It was over 100 degrees two days we were there, but I didn't allow that to dim my enthusiasm. After all, competing in the USMS National Swimming Championships at the Mt. Hood Community College Aquatic Center, I was in the pool most of the time anyway - warming up, racing, then cooling down and repeating that same pattern again and again for three consecutive days. I wore a full body suit in every race (which took way too long to get on and tired me out more than any of my races) and dropped all of my times, placing 2nd in the 45-49 age group in the 100 and 200 breast and 3rd in the 50 breast and getting 5th in a 200 free relay with my awesome teammates; Jason Sixkiller, Laura Smith and Ted Hammond. Arizona Masters took 3rd overall in the meet, out of 148 total teams. All I have to say about my Arizona teammates is you people really know how to move through that water! I look forward to swimming with you again soon.
I'd like to thank the many amazing people I met at the meet for really making the meet a memorable experience for me. At the social dinners and at the meet, I met swimmers of all ages from Oregon, Washington, North Carolina, Michigan, Arizona, California, and Florida as well as the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico.
Portland is so beautiful- everywhere there are evergreens, flowers and ferns and the city overall is so clean and well-organized and you can take public transportation almost anywhere. From the airport, the snow-capped volcanic cone of Mt. Hood could be seen in the distance and only miles from our Gresham hotel was the Columbia River, along which there were dozens of hiking trails. Hiking Multnomah Falls on Monday was an experience I'll never forget. It was quite a way to break my two week taper, hiking up 20 or so high-angle switchbacks in high humidity surrounded by towering pines. At the top, my legs trembled as I peered over the edge of the precipice where the waterfall tumbled into a pool hundreds of feet below. Heights definitely aren't my thing so don't expect to find me hanggliding or rappelling down waterfalls anytime soon. Even when people stepped on the platform and it jiggled, it gave me the willies. It felt good to stand on solid ground again, but not so good to say goodbye to the Portland area later that day.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Destination: Portland, Oregon
For the first time this year, I'll be competing in USMS Swimming Nationals. Is it because I'm a fast swimmer? Kinda not. Although I seem to be getting pretty fast for an "old lady" as my 15-year-old daughter likes to call me. After only a month of training, I'm approaching my best times from high school and college. Seriously. Which is kind of cool, really. And cool is something I need right now since I live in Tucson and its another 3 digit day.
My competitive streak hasn't diminished with years. After all, just because I have a few wrinkles doesn't mean I'm going to chill out and let you young people kick my slightly wrinkled ... And unlike when I was younger, I'm in tune with my body. Which probably compensates for my aging muscles and joints. I know how to train and how not to and what constitutes a proper diet. When I was 16, proper training meant improving strength and speed by pulling on lane lines and proper diet meant eating as much as possible of anything that contained massive amounts of sugar.
So in mid-August, its off to Portland, Oregon to swim. There, I might even be able to breathe (which I couldn't do too well at last weekend's Sun Devils meet in Phoenix when it was 115). And I'm hoping I will be able to stretch out on my towel on the nice cool grass, underneath a shady evergreen tree and read my novel while I wait to swim, just like I did when I was an age group swimmer back in Ohio. I won't be licking jello powder from my fingers between events or playing Egyptian rummy with a bunch of hormonal teenagers, who seem to (quite intentionally I think) keep missing the stack of cards and hitting other parts of people of the opposite sex's bodies on the slapdowns. But I will be in the company of others who love the sport as much as I do - and surrounded by people who inspire me - what to me has always been a quintessential part of the swimming experience.
My competitive streak hasn't diminished with years. After all, just because I have a few wrinkles doesn't mean I'm going to chill out and let you young people kick my slightly wrinkled ... And unlike when I was younger, I'm in tune with my body. Which probably compensates for my aging muscles and joints. I know how to train and how not to and what constitutes a proper diet. When I was 16, proper training meant improving strength and speed by pulling on lane lines and proper diet meant eating as much as possible of anything that contained massive amounts of sugar.
