Losing Battles

Maybe I'm not exactly losing battles today, but I'm certainly not winning any. School started yesterday and I can't believe it's only Tuesday. I feel like this week has lasted a month now.

I'm not a fan of people, and the amount of people on campus now compared to who was there over the summer is absolutely staggering. I've developed a body language that I've discovered not only steers solicitors (campus is overrun with them) away, but also parts the sea of weaker minded students in my way when I'm on a mission. There's construction going on all over campus so most walkways are too narrow for even a modest amount of people, and I'm telling you, it is CROWDED.

Today I was not in the mood.

Yesterday I dealt with trying to crash Calculus, in which I came away with nothing.

I went to Physics where I was informed by the jerk of an instructor that the extra workshop (group study) portion of physics was required, even though it isn't. I spent the remainder of the class so pissed at him that I didn't even want to listen to his lecture. Because of the parking situation the first few weeks of class, I had to get there long before my first class. All in all, I was on campus from 7am to 7pm. Swam, studied for physics, went to calculus, studied, went to physics lab, ran out of food by noon so I ate 2 pop tarts out of the vending machine as I raced off to physics lecture. I came home, ate, and went to bed.

This morning I was up and at 'em before dawn. Again, due to the parking situation, decided to put off my run until the afternoon (bad idea). I got to school early and did a physics assignment. I checked for an add code for calculus and had none. I went to my first class of the day, successfully got an add code. Went to the second class, got an add code, but nothing else. The second class is Scientific Computer Programming or something to that effect. Since I was crashing the class (long story) I didn't have access to the class online (probably not until tomorrow) so I couldn't get the powerpoint. I also didn't have access to the host that the Unix assignment was on. So I looked over the shoulder of the girl next to me. We were doing a computer programming lab without first having a lecture. What in the hell am I expected to do with that?! Excuse my language, but that is bullshit. It's going to be a long semester.

After a very long computer lab, I marched over to the bookstore to purchase books for today's classes. They don't carry them. Geezo. I dodged all sorts of people trying to hand out fliers and cards and have weird discussions about saving our rainforests or something. I was tired. I just wanted to go home.

As I moved across campus in the other direction, I was getting irritated. Nothing seemed to be working out for me. I clenched my jaw, leaned forward and opened my stride, looking straight ahead. The solicitors avoided me. Students moved out of my way. I went straight to the physics department and bought a lab manual and then poked my head into the front office.

I explained to the nice lady that my professor said I'd be dropped from physics if I didn't add the extra workshop.

"You're a grad student right?"
"Yeah and I'm carrying 13 units" I replied (For grad students, 8 units is full time, not 12).
"Oh yeah, you don't have to do that. I don't have any waivers with me, but I'll have them printed out tomorrow if you want to stop by. You can just sign it so he won't drop you."

Works for me. Possibly my only victory of the day.

I circled back towards my office to collect my stuff to go home. I tried to log on to the computer to go to Amazon to buy my books. It wouldn't turn on. I gave up, gathered my stuff and grabbed an extra cookie on the way out.

When I got home, I ordered my books (good god books are expensive) and then looked in the fridge for food to eat that would get me through a cycle and run workout at the gym. I settled on a protein shake, dragged my feet getting out the door, and headed to the gym.

Impatient with the traffic, I ended up turning the wrong way into a one way bank drive through, turned around in the lot and back out on to the street to turn into the gym lot. For crying out loud.

I hopped on the bike first in hopes of my stomach settling down before the run. No such luck. After a half hour on the bike, I jumped on the treadmill, and with hopes of being done sooner, put it at a higher speed than I should have. I let it go for about a mile like that and then slowed it down a little. It was too late. I had a side cramp so bad I had to stop. Whatever. I hopped down and went to stretch.

Now my stomach is all bloated, I do not want to finish all the other stuff I was supposed to do today. I just want to go to bed and start over tomorrow morning. I need to figure out the average acceleration of a space shuttle launch and figure out where exactly it was at 8.5 minutes after launch. I need to shave my legs and shower/bathe. I need to figure out where the hell my dividers are for my binder. There's a lot of other things I need to do, but I don't think they're happening tonight. It's just too much to ask.

Butterflies

“Stop it!” I say to the butterflies in my stomach.

Because it's too early for butterflies. Between your phone call last night, my second cup of coffee and the light rain outside, my stomach might as well take flight into the cool morning air that drifts into the open windows of my tiny apartment.

I missed your text this morning, just before 4 am and know you're out of cell reception but at some point today will get my response that came two hours later. The rain begs me to curl under a blanket with you, with hot cups of coffee: one black, one with cream and sugar. Jen said to me, “That's the funny thing about live bodies, they're warm”. And for a brief second I'm able to hold onto your warmth in my mind along with your particular scent. But then it's gone and I'm left with a crow outside my window and a churning in the pit of my belly. Traffic creates a steady whisper of the world moving on and I sip my coffee alone.

