MIXEDTRAVELS

How To Write (And Finish) A Dissertation In 9 Months

2011-06-16T08:57:00.000-07:00

I started writing my dissertation in August of 2010 and I finished the first draft February 2011 and submitted the next to final draft in April of the same year. The April submission was the one I defended one month later in East Lansing, MI to an audience of 12 or so people. How did I do it? Simply put...I sat my ass down in a chair and wrote.

And I wrote and wrote and wrote until my behind grew a bit bigger and the pages increased in numbers. But, there was a game plan to my madness that I found worked for me and maybe it can work for you (depending on your committee and requirements).

I decided to stay in the UK to write as I had a job as a researcher and social policy analyst. My partner was also with me having given up his job in the US and obtaining a 3 year work permit. We wanted to make a new life in the UK and I had no intentions of returning to the US (well at that time). Come the summer of 2010 I discovered one my committee members was leaving the university at the end of the 2011 school year so I knew I really needed to get my dissertation in before he left or risk putting someone on my committee who I did not know at a late stage in my degree. This ended up happening anyway - and lucky the person who came on was amazing and didn't try to change anything.

Given all of this I made a work plan and stuck to it like white on rice (cheesy but effective). After doing an outline of the chapters and what should go into them I focused on a chapter a month. Really, this is do-able if you have transcribed your interviews along the way and written out your field notes (this I HIGHLY recommend you do).

Each chapter was reviewed by my major adviser the following month and we had a phone meeting scheduled in each month to review the submitted chapter. This meant a continuous write, hand-in, phone meeting, revise routine. But this allowed me to be accountable to someone and to get feedback early enough in the process to stop me from going in the wrong direction. I wrote chapters out of order as the theory and methodology chapters were much easier to write then the data or introduction. And really, the conclusion won't come until you have done multiple drafts of the other chapters.

But, I was not just writing full time. I also had my job. This meant my brain and fingers were always going and my ass was always glued to a seat. Not my ideal situation, but it made me keep to a schedule as I had no time to just wallow solely in dissertation misery.

Seven months later I had enough of a draft to send out to the full committee. By March 1st I was sitting in my home office on Skype with them to discuss my work. I was full of hope since I had been revising along the way but that hope was quickly crushed by the onslaught of critique I endured (mainly from members of my committee who had refused to give me feedback along the way). Multiple things were not up to par for members of committee- primarily in the way I wrote up my findings. I was not strong enough in the delivery and too timid in the use of the information I presented. I agree with most of it - I was too tired to argue much and I just wanted the damn thing passed. I said give me a month and I will give you want you all want. Everyone was skeptical I could turn it around in time to defend. I wasn't though -I wanted to be out of school and working so I took a month off of work and just wrote.

I wrote and wrote and wrote, working 12 hour days in my office. Rockstar energy drinks and popcorn became my new best friends and I was permanently in sweatpants and t-shirts. I focused on the critiques I was given and made sure to address them in my revisions. I added two new chapters and fixed the hell out of my others. In 31 days I produced the document that would allow me to defend. But - and this is KEY - I also submitted with the dissertation a one-page document outlining the 5 major issues the committee found with the first draft. I then said how I addressed each of those issues and gave the exact location in the dissertation where those changes could be found.    This made my committee happy and as they all say - happy committee happy life.

So there you go - writing a dissertation in nine months, or less, is do-able. But before I go I just want to impart a few lessons I learned along the way, some of which you might (or most likely) have heard already.

1) The dissertation is NOT your life's work - it is the BEGINNING

        I think too many times grad students think that dissertation has to be perfect and is the culmination of your life's work. That is ridiculous - you have never written a dissertation before (unless you have already received a PhD and then if so you are ridiculous for getting another). This is a learning process and the dissertation is evidence that you know how to conduct a research project and write up the results in a suitable manner for you field.

2) Your dissertation topic DOES NOT HAVE TO BE your life's work

        After spending anywhere from 3 to 10 years on one topic you just might become sick of that topic. It's normal and apart of life. Your future research, if you choose to still remain in research, does not have to be on the same topic(s) as your dissertation. Again, the dissertation is about showing you can do research and the skills you learned should be transferable.

3) You DON'T HAVE TO GO INTO ACADEMIA if you don't want to....and you are not a "failure" if you don't

      This is a topic that comes up again and again amongst people I know. When you started as a grad student you were most likely full of energy and hope. You had some amazing vision of sitting in an office with books all around talking with students and coming up with theories. This was heaven and you were working towards it. Fast forward 5 to 10 years later and you are tired, annoyed, and trying to just finish your degree before you debt becomes astronomical. Then, when you are done you realize you might not want to go right into the academy. Maybe you want to take a few years and work in the public or private sector, for an NGO, or just bum around the world. You know what - that's OK. Again, how are you to know what you will feel in the future? So, if your plans change roll with it. But, don't allow others opinions to influence your life decisions once you have the diploma in hand. Take what you learned during your studies and find the path that is right for you.

4) You are MORE THAN your dissertation

   It's funny how easy this is to forget. You are you and you is a multifaceted being. What you research is just that - what you research. It is not who you are. It's simply what you do, and only one aspect of what you do. You also may sing, paint, run, read, tell funny stories, drink, smoke. But your dissertation and graduate school is simply one aspect of what you do. Remember that the next time someone is bragging to you about all the articles they have drafted while writing up 4 grants and reading Foucault on the side for fun. Tell yourself that's what they do and be happy you do other things. Most of the time the talk is all for show.

5) Check your EGO at the door

      Let's face it - if you want to complete a PhD you need to check your ego at the door. You will be critiqued, critiqued and critiqued some more. I found that you have to separate your personal feelings from the task at hand, which is to learn the necessary skills that will allow you to say you are an expert in a particular academic field. This means you have to learn when and how to pick your battles and let your work, and not always your mouth, speak for itself. Now, I have heard horror stories of committees not getting along and advisers not passing students. I had my fair share of committee drama during my Masters defense. But, if you can navigate the egos you will encounter in these processes then when you are done you can navigate just about anything.

So, this is just my two-cents on how I navigated the dissertation write-up. Feel free to share your own experiences. But to all those writing up I wish you well. Keep truckin and remember...

I'm Back...And Moving To The USA!

2011-05-23T10:38:00.000-07:00

Well after a five month hiatus from blogging I've done a few things.

I got a German Shepard puppy named Whiskey:

I went crazy finishing my PhD:

I become a Project Manager at work:

Lost, gained and then gained some more dissertation weight:

And now after 2 years in the UK Mike and I are moving back to the US of A at the end of June to start anew.

My friends Ally and Sam at my graduation

It's been an interesting time in my life. I spent 12 years working towards the goal of becoming a doctor. Through all the moves across the world, writing assignments, grants, conference talks, late nights and heartache I never really thought it would end. It's hard to see the finish line when there are so many obstacles to cross beforehand. But, this past school year it all fell into place. The research ended, the words began to flow, my ass became glued to my desk chair and the weight piled on. After nine months I gave birth to a 170 page document that showcased my "expertise" in the field of anthropology. I defended my work, received my hood, drank my whiskey in celebration and now I can put the big "Dr." before my name. What now?

That "what" is a move - it's what I do best. My next move is back to the good old USA to figure things out. I am determined to get into social policy and research and stay out of the academy for a while. The best way to do this is to make my way to the nation's capital and the surrounding areas. It's not what I envisioned, or what I thought I wanted. Yet, if I have learned anything in the last decade of my life is that life is a funny bitch and it's all about the hustle:

When I just don't want to move...

2011-01-11T06:50:00.000-08:00

When I get the urge to sit on my backside in front of the computer and not move my body like it should be moved I look at this ad and promptly my backside is out the door.

What gets you out when all you want to do is stay in?

My Body

2011-01-05T15:02:00.000-08:00

It's the New Year. As we all know the new year brings with it new (and old) resolutions. Some people want to stop smoking, others learn yoga, travel, meditate, find a partner/break up with a partner...the list goes on and on. But the number one resolution that seems to be pouring from newspapers, TV, the Internet, and people's lips is to...wait for it...LOOSE WEIGHT! Now, I can't lie. That is kind of one my resolutions as well and has been for the past 2-3 years. But, being inundated with constant messages about loosing weight to feel great in the New Year got me thinking about my relationship with my body. If I had to give it a Facebook status I would say "it's complicated."

I'm 6'3" - I've mentioned this before I'm sure. I am also a female (just in case you forgot). My hair is curly, my skin is brown, and my mouth is loud. Over the years I have loved, hated, despised, embraced, hated, despised, loved, embraced, hated, despised...you get the point...my body. During the down times I realize I detested my body because I felt it did not look or feel feminine enough. My body was too tall, my shoulders too broad, my hair too short - or if long it was too curly and big, my weight too high. OH WEIGHT - really it mostly boiled down to that fact that I was just too damn big to be feminine. To be a female and be comfortable in my femaleness. Even at my leanest I still, at times, felt too big because my body was strong and muscular due to long sessions at the gym and on the trail and the woman around me small and petite and able to fit into a size 6

But, it's a new year after all and so I decided a new year needs new ideas and beginnings. For the past three years I have belittled myself internally for gaining and loosing weight. For starting and stopping training programs. For allowing stress and school/work to get in the way of my body's well being. But all that has left me with is frustrations, self-doubt, and a pain in my ass (from the sciatica). Then I read two interesting articles that, after letting them ruminate in my mind for a bit, made me rethink this whole resolution thing.

The first was a blog post from Jezebel called "A Call to Arms (and Abs, Quads, Calves and Shoulders)." The author writes about her own frustrations with lady fitness magazines always having articles about loosing weight - and not about being ft and healthy. For a woman, working out = loosing weight and looking good FOR OTHER PEOPLE. But what about all the women who work out to build muscle, jump higher, run longer/faster, climb better, swim harder. What about women who work out cause they want a strong body that allows them to keep moving into old age? What about woman who want to challenge their mind, body and soul? Who want to push their limits and see what they can do? What about all the women who dont' give a rat's ass about being a size 2 but want to see if they can bench 200lbs?

Reading that article over and over again I realized...shit that's me! I want to see how long I can run for, how much I can push my physical and mental being. I want to see muscle replace fat in order to make my body move in ways I can only imagine. I want to be 70, 80, hell maybe even 90 and running ultramarathons in random places around the globe. I realized, finally, I just want to be me.

But, I was only half way there. I still saw myself as a fat slob, a blob, that was doomed to repeat this damn cycle over and over again. During the holiday season I was gluttonous - eating whatever was in front of me and drinking even more. I constantly woke up hungover, either from food, drink or both. I told myself I was "relaxing," but really I was depressing (myself). I ran once, lifted twice, and felt like shit three times over.

Then New Years Eve hit and I looked at Mike and said, "Dude after tonight I can't keep doing this. Something's not right and I feel like crap." Mike looked at me and replied, "That's good but you got to start loving yourself more for this to stick. You got to love you for you now, and not what you want to be." DAMN...the truth hurts.

Three days later, as if the universe wanted to smack my upside the head some more, I saw an article in the Daily Mail (yes I read it sometimes) about...loving yourself slim. Basically it was the long form of Mike's advice - you can't reach your goals until you love yourself for who you are at that moment. It makes sense really. How am I going to lean out, and stay lean, if I am constantly critiquing and ridiculing my body? How am I going to run longer if I keep telling myself I am to slow, to big, to knock-kneed to increase the miles? It's self-sabotaging. If I think I am fat and will always be fat and will never be able to run past a certain mileage or a certain time then I won't. Why? Because the slightest hick-up will be made into an end-all-be all, an all or nothing and I'll fall off the wagon (again). It's with anything in life.

Finally, I saw an article (the same night) in The Guardian about bad-ass Ironman athlete Chrissie Wellington. This woman has won Kona three times (the first win was her first time in the race), has set numerous records around the goal, and is just overall my hero. She makes no qualms about her body and embraces her faults. She strives to push her body to the limits and is considered by many to be the greatest female endurance athlete on the planet. Not bad for a woman who didn't even start doing athletics until her 20s!

I guess the point of this long rant is that I decided to make a new, New Years Resolution. Instead of striving to loose X amount of weight in Y amount of time and getting frustrated if that does not happen, I instead resolve to love my body more. Just pure and simple LOVE. LOVE every inch of my height, every amount of flesh, every strand of my curly (quickly greying) hair. In doing so I make it a priority to treat my body with respect - and respect for me is washing it, caring for it, watching what I put in my body, and working it out so it does not become stiff and underused. The more I love my body the more my body will love me. I think that's a resolution I can, and should, stick to.

What do you resolve to do in 2011?

Goodbye 2010...Hello 2011

2010-12-30T05:41:00.000-08:00

As the New Year closes so does my brain. I have been on "holiday" since December 18th from my job and since the 23rd from my dissertation. During this time I have ate a lot, drank a fair bit, worked out a little and overall felt tired, bloated, annoyed, anxious, excited and...dare I say hopeful!

2010 has been a year of ups and downs, like more years. I started the year hiking a mountain in the snow in Northwest Wales. By March I had run a half marathon in Prague and trimmed 25 lbs off my frame. April hit and with it a hip injury that only progressively got worse over the year due to my stubbornness and not properly resting. By late June I visited the States, saw some family and friends, and met my advisor who told me my initial outline of my dissertation was crap.

It was here that I began my anxiety ridden second half of the year. July was full of festivals, data transcriptions and theoretical readings. By August I had turned the big 2-9, wrote my first chapter, and I dropped out of my second half marathon. September thru December was more of the same same, but different. I continued to write, work, work out less, went on a few walks, became more irritated, dabbled in yoga, and then wrote some more.

Now I sit here on December 30, 2010 writing some more and planning to stop soon because it is just making me more annoyed. But, the good thing is the dissertation is there. I am really just now making massive edits to the five chapters I have and plodding through until February 7th when I submit the first full daft to my entire committee. For the New Year I intend to write a bit more, run a hell of a lot more, get a dog, graduate with my PhD and finally....just finally...maybe I can just be and enjoy my life.

But really Katt Williams says it best...

What do you hope the new year will bring you?

Stroke, Float, Sink...Repeat

2010-11-25T04:40:00.000-08:00

The cold weather is slowly setting in throughout the Southwest over here in the good-old UK. Barefoot running is more like numb foot running and my hips are acting up to much for me to even enjoy the sport at the moment so my runs have become minimal. So I am trying to make the pool my friend at least once a week to take the pressure of my joints while I get the blood flowin and the heart pumpin.

Problem is...the water and I aren't friends or really even associates yet. We have this weird relationship. If I don't visit the pool on a regular and consistent basis then when I do get in I feel as if she is going to swallow me whole and then spit me out. It's like she is back handing me and making me feel bad for cheating on her with the rowing machine or free weights. I then feel I need to tell her it's not her...but me. My confidence in the still body of water is still minuscule. I can kick and stroke but not for very long or very far and if I can't put my feet on the floor then I don't go in...PERIOD.

However, that has to change because I have gotten this crazy idea in my head that I want to learn how to row next year and I want to join the Bristol women's rowing club. But to take the learn how to row class I need to be able to swim 100 meters in light clothes - makes sense if I am to be in a BOAT in the middle of a BODY of WATER.

Now some of you might be thinking "Why would you want to learn to row if you don't necessarily like the water?" Answer: "Why the hell not?" See I miss a team sometimes. I miss the camaraderie between teammates and the fun of being active with a group of people. Plus, it's a good way of making friends in a new place where I am still learning the local ways of...making friends. Besides, it just looks cool.

I mean let's face it - I taught myself to run long distances even when doctors told me I might not be able to even walk properly again. I jumped out of a plane twice in one day attached to another person. I got myself on a bike at age 27 and learned to not fall of. I made myself get in the water and learned to at least get my feet off the floor and kick not long after. I even found myself on a side of a mountain in snow on a new years morning with no crampons and a bad fear of heights, and got back down without killing myself. So I figure if I can get myself to make the water my friend then I can find myself one day in the middle of a lake in a row boat with 5 other women working up a sweat and getting some definition back into my shoulders and back.

Today I got back into the pool. Second time in two weeks. I said hi to the water, took a deep breathe, and pushed off the wall all by myself. I had Mike stand next to me instead of in front and I made it down and back again - stopping only 7 (ok maybe 8) times. 6 lengths total which is a nice start for me. It's a shallow pool. I still have problems learning how to breathe, and my body gets tired quick with the new movements but dammit I will be able to swim 100 meters in light clothes so I can at least see if I can learn how to row a bit farther. I'll keep you updated.

Oh and HAPPY AMERICAN THANKSGIVING to all...and to all a good day.

Storytelling

2010-11-15T08:53:00.000-08:00

My dad was a man who use to tell stories. Stories oozed from his lips like smoke from a cigarette. Long drawn out stories from days gone past, my dad taught me about life through his elaborate tales.

I learned how to drink by listening to my dad recall his days of old. My favorite? The time he says him and two friends "accidentally" drank his grandpas potato moonshine. From the "old country" my dad's grandpa liked to brew his own drink. To great-granddad beer was always room temperature and alcohol always homemade. My dad was a skinny red head who didn't realize the difference between moonshine and regular vodka. The only thing he remembered was drinking in the basement of his grandpas house and then waking up in his room in a rocking chair naked. His car was on the front lawn and the front door wide opened. His dad asked him what the hell happened and my dad replied "Well I was drinking grandpas vodka.." His dad cut off by saying "that shit is pure moonshine. Surprised your not dead." The hangover lasted 3 days. Lesson: Don't drink shit you don't know. Easy enough.

My dad also taught me the fine art of enjoying my liquor. To him a good woman should know how to drink whiskey straight and play blackjacks. When I was 10 he sat me down with his good Jack Daniels cards (ones we were NEVER allowed to touch without him being present) and instructed me on the fine art of blackjack. He showed me when to hit and when to call, and tried to guide me in the practice of bluffing (or what it also know as bullshitting). These transferable skills of bullshitting are ones I call upon often in academic writing. I use my understandings of whiskey on the weekends to recover from the bullshitting performed during the week.

I also learned to appreciate the musical artform known as country. A hard core country (and Elvis) listener, my dad always had 99.5 US 99 blasting from the radio on all car trips. Brooks and Dunn, Garth Brooks, Wynona Judd, Reba MacEntire, and Trais Tritt were all some of my favorite singers in the 80s and 90s. As the years went on I leaned away from my country roots, letting the opinions of others influence my music preference. But then I moved to the South and my relationship with country was mended. One of my dad's proudest moments was when I called him to tell him I bought my first real pair of cowboy boots at a cowboy store in Baton Rouge. He told me "good job" and then proceded into another story about his first part of cowboy boots. Apparently they were a bitch to break in and the first few times he put them on he looked like he was crapping his pants cause he was walking so bad. So his advice was to start off small and break them in.

Being a know-it-all I didn't really listen to the story and its lesson until it was to late. I was on the streets of New Orleans during Halloween in so much pain all the whiskey in the world wouldn't cure. I still have the scares of the multiple blisters that appeared on my feet that night. But I broke them damn boots and have been stompin in them every since.

I loved my dad's stories as they took me to other places and times. When I was kid all I could every dream about was getting out of the Southside of Chicago and into the world. Books, school and my dad's stories let me escape. When he died I decided I needed to stop living in book and through his stories and make some stories of my own. So I took a little backpacking trip to Guatemala 6 months after the funeral and it was there, in the back of a chicken bus on a old mountain road that I realized something that I have kept special in my heart to this very day.

I realized that I am my father's daughter...and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Running Barefoot

2010-10-19T06:30:00.000-07:00

I went for a run yesterday. My first in almost 3 weeks. I had to...my body was aching for it and my mind could not focus without it. In my last post I talked about being more gentle with my body so I was suppose to lay off the roads and trails for a while and hit the yoga mat with some new found enthusiasm. Needless to say that lasted a whole...week. Something was missing from my life but I didn't really realize it was running per se until I picked up a book.

That book was Born to Run and my love of, and desire for, running came back in full force. You know what had me? The second chapter when Christopher Mc Dougall went in search of the answer to the question "Why does my foot hurt?" I have been asking that same damn question over and over again for months (along with why does my hip, lower back, knee hurt as well). I almost bought into the idea I have been told over and over again by doctors, friends, and trainers since I was 22 that my body just isn't built for running. Almost that is until I opened up this book and soaked up the story that Chris (yea we are on a first name basis now) unfolds in Born to Run.

Chris and I have a few things in common - we are both 6'3" and weigh around the same (240lbs - yea I said it). While Chris is a middle-aged white male who writes for various men's magazines and sports journals and I am a late-20s mixed race female who is writing a dissertation, I felt a bond with Chris while reading his story. We are connected by our body type: our height and weight somehow makes our bodies "wrong" to other people, in various ways, when it comes to running. Like Chris I was also recommended to take up swimming or biking (both sports that I only recently learned how to do and do not do very well). Years of playing high school and college volleyball left me sick to death of team sports and a herniated disc made me have an aversion to any kind of jumping. All that aside I just like the feeling of throwing on some shoes, getting outside and having my body move at a faster than walking pace for a long duration of time. My first half marathon in Prague this year left me not only sore but happy - a genuine happiness that didn't fade, even when my hip flared up at mile 10. I was just happy to be there and be able to move with other people around me. In my training I found myself a little giddy after an hour of running as my body was just moving in this fluid (well maybe not fluid but let's just go with that) motion for long periods of time (or what seems like a long time for me).

So long story short the book got me thinking about the benefits of barefoot running. If Chris could go from being a tall big guy with a bad case of planter fasciities to running a gruelling 50 mile race with some of the best ultramarathon runners in the US and Mexico's Tarahumara people, and finish that race in one piece, by learning barefoot running then why not try it (or give a go as the Brits say).

Give it a go I did - kind of on accident. Yesterday I went to the gym and took off for an outdoor run to the nearby open grasslands. I started off in shoes cause I was still a little skeptical (plus the concrete and broken glass didn't leave me to thrilled about starting in bare feet). But after only 5 minutes of running in those neutral cushioned shoes my right Achilles felt like it was going to tear and my right hip was getting that first tingling of discomfort. So I broke into a walk for 4 minutes and started again with a light run. This time the pain was instant and I was pissed. I stepped off the walking path onto the grass, took off my shoes and socks, placed a shoe in each hand and...took off. I just ran. Slow at first but as the minutes passed my confidence grew until I was running at a pace I hadn't run at in 4 years. And you know what, it felt good. I scared myself at one point cause it felt so good and I was going so fast that I just stopped and looked around. I was't out of breathe and my legs didn't feel like cinder blocks. Damn - it actually worked. It worked so well that I didn't realized I ran in the wrong direction and had to stop to figure out where the hell I was.

I put my shoes back on so I could take the marked gravel road and trotted on back the gym parking lot and arrived just as Mike was leaving. I gave him a huge smile and said "I just went barefoot running!" He said "Oh, how did it go?" My reply "Amazing!" I felt like a kid again and for the first time in months I actually ENJOYED going out for a run. But with the cold months coming I am looking into a more minimal shoe or the five finger shoes.

