The reason people treat me like I'm nothin' is 'cause I'm nothin'.

I am planning to run a half-marathon this fall, as I have for the last two years. The only problem is that back in February, I tore a muscle in my calf and I have only been able to run for a few weeks. Last week, my physical therapist cleared me to begin training for the half as long as I keep my pace slow and gradually build up the length of time I am running.

Yesterday I ran for 50 minutes and it was a little bit over 4 miles, so that's my longest time running since Thanksgiving Day when I ran in a 5-miler. That run yesterday felt pretty good and I was proud of myself for accomplishing it when only a few short weeks ago, I worried I may not ever run again.

As part of my desire to train safely and not re-injure myself, I decided to join Team in Training, the organization that helps people train for marathons and triathlons while fundraising to help find a cure for leukemia and other blood cancers. I thought I would benefit from the group atmosphere, guidance and coaching while easing myself back into running, AND raise money for a great cause.

At the Team in Training introductory meeting, the team leaders and coaches were nice, the other attendees were nice... it seemed like a good idea. I felt good about my decision to sign up and was excited about beginning the upcoming training schedule.

Schedule conflicts kept me from making the first couple of group runs but I made plans to attend today's, even though I'd run 4+ miles yesterday. The scheduled distance for today was 3 miles, which seemed doable.

After work, I changed clothes and headed to the city park designated as the site for that evening's run. This was one of the most popular parks in town and lots of people, dogs and bikes were swarming around the path which circled a small lake. I was a bit early so I stretched and walked around a bit to loosen up my calves. Gradually everyone else arrived and we all signed in and introduced ourselves, stating which event we were training for. About half the group were full marathoners, the rest half like myself. Of the full group, 6-7 were walkers.

The walkers and runners split up and we moved toward the path. I considered the rest of the pack- they were all 20-something, young, thin; they all seemed to know each other. No one spoke to me or even acknowledged me. I assumed as soon as we started off that I would be the last one in the group. And I was.

The plan was to run 1.5 miles to a turnaround point and head back. I knew I was not supposed to run fast, even fast by my standards. Yesterday's 50-minute run had included two 11.2-minute miles, which was WAY too fast for right now. I needed to stay at 12-minute miles.

The distance between me and the back of the pack stayed consistent, which told me that I was at least maintaining my pace, whatever it might be. I didn't really have any idea how fast I was going. At the back of the group were two guys who didn't seem to be all that speedy. I knew that if I had been un-injured I'd have passed them. But I didn't try.

The group turned a corner and I lost sight for a few minutes. When I came in sight of them again, one guy was stretching and the other one was walking. I thought it might be nice to have someone to talk to, so as I came closer to the one stretching I got ready to say hello and though maybe we could run together for a bit. When I was about 20 feet from him, he started running again. Now I know there was nothing intentional, but I felt slapped in the face. I'd already felt like a pariah. Now I felt worse.

When we reached the turnaround point, I checked my watch. At pace, I knew I should show around 18 minutes. Imagine my shock when I saw the time at a hair under 16 minutes. I'd been going WAY too fast.

I rounded the turn and began the run back. One of the Team coaches who'd been walking alongside the stretching guy came alongside me. I told her a little about my injury and how I was supposed to keep it slow. She stayed with me for a quarter-mile or so, then hung back to walk with the other slowish guy, who'd been stooping over his right leg and rubbing it. I passed them and decided to take a walk break at 26 minutes. I began a pattern of running/walking, and finished in 33.03 minutes- imagine if I'd run it all! I couldn't believe it. The official distance was like 2.95 miles, but still! I'd passed the two guys in the back of the group and actually finished well ahead of them.

I reached the lakeside area where all the other runners were stretching, talking and drinking water. As I walked toward the fence to stretch, no one said a word. I had just achieved what was, to me, a major victory, considering I'd been unable to run for over 2 months and had come out of some very depressed mental places.

I ran (practically) 3 miles in under 34 minutes. On a good, un-injury-recovery-day, I'd be happy with that. Yet these skinny bitches looked at me like I carried some nasty contagion- as if being a 40, slightly overweight slow runner were a virus you could catch. It was high school all over again.

