Two years ago today I ran my first marathon, the Twin Cities Marathon.

I probably wouldn’t have realized that today is my inaugural marathon anniversary without the miracle of Facebook to alert me.

I don’t remember that much about the actual marathon, although I’m sure if I dedicated some time for reflection and blog reading more would come back to me. Mostly I remember the hours…and hours…and hours of training (and all the unflattering selfies of me all sweaty and redfaced).

But I do have lots of thoughts and feels to commemorate this anniversary:

• Disbelief: Sometimes I’m still shocked that I’ve run marathons (3 to be exact).
• Pride: Hell yeah, I’m badass.
• Regret: I’m NOT running the TC Marathon this year.
• Relief: I’m NOT running the TC Marathon this year.
• Inspiration/Strength/Confidence: I was able to do this! No matter what, I learned I can do far more than I think is possible.
• Self doubt/Weakness/Inferiority/Fear of Failure: I did something amazing then, but could I do it now?
• Gratitude: Despite this cocktail of contradictory feelings, gratitude overshadows them all. I’m so thankful that my life circumstances and health and the support of Chad and friends made it possible for me to do this. I’m also so thankful for the support and inspiration of my community of runners, most notably my First-Time TC Marathoners Class of 2017 Facebook group.

Of course the burning question on everyone’s minds is what does the future hold for Amy’s running career? As I’ve already said (admitted) I am NOT running the TC Marathon, or any marathon, this year. I am running the TC 10 Mile on Marathon Day and the 5K and 10K the day before (loving known as the “Loony Challenge.” But don’t be too impressed, last year I did the “Ultra Loony Challenge”–5K, 10K and Marathon in one weekend). These will be the first races I’ve run all year. Then Chad and I will be heading to Louisville in two weeks to run the Urban Bourbon Half Marathon (we ran this three years ago and all the bourbon we will want to drink is more daunting than the race).

Top questions about Amy’s running future:

• Why no marathon this year? Mostly because training takes SO MUCH TIME. I’m actually relieved I decided to “take this year off” as my job has turned out to be much more demanding.
• Will you run another marathon? Seriously considering it. I like the idea of running a marathon the year I turn 50 (next year) and also the idea of running a total of 5 marathons (at least).
• Will you keep running? Are you still a runner? HELL YES! I started running almost 20 years before I ran a marathon, I just wasn’t running with the same intensity. I plan to keep running at some level and frequency as long as I possibly can.
• Have you peaked as a runner? Quite possibly, at least as far as speed is concerned. Frankly, my training this year has sucked. I don’t know if it’s age, or weird injuries, or lack of motivation, or too many chips or too much alcohol, but I have slowed down. I’m nervous about how this weekend’s races are going to go, and how bummed I’m going to be when I don’t live up to past glories. But perhaps the biggest challenge now is to have the mental and emotional perserverance to keep going. See above: I WILL STILL BE A RUNNER.

In the not-too-distant past I came across a sticker at a race expo that read “There will come a day when I cannot do this. Today is not that day.” I immediately teared up. I may not do it as well as I used to (and this goes not only for running but perhaps also drumming, blogging, drinking, etc.) but I WILL keep doing it–and enjoying it and appreciaiting it–for as long as I can.

*The traditional gift for the second anniversary is cotton, and “Cotton to” is an idiom that means you understand something. I cotton to running, drumming, drinking red wine and bourbon, etc….Totally made up the “polyester” bit

“Wow, he’s an adolescent.”

Those were some of the first words out of Coach Carla’s mouth when we met her for our initial dog owner conference after StanLee’s first day of Boot Camp.

Yes, we’ve enrolled (enlisted?) StanLee B. in “boot camp” at our local Canine Coach. No, he’s not going to be shipped out to fight a war of canine cuteness, but he is going to go to training every week day for a month (we need to drop him off  in the morning by 9 and pick him up by 6).

Yes, Coach Carla (the trainer dedicated to working with StanLee) assured us that he is adorable and charming and that all the staff love him, but “training him is going to be a challenge I’m looking forward to.”

Hearing that StanLee is “challenging” actually made us feel better about our (expensive) choice to send him to Boot Camp. No, we’re not just lazy dog owners who suck at training (well, I am) but StanLee has some significant impulse control issues. He’s not aggressive (exactly), but he wants things, or more specifically, to play with “things” (other dogs, cats, emus on tv) NOW and when he can’t, he gets really frustrated and loses his puppy mind.

The basic training we (mostly Chad) did with StanLee B helped, and he’s definitely calmed down as he’s gotten older, but he’s still a lot to handle. He’s an adorable little ball of energy who loves too much, and we just can’t exercise or train that away by ourselves (as some well meaning but judgmental folks have suggested).

StanLee propensity to love too much is especially problematic for us because our cats are terrified of him and still sequestered in the basement. (The one time he actually did come in contact with one of our cats–Pepper–she scratched/bit his ear and he cried like, well, a little puppy, but neither one of them seems to remember that).