What I do know is it looks like I just brought my running, and sexy, back.

Gentle

2010-10-05T07:57:00.000-07:00

While I was in yoga class today attempting to "relax" into a side bending, squatting, stretching pose (don't ask me the name cause I don't have a clue) I had a revelation. I don't think it was the big "Enlightenment" but rather a small "enlightenment" that made me realize I need to be much gentler with myself. Let me explain.

Over the years I have engaged in numerous sporting events. Basketball and softball throughout high school and volleyball all through college. I attempted rugby at one point and considered playing football (American) during these times as well. The list of injuries I accumulated is a never-ending one: concussion (I mean who slides into a brick wall instead of home plate?), sprained ankles, dislocated fingers, busted nose, strained shoulder, and one broke back and dead leg. But I always thought, well I seem to heal fast so what the hell - just keep going.

Then somewhere in the back of my mind I realized that maybe team sports were not the way to go. College volleyball wore me out, mentally and physically, and the thought of having to be on one more team with one more bitchy coach left a bad taste in my mouth. So I turned to running.

Running. A sport of individuality that can be done in a group but you compete on your own. No fancy equipment really needed, just some decent shoes and breathable clothes, open space and on you go. But, that back injury and dead leg thing from my college days stayed with me throughout my running. Once that was somewhat under control I then developed...fuckin sciatica! So now I can put that to the list of injuries along with a tight IT band on my left side and a pinch nerve in my right shoulder (who in the hell pinches a shoulder nerve in running? I do) and tense neck muscles. Essentially I am verging (or am I already there) on being a HOT...ASS...MESS.

Today in yoga as my body protested with every upward dog, downward dog, side bend, back bend, kneeing and sitting posture it hit me that I need to be more gentle with myself. Gentle is a word I don't use when describing my relationship with myself. I go hard or go home - not use to any other way of understanding how to do things. I powered through my education, never stopping on the quest to a PhD and I am making my deadline of finishing before 30. I powered through grief of loosing my dad and of trying to loose all the weight it took me years to put on. Now I am fully aware that my body just can't power through another damn run or gym session when it is obviously telling me to slow (or sit) the fuck down and chill out. I think it is time to listen this time around.

So I am re-evaluating my physical activity goals and giving myself a bit more flexibility in my time frame for all those competitions I want to do. I am keeping up this yoga thing cause "everyone" tells me it is good for my body and mind. Even though I wanted to throw up and sit down at the same time while in class today I have to agree. Come on, where else would I learn that I not only have tight hamstrings, tight hips, tight groin muscles but ALSO tight ankles (to the degree where me and child's pose are not even associates yet) and then LEARN how to "breathe" into the tightness to loosen it up?

I could easily say F it and go back to what I know - pounding the roads and hitting the weights hard but...I really don't want to. And that is a good thing I think. Self-realization is a bitch, but when you actually start listening to your body the things it tells you are amazing. So simple, yet so true. That simplicity is what I forget sometimes. Of course it makes more sense for me to take a few months and focus on my flexibility and hit the pool and bike to take the stress off my joints and nerves. Of course it makes more sense for me NOT to train for my first marathon and run it while I am are also writing and scheduled to defend my dissertation so I can graduate after 12 years of higher education. Of course it makes sense to practice activities that calm my mind so I can handle the current and impending stress. But as my dad use to say...not all sense is common and not all people have sense.

Work Plan

2010-09-20T04:25:00.000-07:00

The hardest thing about writing a dissertation is trying to do to much. I had a rough last week with overwhelming stress from writing and feelings of neglecting work and running. This weekend I spent mostly in my house on my couch physically and mentally exhausted. Downloading songs to run to from the 90s and early 2000s made me think back to times when I was less in my head and more in the moment. It's amazing how powerful music is on the psyche and after an intensive downloading session Sunday afternoon I began to understand that I need to re-evaluate my work plan

So what is this work plan you ask? Well, basically I don't need to do so much. Period. It really is simple in theory but harder in execution. I am not writing a masterpiece and I don't want to. I actually can't stand the damn dissertation and once I am done want to go in a different research trajectory anyway. This is not unusual - after you spend anywhere from 5-10 years on a research project it essentially gets old and you move onto other interests. I prefer to look more at economic inequality and the effects government policies have on disadvantaged communities if I were to take a research focused job. I also prefer to write books - still figuring out what kind but I have an idea and a basic outline on paper for when I am finished with the dissertation. Hell I wouldn't even mind writing speeches of press releases as long as I was able to use my brain and writing skills for some type of betterment of society.

But in the meantime I have to get my work plan in order. Once running started to feel like another thing I needed to do I knew I had taken this school thing a bit to far. Let's be real - I am technically still a student and so I am technically still learning how to be a PhD. The last step is learning how to write up a research project in a longer format than is really necessary. Nothing more.

But reality is setting in and once Mike has a job I will able to stop my current one and focus solely on finishing this degree. Until that happens I know I need to calm my body and mind so I am starting yoga once again. And I am practising on my breathing. It's funny how the most basic thing a human needs to survive is one of the hardest things to learn how to do effectively.

I can be dramatic, but last week was more than me being a dramatic Leo. It was a wake up call. To slip in and out of depressive states at such an intensive rate is giving into the meanings other attach to life and not my own. Lets be real - I don't want to do that. When it comes down to it I want to listen to music, run in the woods, write in comfort and live a life that I can enjoy. So I hope you all can enjoy a little bit of the music that reminded me of the joy of life this weekend.

Suffocating

2010-09-15T09:42:00.000-07:00

You ever get that feeling of suffocating? You know when you throat starts to slowly close and your breathe becomes short. When you can't seem to focus and all you want is one full gasp of air. I sometimes feel like I am suffocating. Like I can't just get a full intake of air. My body is constantly tense, my neck a tight mess. The feeling of being trapped takes over and I just want to scream and run out...run out, but I don't know where.

I don't write here alot anymore because my days are filled with endless writing for school and work. By the time I am done I am so mentally and physically tired my body reacts with feelings of nausea and fatigue. With headaches and body pain. I finally saw a specialist for my pain. I hoped it would just be a muscular imbalance, but he gently explained it was actually a mental and emotional one. By body is reaching out to me and telling me to stop. The constant ache does not go away, but rather is there day after day...after day, reminding me that I need to stop and try to play. But I am forgetting how - and I don't know when I will be able to really just sit, relax, and allow my body and mind the rest it needs.

I don't want to call it a depression...I guess I am in a recession. That downward spike that will naturally occurs in any economy when there has been too many years of excess. I don't know when that excess occurred but it must have - I think. If not then maybe I am preparing myself for a new horizon..a new game...a new something. But for now I try and keep me head up high enough so that I can gasp the air I need now and then.

I go back and forth with the idea of yoga - can I really fit in something else? Can I try and learn something new? Will this be the answer to my pains? Will this allow me to become enlightened? To find my direction? No...I am already seeing my running as another chore, another thing I must "do". Most of the time I just want to Fuck It and start anew. Start anew. Start anew. I think I just want someone to talk to...

Birthday

2010-08-19T02:43:00.000-07:00

I turn 29 Saturday. Twenty flippin nine...and I'm still in school. I've been in school since the age of 3 so my mother tells me. Non-stop I have had a book in my face and a pencil/pen/keyboard in my hands. As I near the end of this long (and I do mean long) relationship with education I find myself a bit confused and whole lot of tired.

Writing, that is all I do. I wake up, get a cup of herbal tea, open my laptop, check the email/Facebook/newspapers for an hour and then start writing. Sometimes I don't know what the hell I am writing, but I do know just seeing the page numbers increase makes me feel like I am doing something. I treat it as another job - do something for at least 6-7 hours in the day, preferably between the hours of 9 and 5 and then stop. Problem is I am also working in a "real" job that to requires me three days a week to do something in front of the computer, preferably between the hours of 9 and 5. Balancing the work with school dissertation writing is already proving to be a bit to much, but what can you do when both need to get done and without one the other is just not as meaningful.

But this post is about my birthday. I'm turning 29 in case you forgot - don't worry I do as well sometimes. And...I'm still in school. I don't know why but this is bothering me a bit more than usual. I will graduate next May come hell or high water. I can't stomach the thought of going into my 30s still in school, not taking a break since the age of 3. It's like a bad haircut that you thought was the shit but over time realize that its a pain in the ass to up keep, expensive to boot, and the appeal start to slowly wear off making you just want to shave your head and start again.

I don't know what I want to do with my life if I am being honest. I saw an education as way out. A way out of the Southside, out of the State, out of my life. I saw education as the ticket to a better life where I would be able to understand what was going on around me and contribute in a fruitful way rather than turn up another statistic. Hell, so far education has lived up those expectations - I did get out and in the process traveld to places I would never had imagined, took up sports I deemed to be for other people not like me, met a man I would have never come across and moved to another country where I do have a part time job that has me knee-deep in politics, race equality and community activism. Shit...I really couldn't have asked for much more.

But I am tired and it is wearing on me mentally and physically. Education got me to where I am now, but I don't know if education will be able to get me to where I want to be. That may sound weird cause really having the education is opening up my eyes to all the possibilities in front of me so I guess it will always get me to where I want to be, but I am not sure if that will leave me into the academy after I graduate next May. The dream of being a professor is not there anymore and as I approach 30 the feeling gets stronger and stronger that the dreams of my 20s are quickly changing and morphing into new dreams for my 30s, That is a little scary, but overall exciting as who in the hell know what will happen.

I feel as if I am saying the same thing over and over, but it is like I have to in order to get it into my head that it's ok to change - physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. I am still trying to come to terms with my physical changes and have just now realised I was self sabotaging myself every time I was getting closer to my "dream" goal size/ability. I don't want to do the same with my career goals - I spent to damn long in school and racked up to much debt to allow that to happen. (Again Sam if you can help me with the to, too situation I would be very appreciative)

So...I turn 29 on Saturday and all I want are good vibes and good times. I want to reassure myself that I can finish this dissertation and that I can start a new career path, whatever that may be. I can "not be in school" and I look forward to that day. I don't expect some rosy life is easy picture to magically emerge once I leave school and enter into a job, but I do expect something different that still challenges me mentally. As I leave my 20s I want to leave behind a lot of the insecurities and self doubt that plagued me and welcome my thirties with an open mind and heart.

Lost

2010-07-27T04:34:00.000-07:00

I have to pull out of the Bristol half marathon. My right hip can't handle the mileage or the pain at this point. I realized this Sunday after running only 2 miles. I stopped, looked at Mike and started to cry. My frustrations crept up as I could feel my pace getting better and my stride becoming stronger, but my hip just gave up. I stretched and started again, this time only lasting another 10 minutes before my run turned into a jog and then a pathetic limp.

It was then it hit me in the face that I have 5 weeks left and have only completed a 4 miler for a long run - that just won't cut it for the 13 mile event. So I have to drop out and start again.

I'm waiting for the referral to a physio by the doctor I saw and need to go in and get x-rays done tomorrow of my right hip and lower back. But I've been down this route before and know what I really need is another MRI, a full back X-ray and someone to readjust my hips and rehab my back. That takes money I don't have and time I am loosing so I'll just have to make due and use my remedy of cutting the fat off my body, strengthening my core and stretching like crazy. However I do need some professional help so I need this damn referral to get here sooner rather than later.

Honestly, it hurts a bit. I had it in my mind to run this race and now that it is gone I am a little depressed. I still plan to run Rome marathon next March and will start a 6 month progression program for that in September. I am hoping by then to be in a rehab program that will work well with the training and have my shoulder in good enough shape to begin yoga once again (seems as if I tore something there but the doctor ignored it so I need to go back and have them look at that again - don't ask me how I did it cause I really don't know but it hurts like a bitch to raise my arm and I can't put weight on the damn thing).

Overall I am a little lost. The writing is overwhelming - trying to balance it and working is hard at best. The running gave me some balance but now I need to cut down the mileage so I am turning to spinning as an alternative and hitting the trails when I can to keep the pressure of the road off my hip. But it really doesn't feel the same as a long run on a Saturday morning...

I miss having close friends around and sometimes I go through periods of feeling utterly alone and hopeless. I want my mom which is strange since I have been on my own for over 10 years, but I guess every girl wants their mom at some point in their life no matter how fucked up or strange that relationshop. I try and go out but I get annoyed as I'm not drinking and I'm tired of people trying to push a drink down my throat or asking me the same boring ass questions week after week- "Where are you from? How long have you been here? Do you like it here? What do you study?" I've learned to never ask those questions to others as just trying to spit out those words makes my skin crawl.

Ok, so I am in an annoyed mood that may pass - don't know when but it will pass...

Dissertation Writing

2010-07-22T03:29:00.000-07:00

I began to outline my dissertation today. I opened up my little folder entitled "dissertation information", clicked on the sub-folder that holds the Graduate School's detailed formatting instructions for the dissertation, and began to make files for the title page, table of contents, acknowledgements, and abstract. Now I am outlining chapter 1 and will begin to work on chapter 2 - due August 28th in the inbox of my advisor in preparation for our phone meeting August 31st. I will repeat this process for each chapter until the end of January. By February 7, 2011 I will have a completed first draft of the entire dissertation ready to submit to the full committee for their review.

As I began to type up the title page a warm feeling of satisfaction and disbelief permeated throughout my body. It's almost surreal...in less than a year I will done. I'm finishing the 12 year run I started since I left high school and the Southside of Chicago in 1999. Although this blog is about the new adventures I am taking I can't help but add this into the new journeys I am embarking on. I don't know if I every really imagined being done and now that I can see and taste the end all I want to do is fast forward to next May, walk across that stage, get my diploma, and start a new chapter in my life.

But we all know life doesn't operate in that fashion and I have to go through the ups and downs inherent within the writing and developing process of dissertation writing and job applying. I've already been turned down for one lecturer positon in the UK - but that was ok, I at least applied. The next application will be off to Oxford University for a 5 year post-doc position that would help me jump start my career. That also is a long shot but if I don't go for it then I will never know.

So now I get back to more writing before a training session latter on today.

6 weeks

2010-07-21T04:48:00.000-07:00

I have 6 weeks left of training before my half marathon September 5th in Bristol. The problem is I haven't gone longer than a 5 miler due to the hip and foot problems I've been having lately. My first appointment with a GP (or doctor) is this Friday and hopefully the lady will refer me to a specialist in lower back/hip pain or to a sport doctor who has dealt with these issues in runners.

There is no option to quit or just not do the race. It's in my mind and once there it's hard to erase. So, in the meantime I have decided to up the cross training big time. Spinning three times a week on top of 2 lifting sessions and if i am luck 2-3 runs with one long run on Sunday's is the plan of action. As long as I can hit a 10 miler before the half and keep my endurance up I know mentally I can do because the first half of the race is run on pure adrenaline and the second half of wanting to finish and have a beer (or at least this is how I run these things).

Anyone who has run a half or full marathon or done any other distance racing will tell you the worst part is the training. Period. I mean who wants to go to bed at a decent time on the weekends just so you can get up on a Saturday or Sunday morning to go for a "quick 10-12 miler" before starting your day? Drinking is curb dramatically as running hungover is not a pleasant experience. Once I get into the marathon training, which happens right after I finish my half, I will be working up to 10 milers during the week with 18-20 mile long runs on the weekend. That shit doesn't sound like fun to me. But the rewards outweigh the pain and to get my body into a shape that I can complete the training makes the actual race day a hell of a lot easier on my mind and body.

But first things first - I'll see what this NHS business is all about and try and get my hip sorted. I need rehab - I know that much but I don't want to keep guessing what kind and paying for things I just don't really like (pilates) or going to people who say I just shouldn't run (like the osteopath) or to plain dumbasses (like the physio). Yoga would be good but I can't put pressure on my right shoulder anymore (pain in the ass really). So, off to the doctor I go... I'll let you know what happens next.

Frustration

2010-07-13T03:54:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I made my way after work to one of the local running stores I frequent for running gear in order to see one of their physiotherapist that comes in twice a week. I thought since the physio was affiliated with a well know and reputable running store that it would be a good idea to go and get my hips and ankles checked out.

I am now 8 weeks from the Bristol half marathon and have only managed to get in a 4miler as my long run due to intense pain in my right hip, knee, and ankle. Sleeping is becoming a bigger problem as lying on my back is a no-go due to my back injury. After 15 seconds on my back my right leg begins to tingle and by 1 minute it's on fire. This forces me to sleep on my side but sciatica makes sleeping on either hip for more than 30 minutes uncomfortable. Now my left hip begins to scream in pain the longer I sleep on it making me toss and turn all night. Last night I had to literally sit up in bed at 4 am and wait till the pain subsided before I did the toss dance once more until 8am. So needless to say I am tired of being in pain and just plan old tired from not getting a full night sleep. Topped with a job that is a little demanding and writing a dissertation I am one transcript away from bashing my own face into the floor, or at least from booking another short vacation where I can maybe take a breath before plunging back into the hell they call PhD writing.

Trying to think logically I decided on this physio. Now normally I am anal retentive and check out the history and performance of the people I am paying to see about my back/hips/knees. I have been in pain since 2002 and so far I have seen a number of general doctors, sport doctors, osteopaths, neurologists, physiotherapists, osteopaths, yoga instructors, personal trainers and one pilates instructor. For the most part I might feel less pain for a little but then over time another area gets infected and the pain comes back double time. I refuse to have surgery as the idea of fusing my back is a little to extreme. All I want is a program or routine that I can do to calm down the pain and allow me to sit, run, and sleep in minimum discomfort. So the idea of a physio who treats runners sounds great to me. I didn't do any other checks on this guy, I just signed up online for a 45 minute initial consultation and took my happy ass down to the store.

First, the physio was 50 minutes last in seeing me because he had another client. Far enough - I can wait as I imagined some lean running physio who knows what they are talking about and can relate to someone who loves and needs to run. When he finally came upstairs he was short, balding and had a belly. Ok, ok - my imagination was shattered but I still had faith. That was until we finally got down into the physio room and for 1 hour - that's 60 minutes - he like talked at me and was more concerned about seeing me sit in front of a computer screen then looking at my stance or getting a full history. I sat there and tried to recite to him my full medical history from the time of my back break to the present. I've only done this shit over 40 times in the past few years so know how to get the information out in a concise manner so that we can get down to treatment. BUT NO...he kept talking about himself and how running 9 minutes was a big deal for him and about me getting a better desk and computer and how he was hoping to get me running again.

That was when I had enough and said - NO, I am ALEADY running and TRAINING for my SECOND HALF MARATHON and came here to see if you can HELP ME be in LESS PAIN while I train. Then I explained I did a previous half last March in Prague and plan to do the Rome Marathon March 20 of next year. I gave him my time for Prague and he had the cheek to comment on how slow that was! THEN he proceded to make the comment that with the injuries and pain I have he was surprised that 1) I was still in a PhD program (don't ask cause I am still confused by this) and 2) that I was rather ambitious and very focus to be trying for these events.

Oh...but it doesn't stop there. Then he kept asking me how I was funded as someone studying for this high of a degree from the States must be either 1) very bright or 2) well funded. Which was I? I looked at him and said "Well both." By this time I want to gouge his eyes out. But I didn't. I just waited until he was done. Pissed that I had to pay him £45 for this shit he called a session he then said he would be with me all the way and that for the first few weeks we need to see each other twice a week for 45 minutes if not an hour depending on my finances. I looked at him and said I don't know, let me think about it and then walked outside into the fresh sunshine.

Pissed I found Mike up the street, ordered myself a Chai Latte (I wanted a damn shot but I am not drinking for a while - I'll write on that later), got into the car, had a nice rant, and then went home.

What now? I don't have a fuckin clue. All I can do is keep up with my workouts and incorporate more of a run/walk technique so that I finish a little faster but in less pain. Some may ask - why run if it hurts? I say it hurts more not to run. It hurts more not to be in shape and not to the weight less. It hurts more physically, mentally, and emotionally when I see my body loose its shape and hardness and turn into a pudgy hot mess. I run to keep my fitness but also my sanity as I once again take on to many things. I have to finish this PhD by next May and I want to. I want to being my 30s out of school - it's like a fresh start for me really. So I keep running and I'll keep searching for the doctor/osteo/physio that will work for me. Until then I'll just be a slightly cranky bitch...

Vacation

2010-06-23T07:21:00.000-07:00

I am on vacation (or holiday) for 2 weeks in the States. After a few "issues" with my own family in Chicago before I left the UK, Mike and I decided that we would spend the whole 2 weeks in Michigan with his family. I was apprehensive at first - last time we stayed with his parents was exactly one year ago when we were preparing for our big overseas adventure. At that time things were stressful, Mike had a drunken accident, and we were all about to kill each other.

This time things are quite chill. Mike has been gone for a year and so his family is just happy to have him home. For the past week we have done nothing more than run, cook, read, and watch as much Bravo tv as we can (you know you LOVE the Real Housewives Franchise just as much as I do). For the first time in a long time I am actually learning to relax...to a point.

It's funny - the more relaxed I get the more I feel like I should be doing work. I check my email expecting something from work to pop up or anticipating reading a new article or policy that is related to my research. I told my boss that for the 2 weeks I was off I would be OFF - no emails, no texting, no asking me to do something as I wanted to have a real holiday. Now that I have it I am finding it a little hard to actually fully enjoy the time off - it's sick! I meet with my adviser on Friday to go over my dissertation and so although I did all of my prep for that meeting before I left Bristol and sent it to her I still feel like I should be reading/writing.

But, I am not and am trying to teach myself the art of time off. I bitch about wanting a break but when I get them I don't know what to do with myself. I ran a 5K race two days after arriving in the US and have been running consistently since then which is a good thing, been trying to see a few friends, and trying to catch up on some fun reading. I guess that is what relaxing is? Who knows. But for now I know that I needed the time off to calm my mind and my body before the the next 10 months of writing, working and running commence. Now the World Cup..USA, USA, USA...

Graduation

2010-06-07T01:34:00.000-07:00

May 6, 2011. This is the date that I will be graduating with my Ph.D in Anthropology (specialising in socio-cultural aspects of race, racism, identity, citizenship, and nation) from Michigan State University. About 2 weeks ago I had a skype meeting with my adviser and we both agreed that I can push hard these next few months and get it done. After 6 years at MSU and 12 (DAMN) years in total since I graduated high school I will finally end my love-hate relationship with studenthood.

Am I ready? Simply put...HELL YEA. My entire 20s have been spent within the academy. I'v raked up student loans in excess of $70,000 WITH fellowships in ever year but this last one (not even sure of this figure but that is the bare minimum I know I will be paying back). have moved states and now countries, loss my dad, found my soul mate, loss some weight, gained some of it back, and now am loosing it again, and in general have grown a hell of a lot. And, I'm tired of being a student. Tired of being broke, relying on fellowships and loans to get by on. I'm tired of being underpaid based on the fact that I am a student (cause come on those TAships are a joke with all the work you do). But I have learned something valuable in all the jobs I have taken- unless you realize your own value no one else will - Period.

