My Week in Instagram -- Week 8 (with Keane!!)

Even a crazy, hormone-filled, topsy-turvy week couldn't keep me from taking my daily Instagram pic(s). And of course, last night I had Keane in San Francisco, so there's a few pics from that adventure. The obligatory blog post about the gig will be along shortly.

In the mean time, here's my week, captured in trendily-filtered images taken with my iPhone.

Sunday:

On Sunday, I cleaned. This is my work space, all cleaned,
dusted, and organized.

Bella NEVER hangs out in my room, but on Sunday, I
guess she wanted to spend some time with Millie.

I took a pic of the musical that will be a huge focus in my
life at Petite School for the next few months.

Monday:

As I left for choir, I had to pull off the road and take this
picture. It does no justice for the gorgeous sunset over
the valley.

Tuesday:

Creativity in action--soon to be sent to a duck lady in
Michigan and then gifted to some random guys.

Wednesday:

Random shots around my bedroom.

Thursday:

On Thursday, I got this in the mail from my brother. It
made me smile.

I also got a new battery for my Mickey Mouse watch.
This was a gift for my 12th birthday. The lady at the
jewelry store said, "It's an antique!" Ayayay...

Thursday night was a hectic flurry of packing and getting
ready for a crazy, packed Friday of work and play.

Friday:

Waiting for BART in Oakland (that's the SF skyline).

Waiting for the doors to open.

We got our favorite spot.

Cali Swimmy was pleased to see Keane again.

Tom (singer) and Tim (keyboards) perform "We Might As
Well Be Strangers."

Random artsy back-lit shot.

From left to right: Jesse (bass), Tom (vocals), Richard
(drums), Tim (Keyboards). This is Keane.

Green Keane

Saturday:

Took the tiniest detour in Benecia today on the way home,
looking for a vista point. Got a bit lost, but found some
cool stuff.

Finally found the vista point, and this view of Mt. Diablo.

The Mothball Fleet

Old and New

Came home to this: Millie and the Kindergatos being all
cute and comfy.

Busy Bee

Tomorrow's the day!! I have a full day of teaching, but then it's off to Oakland to meet Summer at the BART station, then into the city to see Keane. I'm so excited.

Cali Swimmy is beside himself. He's safely tucked into a small bag, along with my camera (with fresh batteries), the tickets, and a few odds and ends.

My overnight bag is packed--I'll add a few toiletries in the morning after my shower, but I've got clothes for Saturday and pajamas for tomorrow night. My iPhone charger, my glasses, all that good stuff. I've got an outfit laid out for tomorrow that is work-appropriate but also gig-appropriate (skinny jeans, boots, pretty cardigan, adorable necklace).

I've packed tomorrow's lunch (I always do this on Thursday evening) and prepped tomorrow's smoothie. I've loaded my teaching stuff in the car, taken out some cash, filled the gas tank. Rosie Pro had an oil change on Wednesday and checked out as being in excellent health (for a ten-year-old car with 121,000 miles), so we're good to go.

Tomorrow will be a hectic, busy day. I always get up early on Fridays (no later than 5:15) and I'll be teaching pretty much non-stop from 8:00 to 2:30, with one 10-minute morning break and one 30-minute lunch break. At 2:30 I'll throw everything back in the car, and set off from the school--no going home, no passing Go, no collecting $200. Straight to Oakland it is. Summer and I plan to take the train into the city, get some dinner, then queue up for Keane at the Warfield.

It's going to be a great show, and a very late evening. On Saturday, I hope to drive back into SF for a bit, maybe down to Ocean Beach for some ocean therapy. I have to be home by early evening, however, because the 49ers are playing Green Bay in the playoffs and I have to tune in.

As crappy as I've been feeling the last week or so (though I have to say, today's been so much better), I am looking forward to rocking out to my favorite band, spending some time with a dear friend, visiting one of my favorite cities, and just enjoying my weekend. I have no expectations of meeting the guys, just a desire to dance and sing along all evening, enjoying the fact that Keane is here in California.

Counting Down

Yeah, so my hormones have still been kind of topsy-turvy this week. Monday, in particular, was rough. Instead of being the Ms. Hyde of last week, I was Weepy McCrybaby. Tuesday rolled around, and I went out for my morning run. I was feeling pretty good after a short but intense run, when I saw an ambulance and fire truck in front of someone's house as I walked home.

