The bun! The bun!

I am the kind of person who looks at a restaurant’s menu online before she goes out to dinner. I like to have an idea of what I’m going to order ahead of time, to cut down on the on-the-spot decision making.

I am a planner.

But I found out over the weekend that it’s much harder to plan your meal when you’re eating dim sum.

This particular meal made it on my 27 list mostly because Husband has raved about it, and I’m always up for trying new things.

And, to a degree, I knew what to expect: servers pushing around carts full of food that we could say either yes or no to.

What I didn’t know was how competitive/frantic dim sum could make me feel.

The first couple carts came around fairly quickly, and we enjoyed pork buns and sticky rice – two of the best dishes of the day.

But then there was a lull.

The next carts I saw were loaded with clams and shrimp and beef and chicken…but they were empty by the time they got to us. And I think that made me even hungrier. I know it added to this frantic need I felt to have to choose quickly (and a lot) once the server stopped at our table.

Which is why, when the dessert cart came around and we had a choice between custard pie and custard in a bun, I practically shouted, “The bun! The bun!” to Husband, as if there were a time limit on the decision. Or as if someone else would take it if we didn’t act NOW. (Even though there were plenty available.)

In my defense, the custard bun was fantastic – possibly the best dish of the meal.

But it probably would have been just as delicious if I’d been a little calmer about the decision.

Probably.

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Goal #23: Get involved in international volunteer work

When I listed this as a 27 goal, I didn’t have a set plan in mind. If pressed, I thought maybe I’d go somewhere for a week-long mission trip of sorts. And I’d probably go somewhere in Central or South America.

Somewhere relatively close, for a relatively short period of time.

Suffice it to say, I was a little off. And by a little, I mean by about 11 weeks and several thousand miles.

Because the current plan is this:

In roughly two months Husband and I will be leaving for a three-month volunteer stint with the Umbrella Foundation. In Nepal.

Photo credit: The Big Umbrella

We’ve both wanted to travel and volunteer, but it’s never been the right time – a common excuse. After reading Conor Grennan’s Little Princes (I can’t recommend it enough), we decided that we could make it the right time.

It was completely within our control to seize this opportunity and have our volunteering adventure.

So that’s what we’re doing.

We’ll be spending three months working with children who have been displaced, orphaned, or trafficked – living near them, sharing meals with them, organizing activities for them, and, undoubtedly, learning from them.

Part of the preparation for this volunteer work is, naturally, fundraising, which covers both volunteer and kid costs.

If you feel so inclined, please visit our fundraising page, where you can also learn a little more about the trip and the inspiration behind it. If not, that’s okay, too, but I still encourage you to read Little Princes if you get the chance.

It’s rare that I call a book life-changing, but for this one, I can’t think of a better way to describe it.

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The other side of a race

Up until now I’ve only seen races from the runner’s perspective. I wasn’t especially privy to all the behind-the-scenes organization and set-up.

That changed this weekend.

On Sunday I volunteered at the Girls on the Run 5k, with Heather, Kate, and MJ. We volunteered to help at the finish line – particularly with passing out the medals to the finishers. I can’t speak for all of us, but I know that I was thinking of how it felt to finish the Marine Corps Marathon and have that medal placed around my neck. I might not be a marine, and this might not have been a marathon, but there’s still an awesome sense of accomplishment for finishing a race, and I wanted the girls to feel that.

At the starting line

The first step to handing out the medals, however, was unwrapping them. Each medal had its own individual plastic wrapping, and there were roughly 1,000 medals.

Step two was figuring out where to stand to distribute them. Were we meeting the girls right at the finish? Were we funneling them toward the food and water? Were we a line across the course, or two receiving lines on either side? Honestly, I’m still not sure. We ended up in each of those places at one point or another.

The third (and arguably most important) step was identifying who got a medal. We’d first heard that it was just girls who were part of the GOTR program. Then it was all kids.  Then it was everyone. At the end of the day, we still had medals left over.

Part of what you don’t always see as a runner is the communication confusion among the volunteers. During our finish line stint, one race official told us one thing, another contradicted her. And then both changed their minds.

When all was said and done, though, the runners didn’t seem to notice the confusion. The girls got their medals and had huge smiles on their faces, even after sprinting to the finish.

They were so incredibly proud of themselves, and they had every right to be.

And that – plus seeing those final sprints – made any frustration from the confusion completely worth it.

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Goal #27: Set a new 10k PR

My previous 10k PR was from 2008, from the second race I’d ever done in my life. I ran the 6.2 miles in 56:16 and was fairly proud of myself (even though I really didn’t have anything to compare it to).

I expected to get faster, but subsequent 10ks were slower, and I started to feel that maybe I had already peaked. Maybe 56:16 would always be my fastest.

But after some recent PR success in other races, I figured it was about time to (try to) update the 10k, and began looking for a race in which to do it.

Enter Heather.

Through her blog, she alerted me to the Run for Shelter 10k, and I decided that now was as good a time as any to go for speed. As Husband has noted, I’m a slave to the weather, and fall is far and away my peak race season.

