Amy Lu's View

As we enter the Year of the Rabbit, I (of course) did some Googling and read that this year will be a time for introspection, peace, meditation, and calm.

This surprised me. I’m no expert on rabbits, but I do not think of them as symbolizing any of these characteristics or activities. I think of rabbits as being jittery, anxious, excitable and distracted. 

Yes, I identify with my version of a rabbit. 

But perhaps my symbolic rabbit (let’s call her Mabel as I think that is the name of my plush Grandma’s Marathon rabbit) has the potential to be more. Just like I proposed in my last post about the possibilities for Couch Potato to have multiple and expansive identities, Mabel can be more than what others, or herself, expect her to be. Not that Mabel has to give up being her typical, comfortable, on-brand self (let’s call it “energetic”)–but she doesn’t have to be limited to that. 

I’m sensing a theme with two blog posts in a row on expanding identities. Why does seeing others and myself  in new ways appeal to me so strongly? Am I just inspired by the new year? Am I feeling a mid-life urge to shake things up a bit?

I know that one specific, useful, and thematically appropriate Year of the Rabbit way I could expand my M.O. is to practice mediation–but I don’t expect that to happen in the near future. This isn’t because I don’t see the value of meditation, but it just feels so not like me, so uncomfortable to me. Which of course is one of the main reasons I should try it. I think meditation is useful and helpful for everyone, but especially for those of us who really struggle with slowing down and sitting (literally and metaphorically) with our thoughts. 

I’m not giving up on ever meditating, and in fact aspire to–someday. Until then, I’m open to easing into meditation with meditation-adjacent activities, such as my daily dance break when I try to just focus on dancing and the song I’m listening to. 

I’m clearly not meditative, but what about some of the other characteristics of this new Chinese year? I especially wonder if I’m introspective. I think about my thoughts and feelings a lot–but I’m not sure that’s introspective as much as narcissistic and obsessive. I don’t reflect as much as I perseverate and ruminate (yes, I really wanted to use those words because they sound cool). 

Still, this attention I pay to what’s going on with the inner me could be the basis for something more reflective and meaningful. I could go beyond just thinking about what I’m thinking and wonder WHY I’m thinking and feeling something and what it might mean and what I might want to do with that insight. 

The Year of the Rabbit–at least in its introspective, peaceful, meditative, and calm aspects–doesn’t really seem like a year for me, but maybe I can make it my own, at least sometimes. 

The next time you see me flailing around like an unhinged muppet, consider that I could still be feeling calm and peaceful under all that frazzled activity.

Unitarian Universalists don’t have a bible. Although we often find inspiration in the Christian bible, we’re not obligated to revere any specific text. We’re encouraged to open our hearts and minds to wisdom and meaning we may encounter in a variety of sources.

We do receive guidance from our church – we have a hymnal filled with beautiful and profound hymns and readings among other resources. Many of us develop our favorite sources that comprise our personal and local congregation “bibles.” I’m pretty sure Mary Oliver’s poem “Wild Geese” makes the cut for many. 

Chad and I are doing our best to add the children’s picture book “Couch Potato” by Jory John to the canon of our church, Michael Servetus. This past Sunday I read it during our church service – the second time in the last twelve months. I also read it during the height of the pandemic when our services were entirely via Zoom. 

It’s not surprising that Chad and I find great wisdom in a children’s book. My “Frog and Toad” blog challenge started after I read a couple of Frog and Toad stories for church services. (Frog and Toad stories are definitely part of our bible). But why are we so drawn to “Couch Potato”?

We used it most recently to illustrate one of the themes of the sermon Chad gave: that we should be careful about becoming too “centered,” too comfortable in our beliefs and practices and ways of being in the world. 

On the surface, it’s a simple, if highly delightful, book about a literal couch potato, who discovers he doesn’t also have to be a metaphorical couch potato. That’s a great takeaway, but what makes it spiritually meaningful?

Beyond the message of not getting stuck in a spiritual or lifestyle rut, it’s full of little nuggets that can speak to us at different times and in different circumstances.

