Realizing dreams

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you are running in place, trying feverishly to get somewhere and quite never making it? I have them all the time.

Today, that dream was my reality. The entire day consisted of me trying to write a story, but getting caught up in the side trivial details. Getting distracted by other possibilities that never came to fruition. And like my dreams, the first task never solidified. I never finished what I was trying to do, sometimes wondering exactly what that was.

Now that my shift is over, I still feel incomplete. The stress still lingers, like it does when I wake up from those dreams and remind myself, I don't have to worry.

Lesson learned: Let go.

Three for the price of one

I have wanted to do a triathlon for a long time. I just thought when I actually did it, I would train for it, practice the transitions and anticipate it for months.

Well I finally did one, but I decided to do it the day beforehand. Since it was sprint distance, I figured I could rely on my regular swimming and biking work outs to get through it.

It all started when I volunteered to be part of a relay team with Paul, a friend from church. His team's biker had dropped out, so I stepped in.

Then Paul's pregnant wife, Jenn, who is also a good friend, had her baby early. It was probably for the best, considering last time I talked to Paul he said, "Yeah, I just got up to running two miles without stopping." That was right before he told me the other guy can only swim three laps without stopping.

After Paul cancelled, my biking buddy Steve called and told me he was considering doing it. And of course he talked me into it too.

So it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, considering the last minuete nature of the decision. I did learn a few things for next time (and I think there will be a next time):

1. During the swim, don't panic, even when there are hundreds of legs and arms swinging in the water around you. Just roll with it. So what if you get kicked in the face. Or swallow a gallon of water. Or lose your goggles. (All things that happened to me).

2. Get a road bike. I felt pretty good on the bike, but it didn't really matter how good I felt, because I had a handicap since I was riding on a mountain bike. I could pass people on the up and down hills, but I tended to get passed on the flats and transitions.

3. Hydrate. Luckily I only had a quarter mile left when I started feeling cold chills.

Despite all that, I placed first in my age group. I got the blue medal and everything. I will be honest though — there was a friend of mine in my age group who left me in the dust (along with most men). It's just that because she got best female overall, she didn't get to get first place in her age group too. Thanks Ryan, for kicking butt.

Right now, I would kill for something chocolate.

Lesson learned: See above.

Night watch

A few weeks ago, an acquaintance asked if my job required that I be on call all the time, considering I cover crime and fire. At the time, I answered "no," that I don't really have to be.

That may technically be correct. I think I could refuse if I really wanted to. But I'm learning that I really do have to go, in part because my boss expects me to and in part because I feel a journalistic responsibility to. It something happens, my boss calls me, and I go.

Case in point: I had just gotten off Friday night and wasn't feeling very well. Sarah was on her way over for a movie night. Then I got a call from my boss telling me about a house fire in a nearby town. So I went, leaving Sarah at my apartment to entertain herself. When it comes down to it, I do like going out on this stuff. It is sort of an adrenaline rush, and it's interesting to figure out how it all happened. But it tends to happen at inopportune times.

Lesson learned: I guess I am on call.

Where's my cake?

Yesterday was my third anniversary at the paper I work for.

Sadly, when I came in to work in the morning, there were no streamers on my desk or a barbershop quartet singing my praises. Okay, well, yeah, I guess three years isn't all that spectacular.

It is pretty amazing how fast it went by. To celebrate, I didn't have to write a story for today's paper. Actually, that's not exactly true. The reason was just because the story I was going to write held for space reasons, and my boss was nice enought to tell me before I killed myself trying to write it by deadline. Hey, a girl can pretend.

Lesson learned: Guess Chris's 30 years are more impressive than my three.

Using my minor

So the description of my blog includes "musician." Yet in the year that I have had this blog, I don't think I've made one post about music. That's likely because I really haven't been playing the piano as much as I should. In fact, I'm still playing the songs I learned in college, when I was a music minor, aside from a couple songs I've written since then.

So last night I was feeling inspired and wrote a song. If I actually make myself do it, it's not as hard as it sounds. I just need to take the time. I stayed up a lot later than I meant to. The thing about composition, is even if I write it down, I'm always afraid to go to sleep the first night. No matter how many times you play it, you always forget at least parts of it.

But I got it all back this morning with the help of my notes.

Lesson learned: I need to do this more often.

