In My Secret Life...

I can run 5 minute miles.

I write for Runner's World.

I have perfect classroom management.

I'm a spy.

And a bounty hunter.

And a travel writer.

Oh, and a food critic.

And I always look this happy when I run:

Thanks, Megan Guerrero Photography for taking a good shot and keeping my thunder thighs under wraps!

New Season, New Look, New 'Tude

I felt my blog needed an attitude change... the grayish-green background with small font was starting to depress me. So since it's almost fall, and fall is my favorite, I gave it new school year/fall face lift. I love running in San Diego's fall weather because I can easily shift from the cool morning runs of summer to the cool evening runs of fall with little temperature shift or divergence from my weekly mileage. (With the exception of this first week of school...which is two hours away from being officially last week's first week of school.)

I'll soon be able to frequent my old friend, Lake Murray. It's still a bit too warm at 3:00 in the afternoon for a 6 miler in east county, but give it a couple weeks and we'll be picking up right where we left off last May.

I can feel the season starting to shift ever so slightly. It's harder to see in Southern California, than in other parts of the country, but it's noticeable in the produce section of the market, the flower selection at Trader Joe's, the sun leaving the day a bit sooner, and the cold smell in the air. I can smell the cold coming, can't you? (Again, I know cold should be written as "cold" because we're 70 degree San Diego...but it's all relative.)

Even though I won't see fall leaves around the city, I know that for the next couple months, I can find them here...and so can you. Maybe when winter comes, I'll pretend we have snow and do a mountain scene.

Speaking of mountains, I'm hiking Mount Whitney next Sunday. If all goes as planned, my friend and I will be summiting the tallest peak in the lower 48 in a 14 hour hike adventure. Got any tips? (FYI: We're over-prepared for it as far as safety goes, but if you have any tips that might make the 26 mile hike feel more like a 12 mile hike...I'd greatly appreciate it!)

Enjoy the last few days of the summer season.

My Summer Baby

While on a run with my friend Angie today (actually, we were in the car on our way to the run destination), I told her about how I consider summer vacations a form of post-child-bearing memory erasing. She had me elaborate on this idea and then told me to post it... so I'm going to do that now. Since I'm an English teacher I get the equivalent of a contact high when it comes to extended metaphors. I'm sure half the time my students leave class wondering why the hell I just talked for half and hour about how pulling quotes from a text is like running fartleks.

So here is my extended metaphor about being a high school English teacher in the Grossmont Union High School District. (I make that distinction because I have to believe that there are school districts out there that don't overcrowd classrooms and don't lie and cheat and steal from its employees... even if it's not true...I believe it exists somewhere. "And sometimes I believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast"--the Queen, from Alice in Wonderland)

My Summer Baby

I've heard mothers talk about how the pain and torture of labor is blocked from their minds as soon as they see their baby. The joy and love of that precious, squeaky little babe somehow makes the 12(+) hours of sweating, panting, screaming, pushing, swearing, ripping, pooing, and God-knows-what-else-they-don't-have-the-courage-to-talk-about, worth it...and not so bad. Granted, this memory-loss doesn't happen right away (for most). Those I've talked to say that after a few months when the stitches are out and the soreness is gone (just about the time her body is ready for another go-round) the mother believes having another baby is a good idea. And so she does...and the same torture is waiting for her in the delivery room. just. like. last time.

Teaching is similar to this process--especially for those of us who are not on the year-round system. The beginning of the school year is always a little rocky. We wake up in the morning with butterflies in our stomaches wondering what the year will bring. We tend to "glow" just a little with hope for the year of possibilities. Then, we find out what we're "having" and after about 3 or 4 weeks the excitement and wonder is over and the "morning sickness" kicks in.

After about two months, we reach a calm spell. Things are cookin' along... we've gotten used to one another, as mother and baby do, and we have our routines down. About halfway through the school year, things begin to get slightly uncomfortable... nothing too bad, just...not that fun anymore. We're changing every day at an alarming rate: stretched and pulled in directions we didn't foresee and didn't desire. Small things that at one time could be shrugged off now cause annoyance or occasional anger. But, with a proper exercise or meditation regimen the annoyance of overbearing in-laws (parent emails) or unresponsive husbands (lazy students) can be controlled.

Toward the end of our "pregnancy" the pain begins. Everything is too cramped--it feels like we're being crushed. It takes all our strength to push through to the end. Our nerves are shot to hell, our hands are cramping from all the papers, our brains are fried from trying to think of new ways to keep the end-of-year chaos controlled, and those slight annoyances now turn us into raging lunatics...why bother yelling? Just go straight to crying. But we push and breathe, push and breathe. (Some get the margarita epidurals flowing earlier and earlier in the day...)

And then, oooooooh sweet "and then", just as quickly as the pains came, they are gone. Summer has been born. Sweet, cooing, precious Summer is yours for the cuddling. We rock our baby Summers and love them and do anything for them and they are ours and we are theirs and the previous 9 months don't seem so bad anymore. In fact, about 60 days later, we almost miss our pregnancy and want to do it again... and so, toward the end of August, forgetting the labor that awaits, we "get busy."

The end.

I hope you have enjoyed this extended metaphor brought to you by one "glowing" teacher.

Found in Translation

I felt refreshed and clear of mind going into this first week back on campus. It could have been denial, or it could have been that I am reminded of my youth and the hopeful, nervous excitement that comes with a new school year. But, then I went to my first staff meeting yesterday (and another today) and was reminded of all the reasons why summer break is what keeps me in this profession...(even though I was told that if I ever felt that way I should stop teaching immediately...haha. yeah right like I'm giving up my summers now!?). I'm not going to go into it right now, but I am going to go to the gym later and try to work off some of my anger.

