A look back before going forward

I have never been an athlete. I was always the last chosen for elementary school PE games. And even when a team captain finally gave me a nod and a wave over, I usually wanted to respond, “No, really, you don’t want me.”

I couldn’t do a pull up or a push up, and I could only do one half sit up. I got winded easily – actually had a cardiovascular birth defect that was surgically repaired when I was 19. But the physical limitation wasn’t what held me back. I just wasn’t sports-minded. I would flinch every time a round object headed my way. My arms didn’t know to rise and catch. They still don’t. I duck and cover. To this day.

Until a year ago, doing a marathon was outside of the realm of any of my desires or thoughts. When my walking partner proposed we go for doing a marathon in 2007, my answer was simple, “No.” Only I didn’t want to appear closed off, so I probably said, “Wow! Interesting.” But inside, I was definite: No. We started to train anyway, just to explore the option. I had no idea walkers did marathons. I thought it was strictly for real athletes. Runners. People who look like this:

Not this:

Yep. That was me, June 3, 2007. Doing it. Still brings a happy half sob to my sternum to type those words, Doing it.

Here’s the thing. I went 18. Not 26.2. I didn’t stop at 18, I took this special option written about in the fine print of the marathon’s website:

Overheard during lunch

After my haircut yesterday, after my visit to Mecca for liberation, before my stop at the toy store and Urban Outfitters, I went to my new favorite Mexican restaurant. It had always been number 2 until November 4th, when it got an unexpected promotion.

I sat at the bar thinking, This salsa cannot beat TJ’s but it’ll do in the absence of TJ’s, when I overheard a man sitting a few seats over.

He yells, apparently to a voice mail recorder: Hey. I heard you all were under whelmed with the Christmas gifts. I told you I wasn’t done yet. So, don’t trip Chocolate Chip–

Timeout: That was a first for me. Don’t trip Chocolate Chip? Uh. Yeah. Verbatim. But there’s more.

LCPM (Loud Cell Phone Man): — I have a friend at the Adidas store who is hooking you up with some gifts . . .

iWill Power

Alright. It’s been 3 years and a change of employers, perhaps I can push up against the guardrail of the NDA (Non-Disclosure Agreement) I signed way back when. Just to be clear, I am not going to disclose anything I agreed to not to disclose. But I am going to tell you that standing in a gorgeous digital screening room reviewing a spot-in-progress for a widely coveted gizmo (now an ancient toy ) with several advertising execs, some of whom had God’s number on speed dial (that’s the God most commonly pronounced with an “S-t-” and rhymes with heave), somehow put a yearning into my cells.

It was Fall 2004: I saw the green (it was a special green …. long deliberated over by many highly paid people sipping expensive water talking about The Greenness of the green). I heard the snappy punky pop tune again & again & again.  And again. I bore witness to conversations I cannot share (remember the NDA); conversations about drop shadows on silhouettes of shoelaces; conversations about the virtues of soy milk. Conversations about the green. I tried very hard to focus on the task at hand – getting the spot completed and shipped for air. After all, I wasn’t the audience, I was a small and marginal part of the team behind the scenes. But it didn’t matter. I became infected. I longed for one of the gizmos.

Eventually, after I shook that job, and later recovered financially from having opted temporarily for unemployment, after I went through an awakening of less materialistic ideals, I still wanted one of Those Things. Hint: it puts music in our ears and a skip in our step. I had waited long enough. I succumbed with no regrets.

Later I bought a new laptop by the same deified corporation because it was pretty & silver & came with a neato remote control and besides, I wanted Andy to have my older one. An already apparent confession: I do worship idols and I’m touching my favorite one right now. It’s shining its light onto my face as I type these words and I’m in deep praise of it as I breathe this breath. Unless you print this blog, you’re looking at yours too. Aren’t they wonderful?

So today I walked straight into Mecca and held 2007′s holy grail for 20 minutes. It was a premeditated shopping event. I can recite the calling/data plans available for this iTem. I’ve been interviewing friends & family about their iThings for weeks now. I even asked NG about her relationship with hers. She gave me the affection-filled pros and some well thought out cons. I was ready to fall in love. I even have the money in the bank (Thanks, Mom & Dad, I mean, Santa.)

But after a little time touching the touch, something unexpected happened. I realized I didn’t want it. I tried to want it. But I couldn’t even summon a minimal level of desire. I guess I’m a button gal. More importantly, now I can be sure of a significant fact: Steve Jobs Hasn’t Taken Control of my Entire Being. I’m free.

So, I took my freedom down the block & bought an erector set of Big Ben and a Run DMC tshirt. It was a good day.

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UPDATE: Less than one month later, I bought an iPhone.

A Day Of Giving

Those of you paying attention to the Holidailies blog know that yesterday was “A Day of Giving”.

This year’s Day of Giving designated charity is: First Book.

When I think about the words “first book”, a lot of memories come to mind.

Still at work

Back to work

Interesting turn of events today at work. After the first 7 hours of what I anticipated was going to be an 11 hour day — just as soon as we were settling down to dig in for a long night, the power went out. We had enough sunlight left to find the matches & candles. Enough candles to find the flashlights. Enough flashlights to pack up and get out. Now I’m at home where the iPod shuffle is currently playing Desolation Row; I’ve got red wine, cheeses left over from Christmas, and the few spreadsheets I’d managed to print before we lost electricity. A few spreadsheets = too many spreadsheets. Nonetheless – no matter what happens – tomorrow is Friday.

Allah hu Akbar!