So this next 10-11 months will entail me writing my ass off. I signed up for the Bristol half marathon and will do the Rome marathon March 20, 2011 as a way to have something else to also aim/train for alongside the writing and working. Balance is key and Lord knows I have forgotten that far to often when deadlines start to approach and stress levels create blinders that allow me to forget that I have a life outside of work/school. This summer challenge with the following one in winter helps me remember to keep eating healthy food and work out. Running saved my life so I make that a priority and not just an extra thing I do if I THINK I have the time because really one can make time for anything they actually prioritize.

But you may be asking - will I really finish? Again...HELL YEA. Why? Because it is not in my reality no to (Sam is this the right form of "to"?). I can actually picture myself giving the defence, passing, turning in the dissertation to the grad school, getting my fancy cap and gown, and walking across that stage with a big smile on my face and most likely a little tear in my eye. Thoughts become things and my thoughts are completely focused on getting done and getting a job that I enjoy and allows me to pay my bills and live a comfortable life.

When I finish I will be 29 years old, 3 months shy of turing the Dirty 30. I will close one chapter of my life and begin another. I wonder what my 30s will bring...

Summer Challenge 2010

2010-05-31T02:39:00.000-07:00

I did it again. I went and signed myself up for another challenge to coincide with my training for the Bristol half marathon in September. Some of you may recall the winter challenge I did over the holiday season at the end of last year through the Burn the Fat Inner Circle online community that my favorite health guru Tom Venuto is in charge of (see picture on right). It's simple really - I had to get my weight and body fat, calculate my lean body mass and my fat, do my body measurements, state my long and short term goals, and then take pictures of myself in my underwear from the front, side and back (lovely). I posted this all to a thread with my name and after 98 days I do this all again and see how much my body has transformed over that time.

The last challenge was a success and helped me to kickstart my body transformation - it will take me a year to reach my goals so I am a 1/3 of the way there. the past 3 months have seen me at a plateau - not really losing but not gaining so it's time for another kick start.

Now I have 14 weeks (98 days) to reach my short terms goals. That involves shedding 14-28lbs (1-2 lbs a week), 6-7% body fat (.5% per week), and finishing this challenge with my second half marathon (where I plan to run the whole thing, no walking). It's nice to have this to help me along the summer. Usually people lose weight over the summer cause its hot and you are outside more. The past few summers I have actually gained due to drinking in excess which leads to eating in excess. Plus I was in Michigan working on my dissertation and teaching, so being outside was not something I actually wanted to do. My trip to SE Asia last summer left me even more depressed because I saw how much I had let myself go, making traveling more uncomfortable than enjoyable.

I learned alot from that trip and so am glad it happened the way it did - I can't allow a place to dictate my happiness and lease on life. I was miserable in Michigan and blamed it on being in Michigan. That was only part of it as I had said the same thing about Louisiana, Chicago, D.C. and Wisconsin - it was always the location I was in that was making my unhappy. The real problem was that I hadn't made peace with myself - made peace with the fact that I was once very large, made peace with the fact that my dad had passed, made peace with the fact that I didn't "need" friends to rely on me for support, made peace with the fact that I am sensitive (cause I am you know). I mean I had to make peace with myself and not take the easy way out and think once I moved/traveled I would all of a sudden be happy and lean. Traveling through SE Asia I saw that I was miserable and my misery was of my own doing - I was hot, overweight, out of shape, hair a mess, and had pink eye (that actually really did suck). When I arrived in Bristol none of that magically changed for the better. I was living in a living room with Mike on a blow up air mattress with another couple who had 2 pain in the ass cats with no job prospects for Mike and no idea how to start "doing" fieldwork. Again, my problems didn't just go away once I hit the shores of the British Isles. After 2 weeks of feeling sorry for myself I got going with Mike - hunted down apartments, set up utilities, looked for work and got myself a gym membership. Once I started to take care of my body again - working it to its max and fuelling it with whole foods - other parts of my life started to fall in place. The depression began to lift and I started to see more opportunities appear. Thought do become things so for me working on my body connected to me working on my mind, allowing various positive things to manifest before me.

So back to this challenge - I am doing it to keep my mind and body inline with one another. Especially now that I am starting to write up my dissertation. Gradation is May 6, 2011 and I will be walking across that stage with diploma in hand. The next 11 months are going to be a roller-coaster ride of writing, working, running, lifting, and traveling. I use this challenge as one way of outlining the first 3 months of this longer 11 month journey to ending my student career. Now, first things first - a trail run on this Bank Holiday (aka Memorial Day in the US) and then working on a grant for work. Work it out!

Half Marathon Number 2

2010-05-19T06:11:00.000-07:00

This week marks the start of my 4 month training program for my second half marathon. I'll run the Bristol half September 5, 2010. A flat course around the city I will try to beat my time of 2:52 which shouldn't be that hard to do!

I'm using a different training program and adding on 4 more weeks of formal training to get myself 1) in better shape and 2) a faster time. The last race in Prague was great but my injuries flared up bad at mile 10 causing me to walk the last 2 of the 3 miles. Mental strength was what got me through as my right side was dead on arrival once I crossed the finish line.

Now, I train! Can't lie, my body is hurtin already so going slowly into my mileage is the plan for now. My hips ache at night and my right arch is usually on fire and tight but my pace has picked up quite nicely and I am learning how to stretch and strengthen my weak areas. My visa has tied up a bit of my money so extras like pilates and sport massage have to be put on hold until the middle of the summer once the visa is secured. So until then all I can do is remember what I learned in those sessions and do them on my own. But, it's not so bad to be honest. Running on a schedule gives me structure and helps me balance work, school and life. The fact that I can even still run with the injuries I have sustained makes me amazed at what the human body can heal and endure. So I will start to update my progress once again - the ups and downs, the body fat reduction and the pint consumption (cause really you have to balance the two) until I cross that line once again in the city where I live.

Ok, maybe the rhyming was a bit much but you see what I mean.

Academia

2010-05-18T07:21:00.000-07:00

I'm at work and just finished reading the "The Long Haul", an article published in The New York Times on April 8, 2010. While reading it two paragraphs grabbed me, hit me on the head, and then placed me back into my seat with a new found reassurance in my recent decisions/revelations about my future career prospects. Have a read:
Dr. Pannapacker has rebuked graduate schools for perpetuating a culture in which unattainable academic careers are portrayed as the only worthwhile goal, and for failing to level with students about their true prospects. With more transparency — if every graduate program published its attrition rate, average debt of its students, time to completion, and what kind of job its graduates got — undergraduates, he says, could make more-informed choices.
“Academe encourages students to think of what they’re doing as a special kind of calling or vocation which is exempt from the rules of the marketplace,” he says. Those who look to work outside the scholarly world are seen as rejecting the academy’s core values. “They socialize students into believing they can’t leave academe or shouldn’t, which is why they hang on year after year as adjuncts, rather than pursue alternative careers.”

Now, this is what I am talking about! Over the past year I have been going through a see-saw battle with myself over my future. I am coming to the end of a 10 year run in academics where, when finished, I will have accumulated 4 degrees in the same damn subject (but at least in different sub-fields to give myself some credit). In that time I have been trained to think in these unrealistic, stifling, and bank breaking ways. To mention that I MAY not want to work in academics the rest of my life left many other graduate students and some professors in a tissy - how dare I not want to work the rest of my life in an institution where I work 60+hour weeks for little pay in a competitive environment where only a few people will every read my work and I am always critiqued. Even if I do get to the high status role as a professor I will be 60 and ready to retire since I would have had at least 1 heart attack, 2 nervous breakdowns, a head full of grey hair and a chronic pain in my ass from sitting in front a computer for my whole adult life. Looking at it in this light I realized I am flippin crazy to invest all my time and energy into a disciple that doesn't want to return the love back.

Listen, I am not naive enough to think any career will love me back. But I am also not naive enough (now) to think that just because I obtain this magical Ph.D after 6 years at Michigan State University I will somehow get a fabulous job in a university with my own office and instant respect. And, I am not sure if I even want the dream to come true. Working in the job I have now as part of my research showed me the value of my skills - those skills being reading and writing well. It also showed me there is life and money outside academics...and I like it. I like coming home and (for the most part) having my work stay at work. I mean what a concept - most work is done at work and when you come home you can actually enjoy being at home. I like having my weekends to myself and not worrying about the next paper deadline - ok I still worry since I am in the final year of my dissertation and I need to publish for technical reasons, but you get my drift. I like the work I am doing and I can see the value in marketing the skills I have learned in this long ass process called graduate school. And, you know what I actually want to make some money and do some good and not have my finances dictated by another university, period. No, I don't feel bad about trying to make a comfortable living and enjoying my life.

I guess the point of this rant is to say that there is life outside of the academy. If you do want, or decide to, go into academics I think you need a clear reason why and more than one exit plan once that degree is done. In those different plans realize that non-academic jobs are out there and waiting for your CV/Resume to come into those doors. You will be amazed at what you CAN do OUTSIDE the ACADEMY once you think outside the box. If your argument to me is that higher education breeds knowledge and eduction is the ticket to a successful life I counter by saying the real success is knowing how to use that education to YOUR advantage and not going along the same old tired ass narrative that historically and in the present day is still inherently prejudice. Yes, I have gained plenty of knowledge along the way but knowledge for knowledge sake can be learned outside of four walls as most of the time the knowledge you really want comes outside of a classroom.
NOTE: I do want to add - these are my opinions and I am talking about my experiences within the U.S. I am not attempting to be comprehensive but really to work through how I am understanding my journey in higher education. What I have learned in my time in the academy has been very valuable and I would not change it, but most of it was actually learned outside of the classroom and in my navigation of the politics and discrimination (based on class, race, and gender) inherent within the process. The world "outside the academy" is not going to magically be better but it is a sector that I wish to explore and where I want to utilize my skills - that's all. Having the article in the New York Times speak to issues that are talked about in lounges, coffee shops, and during breaks in class or at conferences is comforting as it lets me know that I am not crazy for thinking the way I do. Work is work and to get anywhere in life there needs to be work done, but I want the work I do to mean something to me and not just be another checkbox on my CV. Having seen a professor have a heart attack over the stress of the job, another be pushed out as chair because others in the department didn't like the "new guys" politics, and having been told to me face that I will never amount to anything in the academy I choose to leave it behind for a while when I am done. I may come back, but for my own sanity and growth the separation between myself and the institution of higher education is one that needs to be done.

Stress

2010-05-13T08:23:00.000-07:00

Stress is a pain in the ass. For me stress has become one of those friends that you know you have to talk to but you really can't stand being around them for more than 5 minutes cause they have a high pitched voice that makes you just want to bash their face into a concrete floor to numb the pain from your ears... Ok, maybe I took that a little to far, but you see what I mean.

I am in the process of organising my first conference. Collaborating with a senior researcher from London Southbank University we are putting on a conference called: Exploring Race and Ethnicity through the Arts on June 10th. I will be debuting my first short story called "Uncomfortable" which Samantha Moy and Celeste Ramos have both helped tremendously on in editing and fine tuning. I submit the story to an anthology of short stories about the experiences of mixed race women in North America. If I am accepted it will be my first published piece! If I am rejected it will be my first rejection of a short story that I submitted as a published piece - so either way a milestone is done.

On top of that I am working 3 days a week for an organisation as a researcher/grant writer/policy analysts/office bitch (oh did I say that), drafting another version of a working paper for online publication, coming up with ideas for an article that I have to submit to a journal within the year as part of my obligations for student visa, and still working on my dissertation which is now going to have be done by May 2011 since one more of my committee members is leaving Michigan State to go onto greener pastures. Then I decide to take up running as a personal sport so am training for another half marathon with a marathon in the works for next March along with trying to shed the last of this baby fat that has been clinging onto my body since birth. Damn, I am tired just thinking about it.

But with all of this comes my good old friend stress. Now I have had a long and hard relationship with this beast - at times it has motivated me and gotten me to finish that last assignment, submit that last grant, or complete that last requirement. Other times it has given me headaches and stomach problems, made my hair start to turn grey, and made me want to go to sleep and not wake up in the morning. Right now stress is making its way back into my life, but this time we need to re-evaluate our relationship. I know people say you should meditate, do yoga, work out, or not take things so seriously. But you know what that advice can flippin annoying sometimes. What if you do take things seriously? What if finding your "chi" is not everyone's cup of tea? I do take things seriously - it is who I am. If I do something and my name is attached to it then damnit I want it done well and with quality. Working with other people to accomplish this will lead to a bit of stress as you negotiate between different perspective and ideas. I do run, but you can only for so damn long in a day before you get tired and running everyday is not an option. Meditation is cool, but I don't do it properly and I can't get my mind to calm down long enough to just "be". Yoga - ah look at my other posts on yoga.

I have to accept that I am a person that can get stressed out, but through the stress I get things done. Now, I am just trying to redirect my stress and not let others dictate where and how I can and should get stressed out. By this I mean I can't let someone else freaking out then freak me out so we are two freaked out hot messes. Trying to email people and negotiate with them on their ridiculous demands and questions can be a stress but I can't let that stress ME out. I'll try that thinking for now and see how it goes. If worse comes to worse I'll go off and find an abandoned log cabin somewhere in the woods and just "be"....for at least an hour and then come back to my email.

Forest

2010-05-04T08:24:00.000-07:00

Sunday afternoon I spent in the woods. With trees all around me and Mike in front of me we walked for a little while through a small part of forest on a massive estate in Bristol called Ashton Court. Although slightly hungover I found the forest to cure my stomach pains as I took in the scenery all around me. The trees were grand with the leaves starting to come out again and the flowers beginning to bloom. A faint smell of lavender hung in the air and the trails were compact enough to walk on having dried up from the rain. And the best part was that we didn't run into a single person while in the forest - only when we were in a clearing and on the open land did we see families with kids and dogs going for a "Sunday stroll" or runners braving the windy conditions to get the miles in. But once we receded back into the forest it was as if time stood still and the only people in the world were Mike and myself with some trees.

It's funny, growing up outside a city made me think that I would only every like city life. The concrete jungle with all its noise, shops, bars, people, stuff seemed like my idea of heaven on Earth. I was to be that city girl with all the bangs and whistles (or something like that). Then something slowly started to happen - I got sick of being around a bunch of people in a hot ass city with no circulation because of the tall ass buildings that looked into other tall ass buildings. I got tired to the price of rent for a box that may or may not include a damn bathroom or kitchen.

But I also began to run and running in a city with nothing but buildings all around you and concrete sidewalks underneath you gets boring and painful real quick. And I moved - moved to a place where the countryside is at my backdoor and I found I really liked it. My stress goes down and my face lights up once I am outside and surrounded by the beauty of a forest. Mountains are cool but to be honest scare the shit out of me. I will still hike them and attempt to climb them but my fear sits at the top my throat and my feet become more hesitant as I am exposed to the harshness that a mountain can bring. But in the forest I am surrounded, embraced really, by the dense trees, grass, and wildlife that creates the landscape. In the abundance and richness of the colors and the peaceful sounds that are produced I find that I am...happy. HAHA. It's a funny thing to just be and then to just be happy and content but on that short walk through the forest I found myself just happy to be where I was. It was nice to know I can go back again and again (with over 850 acres to explore) and its only a 10 minute drive away.

Hair

2010-04-29T07:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was at a book launch in London. Overall it was a good event, the two books being released dealt with transnational families and lone mothers of mixed-race children. Two different research projects, but both conducted within the same department at London Southbank brought there union together for this 3 hours event. This is not the point of this post, but rather a background to explain the conversation provoked afterward during wine and canapes hour (sounds fancy I know!).

I was in a conversation with a couple of older Black women, both of Caribbean descent who now live in London and do research around families and mixedness/race. During our loud conversation one woman brought up the subject of hair. Earlier in the Q and A round a woman from the audience brought up the subject of hair and how white lone mothers felt about doing their mixed race child's hair. The presenter commented that for the white lone mothers it was a big issue as many felt they could never leave the house without their child's hair being done. Otherwise, that would reflect back on them as "bad mothers", especially to black single mothers. So their child's hair became a physical site of surveillance by the community and a sign of being a good mother.

In our little group the two older women began to comment on the politics of hair for them growing up and how that affected the way in which they wore their hair. One woman was constantly reminded of how kinky her hair was while growing up in Jamaica, being compared to her lighter, straighter, "more beautiful" sister. So she rebelled and began to dreadlock her hair and now 30 years later it is still in dreads, but now it is fashionable and her hair is considered "pretty" to some.

I chimed in, retelling the story of my childhood where my dad, every morning before school, would sit me down on the floor between his knees, take out a big brush, put some water on it and squirt a bunch of Pink Oil Moisturizer on my hair and brush it back into one big and puffy ponytail. By the end of the day it would look a hot mess since the who front of my had would frizz up and sit there while the back of my hair laid smooth.

Hair is a defining statement and can say a bit about who we are. I have made it a conscious effort to keep my hair "natural" - refusing the temptations and appeals by others to chemically straighten my hair. I can't lie, I did it once and it burn the shit out of my scalp and left my hair limp and lifeless, necessitating me to have my friend straighten it with a flat iron every time I want to go out to not look like a "Voodoo Queen" as another of my friends so eloquently told me one night. It was after this disastrous run in with a tube of smelly relaxer that I decided to cut my hair off in March 2005 down in Baton Rouge. I hated it at first and soon realized that finding a competent hair dresser would be just as hard as finding an honest lawyer so I went through years of bad cuts, experimenting, trying to find the cut that fit me.

But I vowed never to give into social pressure to have that long straight look. So when I moved to England I toyed with the idea of going short again. I had grown out my hair thinking I wanted it to be long and curly, free to roam on its own accord. After going though 1-2 bottles of conditioner a week and having to sweep my bathroom floor everyday cause of my unruly hair I gave that shit up real quick. I cut the mop just after New Years 2010. I was happy with it, but still felt like it was to much. So one day, about 2 weeks ago, while walking in the city centre on a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon I walked into a salon and asked if they had a specialist who could cut mixed race hair. They did. I think asked if she was free to cut some hair. She was. The result is a short crop to the scalp that I can work with. My statement: I'm tall, brown, educated, and I can rock a shirt cut just as good as any long weave...

Immigrant

2010-04-27T04:31:00.000-07:00

I realize more and more that I am an immigrant. 8 months into my move to the UK my status as "foreigner" is more and more ingrained in my sense of identity. Visa problems, cultural differences, lack of general knowledge of habits and local customs, unable to speak the "correct" language all solidify my status as an "Other" in a way different from my "othering"in the States.

I've been quiet this past month. Coming off my half marathon in Prague I moved into a house in an amazing location outside the city centre, increased my hours at the organisation I am working for, decided that I wanted to start creative writing so began my first short story, wrote a working paper for an online publication series through London Southbank University, and agreed to present once more on May 4th AND co-organize a conference on Race and Ethnicity in the Arts in June in London. So to say the least I have been a little busy. But in this time as well I have had to contemplate about my status in this country as my visa ends at the end of September, 2010.

Coming back from Prague both Mike and I had to go through immigration at Bristol airport. A small airport with just a few immigration officers, one is allocated for non-UK and EU citizens. Mike and I were the only two in the line and after 15, yes 15, minutes of questioning we were allowed to go. My visa is good for 15 months and Mike's for 3, yes 3, years. Nonetheless this woman wanted to make sure we knew we were immigrants in HER country. My visa was questioned up and down - "What is the course you are studying? Why did you want to study in the UK? What do you plant to do when you are done? How are you funding yourself? Why are you working? How many hours a week do you work? What is the pay? Oh, why are you working again?" Question after question left me more and more anxious as I felt I had doen something wrong by coming back into the UK with a LEGAL and VALID visa.

Mike was then interrogated and his questions even harder and more personal. After it was found out that is working 30 hours a week and still in search of a professional Project Engineering job in the middle of a recession the woman whips out her hands and counts on her fingers how long Mike has been in the country without a professional job. After that condescending act she then asks "Well, how are you supporting yourself?" to which Mike responded "Well, with the job I am working 30 hours a week." Then I added, "And I am also helping out with bills since I am funded." To which she replied "Oh, well isin't that nice of you. Carry on."

That performance left me mentally exhausted and utterly pissed off. I do not expect special treatment because I am American and think I have some ingrained right to go wherever I please in the world. On the contrary, I find that behaviour and way of thinking obnoxious and ethnocentric. But what I do find unacceptable and down right degrading is the way in which "foreigners" are treated in the West when they are traveling for legitimate and valid reasons. You don't want me in your country, don't give me a visa to either study of work - period.

But, it has been a good lesson and one in which I know will keep teaching me. I am the "Other" here because of where I happened to be born and raised. Most of the time it is not a real issue, but once the law comes into it my status become more and more real. Presently, I am going back and forth with LSBU about renewing my visa for another year so that I can stay and write-up my dissertation here and defend back in the States next May.

With the new visa regulations, that change literally ever 6 months to get harder and harder, I now have to go through a new set of hoops to show my student status for the extension: £1600 pounds in my account and an electronic letter of acceptance alongside another biometric analysis and £350 application fee. After that year ends the process will begin again to finagle how I can then stay to start my career.

Life is a funny thing isin't it? Logistically my life would easier if I just took my ass back to the States and started a career there. But logistics and happiness do not always go hand in hand. Despite my immigrant status, the problems I always incur with immigration, the fees and taxation these people pay in this country, and the awful food (sorry Brits) I love the quality of my life this country presented to me and that i happily embraced. Being an immigrant has helped me understand the issues and complexities of politics and law around human life and the ideas of human rights. This is translating into my writing and research. So now I end this long rant by saying that people need to think twice before they go on about immigrants and immigration because when it comes down to it immigrants are people with a history and story. Do not let media hype and over sensationalism cloud your judgement on a group of people labeled by the state. In this vein the recent legislative law passed in Arizona is an abomination to basic human rights and we all need to voice concern about the implications that law has in "othering" both nationals and immigrants and what that can do to your basic human rights.

Thanks for reading

It's Been A While

2010-04-09T11:34:00.000-07:00

Since I have written. We have moved into a new house so the last few weeks have been hectic since the half marathon. Soon to come the story behind the move and the pictures of the house and new garden. Stay tuned cause you know you want to know....

Pictures from Prague

2010-03-30T09:26:00.000-07:00

Here is a link to our pictures from Prague. Enjoy!
Prague

Prague

2010-03-30T06:36:00.000-07:00

I ran my first half marathon on Saturday March 27, 2010 in the beautiful city of Prague under partly clouded skies in a sea of 7500 other people. I ran that half marathon in memory of dad who passed on March 29, 2006. In a time of 2:52:11, I crossed the finished line tired, thirsty, hungry, and proud. Proud that I did my training, proud that I made it to the starting line, and proud that I never let negative thoughts cross my mind as I ran in the back for the whole race.