We’re trying not to have too high of expectations for Boot Camp. We would LOVE to have StanLee learn not to terrorize the cats, but we’ll also be really happy if by the time of Boot Camp graduation we can take StanLee out around other dogs (yes, primarily so we can take him out drinking with us).

If we had known about Boot Camp when we had Oscar, we may have signed him up for it, as he also was never that well behaved in public. (Olive, with her fear aggression, was probably never going to be a terribly social dog. Ironically, we think she really DID want to kill the cats, but she was calm about it, so they were too oblivious to recognize it and we were always afraid the cats would commit suicide-by-dog).

And yes, we know Coach Carla and the Canine Coach crew can’t create miracles by themselves. We have to do our homework, too, and work on training StanLee at home. Boot Camp also includes twice weekly meetings for us (or at least one of us) with Coach Carla and at-home visits after the conclusion of Boot Camp.

The logistics of Boot Camp are both a burden and freeing. Even though it only takes 4 minutes to actually get to Canine Coach from our house, sometimes making sure we are there by 9 and picking him up by 6 adds stress to the day that we just don’t need. It can be particularly stressful when StanLee thinks that putting on this harness is a game of chase, although “yay” to him for demonstrating why he needs Boot Camp and affirming our choice.  And no, I haven’t dropped him off yet but I’m totally prepared to do it in my pajamas or workout clothes if I need to.

But those sweet hours while he is at Boot Camp–yes, I miss him, but I also love not feeling responsible for him and being easily able to do simple things like take out the recycling, not to mention spending time with the cats. (And if you’re thinking I’m totally overreacting to the stress of having a dog, thankfully I was self-aware enough not to have children). Boot Camp time isn’t as awesome as Puppy Daycare time, as we don’t have to pick him up from daycare until 7:00 and we can usually go to Happy Hour before, AND there is a puppy cam at daycare…but hopefully he’ll be able to go back to Puppy Daycare as a more polite canine citizen.

Whatever the outcome of Boot Camp is (and I definitely intend to blog about it), I’m pretty sure StanLee is loving it. Yes, he’s mostly exhausted by the time he comes home, because thinking and learning and paying attention and following rules is HARD (I know I feel the same way). But I’m positive he loves all the attention from Coach Carla and the rest of the staff (again, he’s mostly just like me, #WillWorkForAttention).

*”Blog Dog”–this is my blog, and StanLee is my dog, and it rhymes! Inspired by Luke Burbank, host of the podcast “Too Beautiful Too Live” and his “Pod Dog” Rudy.

Chad and I went to the Minnesota State Fair today. Voluntarily.

Take a moment to let that sink in

Obviously, going to the Fair is nothing that remarkable for thousands and thousands of Minnesotans (native or transplants like us) who go to the Fair every year. But precisely because of those thousands and thousands of Fairgoers, Chad is not a fan of the Fair. While I go most years (at least for a few hours), Chad has only been there once several years ago (1998? 2002?) for a Bonnie Raitt show at the Grandstand (we definitely did not stray too far from the Grandstand into the rest of the Fair).

So it took something special to bring Chad back to the Fair: a live taping of an episode of a podcast he adores, “Too Beautiful Too Live” (TBTL). I won’t spend too much time now describing TBTL or its wonder, but just say you should definitely check it out. (The show’s website describes it as “…a daily podcast from Luke Burbank and Andrew Walsh. It’s about life, current events, pop culture, puttering, laser baldness helmets, and tonight pants.”)

Not only did Chad go to the Fair to see the TBTL taping (which I totally take credit for), I even “made” him go and speak to the hosts and we had our picture taken with them! (I was so happily surprised by this that I didn’t even take any other photos for the rest of my time at the Fair).

Even though I’m not as big of TBTL fan as Chad (I haven’t listened to it as much as I don’t really bother to figure out podcast listening on my own) I am a bit of a Luke Burbank fan from listening to his public radio show “Livewire” and hearing him as a guest on public radio’s “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me.” (Okay, I’m done talking about public radio for the rest of this blog, and yes, I’m constantly suprised I am such a public radio nerd).

Meeting the TBTL hosts Luke and Andrew was delightful. They were funny and sweet and charming, and seeing the show live was a hoot. And I really enjoyed their guest Brandi Brown, a local comedian who is also really into the Fair and a seed artist…who knew? We also got to see Stu ‘The StuBot’ Neuman, a show regular and copywriter for Surly famous for writing Welcome to Minnesota. (This was all new to me until today).

