2012 and 2013

So, blogging is apparently something I do on a semi-annual basis now.  Or, once per Blogger software update.  As is customary in this sort of I-haven't-posted-in-ages-and-probably-have-no-readers-anymore post, I'll start with a roundup of my activities over the past few months and then zoom in on my current state. Spoiler alert: it's pretty much the same as my state six months ago.

• I had a pleasant summer.  I ran, I worked, I sat in Riverside Park and read.  It was very nice. 
• I went to Lake George for a couple days, where took bubble baths, hiked, and walked around quaint tourist towns.  It was lovely.
• I went to Alaska, where I hiked, kayaked, canoed, walked on a glacier, and (primarily) wore five layers of clothing at all times and shivered all night in my double layer of sleeping bags as the freezing rain pelted my tent.  It was awesome.
• I saw some plays.  Mostly Roundabout productions.  I was not terribly impressed by this season's offerings.  I also saw some ballet, at Joyce and New York City Ballet, which I liked better.  Most recently The Nutcracker, which was exactly as great as it always is.
• I changed jobs within my company.  I'm still doing the same sort of work, but on a different product.  So there are a bunch of new ropes to learn.  It's a challenge, but I'm learning a lot.
• I went to my parents' new house at the beach twice, once in September - for outlet shopping, birthday cake, and the actual beach - and once in November - for Thanksgiving.  I returned from the latter trip with the now-traditional gingerbread house, which I photographed for my Christmas card.  Possibly a new tradition.
• I participated in Nanowrimo for the fourth time and won it for the first.  Which means I completed a 50,000 word novel in 30 days (actually, in my case 24 - I knocked out the last few thousands words in the car on the way back from Thanksgiving).

Heading into the holiday season, I'm more or less free of plans.  I've completed the Annual Family Holiday Gathering, my shopping, and most of my cards.  I'm looking forward to a couple of long weekends in which I will clean my apartment (maybe), watch the last two seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (assuming I can hold off for the next five days), and think about 2013.

Which means, first, looking back at 2012.  I'm inclined to say initially that it was a year of stasis.  A relaxing, fun year, in which I really enjoyed my current situation but didn't really make any progress.  But in January I made some goals, and it seems appropriate to revisit them now, to evaluate whether I've met them and whether they're still important.

• Work.  The goal here is, really, to figure out what my goals are.  Well, that's a vague and amorphous goal if I've ever seen one.  I certainly wouldn't say that I've figured out what my goals are.  Although I have made a change, which has kept the challenges fresh, and I've started thinking about this a bit more seriously.  Obviously this is an important area to keep on the table, but perhaps I should refine it a bit, no?
• Running... I do plan on running several half-marathons, and I'd like to work on whittling down my time. If I were just 10-20% faster, I wouldn't be slower than practically every other person who runs in Central Park.  I ran two half-marathons and bailed on a third.  But I re-took the running course I did in the winter of 2011, and I ran several shorter races this summer and a 10k just this morning.  I haven't run any of the same races this fall as I did at the end of 2011, so there's no easy way to measure my improvement, but I'd say I'm about 3-5% faster than I was a year ago.  I didn't expect to get 10% faster inside a year (although I've definitely gotten 10% faster in the four years since I moved to New York) and will continue working on this; while I don't expect to see rapid gains, I think I can still improve.
• Travel.  I did some, mostly small trips.  Alaska was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  But I didn't do much of visiting friends in other cities, which I'd planned and hoped to do.  A partial fail.
• Social life.  This year I want to focus on strengthening my connections.  When friends are just people you talk to once in a while, it's easy to drift apart.  When they're people you do things with, you have a more vibrant bond.  This was my big failure for the year.  Several people wandered out of my life this year for reasons not connected to me, and while I've worked to stay in touch with them, it's clear my friendships with them will not continue at the same level.  I've had a hard time replacing them with new friends, in part because I don't feel a terribly strong desire to make friends so much as a general sense that I'd be happier if I had more.  And some of the friendships I do have are beginning to feel rather diaphanous.  This is, of course, related to my no having traveled to visit my friends.  I think this goal will be a recurring one requiring continual effort; maintaining a healthy social network is important and not always easy.
• Cultural engagement.  I'm satisfied with my effort here.  I haven't been to the opera in 2012, but I've been to the ballet and the theater several times each, I've read a fair amount and started documenting my reading on Goodreads, and I've made an effort to balance my intake.
• Writing.  Although I had months on end of not doing any of it, this was a big win for 2012.  I published a novel written several years ago as a kindle ebook, which was exhilarating, and I wrote a (very rough) novel in November.  I hope to capitalize on this progress in 2013.  