I turned to continue stretching even though I really didn't need to any more. I gazed out over the lake and felt an overwhelming urge to cry. Why was I doing this if the hoped-for guidance and support were nonexistent? Behind me the chatter continued and I wished someone would say something. Sure, I could have jumped into their conversation. I'm not afraid to talk to people. My mood worsened as I chided myself for lacking the nerve to do so. But by that point I didn't want to try.

The walkers began to filter in at this point. By contrast, they were chatting animatedly and seemed like a fun group. Of course, they were older and obviously had a lot more in common with me than the runners. I felt like I should have gone with them, and that the runners were probably thinking the same thing. "Look, as slow as you are, really, what's the point? Just go with the walkers."

I imagined they all secretly laughed at my explanation about my injury and the reasons why I needed to keep the pace slow. "Sure, sure..." they thought. "I pity her, poor middle-aged woman, trying to make us believe she's going slow on purpose. It's probably as fast as she can go. I'd hate to be like that." (Of course, I have no idea what anyone was truly thinking, but that's how I felt.)

It was weird. I didn't know what was supposed to happen next- was there a post-run discussion? Would we talk about how our run went and get tips or advice on how to improve?

Not really. Already feeling like an outsider, I just stood around as the rest of them took off in twos and threes. I eventually just left and got in my car, chugging half my bottle of water and feeling chilly.

As I drove home, I continued to fight that wave of sadness that threatened tears. I hadn't felt like this since I finished my first 10-miler back in 2006. My family was supposed to be at the finish to cheer for me as I crossed the line. But they took too long leaving the house and were nowhere to be found as I came in from what was, at that point, the longest distance I'd ever run. I walked among the parked cars, sobbing; others hugged their spouses and kids... but I had no one. A bit later I found them- they'd missed the finish by only 10 minutes or so. But it was really hard.

Tonight- I should have been happy and proud- I'd run 3 miles in a great time under the circumstances. Instead I felt ashamed, isolated and more than a little stupid.

At home, I changed clothes and got something to eat. I found a voice mail reminding me of the official Team in Training kick-off event, tomorrow night- and how EXCITING! it would be!! I knew I would go but I wasn't very excited about it.

I hope things get better. I want to enjoy this. Hopefully I will be able to turn things around.

God, I'm so sick of this rain. Remind me never to take my honeymoon at Niagara Falls.

At last today the sun finally came out, late in the afternoon. Too bad it wasn't in time to really take advantage of it and get out to do much of anything. Soccer ended just shy of being rained out, which was one additional bonus.

Still no word on the audition. They warned us it could be August before any notification is sent out. I am sure I'll overthink it as usual and try to read deeper meaning into the length of time it takes for me to hear from them... "The longer it takes, that means I got a part! If they didn't want me, they'd say so right away, wouldn't they??" Um, no, not necessarily.

If I don't get cast at all, I will seriously want to get some feedback. But it that cool? Should I even go there? I think it's OK, as long as I am not obnoxious about it. If there is something specific I can work on to improve my chances for next time, I defintely would like to know.

I saw "Iron Man" and LOVED it, so much so that I added Robert Downey Jr. to the list of Smokin' Hot Real Men I Adore. He joins Rob Morrow (star of NUMB3RS) and Dennis Quaid (just watched "The Rookie") in the top three.

Fourteen years ago

Fourteen years ago I had a fantastic audition. It got me cast in a great show and I made a lot of money. Had I not gotten pregnant, it could have led to things like, oh, a European tour of "Phantom." But, c'est la vie.

I am channeling that wonderful experience today and giving all my hope toward a great audition tonight. In honor of that previous audition, I duplicated what I did that day in 1994. I went out running. I ran for 40 minutes!! I am very happy. I'm well on the way to recovery and regular running.

Next I'll warm up and see how things feel.

Must the Winter Come So Soon?

A long time ago, when I was a voice major at a lovely little midwestern university, I sang a lot of opera.

Then I went for a long time where I did only musical theater. I love musical theater- probably more than opera if I had to pick one- but something in me can't stop thinking that I have to prove I can still hang with the opera crowd. So I'm auditioning this weekend. I've just finished 3 shows in (practically) a row, so at least I've been singing. I wouldn't have tried this otherwise.

I dusted off a couple of pieces that I think I can pull off reasonably well. If I get cast, it will be gravy. I'm just hoping to finish the audition without making a fool of myself. I haven't quite come out and said so, but I almost think that if this fails, I won't try again. I'll admit I am really nervous. I only found out about the audition last week, so I had to make a decision fast.

The title of this post is one of my arias. It's beautiful and sad; by the American composer Samuel Barber from his opera "Vanessa." I plan to lead off with this one. It's about living in a place where the winters are so long, where "neither dawn nor sunset marks the passing of the days." But when I sing it, it has a new meaning for me. For me, "winter" is growing older, changing, having fewer options, feeling like life may have passed you by. I don't want that winter to come. I hope that when I sing it I can bring some of that longing and sadness to bear and let it show in the song.

The other piece is totally different- it's classic Mozart; one of Cherubino's arias from Figaro- the ebullient "Non so piu cosa son cosa faccio." I think it will a great contrast to the Barber. I plan to begin on the third page because I won't sacrifice anything by leaving the opening out; plus I'd rather not be cut off for time. That can really throw you. I'd rather choose to sing less of the song and be in control of my time. Cherubino is a boy played by a mezzo and he is just a silly love-struck goofball, so I hope I am relaxed enough to be playful and show a lot of personality.

Now, I will let you in on a secret: I am not a mezzo. But I know lots of sopranos sing "Non so piu" so it's sort of on the fence. I will grant you that the Barber is hands-down a mezzo piece. So why am I singing them? The truth is, I could not find any soprano arias I felt comfortable enough to have ready in a week. So maybe it's a cop-out. Maybe it's fear. Whatever.

I've been listening to Frederica Von Stade's recording of the Mozart and Denyce Graves' version of the Barber. I love Von Stade and think I can employ some of the little stylistic things she does to good effect. I will never sound like Denyce; her voice is one of those big warm velvety mezzos that just pours out and fills the room. But this aria won't be disserved by my lack of that type of tone quality. I think I'll more than do it justice. I'm going to do some nice things with dynamics to (hopefully) add some pathos.

Wish me luck!

Crabby kids, sick husbands

Woo hoo, it's a fun household tonight.

My husband is sick a lot. He catches any germ in a 25-mile radius and is the world's biggest baby when he's sick. He refuses to speak in a remotely appropriate volume level, choosing instead to barely raise his oh-so-tired voice above a wheezy whisper. So, I make him repeat himself several times becasue I refuse to play that game. He snaps at the kids, horks up disgusting loogies and sucks down Nyquil like it's the world's last bottle of Jack Daniels the day before Prohibition kicks in.

I'm so rarely sick I have no sympathy. I guess it's all in how you were raised. His mom probably babied him as a kid when he was sick. My parents, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less. So I just don't buy it. Having a cold does not entitle you to behaving like a barely functioning mouth-breather.

I suppose I shouldn't be such a hardass but the wallowing and the sniffling and the whining all just raise my hackles like nothing else. God, it's annoying.

Shot to hell? Not so much.

This just in-

So, yes, I took a nap. But after that, I hauled my ass out to my favorite running trail and ran a little over 3 miles, in 38 minutes. That's 7 more minutes and one more mile than I've been running since I was allowed to start running again. Let me tell you, I was thrilled.

Of course I wanted to run more, but I remembered what my physical therapist told me and held back. No sense overdoing it. I was so inspired that I signed up for a Memorial Day 5-mile run, so I damn well better be hitting the road with regularity in the next few weeks. Nothing like having a goal!

I'll also be making a training plan for the half-marathon very soon. This will be my third one and I am determined to finish in under 2 1/2 hours.

After losing so much time in the traffic jam earlier, I definitely feel better about how today turned out.

You were right Johnny, you can't win no matter what you do!

I have been stuck in traffic- it took over TWO HOURS to go about 6 miles. It was excruciating. I could have run that far in less time, even given my current post-injury slowness.

There was no way out- no exits, no side roads, NOTHING.

I was hungry, I had to pee, NO ONE would answer when I called/texted to commiserate with. I was truly trapped in the twilight zone of traffic jams.

I found out later a 5-6 car wreck was the cause but when I finally got through, there was nothing there. It seemed like the world had shut down for no reason. Thank GOD I had just gotten gas or I would have run out for sure. I rarely have more than half a tank at any given time so that was truly a miracle.

My whole day is now shot to hell. All the things I was planning to do... I think I'll just take a nap.