Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »
Describe your life at the time of your 30th birthday…
At the age of 30, I’ll be all grown up. I’ll have a husband and two kids, a boy and a girl (the girl will be named Samantha), and like ten cats. I will work as a veterinarian — or maybe a pediatrician — and we’ll have a house in New York City and take the subway everywhere. I will also take ballet lessons and watch a lot of Broadway shows.
I will have watched Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” concert without my mom fast-forwarding through the bad parts. No one will have ever found out about that homework page I didn’t finish in first grade and threw out instead of getting my mom to sign it. I’ll have my own Prodigy account and Aly and I will send each other hundreds of emails each month and IM everyday. And I hope my husband can cook, because I can’t.
Marriage? No way! Kids? Hell no! Everything society expects me to do, I’m gonna do the opposite.
My accounting professor says some accounting majors start at $80,000 right out of college! $80,000!!! Who needs a husband when I can make a ton of money working on my own. I’m gonna have the coolest apartment in New York City and I’ll drive a baby blue Mustang convertible. I know it’s hard to park in NYC, but I’ll be making so much that I’ll just pay for my own spot.
My English teacher keeps saying I’m gonna end up an English teacher or writer. Pssssh! They don’t make any money. Just wait and see.
I definitely won’t have any kids. They are such a pain in the ass. Constantly crying and moaning for things.
If I work my arse off, I can make partner in ten years.
Oh, and I met someone; I think he could be the one. [blush] He is so cute with an adorable smirk and that just got out of bed hairstyle that really takes him 20 minutes to perfect. Oh, and he’s British. He sounds just like Hugh Grant. Actually he kind looks and acts like him too. They both have narrow faces, stretchy skin and are kind of awkward.
Where would we live? I don’t know. I would love to live in London, but he loves NY. Maybe well have a house in both places. Did I tell you how cute he is? Let me show you a photo!
If I am still working as an auditor when I am 30, please shoot me.
Now, go away it’s busy season and I need to add a 2,546th column to my spreadsheet and decide between a kosher burger and a bologna sandwich for dinner.
I’m serious. Bugger off!
Published. The next Sophie Kinsella. No, no! Bill Bryson. If I work as a travel writer I could get paid to travel. How cool would that be? I could give up having an apt, and just live out of my backpack. I’d be one with the earth, bartering the clothes I sew on long train rides to pass the time for food and travel tours. I could find a land I adore and build roots there as an animal activist or offer accounting advice for third-world communities.
Whatever I do, I WILL publish a book by the time I am 30. I will HATE myself if I dont.
The boy? Eh, things with the boy aren’t too great right now.
Where will I be when I’m 30?
Well, I am a writer, but not yet a published author. However, I don’t hate myself. I work in NYC but have lost the desire to leave my backyard in the suburbs. One cat, not ten. No idea how to sew clothes, or barter for that matter; I can’t even use eBay.
I run half marathon(s), can put my legs behind my head in yoga class and ride black diamond trails on my snowboard. I drove across the US and walked across England. I haven’t been to a dance class in years, I rarely indulge in broadway shows and I’ve jumped out of a plane 25 times. I’ve learned to cook — and bake — and I work in an industry that would make 10-year-old-“I only eat foods that come covered in ketchup or tomato sauce” E wrinkle her nose. I’m obsessed with cheese. I’ve see Madonna in concert four times — but have still not watched her “Like a Virgin” tour.
I’ve fallen in love, and back out again. I’ve tested my morals, and been deceived and trampled on. I fight for what I want but I never ignore my intuition. I have surrounded myself with supportive girlfriends who constantly inspire me to achieve more. My family has stood by throughout 29 years of irrational decisions and picked me up when Ive fallen. My friends and family tolerate and love me; I will forever feel indebted to them. I’m single. I’m fulfilled. But I still wonder about my Hugh Grant.
I put way too much pressure on myself but love myself too much to change. I am a control freak who gave up control; everything I’ve experienced in my life was at some point unexpected. And I am absolutely loving the ride.
Oh, and I DO send Aly hundreds of emails a month, and we iMessage almost everyday.
Happy 30th Birthday to me! In true tradition, my girls honored my big day with a few of our favorite things… cheese, cured meats, pesto, bruschetta, crackers, lime tostitos, cava, wine, vodka, Reese PB cupcakes and a trip to my favorite restaurant for mojitos and empanadas. Couldn’t have been more perfect… and the celebration will continue next month when we all head to CANCUUUUUN!
I am excited for this new decade and feel confident that there are many experiences and lessons waiting to help me grow.
Happy Birthday to me!