My nerves where on edge before the run. The day of I didn't want to eat - my stomach kept churning and my bathroom breaks became much more frequent. I managed to eat a bagel and a banana, loading up my pockets with my trusty GO Gels and my Ipod. With my water bottle in one hand, my Canadian buff on my head (thanks Zoe!), and my race number pinned to the front I set off, finally crossing the start line 5 minutes after the gun went off.

Surprisingly I felt good for the first part. I ran conservatively for the first 5K, trying to keep a steady pace. For the next 10K my pace picked up a bit. I ran next to various people from time to time, but for the most part I was by myself watching others in front of me or passing them to the side. As I passed each the kilometer marker my confidence kind of grew. I was actually running a half marathon!

Then...I hit...the wall. Or something like it. At 15 K my right leg started to give. My hamstrings had enough, and they were telling me in a powerful way to stop. I hadn't run longer than 10 miles so when I hit that marker and kept going my lower body started to rebel. My dreams of a time of 2:30 went as my run turned into a run-walk which then turned into straight walking for at least 1 1/2 miles. The people around me were also walking, all of us just trying to finish before the emergency vehicles behind us told us to stop.

But, I never had any negative thoughts - I just kept moving. When I saw the 20K marker I knew I was almost there so I made my legs go faster, getting back up to running pace. As I crossed the bridge I saw the crowds cheering and the blue carpet and my legs became faster. I was actually going to finish a half marathon, I told myself. As I crossed the finish line Mike was there with his trusty camera snapping the oh so not flattering pictures of a face twisted in exhaustion and pain. But, I was so happy to see him there. I fell into his arms and said "I am never doing that shit again."

Here I am, 2 days later and still a bit sore. My knees are a bit shattered and the right IT band is not happy, but I did it. And, I plan to do it again in October somewhere in Europe. That race was one of the first times I can remember where I was just being. Although I had my Ipod in, after the first hour I was barely listening to the music. Instead, I was taking it all in - the city, the cobbled stones (which I might add are a bitch to run on), the other runners. I was just there and it was nice: no thoughts of papers, articles, readings, moving, professors. It was just me, my body and mind working together to get through the race. At kilometer 12 I remember looking up into the cloudy sky and asking my dad to help me get through the race and it hit me that running is saving me. Running is saving me from a life of worry and sadness, from anger and self hating. When I run I feel alive, and I feel as if I know why I live. I am not fast now and I don't really need to be (although I will try to improve on that time cause damn it was a long time to be out there on a flat course), but I like the feeling of going out there for a long time and seeing what the body can do. This body is made to move.

Training

2010-03-23T04:47:00.000-07:00

It's been 12 weeks since I started my training program for the half marathon in Prague. On Saturday morning, March 27th, at 11 am my foot will be on the starting line (well in the back of the pack) and I will run my first 13.1 mile race. A flat fast 1 loop course in the heart of the city around the river, the race is suppose to have bands/music every kilometer and beer at the end (what more can you ask for). But, as every cliche sport movies, or your old high school/college coach tells you, it is not about the destination but the journey.

My journey involved a 12 week training schedule that I started January 4, 2010. Beforehand I was working out, trying to shed some weight from my frame and build a decent mileage base. But once January hit I knew I had to get on a training program and then, well, stick to the damn thing until race day appeared. I found a schedule that was do-able for a scared first timer whose longest run ever was a 4 miler, once, when I was "attempting" to train for a half marathon right before I left for a 3 week holiday to Thailand. Needless to say a bad case of travellers diarrhoea on the way back and a long, hard, cold Michigan winter nipped that idea before it ever really got started.

But this time I told myself that I just had to suck it up and do the damn thing. So run I did, along with the strength training and rehab on my hip. With each mile I put in I discovered that I cold actually run! It is an amazing feeling to know that the thing I see "other people who are smaller/faster/younger/older than me" do I can also do myself.

Through running I rediscovered my non academic side - the side of me that just likes to be active for active sakes. To be sweaty and so physically exhausted that by 8pm on a Saturday night my bed looks a hell of a lot more enticing then a pub/bar, nice clothes, or makeup - and I don't feel "lame" or bad about it. I found a new spark in life, even through the stress of fieldwork, reports, talks, and now the dreaded data analysis and write-up phase to come. And you know what...it's kind of nice. It's nice to know that I can release from stress by putting on my trainers and going outside for a run or hike rather than sitting in a pub or in my living room drowning my sorrows in a pint, seeing the pounds pack on around my waist, and then having some more cause I feel overweight.

Now, I am not saying all is perfect in the little land of England - but it is stable and I like that. Writing down in my running journal every run gave me a sense of accomplishment and as the weeks went on I could see my mileage slowly improving along with my times. My feet felt lighter and my waist smaller. The puffiness in my face began to disappear, wiping away the relics of a year of bad habits. I found out over these past 12 weeks that I can start, and now finish, a running schedule.

So after Saturday I'll enjoy 2 days more in Prague, come back to Bristol and move house, prepare an article and a talk, and find another race to run. Keeping the balance between career and personal life is hard at best, but I realised with the right training plan in hand all things can be possible.

Confidence

2010-03-19T06:57:00.000-07:00

Standing in front of 30 distinguished academics, researchers, community organisers, and advanced doctoral students at London School of Economics my stomach churned and my back began to sweat. I took a deep breath and gave a short introduction, rambling on about the conceptual genesis of my dissertation project. Looking down at my written out talk I took a seat, unable to keep myself upright as my nerves went into overdrive. As I plunged into the paper my mouth picked up speed. My mind kept telling me to slow down and draw out the concepts, but my mouth said "F that" and kept on going, trying to make the talk end sooner rather than later. Then, the talk ends...I let out a breathe...and the questions begin. 5 actually, not to many but just enough to clarify points I missed.

Claps ensue and I am done, but why am I still shaking? The organiser comes up to me and congratulates me on the talk, saying it was informative and she wanted me to go last in order to end the seminar with a bang. I say "thanks" and then take a seat next to my friend and mentor in the UK. She looks up and I start to cry. Yea, I said it, cry. Not that sobbing cry, but tears come out as all the emotions from the past month of writing, conceptualising, reading, and stressing spill out in one moment. My friend looks at me and says "Oh, the talk was good, you just talked fast that was all but the content was good." I look back and choke "I can't do this man, I am not cut out for this."

The next day I was fine. After talking with my friend and then my UK advisor/sponsor I realised the talk was actually good, it was just spoken to fast and the material was to dense for a 20 minute talk. But what really came to light was my lack of confidence in my talk, and that showed in my nerves and fast speech. The 5 other presenters all had an aire about them - they spoke with an assurance in the voice that the material they were presenting was accurate and their interpretations valid. Even if criticism was raised they stood their ground and delivered. I, on the other hand, didn't have the assurance or confidence in my material - it was new and I was working through difference strands of thought in order to understand the complex processes of nation-making, racial/ethnic identity, and citizenship in Britain.

It's all about confidence when it comes down to anything. I have to know that I CAN do something and do it WELL. This translates into other aspects of my life - running, hiking, teaching. From this talk I learned that I lack a little bit of confidence in my intellectual abilities. But, if I don't believe in myself than how am I to expect others to believe in me? It's interesting, at one hand I research and teach about the influence and psychological impact institutional racism and inequality have on people's lives and on the other hand I buy into it as I see myself as "less than" my more privileged colleagues. It's a nasty cycle that takes time to work through. So the power of positive thought is a privilege many of us have not learned. We see ourselves in these negative terms that then hinders our ability to progress in ways we wish we could. I forgot that when I prepared this talk, falling victim to self doubt that cripples the best.

I speak again in May at London Southbank University around the same issues and am in the process of writing a working paper to publish online that draws out these complex processes that are in my head. As I prepare these pieces of work I need to find that confidence and believe in my abilities.

Thankful

2010-03-11T07:15:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you just have to give thanks. I am not religious per se, but I am getting more and more into a spiritual place in order to deal with, and understand, this thing we call life. I use to be angry - angry at life for putting me in a body I despised, angry at my mom for being so cold towards me, angry at my dad for not doing anything about my mom, angry at my finances and how hard I had to push to just make ends meet in college and graduate school while others around me had all the support they need. Then, one day I got tired of being angry, being sad, being depressed, and constantly hiding that I was those things through fake smiles and overextending myself to self absorbed others. I don't really know when it happened, but it happened slowly over time sometime after my father passed. It is still happening, everyday as I learn how to turn my anger and disappointment into gratitude. I am learning how to be thankful.

So what am I thankful for? I am thankful I can walk, and now run. My lower back injury left me bedridden 9 years ago in Ireland the third week I was there. I couldn't stand or sit for seven full days. Then one day I was able to walk, although the compromise was a lack of feeling in my right leg. Over the years doctors told me I wouldn't be able to run - the injury was permanent and I may never get feeling back. But, now my base runs are 4 miles with longer runs steadily going up (I have a 9 miler this Saturday).

I am thankful that I don't take no for an answer. Yes, the road I had to travel to get to where I am now was a long one, full of mental anguish and constant battles to be taken seriously as a researcher and anthropologist. But it was that fight, that journey, that has allowed me success today. Without the fights, tears, setbacks and re-workings I wouldn't be able to finish this degree. I found out how much I wanted to get my doctorate with every grant rejection letter and snide comment from fellow graduate students and faculty. Also, by not accepting no for an answer I am learning that my body can do things I only dreamed of a year ago. For that I am thankful.

I am also thankful for my mother. We have a rough relationship to say to least. I did not have the rebellious teenage years one sees in movies or hears about on talk shows because, simply put, I wasn't allowed. I grew up fast as I had to learn to help manage a full house and go to school. As the oldest it was my responsibility to help raise the 4 younger kids, clean the house everyday, and then obtain perfect grades in school. I was to be the first in my family to go to college and finish, period. There was no room for discussion or back-talk. When my father had a stroke when I was 16 and my mom an emergency hysterectomy and 2 knee replacements a few months later I had to run the house. Sports became the one and only outlet I was allowed to indulge in.

College was my escape and I was able to start to figure out who I was outside of my family and my mother's gaze. Yet, when my father died old habits came back and my mother went crazy (to put it nicely). I was now the spawn of the devil, an insolent child that didn't help enough for, after all, that was my role as the oldest. This time I had a voice and I could speak up, respectfully of course, and speak up I did. We went weeks without talking. All I wanted was a mother and I think my mother just wanted her oldest daughter. When I moved to England something happened - my mom started to become a mom. Since November we have been going well, with only a few ups and downs. I have come to be thankful of what my mom went through supporting 5 kids and my dad and what she is doing now to make sure I am ok in a new country. So I am thankful for her, for without that experience growing up I don't think I would have been mature enough to go to college, finish, and continue on.

Lastly, I am thankful to just be alive. Running has brought that feeling back to me - something I let slip far to often in the past. To walk outside, no matter the weather, look around, put on my headphones and feel my feet move from underneath me in a rhythmic manner. Breathing in the cool air I can't help but smile and just be thankful to have seen another day.

So, what are you thankful for?

Music and Memories

2010-03-07T13:13:00.000-08:00

I run to music - I use it to pace myself and to take my mind of the pain. So, my IPod has become an essential piece of my running kit (along with the compression pants, water bottles, and food). With the mileage increasing I am finding it necessary to put more and different music on it to keep the runs interesting and my mind guessing about what song will be next.

Last night I decided to update the play list so went searching on ITunes for more jams. To be honest, music right now kind of sucks - it all sounds the same no matter what genre you go under and the lyrics are less than motivating or inspiring (well, the new Maxwell and Anthony Hamilton are damn fine pieces of work and I have to admit I am a Lady Gaga fan - don't hate). So I started to type in artists I use to listen to back when buying a CD was cool and one of those artists was Wynonna Judd. Going through the songs I came across That Was Yesterday from her 1993 Tell Me Why album. I downloaded the song and put it on my country play list.

Today, about 4 miles into my run the song came on and as her powerful, soulful, country voice went through the song I suddenly had a flashback to Christmas morning circa 1993 or 1994. My dad had surprised me by getting me a new CD player and 3 (yes 3) CDs! A big deal at that time I was excited as I could finally say I had a CD player. The 3 CDs were a compilation of the Beatles, Billy Ray Cyrus' Some Gave All and Wynonna Judds' Tell Me Why album. I didn't care for the Beatles that much but I played that Wynonna Judd CD over and over again, soaking in her voice and wishing I could belt it out like her.

Although I grew up on the Far Southside of Chicago everyday going to school in my dad's FORD (Fix Or Repair Daily as he told me on more than one occasion) van we would listen 99.5 US99 - the country station. So my love of country grew at an early age as my dad would tell me about growing up in Southern Illinois and then moving to Oklahoma for a while. I loved it and I loved him so I associated (and still do) country music with my dad. Today, as I continued on in my run a smile crept upon my face as these memories flooded back into my mind. It's amazing how music can bring back memories, both good and bad. I'll keep this song on my IPod (and keep on running) and hold onto it as another memory of a man I miss everyday.

Thoughts on the road

2010-03-06T08:55:00.000-08:00

I run to clear my mind. I run to strengthen my body and mind. I run to just get away from it all, from the expectations of school, others, even myself. I run even when it doesn't feel good because I know in the end it will feel great. Every time I run I learn more and more about myself, both the good and the bad. As I love to put things in lists below I lay out a few of the lessons learned on today's 4 mile tempo run at The Downs.

1) It's not a good idea to eat spaghetti right before a run: Now I realize why people carb load the night BEFORE a run. I wasn't intending on trying to carb load before a run but I was hungry and the pasta was cooked. It tasted good going down but man after mile 1 my stomach was rebelling as a nice cramp made its way right in the center of my midsection making the run a painful one for the first 20 minutes.

2) Sciatica sucks: Today was actually suppose to be my 8 mile slow run and tomorrow a 4 mile tempo run but after mile 2 (once the stomach stop rebelling) the hip and knee on the right side just had to kick in. A warm burning sensation made its way from my right glute down the lateral side of my leg and wrapping around the knee, continuing on down the lateral side of the calf and ending at the toes (the picture is a great representation of this). With every step the pain became greater, but with every step my mind grew stronger, cancelling out one another long enough for me to finish the first loop. As I began to worry about not being able to run 13.1 miles I remembered that just a week before my 5 mile tempo and 7 mile endurance run went well, reminding me that..

3) Not every run is going to be great, but at least I got out: Pain is in the mind, just as much as it is in the body. Every run is different - some are great and I seem to glide on air as I up my mileage while others hurt from step one and don't get any better as time goes on. Either way, I have to learn how to maintain when the not so great runs come along and make adjustments. Like any sport, most of the race/game/event is in the mind more so than the body. Everyday I imagine myself at the start line, taking off, running the 13.1 miles and ending with a strong stride and smile. Today, after the run I told myself there is always tomorrow and at least I got out and finished the run today. Then, looking down at my finishing time I soon realized...

4) Hot Damn I am getting FASTER: That's right I said faster (not fatter)! As I have mentioned before, I do not have a runners body...and I don't want one. I am looking to lean out, creating strength and definition in my body along the way. But, I am slowly understanding that not having a runners body doesn't mean I will be a slow waddler. During todays run Mike looked at me and said "nice pace." I said to him (or rather snapped cause I was flippin tired and didn't want talk) "well I'm trying to keep up with you!" He promptly replied "um no I am keeping up with you." At the end of the loop I realized that I cut over 45 seconds off my mile time, including a 5 minute walk around 29 minutes to stretch out my hip. My pace is picking up naturally. This is causing my hip to flare up when I am on hard surfaces as my cadence increases. Hence, the 8 mile endurance run today turned into a 4 mile tempo run. Where I could have found a disappointment I actually found out more about myself - I can run and do it a bit quicker. I can keep this up as long as I stick with my new best friend...

5) The foam roller: My new best friend is my trusty foam roller. I get on this baby 2 times a day, laying on my side and rolling over my tight as hell IT bands. By doing this I am trying to loosen up and elongate the essential muscles needed to power through runs. The tightness in the right hip is my body trying to compensate for weak glutes and inner thighs. The pilates and strength training are working, but nothing beats the foam roller. When I neglect it my body pays the price.

Seriously, I am learning to like and love myself again. Running is making me see I can do the things I only dream about and more importantly that I am worth investing in. When I "let myself go" a year ago I was in a dark place (maybe I will write about that more, I am not sure yet). I didn't see my body as a space to take care of because my mind was all over the place, trying to please other people and live up to their expectations. Now, every step I take in my running trainers shows me that I am capable of more. I see my body as a space and place of caring and warmth, not one to dump trash into and destroy. Running is keeping my mind strong, my body lean, and my spirit alive. That was a nice revelation on the road today.

27 days and not a drop to drink

2010-03-03T08:42:00.000-08:00

In 24 days I run my first half marathon. After a good 7 mile run last Saturday and a consistent 3 times a week running schedule (mid distance tempo run, sprint session, and long duration run) with 2 weight training and 1 Pilates sessions a week I feel good about my chances of finishing the 13.1 miles. I am loosing fat and gaining lean muscle and overall feeling much stronger and fitter. But, I have a vice that I find hard to ignore in times of stress, happiness, sadness, celebration, defeat...hell in anything really that I can use as an excuse. Some of you may be thinking cigarettes - no, don't touch the stuff and get sick from smelling it. Others of you may be thinking sex - again no, like doing it but to be honest I can't be bothered sometimes cause I just want to sleep and not put to much effort into it (sorry Mike!).

My vice, my sweet vice is in the form of strong Belgian beers, good smooth wines, and the occasional Scottish mid-price whiskey on the rocks with a dash of coke. Ahhh. liquor how I do love to conversate with you from time to time. Now, I don't actually drink that much anymore - after two I get a bit tipsy and by my third I just want some Chinese and the bed. But, I do like a drink now and then and once that Belgian beer, in all its hoppiness and bite, hits my lips and makes it way down my throat to the pit of my stomach, I am in heaven (well, I am at least happy and wishing I was in heaven). But, lets be real - the older I get the more liquor affects my performance (mentally and physically), and the more in shape I am the harder liquor hits me. One or two innocent drinks on a Friday night leave me in hung over, stomach aching, headache land the next morning. Trust me smelling last nights drinks during an early morning run sweating out through your pores is not a pretty thing at all - especially when the mileage keeps going up and all you want to do is lay down in the middle of the road and hope someone comes by and just runs over you to make the pain go away (ok, maybe I exaggerate a little, but it still sucks).

So, my lips shall not touch a drink until the half marathon is complete. Honestly, this may be a bigger challenge than the half marathon itself! Yesterday walking past a pub after seeing a few houses all I wanted was a pint. Just...one...pint - but I said no and walked on pass and had sushi and green tea instead.

Some of you may be saying - why put yourself through this? Just have a damn pint! But, I want to test myself and see if remaining dry for 27 days helps my performance. Commonsense says it should, but remember Papa Truesdell always said not all sense is common. I guess this is a little experiment of sorts. How good can/will be body feel after not touching booze for an extended period of time? They say it takes 21 days to make or break a habit so after 27 I should be in the "habit" of not drinking...or it will just make that first sip of beer so much sweeter.

Energy

2010-02-25T06:57:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This post has no main point, but I just felt like I needed to write.

You ever get that feeling of restlessness? You know when you are kind of anxious, excited, mind racing a hundred miles an hour and you can't concentrate on the task(s) you need to do to make your life just a little bit easier. I am getting that lately, a lot. I get all these ideas in my head and life just seems to open up with infinite possibilities that can take me in multiple directions at the same time but I am just not sure which direction to go.

Right now life is good. Money is a little tight, but getting better as the weeks go on. My funding is still in limbo for next year as I wait to hear from the Ford Foundation on my dissertation write up grant, but I have 2 others in the UK pending as well that would help me in conducting a social media project on community perceptions of race, class, nation, and identity. I have some contacts, a young Afro-Caribbean British guy from St. Pauls that is active with youth in the community and uses video as a medium to address issues and concerns amongst young people. Everything from employment and violence to issues of skin lightening and hair. On top of that his group, Creative Expressions, created a documentary on the history of Jamaicans in St. Pauls, Bristol - a community with a long vibrant history and a stones throw from my place of work.

I guess I am just excited to see my ideas, ones that I have been afraid to pursue in the past but am gaining confidence with and in my abilities to enact them, slowly come to life. It makes it hard to concentrate as my once "well planned out" future is now looking more and more uncertain. What will I do when I am done? I have no idea, all I can do is keep on working towards the first (and not end) goal of completing the dissertation and getting my Ph.D May 2011. I guess that in itself is a change because I always saw that as the end goal - but I'll won't even be 30 so why did I "stop" my life at the time?

I have been reading a bit about the split and antagonism between intellectualism and activism. I don't know if I can just "be" and intellect and not advocate for a cause or group of people. The disconnect between the communities academics study, and the use of that data for academic gain is to much - how can I go into a community, take from it, its ideas, thoughts, concerns, joys, fears, happiness, sadness, and not contribute back? That is something I had been thinking about more and more as I get deeper into the "thick description" of ethnographic fieldwork. My "informants" are well versed in their rights, opinions, and placement in society and do need an academic coming in and "translating" their subjects for a different audience. Hmmm, but then I see myself as a medium through which different ideas can be put forth in a society dominated by select voices. I don't know and I guess that is point - I have to figure that out as I continue with the fieldwork - reading, talking, thinking, laughing, sharing, analyzing, writing in the end it will come together and be the start of a career in something. But for now I am trying to channel this energy I seem to have obtained and finish one task that will make my life easier - a talk I am to do in 3 weeks times in London.

Lessons Learned from a Trail Race

2010-02-22T05:11:00.000-08:00

I ran a 10.4K trail race yesterday. Well, let me rephrase that...I SIGNED UP for a 10.4K trail race yesterday. I only finished the 5.4K part of it - 1 loop. The race was hard, pure and simple. A trail run through snow and mud with the first half on an incline, the second half a decline with 2 loops to get the 10.4K (or 6.4 miles) done.

As I began the race I soon realised I was out of my element. The people around me all had various running club t-shirts and tank tops on. Some wore trail shoes, but most trainers. All looked like they knew what to expect and how to run the race. I on the other hand wanted to throw up, get back in the car, and try again another day. As the 10.4K began and I made it to the first kilometer mark it set in that I wasn't going to be able to do both loops and would be happy just making it around once in one piece. With no one around me (unless they were part of the 15.4 K heat and were passing me on all sides) I tried to just take in the scenery - a beautiful forest with tress shooting up to the sky, little streams on all sides trickling down from the numerous larger lakes, signs warning of wild boar and horse riders, and me in the middle of it all huffing and puffing like a 40 year-old beer bellied man (not that anything is wrong with 40 year old beer bellied men mind you).

When I made my way back after just one lap I wanted to cry - pure and simple. My right hip was on fire, feeling as if someone was sticking a hot needle into the the hip joint over and over again. My right knee completely throbbing, being pulled far to laterally to compensate for my tight IT band and weak inner thigh muscles. And, let's be real, my ego a bit bruised once again as I had to admit defeat. But, all was not lost as, on the 50 minute ride home, I realised I learn a great deal from this race.