So in mid-August, its off to Portland, Oregon to swim. There, I might even be able to breathe (which I couldn't do too well at last weekend's Sun Devils meet in Phoenix when it was 115). And I'm hoping I will be able to stretch out on my towel on the nice cool grass, underneath a shady evergreen tree and read my novel while I wait to swim, just like I did when I was an age group swimmer back in Ohio. I won't be licking jello powder from my fingers between events or playing Egyptian rummy with a bunch of hormonal teenagers, who seem to (quite intentionally I think) keep missing the stack of cards and hitting other parts of people of the opposite sex's bodies on the slapdowns. But I will be in the company of others who love the sport as much as I do - and surrounded by people who inspire me - what to me has always been a quintessential part of the swimming experience.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sometimes you don't have to travel far...
Sometimes you don't have to travel far to find inspiration. Tonight, my husband and I only traveled from our northwest Tucson home to the Diamond Center in south Tucson for the David Sanborn/Al Jarreau concert. And you know what? When Al stepped up on stage, I felt myself taking a walk back through the better part of my life.
I remember how I first heard his song, "After All," when I was a student at Clemson and thinking his voice sounds incredible, I sure hope he produces more music. One time when I had a few too many (and the perfect man was no where to be found), I was listening to that song and either the volume (or my backup singing) was so loud, the police showed up at my door - oops.
Years later, I saw Al's Tenderness CD on sale in a Bangkok marketplace and bought it. My husband at that time and I listened to it in the car and later a colleague played the entire album for us on his high tech sound system. I remember hearing the song "You Don't See Me" and thinking of the man I called husband. He didn't know me at all.
I bought Heaven and Earth while I was living in southern Peru. I listened to those songs when hiking the Inca Trail and mountain biking through Colca Canyon and hanging out in my living room writing thoughts on a yellow pad. And I imagined a man who would understand me the way my husband didn't and ended up falling in love with the Peruvian landscape. And when I came back to the United States, I eventually left the man who had never understood me anyway behind and met a stranger "I met along the way," as the Moonlighting theme goes.
No matter what year it has been, no matter where I have been, I have heard Al Jarreau's happy voice singing to me, inspiring me, lifting me from the darker moments, making me feel brighter, like life should be more of a celebration than a chore. And when he walks out on that stage, his face is radiant, his smile broad and you can feel the magic of his energy. I can't think of another performer who has been on tour and producing great music for almost 40 years. His songs of love that were once a romantic dream are now a promise fulfilled that I enjoyed tremendously tonight with a man who understands. Thank you so much Al Jarreau for your uplifting beautiful concert and thank you so much Chris for taking me and being there to enjoy the moment!
I remember how I first heard his song, "After All," when I was a student at Clemson and thinking his voice sounds incredible, I sure hope he produces more music. One time when I had a few too many (and the perfect man was no where to be found), I was listening to that song and either the volume (or my backup singing) was so loud, the police showed up at my door - oops.
Years later, I saw Al's Tenderness CD on sale in a Bangkok marketplace and bought it. My husband at that time and I listened to it in the car and later a colleague played the entire album for us on his high tech sound system. I remember hearing the song "You Don't See Me" and thinking of the man I called husband. He didn't know me at all.
I bought Heaven and Earth while I was living in southern Peru. I listened to those songs when hiking the Inca Trail and mountain biking through Colca Canyon and hanging out in my living room writing thoughts on a yellow pad. And I imagined a man who would understand me the way my husband didn't and ended up falling in love with the Peruvian landscape. And when I came back to the United States, I eventually left the man who had never understood me anyway behind and met a stranger "I met along the way," as the Moonlighting theme goes.
No matter what year it has been, no matter where I have been, I have heard Al Jarreau's happy voice singing to me, inspiring me, lifting me from the darker moments, making me feel brighter, like life should be more of a celebration than a chore. And when he walks out on that stage, his face is radiant, his smile broad and you can feel the magic of his energy. I can't think of another performer who has been on tour and producing great music for almost 40 years. His songs of love that were once a romantic dream are now a promise fulfilled that I enjoyed tremendously tonight with a man who understands. Thank you so much Al Jarreau for your uplifting beautiful concert and thank you so much Chris for taking me and being there to enjoy the moment!