Those words actually came out of my buddy’s mouth yesterday. It kinda sums up the intensity he brings to the mountain. The comment might have shocked me, but the guy had already tricked me into riding my first real Black Diamond trail.
Yeah, seriously, he tricked me. Amid his pre-ride coaching I promised to give a Black Diamond a go before the end of the day but requested a slow start.
“Let’s start on an easy one. Ok? An intermediate slope?!”
“Sure, let’s go this way.” As he disappeared over a hill. Ummm, not an easy one!!!
But I have to give the guy lots o’ credit. If I had known I was riding it, I probably would have let my nerves get the most of me. High-five Gross-man for the manipulation. Well respected. It made me want to go back for more. So I did… and I ROCKED IT!
Look! See? Me rockin’ out:
I rocked it one and half times… one and a half times before I ate it… wiped out on my booty…
and kept on sliding…
and tried to ride out the momentum and get up mid-slide…
annnnnd… sorry, I dont have anymore screenshots to show the next slick move. But let’s say as my cameraman flew past me, I continued to gain speed, and when trying to pop back up into a standing position I caught the front edge of my trusty Troop and dove chest-first downhill into the hard-packed snow ahead of me. Since my hands decided to sit this one out, my full weight landed on my right rib cage, creating a sweet crunching sound… and knocking every molecule of air out of me. (Does air travel in molecules? I need a scientist to weigh in on this one.)
If I could get the video plug-in on WordPress to work, I’d air Gross-man’s monologue about my disappearance — its entertaining. But alas, too difficult for my half-conscious mind.
Currently my body is demanding a state of immobility out of fear of moving through a position that is going to trigger excruciating pain to rocket through my nerves and make my stomach nauseous. Not fun! The Stratton first aid clinic thinks I’ll be a-ok if I lay off the moving around and lay on the ice. But I think Im gonna get a second opinion from an x-ray machine.
This really dampens my half-marathon training, but as crazy as it makes me sound, it was so worth it. SUCH A RUSH!
Thanks for the runs and the fun camera work Gross-man.
Anyone have any advice for possibly cracked ribs??
Many runners like to run on their own; while many like to have a friend or partner at their side. Running with someone is beneficial in maintaining motivation and staying on track. For example,
- it will push you to keep going when you are feeling exhausted… or when your ankle feels broken or you develop a stitch in your side that feels like a stab wound, and
- having someone to chat to will distract you from exhaustion… and sensations that resemble a broken ankle or a stab wound in your side.
The most difficult part of your training might be convincing said friend/partner to sign up for a half-marathon that you have registered for. Here is some advice for that:
- After you run 3.6 miles, head to an awesome pizza bar to continue socializing. Each order a pizza and a pint of beer. Continue socializing. Order a second round of beers. Wait till the grease and alcohol drowns running endorphins. Suggest friend run same half-marathon as yourself.
Voila! You have a training buddy!
With that said, I am back on the training game. I’ve signed up for the More Magazine + Fitness Women’s Half Marathon in Central Park this April. And, using the cunning advice above, my TNT running buddy will be running it with me. YAY INES!
BACK TO TUESDAY NIGHT TRAINING Bs&Gs!
I will not be running this for charity. Without a doubt, I will do that again, but this one is just for me.
Sooo stay tuned… and watch this page for more fun training updates.
Wow!!! It’s been more than two months since I last posted. WTF? How inconsiderate of me. Sorry blog.
The first week of November I attended a press trip to Wisconsin to tour the Dairyland’s famous creameries. After three days of eating more cheese than I thought my body could handle, I received an early morning phonecall from a sad sad voice.
It was mom. My grandma had passed away. The week prior she had been back in the hospital with pneumonia and a broken arm. I had visited her on a Saturday afternoon.
“Ooooh hiiii!” She laughed when I walked in as if she had been secretly expecting me. I am not sure she knew who I was but she was glad to see someone familiar and have some company.
She told me some borderline coherent stories, most of which included the name “George” (my grandpa) and she hollered at the moaning woman she was stuck sharing a room with: “Ohhhh shut up! What are you complaining about?”
Then to me: “What is HER problem?”
I rubbed her head till she started to doze. When I stopped she perked up again and asked me if I was leaving. I couldn’t make out the words but the disappointment was clear.
I told her I was “going to check on grandpa… George.”
She giggled with her eyes closed and asked what he was doing and what he was going to eat for dinner since she couldn’t make him anything. I promised I’d bring him something delicious to eat. (We had Olive Garden that night, his favorite.)
“Ok. You better go then.” Thats grandma; always putting someone else first.
“I love you grandma!”
