So we made it here, Lake Chelan and as usual it is gorgeous. The lake is so beautiful and flat, truly picturesque. If there were a better way to arrive at this idyllic location, other than driving with two kids, one who asks within the first hour of at least a five hour drive, "are at Lake Chelan?" I am not one for a great deal of patience, so it doesn't take long before I am telling Eytan, don't ask me anymore if you want a response from me.
I was worried most about the drive and my piriformis. I had picked up a prescription for robaxin before we left after doubling up on my acupuncture treatments since I wouldn't be able to go for a week. The pharmacist gave me some spiel about the medication: it will make your urine dark and it may make you drowsy. No problem. I can try it at home first before driving with it to be sure I am going to be safe while using it. So, after we finally arrive in Lake Chelan, my back is in great pain. The drive was too long for me to sit and not experience pain. I had taken some Advil and that works fine but not having eaten a real meal other than chips and some cauliflower on the road, my stomach was not happy when I finally added the robaxin in the mix too. That made for a bad first evening in Lake Chelan, but we did some stargazing and I powered through.
The first full day, Monday in Lake Chelan was a mixed bag. The piriformis still acting funny. I picked up the bottle of robaxin and wondered: what made my stomach hurt? Was it the robaxin or was it that I took it after having taken advil and not eating enough real food? Then, I looked at the prescription bottle and saw the label about not taking it with alcoholic beverages. I don't know about you, but when I see that I don't read it as a warning, rather I read it as an invitation. If the medication is going to make me loopy, alcohol is merely going to enhance it. Who wouldn't want that? I mean seriously? Yes, please. So, I took the robaxin. We went to a winery for a tasting before dinner then I had a margarita at dinner. Why wouldn't I take the robaxin. It's medicinal at this point; to reduce my pain. At least that's what I tell myself.
After the day I had of my child screaming and crying over the inability to find her butterfly swimsuit only to discover it at bedtime under a blanket on her bed, I deserve the robaxin with the extra kick. I just hope it does not cause any stomach upset, because that would ruin everything.
It is gorgeous out here though. As we drive to dinner, the first place we were planning to go to was closed, apparently only open seasonally, and we aren't here for the right season. So much for El Vaquero. Into town we go, which is a nice drive and it makes me think, perhaps I should do that marathon or perhaps half-marathon in Lake Chelan again. It was a beautiful course. But, dang a full-marathon is no joke! And the drive, grrr. Why can't there be another means to get here? Think Star-Trek, teleporting. Then we ponder how on earth do these places stay in business? How can you sustain yourself if you're only open seasonally? What do you do the rest of the year? If you aren't a winery, and there are plenty of those out here, what are you doing to make money and live in Lake Chelan? Please clue me in. I guess any resort community would be the same, but this is a nice place to visit, but other than to retire, what do younger people do here? Unless they are training for something and are getting paid to be here. Some things make since on how you sustain yourself: teaching, doctors, some lawyers, but beyond some essential professionals and with a community this small can't take a lot of those people to saturate the market, so then what? How many boutique shops can this place sustain? How many create your own yogurt shops can this place handle?
While I ponder this some more, I will pop another robaxin with my wine. Have a great night.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Friday, March 21, 2014
Are you a unicorn?
As I putting another load of clothes in the washing machine this morning, I recalled I told Eytan I would order her a pair of unicorn socks. I bought myself a pair of unicorn socks. Then I bought my sister a pair of unicorn socks. These unicorn socks came to be a thing after running and getting odd looks from people.
I had been training for an ultramarathon with my running partner, Jane. Since we were always going out on weekends for long runs in preparation for the big 50k, we decided to keep things interesting and go out to the Banks-Vernonia trail one morning. It was pouring rain when we got there and the plan was to go out for 21 or 22 miles. I can't recall exactly, but we were going to be out there for a while. As we strolled along several miles into our long run, we realized there was an organized run that was going on that same day on that same trail (really, what are the odds of that happening?) We had other runners pass us going the other direction clapping, as if we had passed them, so not the case, but who were we to let them down. Every now and again Jane would feel bad and tell them, 'we're not part of the race'. I however said, 'who cares, let them think we lapped them' But, then maybe 6 miles in, a bunch of people kept waving at me and smiling at me. It was obvious they weren't looking at Jane, but were only looking at me. Jane noticed it too. She said something about it as we kept trucking along, 'wow, you're like a celebrity out here.' I knew that could not be farther from the truth. Banks-Vernonia is rural and i'm sure these people don't see brown people except on television or they think they are some sort of mythical creature. I told Jane, I think they've never seen a Black person before, and they certainly haven't one running out here in Banks. Jane decided to see me out their running was like seeing a unicorn for these people. They were appeared to be so fascinated with what they were seeing and could not keep the look of shock and awe off their faces. It was weird though. I smiled back at them and waved because I do like a fellow friendly runner, but them smiling at a running unicorn was a moment remembered.