So, all in all 2012 was a success.  There are areas I don't feel compelled to push myself on in 2013 (travel) and areas I think I need to be a bit more aware of (socialization), but on the whole I expect my priorities to remain similar.  That's not a very exciting conclusion, but it's nice to think I'm headed in more or less the right direction.

on writing, mine and others'

This evening I experienced something truly phenomenal, even by New York standards.  I went to an event at Barnes and Noble, a "conversation" between the authors Judy Blume and Tayari Jones.  I'm still not clear on the motivation for bringing these two together - Jones' third novel just came out in paperback, but Blume wasn't promoting anything in particular, and of course has no need to promote anything, and they have such disparate audiences and styles that the attendees were a very mixed group.  But as they talked, I realized that they both write about the same thing, the thing that virtually all serious modern fiction is about: what it means to be and become yourself, what the voices of the silent sound like, and - as Tayari said - what the real secrets are.

I stayed to have books signed by both authors, and spoke to Tayari briefly.  She recognized me but couldn't place me, and I told her I'd taken her fiction class in Illinois.  She remembered me then, and she was surprised and pleased that I'd moved to New York.  When I took her class - years ago, and it seems lifetimes ago - I was lost in my own life, displaced and misplaced and confused about who I was or whether I was anyone at all.  In her class, I wrote story after story with different details but all about the same thing: young women who had lost the person or the thing who made their lives make sense, as I'd lost my own best friend a few years earlier.  I wrote about these women breaking out of their lives, but in my stories they never seemed to go anywhere.  Tayari told me two things: that I should never write about New York until I'd lived here, and that the problem with my stories was that I wrote silent heroines.

It took me years to move to New York, but I realized quickly that she was right about my heroines.  Over the years, I'd written at least a dozen stories about women who, discarding a few details, could have been all the same person.  Deferential, recessive, invisible women.  Deeply unhappy women who told nobody - not their misunderstanding friends or their unsatisfactory boyfriends or their critical mothers, not their therapists or their deities because they typically didn't believe in either, not even themselves - what they wanted in life.  Women who drifted, who wound up in situations that made for interesting stories but difficult lives.  These were the characters I wrote because they were the only characters I really understood, because this was the only way I knew how to be.  My heroines were silent because I had lost my own voice.

After the class ended, I put aside the short stories.  It was summer and I wanted something light and fun.  I began reading children's literature - Harriet the Spy and Anastasia Krupnik and A Wrinkle in Time.  Books about girls (there are so few about women) who spoke out loud.  And I read the Harry Potter books for the first time.  I started imagining a girl, part Hermoine and part Harriet and part Anastasia, and a quiet prepubescent life of reading and solitude, and what would happen to that little girl when her life developed a mind of its own.  I started writing, not the kind of drawn-out and heavily wordsmithed writing I'd done previously, but just writing.

I wrote ten pages, took it with me to the Iowa Writer's Workshop, came home inspired, and started writing faster.  Every Saturday I'd sit in Barnes and Noble - I'd bring a sandwich and buy coffee and snacks and stay there for hours, reading children's books and typing - and write another chapter.  I'd write fast, switching settings when I ran out of ideas.  I published the chapters on my university web page, and some of my friends and family read them.  I wrote for a season - eighteen chapters over four or five months - and then it was finished.  I'd written a novel.

The novel was called The Library Cave.  It was a short novel, really more of a novella.  Since then I've revised it, lightly - the project of seriously editing a work of that length is something I don't quite know how to embark on.  I started writing a prequel and a sequel, but neither of them had quite the same magic, or maybe I was just in a different place.  A few months ago, I realized that The Library Cave, which I'd been telling myself I'd finish - revise or expand - for years, was done.  It wasn't perfect, but the time of writing it had ended, and I wanted to release it into the world in a format more cohesive than the list of chapters on my (now very defunct) university web page.

So I published it as a kindle book.  Reader(s), this is an advertisement.  I published it under a pseudonym because I was embarrassed, because I was afraid of putting my name next to something and not having the ability to remove it.  But it's mine, it's out there, and if you're interested you can buy it for $1 or - if you're a Prime member - borrow it for free.