“Oooooh ha, I love you too!” And when she squeezed my hand, I knew it was the last time I was going to see her. Just for a flash; I could sense that this was it…
… so I gave her a kiss and the biggest smile I could conjure up while sucking in the tears.
A few weeks later we celebrated her life with a wake full of photos, stories and smiles. She was not only one of the happiest persons that I knew, but she had spread her infectious positivity everywhere she went and with everyone she met.
At some point in the mourning process it occurred to me, ‘this was the first time I had lost someone close to me.’
At the ripe age of 29, I’m pretty damn lucky to make this claim. At the same time, it was unfamiliar territory.
I didn’t feel like blogging. I didn’t feel like advertising it on Facebook. I didn’t feel like telling people and hearing condolences. I just wanted to sit with it, digest it and accept it.
So I did.
Every time Ive sat down to type since, I didnt know where to start. I couldnt write about anything until I wrote about her… and I didn’t know what to say.
Two days ago my friend told me his grandma died. My grief popped its ugly head but this time it left me smiling. I miss her… especially at the holidays… but she lived with a smile so I better too.
There’s been a lot else going on as well. Following Wisconsin I took off on a couple more business trips, including a second landing in San Francisco which only heightened my desire to live there. I had the chance to wander around Union Sq and reminisce about my run. Ahhhhh. Remember that? Did I mention I ran a half marathon in San Fran?
I’ve kept up the running. Didn’t even stop for that freak blizzard/storm that hit the tri-state area in October. Actually, instead of staying warm/dry, Azzy, Kenny and I ran/climbed/jumped our way through the Men’s Health Urbanathlon — a military-style obstacle course with an urban/city-twist. You know, like climbing over taxi cabs and MTA buses, army crawling under chain link fences and jumping traffic cones.
The course was 9.something miles with 8 obstacles, two of which were running staircases at Arthur Ashe Stadium and Citifield. We split the bee-otch up and relayed it, each taking on a 3ish-mile section.
It was awesome.
It was HARD.
When we saw the course map, I begged for the section that included monkey bars… I don’t want toot my own horn, but I kinda rocked the monkey bars as a kid. All good right?! That section also included military hurdles. Those mothereffers were like 5-foot-something high. Thank god some Greg T (Z100) lookalike showed up and let me step on his back. Otherwise I’d have failed my team. Note to self: must exercise upper body more.
Us enjoying the beer tent after the race.
Anyways. It was awesome. I’ve kept with the running since and ran a PR Turkey Trot 5k, signed up for two NYRR races in January, including the Manhattan half-marathon, and entered the lottery for the NYC Half and the ING NYC Marathon. What did I do?
Then as an early Christmas gift I went and gave myself tendinitis in the bottom of my right foot — legwarmers were the culprit — and have been out of commission for two+ weeks.
IM GOING CRAZY!!!!!!
My awesome podiatrist is “cautiously optimistic” that I can run the half on Jan 21st, and I’ll be playing with my gal in Conn this weekend instead of running the Joe Kleinerman 10K. *tear*
It was kinda convenient that this happened now — I’ve been working on a project at work that has actually been taking all my evening time so I haven’t had to voluntarily compromise running time. And the new website looks gooooood.
With that said, it’s a new year! I am making 2012 the year of SMILES AND POSITIVITY!!!
Anyways. It was 12 days ago. What have I done since? Well, for starters, I got a massage and sat on my butt for five days. Then, after that, I ran a 10k with my cousin. (Sean of Seanzanne.)
Yeah, not smart. Apparently you need to keep your legs moving if you want them to race for you. Its somewhere in the fine print of the sport… I just overlooked it.
The first three miles were hellish and I felt like my legs were full of cement. But at mile 4ish I loosened up and picked up the pace. Yay for negative splits!
I finished at…
There was honestly one point in the race that I was completely 100% OK with stopping, walking off the course and Google mapping my way back to the finish line to wait for my cousin.
I didn’t. Obviously. But I wouldn’t feel bad if I had.
So, lesson learned. Don’t stop running. It makes it that much harder.
I also hit up the beach for a run. I havent run the Jones Beach boardwalk in a long time and it was SO REFRESHING. It was the absolute PERFECT combination of sun, breeze and warmth that makes me happy. Like warm fuzzies deep in your soul happy. Everything is perfect when running by the beach on a clear sunny day. EVERYTHING. I’m such a Pisces.
Ok, back to the race. When I ended my recap I declared one more order of business — a THANK YOU.
I don’t know where to start and I know I am going to tear up at some point in trying to say this.
When I asked you all to support my race, I was looking for some financial donations and maybe some running tips. What I didn’t realize at the time, was that I needed so much more.
