Running a Half Marathon is:

"10% luck,

20% skill,

15% concentrated power of will,

5% pleasure,

50% pain,

and 100% reason to remember..."

- Fort Minor

Three alarms woke me up this morning, set at 5:35, 5:40, and 5:45 respectively. Actually, the first one woke me up, and the other two were merely back-ups. I had wanted to be able to sleep and sleep well, and since I tend to get paranoid about sleeping through my alarm, I figured three was better than one!

Despite several "scenic detours" (never mind that it was before the sun came up...), and the laborious task of finding a parking spot in downtown Seattle, I was ready and set to go in the starting lineup by 7:15. My neighbor, Tracy, found me and we kept each other company until the air horn that signaled the commencement of the clock.

So what does running a half marathon sound like? The eery quiet of thousands of people of all shapes, sizes, and ages dressed in brightly colored, pulled-together outfits of comfort and practicality, with their feet pounding on the pavement of scenic roads. Or, at least that's what it sounded like when I paused my iPod.

At the start line it sounded like the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and cow bells and the highly-caffeinated announcer lady.

At mile two it sounded like people yelling "Water! Gatorade!" and the gasped "thanks" of runners and the crunch of wax-encrusted dixie cups being stepped on by the 147 people behind you.

At mile four it sounded like the traffic of I-90 on an overpass above us, and several thousand people running through a mile-long tunnel together that slowly heated up throughout the duration.

At mile six the gentle lapping of Puget Sound against rocky shores and the muffling affects of grey, Washington drizzle contrasted the cow bells rung by spectators. (Can we get some more cow bell here, folks? I NEED more cow bell!)

At mile eight through mile ten it sounded like Fort Minor's song "Remember the Name" which somehow just seemed to fit my feelings today, so it kept getting repeated.

Somewhere before mile thirteen I also got in some Lady Gaga, Flo Rida, Joy Williams, The Civil Wars, Damien Rice, N*Sync, Katy Perry, thebandwithnoname, Metro Station, Monk and Neagle, Andrew Belle, Rascal Flatts, Kanye West, and David Crowder, among others.

At mile thirteen, the friends and family of thousands of runners yelled encouragement as we pushed ourselves up the final hill and cheered and applauded us into the Key Arena Stadium to cross the finish line.

Hills, rain, crowds, camaraderie... Each influenced the overall flavor of today's race. Despite only getting in one eight-mile run last week (and otherwise no longer runs at all for several months...), I felt pretty good throughout the race. Miles eight and nine were the most challenging, but by then I figured I was so far into it, there wasn't any need to slack off early!

My official time ended up being 2:12:54... Which might not be my PR, but is still decent enough for me to be happy with...

Now for that dreamed-of full... I think I'll have to start planning in January!

Heavenly Moments

I sat around a table at Shari's last night for well over 2 1/2 hours without any comprehension of the passage of time. I arrived late and consequently ended up in the only available seat at the time (which happened to be the best one - smack dab in the inside, middle spot in a shallow U-shaped table).

As it so happened, my seat was ideal not only because I could see everyone in the party with little more than a turn of my head, but also because some insightful and encouraging and delightful conversations developed at my table over that brief interlude.

Gabe's handy iPodTouch came in useful during the discussion on postmodernism and it's origins, Nate Gr's perspective on the "boring" Christian testimony was encouraging, Nate Go's analysis of "depth AND width" in life provided nuggets to ponder, and Cody's relative position and discussion of parent/child relationships satisfied my desire to know if ANYone else out there understood what I feel...

But even more than the specifics was the feeling that surrounded the exchange at Shari's.

I've been studying a bit about heaven with the young-people's group I'm involved with. Last night we talked about what we think Heaven will be like.

When I think of heaven I don't so much imagine or contemplate the way it will look or the sci-fi-ish beings. Instead, I think of it like my Shari's experience last night... only way, way better! I think heaven will provide absolutely delightful conversations.

