I Love Running (No, Really.)

I've been doing this whole "running" thing for just over a year now. If you follow this silly little blog (or know me at all, jeez) you know how it all started. A friend posted on The Facebook about starting C25K (Couch to 5K) and the rest is basically history. We virtually trained together and ended up running our first 5K together, too. And I blogged about it, because I do that.

Anyways, after a year of running I've got a few milestones under my dry-fit spandex pants (did you think I was going to say belt?) and I'm pretty happy with them. So far I've ran six 5Ks, one 10K, and have signed up for my first half marathon in January 2015.

Yesterday, while I was running the Star Spangled 5K and feeling dehydrated and gross at 8:00AM, I just couldn't help but think how much I truly loved running. It's funny to say that, right? Like, I'm not a great runner, but I like it. (I feel the same way about writing, to be honest. I'm not great at it, but it's fun so I do it.) I'm not fast, I don't see myself winning any medals or ribbons, but I cross the finish line to all my races and that's really all the matters. I mean, if you recall from my previous post about running cross country my junior year of high school you would remember me being last in all my races, but always finishing them. (Funny story: my coach once made me run in the JV race even though I was a junior. Uncool.)

But, yeah, I love running. And, like I do, I'm going to tell you why.

Therapy. There's this saying or internet meme going around that says "Running is cheaper than therapy". Ain't that the truth, amirite? When I've had a hard day in my classroom, or a bad day in general, running is so good at making me forget. How can you think about other things when all you're doing is focusing on putting one foot in front of the other? Why be stressed when you can listen to your favorite song and check out the scenery of a long wrong?

There's always visuals here. 

Health. I really feel like I'm at my healthiest since I've started running. A couple of years ago I did Weight Watchers and have successfully kept the weight off, but I feel that running has been a big help to that. Running is my excuse to eat, let's say, whatever I want. Like, I can eat that entire bag of chips because I'm going running later. (This is what I call carb-loading, pay no attention to me.) When I run I feel less guilt about whatever it was that I might have eaten or drank before, because I sweat it all out, right? This is what I tell myself okay? Also, I have nice calves now.

Camaraderie. (Or Friendship, if you don't like big words.) When I started running I realized what a huge community there was! Not only through online blogs or social media accounts (my favorite is Scoot A Doot because I love those ladies), but even in my own school, church, and circle of friends. Of course, my circle of friends is mainly people from school and church, so...

It's super cool when you find someone else who runs and who wants to talk about it or ask your for advice. (Also: you probably shouldn't ask a noob like me for advice.) During our 10K training (I use this term loosely) my best running buddy and I had people who wanted to run with us. We were pretty nervous because we tend to be slow, hence the running together, but it turned out to be a lot of fun. And, even with our lousy training schedule, we managed to finish our first 10K. 

Yay! (Don't sue me for using your picture, okay?) 

Teamwork. Okay, I know running isn't a team sport, but sometimes it feels like it is. Most of my races have been done with a friend and I can't tell you how much it helps to have someone there to help you set the pace and keep you going. My favorite thing from yesterday's race was watching those super fast runners who finished first come back through those of us who were still running (I told you I was slow, okay?). Whether they were cheering us on, or giving a thumbs-up, or even running next to others through the finish line- they cared. It's awesome crossing the finish line after any kind of race because people are waiting for you, they're cheering you on, and they just don't care how slow you are because you finished (so there, high school cross country coach). 

Running is cool and I had a moment yesterday when I just felt like telling people about it, so there you have it. Like I said, I'm not winning any races any time soon, but at least I'll be finishing them. 

Happy running. (Or not.) 

Pardon Me While I Fangirl

My last post was about how I don't know how to "act my age". This post is going to prove that point. It's going to prove it so good.

This weekend I finally got to visit The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Islands of Adventure. Sure, to a lot of people it's just a theme park with a cool castle and a couple of rides and a delicious Butterbeer drink. But to others (me) it's literature come to life. It is, almost literally, magic.

