annieology

I am not a morning person.  I regularly get up in the morning, but only out of obligation and tradition.  To me, getting up at 8 a.m. and getting up at 5 a.m. are equally annoying, but getting up at 5 gives me a sense of being better than the rest of the world. Running a 5K on top of getting up at 5 just intensified that feeling.

Having had to deal with myself my entire life, I have learned a few key things. First, Night Time Annie is a saboteur.  She stays up entirely too late, chatting with friends, watching TV, having a ball.  She doesn’t care because Morning Annie will deal.  Usually, Morning Annie deals a bit better when Night Time Annie has prepared a few key elements.  So Night Time Annie had set out the running clothes, the shoes, found the keys, and set aside some band-aids to go where that toenail used to be.

I got my hot self ready and moved on to the most important meal of the day.  Because in the last month I’ve learned that 3 miles sucks on an empty stomach.  So what did this discerning athlete have to fuel her day? A Coke (shut up) poured over ice to eliminate as much carbonation as possible taken on an empty stomach to fast track the caffeine and sugar. A Vitamin Water (shut up) with Chia.  For all you VW haters at least one of the ingredients is not blue unlike all that G-ade they were giving away at the park.  Added Chia because it retains water so I don’t have to.  Also had an egg.  Protein without the bulk.

Headed to the park and arrived at the appointed time, proving once again that Tech Support and I have been together for a LONG time.  Judging by the competition that had arrived I should start now and let them catch up and still finish before me.  Luckily, hundreds of others would soon follow and I could be lost in the crowd, again feeling superior that I had arrived early and was not waiting in the super long chip timer line.

Everyone had their iPods and what not.  I had chosen to leave mine in the car.  Not to focus on split times, distance covered, play lists and what not.  Of course it didn’t take long for me to question that decision, I did not have a buffer which was well outside of my comfort zone.  I attached my timing tag and went to eavesdrop on others’ conversations.

Two guys were discussing whether they should run this 5K at the half marathon pace or 5K pace.  I listened to them discuss their weekly running schedule and what times they expected.  I understood all the words they said.  That made me feel like a runner.  A lady started chatting with me.  She was much cooler, younger and skinnier than me.  She had run a few 5K’s and her goal was to actually run the whole thing.  I assessed that she would probably kick my ass, but took comfort in her obsessing.

When it was time to line up, I took a spot in the middle figuring that the people up front wanted their gun time and chip time to match perfectly.  Spent the next four minutes listening to Barbie talk about how long her legs were and how she was capable of walking at a pace most people run at.  We’ll see.  Also picked out a few people I was not going to let beat me.  Jack Jack for one, he was a ball of energy, but I figured he’d fade fast.

And then there was no more avoiding it.  The race had begun.

I had walked the course the day before and had game planned the best course of action for me based on my TWO runs outside this summer and having done all my training in a climate controlled room on a treadmill.  Almost immediately out of the starting gate is a very long hill.  During my walk I had decided it would be best to walk that hill.  Yes, run 40 seconds then walk for two minutes.   Peer pressure almost got the best of me.  But I was strong in my decision to walk.  By the time I reached the top of the hill and started running all fresh and whatnot, I was passing people left and right.  Tired people.  The rest of the first mile was easy, and having reached the mile marker I realized I had yet to see the front of the back begin to double back yet.  Which was awesome because I figured they were running a 6 minute pace (which they were) meaning even with a walk my first mile was better than a 12.  I even made it past the 2 mile sign (on the opposite side of the course) before I started encountering the first wave.

Without the distraction of my music, splits, time elapsed and whatnot I focused on how I felt.  I just felt like running.  It was a gorgeous morning.  The sun had started coming up over the bay and there was a bit of a breeze.  As people started doubling back I noticed a lot of very tall men, skinny girls and a couple of kids.  I saw my fellow obsessor but had not yet seen Barbie double back.  Then I noticed her about 50 feet in front of me.  I began to wonder if her guestimation in herself of 27 minutes was incorrect or if I was totally kicking ass.  Either way,  it kept me going.  After I turned around I walked for a bit then set my sights on something in the distance and decided that I could run til I got there, which I did and kept going.  Deciding to push through until the hill, which I once again walked.

