on running

I seldom post about my fitness (that makes me feel like I should have a thong leotard with a belt and leg warmers) on my blog. Everyone who reads knows I am hyper active. I am regularly frustrated with having to sit through a movie, I am always doing something while I read, talk on the phone, watch tv.
You all are familiar with my eating situation. Spinach for breakfast in my green monsters. Homemade soup for lunch (made a killer pot of mushroom soup this weekend) and nothing I can pronounce and tell you where it comes from. I count my veggies daily. I keep track of water in-take. I cook. Organically and whole whenever I can. Lentil tacos instead of TVP. Local veggies if at all possible. Blah blah blah. I still cook and have no desire to eat raw, so I've not gone off the deep end yet.
You all know that several days (maybe 4) I walk my dogs an hour or so ...like me you have to wear them out so they will be good in the house. If given a choice between a fancy dinner with wine and hiking and a jug of water...I'll take hiking almost every time. If it weren't for my love of pretty girl make up and kick ass knee boots, I'd be a total hippy granola outdoors girl. But I do plan some of my activity.
My most recent addiction is crossfit 2 to 3 days a week into my routine. Folks, I love it. Its hard. I mean, face scrunching, sweat dripping in 3 minutes of work, I can't do this anymore hard. It feels good to work so hard at 6 a.m. I come to school bouncy, endorphins working, students giving me the sideways, "Mama, its so early...." look as I sing and joke with them walking in the door at 8 a.m. Plus, one of my instructors plays House of Pain and stirring up my Everlast lust juice early in the day is a nice little jolt.
I also do Krav Maga every Saturday. Its not as hard, but it feels good to hit things and coordinate my body movements one after another in the complex choreography that this form of fighting uses. It also feels damn good to hit my instructor in the chest (he has a kick pad) and still hear him go, "ooof, good hits, Err." And it cracks me up, that when he introduced himself as my partner for end drills that my natural response was, "Yeah, dude. I know you. You choked me last week." I've noticed that while I am working hard during both of these exercise classes, I'm not gassing in the same way that other students may be. I give this credit to my main sport. Running.
Except. I'm a really sucky runner. I destroyed my hip about three years ago. Two (count 'em two) doctors (both team doctors for professional sports teams) told me I wouldn't run again. I am slow. Like 11/12 minute mile slow. But I'm steady. At races where others pass me and then walk up the hills, I gain time on them (shorter steps, harder work). I have some serious trouble with PF. I go to yoga twice a week (the big girl's class that other instructors take not because I am bendy, but because I am strong... how long do you want me to hold chair? No sweat). I've strained my calf in the middle of half marathon training and am not sure it will hold for more than a few miles at a time.
Which begs the question. Am I a real runner? What if (and this is a question thats been looming in the back of my noggin for quite some time) I can never be sucessful with long runs? With high miles for the week without injury? Am I a real runner when I run 3 to 4 comfortable miles a few days a week? Am I a real runner if I am comfortable with that? Am I a real runner if running becomes part of a more circular training plan instead of what all my other workouts strive to support?
I'll bet you thought I had some Err style philosophy to lay on this question, huh? I don't, really. I know I love to run. I love the time alone. I love being outside. I love my shower after and feeling hungry (especially when there is something good waiting for me to eat). I love the rhythm and sweat. But I don't love the frustration of trying to go for more and hurting myself. I don't love icing my hurty parts. I don't love the judgments of really good runners who would consider me a jogger. So I don't really have an answer for this. But I'll let you know what I come up with.

Just Laugh

People. I am slammed. Totally working all the time. My union rep 'job' is a helluva lot of work (in a contract year after the levy failed and our district staff has lost twenty five percent of its teachers). Getting ready for the holiday season at WM's shop, getting my house and yard ready for winter, getting ready to do all the fix up stuff we should have been doing when I was in school, and teaching two new preps is whipping my ass. Just wait until Christmas season finally starts and my training cranks up a notch. But that's ok. Because I'm insane and thinking of adding a mix of crossfit and krav maga classes to my mix. Ya know. In my spare time. Seriously, people. What the holy hell is wrong with me?? Damn good thing I channel this dysfunction into good things instead of booze and crack and cheap hooker men.

I moved this year from 7th grade to 8th grade again, which means I haven't taught the same subject 2 years in a row since my return to public school teaching 3 years ago. But this has created this magical situation where I have most of the same kids I had last year. And I have them for 2 hour blocks. An hour of Language Arts and an hour of Social Studies (my staff went from 34 staff members down to 20... we are being creative, people). The kids know me. They know what I expect and the relationship and trust is pretty much already there.