Personally, I was especially moved after days of cloudy gloom by the line: “The sun seemed brighter than I remembered.” Definitely a call to truly appreciate the seemingly mundane things we take for granted. 

I was challenged by the line: “We might watch the clouds. There’s no big plan. We just see what happens.” No big plan?! How about a small one? Or, perhaps I could explore what it would be like to sometimes not have a plan?

Speaking of possibilities…I was inspired by Potato realizing that he didn’t only have to be a couch potato, or be limited to being only one potato of any type:

“It makes me wonder…what if I don’t always need to be totally comfortable?…Because it turns out that I’m more than just a couch potato. I’m an amusing potato. I’m a smart potato. I’m a kind potato. I’m an entertaining potato.And I’m a sit-on-a-hill-and-watch-the-sunset potato.”

This feels like an especially timely message at the new year – at their best, resolutions encourage us to try and be new things.

Having more than one identity or role in life can be disconcerting and make us feel off balance, but it can also open us up to a fuller life. And just as we may yearn to be more than one narrowly defined type of person, we should support others as they expand beyond our conceptions of them.

The day after the Sunday service, I set out to read an article from one of Chad’s seminary classes, (“The Perils and Possibilities of Multiplicity” by Cynthia Linder) and it was about this very idea: we all have multiple selves that we need to have the courage to explore and honor and integrate.  

Okay, I don’t believe in fate, but maybe I need to sometimes be a Fate Believer Potato because this article was really just the academic version of Couch Potato!! What are the chances that I would read these insightful writings back to back?

Maybe there IS a Supreme Deity and it’s a potato. 

At about 2:00 this afternoon, I noticed my brain wasn’t fuzzy and that I was able to think clearly (or as clearly as I ever can). 

I officially declare that my “I’ve recovered from Covid” moment. As I think back on it, I’m pretty sure majestic orchestral music played while a beam of heavenly light shone down on me. 

I tested positive for my first–and hopefully last–case of Covid on January 4. Yes, poor Chad literally started the new year with having Covid, and I followed in his footsteps just a few days later. It was actually a type of relief when I officially had Covid because I didn’t have to try and avoid Chad and constantly worry about getting Covid anymore. 

Of course, in the hours since that hallelujah time of feeling over Covid, I have become slightly congested, because there doesn’t seem to be a hard and fast line between Covid and non-Covid life. I definitely feel much better than I did, but I think I’m going to continue to have some lingering Covid-related irritations. Not Long Covid or anything serious, but just a “I had a lot of mucus in my head for several days and that takes a while to resolve” situation. 

The world probably doesn’t need another–or any–blog post about sinus congestion, but I’m definitely following the “write what you know” adage, and for the last twelve days I’ve known Covid. Having Covid means I’ve known congestion…and tiredness, frustration, anxiety, and gratitude. 

I am so grateful that I had a mild case of Covid (which I attribute to being fully vaccinated and boosted, praise be) and that I’m not in any high risk categories. Having Covid was annoying and unpleasant, but not life-threatening–like it was for my sister, who had to be hospitalized because of Covid. I never had a fever, body aches, a cough, or messed up sense of smell and taste. Mostly I was just congested, and that didn’t even seem that bad (I could usually still breathe through my nose) until it started to feel never-ending. 

I’m also really grateful that I have plenty of sick time and can work from home and I didn’t have to try and take care of children or aging parents when I felt icky. 

The most challenging thing for me about having Covid was it was a powerful reminder that I am not in control–at least not to the extent I usually can pretend that I am. I couldn’t will my head to clear up, or summon up more energy. I couldn’t decree the at-home tests would have a negative result. (I learned that people can still test positive after 10 days but that doesn’t mean they’re contagious and the CDC guidelines say that can be out of quarantine: https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2022/06/30/1108615724/positive-test-isolation)

Covid didn’t care that I had plans and that I really wanted to go to play rehearsal. (Although I am extremely grateful that I didn’t actually have to cancel that many plans and that rehearsal-via-Zoom was a good option). 