Actually I learned (or at least experienced) a lot today at the Fair. It was a Day of Discovery, which featured these highlights:

• The deep fried pickles we had were not only full of saltly yummineess, but they weren’t over greasy and the pickles were crisp, even though fried!
• I correctly remembered where the Island Noodles booth was located in the International Bazaar, and the Island Noodles were indeed vegetarian (vegan, actually, in case anyone is looking for that). And apparently I was on a food texture appreciation kick today, and was pleasantly surprised that the noodles weren’t overcooked. They also weren’t saturated with sauce and even featured some actual vegetables!
• It is possible to get chilly at the Fair. It wasn’t a disaster, but deciding to wear shorts (actually, a skort–hey, I’m almost 50) wasn’t the best decision on a day when the temperature was in the low 70’s. (Totally appreciated the beautiful, if windy, day though).
• Chad can be way more chillaxed at the Fair than me. I had to keep fighting (not always that successfully) my desire to HAVE A PLAN and GET SOMEWHERE.
• I did not have the energy or wherewithal to make it to the Library booth on Read and Ride Day (Library Day), but I appreciated the $2 Fair ticket discount for having a library card and I felt clever wearing my date due stamp shirt (#represent).
• I was interested to see the seed art, but not nearly enough to wait in line. I was mostly content to see if from a distance behind the barrier, and felt accomplished that we at least glimpsed Brandi Brown’s Gameboy piece.
• In addition to seed art, the horticulture hall has really cool floral arrangements.
• I had beer, and did not burst into flames of calories (yet). I’m glad I tried to have special Fair beer: a Surly Mango Medusa (Surly in honor of StuBot) and a Schell’s Starkeller sour.
• The number of Hall and Oates shirts we encountered was suprising. Yes, I know they are playing at the Grandstand tonight, but how/why did that many fans have shirts in advance? Do that many people see Hall and Oates concerts multiple times so that they already have concert shirts, or are these just standard fans shirts available via the interwebs? And yes, frankly, I’m constantly surprised that Hall and Oates are so popular (not trying to hate I honestly just don’t get it) and I’m really surprised that they appear to have so many young (under 30) fans.
• Dino’s Gyros has a cool little beer garden space with live bands (thanks for the tip Mike Frasier!)

Yes, it was a day ful of wonder, but our Fair experience isn’t over yet…we’re going BACK on SATURDAY for the Brandi Carlisle concert at the Grandstand (not Dino’s). If Chamy attendance at the Fair twice in one year doesn’t cause a black hole to swallow the universe, there just might be more blogging (I’m sure there will be more fried food and drinking).

Self-deprecation can get tiresome quickly so I try not to indulge in it too much, but I really am not “what one would call a beautifully coordinated creature.”

That’s a quote, more or less, is from Chad’s character Matt in the beloved play “Talley’s Folly.” (More self-deprecation…I am NOT good at exact quotes). But you get the idea. I am, and always have been, a klutz.

It’s ironic that I’m a klutz, because I was born on a Tuesday, and Tuesday’s child, according to the classic poem, is “full of grace.” Maybe the poem’s author meant grace as a spiritual or emotional quality. If so, I still have lots of room in my grace tank.

Anyhoo, for whatever reason, I am not very physically coordinated or graceful. Maybe it’s just a self-fulfilling prophecy…somewhere way back when, I learned that I was a klutz, even though I must have some coordination, as I am rather kick-ass amateur drummer.

But one thing I love about running is that it doesn’t take any great physical skill or coordination…until it does, or at least more than I have, and I trip and fall for no apparent reason, as I did yesterday morning.

The lack of a known cause for my fall yesterday has me a little weirded out. No, I don’t think I have a new medical condition or anything, but with all the other times I’ve had a running fall or trip (approximately only 5 in the last couple of years) I remember tripping on something on the sidewalk (or in one case this summer doing an awkward manuever trying to avoid a car).

If I’m honest, I feel a little cursed when it comes to running this year. No, I don’t really THINK that I’m cursed or that I’ve offended some running deities that I don’t rationally think exist, but I FEEL cursed. Between pulled butt muscles and rained out races and slower than average training runs and more than an usual amount of falling, I’m a little scared to go running again and keep training for the Twin Cities 10 Mile.

But worse than being scared of running again is wondering just how long will I need to wait before I can–or should–go running again. While I am very fortunate that I’m not significantly injured in any way (although I do have a rather impressive bruise on my chin that looks even more colorful today than yesterday when I posted an unflattering selfie to show it off) I am sore and stiff. My neck and jaw are particularly problematic, making it challenging to sleep, drive, and chew salad (all the necessities of life).

So I did not run today and took a SECOND rest day this week. Argh. I can already feel the downward spiral starting as I write this while eating ice cream and drinking bourbon. Yes, yes, yes, I know that “rest” and “recovery” are supposedly healthy, but how long can this madness continue?

I know my recent running mishaps pale in comparison with the injuries and hardships that many runners face, but that only makes me more nervous. What else is lurking around the corner? How would I deal with a real setback?

Okay, I’m indulging in something I AM good at: worry and imagining worst case scenarios.

One of  my most influential college professors told us that the experience of enlightenment is like falling…your brain just stops and you are totally in the moment. That may be true sometimes but she did not know the inner workings of my brain. Yesterday morning my poor brain kept working and had plenty of time to think “S#@t! I’m falling and I can’t stop it and I’m going to hit the sidewalk and that’s going to hurt.”