40th Annual NYRR Mini 10k

I have kind of a weakness for events like this, that bring people - usually women - of all stripes together to run.  Forty years ago, the idea of women running, or participating in any athletic endeavor, was mildly scandalous, and now women run professionally, women run in tutus, women run wearing t-shirts bearing their name or their cause or the phrase "I [heart] Sweat".  Central Park West was closed on Saturday morning so that over six thousand women could run up it, and many of their male friends and partners and family ran on the sidewalk alongside the race or marshaled the course or cheered.  

As for me, I had a great race.  I had half-intended to just run it as a regular workout, since I haven't been running very much and it was 70 degrees an hour before the start.  But in the excitement of the race, my first mile - at a "comfortable but brisk" perceived exertion and up an gentle incline - clocked in around 9:36.  I slowed down a good deal after that, or thought I did, but my second mile came in at 9:46.  I was starting to feel the heat by then - I was experiencing "brownouts", where my head would get prickly and I'd start to see spots - so I kept "slowing down" and clocked in a 9:30 mile on the hills above 100th St.  

(About these speeds - I know they're not impressive for most runners, but for me, this is fast.  Very fast.  The last 10k I ran, two years ago, was at an 11:03 pace, and I typically race around a 10:30-10:45.  So paces with 9's in front of them seem fast to me.  Dangerously fast.  It's a good thing I didn't look at my watch after the first mile, because I'd have certainly psyched myself out and backed way off the scary paces.)

By the fourth mile I suffering.  This part of the course is a steady, moderate uphill with very few breaks.  I'd been walking through every water station to pour ice water on my face and neck - heat really doesn't agree with me - and had stopped feeling dangerously overheated.  But despite the breaks, I couldn't stabilize my heart rate or breathing.  My legs were getting tired, I hadn't been mentally prepared to race, and my mental game was down.  That mile came in at 10:18, my slowest of the race.  

The rest of the course was easier.  I was able to recover on the fifth mile for a 9:41, which I'm proud of because it's typically hard for me to bring my speed back up after a significant slowdown; this was a real triumph of mental game  I started to fall apart on the last 1.2 miles of the race; I was mentally in it, but my legs felt loose and heavy, and I ran a 9:59 sixth mile, probably a very uneven one.  I got a little bit of fire back at the end and finished with 0.35 at a 9:26 pace.  

My garmin total was 6.35 miles at a 9:48 average pace; and my official time was 1:01:58 for 6.2 miles with a 9:59 average pace.  For me this is... well, kind of incredible.  I'd said something, a few weeks ago, about how it would be cool to run a 10k in under an hour, but I thought it would take a long time - multiple seasons - to get in that kind of shape.  But based on this race, it would really just take a cooler day, a flatter course, and proper mental preparation.  

As time passes, I am increasingly aware of how lucky I am.  A lot of that luck is an absence of bad things; it seems like chronic physical illness or pain and persistent financial difficulty are two of the things that most readily sap away happiness, and I'm lucky to be free of both of those.  But it's more than that.  I haven't been terribly adept at arranging my life - in fact, I haven't really arranged my life at all - and yet somehow I've happened onto an arrangement so awesome that I don't think I would have dared to try to arrange it.  Not to gloat, but I live in a not-completely-awful apartment in an awesome neighborhood, I have a good job that I'm good at, and I spend my spare time attending cultural events and playing outside.  The other day, I was accidentally a complete bitch when I interrupted a semi-serious conversation with a friend in order to go to bed because - as I told her - I had to get up in six hours to get a spin bike.  I don't just have white girl problems, I have upper west side problems.

I feel like I talk about this a lot, and like it maybe gets old, and my reader(s) are tired of hearing about it.  But it really does baffle me.  How did I get here?  It feels like I spent ten years wandering in the desert of academia before arriving pretty much at random in the promised land (NYC as Israel is not actually the worst analogy ever).  Sure, the city is draining sometimes, there is stress, taxis are evil, etc.  But I don't see how I could ever stop being grateful for being here - in a city that is the setting for so many movies and so many dreams, and in a life that surprises me constantly with its variety and ability to renew itself.  Sometimes I wish I had gotten here sooner, but I think maybe I needed that decade of wandering, because "here" is not just New York; it's the state of being out of the wilderness that was my twenties, when I had no idea who or what I might be and was utterly at the mercy of every flickering whim around me.  