Let me give you a little history about my love affair with Mr. Potter. My younger sister was interested in the movies when she was a kid but I didn't really see what the big deal was at the time. Today (June 26th, 2014) marks the 17th anniversary of the release of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's (Sorcerer's to Americans) Stone. So, seventeen years ago I was in high school and the extent of my reading was either the required lists in my English class or some sort of trashy romance novel.

It wasn't until the third movie came out in 2004 and I took my sister to see it that I actually became interested in the series. It happened for a very specific reason that I remember so very clearly: I needed to know more. I even borrowed the first book from one of my classmates even though I'm pretty sure she hated me. There are so many things that were left unanswered for me in that two hours that I absolutely had to find them out as soon as possible. See, movies aren't always all they're cracked up to be. ;) 

I know there are people who don't like to read and there are people who definitely don't like to read children's fantasy books, but all I know is that the book is always better than the movie. This is something that the Harry Potter series has taught me. It's also taught me patience, though I consider myself lucky enough to not have started the journey with Mr. Potter until after what I can only imagine was a torturous three year wait between Book 4 and Book 5.

So, in the ten years since I've become a Potterhead I have been to two midnight book releases and five midnight movie openings. One thing I hadn't done? GO TO THE WIZARDING WORLD OF HARRY POTTER WHEN IT OPENED IN 2010.

Until now:

"Yep, I'm home."

I can't really explain what it's like to see this place without waxing poetic about it, okay? I just know that I got a little emotional. Now, for a non-Potterhead (ie: normal person) that probably sounds weird. However, if you've read any of my other posts you know that I'm weird and you are either a) also weird, b) okay with my weirdness, or c) indifferent and like when I say stupid things. Like I said before, this park is literature come to life. Not only that, it's one of my favorite books of all time come to life. And, guys, it's amazing.

The details that are put into the stores and rides and the castle. This place is everything I hoped it would be and more. Even with the hundreds of people (tourists) milling about the little town of Hogsmeade it was an experience to remember. (So much so that we went back after spending a day at Universal Studios BECAUSE DIAGON ALLEY ISN'T OPEN YET.)

Pretty impressive. 

Anyways, the whole visit really was like magic and even though phase two isn't open at Universal Studios yet, they do offer you a sneak peek of the outside streets and some of the London buildings. 

King's Cross Station

The Knight Bus (The conductor looks just like Stan Shunpike.)

Outside buildings, including Grimmauld Place at the end.

If you (Potterheads) have seen any of the photos from Diagon Alley, you know this is pretty much nothing. But it was so exciting to catch a little glimpse of it even though it is apparently very tightly under lock and key. Universal workers said that they haven't seen any of it either, so it must be good. Oh, and don't try to jump the fence. They don't like when you do that. 

She was a good sport. 

That was my Wizarding World of Harry Potter experience and it was awesome. Nothing too embarrassing happened. I even survived riding Dragon Challenge solo because my family is a bunch of chickens. Well, nothing embarrassing happened until I met Captain America... 

Funny story for you okay? You know I love superheroes. Captain America is probably my favorite. (Okay he is. And okay it probably has something to do with the beauty that is Chris Evans. I can't help it, I like pretty things.Oh, and FREEDOM.) So here's what happened: 

My sister loves Wolverine and while we're hanging out in the Marvel Superhero Island the X-Men characters are out taking pictures. Now, when I went to Disney as a kid this was the coolest thing ever. I mean, those people are practically famous, right? Here I am at the ripe old age of thirty-one and I just don't care that much. (Can you sense the foreshadowing here?) So, Sarah is super excited to get her picture taken with Wolverine and I'm joking on her about it but she doesn't care 'cause the guy's pretty cute and nice so it's okay. I'm not sure what I was expecting in this part of the park since Disney owns Marvel and other things that I don't know a lot about, but I didn't think they would have any other heroes there. 