It’s not surprising that I felt frustrated that I couldn’t be around other non-Chamy people and do the things I wanted to do, but I also started to get worried that after spending so much time sequestered at home I wouldn’t be able to function out in the world. Maybe I would emerge from having Covid as a person who was mostly equipped and motivated to hang out on the couch watching “Interview with the Vampire” (which OMG is AMAZING and a definite upside of Covid is it gave me the time and inspiration to watch it). 

I also had similar fears about my ability to re-enter the world during the Covid lockdowns of 2020/21, and that time did help me realize that I actually do like spending more time at home and that having more downtime is a good thing for me. So I guess if having Covid transformed me into someone more comfortable with and qualified for extended TV and lounge pants time that would be okay, too. (I don’t think that’s happened though–yesterday I went to church and accomplished some things and it felt really good and energizing). 

I’d like to say that having Covid has given me more appreciation for my health and everything my body can do (even when it doesn’t look quite like I want it to in a particular dress) and more empathy and compassion for people who are dealing with chronic illness. And it has–but I know that as I move farther away from my Covid time, the insights I’ve gained will feel less real and I’ll need to keep re-discovering them. 

One Having Covid Life Lesson I do think I will retain is that Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid (stars of “Interview with the Vampire”) are extremely attractive young men.

To reflect on the passing of 2022, it seems like a good idea to consider things I’ve learned this year–big things, little things, profound things, silly things. I’m grateful for all these life lessons, discoveries, and mini-epiphanies (I’ve already blogged about some of them under the umbrella of gratitude) and am amazed how knowledge can come to us through intention (and Googling) and seeming accident.

22 things I learned in 2022 (in no particular order):

1. Dry shampoo is bad for you (me/us).
2. The difference between a content inventory and a content audit (I took online classes on Content Management and Information Architecture and I actually learned quite a bit but this is nice snippet)
3. I might like flavored coffee a little bit.
4. I really like scent diffuser sticks.
5. I can do a home Covid test without it being a big whoo.
6. I can keep houseplants alive (at least for 10 months) but I don’t know how to start a Chia Pet.
7. “Freudenfreude”–taking joy in others’ success, the opposite of Schadenfreude–is a thing (according to the New York Times) and I want to experience it more often.
8. There are a lot of weird and obscure Grimm’s fairy tales out there (I learned this from the play we did this summer). 
9. If I don’t shut the refrigerator door so hard, the water bottles will fall off the top of it less often.
10. A skirt I haven’t worn since the pandemic started still fits.
11. How to get text messages on our Chromebook.
12. Avatar did NOT come out in the 90’s when we lived in Iowa.
13. When I am purchasing latch hook kits I should make sure they have pre-printed canvases.
14. I am interested in CBD/THC seltzers.  
15. Jodie Whittaker (Doctor Who) is younger than I thought.
16. Having a new working can opener really reduces my stress levels.
17. I can complete a marathon with a less intensive training program.
18. Como Park is a great place to see free live music in the summer.
19. Don’t order top shelf bourbon from The Times (restaurant/bar in Minneapolis).
20. I should have reading glasses with me whenever I’m out in the world (except for when I’m running).
21. I should let loose and be more expressive when I sing and not worry so much about being cheesy.
22. “2022” is a really fun year to write/type and I think I’m going to miss doing that. 

I know I learned more than these 22 things in 2022, but this is what I can best convey (and remember) as I write this post. I’m looking forward to discovering what I will learn in (and blog about) in 2023. 

I used to be afraid of the dark. Now it just makes me mad. 

I was afraid of the dark not just when I was a kid, but also as an adult, well into my thirties. I’d probably still be afraid of it depending on the circumstances, but now I rarely encounter, or worry about encountering, situations where I find the dark scary. 

In fact, I actually prefer the dark sometimes. Okay, I actually demand it–especially when it comes to sleeping and I find almost any amount of light irritating. My change for light tolerance is perplexing and irritating for Chad, particularly when he wonders, “So now I can’t have a reading light in bed? Didn’t you used to be afraid of the dark?” 

Well Chad, people change. Context matters. 

I’m trying to keep this insight in mind as we “celebrate” Winter Solstice time. For while I like darkness in my bedroom when I’m trying to sleep, I do NOT like it out in the world when we have less than 9 hours of daylight. I also do not like the cold, and while maybe I could handle long nights, long nights while I’m freezing my ass off is a hard NO for me. 