I'm working late tonight (in the endless, evil cycle of making bugs, fixing them, submitting tickets to test the fixes, waiting for the tickets to be picked up, and discovering that I've made some different bug), but I don't mind so much because every night this week I've left extremely early (by which I mean 6:15, 6:30, and 5:15(!)).  What did I do with these hours and hours of freedom?

1) Pilates.  I've done pilates before.  During grad school, I did exercise videos or DVDs most days, and I had a pilates-lite (crossed with aerobics, very weird) DVD that I did as a sort of rest.  I went to one or two pilates classes a couple years ago.  And I've occasionally done a set of 10-minute pilates workouts (that you can do, like, one every hour so you don't get too tired).  So I knew it would be hard, but it was really really really hard.  Like, at one point, I was shaking.  And it goes on for an hour.  What I found interesting was that the tone of the class I went to a couple times a couple years ago, which I'd thought was peculiar to that instructor, was replicated almost exactly in this class.  A sort of mocking chumminess.  Maybe it's a pilates thing.

2) No spin class.  Spin class was cancelled due to the gym being locked.  It was very sad, but I did get to go to another gym.  And starting today, I can go to any gym I want because my employer approves of fitness.

3)  Book club!  The book this month was Girl in Translation.  Three of us read it and found it thought-provoking.  We met at Bar Veloce, a Chelsea standbye, which was as I remembered it - expensive and right above the train tracks.  We talked about the fact that a fourth book club member is getting married next weekend, and what we should wear.

4) The Wall Street Run, which is, as per its name, a run on Wall Street.  Actually it's a three-mile run in the financial district, for which they have to close a number of narrow streets that are probably usually choked with cars and taxis.  It seemed like every bank, hedge fund, insurance agency, newspaper, and hospital in the city, plus Fresh Direct and the NYPD Bomb Squad, had a team.  It was kind of cool, having 12,000 people who don't usually race take over downtown Manhattan on a Thursday afternoon.  And then the race started and I realized that "people who don't usually race" translates to "people who have no idea how fast they are going to run and therefore start in the eight-minute-mile corral even though they can only run for three minutes at a time".  But it was still kind of cool, because we went all around the financial district and finished on the water, and they did a good job providing us with water and fruit and Jenny Craig snacks (I ate two of them as my pre-race snack, because I tend not to be very good about eating sufficiently when I'm at work, and probably the whole point of these snacks is that you are meant to eat only one and then nothing else for twelve hours.).  

After the race I ran home, which was 5.25 miles.  There's something really awesome, to my mind, about traversing large chunks of the city on foot, and going from one place to another when you thought of those places as being disconnected.  

My Blogworthy Spring

It has been pointed out to me that I have become a bad blogger.  In that I have not blogged in 3.5 months.  I would tell you that this is because I have not done anything blogworthy in the last 3.5 months, but the whole point of blogs is supposed to be that the bar height for "blogworthy" is infinitesimal.  So without further ado:

• I ran two half-marathons.  Yes, we do always start out with running around here.  I was injured for, basically, half the spring, and then I ran a whole bunch, and it cured me.  The first half was the MORE (women only) Half Marathon, in Central Park.  It went okay; I suffered from the hills and the heat and finished in 2:27, which is a decent time for me and a PR (personal record) for that course.  The second, a month later, was the Brooklyn Half Marathon, a much easier course.  I had basically not trained at all since the MORE so I intended to do poorly, but I ended up with a 2:18 finish, which is a PR, and crossed the finished line hand in hand with my gentleman caller runner.
• I did not actually go on any trips, but I planned a few - two short and one long - for later in the summer. Very exciting, right?  Stay tuned.
• I bought lots of sweat-wicking clothes.  My fashion aesthetic has turned into "all workout gear all the time".  This is not so much because I'm a gym rat as because the other options, as far as I can tell from stores, appear to be "my grandmother, who thinks enormous tunics and baggy pants are stylish and flattering" and "prostitute".  But there are some really adorable tennis skirts and yoga tops out there

This weekend, which I understand is supposed to be a very exciting Holiday Weekend, has been pretty low-key.  I installed my air conditioner and had my bike fixed and got my annual haircut (very short, slightly puffy, currently full of styling product).  I saw a contemporary ballet performance at the Joyce (iffy for the first two acts, very good for the last act) and Don't Dress for Dinner on Broadway (hilarious for the first act, draggy for the second act).  I ate Thai food, felafel, organic brunch at Josie's (a rare treat), and pizza.  I did not exercise except for a little bit of yoga and a bike ride, because the gyms are mostly closed and it's hot out, although apparently I am running tomorrow morning.

