My goal for 2014 is to improve my swimming and biking, and complete the Double Mussel and REV3 Poconos 70.3 races. I'm in the process of moving from Rochester to Albany, and am looking forward to making some new friends!
I'm feeling pretty defeated right now. I'm ok writing that, because I know I'm not alone.
This winter has been cruel. The bitter cold temperatures have not only made it nearly impossible to be outside, but has made us all cranky and anxious.
We all know it's going to get better. One day a few weeks ago the weather broke. I ran 7 miles around downtown Albany and it felt amazing. But now running means a choice between the bitter cold, an endless moving belt or a dizzying indoor track.
But when it's so cold outside, getting up and out is a challenge. Being out in the cold takes it out of you, after making it home from work all you really want to do is curl up under a couple blankets and watch dumb television.
I'd like to write about how Musselman is in six months but... I just want to bum on my couch instead.
Taking screenshots of the weather is the thing to do.
It's cold out.
Warning: Do not read if you're sick of people whining about the cold.
Normally I put on a tough face when it comes to winter. I'll run in the rain and the snow. I'll bundle up and show up to races despite conditions. I'll admit to being a baby about extreme triple digit heat, but I've lived in Maine, Cleveland and Rochester. Winter I can do.
But today I'm crying uncle.
Uncle.
Normally I reliably get one or two colds a winter. That's throughout the entire thing, ya know, April or something like that. I'm currently on cold #3 (including my bronchitis bout.) It's January.
I'm down from work with less than half a voice, hacking up a storm and can't breathe. I pumped my heat up to 70, am huddled up under three blankets and I'm still freezing.
I'm mindlessly working on a database for work, but Scandal is my escape. And man, it's gotten good.
It's thrown off my routine because all I want is to be indoors. Every time I get into a good routine a cold spell hits and I get thrown off my game.
So winter, ease up a bit. Double digits. That's all I ask.
Happy 2014. Now that we're 20 days in I'm way belated in looking at the year ahead.
My big goal this year is to complete two half ironmans, the double Mussel and REV3 Poconos, with one of them under 7 hours. I also want to settle on a **gasp** full ironman to do in 2015, and volunteer this year for preferred entry. I'm between Mont Tremblant, which would be a cool trip, Lake Placid which is close to home, and Chattanooga, which is late in the year and benefits Crohns and Colitis.
Beyond that, no big goals, no New Years Resolutions that I'll no doubt abandon in a month. Instead, I wrote out three things I want to accomplish this week. My goal is to take one week at a time.
I'm taking the long-ramble-y approach to blogging today. Lots of stuff swirling around I've been meaning to put down. Actually I have about four unfinished drafts. I deleted all of them. Starting anew.
So, first, how are things going? Leaving Rochester was a tough decision, but overall the move to Albany has been positive. Living on Center Square suits me. I'm finding new haunts and getting better at that parallel parking thing. The job is great, I'm learning a lot, and I've met some really great people.
But, I fell of the wagon. I fell out of shape with the move and put on a few pounds that I'd like to get off. After Christmas, it was basically one excuse after another. Not that some weren't valid. Starting a new job is always taxing, and as awesome as tri training can be, the day job must always come first. Plus, getting my apartment together was a chore in itself. Crippling single digit temperatures (we did dodge the polar vortex) and a couple snowstorms did not help the situation.
Once you're off, it is so hard to get back on.
I thought about running after work for days and ultimately it didn't happen. The first thing that finally got me off my lazy butt was so entirely random, but you can't argue with what works. After it played on a loop while I was curled up in my favorite Lark Street coffee shop/hiding spot, I ended up on a Death Cab for Cutie kick. Most of their music is perfect for winter, lethargic yet cozy at the same time. But as I'm at work with my head in a database Spotify pulls up this gem:
My normal not-being-a-fan-of-dance-remixes aside, all I wanted to do was run to this. So, after work, I did. That was the first push I needed.
The second push came when I was in the middle of something and my Facebook starts blowing up. Who are the morons who included me in their frantic conversation, breaking my concentration?
Tara, Allison and Kim!!!!!!!!!!! Yay! (You are welcome to distract me anytime.)
The first thing that came up when I Google imaged "happy dance".
Our previous Facebook conversations had ceased. My initial plan had been to run a race sometime this winter somewhere in New York with these ladies, but while I was in laid-off-no-money-land the race sold out. (Sad face.)