It was here I encountered the group of walkers.  Hah! I was right,  Jack Jack ended up in a stroller.  When I felt like running, I quickly reminded myself that running the hill was not in the plan and it would wear me out faster than I could run it.  When I got to the top I kicked it into gear, Barbie still right in front of me.  I was convinced that her 27 minute estimation in herself was wrong.  Just hoping my time would be under 40.  As my LASIK enabled eyes got a glimpse of the timer it turned over to 36:00.  Really?  That was way better than I had assessed for my first finish.  Yay me.  I pushed the last minute hoping to beat the clock to 37 – which I did not.  Final time: Gun 37:06 Chip 36:52

Barbie beat me by less than 30 seconds.

But I was happy with my result.  I had run a majority of it.  I had stuck to MY plan.  I had run faster than my training pace and yet had enough left to finish strong.

Woody Allen once said “80% of success is showing up.”  I found this to be true.  It was much harder to get to the race than it was to finish it.  I could have used the excuse that I had stayed up too late, or not ran outside, or knowing I was unable to run the hills, not run any of it.  The people cheering for the first wave of runners were cheering for me just as enthusiastically.  Despite the medals being given out indicating who in the group had finished first we were all there racing the same person.   Ourselves.

The kids are in school which means I can go back to drinking during the day.

Except not.

I don’t drink during the day.

Yet.

Since I am at a cross roads, I need to figure out my life.  This is the first time, ever, in the history of Annie that there has not been a preschooler in the house.  EV. ER.

So basically I need to stay away from babies.

Which I was doing.  Until this morning when I happened upon the stroller walking club.  Yes, that’s right.  20 women and their strollers with little people in said strollers.  And me, with neither a stroller nor a little person.  So, as they were gathering around I stopped and said “I feel as if I’ve forgotten something.” At which point I was informed this group is for “registered members and their children only”.  So, let me get this straight.  I now have to register to walk in the park with my baby? And probably also pay?

F and also Q!  Walking in the park with your baby should be free.

Earlier this week we had dinner with one of our born of the heart babies whom we had not seen in five years when foster care people removed him and his siblings from our home.  Guess what?  He’s not in jail.  Not a terrorist.  Not a lot of things that you said he was destined to be.  He’s awesome.  That being said, I hope that the last five years are the only five years I miss out on.  Because while you cannot define our relationship on paper and there is no box to check, he is my baby, born of my heart.

So F and also Q foster care people.  You don’t know everything.

Also

as you know I’m training for half marathons.  The physical aspect of it all is going well.  The mental however, I’m torturing myself with.  The voices in my head tell me that I cannot do it.  I can’t do it perfectly, so I might as well not do it.  I’m lazy.

Well F and also Q voices in my head.  I’ve ran 63 miles this month.

That being said.  I gotta run.

Admit it.  We’ve all asked the question.  Most of us have even read the about page on Twitter.  Sounds romantic, no?  We even get an account on Twitter, follow our brother and our mother and still don’t get it.  Why does anyone care that I am folding laundry, or eating at restaurant XYZ?

Then we read someone’s blog, mine…. where I talk about how much fun Twitter is and how the people I love the most are on Twitter and were I to be forced to choose between Facebook and Twitter, hands down, I’m a tweeter.

And yet, you still don’t get it, but you feel like you are missing something really fun.

Have you ever been to a party, and had to force yourself to stay awake on the drive home.  It was boring! Then you get home to discover all your friends’ statuses now read “went to the best party EVAH!!!” and wondered if you were at the same party or if it picked up substantially whenever you were out of the room?

Yeah, it’s like that.

Until you get involved you are just wandering around a party hearing things like “Chick-fil-A – nom nom nom” and “Babies are cute” and “how many times do I have to fold laundry?”

And you roll your eyes.

Twitter is like that party.  Unless you jump in, it is everyone else having a conversation that doesn’t involve you.

Here’s the best tips I have on how to play the game.

Join the conversation – It’s not rude to jump in, OK, sometimes it is…but if someone tweets “Lunch at restaurant XYZ.”  It’s an invitation.  Not to lunch, (stalker).  To converse. Tell them if you love it.  Tell them if you hate it.  Tell them that there is a really cute waiter there, doesn’t matter.