The physical part of training was turned out to be slightly more difficult than I expected but the fundraising was much easier than I expected. That, B&Gs is allll thanks to you.
I asked you to support a good cause that had some personal meaning to me and would make a difference and you all did. You gave me a reason to run and for that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
When I say I needed so much more, I am referring to understanding, patience and compromise. Annnnd here come the tears.
Thank you for putting up with my “alcohol-free, early-to-bed Friday nights.”
Thank you for tolerating my crankiness while my body adapted to being tortured four days a week and had sleep removed from its daily regimen.
Thank you for adapting the menu when I showed up to dinner with sweet potatoes because “I have a long run in the morning and I need running fuel.”
Thank you for feeding me when I randomly showed up at the house (mom and dad) all sweaty and gross and then proceed to eat everything in sight.
Thank you for understanding why I needed to postpone Friday night pub night for, like, 5 months.
Thank you for listening to me talk about running… alllll the time. I mean, like all the time. I know, I was annoying.
Thank you for asking me about how training is going even though you know its going to start a really long rambling about running.
Thank you for all your FB “likes” and comments on Nike+ to cheer me on during my runs. I honestly get so excited when my iPod cheers for me.
Thank you for the stories about your loved ones that battled Leukemia or Lymphoma. You brought tears to my eyes — and emotion is running fuel.
Thank you for all the articles, links and magazines you passed on with advice.
Thank you for taking care of me when I thought I could still drink two martinis.
Thank you for the tums when my stomach decided to backlash after I decided to jump full into a 300-crunches a day ab workout. (Yeah, I’ve since toned that down…)
Thank you for not commenting on the smells coming from my day-two running shorts.
Thank you for discussing running shoe brands (Brooks rule!!), hydration belts and fuel packets for periods of time much longer than necessary and I ever thought possible.
Thank you for almost always getting my “egg and ham on a scooped out whole wheat bagel” order correct.
Thank you for letting me stay at your apt in the city Friday night so I didn’t have to take a 5:30am train to get to practice on time.
Thank you for always making sure there were lots of carbo-packed sweet treats sitting around the house — and ice cream for the hot days.
Thank you to my coaches for all your help and support. Esp Coach Christine and Coach Wanda. You are both awesome and kinda my idols.
Thank you for dealing with my taper crankiness.
Thank you for going on spontaneous Saturday morning runs with me when I mis-COOCOO the train schedule and miss practice.
Thank you for all the music recommendations. I LOVED my playlist!
Thank you for all your texts and messages DURING the race… they were so much fun to read afterwards.
Thank you for the congratulatory flowers.
Thank you for your generous gifts and cards before the big day. They meant the world to me.
Thank you for letting me, mom and Andrew stay at your house in San Fran and stepping up as lead Marathon Groupie.
Thank you mom and Andrew for coming to San Francisco. I know you didnt really want to have to go there, but you did for me. :-) It made me so happy to see you guys there.
Thank you for keeping me going. Whenever I felt frustrated and down, someone was there to perk me up, remind me that I was capable of doing whatever it was I wasn’t sure I could do and encourage me to troop on no matter what.
Most of all, thank you for donating to such an amazing cause. LLS provides almost all the funds to help patients get treatment, and they work their butts off to raise money. Like REALLY work their butts off… and some of them run their butts off. lol. Their enthusiasm made me want to work all that much harder.
It took me a while to get to this entry because I didn’t feel confident that I could express the emotion that goes along with what I wanted to say. Now, reading this, I realize I am still not capable of expressing my gratitude. This sucks.
But I honestly don’t know if its possible, so I am going to give you these words for now… and maybe I’ll try again soon. (Saaaaay, with baked goods?)
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! I wish I could hug you all at once.
Of all the interests and sports and extracurriculars that stumble across this blog, there is one topic that rarely rears its head.
The lack of coverage my dating and romantic life receives is not a reflection of my interest in it. In fact, contrary to many of my 30ish-year-old counterparts, I happen to really enjoy dating.
I like the excitement of meeting someone new, asking them 4,000 questions, analyzing all their answers, categorizing them into one of Helen Fisher’s personality descriptions (that’s my favorite part, actually), deciding if their classification mixes with mine and leaving either thrilled at the prospect of a second interview or pleased with my ability to feign interest and a new experience and lesson under my belt.
I also like relationships. I’m pretty intuitive when it comes to knowing what I want and like; rarely does a second date not lead to something long-term. You’re either in or out buddy.
With that said, why don’t I talk about my dating escapades on here? I often ask myself that. And the only conclusion I can come to is that I have yet to find someone I feel comfortable immortalizing on the blog. I refuse to delete or edit my entries after they are posted — or at least after the 24-hour edit period I allow myself after one goes up — so if you make it in, you’re there for good baby.