Anyway.  Perhaps I will come back to blogging now.  If so, there will be exciting installments... well, probably not tomorrow.  But soon.

on Valentine's Day

I have not been blogging much.  You, the reader, have probably not noticed this, mostly because you, the reader, do not exist.  But I have been doing other things, like working (surprisingly time-consuming) and running and going to the theater and attempting to maintain a social life (also surprisingly time-consuming).  Also I went to Cancun for a few days (highlight: we rented a waverunner and I got to drive it!  This is because my gentleman caller did not believe that they would let me, so he conceded the point without a fight... he didn't try to take it back when they actually let me take control of what is basically a motorcycle with a rudder, though, and he rode on the back with minimal complaint, so he's a brave man.  other highlight: snorkeling, and swimming in the ocean, and lying on the beach doing nothing, and looking at our awesome view.  third highlight: sometimes they had chocolate at breakfast.) and helped my parents move (to the beach!  my parents are going to live at the beach!  in a brand-new, very pretty house.) and attempted (unsuccessfully) to run a half-marathon in the snow (turns out snow is fluffy, like sand but way colder).

So, now that that sad attempt to catch up on things is over, I'm going to talk about what I actually want to talk about, which is Valentine's Day.  I like Valentine's Day.  I mean, I like most holidays.  I like Halloween, although I'm too old to celebrate it by going trick-or-treating and too sane to celebrate it by drinking myself half to death.  I like Thanksgiving even though I don't like turkey.  I love Christmas even though I don't, technically, celebrate it, and every year I find more ways for a nice Jewish girl to enjoy the yuletide season.  I'm middling fond of all the little holidays; nothing against them, but when you're not a kid and don't have kids of their own, half the time there doesn't seem to be anything to do.  That doesn't stop me from trying, though, by watching the fireworks on July 4th even though they make me sad, and wearing green on St. Patrick's Day, and I've been known to throw the occasional Midsummer's Eve party.

So it's not exactly out of character for me to like Valentine's Day.  Actually, as holidays go, it seems like a pretty good one.  It's at a good time - there are no other holidays near it to distract, and February tends to be kind of a yucky month otherwise - and it's not religious and its major features are love and chocolate and pretty window displays.  What's not to like?

I know, I know.  Most people don't like the love bit.  I don't really get this.  If I'm not in a relationship and unhappy about that, well, it's not like I would have forgotten this fact if it weren't for a few paper hearts; if anything, hearing about other people's romantic moments makes me hopeful that something similar is in my future.  If I am in a relationship, there is of course the danger the holiday will go poorly, but that hasn't happened to me in a very long time, with perfectly good reason - since it occurs on the same day every year for every person, since it's not religious, since there are easy and obvious gifts, at least for men to give women, at all price points, it's an easy holiday to get right.  So, really, it seems like a no-brainer - an excuse to go out for a nice meal and exchange tokens if I'm in a relationship, an excuse to buy chocolate and watch sappy movies if I'm not, and a win either way.

Apparently I was wrong.  My gentleman caller, in response to my (extremely gentle and not consisting of loading the webpage and pointing out appropriate items) hints, gave me a lovely heart-shaped box of chocolates as part of our celebration (I gave him a video game.  It was actually a romantic video game, in that it has a two-player mode.  He seemed to like it.).  I happened to still have it with me when I met up with some girlfriends later on.  I thought this would be fine.

Apparently not.  Why, you may ask?  Did they lecture me about the wastefulness of its packaging?  The indulgence of purchasing such decadent, unhealthful food while people are starving?  The evilness of sugar?

No.  Their objections were, basically, that they hate Valentine's Day.  It completely boggles my mind that they would feel this way since they are, actually, my friends, so I feel compelled to rebut their objections one by one.

1) One friend hates Valentine's Day because you should celebrate your love every day (yes, really).  I mean, yes, consistent affection is important and it's always wonderful to give and receive unexpected gestures or gifts.  But many people have a hard time being spontaneously romantic, or don't know whether it's appropriate or would be welcome, or simply forget and take their partner for granted, so it's helpful to have a day earmarked to be more than usually aware.

2) Another friend hates Valentine's Day (or maybe is just indifferent to it) because we shouldn't only appreciate our romantic partners, we should appreciate our friends and everyone we love.  Which is true, we should.  But then isn't that just extra reason to like Valentine's Day, because now it's a much bigger celebration?  Or a reason to declare a whole extra holiday just for friendship or family?