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Where Are You Going This Summer?
As the lazy days of summer are approaching, many of us have vacations on our mind. In 10 days, I'll be enjoying a week of sand and the sea in Oceanside, CA with my family. Even if the June gloom sets in, I won't mind wearing that sweatshirt over my bikini since I find clouds and cool weather to be a welcome relief from the incessant sun and heat this time of year in Tucson.
My 19-year-old step son will probably be surfing, my 15-year old daughter and her friend will probably giggling whenever cute boys walk by and my 13-year old son will be building imaginary battlefields and military fortresses out of sand. And what will my husband and I be doing? My husband will likely be reading a computer magazine and I will be boogy boarding or swimming in the ocean or lounging on my towel and typing away on my Alphasmart (Oh how I love that device. I can do "work" in the most pleasant of settings). And if you're wondering if whenever I'm in the water, I ever think of Jaws, the answer is "yes," but to me, life is just too short not to enjoy every possible moment in the ocean. I can almost hear the waves crashing against the sand now.
My 19-year-old step son will probably be surfing, my 15-year old daughter and her friend will probably giggling whenever cute boys walk by and my 13-year old son will be building imaginary battlefields and military fortresses out of sand. And what will my husband and I be doing? My husband will likely be reading a computer magazine and I will be boogy boarding or swimming in the ocean or lounging on my towel and typing away on my Alphasmart (Oh how I love that device. I can do "work" in the most pleasant of settings). And if you're wondering if whenever I'm in the water, I ever think of Jaws, the answer is "yes," but to me, life is just too short not to enjoy every possible moment in the ocean. I can almost hear the waves crashing against the sand now.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Costa Rican Adventure
If you love listening to the sounds of nature day and night (and occasionally interacting rather unexpectedly with nature), enjoy outdoor activities and don't need travertine floors, air conditioning and chocolates on the bed (which would melt in no time, anyway), the Osa Peninsula is the place for you. If you will scream bloody murder if you find a toad on your patio or a crab in your sink, perhaps you should try plan B (try Puntarenas and other "south Florida" parts of the country where there are high rise condos and nature has been pretty much silenced).
We stayed in Dos Brazos for three nights before spending five nights in Drake Bay (both are in the Osa Peninsula). Dos Brazos is in the heart of the rainforest, Drake is on the beach and also near rainforest. We went on nature hikes, went scuba diving at Cano Island, took a canopy tour as well as several kayaking adventures down the cayman infested Drake River. At Drake, scarlet macaws flew by and landed in almond trees. And swimming daily in the near-90 degree Pacific was pure heaven. In Dos Brazos, I walked around after dinner with my flashlight photographing all the different frogs and toads around, since the rains were bringing them out (and I have always been a frog fanatic). And other than getting bitten by fire ants and photographed naked by my husband while I was enjoying a waterfall, I thoroughly enjoyed hiking on the nearby trails which were very nicely maintained, well marked and adjacent to the Corcovado National Park.
What I love most about travel is the unexpected surprises. We didn't expect it to take 10 hours to drive 200 miles, for example (or to be driving on sinuous mountain roads through pouring rain, dense fog, and across rivers and over bridges where the planks rocked and creaked as we drove over them). Or to have a French Canadian man who seemed to have left his sound mind in Canada cook us a delicious sea bass dinner in an outdoor seaside kitchen that was so weathered, it looked like it hadn't been used in 10 years. Or to have crab legs wiggling out of the orifice on the side of the sink (we filled it with tissue the first night, then resigned ourselves to tapping on the sink after that to let the crab know he needed to retreat and not display his creepy hairy legs while we were brushing our teeth). Or to climb up platforms hundreds of feet high and slide down cables over the towering trees of the rainforest canopy when I'm terrified of heights (by the time I considered chickening out, it was too late). Or to crack open green coconuts we picked from trees to slurp the milk because we were so thirsty from our long walk on the beach. But all of these events really happened and along the way, we met so many amazing people like Steve, Ian and Dina who made our rainforest adventure so much fun! And naturally, now that I'm back, I'm pondering the next adventure...