I’m declaring this in the spirit of authenticity as Chad and I just led a Winter Solstice service yesterday. We shared several beautiful and insightful readings (from others) about the value of the Winter Solstice–not because it signals that days are getting longer and we’ve survived the worst of this dark winter hellscape, but because there is meaning and value and sacredness in the dark in and of itself. 

I appreciate that, I even believe that, but I don’t feel it. While I can somewhat appreciate “darkness” and “winter” as metaphors, I pretty much despise and loathe every literal aspect of our current cold and dark weather and climate (and I didn’t even have to do any shoveling because of this last storm. That’s what Chad’s for. Hey, I somewhat earn my keep–I clean the litter box and take out the garbage and recycling when the weather is decent). 

I’m not JUST venting/bitching/complaining–I think unless we honestly embrace how we feel, our metaphors and spiritual insights lose their power. If I’m not upfront about how much I hate this time of the longest night, I won’t really find any meaning in either dealing with it or leaning into it. 

Maybe someday I will learn to appreciate, even prefer, the dark and cold environment, just like I changed my mind about dark bedrooms. (I just hope any change of heart isn’t because of climate change). But until then, I’ll stick with celebrating the Winter Solstice with the “Thank god/goddess/universe/bourbon that at least the days get longer from here.” 

Because of Amnesty International, I know there is a proverb (Chinese, according to Google) that advises “Better to light one candle, than to curse the darkness.”

Well, I’m going to light one candle, AND curse the darkness. And have some bourbon. And try not to knock over the candle. And appreciate how good it smells (cheap sugar cookie scented candle from CVS bought last night for aforementioned Solstice Service) and hope the scent doesn’t trigger sinus issues (at least not ones worse than that already triggered by alcohol and tea). 

If I ever get to a point in my spiritual journey where I do appreciate darkness and cold, it will be all the more profound because of where I currently am and how far I will have traveled/progressed. And if I get “stuck” here, at least I made it this far–and warmer, longer days are coming!

Now that the faux turkey leftovers from Thanksgiving are finished (they lasted three days!) and our oven is once again filled with chips and crackers (although still basically debris-free), I feel it’s time for a traditional reflection on what I’m grateful for. 

When I pause to reflect on all the many things I have to be grateful for, my heart usually first turns to food (and beverages) and clothes–the little delights and treats and comforts that bring physical pleasure into my life and make me feel good. While I continue to love all my mundane indulgences (many staples remain as part of my life, a few have lost their luster or worn out, and a few new ones have been discovered), I want to avoid yet another blog post about food and drink and clothes. 

So here is a list, in no particular order and by no means exhaustive, of some things I’m thankful for that more or less are somehow connected to the last year:

• Finding one of my dresses from high school, and my 1985 high school yearbook, and my hair crimper (which still works) in case any of these relics are needed for the upcoming one-act I’m in, which has a 1985 setting (in a way)
• Chad starting seminary
• Taking voice lessons at Sarah Jane’s Music school and my incredibly supportive teacher
• Resuming in-person church services (while still having the option to stay home and use Zoom)
• Gigs for our band Pigeons from Hell, including our return to the Driftwood Char Bar this week!
• Covid vaccine and boosters, at-home Covid tests, and NOT getting Covid
• Every time we still have room left in our recycling bin
• We had our credit card returned to us after our server at Crooners accidentally gave it to another customer
• Successfully saving socks from StanLee
• That our new neighbors on both sides of our house are cool and don’t seem too perturbed with StanLee’s shenanigans. I’m especially thankful that the three dogs who now live next door are pretty chill about StanLee and he even seems to be friends with one of them!
• Getting a new phone after mine was “lost”
• Air freshener diffuser sticks 
• Wordle
• Thankful every time I find my car after I go somewhere, anywhere, and park it–but especially at a State Park
• Houseplants that I got from Chad for my birthday are still alive
• Getting a haircut and now having layers
• My home office (although I still need to organize it better)
• Midterm election results
• That I successfully ran the Twin Cities Marathon (it was inevitable that I would mention this)
• Our new furnace/AC and a new refrigerator
• Our couch (and that cats aren’t destroying it)
• I had my toenail successfully removed and was able to run fairly soon afterwards (yes, this was a planned medical procedure that I’m happy to describe more in person)
• Coming up with a title for a blog post!