I tease the kids daily about how they clearly didn't pray enough over the summer if they had to have me two years in a row....

We're doing a unit on horror and they like that it breaks up the boring crap I have to teach (which I tell them is the boring crap I have to teach) like vocab and paragraph structure. I know, I know. You're already wondering how someone who forgoes any kind of real grammar in leui of the use of ..... to convey the rhythm of talk can teach this crap. I dunno. I just told you I tell my kids its crap. Go find me in English teacher hell in 60 years....

I'm having a lot of fun with these kids. I'm already Mama to most of the new kids even though I didn't tell them to call me that. I've already had some white lady call the principal because she doesn't want her kid to call me that (um, so tell your kid not to... she can feel free to call me Dr. Err...it IS my name). Really. I got 4 white kids. Way to be uncomfortable lady! At least all four haven't called. Funny that her kid calls me this anyway.

There is something that feels right standing in the hall, getting DAP from some hood and hearing, "'sup Mama."

We're having fun with convos like this:

Knucklehead 1 and 2 are boys. Um, I don't mean males... I mean close friends. Knucklehead 3 just don't get some stuff. The class is reading Legend of Sleepy Hollow (we also rewrote it in our own words...the kids did amazing jobs and dang, it was funny). I walk up in time to see Kh 2 and 3 getting a little loud with each other.

Err: What is wrong with you boys?
3: He's calling me Bobby (lets say boy's name is Robert).
Err: So knock it off (to 2)
2: He's calling Isreal Izabod (like Ichabod).
3: He did it first!!! (pointing to 2).
Err: Dear sweet Jesus. Robert, there are things that some people can call other people, that not everyone is allowed to call them. Let it go and don't call him that anymore.
1: Dr. Err. I don't get it.
Err: Isreal. Do you want 2 to call you Izzyhuny like I do???
Laughter from all boys
1: (who now sounds very much like a cow who's voice is changing) Nooooooo
Err: Ok. So knock it off, act right, and get to work, huh boys?

I laugh out loud every day at my job.

I laughed out loud telling my mom about the boy who just got expelled for all but swinging on a teacher, (like he said, "hold my books while I drop this so and so).
My mom didn't laugh. She knows that one of these classes has 5 boys who are trouble enough shut down a class on their own. 4 of them are in a gang.

Err: Man. Ain't nuthin' you can do but laugh about it.
Ma: (who is worried, because at 14 and 15, these boys are getting big) That's not funny.
Err: Yeah. I guess not. But I can't take that home. I can't take home, how this kid got so screwed up. How someone screwed him up enough that he thinks he can wink and flirt and touch me. I can't take home that 75% of my students mentioned that they have either never met their dad, or he's in jail, or they didn't meet him until they were 9 because he was locked up when they were born. Or how their dad is in jail because he tried to kill their mom and them. Or how they got jumped in to the neighborhood gang. Or what the life expectancy is for a gang member.

I can't take that home with me every night.
So I laugh about it.

Tired Monkey Mind

There have been so many times I've clicked on my blog to read my blog roll and thought, 'dang...I should write something...". And then I don't. I just plain don't have the energy. But I've been up since 3-something, and at 5 I decided to just get up, and am back in bed with a sleeping little black dog (ok, people keep telling me that 50 some pounds isn't little, but compared to Mr. 70 pounds, it is...) and I really feel like I should write somethings.

I've worked way too hard this summer. I'm teaching an on-line class and its for a new certification program, I didn't write the syllabus, and the technology and registration system is all new to me and the university. So naturally, its been a huge cluster-you-know-what. Beyond that... pedagogically speaking, I don't believe in on-line classes. Everything I know about what teaching (or what I really consider the facilitation of education, I just don't want to sound like a sanctimonious tool) tells me that the learning here, isn't like the learning that goes on in a class, where I know you, I know what you're doing, what you're thinking, etc. A lot of it is my notions of language and the way work is done with language. Whatever. I still feel a bit like a tool because the bottom line is teaching these classes keep me current at the University (take THAT all of you people who told me: a) I couldn't teach at the academy and public school b) I couldn't teach where I went to school c) I couldn't continue to publish/research/be active without a university (I was just added to an editorial review board of a pretty major journal and ya know...that book was published a few months ago...reviews are great). And no lie... the money is good and we did just buy 33 acres.