We stayed in Dos Brazos for three nights before spending five nights in Drake Bay (both are in the Osa Peninsula). Dos Brazos is in the heart of the rainforest, Drake is on the beach and also near rainforest. We went on nature hikes, went scuba diving at Cano Island, took a canopy tour as well as several kayaking adventures down the cayman infested Drake River. At Drake, scarlet macaws flew by and landed in almond trees. And swimming daily in the near-90 degree Pacific was pure heaven. In Dos Brazos, I walked around after dinner with my flashlight photographing all the different frogs and toads around, since the rains were bringing them out (and I have always been a frog fanatic). And other than getting bitten by fire ants and photographed naked by my husband while I was enjoying a waterfall, I thoroughly enjoyed hiking on the nearby trails which were very nicely maintained, well marked and adjacent to the Corcovado National Park.
What I love most about travel is the unexpected surprises. We didn't expect it to take 10 hours to drive 200 miles, for example (or to be driving on sinuous mountain roads through pouring rain, dense fog, and across rivers and over bridges where the planks rocked and creaked as we drove over them). Or to have a French Canadian man who seemed to have left his sound mind in Canada cook us a delicious sea bass dinner in an outdoor seaside kitchen that was so weathered, it looked like it hadn't been used in 10 years. Or to have crab legs wiggling out of the orifice on the side of the sink (we filled it with tissue the first night, then resigned ourselves to tapping on the sink after that to let the crab know he needed to retreat and not display his creepy hairy legs while we were brushing our teeth). Or to climb up platforms hundreds of feet high and slide down cables over the towering trees of the rainforest canopy when I'm terrified of heights (by the time I considered chickening out, it was too late). Or to crack open green coconuts we picked from trees to slurp the milk because we were so thirsty from our long walk on the beach. But all of these events really happened and along the way, we met so many amazing people like Steve, Ian and Dina who made our rainforest adventure so much fun! And naturally, now that I'm back, I'm pondering the next adventure...
Monday, February 25, 2008
Thoughts on Writer's Block
OK, so now I can officially say I've had it, the dreaded writer's block. Days on end came and went and everything I wrote struck me as sheer garbage. What did I do when it happened (other than shriek and sob and jump up and down and stomp my feet)? And how did I escape (without the use of any illegal substances)? And do I believe there is any way I can keep from going back there again?Here's a few thoughts.
When I started to panic and get upset, it only got worse. Once I realized in my unemotional, uncreative state, I was in a great frame-of-mind to do work very methodically, I shrugged my shoulders, started reworking some sections of my memoir, wrote some fitness articles that required extensive research, started a blog, and constructed a plot outline for my new novel. I used this non-creative time productively (almost - actually, I started the blog to postpone doing actual work).
When thoughts and ideas started to resume, I veered off the road, hung up the phone or got out of bed no matter what time of night and started writing.
Nearly daily, I forced myself to write for 30 minutes and found that toward the end of this time, my writing became almost passable. This made me want to continue. When I stuck with it for more than one hour, I produced high quality work.
I read more books, listened to more books on CD, wrote up a list of cool words I wanted to work into my new novel. And this stimulated more desire to write. And if you listen to funny YA novels (such as the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants series), they are bound to lift your spirits and lead you to imagine that you are really not getting old at all.
I'm off and running with my new novel now. And I want to keep it that way. So how can I keep from returning to the land of the non-writing again? And what is my advice to others? Being the highly definitive person I am, I feel I must leave you with this answer - I'm not sure. I say find something or someone that inspires you and make the most of it while it lasts. Because wildly creative moments are amazing. They don't last forever but even when they end, another awaits... if you hang in there long enough. So good luck to you and now I'm back to Belizean dive boat accidents and deadly meteorite falls and a sizzling hot romance that lasts forever (if the protagonist prevails).
When I started to panic and get upset, it only got worse. Once I realized in my unemotional, uncreative state, I was in a great frame-of-mind to do work very methodically, I shrugged my shoulders, started reworking some sections of my memoir, wrote some fitness articles that required extensive research, started a blog, and constructed a plot outline for my new novel. I used this non-creative time productively (almost - actually, I started the blog to postpone doing actual work).