My best and favorite memories always involve conversations and the feelings of unity and understanding and sharing that come with real conversations. My "heaven on earth" moments are therefore countless late-night talks around a campfire at the Missions Conference... several early morning coffee-dates with my friend Laura or my friend Amber... one night when I crawled onto my little sister's bed and talked late into the night... another night when I sat in my older sister's bedroom floor talking... rides to and from Mexico in the youth group bus talking straight through the night... conversations on airplanes... drinking jack and cokes at my friend Melanie's with a group of discussers... whole days spent conversing with my cousins Ann and Charlie... hugging a pillow and drinking tea at my friend Sharnessa's house... sitting in my friend Anthony's living room and talking into the early morning hours... sinking into my friend Kindra's couch to talk over a cup of coffee... leaning on my friend Laura's counter in Rome...

I believe Heaven is going to be great because I will be in the very presence and essence of my beloved savior. In addition, I think it will also be great because I will be with all the people in the world from all of time who have also loved my savior. And we will not have the challenges and repercussions of miscommunication. Nor will we have differences of thought because of lies we've accepted as truth. Perhaps best of all, though, is that it won't end. We'll never have to say goodbye. No more hugs at the airport drop-off and turning to walk away, no more "good-night-I-can't-keep-my-eyes-open-any-longer," no more fear of caring and investing in someone because you know life will force you in different directions, no more "I wish we could talk longer but I have to go to work." Instead we'll have oneness of mind [How great is our God?!], oneness of purpose [Worship!], and oneness of home [A pretty grand city]... FOR-EV-ER!

Thus, moments like Shari's last night are so, so sweet... It gives me a glimpse of the possibility. A quick, blurred, fuzzy glance into my eternal future. And it's also sad. Because the contrast from what will be to what is now is so apparent. BUT, it's enough to help me understand the potential. And sometimes just understanding the potential of Heaven is enough to make these Heavenly Moments satisfying in and of themselves, even on this side of Heaven.

Muse on Songwriting

I am by no means an expert songwriter. In fact, I'm sure I can hardly be considered prolific. For me, songwriting is a combination of a discipline, an inspiration, and desperation. I find that when I turn introvert - not one of my most frequent exercises and yet a necessary practice for the attempted stability of my mental health - song inception is hardly irrational, despite the fact that my internal processing might be!

Music is not just entertainment for me - although that is certainly an element; it is enjoyable and satisfying to create from the smallest fragments of nothing, three or four minutes of a melody, an emotion, an experience. Rather, songwriting - for me at least - is much, much more. I can't say it is exactly a catharsis, because I don't necessarily purge myself of the feelings that engulf a song. Nor is songwriting a catalyst between my emotions and the expression of those emotions, because with every song I write, my understanding and grasp of the practice of crafting a composition is altered.

Rather, song writing is more a camera that snaps a photo of me. Of my heart, my soul, my emotions, my thoughts, my memories, my hopes, my dreams, my nightmares... The song, of course - a combination of melody and tempo and lyrics and harmonies - is the resulting picture.

I've written a number of songs recently, because I've been trying to slow down, pause, take inventory of where I am, and check that my internal Dani is in the same location, time, and situation that my external self is. This journaling, meditating, and developing art of being still and real before God is resulting in a desire - perhaps even a need - to acknowledge where I am. Where my heart is.

That, of course, is nearly as complex as a bowl of spaghetti slathered in con carne sauce... One recent creation is titled "May I," and it focuses on the romance of my Savior God toward me and my desire to not be swayed from purpose in his adoring gaze. Another, tentatively titled "Tragedy" I developed around a single quote from a friend during an intense conversation. I have the chorus for one worked out as a tongue-in-cheek, self-deprecating reminder of the blessings around me that my unthankful attitude often skews and thus obliterates from my perspective. And I just got up from working out the basic chord progression of what will be "Bri's Song," an attempt to musicalize (I just made that word up - the process of converting something into music) the emotions I've felt over the past five months as I've watched one of my best friends fall in love.