1) It's hard making races into training runs: I intended to have this race be another training run. My half marathon schedule had a 10-K race planned for week 10 of training. But, since there were no races in the area at that time I had to move it up by 2 weeks. This was not a good idea overall because I have not run a 7 or 8 miler yet - mileage that would have helped me on this 6.4 mile run on trails. But, even if I had run this race at the "right time" is hard to make a race into a training run once you are in the race itself. Trying to run a slow easy pace to get the miles in is counterintuitive when everyone else around you is geared out and looking to break PBs, or get close to a PB. Once I took off from the starting line the distance between me and the first runner in front of me was at least 45seconds to a 1 minute - a large spread that I never decreased.

2) Trail running is 10 times harder than road running: Well this is kind of common sense but I really had no idea the effort needed to get the legs going on uneven snowy AND rocky AND muddy ground. After 1 K my legs were already growing heavy as they were trying to get use to the more lateral motions needed to maintain an upright posture on the run. You can't use times from road races and try to make that time on the trail. Plus 6 miles on the road is a hell of a lot easier than 6 miles on the trails. I underestimated the amount of energy I would need to make it around this loop twice, which leads me to my next point...

3) When running trails, trail shoes are a good idea: I had on my road shoes - a pair of neutral Asics gel shoes that I intend to run my half marathon in. I rotate between them and a pair of Brookes. A good solid shoe with moderate cushioning, my Asics serve me well on the road. But on a trail the thick sole and lack of traction left me sliding a bit and skidding alot. The uneven surface made the thick sole more of a hazard - trail runners are low to the ground and highly flexible allowing the foot to move and breath and allowing you to feel where you are going. Strong ankles and glutes are a plus then once you get more on the trails, but for me my sciatica and weaken right glutial muscles were MAD AT ME the more I ran, especially up hill, making my shoes more of a hinderance. But, the uneven, snowy, slippery terrain did force me to make bigger strides on the downhill grades making me realize...

4) I can go faster by taking larger steps: (This really sounds like commonsense, but as my Dad would tell me not all sense is common). When I was hiking up Snowdonia on New Years Day I was out of my comfort zone. On the side of the mountain, exposed all around with snow as a far as the eye could see I froze up. On the descent my fear hindered my speed, making the downhill portion a painful experience with my baby steps and inflamed right hip. I was afraid of taking larger strides, imagining my tall ass plummeting to my death on the side of the mountain. During the run, to my surprise, I took bigger strides unaware and unafraid of my potential of falling face first in the snow and mud. Although slow, I was focused on making it around the damn loop before 40 minutes - a slow enough time as it was. In doing so, especially on the downhill, I opened up my stride and flew (well relatively speaking). I could feel my legs turning over in a steady manner, my feet connecting with the earth in a steady rhythm, my breath keeping a nice beat. In those brief moments I felt like a proper runner and the fear left my body. Then the glory would fade as I realised I was being lapped again and again, which then made me realize...

5) You can't compare yourself to other people, especially to your partner: This is really a life lesson that I have to tell myself everyday, over and over again. I can only do what my body and mind allow me to do. Right now I am getting back into running after cheating on it with food and drink for over a year. As such running is making me earn back every last bit of our relationship. Standing on that start line I knew I was out of my element - no where near as fast or experienced at the people around me, including Mike (who by the way ended up 3rd overall for the 5.4K). I let that psych me out just as I had hiking in Snowdonia a few weeks back. I can't compare myself to someone else and then expect to go out and run the best race I can run. It is not about competing against someone else, but rather competing against myself to see where I can take my mind and body. I realised that slowly as I came to the finish line and wanted to cry. I knew that I had tested my limits for that day, but there there were many more days to come. Which leaves to me my next point.

6) It's OK to walk: I had it in my mind that runners run and so there is no room for walk breaks during a run. Well, that is kind of true if you have been running for years, have the mileage under your belt, been trained to run different events, AND know the differences between tempo, speed, race-pace, and endurance runs and incorporate them all in a weeks training. But, when you are coming back in to the sport, or starting off for the first time, you have to get your body use to the pounding and damage you will be doing to it. As I am heavier runner still working on loosing the body fat AND body weight with a slight sciatica problem I have to get use to incorporating walks into my longer runs until my body can handle the higher mileage. That requires me not being self-conscious and taking the walking breaks. During the trail run I took more walk breaks than usual, getting my legs use to the different terrain, and I didn't like doing it afraid of what others were thinking of me when they passed me. But, like I say in point 5, I can't compare myself to others and so need to tak the walk breaks until my body both gets use to the mileage and becomes lighter over time. Overall...

7) I like trails more: Although harder, dirtier, slower, and more unpredictable I really like being in the forest and on the trails. I can't get too down on myself. I ran this 3.4 miles in the same time I ran the 3.4 miler at last weeks race showing me that I am actually getting a little faster (even with walk breaks)! But I like being in nature and seeing how my body reacts to the obstacles and challenge nature gives me. Mike and I plan to buy a pair of trail runners and after my half marathon start working on trail running and races. Who knows, I am turning into a runner after all...

Facelift

2010-02-18T04:31:00.000-08:00

For those that have not noticed I decided to give my blog a little face lift. I never really liked the colors or layout of my blog, but couldn't be bothered to redecorate. Well, in the name of procrastination (I am suppose to be writing a talk on my theoretical framework for my dissertation for a conference at London School of Economics next month right now) I decided now was the best time for a change. Although not quite there yet I do feel this is more my style. So, instead of reading about DuBois and double consciousness and how I can relate that to ethnic and national identity in Britain I will prowl the web looking at templates and learning more about HTML formatting. Damn I can't wait till this talk to be over!

Oh and give me feedback on the new look if you don't mind!

5K for Valentines Day

2010-02-14T07:51:00.000-08:00

I am a runner - I may be slow, knock-kneed, a bit tall, and "stocky" for the running world, but I am a runner. As the weeks go on I am slowly (and I mean slooooowly) gaining confidence in that assertion. To put my running skills to the test Mike and I signed up for a 5K run the day before Valentine's Day in Cardiff, Wales.

Overall the race was OK. I never got into a rhythm so felt tired and heavy. We left Bristol in plenty of time to find the race, get parking, and warm up. But, construction in the area led to a change in the start/finish line. I forgot to print off the latest race map so we had to rely on our memories to figure out where to park. That would have been fine if there had not also been a HUGE rugby match between Wales and Scotland going on the same day in the same location, across the street from the park. This just made us more confused as to where to go. But I did enjoy seeing the Scottish fans decked out in amazing kilts and hats, sporting their love of the game and their team (and for some reason I find a man in a kilt very sexy...)

But we found the parking lot, and a map of the new start/finish line next to the pay station made my nerves calm down for a while. That is until I realized we were walking on the other side of the river, away from the start. With only 20 minutes till kick off I was growing cranky, afraid that we were going to miss the whole 5K. Mike stopped another runner who we thought knew where to go - turns out she is Canadian and also a bit lost (of course we find the one Canadian in Cardiff)! Needless to say, after a few more inquiries we were pointed in the right direction - to bad the parking lot was a mile way from the start of the race . Who in the hell plans a race with the parking and start line a third of the distance of the whole race? So our "warm-up" became a quick jog to the start line.

Once there we had 2 minutes till the start. My 1 hour free time had quickly dissipated to 2 minutes. I don't know why but I was annoyed, agitated, and just wanted to sit down and pout like a little kid. IT'S NOT FAIR!!! But I got over it once the gun sounded and people took off. The 5K "fun run" of this larger 10K race was un-chipped meaning I was not going to get an "official" time so I started my stop watch and tried to just take the run as a practice race to test my pacing and see if the illness I suffered from over the past week was going to affect my performance.

It was a nice sunny day - windy as hell, but nice nonetheless. I just never got into the run. It was strange but I could feel the affects of being sick off and on for 3 weeks in my legs. They...just...wouldn't...GO. I was in a pack by myself with runners 30 seconds ahead of me and 30 second behind me. I was hoping for someone near me that I could try to keep up with, using them as my pacer and, if big enough, as a wind guard. But as luck would have it I was by myself. After about 27 minutes I had to take a 1 minute walk break. I couldn't see the finish line and thought I must really be slow. By 30 minutes I was confused, knowing that the finish must be somewhere close, as there was no way I was running anything slower than 12 minutes/mile. Then it dawned on me - the damn course was a lot longer than 5 kilometers! At the 5K point the signs had us turning back to the finish line, another 0.5 miles away! Including 2 minutes of walking I clocked a 34:58 minute 5K, but 40:30 minute overall race. I was ok with the 5K time as I just wanted to get my time between 11:20 and 11:30 minutes/mile - a pace I want for the half marathon and one in which I know I can finish the race. But damn, it would have been nice to know AHEAD OF TIME that the 5K race was actually a bit longer than that.

As I crossed the finish line I saw Mike there holding a red gift bag. I came up to him and asked if we got a prize at the end of the race and he looked back at me, smiled, and said "No, I won the 5K and so got a bottle of wine!" At that moment all the annoyance, tiredness, and fatigue left my body and I gave him a big ass smile. With a time of 27:36 Mike had managed to cross the finish line before any other 5K fun runner. Even though I was disappointed a little with my time and the organization of the race, I was so happy for Mike that all that went away. So I come back to where I started and say again that I am runner. Although I am slow, knock-kneed, a bit tall and tad "stocky" I can run with the best of them (even if it is a few minutes to the rear). But Mike gave me some perspective in his victory. A volunteer made a comment to Mike as he stood waiting for me to cross the finish line. The guy was excited that Mike won cause, as he put it, "it's nice to see a bigger guy with speed winning these things." Mike does not have a "typical" runners body. Although he is leaning out Mike still carries alot of muscle which adds more weight to his body and should, theoretically, slow him down. Yet it doesn't - the muscle actually gives him endurance and power to kick through a race, making him a serious competitor in sprint races (and I am also a little bias cause I kind of like him). When I see Mike running with other skinny medal winning runners I think to myself, "self I can run a little bit faster." So next race I am going to try to do just that and not place myself in this box that says tall, stocky, knock-kneed people can't be good runners. I'll let you know if it works:)

Health while running

2010-02-11T11:04:00.000-08:00

I have 6 weeks until I go to Prague, put my foot on the race line, and attempt to run 13.1 miles in 2 1/2 hours (my goal). Now, over the past few years I have wanted to do a long distance race. Don't ask me why but it has always been a dream of mine to compete in endurance races. To test the limits of my mind and body. For so long I participated in team sports with games every weekend and practice everyday - a constant state of competition, against other teams in the hopes of a victory and against teammates to keep a spot on the court rather than the bench.

As I approach 30 years of age in a year I realize I am tired of competition. I have to compete for funding to do my research, compete to gain and then retain a job. I don't want or need to compete in sports as well, I just need to push my own limits and "compete" against myself. What can I do? How far can I go? Will my body hold out? Call me crazy but this excites me much more now than lacing up my gym shoes and stepping onto the volleyball court and proving myself to others. I miss the sport, don't get me wrong, but my mind and body are just not there anymore. At this time I find the lure of half marathons, marathons, trial races, ultra races, mountain hiking exciting - I can't suppress the smile as I think about this.

But (and there is always a but) it also seems as if my fear and apprehension is also impeding these dreams. A few years back I began to train for a marathon while studying in Baton Rouge for my Masters. I had begun to focus on my own personal health, loosing weight and taking up running. But as I began to slowly increase my miles my fears played up and I became "sick" - my body slowly taking on aches and pains that "forced" me to stop running. Stop I did. Then in the second year of my Ph.D I began to run again, signing up for 5Ks whenever I could. I was lean, mean, and tan (well until the winter came) - but again I became "sick." After a trip to Guatemala I came back and found out I had a parasite that left my stomach in knots - not pretty but not really life threatening (just the runs from time to time). The doctor said I could run, just not long distances because of the stomach and the fact that my body was not "made" to run. My knock-knees and tall frame were seen as abnormal for the running world so I gave in and stopped.

Now, I am down 10% body fat and 2 stones (about 28 lbs). I have been running since September along with weight/bodyweight training and rehabilitation to strengthen my core. Overall I feel stronger, look better and am enjoying my life. But (and there is always a but) it seems as if a part of me is trying to sabotage my own goals. For the last 3 weeks my body is rebelling - first random bruises on my legs and excessive tiredness, then an increased resting heart rate (from 49 to 79), then a sore throat and sore ears with a cough (that likes to kick in when I am sleeping), and today nausea, upset stomach, diarrhoea, and achy joints (I sound like a damn Pepto Bismol commercial).

It could be I am overtraining or that my drop in body fat is leaving my immune system weak during the winter. Who knows, but what I do know is that I don't plan to give in. I paid the entrance fee, bought the plane tickets, booked the hotel, have the training journal with a 12 week plan, and have the drive to finish. So I guess there is still a competitive edge in me - I can't stand to give up on something that I told everyone I am doing. Therefore, I'll keep posting on this blog, on Facebook, in emails, on the phone and in person that on March 27, 2010 I will be running a half marathon in Prague with the goal of finishing and proving to myself that I am a runner.

Mixedness

2010-02-09T05:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I attended a workshop in London centered around research focusing on mixedness. The aim was to gather Ph.D students and junior faculty and have this group discuss, both in a large group and smaller seminar groups, methodological and conceptual issues that arise when conducting research around mixedness. Needless to say the workshop left me tired, annoyed, pissed off (rather than pissed on), and with a headache that only a nice cup of tea, a warm chair, trash tv, and some sweatpants could cure.

The concept of mixedness is a troubling one to define - but a definition or mutual starting point is necessary in order to have engaging and meaningful conversation(s). That was the first problem with this workshop - it was open to various disciplines with numerous definitions and focuses (or none at all), with a lack of focus on how to talk about research that uses mixedness as a conceptual tool. Whereas I examine how mixedness is used in the recreation of British national identity, and the implications that has on the ground with ethnic/racial identities, others at the conference were interested in motherhood experiences and having mixed race children, single mothers with mixed race children, mixed disabilities households, mixed religious households, psycho-social and clinical experiences of mixedness, and to top it all off one woman was interested in examining the mixing of paint and other artistic materials in the creation of expression (yes, she was serious and at this point even my ass was hurting).

Now, I can handle this to a certain extent. But what really troubled me was the presentation given after lunch and before we were to split up in our small groups once again by an older mixed race sociologist/clinical psychologist on the pain of being and claiming a mixed race identity. Her 20 minute talk outlined the stuggles, negative experiences, confusion, societal disconnect, and overall pain and suffering of individuals who are mixed race black/white. In her conceptualisation of mixedness she focused on the horrors of black/white mixed race experience, her own pain evident in her shaking hands and strained voice, drawing on sociological and clinical theories and research that back-up and support this dominate paradigm. As I sat there listening to her dismantle the validity of self-identifying as mixed race because it undermines the unity and strength of blackness I felt me chest grow tight and may hand form into a fist.

Does mixedness automatically mean mixed race and mixed race experiences? Why, why do we have to rehash this same old tired story of pain and confusion when we talk about mixed race? Why does mixed race mean only black and white? Why if you are of this mixture must you identify as black or be seen as a race traitor? More importantly - why is there no interrogation and/or reformulation of blackness that allows a place and space for mixedness in its construction (along with homosexuality, femininity, rural life and a host of other aspects of identity)?

Growing up in the far South side of Chicago with a white stay at home father and working black mother I saw my difference as part of who I was. But in reality my mixedness was, and is, only one aspect of who I am - as it is with anyone else. Identity is a tricky complex thing that no one has a clear head around. So to hear a mixed race woman who identifies strongly as black because of her inaccessibility to mixedness as a identity is sad - but it is not the only story of mixed black/white individuals, and that lens in not the only way in which to understand, interrogate, research, and disseminate mixed race experiences. The narrative of the tragic mulatto must change if we want to expand research and really engage with current processes of racial identity. Yesterday's workshop made that very clear - so I can say confidently that I identify as mixed race and black - the two are not mutually exclusive and they can and should share the same space, especially within the context of America (that is a whole other discussion for another time).

Within research we need a rigorous interrogation and examination of the various ways in which the concept of mixedness is used - not just dismiss the issue as unimportant or make the concept so big that it includes everything from identity to paint. So I hold onto mixedness as a conceptual tool and I seek to understand how the state (the literal government and not some postmodernist idea that says you can't define it cause if you cant define it why look at it?) uses mixedness as a political tool to re-imagine and redefine Britishness in order to make Britain a fair equal society while at the same time legislation is making many within black and ethnic minority communities feel more excluded. So, when focusing on mixed race experiences please let us move the conversation on, allowing space for issue of pain when needed but also of acceptance and just the everyday.

To tweet or not to tweet...that is the question of the hour

2010-01-31T10:35:00.000-08:00

Twitter - this is a word that makes me shiver. I recently helped facilitate a social media training workshop for the organization I work for in Bristol. The first half of the training focused on twitter - what it is, how to work it, and how to make it work for local and regional voluntary and third sector organizations in the Southwest. Although a useful channel in which to dispense information to a large audience I just couldn't see how twitter would be useful for me personally. I always saw the thing as a way for people to be more self absorbed, thinking others cared about their every move and need to read about it instead of actually engaging in real human contact (ok maybe I am sounding a little old fashion there).

Well more and more I am being told by close friends that twitter would be a good medium to use in order for more blog exposure. I don't know for sure where I will end up work wise once I am done with this Ph.D. but I do know that no matter what I do I will continue to write. Write about life, experiences, fears, new adventures, fictional stories...the list is endless but writing, for me, has become apart of my identity. If I can improve and find a niche that I can fit into then I would also like to make a bit of money off it in the form of book writing and selling. So exposure is needed and thus the question: to tweet or not to tweet?

But, am I ready to open up my networks and be faced with both praise (I hope) and criticism (which I am sure I will get)? Hell, I guess so. I have lived with constant criticism and few praise for my academic writing and logic for years - only recently receiving more praise. Although the content of this blog is more personal than professional a little bit of criticism can only make my writing stronger (right?). So I guess it is time to get with it and open up my twitter account in the next week or so and start to tweet my way to more exposure. Will you follow me?

Sleep

2010-01-30T17:12:00.000-08:00

I miss sleep. That peaceful time of the night when your body is relaxed, your mind is at ease, and the comfort and ease of sleep takes over. Lately, anxiety and worry has interrupted this bliss causing my resting heart rate and blood pressure to increase - even as my body gets in better shape (which is a big pain in the ass if you ask me). The minute I close my eyes my mind begins to race and my body tighten as thoughts of money, career, research, life all enter at once. One image jumps to the next and I am left with a body and mind that feels more exhausted once the next day appears. Coupled with the lack of sunshine I feel as if I wake up and go to bed in the dark.

Bottom line, money is tight as it is for everyone. Although I know that the move to Bristol was a much needed one for Mike and myself I can't help but wonder if I made a mistake in allowing Mike to quit a good paying job in Michigan and come to a country that is still in the mists of an economic recession (and then come to the part of the country that has been hit the worst by the economic downturn). We are stronger as a couple, but the strain financial and mentally on me to sustain the household is wearing me thin. I am now maxed out at 20 hours a week - all the hours my visa will allow me to work - on top of the 20-30 hours a week I spend on my own research plus the training for the half marathon and the rehab for my back. Mike is looking and looking, but the doors are just not opening. I mean even B&Q (the Home Depot of the UK) turned him down, telling Mike his personality was to big for a job working the till! So he continues everyday to look for jobs, making calls to everyone he can in the hopes of landing a position. Honestly, things could be a lot worse and I am glad for the support I am getting from my mom which is unexpected and unusual considering our up and down relationship.

But in the meantime I have to learn how to not worry so much. As I get closer to my goal of graduating in May 2011 I get more and more scared. How am I going to finish? Will I get a job? Why did I decide to do a Ph.D. in Anthropology (well hell at least it is not in Philosophy or Romance Languages)? How in the hell am I going to pay off my MASSIVE student loans if I don't get a job? Will I be able to stay in the UK? Can I see myself back in the US? I mean WTF?!!!! I know, I know a little manic but really all I want is to sleep.

In the meantime I guess I just have to think positive. That is really all I can do. I can keep on working -through this job I am learning so much more and applying the skills I obtained in school to a "real world" job which hopefully will make me more marketable. To be honest, without Mike I couldn't do any of the things I am doing now. His support keeps me going day in and day out and for that I am deeply grateful. In the end this should all pay off - but for now I will try to sleep and take each day on step at a time. Good night...

Just Lean Back

2010-01-27T06:20:00.000-08:00

Looking up and then down I realized that I had nowhere else to go. I feel my legs and lower back becoming stiffer, a result of the strength training session I completed just an hour beforehand. My arms are heavy from maintaining this position for longer than needed. I call down "I'm stuck and done." Brooke shouts back "I got you, just lean back and let go." My mind starts to race as I imagine myself letting go of the security the wall has to offer, but I have no where else to go! I can't stay here hanging all day and the place is so damn cold I feel my toes becoming numb. So I reply "Yes mam" and lean back, putting all faith in the rope and in Brooke. My feet slowly walk down the wall and I find myself back on the ground. I just completed my first indoor rock climb (over 1/3 up the climbing wall) and belay down. And you know what...it was a rush like no other. I can't suppress the smile that creeps along my face, so I let it stay and ask to go up one more time before we leave. Last time up, I go just a bit further and then belay down again, ever so gently releasing my fingers from the grips implanted into the wall. God damn it I think I may just be turning, ever so slowly, into a climber...

Pain in the Ass...literally

2010-01-20T07:24:00.000-08:00

My body - it is a strong, powerful, explosive entity that is also fragile, weak, and becoming a big pain in the ass. I stand at 6 feet 3 inches, a height that is perfect for retrieving items placed in tall places, for shooting balls in various baskets or spiking them across nets, for looking down at students who want to challenge you on a grade you gave them, and for wearing long dresses and flare jeans (if you are woman or just like dressing as well). But it is not a height made for squatting for long periods of time or for certain gym machines or for airplane seats (don't even get me started on 5'3 passengers who insist on the exit row seats for 12+ hour flights and my tall ass is relegated to the back in a cramped plane with a beer bellied man in front on me who insists on reclining his seat for the WHOLE DAMN PLANE - but I digress).

But really, I am ok with my "abnormal" female frame. However, what I am finding out is that this height comes at a price - a bad back that likes to act up during exercise and now sciatica that leaves me with a pain in me right ass that just won't go away. Now I am not saying that because I am tall I am destined for back pain. On the contrary the bad back comes from playing a sport in which my height was valued - one of the few places in which I was comfortable and proud of my stature. But the constant jumping and explosive moves required on the volleyball court were to much for my frame (that was bigger than is should have been for college sports) and eventually led to a compressed disk and pinch nerve down my right leg. It was left untreated for 2 years due to incompetent doctors who insisted that "a female of my frame tends to get a lack of feeling in their lower extremities due to muscular over development" or as I now interpret it "you are only a female so you can't really have a serious college sports injury and let's be real you are too freakin tall and we all know tall females are just destined to be in pain so deal with it and that will be $500. Hope your insurance pays for it." Essentially, the preconceived notions and stereotypes about tall women led to a misdiagnosis and uninterested in a serious injury that, if I were a man in college sports, who have been taken more seriously. Challenge me if you like, but I have seen it time and again.