3) A third friend hates Valentine's Day because it's too commercial.  Which would be a completely sensible argument if it were made by a cloistered nun, or a new-age hippie who lived on a commune and grew his own food.  But made by a person who lives in the world it seems a bit odd.  I mean, life is commercial.  You work for money so that you can buy the things you need.  If you have extra money, you buy things you want, or things for other people.  Valentine's Day is not, by its nature, a super-expensive holiday - you can have a candlelit dinner of boxed macaroni and cheese at your home for very little money, cards can be bought for cheap or made for free, and expressions of romantic sentiment have no monetary value.  Lots of people do spend money on their significant others, but so what?  By this logic, Saturday night is too commercial because most people in New York spend a ton of money going out drinking.

4) The fourth friend hates Valentine's Day because it's stupid (her words).  And she's right, it is kind of stupid.  Frilly red and pink decorations, chocolate in funny-shaped boxes, flowers that will be dead in two days - it's silly.  But so what?  Lots of things that people do are stupid.  If we only did things that were totally efficient and productive and sense-making, we'd be boring, and worse, we'd be bored.

My counterarguments didn't carry any weight in this gathering.  They ranted a bit, I put my chocolate away, and we talked about something else.  But it saddens me that there are people (who aren't bitter teenagers) who feel this way about such a delightful occasion.  It's difficult enough that so many people senselessly dislike Christmas; for Valentine's Day, there's so much less baggage and therefore less excuse.  So what if it's superfluous or superficial or stupid?  Aren't some of the very best things in life?

why I run

I've been running a fair amount.  I did a 15k a month after the marathon and, just over a month later, I'm about to do a half-marathon.  I'm taking a Tuesday night running class and sometimes I run with a friend or a group from work and try to get in a long run every weekend, and if that doesn't add up to enough I do another run or two on the treadmill during the week.

People ask me all the time why I do it.  Not how I do it, because I'm not good at it.  I'm not the tiniest bit fast or any sort of strong, and my endurance, which is my least-weak area, is not really very good.  I'm just a regular person, a regular slow and weak person, who runs somewhat a lot.  (In fact, as runners go, I don't run very much at all.)  Non-runners ask me why I do it because they think I must be crazy to willingly subject myself to cold weather and muscle pain and the general feeling of impending death.  Even worse, sometimes runners ask me why I do it because can't understand how I could possibly enjoy it given how much I suck.

But I do enjoy it.  I enjoy exercise, I enjoy the outdoors, I enjoy numbers (there are a lot of numbers in running).  I enjoy pushing myself.  I enjoy the feeling of calm after a tough workout. 

I enjoy it *more* because I suck.  I'm good at the same number of things as everybody else, but the things I'm good at are the things that get quantified a lot.  I was good at school.  I was good at tests.  I was good at my job before I switched careers, and I'm good at my job now.  I'm good at being responsible and organized and taking initiative and following through.  Being good at these things has made my life easier and probably better, but there's not much satisfaction in being naturally good at things.

Historically, the things I suck at have been things I could avoid, or things I could decide were unimportant.  I can't sing or draw or cook, so I don't. I spend orders of magnitude less time than most women in New York (or everywhere?) fussing over my appearance because I can't quite wrap my mind around the concept of trying to be beautiful.  I was never a social butterfly, and I never tried to be.  I've never been much of one for chasing boys - they chase me, or they don't - or pursuing friendships or pushing for, really, anything.  I've actually had to be reminded that if you don't apply for jobs, you are not going to be offered any.  Generally if something doesn't come naturally to me, I just don't do it, and I'm lucky enough that I've been able to get by.

Or unlucky enough.  Because I've generally been good at things in a number and combination sufficient to my survival, I haven't been forced to leave my comfort zone.  I've worked hard, but only in ways I'm comfortable with.  I've been the person it's easy for me to be, but not always the person I want to be and, maybe, could be.

Running is not easy for me.  Being bad at things is not easy for me.  I finished in the 11th percentile of marathon runners in the 2011 ING New York City Marathon, and I'm pretty sure - aside from, possibly, other races - I've never worked that hard to be in the 11th percentile of anything before.  But I'm proud of myself for sticking to it, for going out there a few times a week and fighting - as best I can on that day - to suck a little bit less.  Running is teaching me to struggle, to fail a lot of the time and keep on trying, to work hard for no immediate reward, to do something that may never matter to anyone but myself.  It's practice, for growing into my own imperfect self.