So. We're leaving to go on a ride and I'd turned around to say something to my mother and when I faced forward again there he was. Okay, I know he's just a dude in a suit. I KNOW. However, when some dude in a suit with a shield looking like your favorite superhero just appears right in front of you, sometimes you forgot how to human. That's not a typo, I forgot to how to human. As in: what are words? (Did I mention he was tall?) So, my mother jumped in (she could talk to a brick wall, for real) shook his hand and told him to shake mine, which he did and then he walked away. (He had nice eyes, too.)

How'd I get the picture, you ask? Oh, that's because I may have kind of stalked Captain America just a little bit. Of course, in true Captain America fashion he a) remembered me b) thanked me for coming to see him c) asked me if I wanted to be protected or hold the shield. 

After that I had to put up with a lot of crap from my sister because, yeah, they're just guys in suits taking pictures with gross, sweaty, weird people all day. I deserved it, though. To each fangirl her own, after all.

Some of us are just weirder than others.

That's it in a nutshell. I don't really know if this post had a point except for me to be excited about something and tell you an embarrassing story. I don't really mind that much, though. Laughter is the best medicine, in my book. Also, if you can't laugh at yourself then you suck, okay? 

But really, I don't think anyone is ever too old to experience magic. Maybe it's in a book or a theme park or a dude in a suit. Go have some fun or something and then tell me about it, because I love fun. 

XOXO

Act Your Age

So, Friday is my birthday.

It's not a milestone of a birthday and I'm not that upset about it. It will just be a change for me, a new era, if you will. Friday I turn thirty-one. Friday I will no longer be "thirty, flirty, and thriving. Friday will mean I am officially in my thirties.

This is okay. I can handle it. For one: sometimes I think I look like a twelve-year-old boy. I think it's my hair and my love of silly t-shirts. I'm okay with that. Just yesterday I was complimented by the cashier at Total Wine when I showed her my ID she said "Wow, I didn't think you were that old". Thank you, cashier who was probably barely old enough to sell me the six tiny bottles of vodka I needed to make my Cosmo Pops (recipe here). That's the kind of thing that doesn't make getting old seem so bad.

Of course, there are things, like an article shaming people for reading Young Adult novels (how rude) that make me feel guilty for getting older. Yeah, guilty for reading and enjoying what I read. (I do what I want, lady.)

Here's the thing: I don't act old because I don't feel old. Yeah, sometimes my joints hurt, I need more sleep than I used to, and I don't party the same way...but I've got a young heart, you see. Just last night at praise band rehearsal we were talking about age and one of my friends said to the other (not to me) "I'd never guess you were that old because you don't act your age". It's a compliment, if you ask me, when someone says that. But at the same time, how am I supposed to act at my age?

How does anyone know when we're all so damn different?

Two of my favorite television shows are Friends and How I Met Your Mother. Both of these shows are about thirty-somethings living in New York City. It showcases all their relationships, their job struggles, and their extra-curricular activities. In Friends the majority of the "hanging out" happens in a Central Perk, the coffee shop. Where as in HIMYM they are always at McClaren's, the bar downstairs.

If I based my "acting my age" on these two shows that people in my generation actually grew up with I'd split my time between being totally wasted and too strung out on caffeine to function!

When my mother was my age she was looking to have her second child and I was ten years old. When my Mema was my age she had just had my mother, her fourth daughter! Here I am going to be thirty-one and contemplating which book I'm going to read next or which television show I'm going to binge on this week.

I can't act my age, because I don't know how. I don't know how my age is supposed to act! Wine tastings? Art galleries? Silent movies? (Snoozefest 2014 if you ask me. I'll be going to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter for my birthday!)

All I know is how to be me.

My recent binge on Veronica Mars made me feel this was a necessity.

The me I am likes to read Young Adult novels and is not ashamed of it, no matter what that rude woman says. (I read all kinds of books, not just YA, thankyouverymuch.) The me I am likes to be interested in things wholeheartedly and not half-ass things. The me I am likes superhero movies over male stripper movies and that is just fine with me. The me I am loves her job, family, friends, church, cat, books, etc...