“We were just two people being wrong. We don’t get to have a special name for that.”

–Chad

Chad explained to me that we were just wrong, not special, as I was wondering if we had recently experienced “The Mandela Effect” by misremembering that the movie “Avatar” was released in the mid-nineties. We didn’t simply get the release date wrong, but we subjected our friends who were part of the conversation to a whole little story about how the movie came out when we were young and living in Iowa and too cash-strapped to see a movie that we weren’t seriously interested in. We were justifying why we’ve never seen the movie–too poor when it first came out and then we just never got around to it, our story went. 

“The Mandela Effect” does indeed refer to a false memory, but it involves several people having a false memory of the same thing–not just two people. I only know that there is a name for this phenomenon because the hosts of our beloved podcast, “Too Beautiful Too Live,” have talked about it on several episodes. The name comes from the apparently common and shared false memory that Nelson Mandela died in the mid-eighties. 

Chad and I weren’t just mistaken about Avatar, we were convinced we were right and reacted with disbelief when our friend Polly Googled the movie release date and informed us it was 2009 (when we certainly could have easily afforded to go see it). “That can’t be!” we exclaimed. “That must have been a re-release of a director’s cut or something.”

We eventually simmered down and accepted the truth. It was a humbling and disconcerting experience for me. While the release date of Avatar doesn’t have great implications for my life, I can’t help but wonder what other facts and stories I’m convinced about that haven’t happened, or happened in substantially different ways than I remember. 

One trippy theory about The Mandela Effect is that it’s caused by the existence of parallel universes–that the mass misremembered events DID actually happen–just in an alternate reality. Maybe, but that still doesn’t explain why some people remember the other reality. Well, maybe the theory does get into that, but I didn’t want to do that much Googling. And while I do enjoy pondering alternate realities, one where “Avatar” came out in the mid-90’s probably isn’t that different than this one, at least not for Chad and I. 

I did do enough Googling to learn about the really cool word “confabulation,” which means “false memories a person spontaneously generates, often to compensate for holes in a person’s memory” (https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/mandela-effect). We don’t confabulate intentionally or maliciously, it just happens. So while I probably shouldn’t say Chad and I experienced The Mandela Effect, I think I can accurately say Chad and I were confabulating about the movie Avatar. 

Or, maybe I can designate my own effect! From now on, when Chamy misremembers something together (which is pretty special in its own way), it will be known as “The Avatar Effect.” (Please note–this should NOT be confused with “An ‘Avatar’ Mandela Effect,” which is apparently a thing where people misremember a scene from the movie about the characters having “hair sex” https://wegotthiscovered.com/movies/a-curious-avatar-mandela-effect-questions-the-existence-of-navi-hair-sex/. Don’t ask me to explain, I still haven’t seen the movie). 

I don’t buy groceries in-person very often, and when I do, I rarely use a grocery list. 

Which may explain why I constantly feel like I don’t have the groceries I need. So today, I tried to be efficient and organized and headed off to Cub with an actual grocery list. 

A grocery list that bewildered and then bemused me when I checked it at Cub and that one of the items on it was “lunch meeting”. 

Hmmm, I don’t think one can buy a meeting at Cub, or even a Whole Foods. Yes, I could have meant “buy supplies FOR a lunch meeting,” but thankfully, since I work at home, I don’t have to deal with those, at least not in the sense where I have to buy supplies for a lunch meeting. I guess I’m just so used to thinking/writing “meeting” that when I started to write “meat” I automatically went to “meETING.” That bout of unconscious writing and word association may not technically be a Freudian Slip, but I like how this gave me a clothing based through line for the rest of the post. 

This is just a little post about some thoughts that were top of mind for me today.