Dancing queen

When I was little, my dad used to get my sister and I to go to ballet and tap dance class by bribing us with ice cream. Every Wednesday, he'd take us to Stump's Pumps for a sugar cone after practice. To be honest, I would have gone to dance anyway, it was my sister who needed a little persuasion.

Still, I am thankful that my dad pushed us to do stuff like that. And I still really love to dance. So yesterday night I went to a contemporary/jazz dance class a friend of mine has been promoting. I used to be a bit skeptical of contemporary dance. It just seemed like a lot of flailing around to me. I've come to have a newfound respect for it now that I see it more on TV. They do some really amazing and compelling things in this style.

Anyway, the class was really fun. It was nice to do something different and learn something new. And it's not a bad workout.

Lesson learned: I can still do a pas de bouree. Thanks dad.

Shocked

I got tased today. As in, with a Tasor — one of those guns police use to shock people.

Don't worry, it wasn't because I stormed a cop with a knife or resisted arrest. They were just training and I am writing a story about it.

To say I got tased is a slight exaggeration. I didn't get the full on treatment, where they shoot these probes, which are connected to the gun with wires, into your skin. The wires send an electrical shock from the gun into your body. It basically takes you out.

They shot me without the probes, just putting the gun directly to my leg, so that I could just get a feel what what the current is like. It was intense enough that I could really only take a couple seconds of it — if even. You lose control of your muscle, and it just makes you involuntarily flex.

Lesson learned: Fight with a cop and you will lose.

Winging it

It's been more than a month since I got back from Japan, but gave a presentation this morning to the local Rotary club who sponsored me on my trip.

As you can probably guess, I procrastinated putting something together till the last minute. On Monday, I compiled a quick power point presentation with photos from the trip. Last night, instead of reviewing what I was planning to say, I went out with a friend for a drink.

When I got to the breakfast meeting, we realized there was no cable that could connect my Mac to the projector. "This is not looking good so far," I thought. We managed to do a quick trade out to a different lap top, and I was online.

Despite my lack of preparation, it actually went brilliantly. They even laughed and oohed and ahhed. Who knew? My publisher, who is a member of the Rotary, shocked me by saying it was the best presentation they've had (which honestly makes me wondering where they're getting their speakers.) Still, it was nice validation.

Lesson learned: Maybe I should wing it more often.

Dog paddeling

I just joined a local swim team in my area and had my first practice on Monday.

It was funny, but for the first time in awhile, I was actually nervous. I spent the hour and a half beforehand trying to suppress the butterflies in my stomach. I had visions of these tall, sleek swimmers gliding by me as I dog paddled.

In reality, I didn't have anything to worry about. Keeping up wasn't really the issue, it was keeping track of what I was supposed to do. The coach would stand at the head of the pool, hollering a string of lap sets: "200 free, four 50 IMs, 50 free, four 25 IMs..." I could usually only remember the first two, and even then, I would forget where I was. One time I actually did an extra IM, which is one lap of each stroke.

It felt good to be in the water, though, and the hour went by fast.

Lessoned learn: I know how to swim, I need to learn how to count.

Where's Bobo?

Steve, his friend, Ben and I did our signature "ditch" ride this weekend. I've mentioned it before. It's about 42 miles, much of which winds right beside a culvert of water. Most of it is pretty tame. In fact, one of the more harrowing parts is ducking the dogs that rush us as we pass by. I think the anticipation of seeing a couple of them is actually worse the the real encounter.

My favorite is a large Rotweiler with a sharp bark, who, I kid you not, just happens to be named Bobo. To tell you the truth, I have never actually seen Bobo. Just heard him as I pedal by, keeping my eyes down and my pedals circling. This season, so far, he hasn't materialized. This time we called him, hoping he would come out and make an appearance. No such luck.

Lesson learned: I think Bobo moved.

Other side of the bars

I'm writing a story about women jail deputies, so of course, I sought one out. She's only 26 — younger than me— and about the same height. She told me some wild stories about the things she has to deal with as caretaker of criminals. People on drugs. Inmates calling her names. Her safety outside of work.

I have to admit, every once and awhile, the latter crosses my mind. What if someone I wrote about wanted revenge and burned down my house? Nothing even close has happened so far and I'll likely be fine. But it made me realize what these deputies face. They have daily contact. All I did was pass through the jail. Only a handful of inmates had a good look at me. It's a whole different thing when they all know your name.

Lesson learned: My skin is thin compared to these women.