It’s weird when a metaphor (or analogy or symbol or whatever literary device) becomes literal. I have new appreciation for the meaning of needing to get up and keep moving when I actually had to get up and keep moving.

(Another Lesson of the Fall…although the bruise on my chin looks a little dramatic, it doesn’t hurt. What really hurts and causes me problems–my neck and jaw–are invisible injuries. Now THAT’S a metaphor).

Luckily, I was only a block from home when I fell. This was advantageous, obviously, because I only had a little ways to go before I was home, and I had almost completed my planned run (yes, I made sure to stop my Garmin watch as soon as I could manage it–I was only a minute short of my goal). The downside is that I can’t help thinking if I just could have kept my act together for just one more block I could have made it safely home.

But who knows, maybe the space/time continuum needed me to fall on that date and time to keep reality together so I just would have come home and tripped over StanLee. (If I do end up giving up on running, maybe I can expand my writing hobby from blogging to include really mundane science fiction stories).

Last week Chad and I saw “The Muppet Movie” on the big screen in an actual movie theater. (Kind of a dumpy movie theater, but not quite as dilapidated as the theater where the muppets have their film screening in “The Muppet Movie”). It was a special screening in honor of the movie’s 40th Anniversary.

Obviously it is rather mind-blowing to me to realize “The Muppet Movie” premiered 40 years ago. As Linda Holmes says in her amazing and profound essay, Rainbows, Frogs, Dogs And ‘The Muppet Movie’ Soundtrack at 40,

“And I could tell you that this makes me feel old, but it doesn’t. It oddly makes me feel just right.”

Actually, the 40th anniversary of the Muppet Movie DOES make me feel old, but also just right. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I feel like being old IS all right, as long as I can still bask in the wonder and magic and optimism and goofiness of “The Muppet Movie.”

My muppety appreciation may be even richer and sweeter because of all the 40 years I’ve lived since my first viewing of “The Muppet Movie.” Today I still love the inspiring muppet message of following your dreams, but now I realize that I often have to redefine my dreams and keep having new ones.

Now when I sing along at the end of the “The Muppet Movie” to one of all-time favorite lyrics, “Life’s like a movie, write your own ending, keep believing, keep pretending,” it’s not only a straightforward “take control of your life and make things happen” message. Now I also think about how I want to tell my life story, what the narratives are that I want to create to make meaning out of my life, even when, or especially when, I can’t control what happens.

I think about all the layers of the word “pretending,” encompassing everything from imagination to lying, bravery to denial. In a simple sense, it’s what all actors do: pretend to be someone else. It’s also what all people do, at least in the sense of pretending to be other aspects of ourselves. So instead of pretending to be something or someone we don’t want to be, can we choose which “me” to be and when? Can we keep trying to be our best, or at least “best at this moment” selves, even when it’s hard and we feel like we’re just pretending?

I love how Kermit and the muppets give us great examples of selves we could pretend to be. They are all admirable and flawed and funny and interesting and bold in their own ways. With infinite time I probably could blog about the symbolic meanings of each major muppet, but for now I’ll stick with Kermit. 

Today Kermit is still my hero and my crush (more about that other key aspects of my Muppet fandom in This Looks Familiar), but I am surprised to discover how Amy “The (at least temporarily) Man” admires Kermit as a boss and leader. Kermit inspires me because he wants to live up to his responsibilities to his fellow muppets, but still keeps it real. Kermit gets snarky and scared and annoyed, but leads anyway. No wonder Captain Mercer of “The Orville” (a brilliant show) has a Kermit doll on his desk, explaining, “…He’s just a leader I admire. Always keeps his cool in a crisis [there’s some irony there], inspires greatness in his people…”

And today, as a professional amateur actor, I now get and appreciate all the puns that lace “The Muppet Movie” more than I ever did as a kid. After 10 years of performing with the pun-loving Duck Soup theater company, I almost feel like an honorary muppet.

Yes, seeing the special anniversary screening of “The Muppet Movie” with Chad was quite the momentous and moving occasion, and I got to enjoy it with a cheapass little individual bottle of theater merlot (I didn’t get to enjoy that when I was 9). If only they had sold Muppet Sparkling Muscatel!

Ten years later, it ended where it all began: with a floral loveseat.

That’s a rather innaccurate opening line, but I like how it sounds, so I’m going to go with it. Hopefully, explaining its inaccuracies will help me convey some actual content.

The “it” in question is my “career” as an actress in community theater. The loveseat was a set piece for the first community theater show I was in, Duck Soup’s “Moon Over Miami.” I played Darla, the “young” newlywed (rather a stretch at 39). As Darla, I spent quite a bit of time, sometimes seemingly an eternity, hiding behind the loveseat with my on-stage love, Sam, (played by Chad, of course).

Ten years later, that very same loveseat was again a set piece for  “Broken Hill,” the last producation I was just in. This time, as the character Claire, a young and middle-aged love interest, I got to actually sit on the couch. Turns out, this was much more comfortable than kneeling behind it.