I've also been giving Habitat 2 days a week. Ten hour days when you figure my drive time. Wears my shit out. But I've learned a lot. And ya know... I figure its the right thing to do. I know about substandard housing, government housing and how my grandmother was so proud of my parents buying a house that she carried the pic in her purse (she never owned a home). People keep asking me if I'm having fun. Um. No. I went to college so I wouldn't have to lift tresses up on a roof for all day. But I've been crazy blessed and I know it. I figure I'm supposed to do something with it and this seems reasonable.

I am so seriously behind in my life. With the exception of a really nice week at the beach with friends (which I don't mean to discount) I haven't seen anyone I love. I've gone to lunch with my mom 3 times. That's not enough, folks. I haven't gotten shit done around my house. School starts in 2 weeks or so and I feel more behind than when school was in session. I'm freaking out a little.

I've been running a bit (more than I typically do in summer), not nearly enough yoga and walking my crazy dogs daily. Hank is doing great with his doggie rehab from his attack. I am still totally f-ed up. I'd go get some help with that, but I think (and man, this sounds rude...) that I'm smart enough to know that I'm trying to change my mindset. I dunno if it would work anyway. Weird that I've seen enough people die that I have to count it on my fingers, seen a couple of 'em murdered (yeah, that's what I think that cop did to T) and interestingly enough, I've seen 3 (count 'em 3) people pulled out of car windows to get their ass beat.... and THIS is what screws with my head. Nuts, man.

I lost a buddy last week. Funny. I knew this was coming. You know how you just know these things. I dunno. Maybe because things like this pop off in the summer. Maybe because I spend a lot of time in environments where ya know... people die more (had 4 students loose a parent this year folks...you do the math). I'm not sure. But I knew a loss was coming. To be honest with you, given the climate in the neighborhood... I thought it was going to be a student. I'd braced myself. I checked work e-mail daily. This, however, hit me like a brick. Totally not ready for it. And it hurts way more than these things usually do. I'm typically pretty good at sucking it up and shaking it off. This one, boy... stings. And I've found I think I deal with things differently than a lot of my other friends. I'm not really one to 'talk about it.' Rather I stuff it down and try to stay busy (check) and not think about it for a while. So I don't have like a tribute, or anything... maybe someday. Not for a while.

This loss, however, cause a total spin out of my life. The busy schedule I was keeping stopped. My fridge ran low and now I find myself eating way too much processed food (cuz that's what TB can fix). I need to pull my shit together and I know it. This process has also been slowed down by the fence I've been building in my backyard. Little sweetie dog asleep in between TB and me (who's got his 'arms' around TB like they're spooning) is nuts and won't stay out of my flowers (which I need to weed really badly). So a fence. That I've had to build all by myself. Its almost built, but its about 70 feet long so it took some doing. I like to think of it as the Fence that Err Built. If LD can get through it... I'm pulling the garden out and setting up a white flag.

I'm ready for school to start. With 40 percent of our staff gone (and all my homies) its going to be a long year. But I'm ready to get at it. I love my kids. I miss them. I'll be working more (sort of) because I'll still have another university class, and it will be Christmas at WM's shop, but I should be more scheduled. I thrive on a schedule. It should be a bit easier, actually. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

You could tell me that, too. Because right now... my magic veggie bag is totally freaking me out....

Recent Convo with My Mama

I went to WM’s shop to bring her an iced tea and visit while she ate her lunch. I offered to throw away her Healthy Choice bowl thingy.

Err: Lemme get that for you.
WM: Oh, NO! You don’t have to get that.
Err: I don’t mind. Its not a big deal. You ate lunch out of it. You didn’t pee in it.
WM: How do you know?
Err: Cuz I learned table manners from you and I’m pretty sure there was a ‘no peeing in the bowl” rule.