I love writing songs - transposing abstract and sometimes disorderly emotions and thoughts and perspectives into a time-oriented (and thus mathematical) developed craft. Songs make me vulnerable, though, and in that regards, they're extremely frightening. They're intensely personal. I think I'm generally not very closed-off and guarded, but I feel like my songs are akin to giving someone x-ray vision goggles. While I don't mind having an x-ray taken in a clinic for the purpose of diagnosing a problem, the idea of living constantly in that intimate, observable condition is frightening. Perhaps simply because I do not have control over it. Once these songs are set free of my brain and heart, I've released them. But no matter how far they go, they're also the super-highway directly into my heart at the moment the song was crafted. And that's intimidating.

The Civil Wars

I've been a Joy Williams fan since her debut LP, "Joy" showed up in my sister's Christmas stocking years ago. With every new release, she's been able to impress me with her ability to craft meaningful lyrics into moving melodies, hereby presenting numerous three-minute long experiences with art.

She took a break from the visible music scene for awhile, but that only gave her songwriting craft time to improved. Choosing to re-enter musicdom under her own label this past year, Joy has released numerous songs to her adoring fans which, essentially, seem to capture into musical snapshots the life of a learning, growing, searching, loving, hurting, journeying soul. I can relate to that exceptionally well!

The Civil Wars - a combination of not only Joy's stellar talent but also that of her friend John Paul White - has also hit the Indie music scene this year, which I'll be honest, until now I haven't delved into as much as Joy's solo productions. But that's about to change after seeing this video (their first official) of "Poison and Wine."

I absolutely adore the escalating composition, particularly the heart-beat like strum of the guitar. It seems like the frightening experience of loving and then facing reality with that love in its proper perspective is so aptly developed. The melody is haunting and the song leaves me with more questions as the final harmony fades than most pieces manage, and the setting of the video only adds to the mysterious beauty...

Ahh, the choices of love!

Middle School Nightmares

I used to be scared of throwing parties. Maybe that was because I never really threw them. My very first “real” birthday party was when I turned 16, and I threw it for myself. It wasn’t a complete failure, but I also don’t consider hypothermia a smashing success.

My greatest nightmare in middle school was probably similar to other people’s nightmares – showing up someplace and realizing you thought you got dressed, but in actuality you just didn’t notice you left your house butt-naked… despite the fact that EVERYONE else did notice. My second most significant nightmare had something to do with a fire and a giant pig chasing me, but since the details seem foggy on that one, I’ll move on to the third most common nightmare: I was afraid of throwing a party and inviting ALL my friends and having, like, nobody show up.

I have realized in my 21 years of life that it is time for me to get over some of these childish nightmares. I have even grown to enjoy and thrive on cooking without recipes because I’m getting over my fear of cooking a meal that flops (for the record, I made pumpkin soup the other day that resembled a pot of diarrhea when I flushed it down the toilet). I decided about 2 months ago that I wanted to get over my fear of throwing a party and having nobody show up. I mean, after all, all 534 friends on facebook have accepted my friend requests! Surely people like me a little, right? And even if they just came out of politeness, I wouldn’t know the difference, and I could BELIEVE that they all loved me enough to come! It seemed like a good idea.

I’d had a bit of a challenging week leading up to the party. And by challenging, I mean to the extent that I literally had water-works tears flowing down my face and neck and soaking the front of my shirt during a step-aerobic class. I don’t usually cry in step-aerobics or any other form of fitness class, actually. It was a strange week.

The party was set for 6:30PM on Friday and I’d had a fairly decent response from the 80+ people I’d invited. It was a formal, sushi-making, pre-Christmas, dance party theme. I had a fabulous dress, bought fabulous Christmas-y smelling candles, and decorated the house with (fabulous, of course) Christmas decorations. The sushi was ready to be made, other delectable treats were prepped, and… the attendee list was dropping; ALL day on Friday I’d had people phone/text/email/facebook me to let me know they weren’t going to be able to make it. By the time 6:15 came around, I literally had no strongly confirmed guests.