Behind the couch, May 2009

On the couch, June 2019

Time to tell the rest of the story: “Moon Over Miami” was not my first post-high school theater endeavor. My theater-as-an-adult origin story actually begins with our church’s production of “Our Town” in 2017. I even had a female lead role as Emily (yes, also rather absurd as I was a 37-year-old playing a teenager).

I don’t in any way want to be dimissive of our church’s “Our Town.” It was a deeply-meaningful and influential experience, that really did change my life. And it was a good show–we made people cry and feel many feels. But I totally dropped the ball on observing the 10 year anniversay of “Our Town,” so I’m making a rather arbitrary distinction between “church” and “community” theater. Plus, I didn’t get really active with theater until I did “Moon Over Miami” with Duck Soup.

So I am NOT going to miss this personal anniversary and chance for self-reflection (and yes, self-congratulation), at least by blog. Not going to miss my chance to stop and take a moment and say, “Holy crap. I’ve been doing this since 2009. That’s 10 years and 46 (approximately) shows.” I even have my resume to prove it.

How can I not revel and wonder? I had no idea ten years ago where my theater journey would take me…all the hours, all the rehearsing, all the memorizing, all the obsessing, all the self-doubt…and all the love. The love for the wonderful, amazing, talented people I’ve worked with who’ve become my friends, and the audiences who have given up their time to be part of something we create together. Everyone on either side of the stage who has been willing to be vulnerable and bold and audacious.

And I have learned more than I ever could have imagined…about acting (I still have tons to learn, but have gotten much better in spite of getting in my own way) and theater and myself. And just fun, random things..like what a “bad lie” means in golf and what Bergdorf’s is.

Now that I’ve more fully explained the “it” and the “beginning” and “the loveseat,” is it really the end of my community theater career? The dramatic side of me (which obviously, is often in charge) sometimes thinks, hopes, and fears so. Maybe I should just quit while I’m ahead. It’s likely to be all downhill from here. After all, what are the chances that I’m ever going to get cast in another role as rich and rewarding as Claire? And wouldn’t it be nice to have more of this “free” time thing? I could go out more, and actually attempt to read a book or maybe even clean the house. Plus, it’s so nice to not be constantly trying to cram lines into my head and to not feel guilty when I just listen to the radio.

The most powerful voice telling me that “it’s a wrap” wonders how I will ever live up to my performance of Claire. Shouldn’t I just quit while I’m ahead? And it seems like there should really be a word for this fear of not living up to past accomplishments. It’s more than just the standard Fear of Failure, but yet it must be pretty common. FOAP (Fear Of Already Peaking) or FONLU (Fear Of Not Living Up)?

Despite the soul-searching and doubts, I’m not ready to end my involvement with community theater. But I do think it’s worthwhile to think of this as the end of a chapter, and a good time to reflect on what I’ve learned and celebrate what I’ve accomplished.

Maybe I’ll be more selective about what roles I take on, and more careful with how I allocate my time. Maybe. Hopefully I’ll continue to appreciate the opportunities that come my way and continue to try and learn from whatever experiences I’m having.

Most of all, I’ll appreciate (and drink with) all the wonderful friends I’ve made…and try to avoid roles that require me to hide behind furniture.

Today was Global Running Day, so I must blog about running.

I’ve blogged a lot about running and the various races I’ve run, but lately I’ve been thinking the most about the races I haven’t run.

Specifically, the last two races I’ve registered for, the Get in Gear Half Marathon and the Women Run the Cities 10 Mile. It’s with a mixture of shame, defiance, and rebelliousness that I announce that I bailed on BOTH of these races because of cold and rainy weather.

Com on, the Bib was even Purple!

The shirt PROVES I’m a runner, right?

I don’t think there is a quick or simple way to tell the tales of how I agonized over the decision not to run these races. Actually, I decided relatively far in advance not to run the Get in Gear because the forecast was for a crappy morning days before the race.

The decision only got painful when the forecast changed late in the game and it just felt too hard to change course: We hadn’t picked up our race numbers, we hadn’t gotten our supplies together, etc., etc. (preparing for a race does take surprising amount of advance effort) and yes, we had consumed an unwise amount of alcohol the night before the race. So we didn’t run the Get in Gear, even though it didn’t rain, and we felt like wimps.

Oh well, I tried to tell myself, the registration fee was cheap, my training hadn’t been going that well anyway, and I had another race coming up in three weeks: the Women Run the Cities.

So when the forecast for that race was also icky, I decided not to rush to judgment. I resolved that I would be prepared to run until the last moment.

But the last moment approached and the forecast got worse and worse…there was even a hypothermia alert. And I almost was swayed by a version of the sunk costs philosophy: I had already missed one race, and this race was much more expensive.

Finally, I thought about how I had signed up for the Women Run the Cities because it was supposed to be empowering and fun. Now you might be saying, “Isn’t the point of running any race to have fun?” and I answer that there are many meanings of “fun.” Races are usually much more about achieving a personal challenge…and the post-race bragging rights and celebrations.