Simplicity Goodness Truth

I have always worked hard to be one of the positive, productive, adds something to the world type of people I like so much. I'm not sure how well that goes along with my very serious ability to dish out a scorch mark leaving burn and my redhead temper...but whatever. I'm complicated.
Since finishing the doctoral program, and finding my niche with my babies in Jr High Social Studies (despite a prolonged time where pride of the academy poked me in the eye roughly ten times a day), getting my dogs, and deciding to buy some land and build a green house (I mean eco friendly...not the color green...though I'm not opposed to green...)I have felt a profound change in my world.
In who I am.
I mean, no lie... I'm still who I am, but something has changed. I have a different relationship with my world. I have a very intimate relationship with the simple things in my life. Walking with my dogs. A beautiful morning and a good cup of coffee on the way into work. Hearing, "Morning Mama" and knowing that a good portion of those kids look for me first thing each day. I have a different relationship with food. Not in the diet, weight watchers kind of way. I'm pretty comfortable in my body. I'm not skinny and dysfunctional about it (and I'm amazed at the emphasis on that concept on many blogs) and I'm not a big girl who's decided to be comfortable being big... I just have a new food philosophy that emphasizes simple foods, whole foods, natural and organic foods. Food as fuel for my active life. I need these good whole foods to run 4 or 5 miles before my hour and a half advanced vinyasa yoga class (after a full day at work).
I am into simplicity with regard to things. Purchases are based on need rather than cool factor. My decision to have my next car be a 2 seater Lexus has been replaced by a decision to have something that is both gasennomical and big enough to fit 2 big dogs and a bunch of gear. My purchases are more often that not 'gear related' new running shoes, sport bras, yoga clothes, new chef's knife or cutting board, my yoga fees, dog training fees.
My time is spent simply. I am outside as much as not, when I'm not working. I build at habitat with women, I garden, I run, I walk the dogs, I hike. I sit outside and watch the world. I spend most days trying to figure out how to best use the gifts that God has given me. I have been crazy blessed. There must be something I am supposed to do with it. My job is at times hard. There are two gangs jockeying around for turf in the neighborhood where my school is located. My boys are claiming and joining and getting hurt. I had four kids loose a parent this year. Poor people do not get the same medical care as others. Don't kid yourself folks. But my approach to complicated situations is simple. I love those kids. I tell them I love them every day. I show them I love them. Everyday. I keep my foot FIRMLY up their behinds. And I tell them about their choices. Every. Day. Simple.
In efforts to make my personal life as simple as my material life and my professional life I go out of my way to avoid drama. To avoid those with drama. I get that sometimes, drama happens. But there are those who enjoy it. Feed off from it. Aren't happy with peace and simplicity. Those who have problems in their life and stay angst-y and negative. I approach this simply, too. I stay away from this energy. I stay away from these people. Its ugly and dark. I can't deal with it simply, so I simply don't deal with it.
I am happier than I have ever been in my life. And I have always worked at being happy so that's saying something. Sometimes I'll be doing something and just realize how insanely happy I am. How settled. How peaceful. Even with the craziness that is my schedule (three jobs, volunteer work, my own physical training, my dog training and rehab), I am peaceful in my simple life.
And this week a drop of drama that was cut out inserted itself into my world. Just a drop. And I've had two sleepless nights. I've been preoccupied. I have been distracted from my simple life. It isn't my relationship (so I can't weed it out like the thistles in my yard) but it is in my world and its damn complicated. And less than peaceful.

Now, I need to find a simple solution.

About Today.....

There is so much to tell you, faithful readers! The end of a school year, really good training, a wonderful vacation with friends at Hatteras. But as I am finally settled with some time on my hands (really, not so much... there is training, and gardening, and cooking, and teaching classes...) I wanted to tell you about my first day of working at home.
I've worked at home before. When I worked full time at the university. Its nice. You begin your day however it is that you begin a day and then sit down to work with breakfast (at least if you're an early bird like me). My goal on work at home days is to get up around 5, get a cup of mud (maybe a granola bar if its a run day), take the pups for a walk by about 6 (because its hot with the onset of summer)go for a run and by about 8 a.m. I'm ready to eat breakfast and turn on the computer.
This morning, however, still apparently on SB time (sandy beach time) I woke up nearly an hour late at 6. I still had to have a cup of coffee because I'd likely get Wonder Dawg and I lost without it... but no worries as I was going to run in the afternoon before yoga.
*****Attention Running Buddies... no lie, running and then an intense yoga session is the best brick ever...all of your hurty running parts feel AWESOME after. Though you'll want to stay down wind of the rest of the folks in the class. ;)*****
I was walking back to my front porch with the WD when I heard The Boy yell, "DON'T COME IN." Um. Ok. So we waited and practiced some training on the front walk. Soon TB cracked open the door, took the leash and shooed us in the house at a break neck speed. To make a long story short, our cat (who was pretty much wild to begin with and wants nothing to do with us since we adopted the dogs) had escaped from the bathroom where TB was trying to get him into a cage to go to the vet. This is all kinds of fun with a Little Dog who likes to chase anything that will move. This is all aside from trying to CATCH a cat who's pretty much wild and hates you. Which is why I left my pretty little house around 7 and got home at 7:50 to this:

Ah shit.
And 'Ah shit' is right, ladies and gentlemen. Because TB (who by the way was chasing the cat in his underwear was already about 5 minutes late leaving for his history camp field trip and whining like a 8 year old girl about how he was going to miss the bus.
This was now my problem and TB's happy ass was on his way to the Neil Armstrong Museum.
Ah shit.
But wait. There's more!
I remembered that Walter was in the bedroom. Why oh why, I thought wasn't he in his cage. He has some attachment issues and freaks out a little when he's separated from us. And by freaks out... I mean he frantically chews shit up.
I put catching the cat on hold for a while and carefully entered the bedroom (which is attached to our bath). Please notice how I didn't let the damn dogs out....
My make up bag was all over LD's bed. Two toothbrushes were there in millions of pieces (some pieces, it seems LD ate... he has eaten parts of at least 4 toothbrushes in the last 6 months...he has to have the cleanes damn doggie digestive tract ever). And in other little pieces was my $500.00 mouth thingy that keeps my TMJ and my headaches in check.
Yay.
I have already decided that I hate TB. Now I am seriously considering having T-shirts made that say so.
My head is splitting because I haven't had enough coffee and I'm laying (after putting the dogs in the cage where they can't hurt anything or themselves) on the floor with my rose bush dragon hide gloves on and a jute rug rolled around my arm trying to force the cat out from under the cabinet.
Yay.
Finally (at like 11:00) I got him out and into the basement. I'm sure he's doing some sort of kitty-blog on an stop the kitty violence website about how horrible his owners are.
I put my living room back together. Ordered my T-shirts and finally made my Green Monster and prepared to work at home.

A good shower

A friend of mine gets has this motto that she got from her dad; earn your shower today. I dunno. Its something like that... its her motto and her dad. You get the drift.
Usually my showers are short. I try to stay under ten minutes. Seven is great. Its a water saving thing. Today, I took maybe a 12 minute luxurious shower and somewhere around minute 8 (cuz I was really done with the shower part and was just enjoying the hot water on my sore body) it occurred to me, "ER, ya earned it today."
Today I joined an all female crew who is building a house for Habitat for Humanity.
I don't typically think of myself as a slouch. I run fairly far (maybe not by Marathon Maniac standards... but real freakin far by normal person standards). I choose vacations around some particular activity and usually I wind up bruised and/or bloody. At least I have the last couple (hi JC!!!). I go to the big girls (read: hard as shit) yoga class a couple-a times a week. I walk my dogs maybe 16/20 miles a week. I spend time in the yard sweating and toiling in the dirt more days than not in the summer. I work 6 days a week every other week. You get the idea. Not a lot of moss gathers on this rolling stone.
But gentle readers... today....totally kicked my ass. I found my line of when I decide, "ya know... screw that... I am going to let someone else pick up the board."
I hammered and hammered and built a window hole thingy that got put in a wall that I also helped build.
I hate to hammer.
I am apparently, pretty good at it. My dad and mom raised me right so its not like I've never held a hammer and I'm pretty strong so I don't need a lot of wacks. And plus... I'm pretty angry so ya know... I'm good at hammering. Heh. But the bad thing about this is that you get asked to hammer all the live long day. And the lady who was teaching me how to build window holes (they have headers and jacks and kings and kings are tall and jacks are short and if you don't measure right, then you've got a big damn problem) was no joke. She'd tell me, "no, that's not straight, lets do it again." I would then start the joyous process of pulling out the stupid toe nailed nails (which means they are crooked and hard as shit to get out of two boards). I took out a lot of nails.
It was hard.
Like do you remember when I ran my first half marathon? How I almost cried because it was just so physically taxing. I wasn't even tickled to have done it because it was just so hard I wanted it to be over. Today, after being there from 8:30 to 4:00, I was tired. And the wall wasn't quite finished so we decided to put in over time. I had that same feeling of wanting to cry and go home.
It was a hard day.
But it was kind of awesome.
Habitat builds in neighborhoods like the one I came from. This street had many empty homes with high grass, and kids yelling, playing out front grown folks keeping a watchful eye for cars (and bad guys I guess). Across the way, they were having a bar b q. Oh my dear sweet Lord. Do you have any idea how good that smelled 'round 4:15? And even grandaddy came out with a drink in his cup dancing and laughing. It so reminded me of my grandaddy dancing with me. The noise of the traffic, the kid noise, people yelling... I could close my eyes and be sitting on the stoop on the 'wood. It was good for my soul.
There has been a lot in my world recently that I can deal with, but I can't do much about. Today I could do something about nails and wood that didn't want to match. And a wall that needed built. And that was good for my soul.
It was a good day. But damn. Not only did I earn my shower but I also needed one. And that was the best for my soul.
But I think my bad shoulder is going to kick my ass tomorrow.