BUT, ever the optimist, I was dressed and ready to go at 6:30, waiting for the first guest. I waited. And waited. And waited. And while I waited, I tried to keep my chin up, but… I guess I’m just not so good at that. By about 6:45 (and this is humbling to admit!) I think I was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, in my little black dress and high heels, sobbing the mascara all over my face.

My worst nightmare came true: I threw a party and nobody showed up.

For 45 minutes, I felt pretty rejected! Then – God BLESS her! – my friend Katie showed up. Now, there are certain people that I wouldn’t want to see me in such a state of emotional distress and so clearly socially ostracized (and yes, I do not like to be humbled…), but Katie is not one of them… Why? because Katie and I share the same nightmare, and I knew that she would TOTALLY understand my absolute THRILL at having a guest show up!

As it turned out, another 5 people showed up over the evening (Mikinzi came at 11PM and when she saw no cars in the driveway braced herself for comforting me after what she presumed had been 4 ½ hours of Dani-sobbing-on-the-kitchen-floor moments – what a friend!), and on the bright side, dishes and clean up was a snap. And honestly, I know that God just had completely different plans for me that night than I had for myself – and they were GOOD plans, because he brought JUST the right people to be there and we had a great time. But I admit, it took me at least 24 hours to get over my crushed ideal of the evening.

I eventually stopped hiccupping from the crying sessions, I gave away, froze, or ate up all the leftovers, and, well, I still burn the Christmas-y smelling candles because I just love the fragrance of pine! But I have not quite worked up the nerve to throw another party. Someday I will – I know in my obsessive-compulsive tendencies to self-improve I’ll eventually realize I need to risk it again to overcome the fear… but then again, I had a nightmare last night about having nobody show up at my wedding (including an unknown groom…), and... well... I’m just not sure if I’m ready to handle that much rejection again anytime soon.

7,000 screaming girls...

I had a coffee date with my friend Amber back in September. That is not unusual for me to do - sometimes I think that coffee dates are my full-time job, and teaching is just how I support it... Although I still get overwhelmed when I have to order coffee because, basically, I just hate having all the options that coffee shops in the NW tend to cater toward. I mean, who REALLY needs to have to pick between whole milk, 2%, 1%, non-fat, breve, almond milk, and soy... and that's JUST the milk!!? Don't even get me started on the syrup flavors or how many shots of coffee, OR, if you're like the new shop that's opened on 14th Ave (ZoJo's), different ROAST types... Ugh, my head is swimming...

Anyhow, Amber and her husband Austin (aka: Nordstrom) are heading up the ministry division of a local church for the junior high kiddos. Since A & A/N also head up a ministry for 18-25ish year olds, they are kinda busy... I like junior high kids, I like A & A/N, and I like having something to do on my Wednesday nights, so I said, "Hey, would it be helpful if I just showed up and hung out with y'all?" I thought Amber was going to leap across the table and hug the oxygen right out of my lungs, she said yes so enthusiastically!

So, I've been chillin' with the jr highers (and slowly, slowly, slowly learning names and how to play dodgeball - I seemed to have missed that lesson in PE or recess... OH, wait, maybe because I never went??). This last weekend The Revolve Tour came to Portland, and Amber hit me up to help her take a herd of jr high girls to the event. Since I love Amber (have I mentioned that? I LOVE Amber!! She's hilarious and has been a huge God-send as a friend the last couple months!), and I'm definitely quickly falling in love with these girls, I said, "Yes, of course!" several weeks ago.

We had a blast. I think Amber and I might have rocked out more than the girls. My suburban's persistent need to be jumped stretched Amber's sense of adventure just a tad out of her comfort zones (Austin laughed when I apologized for that - I was driving [coasting?] right up my alley, of course...), the late night (Amber is DEFINITELY a morning person, and I was just tired from 2 very poor nights of sleep), the coffee, and laughing at the speaker on "guys" at this conference was enough to make it a highlight of the week, for sure... if not the month!