The me I am will be enjoying life in my thirties with people of all ages, who help keep me grounded and make me feel young, but most of all make me smile.

I hope you don't "act your age", either.

What I Want My Students to Know

The end of the year is upon us, as I stated in my last post. At this point there are two half days left. Not even a full day to spend with my precious little babies. Next Wednesday they'll leave the nest of Room 210 and will be big ol' third graders, embarking into an unknown world of new standards and state exams and all the stress that comes with it.

And me, well I'll enjoy my ten weeks of summer vacation, duh.

Actually, I'll miss them a lot. There's something that happens to children between second and third grade. It's almost as if they sense that things are going to change for them. Their attitudes change to accommodate the rigor and work of the new things they are going to face in the upcoming year. It's probably good for them, but it makes me sad and it makes me realize just how much I love the grade level I teach.

Regardless of what age students are, however, I feel there are some things that they really, really need to know.

Here's a little list of what I hope my students know by next Wednesday.

1. You are safe. School is a place that children should always, always feel safe. Safe from bullies or sadness or hunger. Safe from abuse or people that don't value them. I want my students to know that they are safe, no matter what.

2. You are smart. Whatever else someone might tell you: they are wrong. You are smart. You may not be as smart as the kid sitting next to you, but I bet there are things that you know about that other people don't. Maybe you're smart about animals, books, video games, or plants (yeah, really). Being smart happens in all kinds of different ways because we are all very different. And you know what? That's okay.

4. You are special. Everyone is unique in their own way. Each child is someone's whole world, and we get to spend just a little bit of time with them each day. We are entrusted with something that another person loves more than anything else, and that makes teachers important.

5. You aren't that special. You might be someone's whole world, but you aren't the only person in it. If you treat people like you're better than them then you will lose them. It's very, very simple. We might all be different and unique, but we are also all equals.

6. You make a difference. Just by being in the world someone's life is better. Maybe it's mine, or your parents, or a person you haven't even met yet. You have the opportunity to be anything and anyone you want. I hope you seize that opportunity and, most of all, make me proud. ;)

7. I love you. You get on my every last nerve and drive me absolutely bonkers but I have grown to love you in 180 sometimes very long days. I love you because you are smart and special and are going to change the world one day. I know that because each and every year they change me.

Everything I've learned, I've learned from George Feeny. 

Teachers Be Like...

I love the beginning of the year. Sure, it's sad to say goodbye to summer. Goodbye to books, my couch, and lounging around at the pool all day. Hello to alarms, drinking copious amounts of coffee, and lots and lots of paperwork. The beginning of the year is still so magical. New kids, new clothes, new supplies. It's like Christmas for me. (I really love new crayons. Crayola only, kthnx.)

The end of the year, contrary to popular belief, is not my favorite. Here are a few reasons why:

Beginning of the year: Supplies are plentiful! I have so many supplies I'm practically giving them away. You need tissues? I've got you covered. Glue sticks? Take mine! What? You need paper? Here, what's mine is yours!

End of the year: If the Hunger Games were real they would take place in my classroom and it would be a fight to the death over the last glue stick. Or the pencil with *gasp* the eraser still attached to it. Seriously, why do you pull the erasers off, kids? You're ridiculous. The last Expo marker. These things really happen, okay? I just can't figure out how. How did we go from "You need to keep at least three pencils in your box!" to "You'd better get that one up off the floor if you plan on writing today, pal", it just happens.

"That glue stick is mine, Peeta!" 

Kids, man.

Beginning of the year: Sleep. I love sleep. At the beginning of the year I try my best to go to bed at a decent hour and be on time for work. It's important for a teacher to feel refreshed when she has to deal with hellions students eight hours a day and to be prepared for the day ahead.