Once I found a doctor to actually listen to me it was uncovered that I have actually slipped a disc that broke 2 spinous processes in my lower lumbar, pinching my L4 nerve in my right leg leaving me numbness, tingling, and atrophying of the muscle in the right thigh. I played on that injury my senior year of college as a starting right-side and co-captain and was made to feel as if I were making up the pain. When I finally received that diagnosis I was actually glad because if finally proved that the pain was not in my head or because of my "abnormal" height, but in my back. 5 years since that diagnosis the pain is chronnic, but manageable as the discs in question healed themselves by shrinking, leaving 2 flat black discs in place of the once full white ones. That helped alleviate the pressure on my nerve giving me back a little feeling in the leg but forcing me to quit the sport that I love due to the lack of stability and cushioning in my lower. In place of organized team sports that involve pounding someone or something I moved on to individual sports that test my own physical and mental endurance, starting with this half marathon and entry-level mountain climbing.

Yet, my body is not as strong as it needs to be to handle this level of pounding. Hence the sciatica - a consequence of my body adapting again to my weakened lower back by tucking my pelvis bones under to handle more load. That worked for while, but when I decided to stop being lazy and start working out again the running and lifting proved to much to quick and my body let me know with a sharp pain in my ass and knee that left me frozen in agony just before the New Year in a training session.

What do I do now? What I have now been told is that I need to stand taller and elongate my frame to alleviate the sciatica ass pain - a concept that I already knew but is now making me comes to terms more with my height. After every osteopath session I leave standing taller - her manipulations allows my spine to straighten more and the muscles relax. I feel good standing taller - I can breathe deeper and my digestion functions better. With pilates as my rehab prescription (which I start tomorrow and should be interesting) I am guaranteed to stand even taller as my core becomes a stronger part of this body. I will have to come face-to-face and reconcile with my height - which in itself may be a big pain in the ass. Bring it on.

Give Back

2010-01-14T04:41:00.000-08:00

Haiti has been hit by a massive earthquake with devastating consequences. The New York Times, CNN, and The Times London are all reporting an estimate of at least 100,000 dead and more still to come. The pictures are shocking, leaving many to tears as the world is given photographic evidence of the pain and suffering. In these times of crisis it is up to everyone to come together and pool resources to help those in need. Yes, in a month's time the people of Haiti will most likely be forgotten by the media and push to the back of people's minds. But, for now we must stop the cynical nature and push forth a more humane view. So, what can you do to help?

DONATE: Whether it is money, time, clothes, food. Everyone can help by giving. If money is short and you have a family to feed then look through your closets/wardrobes and see what you haven't worn in a while and give it the Salvation Army, Red Cross, Goodwill, or any other body that is giving aid to Haiti. Look through your cupboards and food that can be spared don't throw away - just give it to a charity. And if you have an extra $5 or $10 lying around then put to good use and send it to a local group you know will help in this time. Please, let us not forget that apart of being human is to be humane and the people of Haiti need some humanity.

Places to Donate:
1) Partners in Health

2) The Red Cross

3) Doctors Without Borders or in the UK go here

4) In the US Wyclef Jeans' Yele organization will allow you to text 501501 to donate and the sum will be added to your next phone bill

5) The Disaster Emergency Committee

6) Any other local group you know that is giving relief to Haiti

I know some of you wish you could go and give your help on the ground, but if that is not possible at this time then give your support through money, clothes, supplies. In the future remember these emotions and channel them into volunteering and community help either abroad or at home. We can't forget the humanity part of being human - something that happens far to often. If you have anymore organizations you know of then please share. Have a good day

Mind Block

2010-01-13T07:00:00.000-08:00

I sit here today unable to do work. I try and try, but my mind just floats away to ideas far removed from the article I am trying to enter in EndNote on theories of citizenship and liberal democracy in the UK (but really whose wouldn't given the content). What am I thinking about...what else...LIFE.

I am having one of those weeks (and it's only Wednesday) where I really don't know what I am suppose to be doing with my life. I am running despite the cautions from my osteopath and for the most part that is going well. I have signed up for a 5K road race and 10K trail race in February with Mike - again two events that I am looking forward to and plan to do well in. But, the other parts of my life I am feeling unsettled. Research is good - I can't complain to be honest. I have interviews done with more to come, a good work environment that will only help the ethnography, a few talks lined up, support for article publications, and at least one grant in progress and waiting for the outcome of another grant in April. But when I look at that sentence I am not excited - grants, articles, reading all day long in a room by myself, writing (well I quite like the writing so that's ok). Maybe it is this new found pleasure I have gotten in my bones for the outdoors that is leaving my anxious or maybe its the weather with its short days and long nights. I don't know but I want to DO something other than research and I want to do it now.

But, you don't always get what you want when you want it and I can be an impatient person. So I will keep sitting here, plugging away at this article and chipping away at the research that will ultimately get me a Ph.D by May 2011. What I found out though is that by me really putting myself out there and doing activities I never thought I could do I am finding my past plans for my future to be quite dull and not fulling- which I guess is the growing up process. I don't think I can spend the rest of my life just "doing" research. Why would I when there is more of a world out there to explore? This is making me more and more antsy - it is like my body is revolting against this chair and desk routine that I have been performing over the past 10 years. Sitting for too long makes the sciatica act up, but moving all day makes the pain go away. My tall frame can't handle the slouching for hours on end as I write and read more and more theory, policy, and grants. Maybe I need a poster like this on my wall to keep me going.

Hell, who knows but I guess it is time to get back to what makes me some money and lets me keep my visa. Now where am I..."feminist framework criticized liberal citizenship models, and their egalitarian theories of distributive justice, as gender blind and androcentric..." oh screw it I think I'll get a cup of tea first....

Holiday Challenge RESULTS

2010-01-11T03:00:00.000-08:00

So around 50 days ago I wrote about a holiday challenge I was participating in. Well, the holidays have come and gone and with them so have 13 lbs been lost, 4.5% body fat gone, 7.75 inches lost, 1.84 lbs lean muscle gained and 16.44 lbs of FAT SHED from my body frame!!!! If you haven't guessed I am a little excited because since I began to focus on my health and body fat September 24, 2009 I have dropped (and don't want to pick back up) 26 lbs and 8.79% body fat.

But, what makes this time around so different you might ask? I actually am doing it the right way for the first time. That makes a huge impact on lifestyle changes, allowing me to change my attitude and relationship with food. In the past I focused on weight loss programs that only dealt with food and discouraging exercise. Then I worked at two weight loss camps that, although encouraged exercise, did not allow me to function in the "real world" of balancing a new lifestyle with the stress of school and work. So once I left that safe environment, over time, the weight piled on and the workouts became less. Now, I am working - collecting data for my dissertation, writing grants, drafting articles, compiling presentations, and interning with a local third sector organization. To be honest, it is a lot but I am learning to balance that workload with other activities - running, hiking, attempting to learn to climb (with attempting being the key word) - that keep me sane and allow me to see the bigger picture. Life is not all about work, and this is something that is so easy to lose sight of. I don't need to devout all waking hours to reading, research, and writing and I can still be a "good successful anthropologist/academic" (whatever the hell that means). More importantly, I am learning that I don't need to sacrifice my health and happiness to succeed - cause really what is the point of "success" if you are constantly tired and miserable, and is that even really "success"?

The Tom Venuto book, Burn the Fat Feed the Muscle and The Body Fat Solution were saving graces for me when I first moved to the UK in September. I have read a lot of the self-help New Age style books like The Secret, part of A New Earth, and The Art of Happiness that talk about the need to be in the present moment and the realize that your thoughts will dictate your future so you need to change your thoughts in order to "be happy." Now for the most part I get it (well not really A New Earth as I thought he was all over the place, but that will be a BIG digression if I go there so I am not) but it didn't really sink in. Then I picked up, and finally read, The Body Fat Solution...and you know, I had on of those light bulb moments. The idea that I needed to set goals, set realistic dates to achieve those goals, and to think about "shedding fat" instead of constantly telling myself that I am "fat", were all factors in my success of ultimate health that made sense. He focused on the mind first and then set off on the body which most programs neglect. Then going back and reading his first book Burn the Fat Feed the Muscle gave me all the steps to put those goals in action.

As the holidays came and went I finally see that I can enjoy life, have some fun, but stick to my own convictions and treat my body in a respectable manner. This really came out of this challenge and my long and short terms goals of pushing my boundaries. That is why I wrote the Push-over piece yesterday. For a long time I was a push-over in my resolve to stick to a healthy life style change - one slip up and I would say screw it and go back to food and drink as a comfort, even though it only made me more uncomfortable. So to Tom Venuto I say thank you for doing this challenge and helping me to show myself that I can do it. By August 21, 2010 I should have reached one of my long term goals of fat loss with further goals to come.

Pushover

2010-01-10T04:49:00.000-08:00

The dictionary definition of a pushover is someone who is easily taken advantage of. Now, usually I would not describe myself in these terms, but looking back on past friendships and thinking about future endeavors I have come to realize that I can be a HUGE pushover. And you know what, I really don't like it. It is something that has been with me since I was young, afraid of loosing "friends" if I stood up for myself or put my own needs first. As a result I learned to put on a tough exterior to those I did not know, but the few that I allowed myself to get close to I cowered and allowed them to use me as a dumping ground for their own problems and emotions.

Well, I figure if I really want to take back my life and make it the best one for me then I can't keep doing this. Really, it comes down to me taking a good hard look at myself and realizing that I am good enough. Ah, now memories of Oprah and her "self love" days come back to mind. While I won't go hug myself and say "I am special, I am worthy" (although I can be a little special now and then) I am going to stop investing so much time in people that can't return some of the investment back. I mean I figure that is what a friendship is - mutual caring and understanding for another. More than that I realize that as I get older I need to start believing in myself. I don't know, graduate school on one hand has torn me down and made me have to stand strong to my thoughts in order to survive the back stabbing, idea stealing, ego-centric world that comprises academia. Yet, on the other hand it has also made me doubt more and more my own self worth - which is just not cool on all levels. I have found that I am more cautious then I need to be, trying to make sure I have someone agree with me or not make to strong of an assertion because I will be shut down automatically or people just won't like me. It's funny I can get so passionate and strong willed when I start to talk about issues of race, nation, injustice, education, politics but then I can be such a flippin wimp when a "friend" decides to "confide" in me about all their problems and tell me all their dramas but could care less to hear about my life. It is so emotionally and physically draining that I just can't do it anymore. The power of "No" has to enter my mind and come out my mouth, so I guess this is my New Years Resolution a few days late. And really, I don't need everyone to like me or I like everyone - just respect and mutual understanding is really all one can ask for.

Honestly, this is hard to write but sometimes facing yourself and your own demons/issues/problems is a bitch. But, it is necessary and after last years wave of depression and self deprecation I don't, and can't, go down that road again. I am sure all of us have gone through waves of this in some form or another. I think this is why I needed to get out of Michigan, start fresh, and realize I can make friends outside of a preconceived academic environment, that I can be fun and not have to rely solely on my "intellect", and that I am overall a good person who happens to be a little too nice sometimes. That is not a bad thing - I just need to remember my own interests and social, mental, and physical health. So I guess it comes down to balancing self-care and remembering that nice doesn't have to equal pushover.

It's Official

2010-01-07T09:13:00.000-08:00

No - I'm not pregnant...or engaged. This is something more important than that.

You ever get that tight feeling in your stomach when you open up a letter (or email) and realize that whatever you signed up for or did is now official because if it written down? Well, I got that feeling today as I opened an email from the Hervis Prague Half Marathon committee telling me my registration was now "official" (even though I signed up in November), my start number is F1044, and that I am to take this letter with me when I pick up my number and goodie bag.

Looks like I'm running 13.1 miles on March 27, 2010 in Prague and you know what I want to throw up. I guess it's that mix of fear, excitement, uncertainty, stupidity, and down right anxiety. Can I make it? Can I complete the training? Why am I really doing this? Will my body hold up? What the fuck am I thinking (excuse my French, but you know it gives it that extra zing)?

Really, the training is the hardest part. Keeping to this half marathon schedule that just looks at me day in and day out when I am in my office working or in the kitchen eating is what worries me the most. The diagnosis of sciatica from the osteopath with the warning of no weights and no running doesn't help either. As she worked on my lower back this past Monday thoughts raced through my mind. I am ok forgoing the intense weight workouts and replacing them with pilates and body weight routines. To be honest it is better for my joints and should help me in sculpting a physique I desire and can maintain until weights are my friend once again. But the running - can't let go of it man. Every time I have said I was to run a half marathon in the past some injury has gotten in the way. Now some would say that it's a "sign" from "somewhere" that maybe running long distance is not for me. But, if you know me then you know I see it as a sign that I need to get off my ass, suck it up, log the miles, and run across that damn finish line on March 27 in a city where I have never been. So, it's official - I'm running 13.1 miles.

New Years Weekend

2010-01-03T14:56:00.000-08:00

Here is a link of pictures from Wednesday night on the 30th of December, 2009 to Sunday afternoon on January 3, 2010. One of the best weekends I have had in a long time, I hiked with Mike, Vix, and Alex New Years Eve in a forest, climbed a mountain on New Years day, hiked another forest the day after and geo-cached Sunday morning around an old Welsh fort and mining site. The scenery was stunning, feeling more like the Swiss Alps than the UK (but technically I haven't been to the Swiss Alps so this is all based on the Sound of Music and pictures) and my love for nature grew. So I hope you all enjoy.

New years weekend 2009-2010

Fear

2010-01-03T13:43:00.000-08:00

Fear is a powerful emotion, one that can be both a blessing and curse depending on how much of a hold it has over your life. For me, I have grown to become fearful of too many things - heights, speed, adventure, water..hell you name anything extreme and I would tell you I was not to keen on it. But, as this blog says in the first post, I am trying to overcome these fear by pushing my limits. I am only 28 years old, but sometimes feel like a broke down 80 year old woman who belongs in a nursing home surrounded by books. Lets be real, life is to damn short to allow fear to cripple and choke the fun out of living. So for this past New Years I wanted to do something different - something that would really test by boundaries and so I set off with Mike, Alex, and Vix to Snowdonia, Wales to climb a mountain...and guess what...I did it!

Well, I didn't make the summit - but baby steps man, baby steps. We were able to reach 1,400 feet on Mount Snowdonia on a crisp sunny New Years Day morning. The trail was busy with others partaking in the great conditions and trying to start a new year and decade off in style. We also shared the trail the day with runners competing in a race - not sure how long but as I looked at runners young and old booking it across the lower part of the mountain I was both in awe and inspired. So I pushed down my fears as we began to ascent to the summit.

Scared shitless - that is all I can say. I was scared shitless as we rounded a corner and I realized that the nice trail I was on for the first 1 1/2 hours was ending and the climbing needed to begin. With the wintery snow blanketing the landscape the once well marked trail was now compressed snow - the remnants of previous hikers. Vix and Alex made the ascent with little problems - making it half way up before I was even a third there. Mike stayed behind, encouraging me to put one step in front of the other. My head just raced with thoughts - "What if I fall? What if this is how I die? Why in the hell did I think I want to climb mountains? Black people don't do this shit!" You know normal stuff you might think as well.

But climb I did, not looking back as I put one step in front of the other until finally both of my feet were on the ridge. Alex and Vix gave me a high five and told me to look at how far I had come up. I said no, preferring to keep my eyes straight ahead and allow my fear to suppress itself. The summit was in sight, but the ground was turning more and more snowy - with ice accumulating along the way. We had no crampons so walking in snow was making my legs tired and my back ache. But we continued on, with me always trailing far in the back - afraid to walk too fast as I might slip and fall (down the hill is what I was thinking, but in reality every time I fell it was just into snow. Really more of a bruised ego than anything else). At around 1:30pm I asked a couple coming from the summit how much further - they said 45 minutes in tough conditions but well worth the trek.

Yet, that was not the day for me to reach the summit. The sun was already at its highest point, preparing itself to sink slowly from the horizon. Clouds were rolling in and we decided that being on that mountain in the dark was not a smart idea. On their own Mike, Vix, and Alex could have easily made it up to the summit and back before dusk - but with me at the tail this was not an option I could or wanted to take. I was happy with my progress and knew going down was going to be harder than coming up in the ice and snow. So we made out descent, going down by another trail that left me falling on 3 different occasions into the powdery snow.

But, I had a damn good time. Even though I was slow, scared, tired, sore, and annoyed with the parents who thought it was a good idea to bring children on the side of a mountain and the flippin 12 person group who hogged the trail taking pictures in their jeans (ok that was digressing) I loved every minute of it. I looked at my fear and said "Fuck you" and I am proud of that. Once I made it up that hard climb Alex looked at me a said "Nikki (it's funny cause only my mom calls me that and so to hear a white British guy doing the same makes me laugh) didn't you say you wanted to climb a mountain on your 30th bday, well you already did so you might want to change that goal." And you know what he is right, for my 30th bday I plan to summit a mountain in South America and I think I can get in physical and mental shape for that here in the good old UK.

Going back to fear - I am tired of it. Just as I am tired of being a push-over (this will be talked about in my next post). The new decade is one of new beginnings. While I was on the side of that mountain trying to descend I did a lot of thinking. Dreams that I have had I want to make reality. I don't know for sure what my career will be, but I am having second thoughts about academy as my only route. Many of you know this but writing, politics, the outdoors, food, and family are taking over my thoughts more than grants, tenure, and publications. Essentially life is taking over, not just career, and I am trying to wrap that around me head.

Also, bullshit is coming out that I want to get rid of. I am tired to being the "nice friend" who is always there for others, but does not get the same in return and you know what - that is my own fault for not seeing my own self worth. So that mountain (and really the whole weekend as we hiked everyday) did more for me than just kick my ass and leave me falling asleep at the dinner table. It got me thinking about what I really want to do with, and have in, my life. Climbing that mountain made me come to terms with and climb out of my old shell - and for that I say thank you! So, to a New Year and New Start, make this life what you want (God, now I sound like Oprah).

Oh and for some reason I was singing this song the whole weekend - including while trying to climb so I thought I would share.

Rest

2009-12-28T14:37:00.000-08:00

Rest. This is a word that many of us say. but few of us actually do. Taking a rest from work, school, working out, hell life in general is a novel ideal - but in practice many of us fall short, seeking the comforts of "keepin busy" in order to complete some unseen goal in the future. But, after my holiday trip to Spain for X-mas break, I came to fully understand the value and need to rest in regards to my life. I learned a valuable lesson in the trip - I like my new life and all that it entails and my body liked the rest it got from constant running and lifting. Let me explain...

I was in Spain for 8 days over X-mas this year with Mike. Down in Sevilla, we packed clothes and shoes to run and workout. We had it planned out in advanced: we were to lift 3 times that week and run 3 times, cook most of our meals, and bring food on the plane. We were going to maintain the lifestyle we stick to in the UK, Period! But, I forgot one tiny detail...we were not in the UK (and Mike apparently forgot that we were not in Thailand as he sports the lovely American travel outfit on one of the coldest days in Sevilla) and those little comforts of defined familiar footpaths and forests, a gym that we knew how to navigate, the supermarkets with foods we understood and knew, and a kitchen that was stocked with our favorite spices and condiments did not translate into Seville. Staying at a friends house, the kitchen was great - but it was not ours. The supermarkets had food - but not the same as what we were finally getting use to in Bristol. The running paths were there- but the pissing down rain left us unable to explore the city in this fashion. We found a gym, but the equipment was a little outdated and the treadmill skipped while in motion - not really a good thing when you want to go forward. Basically, in a city where people work little, smoke lots, and go out to all hours of the morning trying to live a "healthy" lifestyle becomes a bit more work.

But, Mike and I did walk - we walked and walked - geo-caching one day in the process. The walking did me good as I was able to let off steam and little stress - until it pissed rain and my leather shoes gave my blisters, but I digress... I can't lie, I was a bit worried about my fitness level coming back to the UK. My half marathon is in 13 weeks, so I will begin a schedule once the New Year starts. The thought of running 13.1 miles is getting more and more nervous, scared, and excited as the days past. Can I really afford to not run for 8 days?

Well, I answered my question today and it was a big YES!! The run on the treadmill felt good, really good, and the hill sprints afterward even better (well then I threw my lower back out after trying to do a damn burpee by the request of my trainer, but I digress). My body had recovered from the intense 2 1/2 months of workouts by myself and with my trainer. My legs were fresh, my mind a little clearer, and my enthusiasm increased after realizing that I like my lifestyle back in the UK. I like working for the organization that I am at, conducting the interviews and hanging out with new people. I like the hiking I am now doing, exploring new parts of nature that I once before felt were off limits. I like waking up early and going to bed at a decent hour, forsaking the pubs for a good nights sleep. And I like the thought of pushing my limits in this race, March 28th 2010. So overall I can say the "rest" in Sevilla was good because the 4 and 6 am nights really made me see how much I like to sleep and rest during those times. So as the New Year approaches I still maintain my goal of taking control of my life, in all means and ways possible. Happy Flippin New Year Everyone!

Cities and Growing Older

2009-12-22T12:58:00.000-08:00

It's amazing how growing older can completely change your outlook on life. When I was in my early 20s I thought I had my whole life planned out. I was to get a Ph.d in Biological/Forensic Anthropology, work in a university and do cases on the side, get a man, and live in a big city doing "city things" (whatever the hell that means). The outdoors and I did not get along and I was fine with that because I thought that I was not suppose to "do" the country.

In my mid-20s I was still on the city track, but the career focus took a slight turn. I found out during my Masters program that I hated forensic anthropology, preferring to work with living people instead of dead. I still wanted the Ph.D so I made a decision and switched my focus of study to Socio-Cultural Anthropology. After three years at Michigan State I switched my focus even further - tossing the idea of examining the use of race in genetics research and changing it to understanding the intersections of national and ethnic identity within the UK. Nothing really that drastic to be honest - I still saw myself with a Ph.D and working in the academy.

Now I am 28 and find my future to be more uncertain then when I was 20. I am still studying and am in the middle of my fieldwork in England. I love it and see myself really get more involved in issues of national identity, immigration, policy, ethnic identity, and ideas about democracy and civic participation. So essentially I have gone from looking at dead people's skeletons to understanding how living people try to keep "others" out of "their country" - good stuff! But what has drastically changed is my idea of where I want to live. I find that I now don't like cities - I find them claustrophobic, sterile, and overwhelming. Now I know cities are different all around the world, but the more I visit them the more I want to get out of them. For me the countryside and the mountains replace architecture, busy city centers, and trendy nightclubs/bars. Don't get me wrong, cities can be great - but I realize it really is whatever floats your boat. In my life, at this time, the concrete jungle is being replaced by rolling hills and mountainside valleys as places to explore and enjoy. I am ok with this. Who knows when I get older my feelings will certainly change again. But until they do I plan to embrace my new tastes.