The other two pieces of content I have today don’t have anything to do with groceries, but with clothing. Today I am feeling accomplished because I got rid of several old pairs of jeans that I haven’t worn much (if at all) since the start of the pandemic. Whether it’s because of changes in my body, or my clothing preference (these jeans were pretty low-riding) or my lifestyle (these blinged out jeans weren’t comfortable to wear about the house) these jeans just weren’t working for me anymore. It’s been hard to come to acceptance that it was time to let these jeans go, but now that I have it feels very freeing. (Hmmm, I said the rest of this post didn’t have anything to do with groceries, but the fact that my old jeans didn’t fit quite the way I wanted them to probably is related to groceries and food consumption–and booze). 

So as I got rid of my old jeans today, I savored the luxury of a new sweatshirt. I can think of few things in life that are as soft and comforting as wearing a sweatshirt that hasn’t been washed yet. It’s like a hug with no social awkwardness. For the last week or so I’ve been basking in the sumptuousness of a new sweatshirt emblazoned with My Little Pony decoration. I will freely admit I am not a My Little Pony fan (I got the sweatshirt through Loot Crate, a geek themed subscription) but I love the colors. 

Sadly, a never-washed sweatshirt can’t stay that way forever, (at least not in a way that is compatible with my olfactory sensory standards) so today was a bittersweet day of being grateful (November is gratitude month after all) for and saying goodbye to my never-washed sweatshirt. Maybe that’s the theme of this post: Letting go of old jeans that don’t fit right anymore, and never washed sweatshirts that are starting to get stinky, and my aspirations of being an effective grocery list user. 

Location. Location. Location.

It’s not only important for real estate, but also sandwiches. 

Eating hummus sandwiches has become one of life’s greatest small pleasures for me. (Yes, “greatest small” makes complete sense here). The sandwiches are nothing sexy–Village Hearth Light Wheat or 12 Grain bread (hardly fine quality bread but it works), hummus (usually Tribe brand garlic), and some veggies–usually sliced mushrooms, peppers, some lettuce and sprouts. But the joy comes not just in the hummus sandwich, but in eating it at a local state park, ideally on a lunch break during a 6ish mile walk/hike. 

Visiting parks became a thing for me during Covid when I was looking for safe activities, and it’s been an interest I’ve sustained. Even as the Covid situation has felt more manageable, I really got into Minnesota state parks during the late summer months and fall of this year. In the last two months, I’ve made eight day trips to eight different State Parks: Lake Maria, Minnesota Valley, Afton, Interstate, Wild River, Frontenac, Nerstrand, and William O’Brien. My favorite? They all have their charms and quirks, but I think I’m most enamored with Wild River. 

I eat two sandwiches per excursion, so that’s a lot of hummus sandwiches. (Also a lot of vacation days, but as a long term county employee who rarely takes “big” vacation I have a healthy balance of vacation hours to spend). 

And of course, a lot of photos from my attempts to be an arty smart phone nature photographer, and selfies. But I don’t have any photos of my hummus sandwiches, which feels like a failing. 

It’s also a fair amount of miles–most days I walk/hike at least 6 miles. (I’m not sure what makes something a “hike” but I think it involves more climbing and more effort than I expend). I am NOT running during these park visits, despite what some of my Facebook friends assume. Without going into too many details, my explanation is that trail running is a very different type of running than what I do. Perhaps even more importantly, going to a park to run would involve a different set of logistics that would not be conducive to the consumption of sandwiches. Maybe someday I will venture into trail running and adjust my schedule to allow for running plus sandwich intake, but I’m not there yet. 

So as winter approaches, I’m a little sad that yesterday, with its glorious (if climatologically frightening) unseasonably warm weather, may have heralded the last hummus sandwich of this hiking season. 

Yes, my daily life affords me many other opportunities to eat hummus sandwiches–I have the means, I have the technology–but the sandwich without the park experience isn’t what I’m looking for. It’s the location, the context, the tradition, the ritual that makes a hummus sandwich in a state park a treat for me. 

Why do I love State Parks so much? Obviously, I love being in nature, and being outdoors. While I obviously don’t love bugs (blessedly gone the last few weeks) and using port-a-potties (although I’m not too squeamish) those inconveniences are a price I’m willing to pay. I love walking and delving into audiobooks (yes, I listen to some nature but primarily this is audiobook time for me). But mostly, I love the feeling like I’ve stepped outside of my regular life, if just for a little bit, and that I’m having some “Amy Time” and doing an “Amy Thing.” 