2011 and 2012

I didn't really make New Year's resolutions - or, as it seems to be fashionable to call them just now - annual goals for 2011.  I felt like 2010 had been a very full and challenging year, in particular with finally making a much-anticipated career change, and that I deserved a break.  In 2011, I wanted to just be.

So I was.  And, actually, the year was far from empty.  Here are some highlights:

• Work.  I got settled into my (not-so-) new (anymore) job.  This is the first time I've had a job that didn't have a pre-ordained expiration date, and the first time I've worked outside of academia, so it's been a big adjustment.
• Running.  I did a fair amount of it, including a half-marathon PR in Brooklyn in May and finishing the 2011 ING New York City marathon.  I'm still very slow and very weak, but I'm hella stubborn.  
• Travel.  I went to Costa Rica and took a cycling trip in Ireland.  I also visited family in San Diego and went to a wedding in Nebraska. 
• Social life.  I was a bit worried, at the end of 2010, that with the career change I'd drift apart from old friends and not make new ones.  And, yes, I did drift apart from some friends, but other friendships remained intact or even strengthened, and I've met some great new people. 

It's certainly not the massive list of accomplishments that some people post, but I don't think it's half bad.  This year I have some goals in these areas, as well as some new goals:

• Work.  The goal here is, really, to figure out what my goals are.
• Running.  I don't plan on running another marathon this year; it's such a massive investment of time and energy that I can't see doing it without severely compromising other objectives, which means not doing it all that often.  But I do plan on running several half-marathons, and I'd like to work on whittling down my time.  Not to be really fast - I doubt that's possible for me - but just to be, well, less slow.  If I were just 10-20% faster, I'd be able to run with (some of) my friends without holding them back, and go on group runs without worrying about keeping up, and my long runs would take less time, and I wouldn't be slower than practically every other person who runs in Central Park.  So I've been doing tempo runs and hills and giving (almost) every workout a purpose.  I've also signed up for weekly running classes specifically designed to target speed.  I realize I'll never be a speed demon (in fact, so far all the extra work seems to be making me slower and weaker), but I think it's worth investing some energy trying to improve myself in this department.
• Travel.  I haven't fully hammered this out yet.  I may go to Turkey in the spring.  I may visit friends in other cities.  I may visit friends in other cities to run half marathons with them. 
• Social life.  This year I want to focus on strengthening my connections.  When friends are just people you talk to once in a while, it's easy to drift apart.  When they're people you do things with, you have a more vibrant bond.  I have lots of friends in other cities - including some very cool cities, and I'd like to visit some of them.  I also plan to do more running with friends and in groups, which is part of why I'd like to be less slow.  And I'll look for other opportunities to build relationships based on something other than a shared affinity for wine / gossip / cupcakes.
• Cultural engagement.  There's only so much time in the week, and - especially in the last six months, as running and social engagements took up more of my time - I've had to drop some things.  I've been doing a lot of theater-going, which is good.  I'd like to resume attendance at the semi-serious book club of which I'm a delinquent member, which means acquiring and reading the books in a timely manner.  I'd like to go to the ballet several times and the opera occasionally.  I'd like to be less lazy in the things I read and watch at home, too - it's easy for me to come home and queue up the next episode of DS9 or scroll through the new posts in my Google Reader, and there's nothing wrong with that, but I want to make more time to engage with longer things - serious movies and books that aren't mindless-metro-chick-lit downloaded for a dollar.  In the last couple weeks I read Richard Russo's Bridge of Sighs, which I thought was only okay (it was hard to get a bead on the main character, and it didn't really come together in the end), but it was nice to have something to sink my teeth into.  This afternoon I'm watching Waitress, which is not as fluffy as I thought it would be; in fact it's a little bit scary and depressing, but that's probably the point
• Writing.  This is the final and most frightening goal.  I have a lot of resistance to writing properly.  It's easy to hammer out a blog post every so often - at times I've written them every day (not here, obviously).  It's harder to write - and revise! - something of substance.  But I want to do it, or more accurately I want to stick with it.  Especially with the emergence of Kindle self-publishing, it's easy for this sort of project to have an actual end goal.  There's some good stuff out there, and some real dreck, and there's no reason my writing shouldn't join all the other writing out in the world.