When thoughts and ideas started to resume, I veered off the road, hung up the phone or got out of bed no matter what time of night and started writing.
Nearly daily, I forced myself to write for 30 minutes and found that toward the end of this time, my writing became almost passable. This made me want to continue. When I stuck with it for more than one hour, I produced high quality work.
I read more books, listened to more books on CD, wrote up a list of cool words I wanted to work into my new novel. And this stimulated more desire to write. And if you listen to funny YA novels (such as the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants series), they are bound to lift your spirits and lead you to imagine that you are really not getting old at all.
I'm off and running with my new novel now. And I want to keep it that way. So how can I keep from returning to the land of the non-writing again? And what is my advice to others? Being the highly definitive person I am, I feel I must leave you with this answer - I'm not sure. I say find something or someone that inspires you and make the most of it while it lasts. Because wildly creative moments are amazing. They don't last forever but even when they end, another awaits... if you hang in there long enough. So good luck to you and now I'm back to Belizean dive boat accidents and deadly meteorite falls and a sizzling hot romance that lasts forever (if the protagonist prevails).
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Prague is My Favorite City Too
I briefly mentioned Prague in an earlier post and was thrilled to see another visitor mentioned that Prague was his/her favorite city! That inspired me to share my views on the city for those of you who have visited (Gribnerites, etc) and those of you still brave enough to go (with the exhange rate as lousy as it is right now).
In a nutshell, what I loved most about Prague was the architecture. Buildings hundreds of years old, Prague Castle with its turrets and walls and hundreds of windows, churches like St. Vitius with stained glass windows and stone pillars and Petrin Hill where you can see the Vltava River and the bridges that arch over it and the pale green minarets and red tile roof tops of every building in the city. Beyond that, I loved all the parks with the green trees (what they call trees in Tucson in my opinion are not really trees) and the way that in that city where every building is a true work of art, creating art, in whatever form, felt like a wonderful pursuit.
In a nutshell, what I loved most about Prague was the architecture. Buildings hundreds of years old, Prague Castle with its turrets and walls and hundreds of windows, churches like St. Vitius with stained glass windows and stone pillars and Petrin Hill where you can see the Vltava River and the bridges that arch over it and the pale green minarets and red tile roof tops of every building in the city. Beyond that, I loved all the parks with the green trees (what they call trees in Tucson in my opinion are not really trees) and the way that in that city where every building is a true work of art, creating art, in whatever form, felt like a wonderful pursuit.
Exercise and Writing Ideas
Is there a paragraph in your book driving you absolutely crazy? Is there something about your plot that just insn't quite working?
This stuff used to drive me crazy and I would fidget in my seat, get up and pace around, sit down again and moan and stomp my feet but still I would be stuck. The paragraph would still suck and the plot would still be completely lame. So what was I to do?
Eventually, I learned the easy way out. Exercise. Walking, running or swimming outside works every time for me. When I'm more relaxed, the ideas just flow which is so much easier than trying to force them out. Just today, my whole plot for my new novel came together while I was riding my bike. Often, I come up with article ideas or decide who to interview for an article in the middle of a workout. Another thing that works well is if I head out to exercise with one problem zone in mind - it might be a paragraph, a plot problem, a section of dialogue. And I try to see if I can solve it during my workout. 99 percent of the time, this works well. But I will confess to a few times when through my endorphin high, I thought what I was writing was a masterpiece, kind of the same way I occasionally do after when I jot something down after a glass or two of wine, only to later read it and think EEEWW. But hey nothing's perfect. But for me, the ideas come when I'm moving and elated and then later I do my fine tuning when my feet (and mind) are back on the ground.
This stuff used to drive me crazy and I would fidget in my seat, get up and pace around, sit down again and moan and stomp my feet but still I would be stuck. The paragraph would still suck and the plot would still be completely lame. So what was I to do?