We talk of growing old together and my mind drifts to hot dusty wind in the east county, waking up in your arms every morning, a dog, avocado trees and a tiny vineyard. And that spot at the intersection of your neck, chest and shoulder, where I lean my forehead, smell your skin and absorb your warmth.

Sometimes your voice is so soft I can hardly hear you and I debate between asking you to repeat it or just closing my eyes and listening to the sound as your breath dances off my hair and the scruff of your beard scratches lightly at my face. I wait for the hint of a question at the end, or the trailing off of a statement or thought and worry about the magic lost in asking you to say it again. And there's something about the way your heart beats softly against your chest that slows my breath and calms the storms I keep inside.

The memory of your beautiful smile and eyes that danced under the brim of your hard hat somehow seems lit up, even in the darkness of the swing shift where you stole my heart as we scouted line to be burned. Isn't that funny? We met lighting a fire so intense it'll burn forever.

Rose Garden

There's a community up the road from me called Rose Garden, apparently named for the historic rose garden that takes up a full city block. I can't exactly afford to live in Rose Garden, but I drive through there on the way to Target whenever I need toilet paper or vitamins to help my toenails grow back. Every time I pass by the municipal rose garden, I tell myself I'll have to stop and explore it one day.

Due to a thick stratus layer this morning, I enjoyed the much cooler temperature blowing through my window from under one of my Mexican blankets. After a few hard stacked workouts, physical activity is pretty much out of the question today, so I decided to go check out the rose garden.

I walked slowly through the garden, collecting dew off the grass onto my toes, taking pictures and sniffing the roses. They all need a little trimming, but I'm wondering if maybe summer is not the time to do it?

There's also some redwoods struggling to survive there, as I've seen throughout the city. At some point, someone thought it a great idea to bring some redwoods in from the coast and plant them around the city. That's ok, I tried that too. They never made it past the seed stage but that might have something to do with the epic fall they took from the window sill one particularly windy day. Anyway, San Jose is a little too hot and dry for redwoods, even though they flourish just a few miles away in the Santa Cruz mountains.

As I wandered through the roses, I had a vivid memory of one of my birthday's when I was a teenager. I came running through the house in a hurry and almost smacked head on into my dad. In his hands were a mixed bouquet of roses that he had clipped from his rose garden for me. Beautiful roses that he had labored for and tended to with love. It melted my heart then, it crushes my heart now. The fragrance and beauty of roses will forever be bittersweet to me. I remember the hours he spent on them, the weekends he hauled us out into the front yard and showed us how to properly clip the roses, pull weeds from around them and make sure they're getting enough water. I remember the beautiful roses sitting in a mason jar on the dining table, year round.

Grief has revealed itself to be a permanent fixture. I still cry when I think of him. It still makes me feel like collapsing, like I did in the driveway that November morning, crushed by the deepest despair I may ever know. I'm still learning to live in a new "normal" and every day is a test of whether or not I'll make it.

As I sat on the bench in the rose garden, I turned my head and stared at the roses from under the bill of my ball cap and I suddenly felt Christa sitting next to me, with her blue ball cap on, sighing and holding my hand, both understanding. I thought back to the day we walked through the cemetery, sharing grief but each lost in our own version. She was so brave to listen to the details of when I found him, even though it would later cause her nightmares, and me guilt.

But as I always do, I took a deep shaky breath and stood. I walked through the roses to the trellis that led to the jeep, and moved forward. Forward but never on.

Toenails

Once again I have removed the polish off my toenails to check the status of my Boston Marathon wounds. One of them is really getting ready to go. Half of it is no longer attached but the thought of ripping it completely off is frightening to say the least. It will have to get much looser before I start tugging at it.

With a half marathon coming up in two weeks (America's Finest City!) I was concerned about what to do if I lost it. Could I still comfortably run? I googled it.

First of all, you can electively have your toenails removed. Like forever. No more toenails. Who would do this? Apparently people who frequently get ingrown toenails, fungus, infections, etc. I guess there's a big push in the ultra marathon world for people just removing their toenails since they all fall off anyway. I have ran 4 marathons and have yet to lose a toenail....but now I'm working on it.

Secondly, there's an ultra runner out there that has decided to make a necklace out of his and a couple donated toenails. See here. Besides the fact that that is disgusting, it is slightly cool. I mean, I do own my own rib, so I can't really judge.

Third, turns out people run without toenails all the time. And people paint the skin under them all the time (not just Robin). And apparently it can take up to 6 months (or never) for them to grow back.

When I swim I feel the pressure of the water pulling my toenail back.

Every once in awhile I scrape it against something and have to pause and catch my breath and check to see if it's still attached.

However, when I run, it does ok. I also wear different shoes than I did for the marathon. Those were a bad choice. But beautiful. I like the colors better than my current bright pink. But they are friendlier on my feet, IT band....and apparently toenails.