I got my "letter of  non-acceptance" from Chicago this weekend. I’m a little upset about it but not entirely surprised, given that getting into any MFA program is extremely competitive, and Chicago is in the top 3 programs in the country. Still, it was my first choice, and I felt like I really belonged there with respect to how they run their program, their art & technology focus, etc.

On the plus side (unless I get in somewhere else out of state, which is also unlikely): I don’t have to sell my condo for sure. I don’t have to leave Rob for 2 years. I can stay more involved with Lowell and Open Studios, and the wonderful artists who live here. I can keep running along the Charles, and I can keep hanging out with my running peeps.

On the negative side (on which I am trying very hard not to focus): I didn’t get in. I might not get in anywhere, and then what? I am having a lot of doubt about my abilities and focus as an artist. The process for doing this is long, and hard, and I’m not sure I will be able to go through it again next year.

Acutally, the more I think about it, I am sort of glad to know that this particular door has closed. I wasn’t totally thrilled with the idea of moving to Chicago for only 2 years, and I am hoping I get into BU or Mass Art instead. Or do something with the museum studies program at Harvard, or maybe look into the Vermont College MFA that Jodi is doing. I guess I have a lot of time left to wait and see what happens, but maybe an MFA isn’t in the cards right now. I dunno.

Wow, this post is just a jumble of thoughts and not particularly well organized. Sorry.
Thank goodness I have Spinning tonight, is all I’m saying. :)

4.25 miles on the mill today, .25 mile cool down walk, some stretching. My ass is sore, but other than that, it was pretty uneventful. Meh.

I finally felt like I had a good run after many, many weeks of feeling lousy, so that was a welcome change. Also welcome was that there was no one at the Y, making it cooler in there. Sadly, I didn’t see my buddy George, a runner from back in the day, who is 83 now. He is awesome, and even though he’s stopped running (bad knees, he says), he gives me lots of encouragement. I just love him to pieces.

Rob and I cleaned and did laundry at my house, watched the BC and Seton Hall game for a while, and then we headed down to his house, stopping at Bella Ravioli  to pick up the most amazing fresh spinach ravioli on the planet for dinner. Damn, that shit is good.

Anyway, I suppose I should finish this 100% boring post and help him make dinner, or at least help with the salad. One thing, one thought, I just wanted to add – I cannot wait for spring. Longer days, running with Rob along the river, and then a ravioli dinner? Pure heaven.

Tomorrow? Probably a 30:00 run and 30:00 swim. That’s what I"m hoping for anyway.
Night all.

Har har. Just kidding. It’s about food and running. Suckers!

So last night I worked until 8 or so, thus skipping the gym. Ironic (see the link to Runner’sWorld online in the previous post), considering that I have only run once this week, yes-sir-ee.

Anyway, I spent the evening talking to one of my imaginary, online, running friends about emotional eating, and she said, “you know, it’s so true. If you don’t buy it, you won’t eat it.”

To which I replied, “DUH,” and then jammed a cookie in my mouth.
Hey, I was out of ice cream.

Later, while looking for some milk to wash down said cookie, I spent a few minutes perusing my refrigerator, just trying to locate the milk, because there is a crapload of stuff in there, and did a quick inventory.

It was not pretty.

Did you know that I have 4 different kinds of mustard, and 5 kinds of salad dressings? And that there was half a carrot cake in there? And that I have leftover Halloween candy? Stuff I don’t even like, kept in there, just in case of a PMS emergency? Well I do. And I need help.

As I launched my assault, the cat thought it was dinner time again, so he circled around and begged for food from the fridge, while a pile amassed on the counter. My inner monologue went something like this, just so you get the full picture:

“Crap. What the hell is that? When did I buy those? Do BacOs expire? Apparently they do… in 2003. CRAP!!!!!” And so on.