However, the Women Run the Cities was supposed to fun in the more traditional sense, and I didn’t think I would enjoy any post-race celebrations (drinking) if I had to stand outside in the rain.

This epiphany dawned: It would actually be more empowering NOT to run the race and make myself suffer. I knew I could run 10 miles (okay, I didn’t actually know how fast under race conditions) but the biggest challenge for me was to let go of a plan (and a registration fee).

“Letting go” is a recurrent theme of the play I’m currently in, “Broken Hill” (yes, please, for the love of whatever you consider holy, please come see it next weekend). I am such a “J” (from the Myers Briggs personality test) that “letting go” is extremely hard. As family lore goes, one of our mom’s guiding principles is that YOU DO NOT QUIT. You may do a shitty job, but you do not quit. Plans are made, plans are followed, whether they are for dinner or relationships or careers.

This mindset has served me very well in most instances, but there are also times, as my “Broken Hill” character Claire chants, “It’s okay to let go.” Not only okay, but a wise gift you can give yourself and others.

Even though I did not run the Women Run the Cities 10 mile race, I did get the shirt, and I’ve already been proudly wearing it. Normally I would cringe to wear a shirt for a race I didn’t run, but 1) this is a super awesome shirt and 2) it reminds me of all these other life lessons I’ve learned.

This is all well and good, but I am still a bit adrift with this limbo I’m in of NOT having run a race in several months, and not being officially in training for anything (already having decided to take a break from marathons this year). I do not want to get burned by signing up for another race that gets squelched because of weather, but I am acting as if I am in training for the 4th of July Red, White and Boom Half Marathon.

Am I still a runner if I’m not “in training”? I ran for many years and many miles without the goal of completing a race…what was the appeal of that? This was even before selfies and Facebook and cool/funny/ironic/retro t-shirts that declare “Runner Runner Runner.” Can I go back to that?

Hmmm, it might be a take on the old “Serenity Prayer”:

Grant me the wisdom to be a tough, tenacious badass when I need to be and a hedonistic chillaxer when that’s more awesome, and the wisdom to know the difference (or at least what will result in better social media optix).

How did Chad and I celebrate our 24th wedding anniversary? Unfortunately, we belatedly discovered that is the musical intstrument anniversary (although we’ve probably been celebrating that for years). But we did present a church service exploring love as a choice.

“People come to me with questions a lot at work because I’m kind of known as the expert on marriage at the office.”

I think I did a double-take when Chad said those words to me almost 20 years ago. At the time we had been married about 5 years, and while I thought we had a pretty good marriage, I couldn’t really imagine that many people coming to a rather introverted and traditionally masculine thirty year old guy for touchy-feely relationship advice.

As Chad continued talking about his work as a lawyer, I quickly realized he meant he was considered an expert on the legal aspects of marriage, and divorce. This made much more sense to me.

Decades later, on the eve of our 24th anniversary, I told that story at the Nora Unitarian Universalist Church as the opening of the Sunday service Chad and I presented. We were there not as self proclaimed marriage–or divorce–experts, but simply as fellow Unitarian Universalists who have done a lot of reading, listening, watching, performing, thinking, speaking and writing about love. So we shared some of those pieces of art, literature, and pop culture, with our fellow Unitarian Universalists.

We also shared some of the unique perspective Chad has gained through his work as a family law attorney and his observations of relationships as they evolve and end. Chad has also had the joy of officiating at several marriages (thanks to my groundbreaking skills with the internet and a credit card that I wielded to sign him up as an officiant with the Church of Universal Light) so our service included a piece he wrote for our friends’ Megan and Allan as their marriage was just beginning. 

We think romantic love is an interesting topic to explore, but we didn’t want to limit our service  to love between or for other people in just the romantic sense. We also don’t want to think about just the feelings or experiences of love but what it might mean to consider love a choice. 

I have a tatto–temporary, not real–on my forearm that says “Choose love now.” I first wore a “Choose love now” tattoo back in October of 2017, when Chad and I were acting in a play called “Panache.” So I recycled material from a post about that, “Panache is Scrumptious.”

“Choose love now” was the perfect motto for the mismatched lovers we played in that romantic comedy. Both of our characters learned they needed to stop living in the past, trapped by loss and grief, to take a chance on a new romance.

But choosing love can be about much more than a romantic relationship. Many of us are experiencing, or will experience, times when we aren’t romantically in love or loved by or love adjacent to another person, but that doesn’t mean love isn’t for us. We can “Choose love now” by being willing to take a risk and live a life of passion, dedication, and openness, possibly including but more expansive than romantic love. Choose to love life, and what you are, and who you want to be. Choose to love it today in all its imperfections.

As we were trying not to just focus on the fact that it was our anniversary, we did NOT read one of our favorite reflections on long-term relationships. But since this is my blog, I can include this from “The Sparrow” by Mary Doria Russell:

“Lemme tell ya something, sweetface. I have been married at least four times, to four different men.” She watched him chew that over for a moment before continuing, “They’ve all been named George Edwards but, believe me, the man who is waiting for me down the hall is a whole lot different animal from the boy I married, back before there was dirt. Oh, there are continuities. He has always been fun and he has never been able to budget his time properly and – well, the rest is none of your business.”