The race was billed as fairly flat, an easy out-and-back. The organizers also offered free parking and indoor facilities in which to wait for the race start. After many many races of waiting outside in the cold, this was a very welcome change.

My favorite part, however, was the size of the race. There were only 414 10k finishers. That means no weaving, jostling, or crowding on the course. It means that you can focus 100% on you.

Which is exactly what I did.

Aided by a few key running songs (these two are perfect) I pushed myself along, glancing every so often at Guillermo, to make sure we were on track.

My reward was a final time of 50:23, and a brand new shiny PR.

I also managed to finish in the top 10 (okay, #10) of my age group for the first time in…well, ever. So there’s that.

Bottom line: Saturday was the perfect combination of a well-organized race and ideal weather.

And I couldn’t have asked for better PR-setting conditions.

Heather’s far more photo-friendly recap is here.

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One of those days when padded shorts could have made all the difference

I don’t do a lot of research before I set my birthday goals. They’re kind of a gut decision – things I want to do, ideas I’ve had. That kind of thing.

So when I added “Take a bike ride out to Mount Vernon,” I wasn’t thinking of how far it was, I was thinking, A bike ride! That sounds lovely!

Turns out, it was beautiful, but I don’t know if I’d call it lovely.

You see, Mount Vernon is about 20 miles (a little more, as we found out) away from the apartment.

The longest ride I’d ever done was also about 20 miles – and that included a wipeout.

I did not think about these things in conjunction until we were already on our way to Mount Vernon.

Husband had done the Mount-Vernon-and-back trip before. He told me it would be about 40 miles total, but I must have just let that wash over me, not registering that 40 miles is SO FAR.

I was also anticipating that this would be more of a leisurely ride, where we would stop and rest and relax for a bit along the way. You know, no hurry to get to the end.

Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

But, for the first 10 miles or so, I was peachy. We rode down Rock Creek and picked up the Mount Vernon Trail. We passed the airport, which was as far as I’d been on that trail before, and ventured into new territory. And it really was beautiful.

We had a perfect day for riding and only minimal crowds on the trails, so we weren’t dodging people left and right.

Just after we passed under the Woodrow Wilson bridge, however, I started to feel it. We’d been riding for more than an hour, and my butt was beyond sore. If we’re being honest here, that whole general region was sore because my bike seat, while comfortable enough for a daily commute, was not built for use for hours at a time.

That, and I still haven’t bought padded bike shorts. And that’s on me.

Regardless, the next ten miles to Mount Vernon were filled with me alternatively shifting in my seat, cursing myself for this idea, and wondering how such a beautiful ride could be so painful.

But we made it.

 

I was stalling, trying to prolong getting back on the bike for the ride home, so we wandered around the visitor center for a bit, trying not to collide with the tour groups.

Eventually, we had to go. It was getting cooler and windier and, by that point, we both wanted to be home.

I’d be lying if I said the ride back was easy. It was still painful and made me appreciate the cushy-ness of our couch more than I ever have before.

But I did it. And now I know what 40 miles feels like.

And I know that if I ever want to do it again (which seems unlikely right now), padded shorts are a necessary investment.

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Sometimes you just need a little nudge in the right direction – or a shove

I have been on a running hiatus.

After becoming a Marathon Maniac, and riding the running wave through the end of the year, my body simply decided to stop. I became better acquainted with the elliptical, and kept the running to a minimum.

Which doesn’t exactly mesh well with my race goals from the 27 list.

Because to accomplish them, I actually have to register for races. And to be able to PR, I need to train for said races. And to train, I need to actually run with some regularity.

And at this point in time I really don’t feel like running on a regular basis if I’m not training for anything.

So it would seem we are at an impasse.

Or rather, that we were.

Because now…

In four and a half weeks I’ll be racing another half-marathon, gunning for a PR.

Husband and I signed up about a week ago, at the invitation/encouragement of Heather (who will be running as well).

I started training on Monday, and have so far completed a grand total of 1 run. Woo. Hoo.

That doesn’t leave a whole lot of time to get up to speed – especially if my training is limited to the treadmill.

And, let’s be honest, if the humidity keeps up, I’m not training outside.

But maybe – just maybe – this race will be the motivation I need to regularly slip back into my little running shorts and embrace my new, barely used (but very stylish) sneakers.

After all, isn’t the outfit what running’s all about?

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Swimmin’ with the fishes

When we signed up to go snorkeling on our honeymoon, I didn’t really think it through. I don’t know why, but in my mind we were just going to show up somewhere and get in the water – no boats necessary.

First timer over here.

In reality, we were about 30 people on the boat, getting ready to go out nine miles to the Molokini Crater.

And I should probably mention: I’m not so good on the water.

When I was much younger, I have a memory of being with my family on a boat – a very slow-moving almost ferry-like boat – and feeling sick. So I fell asleep on my dad’s lap to try to ignore it.

About 12 years ago – again as a family – we went on a cruise. Cruise ships are pretty big. Sometimes you can almost forget you’re out on the water. Unless you’re me.