End of the year: Now, not only is it difficult to fall asleep, it's hard to get up, too. Like, I have so much to do but instead of grading papers I'm staying up reading because reading is always my top priority. (Always.) It's a vicious cycle, y'all. Go to bed late, get up late, traffic...and of course: coffee.

Beginning of the year: Oh, one cup will do.

End of the year: Can you overdose on coffee?

One cup is never enough. 

Beginning of the year: Always look your best! Shower everyday! Wear makeup! (Kids like it when they think you're pretty.)

End of the year: Nope. 

What? Is there something on my face? 

These things are partly true, because the end of the year is stressful and there are a lot of things going on in everyone's heads. I mean, hopefully. What's killing me the most of how much my kids get me, how I get them, and how I'm really, actually, totally going to miss them next year. They are quirky and smart and adorable. They are a thorn in my side and a piece of my cold, cold heart. (Kidding, it's warm.) It is taking all I have to be my best for the next couple of weeks, just for them. Because they are worth it. This has been my best year, Lucky Number Seven, and I'm sad it's over.

Finish strong, right?

My favorite version of "Eye of the Tiger". 

Nine days and counting, guys.

Kids. Are. Awesome.

Teaching is hard. Yeah, I’ve said that a million times (hyperbole) in these little posts but sometimes even I forget how true it is. There are so many things that we have to do for the job that sometimes we forget what the job is about: kids.

Lately things have been a whirlwind of testing, meetings, observations, and paperwork. Those things don’t matter, though. Not really. Okay, they matter in terms of staying organized, keeping policy, being prepared, and, of course, doing your job.

I love kids. I love them in a completely non-creepy-oh-they’re-so-cute kind of way, all right? Of course, just because you like kids doesn’t mean you should become a teacher. You become a teacher because you like kids, learning, and being poor. (HAHAHAHA!)

I’m mostly kidding, I do that a lot. However, I do feel (and know) that there is more to teaching than just loving kids. Teaching is a calling. Teaching is not something to be taken lightly. Those who can’t, do not teach. But that calling, that need to make a difference, to continue your own learning every single day…that is fueled by the kids.

Kids. Are. Awesome.

They are tiny little sponges soaking up the knowledge that you have to give them. And, hopefully, you’ve got some. Kids are amazing, resilient little creatures that give you their heart and soul.

Yeah, you. Kids are the most honest things in all the world. Not only do they tell you everything that is wrong about you, but they tell you what’s wrong with them. Sure, it’s not always in a language you understand, but if it were would teaching be so easy?

Oh, hell no.

The ones that need love the most show us in the most unloving ways, right? I can’t tell you how true this is. (Literally, I can’t tell you because I’m sure it’s not allowed or something.) I’ve seen, heard, and lived through so many situations that are absolutely heartbreaking. Kids these days go through things that I could never dream of or wish on my worst enemy (okay, maybe this one person…), but they make it through. They make it through because of people who care. People (hopefully) like teachers.

Teaching is the best job. It’s the best and the hardest, because being a superhero is hard! Our capes are nametags and Expo marker smudges and leftover Peeps in plastic baggies because a kid really likes you. (True story.)

We have to wear our hearts on our sleeves and put on our mean faces and loud voices sometimes, but that’s just how it is! That’s the beauty of teaching. You get to be the good guy and the bad guy! The superhero and the villian! Captain America and the Winter Soldier!

Have you seen this yet? You should. And take me with you.

I might complain about my job: the long hours, the grading, the chatty kiddos…but I love it. There is not one thing in the world I would rather be doing. Okay, unless you read my Facebook status this morning about missing my couch and my books, WHATEVER.

I love my job, and I hope you do, too. I hope you love your kids even when you’ve got on your angry face, even when you’re using your loud voice, even when you’re up to your eyeballs in papers to grade. Because if you love them through all of that, it makes a difference.

You make a difference.

And I like you.

Here’s a fun little kid tidbit from last week:

Boy to girl sitting being him: “Hey, stay away from my butt. I just farted.”

I hope they always make you smile. 

Where's My Spoiler Alert?