“But people change,” he said quietly.

“Precisely. People change. Cultures change. Empires rise and fall. Shit. Geology changes! Every ten years or so, George and I have faced the fact that we have changed and we’ve had to decide if it makes sense to create a new marriage between these two new people.”

And Chad and I have kept on choosing that it makes sense for the new people we are constantly becoming to create a new marriage. We don’t go for the idea that “We were made for each other,” (way too much like destiny/fate for my taste) but we believe we have chosen to continuously make ourselves for each other.

There is a completely different blog post in that idea, but some of the top ways we’ve chosen to change together include running, brussell sprouts, bourbon, and Unitarian Universalism.

We ended the service with the Greek myth of Baucis and Philemon, which we learned from the play “The Metamorphoses” which we recently saw the Guthrie. Baucis and Philemon are a virtuous couple who are turned into trees

I really hope you will come and see the upcoming play that I’m in, “Broken Hill.” We have performances June 13-15 at Dreamland Arts in St. Paul.

That’s probably the most straightforward opening to a blog post I’ve ever written. No attempt at humor or cleverness, just a simple, sincere request: Please come see my show.

Of course, I have wanted people to come see every one of my shows, even the ones I haven’t been so sure that I’ve wanted to be in. Honestly, I want people to watch everything and anything I do that can nominally be considered a performance: “Hey look, AMY MADE COFFEE!”

But my narcissism aside, “Broken Hill” is special. It’s a brave, beautiful, bold piece and I get to play one of my favorite, if not THE favorite, characters I’ve ever portrayed: Claire.

I first met Claire seven years ago, in June of 2012, during the first incarnation of  Broken Hill. Don’t let the passage of those seven years fool you, Broken Hill, and Claire, (and me?) are very different now than when they first hit the stage. The complete history of “Broken Hill” (to date?) is actually too complicated for a mere blog post, but this is at least the 5th iteration of the show (continuous improvement!–IT/government humor). Or maybe it’s the blending of two distinct shows (“Broken Hill” and “Bird Icon”) where the second show was inspired by the first.

Why has Broken Hill had such a long and complicated history and how have I been fortunate enough to be a part of it? Call it fate, destiny, or God’s Will (yes, I’m being a smartass as all those ideas make me cringe) but I landed the role of Claire after auditioning for a local (now defunct) company and met the playwright, Jim. That started a friendship that led to a historic theater partnerhip, in my mind, at least. A geologist by day (now retired), Jim is an extremely talented local playwright who has been generous and brave enough to entrust his works to Applause, the theater company I now most often pour my heart into.

I enjoyed playing Claire in the first Broken Hill, but I primarily connected to that version of Claire by crimping my hair (yes, the show was set in the 80’s). But by the time Claire emerged in “Bird Icon,” I felt she was me. As I described the experience of playing Claire in an earlier, and I might I say highly moving, post, “I feel a big responsibility and pressure to get Claire right. If I can’t play a spazzy woman dealing with the death of a parent,  what role can I play?” (Keep or Toss).

Of course, Claire was never just spazzy (or grief-stricken or artsy or ethereal or demanding or sultry or depressed). She’s been, and is, all these things, and more. She’s a fully-rounded (not fully-figured) multi-dimensional character. She’s so me and so NOT me that playing her is a profound experience.

Besides my love of being Claire, (is there a word for when you are in love with your character? No, no narcissism here), “Broken Hill” feels momentous to me because:

• It’s been fascinating to see how Claire, and Broken Hill, have evolved during the years, and I’m so amazed that I’ve got to be part of the collaborative process. Usually we just get a script, have one run of the show, and that’s it.
• We’re bringing to life (yes, a cliche, but so appropriate for this) the work of a local playwright (and friend). Knowing the real, live, actual person behind our show? Wow. And yes, it’s also a little terrifying…what if he hates what we do with it?
• Chad is starring AND directing in “Broken Hill” which is an amazing emotional, intellectual, spiritual, and time commitment, and, he’s damn good.
• Chad is directing me and co-starring with me in a show with some pretty intense–in a multifaceted sense of the word–scenes. (Maybe I will find a PG way to blog about the sexy pizza scene experience but probably not). We always have our fair share of backstage drama when we work on something together, but we’re taking it to the next level.
• Getting to be part of a fictional couple with Chad is always powerful (They’re Playing Our Song), even, maybe a especially, deeply challenged couple like Claire and Peter (and did I mention the sexy pizza scene?)
• The whole cast, small and mighty as we are, is amazing. Thank you Connor, Pat, and Pat, for taking this leap of faith with us. I’m especially thankful to get to work with my dear friend Pat Bettendorf (who truly gave me my start in community theater with Duck Soup) in an entirely different way (kleenex alert!)
• “Broken Hill” is my tin anniversary show, as I’ve been doing this community theater thing for about 10 years. This feels signficiant to me, and I want to celebrate and commemorate, and what better way than to be in a challenging and moving show? Of course I still have so much to learn, but I am a much better actress than I was 10, or 5, or even 1 year ago.
• I have no idea what the acting future holds for me, (which is always true and part of the reason I die a little inside every time I hear “Oh, I’ll see the next one you’re in”) but it’s highly unlikely there are going to be many, if any, roles as fulfilling as Claire. Trust me, afterall, I have been doing this for 10 years.