But now, I think this is the end of my state park season. 

Who knows? It’s possible that I may get heartier and start doing some cold weather hiking. Or maybe by next spring I’ll be over my fascination with state parks. So far, I’ve enjoyed the sense of exploration–What will this park, these trails, be like?–and maybe by next year I won’t care about visiting parks anymore. Maybe I’ll simply feel fulfilled: “Been there, done that.” Or maybe I’ll spend most of 2023 in a yurt (since I don’t really know what a yurt is, that seems unlikely, but it’s a fun word to say in my head).

So for now I’m going to wallow in some wistfulness grounded in gratitude for state parks, and smartphone photography, and hummus.

Previously on my blog, I tried to delve into poetic, even spiritual, aspects of running the 2022 Twin Cities Marathon. 

Now that I’ve got that out of the way…this will be a more prosaic “I did this and saw this and felt this and learned this” post (not surprisingly, this post will be longer). 

I did this:

• Successfully completed my fourth marathon!
• Ran my SLOWEST marathon (here are all my times):
  • Twin Cities Marathon 2022–4:19:05
  • Twin Cities Marathon 2018–4:04:55
  • Grandma’s Marathon 2018–4:03:48
  • Twin Cities Marathon 2017–4:16:34
• Ran my first mile WAY too fast!! This is the classic marathon runner’s mistake, so I guess I needed to make it at least once in my running life? Good news: I ran an 8:15 mile; Bad news: I ran MUCH slower miles at the end of the marathon.

I learned this:

• According to Facebook posts, several runners had difficult marathons because of the heat.
• Not doing any strength training probably made me slower–not sure if that’s enough motivation to do some if there’s a next time.
• Doing fewer long runs and shorter long runs than what I did with my previous training plan was just fine–if it did make me slower, it was worth it.
• I should give more thought to my nutrition and hydration–both during training and the race itself. Nothing disastrous happened, but I may have been slowed down by my fuel deficit. 
• Running a long distance with braids works (I took a bit of a risk by not trying this out in advance–my run hairdo is usually a ponytail or bun). I think it would be really awesome if I learn how to do french braids for any other longish race I might do. 

I felt this:

• Pleased and relieved that Chad dropped me off close to the start line and that I found the gear drop off spot easily, and that the bathroom lines weren’t too long and that it was easy for me to discard my warm-up blanket.
• Soo so tired from mile 17 on. Not in pain, but definitely spent. Not sure if this feeling was worse than in previous marathons. Also felt low-level nausea (but no puking) which is NOT unprecedented. 
• Reassured that others had a difficult run because of the heat–not that I take joy in the misfortunes of others, or that I’m even sure to what extent the heat affected me
• Thankful for all the supportive and entertaining spectators, especially those that yelled “Go, Amy” or some other personalized message for me (my name was on my Bib)…AND a little embarrassed and self-conscious for the cheers directed at me.
• Entertained by the spectator signs that gave updates on the Vikings game, even though I have absolutely NO interest in the Vikings.
• Slightly deflated and disappointed that this was my slowest marathon, although I consciously decided to do a less time-consuming training plan and knew this was likely. (Now I mostly feel like, “Whatever, I did a marathon, whoo-hoo!”)
• Disappointed and discombobulated that I NEVER heard any spectators blasting “Sweet Caroline”! Is it even a long race without that?
• Bemused and flattered that a significant number of people on Facebook remarked how “good” I looked in my post-race photos after having just ran a marathon. And these comments were on just my selfies! I tried even harder to intentionally look mighty and happy and proud at the finish line and whenever I noticed an official race photographer. I’m not sure if this is a reflection on my marathon prowess or my dedication to trying to get good photos for social media.

I didn’t, and still don’t, feel like “ I MUST do that again” or “I will NEVER do THAT again” which means it’s likely that I will run a marathon again. Maybe there is a “Feisty Fifth” in my future. Oh wait, that sounds potentially ill-advised.