I do not know the people who live in the house in question, and I have no idea what was going on inside that house, but as I walked by, going to the opposite side of the street to stay out of the way and show a little respect, tears sprang to my eyes.

My behavior since Thursday has been so out-of-the-ordinary, so dramatically swinging back-and-forth between crying, being angry, being stressed, being happy, that I hardly know which way is up. Feeling empathy for a stranger in distress is perfectly logical. Crying at the sight of an ambulance is not.

When I got home, I talked to my parents a bit. Much as I tried to hide my distress these last several days, they've noticed it. I told them my Pill theory, they agreed. So I got on the phone to Planned Parenthood, and on Monday, I'm going in to talk to the nurse practitioner about different options. I cannot live like this.

Anyway, none of this has anything to do with the title of this blog post. What am I counting down for?

KEANE.

Woohoo!! Yep, Keane are playing in San Francisco on Friday night, and I'm so excited to hear them live again. I'm meeting Summer at the BART station in Oakland, and we'll ride in, get a spot of dinner, and enjoy the show. I can't tell you how great it's going to feel to listen to my favorite band play some of my favorite songs live as I dance and sing along. Downright therapeutic!

So roll on, Friday. Today has been much better (it helps that yesterday was pay day times two, making up for a snafu that happened, making me NOT get paid at the end of December as I was supposed to, which didn't exactly help my recent stress any) and I can see things getting brighter as I head towards the weekend. It's a busy weekend, with Keane, driving, some possible beach time on Saturday, a Sunday choir rehearsal, and the Niners being in the playoffs on Sunday evening.

Bring it on--I need some fun and toes-in-sand action!

Singing Fool

Jotted down on a piece of scrap paper during choir rehearsal on Monday night:

I used to think that being a musician meant always trying to be a star, a soloist. But there is no greater joy than being part of a grand, joyful sound made by a choir.

Truth.

Running Solo

When I started running, it was definitely a solitary activity. Plug the ole ear buds in, crank up the volume on the iPod, and set off alone to do my thing. It worked for me--and still works for me, actually. Running with others creates a situation where compromise is required. Someone is always going to have to speed up a little, or slow down a little. It's rare that two runners are exactly the same pace and able to stay together for a whole run.

But every once in a while, it is nice--and in my run club, I've had some great runs with another lady who runs at about the same pace as me. I joined the club because I wanted to improve as a runner, and figured that running with others would be a good way to motivate myself, to push my speed, and to get tips about how to be a better runner.

Unfortunately, it mostly hasn't been the case. While I've pushed up my mileage a little, it's only when this other lady is there, and unfortunately, her work schedule doesn't permit her to be there every week. So often, I find myself alone, as the faster runners sprint around the track and our de facto "coach" times them, shouts encouragement at them, and leaves me to "get more mileage." When I've asked for advice on form, I get vague answers, but he's never really watched me run or given me any feedback on my foot strike, or body position.

And in the last few weeks, I've noticed more and more that when numbers are light (the nasty weather, the holidays, etc.) I find myself driving over 15 miles to meet my running club, only to find that I've driven all that way to run circles around a track by myself, with very little interaction with the others because I'm simply not doing anything that is monumental to them. They routinely run several miles at a much faster pace than I'm capable of. My recent 31:37 best time in a 5K race is nothing to them--a quick smile and a patronizing pat on the head.

To me, it's a really big deal.

To be fair, there are a few people there who get it, who understand that every tiny accomplishment I reach is huge to me because I started at 220 pounds, as someone who could not run. And it's not that I need a standing ovation from the group just because I laced up my running shoes and showed up at a workout. I guess what I want is for the people who supposedly "run" the group, who act as coaches and board members, to show a little more interest in helping all runners improve, and not just for races, but for every day health and wellness. The Facebook page celebrates club members who recently ran the California International Marathon, but I can't even get a coach to run with me.

So I'm thinking it's time to move on--why pay $25 in dues when I end up spending far more in gas money just getting there each week? Why get up before dawn on Saturday to drive all the way down there and run by myself, when I could sleep a little later and run by myself here at home? I had hoped that doing something different would improve my running, but to be honest, running circles on a track is pretty boring...and the gas money I'll save getting there can go towards buying more running shoes.

Now, too, I've taken on a new venture in which I'll probably be teaching some private music lessons on Saturday mornings, making it impossible to get to the group workout anyway. Other club workouts are geared towards trails, keeping a faster group together.