Afterwards, I mentioned the incident to my sister who cycles and also gets odd glances. So, after finding some unicorn socks, bought a pair for myself and my sister.
Portland is a funny place. Even funnier if you aren't White, because White people can do some funny stuff. I know there are Black people in Portland, and I know they run, walk, and do all sorts of activities. Why is it then when I go for a run, I am the sole unicorn? I occasionally will see another Black runner in Forrest Park, but it tends to be a super fast African runner whose feet seem to barely touch the ground: that is not me. During the warmer months I sometimes see a group of Black people walking along the waterfront; but, that is once in a blue-moon.
Once, I saw a couple of Black people running in SE, where I live and I was quick to point it out to my husband. I was like, 'look, Sam! That means they probably live over here too!' I haven't seen them since. Darn it!! So, I continue to donn my unicorn socks. And now, I will get Eytan and Ayelet a pair because they want to run, too. But, at least together we'll be a ...what do you call a pack of unicorns? Okay, so I just Googled it and a pack of unicorns is called a blessing. So, anyway, at least, Eytan, Ayelet and I will be a unicorn blessing in our unicorn socks running through SE. A force to be reckoned.
I had been training for an ultramarathon with my running partner, Jane. Since we were always going out on weekends for long runs in preparation for the big 50k, we decided to keep things interesting and go out to the Banks-Vernonia trail one morning. It was pouring rain when we got there and the plan was to go out for 21 or 22 miles. I can't recall exactly, but we were going to be out there for a while. As we strolled along several miles into our long run, we realized there was an organized run that was going on that same day on that same trail (really, what are the odds of that happening?) We had other runners pass us going the other direction clapping, as if we had passed them, so not the case, but who were we to let them down. Every now and again Jane would feel bad and tell them, 'we're not part of the race'. I however said, 'who cares, let them think we lapped them' But, then maybe 6 miles in, a bunch of people kept waving at me and smiling at me. It was obvious they weren't looking at Jane, but were only looking at me. Jane noticed it too. She said something about it as we kept trucking along, 'wow, you're like a celebrity out here.' I knew that could not be farther from the truth. Banks-Vernonia is rural and i'm sure these people don't see brown people except on television or they think they are some sort of mythical creature. I told Jane, I think they've never seen a Black person before, and they certainly haven't one running out here in Banks. Jane decided to see me out their running was like seeing a unicorn for these people. They were appeared to be so fascinated with what they were seeing and could not keep the look of shock and awe off their faces. It was weird though. I smiled back at them and waved because I do like a fellow friendly runner, but them smiling at a running unicorn was a moment remembered.
Afterwards, I mentioned the incident to my sister who cycles and also gets odd glances. So, after finding some unicorn socks, bought a pair for myself and my sister.
Portland is a funny place. Even funnier if you aren't White, because White people can do some funny stuff. I know there are Black people in Portland, and I know they run, walk, and do all sorts of activities. Why is it then when I go for a run, I am the sole unicorn? I occasionally will see another Black runner in Forrest Park, but it tends to be a super fast African runner whose feet seem to barely touch the ground: that is not me. During the warmer months I sometimes see a group of Black people walking along the waterfront; but, that is once in a blue-moon.
Once, I saw a couple of Black people running in SE, where I live and I was quick to point it out to my husband. I was like, 'look, Sam! That means they probably live over here too!' I haven't seen them since. Darn it!! So, I continue to donn my unicorn socks. And now, I will get Eytan and Ayelet a pair because they want to run, too. But, at least together we'll be a ...what do you call a pack of unicorns? Okay, so I just Googled it and a pack of unicorns is called a blessing. So, anyway, at least, Eytan, Ayelet and I will be a unicorn blessing in our unicorn socks running through SE. A force to be reckoned.