Did you ever read a book or see a movie and wish that someone would have told you the “big surprise” about it, or is that just me? I don’t like to be surprised. It's something that I've dealt with since I was a small child, and I just don't like it. I don't like things jumping out at me, I don't like not knowing the end of something, or whats' going to happen. I just don't like it. It takes almost every fiber of my being not to read the end of books when I get a new one. I’m guilty of googling spoilers to movies (sometimes in the theaters) just so I’m not surprised. I don’t like surprises, okay?

Some things can’t be googled, though. Some things you have to find out for yourself, or even wish that someone would clue you in. For example: why doesn’t anyone warn you about what happens when you turn thirty? It is really like that adorable Jennifer Garner movie 13 Going on 30?

Spoiler alert: IT’S NOT.

Here’s why:

Things start to hurt. By “things” I mean body parts. And by “body parts” I mean Hey, did my knees always make that noise when I got out of bed? Guess what? No, no they didn’t. I’m pretty sure that thirty is the age in which your body has had enough and starts to deteriorate. Back aches, muscle pains, head aches, heartburn. I mean, honestly. You’ve gone thirty years in the same body and it’s (hopefully) got all of its originally parts and now it starts to fall apart? How lame.

You literally lose your mind. When I turned thirty I started a blog, started running, and got a tattoo. Maybe that’s not as crazy as quitting your job and moving to some far off place to start a brand new life, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about it! To me, thirty is a weird age. You’re not old enough to start worrying about the big stuff and you’re not young enough to get all wild and crazy without looking like a fool. So, what happens? You can’t decide what you want to do and lose your damn mind.

Hangovers. Look. I partied a lot in my younger days. I could hang with the best of them. There were nights when I was pretty sure my liver would have physically removed itself from my body to be free of me (too much?), but now that I’m old? Psssh. First of all, I’m too tired to drink, let alone “party”. And, second of all, when I do “party” it takes days, days to recover. (Please note that when I say “party” I mean have two beers and go to bed after 10PM.)  I used to just be able to grab a McDonald’s breakfast sandwich and chug a Dr. Pepper and all would be just fine. These days there are things that even bacon can’t cure and that scares me.

I’m very tired. Maybe it’s just because I work a lot. Or maybe it’s the fact that turning thirty means you need more sleep than a person that’s…twenty-nine. I swear I didn’t need this much sleep when I was just a wee twenty-nine year old. (Please note: I also do not have children and, yes, I’m complaining about sleep. It’s my blog and I do what I want to.)

Everything you liked you now hate. I’ve basically cleaned out my closet a million times since I’ve turned thirty. I clean out my iTunes, my DVD collection, my classroom, my books (precioussssss). I’m older. More sophisticated. Less Old Navy t-shirts, more LOFT t-shirts! Less boybands, more bands with men who play instruments (BANJOS)! Less books about magical crap…no, I still like that. ;)

Just kidding, I still like most of this stuff. I always regret a clean out. Earlier this week I attempted to clean out my “ironic t-shirt collection”. I ended up getting rid of four shirts. Then I went back into the donation bag and took two of them back. Look, the majority of my shirts are either Harry Potter or Captain America themed and they are awesome. So, not all of your tastes change.

Save the drama for your llama. I’m thirty and I’m over it.

You are, very simply, more awesome. Thirty, flirty, and thriving, right? That’s what people kept telling when I was going through my turning thirty depression. But, really, thirty is pretty cool. You’re thirty years wiser. Thirty years more sturdy. Thirty years of experience for a colleague or friend or kid (if you’ve procreated by the time you hit thirty). Thirty years more awesome.

It’s taken me a while to come to grips with how awesome thirty is, but I kind of like it. Of course, in a few short months I’ll be saying goodbye to thirty. I’ll no longer just be thirty. I’ll be in my thirties.

I probably will lose my mind then. 

PS - I turned thirty a while ago. Another thing? THIRTY MAKES YOU FORGET THINGS.