for me to take a ride.  (I kept my complaints to myself as much as possible because this event was for them, not me.  Playing on the bay is just a perk of my job.)

Once they came back, I took a board out and was surprised at how easy and pleasant paddle boarding is.  It felt like taking the most calming walk in a breathtakingly beautiful place.  I paddled into the bay, admired the beauty of Mission Bay and its shores, and paddled back.

I cannot wait to go again.





UPDATE


My next SUP session was in Hawaii!  One morning we headed over to the Marriott to take advantage of a deal one of the rental companies has: $35 for 4 hours of any of their water activities.  Chris, Casey, and my mom quickly formed the Snorkel Squad: "Snorkel Squad looks out for each other."  I told them Dad and I would be the SUP Squad.  I turned around and Dad was already heading to the boards.  "SUP Squad: Every man for himself."  We paddled.  It was pleasant.  The water was a little rougher than when I first paddled in San Diego Bay but still fun.  At one point a sea turtle swam right under me.  Casey soon joined the SUP Squad though the rental folks gave her a really skinny board, so she had a rougher transition.  I eventually tried her board out and quickly fell in.  It was a lovely morning.

A few days later, my buddy Nicole Green had arrived.  We tried to go SUPing on her second day there but the rentals were expensive and the weather was not cooperating.  We managed to squeeze in about an hour before she had to head to the airport the next day though.  The entry and exit were a little rough, but the paddling was nice.

If I were planning to stay in San Diego, I'd definitely be investing in a board.  It's just so dang pleasant.

#68 - Go to a Book Signing

This was another item that I did, and then, while I was there, thought, "Oh yeah, this is on my list this year."  I guess I'm now living the life I want to live and doing fun things without truly keeping track anymore.  I love that.  But I also love this blog, so I plan to keep documenting and listing.

I wrote this item, "Go to a Book Signing" with the attention of going to a book store, hearing a reading, and standing in line to get my book signed like I've seen in movies and on TV.  While I realize now that this isn't a totally "new" experience for me, I'll likely include this item every year with a different author because I now recall 3 authors I've heard speak, and all 3 were incredibly memorable experiences, though none were the scene I had pictured in my head.

The first author I recall hearing speak is Rick Moody, whose most famous work is The Ice Storm, a book I was assigned in my freshman English course at the University of Michigan.  I am an avid reader and took literature and creative writing courses all through college even though I planned to pursue my career in physical education.  (That's right, I was to be a PE teacher, but that's another story.)  My favorite creative writing instructor always gave us extra credit for attending the Hopwood Awards for writing.  In 2003, Rick Moody read his short story "Boys," which I came across again in The Best American Short Stories series.  Which year, I cannot recall and am having a bit of difficulty locating via the internet, though I do recommend the entire series as they are filled with beautiful examples of the undervalued medium of the short story.  The story "Boys" is brief and has a strange narrative style, but I remember a few lines to this day from that initial reading, and the emotions it stirred flow back even as I type these few sentences.  

I must have seen either Heather McHugh or Nancy Willard at the Hopwood Awards as well.  I had the same professor twice (Professor Tish O'Dowd, one of my favorite teachers of all time -- again, another story) and remember attending two award readings, but I guess I just don't have as good of a memory for poetry.

The second author I recall hearing is seeing Temple Grandin last year at an event at my university, the University of San Diego.  Tonight, I realized that one probably counts as a book signing.  I didn't think of it because it was more of a lecture followed by the opportunity to have a book signed.  I probably did not consider it a book signing also because Grandin did not talk about her writing nor any particular book as she was there to lecture about working with students with autism.  Regardless, she was incredible.  The way she so honestly answered questions at the end of the lecture was particularly moving.  I had brought a book with me: Animals in Translation, which my dad recommended and loaned to me -- maybe I'll actually remember to give it back to him one of these days as I had it signed for him.

Book nerding out here

Tonight, I attended a similar book signing, and since this was a little more like what I had in mind, I'm counting it.  I had the incredible opportunity to attend a conversation with Salman Rushdie at the University of San Diego.  This summer I read The Satanic Verses for the second time, before I knew he would be visiting my campus, and much like the first reading, I was confused a lot of the time and yet still very moved by his prose.  His depth and whimsy draws me into the story enough that the 500+ pages somehow fly by and probe my curiosity about the content and its author.

The event certainly qualified as a "book signing" as it was an event on Rushdie's tour for his new book Two Years Eight Months and Twenty-Eight Nights.  While there was no reading, the event included a copy of the book, an hour-long conversation facilitated by USD professor Avi Spiegel (author of Young Islam), half an hour of question and answer, and a signing.  

The new book

Spiegel did a fantastic job facilitating an intriguing conversation about the book, knowing full well that most of the audience, sitting with the book in their laps, had not read it.  We were there to see Rushdie, not necessarily to dwell in the specifics of a book we had yet to read.  Spiegel's questions were so thoughtful that Rushdie was able to both delve deeply into the book and to transcend the book, discussing the larger themes, including time, love, education, religion (of course), and the process of writing.  The conversation revealed such fascinating details that I cannot wait to dive into the book (which I will once I finish at least one of the 5 books I am partway through.  I read a lot but I like reading a few chapters from different books each day.)

My favorite bit was when Spiegel bravely asked Rushdie about how he was able to carry on with his work when he had faced such hardships and even personal danger in doing so.  Rushdie responded quickly, explaining that it was nothing to be admired as it was the only thing to do.  After some poetic explanations, he told us, 'Bad writing is a matter of talent. Self censorship is a matter of choice.' (I'm reluctant to completely quote that as I may have mis-remembered the exact words, but it was close to that.)  It was a beautiful moment and his words resonate with me deeply.  I often hold my true feelings and opinions in to avoid conflict or tension.  Rushdie puts his words down and shares them with the world, knowing they will cause conflict and tension.  I plan to meditate on this idea.

Rushdie was incredibly receptive and engaging.

Rushdie signed my copy of 2828 and The Satanic Verses

I am so honored to have met such a globally influential person who speaks so boldly and poetically.  I look forward to reading 2828, and I even ordered Midnight's Children as I have yet to read that one either.  I have a feeling Rushdie may official become one of my favorite authors as I delve deeper into his work.