Thursday, March 20, 2014
Hey, remember me?
So, I was noticing the date of my last post. Well, not the exact date, but the year. 2011. 2011?!? Wow. It's not even like I haven't thought about this. I have. I was actually just looking at creating another blog. Then I remembered, oh, I have one already. Good thing I didn't have to try to recall my password, that would have been a disaster.
So what's changed in three years? Eytan is 5 and Ayelet is 3. Both go to the same school. So tonight was a family literacy night at their school. I tend to use these events as an opportunity to reconnect with friends. Let the kids run amok, while mommy socializes. I love chatting it up with my friends and realizing our interconnectedness. We can poke fun at the private school, which we all love but for some reason they don't have any mermaid stickers for the make your own bookmark...why is that? Cheaped out on that, eh? Where's my tuition going?
As Sam and I chatted with our friend, who realized he sent a text to someone he believed was Sam but in actuality was not (it was the wrong number entirely) I asked if he sent a dickpic. This is what happens when you spend time watching Bravo television. Sam and I have been watching the Online Dating Rituals of the American Male on Bravo and apparently sending dickpics is something that single men doing after going on a date. Who knew? The show is moderately entertaining. Bravo is good for parking lot television shows, y'know. You can just turn it on and zone out and park there for a while, you may be entertained but if you aren't you aren't bored enough to turn the channel. Or, there is nothing better on so you may as well stay there.
Well, having said that. The hour is late and I must get ready to go to bed. But, I want to check out a few websites before going to bed. Like Oiselle. I was just looking at Oiselle's Facebook page and I am always inspired to run more and faster when I see great women but average everyday women running great races. Although I am running lots now, both for my own sanity: running is my time away from my family to be zen, my piece of clarity in my day, my time alone. I have been dealing with some piriformis pain and I have been seeing my acupuncturist for the pain, I am always inspired to enter another race when I see pictures and read posts of other women's races. I don't want my pain to keep me from running. So, before I take up too much time, I must get to Oiselle and see what I may want buy and what event I may want to enter. I really should create a budget annually for races, this could really get out of control - entry fees, that is.
So, having said all that, I will close this with I'm back and I have a lot to say.
So what's changed in three years? Eytan is 5 and Ayelet is 3. Both go to the same school. So tonight was a family literacy night at their school. I tend to use these events as an opportunity to reconnect with friends. Let the kids run amok, while mommy socializes. I love chatting it up with my friends and realizing our interconnectedness. We can poke fun at the private school, which we all love but for some reason they don't have any mermaid stickers for the make your own bookmark...why is that? Cheaped out on that, eh? Where's my tuition going?
As Sam and I chatted with our friend, who realized he sent a text to someone he believed was Sam but in actuality was not (it was the wrong number entirely) I asked if he sent a dickpic. This is what happens when you spend time watching Bravo television. Sam and I have been watching the Online Dating Rituals of the American Male on Bravo and apparently sending dickpics is something that single men doing after going on a date. Who knew? The show is moderately entertaining. Bravo is good for parking lot television shows, y'know. You can just turn it on and zone out and park there for a while, you may be entertained but if you aren't you aren't bored enough to turn the channel. Or, there is nothing better on so you may as well stay there.
Well, having said that. The hour is late and I must get ready to go to bed. But, I want to check out a few websites before going to bed. Like Oiselle. I was just looking at Oiselle's Facebook page and I am always inspired to run more and faster when I see great women but average everyday women running great races. Although I am running lots now, both for my own sanity: running is my time away from my family to be zen, my piece of clarity in my day, my time alone. I have been dealing with some piriformis pain and I have been seeing my acupuncturist for the pain, I am always inspired to enter another race when I see pictures and read posts of other women's races. I don't want my pain to keep me from running. So, before I take up too much time, I must get to Oiselle and see what I may want buy and what event I may want to enter. I really should create a budget annually for races, this could really get out of control - entry fees, that is.
So, having said all that, I will close this with I'm back and I have a lot to say.
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