I felt every dip and every swell, and was guzzling ginger ale (and virgin daiquiris) to combat the nausea.

With all that history, I think it’s clear that I overlooked the boat aspect of the snorkeling.

But that’s a good thing. If I had, I might have psyched myself out and missed out on one of the best honeymoon adventures that we had.

This does not do it justice. I’m a poor photographer, and those underwater cameras don’t mask that fact.

Yes, I was a little nauseous as we started moving. And super jealous of the kids that kept running around the deck without a second thought.

And once we got the snorkeling gear on, I was extremely nervous about jumping in the water. I wouldn’t be able to touch the bottom! There were fish! There was coral! What if I got water in my mask?! What if I touched some ocean life I wasn’t supposed to?

(Apparently even when I’m scared I’m worried about breaking the rules.)

I’m mid-jump here. And while most people kept one hand on the mask when they jumped, so it wouldn’t move, I kept two – one to keep it on, and one to cover the tube lest any water get in.

But once I jumped in and put my mask under water, all those worries disappeared.

The view was breathtaking and the water was calm (except for all the other snorkelers churning it up). It was anything but scary, even as we got farther and farther from the boat.

That’s not to say that suddenly I’m an ocean girl. I still like my beach time, reading and lounging in the sun.

But, after swimming with the fishes (and one turtle!), am I as scared of the ocean as I used to be?

Not a chance. And that’s definitely a step in the right direction.

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If my birthday list were a test, I would have failed

I didn’t do quite so well on the birthday list this year.

I’m proud of a few things, but others, like I mentioned, are a little harder to measure.

For instance, I don’t think I’ve turned into a bridezilla (#19), but would anyone really tell me if I had?

On the positive side, I have…

…planned the better part of my wedding (#5).

…kept track of restaurants, even if I haven’t made it to all of them on my list (#21).

…taken more pride in my personal appearance (#25). I still sometimes leave the apartment with wet hair, but I also bought some hot rollers and can now leave home with sexy curls. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

…minimized job complaints (#26). Maybe because I’m happier at work, or maybe because there’s only one person who truly gets my goat, but complaints are down significantly.

I’m kind of disappointed that I didn’t make the time for a Duck Tour (#13) or a DC United game (part of #24), but hopefully I’ll get to those by the end of the summer.

So I’m 18/26 with just the weekend to go. Not the best completion rate.

I do, however, still have about 72 hours to get my Duck Tour, stop judging and grudging (for real!), play golf, go to 4 different restaurants, and check out DC United.

Totally doable, right?

Right?

Okay. Maybe just the driving range, then.

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The one-month scramble

When I write out my birthday lists, a year always seems like plenty of time to do everything I want to do.

Then there’s one month left before my birthday and half the list still unchecked, and I remember that I’m a born procrastinator.

This year is no different. I’m scrambling on some things (Duck Tour, DC United), and missed the window on others (Colorado visit, Phillies playoffs *tear*). But there are also a few that I’m not quite sure how to evaluate, because they’re actually ongoing projects. Like these two:

17) Be slow to judgment.

18) Let go of old grudges.

I’ll be honest, #17 could be going better. I still judge. But am I slower to judgment than I used to be? Does progress count? I’d like to think it does. And I generally feel better when I’m less judge-y.

(Although, as I wrote that I remembered an extremely cathartic bitch session with a classmate about the rest of our class…so maybe it’s too soon for progress.)

Letting go of old grudges has been slightly more successful. It’s still an ongoing process (and I’m excluding sports grudges because, well, I just am), but it’s been freeing. But again, is it truly something I can just cross off, dust off my hands, and say, done with that?

The concrete things on my list, those I can check off (or push to next year). But the attitude adjustments, well, maybe that’s just a whole separate life list.

And you know me, I love a good list.

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Maybe my new Easter tradition will be learning something car-related

I have just over two months to complete my birthday list and, as usual, I seem to be letting things get down to the wire. So this past Easter weekend, in between celebrating, I checked two more things off my list.

1) I changed a tire! (Last year I learned to check the oil.)

Now, to be fair, I didn’t put the spare on – I just practiced taking off the current tire and putting it back on. That proved to be the hardest part, though, lining up the tire so I could reattach it.

BNF and my brother were coaching me along the whole way (with BNF also taking the photos), and then my parents came out to add their two cents as well. An audience of four isn’t quite the same as having to do this on the side of a busy highway, but it’s a start. And it’s more than I knew how to do before.

It’s safe to say that I was pretty proud of myself.

BNF told me to look tough. I tried, then couldn't help but laugh, resulting in the odd face in the photo.

2) I made empanadas!

When I try them again, there are a few things I’ll do differently, starting with finding (or making) a different dough. Due to lack of options I used Pillsbury, and it just wasn’t the same.

But once I got the baking time right, they were delicious!

Still not quite like my future mother-in-law’s, but I have plenty of time to practice.

I’m sure BNF won’t mind taste testing.

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