As I was busy not-running, though, I secretly thought "I am sure glad I'm not on the hook for a (longer race) right now."
But as I quickly discerned from the back and forth I was sneaking glances at while pretending to pay attention to something else, Kim had a conflict and couldn't make the race. There are no bib transfers, so somebody needed to pretend to be Kim.
I think I can look like a Kim.
Hence my vagueness on the race, which will be revealed after "Kim" runs this longer race somewhere in New York sometime this winter.
I was a little nervous that I couldn't run like a Kim though. I've been slacking. But Saturday I pulled out (half the race distance) on my own. If I can pull out (a longer run) then (an even longer run) I should be ok. Not fast. But able-bodied enough to crawl across the finish line.
Sad Kim can't make it, but I'm so excited to catch up with my other Rochester friends!
The second thing that came up when I Google-imaged "happy dance".
Then my third motivation, which actually came before the second but I was more excited about that so I wrote about it first. I joined the Capitol District Triathletes! There hasn't been a lot of club activity, it is January, but it's a very big and very active group that I'm convinced will serve me well as it warms up and I'm looking for long distance bike routes and places to swim.
So, I'm feeling better. I swam and lifted today. I feel like I have something that resembles a plan.
On Facebook today, my former Democrat and Chronicle colleagues are posting their recounts of Christmas Eve 2012 and the tragedies that happened in West Webster. I will follow suit.
It was a day that was hard to forget.
That morning I figured I was in for an easy day at work and thought I could sleep in a bit. Then I checked my phone and leapt out of bed, barely took time to put myself together and went to the office. I saw the footage of smoke streaming up over Lake Ontario on the various TVs as I headed into the building.
As we'd later find out, a man named William Spengler had killed his sister, set the house ablaze and waited to ambush first responders. Two were killed. Two were injured.
"Don't take your coat off," my editor said when I got to the fourth floor. Beats aside, all hands on deck, I was going to Webster.
I stood out in the cold for several hours with the other reporters trying to gauge what was up before I was tasked with community reaction. Normally we were a chatty, social bunch but today things were tense and worried.
I went to a Webster bar. Instead of catching up and blowing off steam from shopping and cooking, people sat quietly around the tables, jumping and crowding around the television whenever a reporter cut in.
It had gotten late in the newsroom and people were working hard on a day they should have been cutting out early. Very apologetically, I was asked to cover the vigil back in Webster. I assured them I didn't mind, I had celebrated Christmas with my family a week earlier, but it was still hard standing there knowing those outside the fire house surely would rather be doing something else on Christmas Eve, but felt a pressing need to be there instead.
The fire chief hadn't planned on making a statement, but seeing the overwhelming crowd he came out, but barely choked out a few words.
One week later I covered the funeral of Tomasz Kaczowka, a 19-year-old who had volunteered for duty that day. Firefighters from across the state and beyond came to honor him.
Once again, I've been a bad blogger. Life has been moving in fast-forward since I moved here, I feel like I blinked and the move, my birthday and the NYC trip went past, and I'm realizing it's probably about time to buy some Christmas presents.
(I still have 7 days. #plentyoftime.)
So here are some random notes from the past few weeks:
Since I moved here, I've gotten exactly one run in. Part of that's by design, since I'm not training for anything at the moment, I might as well put my expendable energy into getting my apartment together. I'm getting close. Amazon is delivering a table. I just need a couch.
Bronchitis is singlehandedly the worst thing on the planet. I reliably get a cold-flu-sinus thing when the seasons change, and two weeks ago after being a little sniffly I thought I had gotten off easy. But the next week I'm sitting in a hearing in New York City and my nose won't stop running. I limp through the rest of my trip, go home then later end up in urgent care. The next three days become a haze of falling in and out of drug induced naps as Despicable Me plays on a loop in the background. Thank you, Redbox.
Do I love New York? I haven't been since 2008, but I spent a couple days there last week. Knowing my superior sense of navigation, I was quite proud of myself for not getting lost on the subway system. I generally don't love crowded places, but the energy was fun. Plus getting to finally meet many of my coworkers was wonderful. Next time I go, though, I'd prefer it to be a few degrees warmer, and you know, not be coming down with bronchitis.
I guess I'm 30 now. Doesn't really feel any different. Plus I'm no longer competing with all the speedy 20-somethings at races. Yea. #brightside.
About the job. After almost two months, I'm finally starting to settle in. I work in New York's capital building in a small windowless area with all the other reporters. Our four-person (we're adding a fifth soon) office functions well, it's a good and talented team. In between my immediate colleagues and the New York City office there's a lot of passion for what we do, and it's exciting to work in such an environment. I'm excited for the hustle and bustle of the legislative session.
And the apartment. It still has a ways to go, but I'm enjoying where I'm living. I ordered a kitchen table online, so next I need a couch, then a TV. Brandy dog is relieved that there are no tile floors, which she has trouble walking on.
My neighborhood is Center Square in Albany, and my apartment is a half mile away from work. Living on Lark and State is great, everything is so close. The dogs love walking through Washington Park. I realized the downside of street parking with the snowstorm this weekend, but fortunately the job comes with a parking spot, so I've been leaving the car at work so I don't have to deal with it.
I found a new coffee shop. In Rochester, I lived at Boulder Coffee Company. Here my place of choice is The Daily Grind, right near my apartment. I'm dangerously addicted to their lattes.
When it's time to move, two things always come to mind: The #AnniesMove episode of Community, and this cartoon from Hyperbole and a Half.
Annie's Move, well, just because it's hilarious. The Community gang destroys Annie's old apartment above a porn store as they move her in with Troy and Abed where -- SPOILER ALERT (seriously if you haven't seen the episode by now...) her room is revealed to be a blanket fort. They tweet the whole thing, which is how Jeff gets busted for faking illness and going to the mall instead where the dean blackmails him into hanging out, and Shirley and Britta pick up an interesting passenger.
In the Hyperbole and a Half post, the author, in great detail, describes her dogs' complex and not-so-complex emotions as they move.
The characterizations of "simple dog" and "helper dog" fit my two to a T. Lizzie is "simple dog." She's fairly intelligent, independent and carefree. She doesn't let things bother her until they really bother her, then she breaks down into a bundle of nerves.
The first canine breakdown came when I brought her home from the sitters. I had taken a carload of stuff, packing the car after I dropped them off, and when she came home, she paced around the house, looking for all the missing things.
Then she stopped. Her eyes got wide. Her ears pointed. Like she just remembered something really important. She rummaged around her crate, emerged with her tail wagging, prized green ball in her mouth. We tossed it around, and all was well with the world again.
It squeaks.
The next week it happened again. I was packing and Lizzie was hanging out, unphased. Then someone came to buy my dresser. This was her tipping point.
As the strangers carried my dresser out the door, she started whining, and it didn't cease for 15 minutes. I tried petting her, coaxing her, feeding her, nothing worked. She finally laid down on my bed. I sat down next to her, talked to her like an adult, and promised her everything was fine.
Oh, Lizzie.
I scratched her ears for awhile. Then she suddenly jumped up, rummaged around her crate, again emerged with her ball, and all was well again.
While Lizzie is having her ups and downs, Brandy has settled into the role of "helper dog".
Brandy is a quiet, shy girl, and gets startled easily. Unlike the dog in the cartoon though, she didn't pick up on the fact that her environment was changing.
Until Lizzie had her first panic attack.
While Lizzie recovered, Brandy hasn't wanted to be alone. She gets anxious when I leave, and when I get back. She hoovers over me when I'm packing. She freaked out when I moved the couch.
My landlord was showing prospective tenants my apartment. When I go running, Lizzie and Brandy take turns lapping around Corn Hill with me. One tenant showed up early, Lizzie was with me, Brandy was at home.
Steve described her reaction when the strangers walked into the house: "She was like, umm, I don't know if you're supposed to be here and I don't know if I'm supposed to do something about it." So she stayed on the couch and watched intently.
Lizzie wears her emotions on whatever the canine version of a sleeve is. Brandy is harder to read, and I can't tell the difference between her worried look and her "feel bad for me and let me on the couch" look.
The Brandy look.
Either way, our lives will return to normal soon enough.
There's a communal thing going on in social network land that's been around for awhile, and not going away anytime soon: A minor addiction called Candy Crush Saga.
I normally resist the Facebook crazes. I refused to change my profile picture to a giraffe. I never posted 5 or 7 or 10 or 25 things about me. And I never played games, until now. I was that person who silently cursed that Facebook friend I haven't talked to in years who would send me daily invites to FarmVille. I never played Angry Birds.