But... as much fun as it was (and it was!), I also realized that I am a girl. I love being a girl. I enjoy girls. I do and like girly things. BUT, I can only take SOOOOO MUCH girl time. There was a lot of screaming. There was a lot of squeeling. There was a lot of perfume. Makeup. Talk about Miley Cyrus. The Jonas Brothers. Giggling (I may or may not have contributed to that...). By the time I got the girls back to the church parking lot and hugged Amber goodbye, I was thinking, "You know, this is why God made men AND women! We need each other to balance out."

And I'll tell you one thing: after this weekend, I either need to go out and run a dozen miles to get the endorphins going in my brain so the remnants of excessive estrogen are wiped away, OR I need some serious dude-time with my brother or some guy friends to accomplish the same thing.

Girls are great, but I'M a girl, and sometimes I feel like that's enough craziness!

"Hello again, clean hair!"

I washed my hair today - it's been a long time, I can't remember exactly when it was last washed - because I went for a run.

I think running is kind of like a spiritual discipline. The hardest part is getting out of the door. That's kind of like obedience. The most challenging part is actually taking that first step in obedience. It's so easy to talk about it, even to prepare for it, look like you're getting geared up for it... but to actually DO it is hard! It isn't always comfortable. It isn't usually what I want to do - I'd much prefer to take a nap on the energy-absorbing-cough - but I'm determined to do it, because I know I'll be better off once I do.

This afternoon my run had been put off (I'm seriously a world-class procrastinator!) until the sun had set behind the hills. But that was actually OK, because there was enough light in the sky to illuminate the clouds in a vast array of powerful pilings, and the fog was descending in a way that obscured the road ahead... I liked that. My iPod is currently unavailable, so I did the run with just the company of my thoughts, and I was considering how if running is being obedient to God, then it would only make sense that there would be fog along the way... The road is still there, it's still consistent under my feet, but I cannot always see that far ahead of me.

One thing I noticed, though, was that despite the heavy fog rolling into the valley, I could still see the stars. I love stars. They are perhaps my all time favorite natural landscape. (I like songs about stars too!) And I particularly like that even though my view of the road was variable, the stars remained consistent.

Someday I don't believe I'll live where I can see the stars and run in the country with fog and rural roads and silence for my company. Lord, help me store up these moments to enjoy in the future...

Quote

I went to a conference this weekend. I spent Friday night in the nursery with my friend Stephanie and her two kids. Stephanie and her husband are planning to move to India in February, so her husband was speaking about that.

Saturday Stephanie spoke at a ladies luncheon that I also attended. She had some great things to say, and these were my favorites:

"Are you living life for yourself or for God? God is a gentleman - he doesn't force us to do things against our will."

"May I always be dissatisfied with where I am - may God always woo me to the higher ground fo holiness."

Success!

I think sometimes I have the most ridiculous fear of failure. I don't even bother to define what is "success" versus what is "failure," I just have this paralyzing fear of trying my hand at something and NOT being good enough. My pride doesn't like that. And my insecurity doesn't either... because when I'm basing my value and merit off of my ability to do something, then I get all anxious and paranoid over the idea of not being able to do it.

Deep breaths, Dani, seriously! Stop, assess, reevaluate, define, compartmentalize... What's the big rush?!

But today, TO-DAY I did experience that sweet feeling of "ahh, success!" The first time was when I was in my boss's office going over her evaluation of me as a teacher. She came and sat in on my class last week for 2 hours and took notes from her chair in the back. Honestly, I wasn't that worried about her evaluation of me because a) I've been teaching in various settings for the last 4 years or so and this would be the first time someone actually came and sat in to evaluate ME as a teacher, and I WANT the constructive criticism, and b) because I figured if I bombed the evaluation and she realized she needed to fire me on the spot, it would have been a good indication that I'm ready to move on to something else. But "b" didn't happen, and there wasn't even all that much of "a" going on in the evaluation. In teacher/parenting talk, it was more like "positive reinforcement"... On paper, I apparently look like a valuable addition to the college educator community. I'll be honest: it was nice. As a words of affirmation person, it's nice to have my superior look over my shoulder and be able to say, "Well done."