Eventually, I learned the easy way out. Exercise. Walking, running or swimming outside works every time for me. When I'm more relaxed, the ideas just flow which is so much easier than trying to force them out. Just today, my whole plot for my new novel came together while I was riding my bike. Often, I come up with article ideas or decide who to interview for an article in the middle of a workout. Another thing that works well is if I head out to exercise with one problem zone in mind - it might be a paragraph, a plot problem, a section of dialogue. And I try to see if I can solve it during my workout. 99 percent of the time, this works well. But I will confess to a few times when through my endorphin high, I thought what I was writing was a masterpiece, kind of the same way I occasionally do after when I jot something down after a glass or two of wine, only to later read it and think EEEWW. But hey nothing's perfect. But for me, the ideas come when I'm moving and elated and then later I do my fine tuning when my feet (and mind) are back on the ground.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
It's Not Too Late
For those of you gutsy enough to post the first page of your manuscript out there to be judged by an agent (and possibly commented on by other readers), check out Nathan Bransford's blog at
http://nathanbransford.blogspot.com/ and then click on the Surprisingly Essential First Page Challenge to enter this contest (which closes sometime around 5 PM Pacific time on Wednesday, January 30th). Last time I checked, there were more than 400 entries. Apparently Nathan doesn't plan to sleep much this week.
http://nathanbransford.blogspot.com/ and then click on the Surprisingly Essential First Page Challenge to enter this contest (which closes sometime around 5 PM Pacific time on Wednesday, January 30th). Last time I checked, there were more than 400 entries. Apparently Nathan doesn't plan to sleep much this week.
Favorite Travel Books
I love to travel, so naturally I love to read books set in exotic settings that lure me into going there. Having lived in Peru for two years, I'm drawn to stories where people not only travel, but learn to understand countries and their people. One of my favorites is Jamie Zeppa's Beyond the Earth and Sky; a Canadian teacher's adventurous story of her journey to Bhutan to teach primary students. She describes the scenes so vividly, as I was reading, I felt like I was actually standing there. And much of the country sounds so pristine and beautiful - there are so few places like this left in the world and those are the places I love the most. I have yet to travel there, but Bhutan is number one on my list.
A humorous and meditative travel memoir I enjoyed was Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. You will probably laugh your self silly and in parts think "this is not for me." When it comes to the latter, I found myself hyperventilating when Gilbert described meditating for three hours in a temple in the blistering heat of India, and not moving a single muscle. Any of you who know me realize I have to exercise for hours just to sit still long enough to write!
For those of you who might find Bhutan too remote for your taste, I'm now reading River Town by Peter Hessler, a travel memoir about China, a country that strikes me as way too industrial and polluted for my off-the-beaten path taste. But I'm kind of an outdoor girl, not much of a city goer. Except for Prague, though, which is one of my new favorite places. But that's another story altogether. Anyway, Hessler taught English and American literature in Fuling in 1996 and he does an excellent job of engrossing the reader in his many plights; from teaching students so brainwashed by communist propaganda they can barely think for themselves (otherwise they probably wouldn't go along with that whole displacing millions of people to build a dam would they?), to mastering a complex language, a near prerequisite for an expatriate to feel established in a foreign community.
A humorous and meditative travel memoir I enjoyed was Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. You will probably laugh your self silly and in parts think "this is not for me." When it comes to the latter, I found myself hyperventilating when Gilbert described meditating for three hours in a temple in the blistering heat of India, and not moving a single muscle. Any of you who know me realize I have to exercise for hours just to sit still long enough to write!
For those of you who might find Bhutan too remote for your taste, I'm now reading River Town by Peter Hessler, a travel memoir about China, a country that strikes me as way too industrial and polluted for my off-the-beaten path taste. But I'm kind of an outdoor girl, not much of a city goer. Except for Prague, though, which is one of my new favorite places. But that's another story altogether. Anyway, Hessler taught English and American literature in Fuling in 1996 and he does an excellent job of engrossing the reader in his many plights; from teaching students so brainwashed by communist propaganda they can barely think for themselves (otherwise they probably wouldn't go along with that whole displacing millions of people to build a dam would they?), to mastering a complex language, a near prerequisite for an expatriate to feel established in a foreign community.
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