OK – But how?  I only follow my mother and my brother and they never tweet anything. Well, first you have to follow more than your mother and your brother.  Feel free to steal some people from my “Following” list.  These people are funny, or give me coupons, or converse with me.  Pick a few at random.  You can always unfollow.  Might I suggest a few, @BeccasCrazyBoys she’s always got something interesting going on.  @Karpo she’s whole food nutty runner like me.    @MightyHunter he’s fun and banters well.

OK – @annieology said something hi-freakin-larious.  What do I do now?

There are several options.

The Retweet – This option tells all your followers what funny thing just happened.  The straight up Retweet shows up in my Retweet section, a “retweet with comment” shows up in my @replies.  Yes, it’s a foreign language.  Ones twitter score is based on the amount of times they get “Retweeted” they get virtual, meaningless points for connecting with people.  Twitter on the computer and smart phones comes enabled with the Retweet button.  Use it.  I notice, others will too.  Most social media fanatics will converse with you if they notice a Retweet.

Retweet with Comment – This option allows you to copy the entire tweet and add a comment.  For example, someone tweeted “Got caffeine?” your reply would look like this “RT: @annieology Got caffeine?//You know it. Dble espresso.” And that’s how you introduce yourself.  A conversation is started.

The @ reply or the “mention” – All usernames are preceded with an @ sign.  I am @annieology. To talk to me directly, but publicly, you would say “@annieology You win at life.” <<<I’ve actually gotten that.  Do not @reply when you want that tweet kept private.  It’s going out into the world.  And Big Brother has his little sister transcribing every tweet ever so, don’t @ anything you wouldn’t say in the newspaper.

The DM – This stands for Direct Message.  This conversation remains between you and me.  No one else can see it.  This is rarely used by me.  This is a party, I’m not spending the evening chatting privately in the corner.  But, I’ve had people send me their address, or ask a question regarding foster care or adoption they didn’t want out there just yet.  Feel free to use it, just know that it’s not often used.

Another way to get involved is the #hashtag. People start a conversation and in order to help people find it, they all use the same #hashtag.  Recently, this was used in #HomeHer10 – a Twitter fest for all of us who were unable to go to Blogher10, a blog conference for allstars.  They attended swanky parties and got lots of cool swag.  We at #HomeHer10 had our own Twitter conference.  Our conference existed of things like “10 loads of laundry every day. How do I do it?” and we often complained that room service was lacking.  Everyone played along from their own home.  We were not mocking Blogher10, most of us would have gone had we been so blessed.  The mocking nature of the “sessions” were more mocking conferences in general, not that specific one.  If you’ve ever been to a conference, you know they can be a bit ridiculous when it comes to “breakout sessions”.

All that to say, if you see a #hashtag, click on it.  It’s your pass to the conversation.  I gained about 1/3 of my followers during #HomeHer10 – any time I found a funny comment I would follow that person.  Most did the same in return.  The herd has been culled a bit in the weeks since.  Just because someone is fun at a party, doesn’t mean you want to have lunch with them every day.

There are no rules, but if there were, these might be some of them.

1. Tweets are limited to 140 characters.  If you would like to write a book, write a book.  I will unfollow you in a heartbeat if my entire timeline is you telling the world about the diaper incident at the restaurant.  Last week I had one person tweet 22 times in 17 minutes.  Buh bye now.
2. Live Tweeting events.  There are exceptions for people I love.  But so help me, if you live tweet an event you better give me a warning in case I have text alerts on.  I’m not at the game, I don’t care.  If I cared enough to want to know, I’d have gone to the game.  (love you B)
3. Inside Jokes – The entire story is hard to convey in 140 characters.  If you call @BackPackingDad a rumor mongering publicity whore, he might find it hilarious.  He might Retweet it.  You might get people unfollowing you and sending you @replies because he’s the nicest person on the planet, how dare you?  I dare, because it’s a joke.  And it facilitated my best day ever hits wise on the blog. But if you are sensitive to others comments, keep that in mind.

So, I hope that helps.  From the outside looking in, it is not important who is eating where.  On a singular basis, it doesn’t matter that I can’t find my keys.  It expands your world a bit.  You find out that people in North Carolina also lose their keys, or are frustrated with their three year old.  You see that people are the same no matter where you go.

Your world gets a little bigger and the world gets a little smaller.