Beer + Deer = Saturday Night

2009-12-13T13:52:00.000-08:00

Most people on Saturday night call their friends, get dressed up, and go off to the pub/bar/club to drink, dance, socialize, and at the end of the night mate (if you're lucky). But after a while this routine can get a bit boring. The older I get the more I realize that I don't like to always go out on a Friday or Saturday, making myself look half way presentable to stand around in a crowded bar, push my way to get an over-priced half stale drink, and yell at the person next me in order to have a conversation. Frankly, it gets old and I get tired as hell a lot earlier than I use to. Call it being in a 3 year relationship, call me old, shit even call me annoying, I don't care but - what you can't call me is boring because while most of Bristol was out in pubs pounding back drinks, I was out in the dark with a torch in hand taking a "walk" through the woods of Ashton Court/Leigh Woods with some good friends. Over the course of three hours I walked through some mud, had some laughs, drank some beer, saw a shit load of deer, and managed to crack my crotch over a steel fence - beat that Saturday night!

Before I begin I want to clarify something. I am not trying to say that I am "better" because I don't necessarily like the bar scene. On the contrary I am really trying to illustrate how much I have seen myself grow into a woman who is taking control and dictating how she wants to live her life. Although I am strong willed I, like many others, can be easily persuaded to do things I really don't want to do. For a while I haven't really liked going out on the weekends - I didn't like the hangovers or what it was doing to my body. Once in a while is cool with me but I really prefer hanging out in people's homes with some good home cooked food and wine, or exploring something random. But, for some strange reason I didn't want to really admit this - weird and kind of stupid I just thought I would be seen as "boring" or "uncool". Now, I honestly just can't be bothered with it all - so hanging out in the woods last night with Mike and Alex and Vic (the red neck loving, Utah crazy British couple in the earlier posts) was liberating in a way. To each his own and I am finding "my own" to be the outdoors, whether in daylight or moonlight. I like what is does in terms of keeping my mind and body sharp and I like the people I am meeting in these new environments. But I digress...onto the night!

With beers in our rucksacks and torches in hand and on heads we set out into nearby Ashton Court, a large wooded area just a few miles outside of Bristol city. The night was crisp and clear, with stars dancing in the night sky lighting the way through the dense woods and open plains. Throughout the walk Vic and I talked non-stop and Alex and Mike walked ahead telling us to "shhs" so we could see deer. At one point we saw a bunch of doe and fawn behind the fence in this picture, their eyes like green dots in the thick darkness. After cracking open a beer ("because we could" as Vic said) we continued on until we came across a holiday party in the old Ashton mansion further into the complex.

While leaving the grounds we had to hop a 4 foot steel fence - technically the estate is not open at night so we kind of just came in through an opening in the surrounding fence so we kind of had to make our way back to that opening. Now since the fence was not that tall I thought I could just kind of hop right over it. Trying to be cool, I ended up slipping, with the end result being my crotch painfully landing right on top of that steel fence. If I was a man I would have needed ice.

Anyway, making our way back we had to cross through a deer walkway. Vic and I just kept talkin and walkin until Alex said "would you two shut up and look to you're right!" As we stopped and turned a clan of deer - stag, doe, and fawn - were starting back at us in the dark. The points of the stag and the bodies of the deer in the silhouette made a dramatic impression upon the landscape. No words were spoken for a minute and we just watched in awe as more and more deer joined the herd. It was like a Wild West show down as the deer sized us up and we just stared back in amazement. After a while we heared what sounds like a fawn crying...then silence...then another fawn crying...then silence...then more staring...then...one of the stag lets out this cry. If I were fluent in deer I am sure it would translate to "Get you're asses off my territory" - or at least that is how Vic and I interpreted it. So we turned and walked our asses as fast as we could out of there until we reached the little gate and were "safe" in the open dark plains.

As we made our way back to the car Vic and I continued our conversation - a nice "getting to know you" talk in which we shared past stories and future plans. At one point I looked around me and realized that I was in the middle of a forest, in the dark of night, walking through mud - and I was happy. Truly happy to just "be" - to just be in the moment with little else on my mind but not falling down and keeping up with the others. And you know what, it's a nice feeling to have. So for me beer + deer = a damn good Saturday night.

Easy vs Simple

2009-12-11T05:12:00.000-08:00

My body is sore. Not that "oh I have a little soreness in my knee or shoulder" but that "God DAMN I can't move or breathe to hard without swearing and grunting" type of sore. It comes and goes, mostly comes after a training session and goes before the next to only re-emerge and start the process once again. Just when I am comfortable with a routine or workout my trainer (God bless his little ass) flips the script and I leave the session a sweaty stinky mess - and sore the next day.

Now, I can't complain to much. As of yesterday I am down a full 20 lbs since I started September 24, 2009 and 7% body fat. Not to bad if I say so myself (and I do). My body is leaning out and I can start to see myself again in the mirror. It is a face I had lost for the better part of a year (and a bit longer if I am being honest with myself). But the work it takes to get back to the face, and body, I want and remember is unbelievable. I realized that this journey is teaching me something really important - the different between EASY and SIMPLE. Let's break it down.

Life is simple...no really it is. You are born, you do that whole growing up thing, you get a job or get married or be a bum, you might have some kids or a dog, you get older, and then you die (and yea I hate to break it to you, you will die). That is simple - but it doesn't mean it's easy. Being a kid is not easy, nor are the different inequalities associated with what type person you are. Relationships aren't easy, they take time to foster and work. School and jobs are not easy, you must "prove" yourself worthy to be in school or have that job and once in you must then "prove" you belong. Again, depending on your race, class, gender, sexual orientation, religion, age, disability, (you get my picture) your life may be more difficult than another s. People around you are not easy - some are too loud, too noisy, too smelly (I live in Europe, lets be real), or just plain annoying. Then that whole death thing is kind of downer as well - "When will I die? How will I die?" are not easy questions to ask or answer. So, simply put, life is not easy.

But in society we are trained to always find the easy way out and if it doesn't work just give it up and wait for the next easy fix. In terms of weight management and fat reduction this becomes a problem. It is not easy to lose weight - but it is simple. Eat less and move more...or burn more calories than you consume. That sure as hell ain't easy, but the diet industry makes it seem so. Take this pill, eat this food, do this workout - 20 minutes a day, eat all you want and lose weight - its all a bunch of hype but people buy into it because it seems easy.

So I finally came to realize the difference between simple and easy. Simply put I make sure I burn more calories than I consume. But I accept that this is hard fuckin work (excuse the "fuck"). Being conscious of what goes in my mouth, training at least 5 times a week and making the time to do so, coming to terms with soreness and stepping outside my comfort zones, signing up for races that I am afraid to do - all of this is not easy but I have come to realize it is necessary for my own personal understanding of what is healthy for my body. I was ok with the fact that school and academia were not easy and so I work my ass off to get to where I need to be. I realize that having a relationship is not easy so I work to make sure we stay connected as we both grow older and change. But I never realized the work really needed to keep my body at a healthy body composition until I began to consciously work at it.

To everyone out there doing the 30 day 30 run challenge, the 50 day Tom Venuto holiday challenge, or any other training regime realize that what you are doing is not easy, but its simple. Work it out.

Anthropology

2009-12-06T14:35:00.000-08:00

This piece is a little different from the rest as it deals with my academic side - a side I thought I would not address in this setting. But I have come to realize that anthropology as a disciple and academia as an institution are deeply intertwined in my personal identities and goals. After presenting at the 2009 American Anthropological Association's annual meeting in Philadelphia, PA I realized that I can mold my different interests and identities together in order to create a life, and a career, that I want to live. Let me explain.

I am an anthropologist. It's what I do and what I have come to love. But, in recent years I have intensely began to question my relationship with this field. Surrounded by pretentious middle and upper class white students and faculty who view me as "the minority on minority fellowship" I have developed a jaded view of the purposes and intent of anthropology as a disciple. I came into this field with the purpose of trying to tackle issues of inequality and human rights through research. Now, as a 5th year Ph.D candidate, with two Masters in different aspects of the subject, I have come to question the sincerity of the disciple I was so enamored with when I was 14 years old. Facing institutional racism from all universities I have attended, dealing with colonial mindsets, being seen as the "other" by so called colleagues, coming to terms with white privilege at every turn, and understanding the impact of sexism within the larger academia I have come to realize that without anthropology I would never had realized these larger processes were operating...but that it is also the practice of anthropology by larger anthropologist which allows these inequalities to exist (within the academy). (Yes, I said it!)

But, yesterday in a session that honored the memory of Katherine Dunham, an African-American anthropologist who created the Dunham technique in dance, my faith and excitement for the field came back with a vengeance. "The Matriarch of Black Dance, Dunham used dance as her ethnographic representation. In the session I attended various Black anthropologist (junior and senior faculty) used dance, song, instruments, script, and the audience to illustrate the impact and importance Dunham had on the deconstruction and reinterpretation of ballet. The overall presentation was spell-bounding as the academics brought the theory and technique to life, bringing a much needed energy and creativity to the presentation format. After the two hours the group was given a standing ovation.

This talk breathed new life into my academic bones as the thoughts and techniques I only entertained in my head were given a space to become reality. The creator of the format, Dr. Elizabeth Chin from Occidental College, is trying to shake up the dusty old academy and allow for new and more innovative forms of expression and dissemination. As a student this was what I needed. The use of visuals and art has always been in the back of head with little pieces coming to the surface, but fear of denial and "unacceptability" keeps the rest hidden. Not now. The spirit of Katherine Dunham was brought back to life in that session. Now I look forward to bringing my creative side into my academic endeavors. The old academy needs some shaking up and I look forward to being apart of that change.

Now I journey back to Bristol with new ideas in my head and new energy in my heart.

Thanksgiving

2009-11-29T08:35:00.000-08:00

A few days late, but oh so worth the wait , Thanksgiving 2009 was great (I just had to do it)! But seriously, my first Thanksgiving in the good old UK was a day of non stop cooking and cleaning and a night of food, drinks, friends, and Pictionary.

Mike and I spent all of Thursday shopping, picking up the ingredients for our feast on Friday. Flour, cornmeal, macaroni, cheese, turkey, ham, veggies, fresh herbs...and more plates, utensils, chairs, towels, glasses and a borrowed table and chairs from our neighbors were collected that day in order to make Friday's feasts a hit. Friday saw a 6:45 am start for Mike. Prep was a few hours and cooking began once the clock struck 10am.

I channeled my mother and made the infamous mac and cheese and cornbread. Mike focused on the turkey and ham, mashed potatoes from scratch, napa cabbage salad, and broccoli. We both sorted out the deviled eggs and tray of cheese, meats, and crackers for appetizer and Mike found he had bakers thumb when he whipped out a homemade sweet potato pie (including making the crust), toffee bars, and no-bake cookies. By the time the guests arrived at 7pm we were tired and unable to eat.

But, oh the rewards of it all when the 4 couples who came dug in and had themselves a big American Thanksgiving dinner. 6 Brits, 1 Frenchmen, and 1 woman from Prague left us a bit worried that our American foods would be ill received. Yet, most came back for seconds and the wine was always topped up. (Below are our Breacon Becon hiking, Utah red-neck loving British friends Alex and Vic).

Our friend Pierre (who is the Frenchmen if you hadn't guest) was my favorite of the evening. As he navigated through the sea of food his senses seemed overwhelmed with "What tis this?" rolling off the tip of his tongue every 2 minutes. It's interesting as staples in my kitchen growing up like mac and cheese and cornbread are really an exotic dish to many others. A sweet tasting bread that is not desert, rather a side to go with veggies (like collard greens) seemed odd to some. But, everyone tried the dishes with praises sung all around.

We couldn't ask for much more. After dinner Pictionary was played, with four different accents and nationalities around the table making the game a long slow process (oh and the wine and cognac didn't help either). By 11:20pm people were tired, stuffed, and drunk. The night ended with guests leaving with doggy bags in hand and a small taste of an American holiday that leaves me thankful for making new friends in a country that I am coming to love as the weeks pass. So to all I say Happy Thanksgiving.

Holiday Challenge

2009-11-27T01:59:00.000-08:00

(Song for your enjoyment while reading. One of my favorite that gets me going when I am down. And you know you love country in that undercover way!)

In my weight loss post a few weeks back I mentioned a book that really got me to focus make on my my health and mental well-being. Well that author, Tom Venuto, has created a Holiday Challenge that I accepted on November 22, 2009. Some of you may be asking yourself, why in the hell would you do that? Well, I'll tell you why...cause I want to. The fact that I actually want to makes me excited to do it. Let me explain.

Holidays can be alot of fun. Friends, family (if you like yours), booze, food, and jolly good times. Really, after Halloween the holidays are crammed down our throats as department stores begin to decorate, Christmas music is pumped out 24/7 (starting at Starbucks), and people start to make plans for Christmas parties and holiday travel. It is all around us and in that frenzy many times we forget about what the holiday season is suppose to be about, along with our own sanity and well being. We begin to stress over getting others the right present, getting to the stores at the butt crack of down for the right deals (I mean really, who in the hell thinks its a good idea to camp outside of Best Buy for a TV or Nintendo Wii? I'd rather look for a hot one on the corner and pay $10 bucks more and avoid the insane moms with the strollers who want to run you and you're little dog over, but I'm just sayin), going to all the right Christmas parties, and making sure family members are happy. So really, the holidays can make you go crazy, have you eating to much, drinking even more, and by the time New Years day rolls around you are tired, bloated, look 3 years older, and all you really want to do is have a lie in - but you can't cause it's the New Year and you need to make that New Year's resolution to drop weight and get into a bikini by summer. Damn, I'm tired even thinking about it!

Sister Big Bone (couldn't embed it -damn copyright across international borders infringement)!

Now, some of you might be thinking "damn Nicole you sound like Scrooge on a good day." So, let me explain further. For me the holidays are a time of celebration and mourning. My family is not that close. They are not that keen on keeping in touch once you leave the Chicagoland area. I am never in that area, therefore I tend to be on my own during the holidays. In the past I traveled and didnt think anything of it - I made this front like I didn't care. Yet, as I get older I find myself longing for that family connection - no matter how much of a pain in the ass they can be (and are to be honest). I look at Mike and his family and I see how a family can be. Yesterday his whole family was over at his Aunt's for Thanksgiving and they skyped him to say hello. It was like something off of a tv commercial - the whole family is over talking and cooking and the one son is off somewhere else in the world. But through the wonderful advantages of internet they can be together. It made me sad as I longed for that with my own family, but I know it will never happen.

However, instead of me drowning my sorrows in cheap wine and turkey, what I can do is focus on my own goals - and one of the main ones is to get myself in a body that can go long distances and not be in pain. The holiday challenge seemed like a logical avenue to pursue. In doing this the holidays are not a time for me to be sad, but instead they become a time where I can learn to enjoy myself in new surroundings with Mike, make new friends, and get out there and explore.

So, I have 50 days to transform my body composition in the hopes of winning a 5-day all inclusive trip to Jamaica. Do I think I can win it? Well, HELL YEA I DO! A body composition challenge focused on body fat lose, not just weight lose, is exactly what I need to keep my spirits and hopes up this holiday season. I am tired of having to travel to escape confrontation with the holidays. This Christmas Mike and I go to Spain to be with another friend who has just moved to Europe, but for New Years we will be celebrating it at our flat, with one drink in hand and stomachs flatter (I know that sounds counterproductive but roll with me here). I wouldn't have it any other way. As the days go on I will keep updating my status, but know that this challenge was just what the doctor ordered for me this holiday season. Waddle on friends...

And now the moment you were all waiting for...

2009-11-23T10:44:00.000-08:00

Ok not really, but here is footage from that crazy hike in Wales. Notice the sound of the rain against the cover of the phone (you thought I was going to say window pane!). At this point we were still heading on, thinking we could hold out on the weather. But, Mike's pants were taking a beating so Alex constructed the infamous hillbilly trousers.

Oh the joys of iPhones on mountain tops. Life can't get much better!

At least I had on the right pants!

2009-11-22T13:44:00.000-08:00

I often exaggerate for the hell of it. Stories are made for exaggeration and I love to tell a good story. But on my hike yesterday in Wales with Mike, Alex, and Vicky no amount of exaggeration can compare to the actual events that unfolded in my first attempt to hike a small mountain in Southern Wales.

Mike and I are newbies to this whole hiking culture. I told myself that once I moved to Bristol I wanted to begin to hike. The region is known for its walking and hiking trails, and the landscape leaves you coming back for more with its breathtaking rolling fields of green and jagged rock formations. Our first walk was a gentle 2 1/2 hour country stroll in the posh Cotswold area with another couple we know. One small hill was about as intense as we got that day, so Mike and I were looking for more of an adventure. Well, we got what we asked for when we met Alex and Vic. Meeting initially at a couchsurfing party in town we got together with them last Wednesday. Mike and Alex had some "man time" rock climbing at the local center and Vic and I met at the pub to talk about me playing on a local netball team (very British game that I don't know a hell of alot of about but I'll give a go as the Brits would say). Vic and I got to talking and found out that we both liked hiking, so we decided to go on a hike Saturday in Wales.

I realized before we went that I needed some kind of hiking pants. Rain and wind are common in these parts and I know my baggy sweatpants weren't going to cut it. So Mike and I went to a local outdoor shop in town and I got myself a pair - Mike decided that he didn't want to make the investment so opted to wear jeans. This would be prove to be a dumbass mistake - but we will get to that later.

The day of the hike we meet up with Vic and Alex at their house. As we put our stuff into their car Mike and I notice they both have their own day packs, walking sticks, base layer clothing, and GPS devices. All we had was a small day pack from Mike's backpack, some sandwiches, a camera, and raincoats - but I at least had on the right pants. But, what the hell, it wouldn't be that bad right?

We arrive after an hour and a half drive, during which we made 2 pee stops, went searching for a Geo-cache on the side of the road (will explain in a later post), and I attempted not to throw up in the back seat due to car sickness on the small ass Welsh winding roads. Coming up to the start to the start of the climb Alex comments that the clouds are a bit low, and visibility is only about 15 meters, but he has blankets, food, a first aid kit, and GPS so if we get stuck we can make shelter. I am thinking - "What the fuck (excuse the language for some) is he talking about?" But I smile and say cool. Then we begin and I tell you I was shitting myself on the ascent up. The first 25, not 5 or 10, but 25 minutes was a straight uphill walk. As my thighs began to burn from the unusual movement over rocky uneven ground I began to think to myself - "I am really doing this!" Vic stayed back with me and we played name the US states and UK counties. Needless to say she knew a hell of alot more States then I did counties, but it made the initial climb up easier.

Reaching the ridge we kept walking. The flat ground felt a lot better, but the wind and rain kept coming. By this time Mike's pants are soaked so Alex decides to make him some hillbilly trousers (video footage to come later). Taking bin liners Alex wrapped them around Mike's legs and duck taped them up. Lasting a total of 5 minutes, the liners decided to quit as the rain and wind kept coming. All I can say is that I told him so, but really mother nature did a better job of showing him to respect the elements.

But, after the wind picked up more, to the point we were all walking on slant with the wind howling at us as pelts of rain are stinging our faces, we decided that we needed to turn back so that we could make it down to the car. Walking back we had to cross over a small deep puddle and then a small waterfall. Now, being the newbie I mistook light dirt for a rock. So I stepped out on this imaginary rock and ended up with half my leg in water and mud. Mike pulled me out as I am shouting "goddammit I thought it was rock!"

Ah, but at least I had on the right pants. Through high winds, constant rains, and a leg in a muddy wet ditch my lower half remained relatively dry throughout the walk. Mike on the other hand, with jeans on and hillbilly over-trousers did not fare so well. Soaked through completely, once we reached the car they had to come off. Now, this would not be so bad if we were going home but wet, cold, and hungry a pub with a good fire was in order. So, with a blue beach towel around his waist Mike walked into the local pub with his American kilt on and warmed himself by the fire with a Jameson on the rocks in hand.

Overall, it was an amazing day. I learned that gear is essential, along with a change of clothes. I learned that walking sticks are the best thing ever invented - ok well not the best but they come in handy going down steep inclines in the rain. But, I also learned that I can conquer my fears. I always dreamed of climbing mountains and trekking through barren lands, but I was always afraid of actually going through with it. Doubt is more crippling than any disease as it makes you complacent in your everyday. For me, my everyday was not fulfilling. Yesterday, in the wind and rain on the side of that ridge with good people I felt alive. Truly alive. That is a feeling I never want to give up. Although we had to turn back, I know I am getting closer to my goal of conquering my fears and climbing a mountain on my 30th bday in South America. So I learned yesterday that with a little determination, a few laughs, and a good set a pants I can make it.

Stats

2009-11-18T04:54:00.000-08:00

This will be short and sweet. It has been 8 weeks since I began to focus on me and results are showing. My trainer today poked, pinched, and weighed this body of mine and now I am down 16 pounds; about 10 inches over my chest, back, waist, and thighs; and 5% body fat from when I started. Who said a bit of sweat and a hell of a lot of "f you's" don't pay off! Next time, a piece on the holiday season. Stay tuned...I know you are waiting!

Oh and for the curious this is me being very British...enjoying a proper walk through the countryside. Cherri-O for now

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!

2009-11-15T01:14:00.000-08:00

Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 75 years old. Three and half years ago I was in Seattle, WA with my friend Agatha. We were traveling up to Vancouver, BC in Canada the next day. I was to give my first professional talk as a Ph.D student, on a panel with my adviser. At 10:00pm Pacific time I received a call on my cell phone from my 16 year old brother Sean. Agatha and I were about to go out for dinner and drinks. I answer and say "What the hell are you doing up?" Sean replies "Dad's dead." I don't remember much after that. The rest of the weekend was a blur as I gave the talk and mostly drank. The rock of the family, and the sanity of my mother, died that night.

So who is my dad? Well to me he was a funny, smart-ass, ginger, caring guy. Oh, and he was old (I mean when you baby pic is in black and white and they used those bulbs to take it you know your old). His age made him different from the other dads when I was growing up. By the time I was born he was already 45, was born in the Second World War, lived on rations, contracted polio before antibiotics were discovered (I mean that is pretty damn old), been in the Air Force, ran bootleg liquor in Oklahoma, and had married and divorced. I was to be the first of 7 kids my mom and him had together (with two passing away), but dad was already a father so when I was born on August 21, 1981 I had an 18 year old brother to look after me.

Growing up on the far Southside of Chicago with a stay at home dad who looked like Santa Claus and a mother who no one ever saw made my family the odd ones in the neighborhood.