So I'm back where I started--running my neighborhood by myself. I actually don't really mind--I have a small waist pouch I can keep my iPod in, and a fantastic playlist of songs that urge me forward. The neighborhood is hilly, so I have variation and challenges. Today, I tried a slightly new route for part of my run, and found I enjoyed finding a new place to add some mileage. The bottom line is, the more I run, the better I get at it.

Still, I'm disappointed to leave the run club behind a little--there are some very lovely people, and I cannot blame anyone there for my disappointment. Maybe I'll catch a workout now and again, as a non-member. And then again, maybe I'll be too busy pounding the pavement, pursuing that sub-30 5K I've set my sights on.

Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde

I wasn't sure I'd blog about this after alluding to it in my most recent "Week in Instagram" post, but this story was meant to be shared. So pardon me while I drive this car into the Land of Overshare; I promise I won't get too gory.

Actually, it's not really an overshare. I'm quite open about the fact that I take the birth control pill. I mean, I don't walk around telling everyone, but it's not something I actively hide or feel ashamed about, either. In the 14 years since I first started it as an 18-year-old, I've been unembarrassed to admit it--hormones are funky and different for everyone, and sometimes you just need some regulation, right?

Anyway, a little over a year ago, I wanted to get back on the Pill after a no-healthcare-induced hiatus, so off to my local Planned Parenthood I went for an exam and to answer the many questions that come with wanting to start any new medication. In all of my years with Kaiser, I always took a generic brand called Sprintec, but PP put me on Ortho Cyclen.

Because at that time I was still about 40 pounds overweight, my blood pressure was sometimes a bit high, so PP put me on a monitoring program where I come in every three months to get it checked before they give me my refill of pills. It's kind of a pain, but I appreciate them taking such great care of my overall health. However, we've had to switch up my pills a few times now because the Ortho Cyclen was causing me to sweat at night for those last few days before my period would start. It's not pretty waking up drenched in sweat at three o'clock in the morning, and it's certainly not comfortable, either. The nurse practitioner agreed, so I was given Ortho Tri-Cyclen.

This one was better; I still had some sweating at night in the days leading up to my period, but not as bad. Then, around Thanksgiving, a new problem presented itself: spotting. Ugh!!

In December, I mentioned this to the nurse and she agreed that this was not good--she looked at my chart and said, "Someone put you on the lowest estrogen dose! Heh. That means if you don't take it at exactly the same time every day, it loses its effectiveness."

Oy. I'd been sleeping in a lot over Thanksgiving, so that threw off the schedule a bit. We agreed that the next dose up, a slightly higher shot of estrogen, would be just the thing for me. I was given three months' worth, assurances that my blood pressure is firmly in the good zone (yay!!!), and sent on my merry way. A week or so later, I started this new round of Ortho Tri-Cyclen.

All of this back story leads up to about four days ago, when I found myself in a funk. I mean, a rotten, no-good, black-cloud-hovering-over-my-head funk of large proportions. I'm not exaggerating, I was feeling pretty much like the whole world could go to hell and I wouldn't mind.

I did the math, took a peek at my little pink pill container, and had that "Aha!" moment. I was a week out from my period and that, my friends, explains the bad mood. Good ole Pre-Menstrual Syndrome.

Thing is, I've always had PMS. Whether I'm on Sprintec, Ortho Cyclen, Ortho Tri-Cyclen, or no Pill at all, I have always had the same symptoms: crankiness, headaches, general lethargy and a distressing desire to gnaw on the walls because I'm constantly hungry. I'm the stereotype--moody, hungry, craving chocolate. What I'm not--usually--is a lunatic.

But Thursday rolled in, and I was mad at the whole world. Mom and Dad were so unreasonable, asking me to pick Mom up at the dentist's office. Gah! Now my day is all ruined, I won't get anything done. None of my friends could possibly understand how bad I was feeling, my blog was suddenly the stupidest thing ever, and if Millie had stuck her wet nose against my arm one more time while I was trying to type on the computer, I was going to have a hissy fit. To top it all off, I gained about twenty pounds in bloat and...oh, crap, a pimple? Really, universe?

In other words, I'd reverted to thirteen-year-old Meg. I wasn't liking myself too much.

It all came to a head on Friday, when I went to the gym for a good workout.

I was still feeling tired and cranky, but the gym usually cheers me up. The kids who work the front desk always greet me with a smile, and often by name. I waved and got a cheery "Good morning!" from Matt the Reasonable. The locker room was quiet for a change.

Then it all went to hell.