The second moment of success came in the student center as I was leaving from my lunch date with my cousin. One of my students from the summer quarter (who gave me a bit of trouble from time to time and challenged my ability to communicate ideas from various approaches) passed me and stopped to say hi. To my surprise (thrill!!!) he took the GED test, passed it, and made it into another program the college offers to teach diesel mechanics. Sometimes it's tough to look at these students who want so badly to do something with their life, but they just don't seem to have the raw ability to get there. I'm ashamed to admit that I wonder whether some of my students have what it takes to accomplish their goals... But it was like encouragement squared to the exponential value to have this guy tell me he'd made it! He'd used what I taught him in Math and Language Arts over the summer - along with all the other teachers' contributions - and he got a minimum of 410 with an average of 450 on every test. Hallelujah! He gave me a big hug before he had to run to class.

And the final "success" moment came on the mat of my jiu jitsu class as my opponent - with a 90 lb advantage over me - had me in the mount position, and I managed to pull his arm in, lock his foot, and leverage enough with my hips to throw him over my left shoulder into a roll that got him on his back, with me in guard (I think I got all those terms right...). Sweet! This sport is HARD for me, with what seems like a million possibilities I have to evaluate and think through, while at the same time trying to remember a million details and plan out what I'm going to do next and how he's going to respond. It's tricksy, little hobbitses! Like chess... but physical! But small moments like that - despite the other 25 minutes of jiu jitsu rolling that resulted in being bruised, bashed, squished, thrown around, groped (not on purpose), battered, and joint-locked - encourage my tenacity (or stubborness!) and keep me going... The thrill is worth it all!

Success... It's such a motivator!

Sunset...

The sky is fantastical tonight from my perch on the front porch. I've chosen to bundle in my heavy winter jacket on the rocking chair I drug outside to watch the last vestiges of the autumn sun sink behind the hills and trees after coming home from work. The NW offers so few beautiful, affirming, life-giving-Vitamin-D-filled days from November through May that it seems wasteful to not try to absorb every last reflective ray... Despite that my fingers might freeze to the keyboard in-process...

Today was beautiful. Not in just a sunshiny way. Or a crisp-cool air and leaves-falling way. Or even in a dry pavement (and thus trouser hems!) and wood-smoke-smelling way... It was more of a deep, in-my-soul, starting-out-on-a-journey way. You know the morning you leave for someplace exciting on vacation? You're full of hopes and anticipation and curiosity. You don't actually know what's in store, but you know that it'll be different, it'll be new, it'll be challenging and fun and crazy and adventurous and... you'll never be back in THIS spot at THIS moment without the changes that will impact you from the journey. I love that feeling. And that's what today felt like.

The sun has sunk now, and the sky has transformed from vivid pink and orange to moody blues and purples. With the contrast of the green-green grass, and the orange and blood red leaves here on the trees at the house where I'm staying, it's delightful to have vision and be able to absorb this. I'm smiling up at the sky: "Well done, Lord!"

Tonight I'll head back into town for youth group after responding to some emails and trying to sort out a couple more of the accommodation locations for this Egypt trip, but the sunset feels something like a sunrise to me right now... Changes are coming... The day is dawning... I have no idea what it'll bring, but I'm feeling it in my bones. The time is coming for me to not just think and talk about making decisions and stepping out to define what opportunities I'm pursuing and what I'm letting slide by me, but to actually DO it. I'm excited. I'm scared, yes, and intimidated, and (when I let myself!) fearful of failing, but what is failure, really? I prefer to think of it as a chance to learn something new... something you wouldn't have learned otherwise... something that will stick with you for the rest of your life as a "been there, done that, NEVER going back!"

Ahh, life. Who knew it would be so fun? So challenging? So beautiful? Lord, bring it!