So here, for the first time, let’s talk about my love life.
I’ve been single since the middle of January. Along with the dreary post-holiday winter months came the end to an enjoyable and pretty healthy relationship. It just wasn’t “right” and I walked away hurt and disappointed on the premise that it “failed” but respectful of the fact that we just didn’t do it for each other. He was a good person. So am I. We just weren’t the kinda good that each other needed.
Ever since I’ve been happily bouncing through life unattached, free to dedicate my time to anything I please. And to be honest, I’ve kinda fallen in love with it.
But as it always goes, I cannot stay single for long. It occurred to me that while I appear on the surface to be single and unattached, I am in a very serious relationship.
For the past five months, I have been in a relationship with my Brooks running sneakers. They are all rolling their eyes thinking, yeah, ok, cute Lizzie, fun analogy; you’re point?
No seriously, hear me out. My approach to running in many ways mimics my approach to relationships. And I’m learning a lot about myself.
For starters, it often requires a huge compromise. Any given day I have a dozen things I need to and want to get done. Many of them do not include sweating around Manhattan, yet I make that compromise to keep the connection between me and “running” strong. I’ve done the “no compromise/ignoring” game in relationships — it doesnt seem to work too well. Significant others seem to want attention. Who knew? My shoes are the same. They are not happy sitting in my closet. Ok, the floor. They never make it home to the closet.
I’m also recognizing a mean competitive streak poking its head out to play. Another trait that tends to flourish in relationships. Just today, on my way out for a run, I was chatting on the phone with a friend who said “I ran a 10k today.” My reply, “Oh yeah? I’ll go run a 10k now.” Clearly he was challenging me, no? That’s what I got from that sentence.
Competitiveness has been a bit of a problem for me in relationships in the past. I am attracted to assertive, ambitious guys. Ambition breeds competition. Before you know it, I’m playing the “I can do it better” game with the one I love. (And for some reason we are never playing that game in the bedroom.)
Just like a boyfriend, my run proceeded to mess with my head for the five miles I did complete (failed on the 10k front). Too fast, too slow, too out of breath. I was all over the place. I just could not get my feet to listen and I was not listening to them. Sh!t happens! Sometimes communication just sucks.
Note to self: Buy a Garmin running watch. Nike+ is cool but there is no way you sped up from a 10:34 pace to a 7:51 instantly. The GPS tracking is all over the place.
PS Note to self: Win lotto to afford Garmin running watch.
Running, like [some of] my boyfriends makes me very proud. We share milestones together. Today, even though we were lacking the ability to communicate clearly, was one of those days I wanted to give running a big high-five, smooch on the lips. Today we hit 300 miles on Nike+. Yay Lizzie and Brooks. You guys rock!
Another tendency in my relationships is to eat more… like a lot more… than is normal and necessary for my body size. Maybe its some weird suppressed issue, but eating must turn me on because I seem to find men who had to be extreme eaters in another life. And (note the competitive comment above), I sometimes see it as a challenge. I AM NOT PROUD OF THIS. But when they sit down to a three-course meal of meat and sweets, you sure as hell bet that I will be eating the same. I once had a BF drop his fork on the table and gawk at me like a zoo animal… “I seriously just can not believe how much you eat sometimes. It doesn’t seem feasible.” Umm… yeah, it is!
Running also makes me eat… a lot!! Thank you running!
On the positive side, running has brought out my positive qualities, like a healthy relationship should. It’s helped me slow down and pace my life (more to come on that), as well as boosting up my butt and giving me some hamstring muscles. I’ve allllways wanted hamstrings. Like wanted them like the way a LI girl wants a monster Tiffany’s engagement ring.
Oh, and did I mention running gave me a Tiffany’s necklace? Yeah, it did. It’s an awesome BF.
Anyways, all this time I thought I was single and I’m really not. I’m wholeheartedly dedicated and very deep in like with my running shoes and the wind in my hair. I’m even more in like with it now that its 55-degrees in the evening and not 90. Cool enough to wear my new long sleeve pink running shirt, but warm enough that all the men running are still in shorts. Yay running thighs. I’m such a sucker for quads. [shudder] Sooo sexy!
This relationship seems to suit me. It’s easy. It’s rewarding. Its supportive. Its healthy. More of my friends are taking it up so we can double date. And most of all it makes me smile.
“They” say ‘you know when it’s right.’ So until I meet someone who I want immortalized on the blog, I’m gonna stick with my Brooks.
After five months together, we are in that comfy stage where we’re not afraid to get a little dirty with each other.