“Everybody needs a go-to karaoke song
The one that makes you sing along
So take a sip of courage and just get up on that stage
Forget about your worries and just let the music play
Everybody needs a go-to karaoke song”–Sister Hazel, “Go To Karaoke Song”

In my last blog post, I wrote about how brave I was when I went ziplining on vacation in Costa Rica. Now time to turn my attention to another brave accomplishment: karaoke.

I will digress a bit to set the stage. I’ve never been on a cruise, but I hypothesize that our experience of staying at a resort was a lot like being on a cruise on land. So like a cruise, every night there was entertainment: a live band played from 8:30-9:00, then there was a dance show from 9:00-10:00 on a different stage across the courtyard, and and then the band did another set from 10:00-11:00.

Our first night we were confused and annoyed by this entertainment. Was it a dance drag show? What was up with Latino Beatles cover band? And most importantly, how f#$%!n late was the band going to play because we were old, and tired from traveling, and there was no way we could NOT hear the band from our room. And yes, it was all so cheesy and we were smuggly superior to it all.

Luckily, it didn’t take us too long to get over our old, “we’re too sophisticated for this” selves. (Knowing that the band stopped playing at 11:00 and that we could comfortably sleep/pass out at a respectable hour helped). By night #3 we were eagerly looking forward to the resort’s entertainment. As amateur musicians, we especially appreciated the talent, musicianship, and heart of the band members who gave their all to entertain distracted and frequently drunk resorters. We tried to figure out the rhythms of latin and Caribbean-flavored music over rum and guarro (NOT mixed together).

We also developed a deep an unexpected appreciation for “La Bamba” and “Hotel California.” We heard “La Bamba” every night at the resort, except for the “I promise I will eventually get to it Night of Karaoke.” Okay, one night the band didn’t actually play it but it was a part of the dance set. Our band Pigeons from Hell actually played “La Bamba” last summer at our one–and rightfully only–Quinceanera gig, and Chad sang lead, so he was able to expertly sing along in Spanish.

We also frequently heard “Hotel California, ” although not every night. No, I don’t know why this particular song was so popular at a Costa Rican resort…for some reason were the musicians mocking the conservative Christians of my childhood who proclaimed the song Satanic?

But Sunday must be the night the professional musicians and and dancers at the resort have off, because Sunday was KARAOKE NIGHT.

My first reaction when I learned this was, “I’m so out of there, let’s go watch TV in our room and see if I can figure out an action movie in Spanish.” But I must have been too lazy to immediately bolt, because soon we were watching karaoke.

Post-karaoke selfie in my new dress I bought at the resort.

My inner monologue soon turned into a loop of “I would never do this…could I do this?… I probably wouldn’t be too much worse than anyone else who’s on stage, not that I’m judging them/being a bitch, God bless them for having a good time (oh snap, yes, I’m totally judging them…I could do this…it’s too late to do this…I’m not drunk enough to do this…being on that stage would probably feel amazing…I should do this!”

I finally realized that if I was thinking/obsessing about it THAT much, I should just do the damn karaoke. Unfortunately/fortunately, by the time my alcohol consumption and the logistics of the evening were in the proper mix, I was the very last person to perform. So I had the honor of closing down the show and sing “Girls Just Wanna to Have Fun” to Chad and about 10 staff people.

Luckily, they had my go-to Karaoke song, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.” And if you’re wondering if I do karaoke enough to have a go-to song, Chad had the same question. While I definitely had a, shall we say, rather intense karaoke phase, it was more than a decade ago, And while usually weird and embarrassing, my forays into karaoke usually occurred safely at home or at private parties (sometimes regrettably at library/work settings), courtesy of my own karaoke machine.

I think it’s been four years since I’ve done karaoke at all, and that was a sweet but rather misguided duet of Chad and I singing “Embraceable You” (it was TOTALLY in the wrong key). And while I feel like I’ve performed “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” at karaoke at least a couple of time, I can really only remember doing it once at a Snyder family wedding. 

Okay, maybe it’s more a symbolic than actual go-to karaoke song, but I felt I could pull it off. It’s a good choice for me it requires a limited range and I can just stay up high in my head voice, and more importantly, I feel Cyndi’s longing to “be the one who walks in the sun.” So I was brave and faced down my self-doubt and good judgement, and did that karaoke thing. I even danced a bit. And I was right, being on that stage DID feel amazing.

Sadly, there’s no video of it, but perhaps that’s for the best…I can just choose to  believe I wasn’t too bad and that I remember how much fun this girl had.