I set off looking for a foam roller; I could only find one, and it was being used by a man who was doing sit-ups on an exercise ball. He was using the roller as a foot rest.

A foot rest.

On a normal day, I'd take it in stride and wait, but Friday was hardly normal. I started with polite inquiry. "Excuse me, are you almost done with the foam roller?"

"Oh, I've got another set to do, and I really need it."

I think steam started coming out of my ears. "But it's for massaging muscles."

"I need it for my feet." He was smiling. I was not.

I gave him a look, then mumbled, "It's not a foot rest."

So I stood there and waited, crossing my arms and rolling my eyes. Normally I'd just wander off and find something else to do, but this moron was getting in my way. My quads were tight and he was using the only damned foam roller for a foot rest?!

After about two minutes, I huffed out the best dramatic teenager sigh I could muster, rolled my eyes again, and muttered just loud enough for the guy to hear, "Fine, I guess I just won't foam roll today. So much for running sprints. Ugh!" before turning on my heel and stomping away with tears springing to my eyes.

Okay, people, let's just stop for a sec. I've been told I'm fiery, but I am not an asshole.

By the time I got to the cardio equipment, I was fighting to keep from crying, still feeling irrationally angry over a cylindrical piece of foam, and also feeling like a ginormous loser for being so emotional about...foam.

As I got started on the Stair Master, I realized that something was not quite normal. As I said, I've always had PMS symptoms, but I have never been so irrational and unreasonable as I was on Thursday and Friday. The back-and-forth between wanting to cry, getting angry over stuff that normally does not bother me, and feeling just fine was like riding a roller coaster--motion sickness was starting to settle in.

The good news is, I'm feeling more even-keeled now. I spent today cleaning my room, organizing my work space, and getting a lot of busy work finished, which makes me feel more in control of my universe. I'm 90% sure that my moodiness of the last few days is entirely related to being on a new type of pill (I'd also dearly love to not feel this bloated--it's physically uncomfortable). We'll see how next month goes, but chances are I'm going to find myself back and Planned Parenthood in two months, begging for yet another new type of birth control pill.

Because honestly, the world doesn't need Meg Hyde having a meltdown in the gym.

The Glorious Golden Gate

The Golden Gate Bridge, over the last decade or so, has emerged as my favorite California landmark. For some people, it's the Hollywood sign, or Santa Monica Pier, perhaps. For me, it's that "industrial orange" bridge that connects San Francisco to Marin County. I don't know what it is that I love so much...but there is something about it that simply makes me feel like I'm home.

Dad sent me a link to a story about the recent 75th Anniversary of the Golden Gate Bridge, featuring pictures of its construction and its life as a California icon.

In July, when I tagged along on a field trip to San Francisco with 60 Chinese exchange students, I was interested to see how they would react to my favorite American city. As we cruised down Interstate 80 towards the Bay Bridge, the teachers started pointing out, in the distance, that most famous orange structure. Our students didn't know a lot about San Francisco, but they did know of that bridge. Cameras came out and an excited murmur started all over the bus.

In May 1999, as I returned from my semester abroad in London, I remember circling over the Golden Gate as my plane came in to San Francisco International Airport--and though I was sad to leave such a glorious city as London, I was happy to come home, and to be greeted first by that beautiful bridge--perhaps this is when it became my favorite icon. All I know is that I've always loved that bridge.

Here are some of my favorite pictures of it, all taken by me over the years.

Taken from a boat during a tour of the bay. This is looking north towards
the Marin Headlands.

This is from a lookout point on the north (Marin) end of the bridge.
Not in the picture, to the left, is downtown San Francisco.

From somewhere in the Presidio.

It's often difficult to get a completely clear blue sky in
San Francisco. Here the morning fog has mostly lifted.

From the scenic overlook in Marin--you can make out part of San Francisco.

San Francisco's famous fog...I am actually very proud of this picture.

From Baker Beach, just south of San Francisco, on a foggy morning.

Driving across. There are six lanes for auto traffic. The yellow cylinders are
moved throughout the day to accommodate traffic flow. During morning
Rush Hour, traffic from Marin County into the city gets four lanes, for example.

Glorious sunny day, and a stellar view of the bridge from the Presidio.

I snuck a pic of this bride--what a beautiful place to take
wedding pictures!

You may be starting to understand just how many pictures I've taken of
this bridge, and from how many angles.

I set my camera timer to get this one of me with a signed California flag. It
was part of the Keane Flag project--the guys loved it, and I love that my flag
is now part of something they have kept.

