New Running Shoes

Since I appear to be serious about this running thing, I decided to invest in a pair of running shoes. My neighbor R. recommended I check out this cute little shop in Greensboro called Off'N Running (the "cute little shop" is my doing, not R's).  I stopped in today and had such fun--not something I typically associate with shoe shopping.

When selecting the proper running shoe, one does not (as I admittedly have in the past) buy the shoes based on color and or level of cuteness. No, no. There is a whole science to the process.

First I stood on the floor in bare feet while they examined me for...actually, I don't know. But the sales guy seemed interested in how I stood. Then I had to walk the length of the store and back. Then they looked at my current running shoes to see where they were worn and how I used them. Apparently, I have a slight pronation on my left foot.  Or in layman's terms, my foot rolls inward when I walk/run.

Based on what he observed, the owner brought out 3 pairs of shoes. (Side note: I wear an 8 1/2 and sometimes a 9 but had to go to a 9 1/2 in a running shoe! The owner swore it's because they size them small but geez, what woman wants to buy a 9 1/2 shoe? I made him swear to tell anyone who asks that I purchased a 7). 

Here's the fun part. Not only did I get to try on each pair of shoes, but they put me on a treadmill and had me jog at a moderate pace for a minute in each of the shoes so they could observe the support and how my feet were turning. Only then was the correct pair singled out.

Can you picture this sort of treatment for ladies heels? "Well ma'am, your toes appear only moderately pinched in the suede model and as long as you cling to your date for support and never attempt to walk independently, I think those 4-inch heels will serve you well. But hop on out there on our store dance floor and let's see how they look."

So I can't wait to try out  my new super cool (but--sigh--not all that pretty) new running shoes. I'm planning an hour's run on Sunday so we'll see how they do then.

Phone Interviews

I spend a fair amount of time on the phone, interviewing people for the articles I'm writing. I've learned to almost enjoy this process. I am not a phone person and it would never, ever occur to me to call a friend just to "see what's up." Even if Blair and I are apart due to one of us traveling, we'll do a 5-minute "Hey, I got to the hotel okay" call and then won't speak for the next week or two that we're out of town. (He's not a phone talker, either). But interview phone calls have a purpose and are usually under 30 minutes each, so I deal with them.

My first phone interview was years ago with a breeder of Black & Tan Coonhounds for a  breed profile I wrote for Dog & Kennel. I was so nervous beforehand. I was afraid the woman would be able to tell I'd never interviewed anyone before, afraid I wouldn't ask the right questions, wouldn't get the answers I needed, etc. It's funny, as conducting interviews for breed profiles are so second nature now, I don't even need to prepare beforehand.

 But I was supposed to have an interview yesterday with an animal behaviorist and I did prepare for it. I'm writing a humor article for an animal newsletter that comes out of a large research university.  The editor wants a few expert opinions sprinkled in about why animals bring humor to our lives and why that's good for us. So, fine. I e-mailed this behaviorist and we set a time yesterday afternoon to talk.

I called at the time, and he wasn't there. I called back 15 minutes later, still not there (he'd warned me he might be late). I left a message and he called me back about 40 minutes later.  I thanked him for calling and asked my standard, "Is this a good time for you?" pre-interview question.

And he went off. Politely, but still with a lot of tension and nerves behind his voice. He told me it was not a good time and he knew when he set the appointment with me it wouldn't be.  His graduate students needed his attention, his family was sick, he had to travel, plus he's already given interviews to so and so for this magazine and on and on.  I tried to interject once or twice that it wasn't crucial I get the interview that day but he talked over me.  Finally he admitted he didn't want to do the interview, didn't have time.  

I'm fine with that. People have lives and there's always other people I can find to talk to. But after he gave me this litany of reasons why he couldn't do it and that he didn't want to do it, he sighed, sounding exasperated and said, "I suppose I could squeeze out an hour next Tuesday if I absolutely had to--" I cut him off and insisted I would be fine and able to locate another source.  He hesitated a bit and then thanked me and we hung up.

The whole conversation was just very odd. People have such a hard time saying no. It's clear he never should have agreed to the interview in the first place as he's already loaded to the max. But what amazed me was that after he spent the time covering with me why he couldn't do it, and I agreed, he backtracked and was going to find time to fit me in. Even though I could tell he would have been ticked if I'd taken him up on it. 

But most people are happy to be interviewed and what I've found is they are usually much more nervous than me. They want to make sure they sound good and give solid information. So part of my job as an interviewer is to get them to relax, which relaxes me in the process.

But I still don't like the phone... 

Cats & Allergies--Uh-Oh.

Being allergic to cats and having two of them we keep indoors, I'm used to having a semi-constant sniffle. But something unknown has happened the last three weeks and I am a heaving, dripping, snotty, sneezing allergic wreck of a person.

It's definitely something at home causing the problem. I'm fine when I'm in my car or out for the day. But within an hour of returning home I have to remove  my contacts because they're covered in eye gunk.  I'm blowing my nose every five minutes and half the time I sound like Mushmouth from the old Fat Albert show because I'm talking through my stuffed up nose.  My eyes stay raw and red-rimmed from my rubbing them so much and I wake up every 30 minutes at night with dry mouth because I'm breathing through my mouth instead of my nose.

We're not doing anything different - no new washing detergent or plants or anything like that. We're not cleaning quite as often as we used to, so that probably contributes as does the constant rain we've been  having ("mold" is one of  my strongest allergies). But I have to face facts that it's the cats who are making me miserable.

Not that I intend to do anything about that other than suck it up and take it. I am trying to get better about washing my hands after I touch a cat.  (So now I'm washing my hands about 80 times/day. ) But I'm pretty much taking the road of "maybe if I ignore it, it will go away on it's own."

Give up my cats? NEVER!  I'll explode first. 

From Start to Finish

Happy 4th! I ran my first 5k this morning at the 11th Annual Rotary Club 4th of July 5K Run in Kernersville, NC.  To the left you'll see me, R. and M. before the race.  My time was 28:57 which translates into a 9 minute 20 second mile. I finished 9th in my age division (Women 35-39). That sounds impressive until I tell you there were only 15 women in my division! The winner in my age group had a time of 20:50, which averages out to a 6 minute 43 second mile. You betcha.

 I had a lot of fun but it was harder than I would have thought. When I jog around town, I probably trot at about a 10-minute mile. So the pace was a good bit faster here.  Even so, I was s-l-o-w compared to the people who were running to win. The serious racers were jogging warm-up miles before the race actually started. The course was set up so you ran 1/2 way, turned around and ran back the way you came. I wasn't even to the halfway point when the lead runners passed me on their way to the finish. These people were moving.The overall winner was a 19-year old boy with a time of 19 minutes, or a 6:08 mile.

M. won her age division for women. We whooped it up when her name was announced. 

The best part was that starting out, there was a dad behind me pushing a running stroller with two 3-year-olds in it.  You'd think I'd stand a chance, right? Ha. I ate his dust. Didn't even see him after about the first 4 minutes. He smoked me and most of the people around us.

Then there was the 74 year-old woman who just beat me across the finish line. I found out later that she's like a national champion or something in her age group so I was slightly mollified but still...74.  

But I definitely have the bug now.  There was something intoxicating bout feeling a part of this group of people stretching and milling about with our numbers pinned to our shirts. We were competing, yes, but there was a bond there was well. We were all there for the same reason. We all tread the same ground--some faster than others, but the same ground nonetheless. It was like being part of a brotherhood. I felt like I had been let into the ranks of a privileged group.

I can't wait for the next race.