The other thing I'm going to do, is write the letter I wish I could send home to parents at the beginning of the school year. (The alternative is a venty, bitchy post about administrators and the terrible, terrible decisions being made that are veiled in "this is what's best for students" even though it's what's worst....ugh. I continue to be amazed by how little admin understands about students.) Anyway...

As I was revamping my course syllabi today, I was reminded of all my teacherly pet peeves that are soon to be ignited. I feel that if parents could learn how to interpret what their kids say about school at home, my pet peeves might be significantly, if not entirely, squashed.

So, this is to the all the parents out there:
When your child comes home and says the following, this is what he or she is really telling you...(note taking is encouraged here).

Scenario #1: The detention

Parent: I got a detention notice about you today. What's that about?
Student: I dunno. My teacher hates me.
Translation: I do know, I just don't want to admit to you that I was being an annoying attention monger today in class and refused to shut up when my teacher asked me to do so 80 times. I guess she got sick of asking me to behave properly and maturely and it probably has something to do with the fact that I've never been taught how to respect authority because look at how you let me talk to you, Bitch. That's right, I'm talking to you. Now go buy me a new video game.

Scenario #2: Truancy
Parent: I got a phone call from the attendance office at school today. They said you weren't in 6th period. Where were you?
Student: I was there. My teacher is dumb and prolly marked me absent.
Translation: We had a test today so I snuck off campus to get high and hangout at Burger King. And even though I promise you to ask my teacher about it tomorrow, I'm not going to because I just texted plans to get-it-on with Adrian from Bio class in the bathroom during 6th.

Scenario #3: Failing a Class
Parent: Why do you have an "F" in X Class?
Student: I dunno. My teacher hates me.
Translation: Mother, Father, it's a combination of issues here. But what it comes down to is I don't do my work because I don't do the reading at night because you're not checking up on me like you should. Furthermore, I don't ask for help from the teacher when I am confused because my classroom is overcrowded by about 20 kids and I don't want to look dumb in front of my peers, plus the new sweatshirt you bought me with the ipod adapter inside the hoodie strings makes it super easy for me to listen to music during class without the teacher noticing-- which only makes me more likely to not understand what is going on in class and in turn forget to write down the homework. Plus, how can I can get any work done when I have so many text messages to stay on top of?

Scenario #4: Mean Teacher
Parent: Why do you have a "U" in Citizenship in your X Class?
Student: Oh my gosh that teacher is soooooooo mean. He hates me.
Translation: I'm an obnoxious, disruptive, brat in that class and I hate him because he calls me out on my shit every day. I need to learn manners; please teach me how to speak to adults appropriately.


There are more scenarios, but I will save them for later because I have to get to the gym pronto. If you have a particular "teenage response" that you'd like translated for you, please submit it via email or the comment box below: I'd be more than happy to tell you what your teenager is really trying to say.

Mossy Trails

As promised, it is time for me to debrief my trip to Portland, Oregon with you. Trails, trails, trails. So many wonderful trails up there. I'm pretty sure that you're not allowed into the state if you don't like hiking because even in their most urban part of downtown, you can see the forest waiting only five miles up the the hill. I'm so jealous of the trees and moss they have up there. I want moss... real bad. But, I don't think it grows on Palm Trees.

I hiked every day and ate a lot of really good food (like fried cheese curds and pancake bbq), and I could talk about all that, but it'd just be too much. So, I'll share my discoverings during my run up Tabor Mountain. That makes me sound way hardcore... and maybe I am a little, but it was only 4 miles total and Tabor Mountain should probably be called Tabor Hill. In any case, it was fun discovering Portland on my own. (Wellllll, that's also a stretch because my friend Jamileh was with me, but neither one of us had ever been up the "mountain" and we're both from California. So. There's that.)

I'm a big ol' wuss when it comes to running in unknown places. I get self-conscious: like people can tell I don't know where I'm going and so that means they're going to steal me. (But, who would want to steal a sweaty runner?? Apparently some guy in South Park for one. see post below.) So even though Jamileh and I didn't really know where we were going, we had each other and that was enough to get me on the road at least. So often I forgo running altogether on vacation because of my high wuss factor--a personality trait that I know helps my mom sleep a little better at night. (e.g. Every time we're in New York I tell myself that I'm going to jog around Central Park, but then once I'm there I can't get up the nerve even though the running paths are well trafficked and safe.)

Back to Tabor. We got directions from a friend and found the base of the mountain (just a regular mountain in a regular neighborhood...so Portland). We chose a small dirt trail and began climbing up and up. We walked a little, we swatted bugs out of each other's hair, I squealed when I ran through a spider web (I really really hate spiders. A lot.), we stopped and admired the reservoir, ran into a drinking fountain and had some water, passed a few people--but not many--on the trail, observed banana slugs (seeeeeriously gross) and then somehow found our way back down. All the trails we took had some kind of color coded signs for them, but we weren't paying much attention and couldn't figure out which direction the signs were pointing. (That makes us sound stupider than we are....) This (for me at least) made the run more stressful and less fun-adventurey. I like adventure runs--as long as I know where I'm going and how many miles it will turn out to be. (e.g. running 20 miles is one thing. Doing it unintentionally is another.)

I wouldn't have run at all without someone with me, and it got me thinking... what would it take for me to feel safe on a run by myself in a foreign city? Other than studying maps, carrying pepper spray, and a backpack full of clothing and nourishments, I'm not sure how to make a run relaxing and non-stressful in an unknown place. Which is unfortunate, because jogging around a new place is a great way to site see.

Punchbowl Falls in Forest Park, Oregon:

Thank you great outdoors! You're pretty.