But, you know what I liked it. Times were hard but it made who I am today. I learned quick that "normal" was relative. I also learned that my mom had alot of issues that my dad kept secret. So I guess my dad was also a good mediator. He knew when to talk and when to keep quiet, what to tell and what to "forget." After he died, I saw the work he had put into the family to keep us together. It killed him in the end really. His mind and body just gave up as old age and the affects of polio rippled through his body. I was told he died of pneumonia, but I will never be sure. Mom can never give you a straight answer.

But today I remember who he was, and is, in my heart. Dad was my best friend. I told him when I first kissed a guy (his response was to tell me, after I asked why the guy wouldn't talk to me again, to "not give it up so easy next time" with a big laugh attached), he bought my first pads and bras, watched me play sports in high school and college when he could, and ordered me my first Archaeology magazine (even though I was doing Anthropology he at least got the overall field right). We would talk every other day when I moved to Louisiana and then to Michigan (one day he told me I needed friends). I would ask for his advice and he would always say "I can't live your life, you have to decide what is best for you." I liked that because even though he missed me and worried about my random travels around the country, he let me be free and allowed me to explore places, things, and ideas that he never could imagine. He loved me for me and that is all you can ask for in a parent.

This picture was taken on his 68th birthday. I was living in Louisiana and my older brother Rob and his wife were still stationed in Sicily. Schyler was in college somewhere in Iowa and the other three kids were in Chicago, living at home. All 7 of us had not been in the same country, in the same state, or in the same house for 10 years. So we decided to surprise dad and all come home. Rob bought my ticket up and picked me up from the airport. Dad was already shocked to see his oldest son and daughter-in-law in the country, but he was double shocked when he walked up the stairs and saw Schyler and I sitting in the kitchen. By this time I had lost 70 lbs, grown my hair long, and wore make-up. My dad looked at me and said "You're beautiful". It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever told me. I looked at him and said thanks and gave him the cowboy hat you see in the picture. Being dad, he said "Ok no more surprises, I don't think my heart can take it."

So now he is gone, but his spirit is somewhere. Us kids have become a little closer since his passing, but the family is a bit broken. My mother can't stop her grieving and so takes is out on us, but I am learning to deal with her. As I come to terms with my dad's death I realize that all I can do is pass on his memory to my kids and let them know that their granddad was a one wild, crazy-ass man who I love with all my heart. In my quest to live my life I honor my dad.

Happy birthday dad.

Food

2009-11-12T09:33:00.000-08:00

Mike (my boyfriend for those not in the know) likes to cook. I mean he really likes to cook. Since moving to the UK, and being without a job at the moment, Mike has taken up cooking as a past time. Recipes taken from Gordon Ramsey (right) and Jamie Oliver (below), along with a bit imagination has made Mike a wizard in the kitchen (and it leaves me time to do work). It also helps cut costs as we hardly go out to eat anymore and its been helping me drop this excess weight in preparation for the half marathon.

Honestly, I didn't even think food was something worth even writing about until a trip to the local Tesco this past Sunday. That day we made our way to the store after a failed attempt at swimming in the local pool (damn families with their bazillion kids hogging all the flippin lanes, but I digress...). Mike wanted to make homemade wheat bread and meat lasagna that day. I was to bake a whole chicken and have a side of broccoli. Good food, but nothing that shouts WOW (well the food was pretty damn good so a little wow might be in order). While checking out the cashier made a comment that it was nice to see people buying real food, as most who come through her lines either have ready made meals or boxed goods. This made me stop and think. How come in a grocery store, with fresh produce and proteins, is it becoming a rarity to see people buying "real food"?

So when we got home I pulled out all the stuff we bought from the store and laid on the counter to see what was so mysterious about our food selection.

My conclusion: nothing really. It's just food. For about $130.00 USD we were able to get enough things to last us for up to two weeks, minus veggies which last only about 5-7 days before we have to restock. Now, I hear the argument that buying food like this is expensive, but that is bullshit. When you add up the prepackaged meals, the take-aways, and the boxed goods many times you end up spending more money because you are still hungry due to the lack of nutrients. Or, you hear people say they don't have time, but the same people seem to have time for the pub, tv, or to just sit around and bitch about how much time they don't have. I use to do this, and this is what allowed me to get into a routine of binging, not working out, drinking, bitching about feeling fat, repeat. When I would look at my bank account I wondered where all my money had gone - one day I realized, sadly, that is was mainly me going to restaurants and take-away shops.

Now some of you may be saying to yourself "Well in America we have the big fast food companies to blame with their advertisements and locations in disadvantaged areas that is causing a rise in obesity." If you are saying that I would agree with you to an extent. It is big business and in a capitalist system business tends to win, many times over basic ethical and moral concerns. But, I think it goes a bit beyond that. In the UK the idea of drive-through is not there because there is no space. Simple, so you think that their obesity rates are lower. BUT, they aren't that much lower because instead of the McDonalds or KFC on ever corner you have Kebab shops, pizza joints, and Indian take-aways that are all open late for the "after pub" crowd, and they are cheap. Liquor + cheap take away food on every corner = a growing epidemic of overweight unhealthy populations. So it goes back the beginning of my post of why, as people, are we reluctant to eat real food anymore?

If you look behind the smoke and mirrors of all the weight loss shows, infomercials, diet books, tabloid coverage of celebrity weight loss/gain it comes down to humans renegotiating our relationship with food. Of course many may, and will, find holes in my theory, but I think when we find it "abnormal", or label people "snotty" or "pretentious", to buy fresh fruits, veggies, and meats then there is a problem. When I was growing up we did not have a lot of money, but we ate mostly real food. Now, I didn't understand the idea of portion control and balancing my plate, but overall it was real food. When you are feeding a large family on little money my parents realized buying a few pounds of dried beans and a large sack of rice was more filling, more nutritious, and least expensive then sending the family down to McDonalds for a Big Mac with fries. As a society were are now over-educated in some respects about food, and at the same time ignorant on basic facts about nutrition. Maybe this is the new revolutionary idea that the young generation takes up on its quest to be an "eco-friendly green planet." I don't know, but next time you reach for that packaged meal or that easy take-away snack ask yourself if you can wait till you go home and make yourself a proper meal.

I don't like my feet off the ground

2009-11-07T06:26:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a day of learning. First I learned that I had a tight groin (please see previous post for explanation) and second I learned I don't like my feet leaving the ground. Let me explain.

I run here some of the time. I like it. In the middle of the city there is big open space and footpaths all around. It's a British thing - people should have access to public space and so the government makes sure there are parks and footpaths throughout the country for people to enjoy. So when in Britain, do as the Britons and I use this public space for my enjoyment (see below). Bristol then becomes a great city to really get out there and enjoy the English countryside. Running, biking, canoeing, hiking, and yes rock climbing. Situated near numerous gorges Bristol boasts a lively and active rock climbing culture.

So I thought to myself - "Self, why not try to do more things Brits do" - so Mike and I enrolled in a "tester" rock climbing course at a local center.

Undercover Rock

We go and I get all excited cause I think I going to love it and that afterward Mike and I will enroll in the beginners course, then we can get certified, and live happily ever after - ok maybe not but I thought as least this was one extreme sport we could do together. Then I actually see the climbing wall. I look up and my heart dropped - "What in the hell was I thinking?" But, I still think I can do this. For this session there are 4 of us total, Mike and I then two British girls. Our instructor Sean tells us that fear is natural so just go with it. I'm like cool. We get suited up (man I wish I had a pic, I felt and looked liked a slightly browned sausage with a helmet, but I digress...) and then it's my turn. I step up and grab hold, I then make is about 2 feet off the ground, looked down and said "I don't like this." It took me another 5 minutes to take my hands off the wall, lean back, and safely belay down to the ground.

Ok, first attempt - its expected. Mike goes and of course he climbs up the wall in like 10 seconds and gets to try harder and harder climbs during the hour. Me on the other hand, I was his support. I tightened the rope as he went up and released it on the way down. After three futile attempts by me my instructor says, well let's try you on the easiest route. I'm like ok, so we go and of course its the kids wall. Now, I know that I need to swallow my pride and realize that I am new to this and heights aren't my thing but your ego gets a bit damaged when, as a 28 year old woman, I can't make it past 2 feet off the ground and next to me are four 7 year olds climbing a difficult route...wait for it...BLINDFOLDED! YES, a kids team were practicing next me and they were racing each other blindfolded as dads stood around cheering them on. I, on the other hand, couldn't even go up the damn safety ladder next to the wall and just belay down. At the end of the hour I was tired, my hands were sore, and my ego was slightly (oh hell, really), bruised.

On the way home Mike asked me what I thought was holding me back. I thought about it and realized that I really don't like the idea of my feet leaving the ground. This has also been my problem in learning to swim. I am ok up to 6 feet of water, but when I can't touch the bottom I freak out and sink - very counterproductive. Same with the climbing business, I trust the rope and the pulley system, but once I can't put my feet on the ground, and all I can do is go up and rely on someone to bring me down to the ground, then the sensors in my brain and body shut down. My legs start twitching and I looked like I'm cracked out on meth. But, I don't want to give up. Climbing would help me in my mountaineering so I think I may try hypnotherapy. I have been talking about it for years, but what else can I do? My mind is tweaked out and goes into overload once the ground and feet part ways. So I'll wait a month and try again and next time I won't be next to blindfolded 7 year olds. I mean DAMN!

Tight groin

2009-11-06T07:35:00.000-08:00

I never knew I had a tight groin until today. Once a week I meet with my yoga instructor Nicole. I found her on gumtree.co.uk one day about 3 weeks ago while I was looking for a good astrologer - yes an astrologer. Her prices were reasonable and I knew that I needed to become more flexible so my back would stop freezing up (oh yea and maybe drop some of the excess "lovin" I had accumulated over the past 12 month, but I digress..). We emailed, she seemed legit and so I went to her house in Clifton (the really really nice area of town mind you) and...she ends up being American!

Yoga Nicole - she is the one on the right

It was funny at the time, although not as funny now on paper. But, anyway, we talked about what I wanted to get out of yoga and she explained that in the first month we would go through the basic yoga poses before we did an actual flow. I like this - I never really learned how to "do" yoga, so when I went to classes I was always in the back watching all the skinny ass, yoga pants and tank top wearing, women doing these intricate and painful moves. I always thought that I had a weak core and tight hamstrings, explaining why some moves were hard for me to do. Plus, standing over 6 feet tall makes that whole bending over, down, and backwards thing just plain unnatural and awkward looking. But, today I was proven wrong - my core is actually pretty strong, you just can't see it through my excess layers of skin, yet! Hamstrings are a bit tight, but nothing like they were before. No, today I found out that I have a tight groin. Yes, a tight groin and before you laugh it is painful man. And really who in the hell thinks of their groin as tight and not think sex off the bat? When did I find this out you may ask? I found this out attempting to do this move called "Warrior 2"

(In case you are wondering, no I have not turned into a skinny white lady who wears yoga pants and a tank top - this is a model.) To correctly do this pose you have to have a long stance with your back foot pointed at a 45 degree angle - not 60 or 90 but 45 degrees. The front leg should be bend, but not over the ankle and your hips should be pointed out, not in the direction of your legs. Your arms come out and you pull back with your arms, but pull forward with your legs. Point blank - this move hurt liked a bitch and I felt like someone was ripping my groin out of my body.

Yet, at the end of the session my body felt good. A bit tired from the run this morning, but nicely stretched with sufficent "uh's" and "you want me to do what" released through the session, the overall meeting was good and I feel myself slowly understanding this thing called yoga. So I continue to go to Nicole once a week until I am confident enough to walk back into the studio, knowing that I can bust out moves like this guy.

Ok, maybe not...but as least I won't be intimidated by the overly flexible women and half naked men who "do" yoga with their slender chiseled physiques. With my basketball shorts on and old t-shirt I will show them how this tall brown girl works a pose.

Weight Loss

2009-11-04T09:28:00.000-08:00

Ah the weight loss section. As a woman living in the Western world issues with weight are almost inevitable. Being to fat or to thin, not having enough ass or way to much, having to dark or to light of skin, boobs to big or to low - essentially any body part that can be picked apart and viewed as "not right" is constantly on the lips of the media and therefore on the minds of most women. The ideal Western woman body (white, 5'7, long straight hair, big perky boobs, flat ass, small waist, and 95 lbs) is one that is unachievable for most, yet we all fall victim in trying to reach this unattainable ideal. Celebrities are constantly in the news defending their "fat ass" or telling their "secret" of a skinny body. Even Oprah - one of the most powerful women in the world, I mean she picked and elected our last President for God-sakes - still feels like she has to defend her weight to the world.

I have my own weight issues as many women do. I am not unique in this respect and find it sad and infuriating that weight becomes the focal point of womanhood throughout Western society. But, my weight loss, gain, loss story is one that is central to my journey and so I tell it as a way to finally get it off my chest.

I was "fat" - not "thick." "big boned," or a "little chunky" but good old fashioned "fat" growing up. My mom is from the South and my parents owned a take-out rib restaurant so I was around rich, indulgent, enticing food all the time. I ate when I was hungry, happy, and celebrating. But, I also ate when I was sad, lonely, and scared. The latter feelings are ones I felt most of the time. My mother was a hard person to live with. Her expectations of us, her kids, were ones that were, and still are, unfeasible. So I ate, and I keep eating. The more people told me I was fat, the more I ate. Why not, I figured if you thought I was fat then I might as well live up to your expectations. But, I was also tall, really tall, and so I also figured that since I was big one way might as well be big the other way.

Interesting enough I was also athletic and pretty good at the sports I played. I found solace in volleyball as my height and weight were a benefit - well really the height, the weight just made things harder to do. But it got me through high school, and living with my mom, and it helped me find an initial niche when I went to college.

OHHH college - I loved every minute of it and hated about half of it. I entered college at around 270lbs and left weighing 333lbs. I made friends, went out, drank, learned some stuff in class - everything you associate with college life. But, I was never truly happy as I always knew I was the "funny fat friend" people could dump their emotions on. I allowed myself to be a garbage disposal for others emotions (I was use to it with my mom so really didn't know any better) and I turned my body into a dump for food. I didn't date because I thought I was ugly and fat, and I didn't take care of myself because I thought I wasn't good enough. Now- before I go further I am not looking for sympathy. I say these things because at the time they were real and part of my reality. This was my worldview and everything I did was because this is how I understood myself. But I digress...

Let's go on. When I left college I was really unhappy with how I looked, how I felt, and who I was hanging around with. My family life was not the best and the "friends" I held close to me were fickle to say the least. I moved down to Louisiana on my own to start my Masters program and this is where I essentially started to change how I saw myself and the world around me.

I was hot, sweaty, and overall uncomfortable when I first arrived in Baton Rouge. So, I decided that maybe I needed to lose weight. I hadn't weighed myself in years, afraid of what the scale would say - "YOU'RE FAT DUDE!" When I stepped on the scale, that is what it said. 333lbs. Now, that is alot of goddamn weight for a 22 year old ex-college athlete to hold, even at 6'3". So I joined LA weight loss and dropped over 80 lbs with them in 2 years. Interestingly, I didn't really learn how to balance diet and exercise. Instead, I learned how to manipulate what I ate to achieve a 2lb weight loss per week. In doing that I began to have an unhealthy relationship with food once again. This time I was afraid to eat certain things like "carbs" thinking this is what made me fat. I didn't really work out because I was told lifting weights would make me gain weight instead of lose it. Looking back the whole program was shit, but it got me results and in this world that is what the consumer wants - results.

During the summers of 2005 and 2006 I worked at two weight loss camps on the East Coast. These places were great because it created a bubble where all I had to do was work out, watch overweight kids, and eat "healthy well balanced" food made for me. So I lost more, this time the "healthy" way and was down to 210lb by the Fall 2006. I looked damn good, but all I saw in the mirror was a fat girl who was just less fat. No one warned me about the whole mental aspect of weight loss - not at LA weight loss, Weight Watchers, of the two camps I went to - and I didn't see it coming. How does someone deal with looking at a whole new body and person after seeing themselves a certain way for 25 years? To look in the mirror and not recognize the person staring back at you is a mind-fuck (excuse the language, but it really is). So as I was trying to wrap me head around the new physical me I was also dealing with the death of my father, a crazy ass mother, living in a city that I hated, and completing a Ph.D. program. (Really I was dealing with life and how it can bitch slap you up the face three times and then bend you over, but again I digress..) That is the thing fat camps and weight loss programs don't do. They don't really teach you how to live in the real world and embrace a new lifestyle of healthy eating and exercise.

The Problem with the Biggest Loser Show

So over the next 3 years I went up and down in weight as I balanced a stressful Ph.D. program, applying for grants, and a new relationship. The relationship was a good thing - we are still together and Mike moved to the UK with me to start a new life. But the other junk really took over my life and so I fell right back into bad habits that I picked up as a kid. I let food, and now alcohol, become my escape instead of running or lifting weights. Issues with my mom, which I will write on in a future post, began to come back and cut away at my self esteem. Being in academia with all the inherent psychological racism and elitism cut down the drive I had to keep going. So I stopped eating healthy and I drank alot, ballooning back up to 280lbs by the summer of 2009.

This picture was hard for me to look at, but it was a reality check. I moved away from East Lansing, MI July 6, 2009 and left for a 2 month trip around SE Asia, Istanbul, and Barcelona before settling with Mike in Bristol, England. Throughout that trip I was uncomfortable, lazy, hot, and sad. I saw amazing sights and met wonderful people but I didn't feel like me. I was back to how I felt when I was 21 leaving college and going to Louisiana. I had to take a step back and start re-evaluating what the hell I wanted out of life. In order for me to be happy with myself I had to take control over what I put in my body as well as what I did with my body. Did I want to be 30 and unable to walk - no. Did I want to wake up with constant back pain the rest of my life - no. Did I want to buy another wardrobe because I couldn't fit into my clothes - no. That is when I decided that I needed to start training for something and the half-marathon came to mind.

Now, I am down 10lbs, with a goal of getting to under 200lbs and 20-18% body fat by August 31, 2010. It really is not that hard to lose weight - it is called eating sensibly and exercising. Calories in vs calories out, but that is not sexy and it requires...guess what...WORK. I am ok with that. The other ways seemed like quit fixes for me - eat these things and you will lose weight or go away to a fat camp and shed all that unwanted excess lovin. But really it took me years to put on the weight so it might take years to get it off. Like I said in my first post I am happier all around now as I am living in place I like and have a boyfriend that is supportive and who I love. I also started to invest financially in me - instead of eating out 3-5 times a week or going drinking I pay to have a trainer once a week and do yoga with an instructor once a week as well. I keep a food journal and write down what goes in my mouth - this helped me see what I was actually putting in my body which allowed me to see all the crap I was disposing inside myself. Then, as all academics do, I read a book that really helped me rethink the whole "dieting culture."

The Body Fat Solution. I love this book - and no I am not trying to promote it for profit - it was the only pic I found that I could drag to my desktop and put in the blog! But anyway, I like how Venuto first addressed the psychological aspects of weight gain and weight loss before he even thought about going into food and exercise. He starts with explaining the power of the mind, citing scientific studies as his form of proof. He says that positive thinking is a great thing - but not in the vein of The Secret. He contends that when you start to think that you can do something, and you create vision boards, give yourself daily affirmations, and create goals that work towards the result, then you are training your mind to actually accomplish that goal. So the positive thinking, or reinforcement, gets you to take action towards accomplishing something - like weight loss. Honestly, this makes commonsense - but as my dad use to day not all sense is common (thanks Dad).

So the fact that he is grounded in science helped me to see the connection between the spiritual awaking of positive consciousness and the physical reality of "diet and exercise."

I find creating goals, setting targets, and having a plan allow me to balance the various parts of my life. Really, it is not that much more work. We all plan our days, our weeks, even our years. Our calendars are full of "to do lists" about work and social life, so why not include your physical and mental life on it as well. If we don't take of our mind and bodies then how in the hell are we to be productive in any other aspects of our lives? Don't believe the hype - you can't lose 30 lbs in 30 days if it took you 5 months to put it on - I mean it is simple math. But you can take the same amount of time it took to put on the weight and work it off. That is what I am planing to do. It took me really a year to put on the 70 lbs I gained and so I am expecting a year to take it off and then a lifetime of committing myself to truly loving my mind, body, and soul to keep it off. Yet, this doesn't mean me trying to fit into some "ideal acceptable type." Being physically, mentally, and spiritually healthy is my goal - not fitting into a size 4 jean because it is trendy. That is where lots of people get mixed up - losing weight because you are unhealthy and your body yearns to be at a smaller more manageable weight is very different then losing weight because you feel pressured by society, your friends, or your family to fit some ideal. So if you are on your own weight loss journey make sure you first understand WHY you are doing so before you begin.

Next time - yoga...

Me

2009-11-02T11:31:00.000-08:00

I have tried many times to begin this blog, but didn't know what to talk about or what to do. I see friends create them to update world travels, display new dishes they have made, or talk about the joys of new found motherhood. But me, I had no idea what to talk about. Then I had the famous "revelation in the shower" and realized I like to talk about, read about, and think about sports. Yes, I am an academic and I can debate about anything from politics to race to nation to identity. But really, in the long run it gets old...and who cares? You are who you are - but that doesn't get you funded so I leave those debates in the academic and political realms of society.

Instead I want to talk about me - my actual life goals and what I want to get out of this life. I have lost and gained weight over the past 6 years, thinking that if I was "smaller" I would be happier. Instead I have found myself going up and down in emotions, hating life at one minute and then embracing it the next. Exercising like a maniac and then eating and drinking myself into depression. The death of my father, graduate school, relationships - general life really - has placed me on a roller coaster. At one point I thought I had no control over the ride, no brakes or steering that would allow me to control the next direction.

Now, I have taken back the reins and re-evaluated this thing called life. I have let fear, anxiety, uncertainty, and good old doubt kept me from doing the things I have only dreamed about. What has been the difference you ask? For the first time I have decided where I want to live and what I want to do. I moved to Bristol, England to finish my degree with no real intentions to leave. I decided what I wanted to study and now I am deciding what I want to do with this thing called life. So I being my journey of conquering the fears that have held me back for so long.

I want to run in long distance races, compete in triathlons, learn yoga, become a spin instructor, rock climb, and climb mountains - no really climb real mountains around the world. And why the hell not? Life is worth living when you push your mind and body to the extremes. Doctors told me I wouldn't be able to run with my knees, height, back, weight - but I run. I was told I was not smart enough to get a Ph.d - but I am. I was told I wouldn't get funded for my research - but I have. So now I challenge myself to do the things that I have only dreamed about, and talked about, in a half-ass way.

I start with a half-marathon. The Prague Half Marathon to be exact. March 28th, 2010. I paid the entrance fee, have a vision board created, a trainer working with me, and the fear of actually running 13.1 miles keeping me going. So I use this blog to keep me honest, keep me motivated, and to keep track of my goals.
Prague Half Marathon 2010