I hauled out tons of stuff. Most of it crap. Or scary. Like old scary. ::shudder:: It was a real awakening, because up until then, I would generally classify my diet as “mostly healthy.” But seeing the Halloween candy, and the Lindt truffles, AND the tube of cookie dough (also qualifying under the Emergency Provisions Act of 2005), I was forced to take a second look. And look I did. Then I moved on to the pantry for more of the same.

In the middle of the purge, I felt a sense of clarity and calm. The unopened canned and box goods I put aside for a food bank donation. And some of the frozen or refrigerated stuff I put in a bag to bring to work, which the savengers will appreciate. Slowly I began to organize things. Paring down is cool. So is being in control of what you eat. Woohoo, and stuff.

It was then that my mind went wild. I began concocting elaborate scenes where I walked past the ginormous sheet cake at work, barely acknowledging its presence, before turning on my heel and exiting the room in a dramatic fashion. Ha ha ha, I say! Take that, stupid cake! Or the one where I go to the store and don’t buy french vanilla granola in bulk. That’s a good one, too.

And so I passed the evening.

This morning I had some oatmeal with a little PB in it, and an orange. I jammed my running gear into my backpack, and lo, the skies brightened, and the coffee brewed, and it was good. Yes, it was.

Her article in Runner’s World was published on their online site! Click here to read it, then visit her site and congratulate her.

Way to go, Dianna. And thanks for mentioning “Lifetimes.” :)

Damn, it has snowed a lot this year… and I couldn’t be more elated. That sounds so odd, coming out of my mouth, but it is so. Further evidence of this strangeness came as I was writing an email to my friend Rachel the other day, and typed this:

"…I am reading a lot of books about the Appalachian Trail, and planning my summer packpacking trips. The really funny thing, and I should write about this online, is how all of this outdoors stuff has changed my art, and changed me as a person. My work is so landscape based now, and I have made peace with that. In doing so, it’s made me realize what an outdoorsy kind of person I am, and how athletic I am, which comes as a shock to someone who was always picked last in gym class."

In my 30s, I feel as if I am reinventing myself as this fit, athletic person, and this new skin feels so good on me. I am excited about things like snow, mud, lichen and rocks – about wind, and ridgelines, and sweat. I love to put on sunscreen, talk about important topics such as chafing and hydration, and look for new places to get under the cover of trees, or onto the back roads. I have almost mastered peeing in the woods while standing up. It is both impressive and scary at the same time.

And yet, I don’t feel that this is entirely a major switch in my interests or true sense of self. It’s merely a resurrection of what has been hidden away since childhood.

Before I learned (i.e. was told) that I wasn’t any good at sports, I felt totally comfortable biking all over the neighborhood, looking under rocks for bugs, collecting Indian arrowheads in the woods, climbing trees, swimming in ponds, and shooting baskets in the driveway. I just wasn’t much good at throwing and catching, or running fast. Nor did I have an interest in the concept of winning, which made me a big loser in gym class. And we all know what happens to the kids who are picked last. This, more than anything, really locked me into a way of thinking about myself that has influenced my life and behavior with regard to health and fitness.

But that’s all over and done with. This morning I IMed with Dianna about the Tri I am attempting to talk her into doing with me, I double checked the weather forecast and threw my snowshoes into the trunk,  and I packed my daypack (which also serves as my gym bag) with the stuff I need to bring to Spinning tonight. In a very short time (2 years this March – when I started running), I have come a long way.

Another noticible change is the sense of fellowship I feel with
other runners, triathletes, and hikers – and what a contrast it is to
the relationship I have with artists, my other influencial peer group. That is not to say that I
don’t have wonderful artist friends. It’s just that it is much harder
to bond with them, whereas with runners, especially female runners,
it’s so much more natural and quick-moving. It’s amazingly friendly,
actually. Maybe it is the amount of time and engery artists spend trying to differentiate themselves. Or something.

I can’t really put my finger on it, but it is something to think about today, while I’m out in the woods on this snowy holiday. Then I have spinning tonight at 6:30. Gah.

Okay, off to the woods. Here I go. Brrr.

This week has been pretty uneventful, truth be told. Monday, I basically rested and started re-reading my copy of Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, which always, always, always makes me want to lace up my hiking boots and head out to the Appalachian Trail in western Mass.

Tuesday I worked from home, went to the library at lunch and checked out some more backpacking books, and travelogues about the AT (Kelly Winters’s The Walk Home, and Adrienne Hall’s The Journey North). Had my special 90 minute spin class Tuesday night, which was great, except that I was unknowingly coming down with some kind of stomach bug, and felt like I was about to hurl afterwards.

I hadn’t eaten much that day – all super healthy food, but not enough for a long class like that. Looking back, I should probably have had a 50/50 gatorade/water mix instead of 100% water during class. But no, I am dumb. When I finally got home, I was fighting that urge to puke feeling while I cooked up some plain egg noodles (which is about all I felt I could eat), then finally just gave in and let it go. Not much there – mostly water and some dried cranberries (ewwwww) – but it was enough to make me feel about 90% better. Ate my noodles, drank 32oz of gatorade and went to bed.

Yesterday I called in sick and just stayed in bed, reading Winters’s book, cover to cover. She hiked the AT mostly alone, as a way to discover who she was (her sexual identity, primarily) after a particularly painful breakup, and made it all the way to Maine before realizing she didn’t need to finish. She gives particularly vivid accounts of her mishaps along the way, the struggle and determination that is thru-hiking – elements that were dealt with in all seriousness – a stark contrast from that of Bryson’s book.

Winters hiked 1800 miles of the AT, all in one go, and essentially alone. She met up with people along the way, but for at least half of her journey she was by herself. She did some blue (side trail) and yellow (hitchhiking) blazing, certainly, but mostly she stuck to the trail and was out there for almost 6 months. Bryson (and his travelling companion, Katz) bailed out in Virginia after skipping a significant portion of Tennessee, and then hiked portions of the trail in the remaining states, mostly as 1 – 3 day trips. A few days into Maine, they bail on that too and come home. Bryson’s grand total: 870 miles.

Another significant contrast to the books, apart from the major stylistic differences, was the motivation behind the authors’ journeys, or, in the case of Winters, “pilgrimage” would be the most appropriate word. Bryson undertook the hike mostly to discover a part of America that few people ever know, while Winters began her trip as a vision quest, of sorts. It will be interesting to read Hall’s account of the journey, which from what I could gather from the book jacket, was in the company of her boyfriend.

There is plenty of technical information in both books: from Bryson we learn about the history of the trail, the state of affairs in our nation’s forests, impacts of acid rain, blights, etc.; and from Winters we learn more about preparing to hike (i.e. training), the types of plants available on the trail for our own uses, and more about technical aspects of camping, all intertwined with the story.

By all accounts, thru-hiking is, to put it mildly, hard. I can only imagine what it’s like to sleep on the ground or in basic shelters for 6 months, to endure enless rain and snow storms, wind, and even tornados. To carry 40 – 50 lbs of gear, food, and yourself, up and down mountains, over, and over, and over. To remove yourself from mainstream society for half a year. But more than that, to have the mental and emotional strength to keep it together for that long in the wilderness. That is the truly amazing part of these accounts.

Anyway, I’m not planning on thru-hiking, but I would like to get some time on the trails this summer. Maybe a couple of overnights and whatnot in western MA, or in VT, where the AT and the Long Trail overlap. It’s beautiful country out there, and it seems such a shame to not be out there in it, getting dirty, seeing the stars, pulling your own weight, as I like to say.

What a wonderful day to be alive. Picture this – 5" of powder, warm sunlight, the smell of pine trees and mountain air, and new friends, human and canine.

Or better yet, just look:

View from the top

The group (taken by me)

The group (that’s me in the red hat, in the back)

The way down

After the hike, which was shorter than anyone expected (I guess we hauled ass up the mountain), we broke out the peppermint schnapps & hot chocolate, the vegetarian chili, and gingersnap  cookies. Alas, no bourbon. :)

Finally, after a few hours around the table, with the light fading, I headed home for a hot shower, and some quality time under the throw blanket. It was a great day, and I’m not even tired!

I could have easily done that hike twice because I am a badass. Heheheh.

RBF, I wish you could have been with us. Anytime y’all want to come to New England and snowshoe, let me know.  And Lara, I’m so, so jealous that your husband grew up in that area of NH. It is so beautiful.

Ugh. Wednesday’s run/elliptical workout was awful. I managed 30 minutes on the mill (short tempo run, but only pushed it slightly faster in the middle), and 20 minutes on the elliptical before I started to feel ill and had to stop. Thursday I did some weights and pushups at home. Yesterday I did nothing, and I fell asleep watching Hockey East at 8:30, and slept in until 8:00 this morning. Something was definitely off.

I feel like I’ve turned a corner, however.  All of the heaviness in my limbs and head is gone, and I’m excited to go to  my class today.  In addition to feeling physically crappy, I’ve been very, very depressed for the last week or so.  It’s hard to pinpoint the source of this unhappiness, but I think it’s a combination of feeling sick, waiting to hear from graduate schools, feeling fat, and hating my job. Basically it’s all about lack of control. Anyway, I am no longer wallowing, that’s the main thing.

Tomorrow I am headed up to Peterborough, NH for some snowshoeing with Jill and friends… and dogs. I guess everyone is bringing their dog to hike the mountain with us. I think we will have 4 or 5 women and at least 3 dogs on our little adventure. I am in charge of bringing  trail mix, and cookies for after the hike. To go with the hot chocolate and the bourbon, don’tcha know. 

Rob is not coming snowshoeing tomorrow, unfortunately. He’s sick, and obviously not up to a 3+ hour hike.  He might be up to a shot of bourbon, however. Heheh.

Thanks for all your kind works and healthy vibes, RBF. :)

Just a quick check in to let you all know that I’m not dead. I feel like I’m dead, but that’s entirely different.

Didn’t do anything last weekend except work, sleep, and go to my drawing class…. oh, and cook for, and watch the friggin’ Super Bowl. Then I started to get sick.

I think the worst of it is over, but I am just so, so tired. I’m also feeling really depressed about my art right now, too. It’s not a good combination.

This evening I have to pick up my car from its service appt, then head to the gym. This inactivity is making me crazy, I think.

Anyway, I’ll write more later on, when I get done running, or whatever it is I’m going to do tonight.

So it’s like this. We have a marketing launch that no one is prepared for (Monday! Hellloooooo, people!). Content that is being written at the last minute. A review of the staging site by the executive team at 4:00. Everything is half-assed AND half-done. Our new CEO started, so of course everyone is all “I love my job. Go team.” My commute has been 1.5 hours on the way in and almost equally shitty on the way home, every day so far this week. To make matters worse, I have been working until 8:00 pm for the last 2 nights.

I am losing my frigging mind.

On Monday, however, the insanity should stop. In the meantime, no gym, bare minimum of eating, and lots of sleep – just to escape, anything to escape this work nonsense. I was seriously considering hitting the gym last night, but it was 9:00pm when I got near the Y and I hadn’t even had dinner or anything. I was starving and exhausted, and while running might have made me feel better, I didn’t relish the idea of making dinner at 10. Jeez.

The one good thing about all of this is that I know I am making the right decision about leaving the corporate world, at least in high tech, which is all I’ve really known for the last 7 years. Before that it was agency life, which is fine, but not really that interesting to me either. Anyway, I know that academia is no picnic, but at least there’s a mission to it that one can get behind. And the business model, market position, etc. doesn’t change every 6 months.

I am sooooo not a team player right now. I’m pissed off, cynical, and defeated, honestly. But the good news is that the weather is supposed to be warm this weekend. I am going to try to run outside on Saturday morning before my class, and maybe again on Sunday, before the superbowl. If not, it’s the pool. Whatever, I don’t care, as long as I do something.

Anyway, that’s it. My time is up. I probably won’t post until the weekend, so have a good one, y’all.