I'm not quite sure what made me pick up Candy Crush Saga. Possibly the perpetual ads on Facebook or friends announcing their achievements. I think I was just bored one night. The latest news is that the game has reached 500 million downloads.
I'm one of them. At first I'd sigh reluctantly. "Yes, I'm one of those people. A candy crusher."
But, as I played through the levels, I grew to appreciate it. It's a very good game. We'll get to why in a minute. But first my one major criticism: It does try to trick you into Facebook spamming your friends. Sorry about that. But there's a way to block it. So hide all requests from Candy Crush and get over it.
I've been on a roll lately, passed about 20 levels in a week. But I think my streak has come to an end. Enter Level #254, you have to line up two disco balls or whatever they're called, together. I have yet to get close.
First, it's a game for intelligent people. You need smarts to make it through. Especially in the later levels, you have to think strategically and think ahead. But it's also a game of chance, you don't know what candy will come from the top.
Some people like to say the game uses the science of deprivation. I like to think it looks out for my best interests. You can only play five lives at a time, then you have to wait a half hour for another one. So, it's impossible to kill hours, instead you just make slow progress. This also makes it last so you don't get sick of it.
It's free. You can pay if you want to, and I'll admit that I've thrown King, the game's maker, a few bucks. At first I didn't want to bug my friends to get to the next episode so I payed to unlock the first few (but then realized everyone else was doing it so what the heck.) I'll also confess, I was stuck on a level for weeks, the move was one away, and I paid for extra moves. It befuddles me to think people spend hundreds of dollars on the game, I guess it feeds a gambling addiction. But I've gotten a lot of entertainment from the game, and the $4 or $5 I've shelled out is not a big price to pay.
It encourages interaction with people. Real, live people. Well, on Facebook, anyway. Every 15 levels, you can either pay $1 or find three Facebook friends to send you a train ticket. As you go through the levels, you can see how your friends have scored and what level they are one. Sometimes they send you lives. I consider a life played that came from a friend good karma for the level.
The game seems to sense when I'm getting frustrated with a level, because at some point the right pieces will magically fall into place. Normally I'll play all five lives before bed, but if I'm getting sick of a level that will slow to once or twice, or none at all. I'm sure there's a probability factor at play, but that disco ball-striped combo that saves the day always seems to come when I'm getting frustrated enough to quit.
So well done, King, and please send a double disco ball soon to get me out of Delicious Drifts.
I've been splitting my time between Albany and Rochester. My Albany days are consumed by the drive, hitting the road before dawn, spending the night, then coming back around 9 or 10 p.m. the next day. On the road I've been playing the license plate game. I have six states left: Hawaii, West Virginia, Wyoming, South Carolina, North Dakota and Nevada.
While I'm in Rochester, every moment I'm not working, I'm cleaning, packing or running around town dealing with the logistics of the move.
I'm in Rochester through the weekend. Most everything is done now, so I can finally relax a bit.
As I'm shuttling back and forth, I've written a dozen blog posts in my head, only to find myself too exhausted when I get home to get them in type.
So here's a potpourri of sorts, little things that have been floating around in my head that I've been anxious to get down.
ON ROCHESTER
Rochester
(Cross posted from Capital New York's anticipations, coming out Friday)
After college, I lived in a series of small towns. Then one day I'm sitting at my desk in Newark, Ohio (somewhere between Columbus and I-77) when Len, a former editor and mentor, called me up and told me about an opportunity in Rochester, New York.
Rochester was my first experience in a bigger city, getting to be a young professional in a place with a culture of young professionals. I have loved living there: The unique neighborhoods, the culture, the recreation, the friends I've made.
It's my last weekend in the Roc, and I have a long list of "lasts" I'd like to get in: Last run around the South Wedge and Park Avenue, last dog walk around Corn Hill, last trip to the public market, last drink at Tap and Mallet, last cup of loose leaf tea at Boulder Coffee Company.
I'm going to dodge weekend Pittsford traffic, where I'll give Rochester's beloved grocery chain Wegmans a sizable portion of my paycheck to stock up on some of their more unique goodies, have another eyes-bigger-than-stomach moment at the Food Bar and grab a couple cases of Finger Lakes vino from Century Pittsford Wines.