Even Cali Swimmy loves the Golden Gate.

"I have known her for 15 years, and she is more beautiful than ever ... Her hair is usually a copper-red, and she has enormous feet, but once you have seen her bathing in the sun, she becomes a woman you will never forget." - Dean Jennings, The Chronicle, 1952

"The Golden Gate Bridge's daily strip tease from enveloping stoles of mist to full frontal glory is still the most provocative show in town." - Mary Moore Mason, editor of British magazine Essentially America, 2000

Quotes taken from this article, which also contains some fantastic pictures.

My Week in Instagram #7

So I missed last week. Blame holiday laziness. This week I missed one day of documenting my life on Instagram.

Sunday:

My new calendar for my wall. :)

My intentions for the year, posted next to my desk.

One of my intentions, already in action. P.S. Really enjoying
the book. :)

Monday:

Going out for NYE dinner. Yes, I *do* love my new necklace.

We ate at a local Italian place, and I had a gorgeous moscato
with dinner.

Tuesday:

Happy New Year! I went for a run in very mis-matched
gear, but those glove/mitten hybrids are a life-saver.

I took my iPhone on the run--I normally don't. This is
looking out over the wetland preserve near home, with the
Sacramento Valley in the distance.

Happy Runner, about to get started.

Tired Runner, after two-and-a-half miles.

Little picnic spot in the middle of a busy street.

Wednesday:

I took one pic on Wednesday. This is Biggie Swimmy,
Dottie Swimmy, and the Minions, along with a cute
sign that Duck Lady Lindsay gave me for Christmas.

Thursday:

Waiting for Mom at her dental appointment.

Otherwise, a lunatic mood (there's a blog about that
coming soon) kept me from ticking things off my daily
checklist (you thought I made this checklist up?!).

Christmas pressie from Duck Lady Sarah.

A couple of great quotes. The running one has been there
for ages. Lindsay's (yes, the duck lady) is new.

Saturday:

I have a new gig! Teaching private piano/voice lessons
at a local business. I started today, inheriting someone's
students as she "retires" her position.

It was a busy day 'til I had FOUR no-shows in a row,
giving me four hours to sit there and get bored.

My best "not impressed" face. No-shows suck, especially
when one is cold and hungry!

This week will be crazy, as I get my schedule ironed out now that I've got new private students, etc. And in HUGE excitement, I'm going to see Keane on Friday in San Francisco, so expect a bit of a Friday-heavy post next week.

First Run

This morning, I laced up my Mizunos and headed out for my first run of 2013.

I wasn't entirely sure how it would go, but I was determined to do my best. My running has been lax in the last couple of weeks--a combination of busyness, holiday indulgence and last week, deliberately giving myself a break (all runners need to do this sometimes).

So I set out this morning, into a very chilly New Year's Day morning, and did my usual warm-up walk (about eight-tenths of a mile). When I reached the starting point for my run, I picked up the pace, starting slowly, listening to my body for signs of resistance. Aside from the normal creaks and groans, all was quiet.

I settled into a good pace--not too fast, but certainly not a slow jog--and started thinking about how far to run today. An easy mile? Two miles? In the end, I decided to let my body tell me.

It was very cold--I had a scarf around my neck and fingerless gloves with pull-over mitten covers on my hands. My leggings and tech shirt don't keep the wind entirely out, but at least as my body warms with the running, they keep me protected from the cold air.

My mind wanders everywhere when I run. A wild combination of daydreams, lesson plan ideas, recent conversations, ideas for my blog, and everything else swirl around. Sometimes I settle on one topic to think about, but more often, my brain leaps from one thing to the next, then back, then forward again. I don't find it distracting, and actually, it helps keep boredom at bay. I get some of my best ideas when I'm running, and I find myself able to solve the nagging little problems in my head.

And sometimes, I so completely lose myself in the rhythm of running that I find myself simply feeling my body move and enjoying the sensation of having power. Today, it occurred to me that I am so very fortunate to be able to run. A smile spread across my face and wouldn't leave...a far cry from the reluctant runner of a year ago, who ran because she simply wanted to lose weight.

I ended up putting in two-and-a-half miles, and walking the mile-and-a-half home feeling fantastic. Post-run endorphins are a fantastic thing. No other activity--weight lifting, cross training, cycling, swimming--gives me quite the same rush as running outside on a crisp, sunny winter day.

It's a wonderful way to start a new year.