Enjoying the sun

Pointing my way to work.

Thirteen months after having my daughter I have finally started to run again.  Now, I don’t know if I can actually say “again” since my running life was a short 3 years.  Anyway, I have 10 lbs of baby weight left to lose and then 20 lbs of weight-that-should-have-been-lost-before-I-got-pregnant to lose.  I could probably stand to lose more than 30 lbs but BACK OFF, I’m trying.

Day one of running was pathetic.  Intermittent intervals of running and lots of walking.  I had on stupid shoes I thought would work and a small playlist of 10 songs.   I at least found out that my route is 1.5 miles long, give or take.

Over the weekend I readied myself to run in the park.  I got Nora and we headed off.  We were apparently a little late since it was overrun with ladies strolling and soccer kids marauding.  I attempted to use the C25K app I had downloaded on my phone but I am one of the few people that this program does not work for.  The shoes I thought would work turned out to be horrible (I had to take ibuprofen for two days my legs hurt so badly) and did I mention the hills?  Nora, ever the trooper, fell asleep during the ordeal.  We won’t even talk about Sunday.  Let’s just say 80 year olds walking their toy dogs lapped me.  Sigh. And did I mention the hills?

So, I sulk on Monday and then Tuesday it turns around. I traded out my shoes for an old pair of Asics I had from back-in-the-day and ran a different course.  Success!  I have no idea how to gauge this, whether it’s a good distance or not, but I think I ran about ½ a mile solid, which may be quite pathetic but it made me happy.  It was what I needed to keep at this.

I am hoping this will stick and by the time we’re ready for Baby #2 my fantasy of zipping up non-maternity pants before my child reaches high school may come true.

 Our daughter Nora just turned one a couple of weeks ago.  It’s incredible how time works.  The first three months were pure bliss for me.  Floating through maternity leave, enjoying the Fall weather and the smell of new baby.  The next three months seemed to go by much slower.  Maybe being back amongst the working had something to do with it.  It seemed like she would always be on her tummy, crawling away and then BAM!  She’s standing, then cruising and then full on walking and then she’s asking you for the keys to your car so she can go out Friday night. 

Babyhood flies by faster than you think.  The beginning kind of lulls you into small changes.  She rolled over!  She grabbed something!  She smiled!  You think, I’m enjoying this and suddenly you find yourself trying to figure out which new car seat to get since she’s too tall for her pumpkin seat and pondering the pros and cons of buying Stride Rite’s since she hasn’t developed an arch yet but is already running a 5k every morning before you leave for work.

I guess what I’m saying is that the speed at which things have gone is amazing to me.  There’s this phenomenon I’ve noticed, and I’m sure you have too; as you get older time goes by faster, like our own relativity scale increases.  High school took an eternity and college flew by.  I blinked and grad school was over.  I need to learn to savor the moment, to be “present”. This has always been difficult for me.  I have wonderful memories but I want to have wonderful, truly actualized experiences, snapshots at least.  Maybe I need to take up yoga or meditation or see a counselor about slowing down and lessening anxiety/stress/real life.  I don’t want to be absent in this amazing life I am fortunate enough to lead.  I want to enjoy every single second.  Ok, well maybe not every single second but where it counts.  I guess this is the lament of so many people, with or without children.  (Look at me trying to lump you all in with me so I look normal.  I’m tricky that way.)  But truly, real life makes you dizzy and rushed and unable to have the luxury of experience.  If one of you figures out the secret to this let me know.  I’d like in on it.

My loves.

I tend not to go into the office on travel days which leaves me a bit anxious.  I feel a bit guilty not going in, as long as there isn’t anything pressing, but remind myself that I’m away from home for about two days solid.

It’s weird, sitting at home, checking email, catching some time with Adam before I leave.  It’s not calm, it’s waiting.  Waiting for loading the car and the eventual airport goodbye.    I know – buck up it’s not that big of a deal.  I should internalize that.  The trip will be fine and I’ll have fun with my co-workers I’ll just be looking forward to coming home.

Photo by CLC Photography

Every Sunday we read the New York Times. It’s a tradition and we really enjoy it, that is until I come upon the Style section and read this regular feature called , “A Night Out With”. They write about a fabulous night in the lives of glamorous people (or so they would have you believe). Making going to the local pub seem as though it’s an international style event. Jealousy? Maybe. Frustration that someone’s lifestyle is thrust upon me as desirable? Definitely. It’s all in how you write it apparently.

I’ve found the key is to name, title and label drop and make everything seem so fabulously fabulous. I do not think I lead a glamorous high-powered life. I help do research, have a neglected yard, watch too much tv, am very lucky Adam drives me to work and hang out with my awesome friends. Oh so chic I tell ya!

So, here is my life a la Night Out With: Laura Swisher

It’s six o’clock and there are no shorts to be found.

“I just did a load of clothes. Don’t tell me I forgot to wash them!”

Among flying Massimo t-shirt after Massimo t-shirt, Laura Swisher, Sr. Research Coordinator at venerable Washington University, finally finds her husband’s Adidas basketball shorts.

“Finally! You have to dress up for your man if you want to keep things hot,” she says with a flash in her eyes as she quickly dons the roomy shorts.

After a long day of talking to union members and putting out fires she’s tidying her three story rented home in the Shaw neighborhood in the city of St. Louis. Her friend, Kelly Warner, Assistant Director of Research at Washington University, will be coming over shortly for wine and burgers.

Nestled in weathered deck furniture amongst the English garden like surroundings of the backyard the grilling begins. The first round of chilled Smoking Loon chardonnay is poured and her husband fires up the grill.

“Celebrities these days seem so cookie cutter, “ opines Laura’s husband of two months Adam Swisher, Senior Training Consultant for Rockhurst University.

“Yeah, where are the stars like when we were growing up? Where are the Alley Sheedy’s?” Kelly agrees as they continue to talk of their longing for the Brat Pack of their youth.

Laura’s evenings are usually spent relaxing on the settee watching the popular British show “Top Gear” or talking on the phone to her friends in Philadelphia.

“You know it’s really important to keep in touch with your friends no matter how far away they are.”

Her job often takes her to exotic places in Door County, WI but she doesn’t let all of the traveling go to her head.

“Sometimes she brings this really fabulous cheese or even cheese curds back from her travels. She likes to keep it low key,” her husband dishes.

“We miss her when she’s gone.” Referring to himself and their two boutique blended dogs, Alfalfa and Newton.

It’s Monday Morning and time for her driver to take her the 10 minutes to work. She casually enters the car in her HandM wrap dress and Ken Cole flats, making sure to not expose too much.

“Don’t want to have a Lohan moment,” she says as the door is closed.

I’ve spent too much time looking at http://www.awfulplasticsurgery.com and am now more convinced then ever that Hollywood is its own planet.  I’m talking purely aesthetics because I can speak of nothing else.  I think that so many people have bad plastic surgery that they no longer know what beauty is and maim themselves trying to reflect the surgeon’s interpretation of beauty and youth.  They all look normal to one another.  Scary for sure.

I cling to this belief that men like normal girls.  That they are happy with their wives, girlfriends, girl across the street.  Don’t ruin it for me ok?