Meet the newest member of my family

Isn't she pretty? Her name's Colette, and this past week I drove to Hattonfield, New Jersey to pick her up. For those who don't know their East Coast geography (which would include the author of this blog entry), Hattonfield is just across the river (I forget which one) from Philadelphia. Since I have friends who live less than an hour from Philadelphia, I turned this trip into a play opportunity. It was also helpful that my friends have a van, because if we'd gone over in my VW Bug, which was the original plan, somebody would have had to walk home from Jersey.

Here's me in the store, pretending I know how to play the harp:



Six weeks of lessons over three years ago definitely doesn't make me a harpist. Tracy: I apologize publicly if your children now beg you for harp lessons after my harp was sitting in your living room for a couple of days.

Note to self: always be sure the tuner key is on the string you actually pluck before tuning. Otherwise, you might overtighten and break a string.

So back to the harp purchasing adventure. As we were driving across the river whose name I don't remember (Delaware, perhaps?), I commented that I'd never been in New Jersey before. Here's how the conversation went:

Tracy: Well, this part of New Jersey's the armpit of the state.
Me, as we drove through an industrial district: Yup.

Then we turned a corner and found this cute, Norman Rockwell-esque neighborhood. Tree-lined streets, nicely maintained yards, kids with a lemonade stand at the end of the driveway. So fun! This was the neighborhood where the harp store was. Nice!

I know what many readers are thinking: how did you get the harp in your VW? Answer: strategically. I folded down all seats besides mine and laid the harp as flat as I could. So if you want me to play a gig sometime, anyone else who comes along has to drive separately. Or Colette the harp needs to drive herself, which somehow I don't think is possible.

So here's the scary part: this is a SMALL harp. If I had a spare $15 K hanging around, I could get one of the big concert harps, but then I'd have to also buy a minivan. And probably a new house.

In other random news, here are my piano keyboard toes, courtesy of Niki:

Maybe next time she can paint harps.

Decker's Creek, Take Two

Two years ago, I decided to run the Decker's Creek Half Marathon. I won the caboose award for taking a whopping 3 hours and 45 minutes to cross the finish line. It was hot. I walked nine miles of the race.

Last year, I wanted to run the race again so I could do better. Unfortunately, health circumstances interfered.

So as soon as I was cleared by the doctor to start running again, I set my sights on this year's race, which happened this morning. Training for the long runs went pretty well for a couple of months, but then the random pain issues started popping up: an injured right hip during yoga (no more downward dog for me!), a mysterious tightened right calf that literally stopped me in mid-run one morning, a sore right ankle-- from wearing heels, of all things, a mis-step on a long run that hurt my left knee two weeks before the race. I worked through them, telling myself that I'd worked too hard to let anything get in the way. I was going to run this race no matter what.

For years I've compared running to how we need to deal with life: no matter what happens, you just keep moving. It's all about progress and enduring to the end. There are lots of factors you can't control. I got on the bus up to the trail head this morning wondering how this race would turn out. Would my knee be okay? What would the temperature be like by the end? I'd done everything I could to be ready.

Wasn't ready for the rain that started just as the race started. Correction: I was ready in the sense that I had a rain coat (which I didn't put on for some strange reason) and a hat (which I did put on). What I wasn't ready for was how hard and long-lasting the rain was. Usually rain only lasts a few minutes here, and usually it's a few drips. Not today. Today it rained for the first three miles of my race. If I had been home when the rain started, I would have considered not running. I've never run in this hard of rain. My shoes starting making schlooshy noises. My shirt stuck to me. Water dripped steadily off the brim of my hat. The trail got very, very muddy.

But you know what? I was going to finish this thing! I actually did pray for the rain to stop, and it did. Hurray! The rain made things cool and fairly comfortable. Well, until just after mile 11, when I hit a wall. Good thing friends were cheering from the sidelines at that point. I kept going. I reached mile 12. My feet were tired of being wet and wrinkly by that point. My quads hurt. I walked-- maybe a quarter of a mile. I hit the half-mile mark and made myself keep moving.

Final time: 2 hours 21 minutes. Yeah!! 362nd place! I'm just glad I finished, and I finished 20 minutes faster than I thought I would. Other than being wet, the first 10 miles felt GREAT! Most of all, I'm proud of reaching my goal: finishing.

Now ask me if how well I'll be walking the next few days.

Here's a picture to give you a sense of how muddy the trail was. You know how bike wheels splash up mud on rainy days? Kinda the same effect: