Tybee Island, Georgia.

Tybee Island, Georgia.

Jeanne and I decided to get up and run 10 kilometers this morning. She shuffled through the covers to wake me up at around 6:30 a.m. I had been dreaming of a time in the not-too-distant future when people started distrusting meteorologists and started listening to and interpreting the patterns of bird calls to predict the weather. It seemed like a futuristic science fiction novel in which common people begin to whisper conspiratorially that we must return to the ancient ways and rebel against soul-sucking technology. I had been leaning by a window with opened shutters listening to the birds outside my window when I suddenly felt someone shuffling through the covers, jabbing me awake. "Wake up, Mel. It's 6:30."

Still groggy, I slapped on my running clothes, silently cursing my recent decision to run a half-marathon in December. We slipped outside of our beachfront hotel room. We stood by the front of sign in front of the hotel on Butler Avenue, the main street that winds along the coast of Tybee Island. I caught a glimpse of the sky, still dark, but slightly tinted with a pink glow, the beginnings of a beach sunrise. Jeanne must have seen it too, because she suddenly said, "This is gonna be a good run."

Funny how the sky can change your mind about things.

As we stretched, I looked at the sign that said "DeSoto Beachfront Hotel: Tybee Island's only beachfront hotel! Come enjoy our beachfront pool." Guess they wanted you to know the hotel was on the beach front.

We started jogging on a gravel path that wound around all sorts of old beachfront homes, the kind of unpretentious, cheerful houses dripping with polite Southern charm that you imagine have creaky floorboards and rusty hinges. The paint is chipped, following years of being salted by the sea and warmed by the Georgian sun. They are draped and shadowed by oak, sycamore and sugarberry trees.

The streets crossing this lone gravel path have names like Anderson and Campbell and I imagine small clans and families settling in these houses by the sea. I imagine barbecues and house parties and weddings. When we passed through Savannah yesterday, we passed Liberty Avenue, an impressive boulevard sheathed in a canopy of oak and Spanish moss, with sentinels of enormous mansions of colonnades and wraparound porches lining the street. Jeanne commented on the history of the boulevard, saying, "These houses saw Sherman."

We are separated only by two centuries.

The thing I noticed about Tybee Island is that there are lots of conversation areas. It's as if this island was discovered and settled solely for the purpose of conversation in mind. Wooden park benches, deck chairs, cafe tables in patios lined with tiki torches and Chinese lanterns. Lots of intimate, well-worn spaces gradually carved out by the gentle erosion of time. I noticed a pair of wooden deck chairs perched on a dock that nestled its way through a swamp of tall sawgrass. Even trailers of row boats and skiffs lining the driveways evoked images of friends, families and lovers sharing hazy sundrenched days together. I do love how the sea breeze and sand seem to conspire to cling to everything. The blades of grass, the gravel, half-submerged fences by the sea, my pockets, my hair, my clothes.

The gravel has ended and we have made our way back to the main drag.

We raced the fences lining Butler Avenue, passing a row of churches that suddenly seemed brighter. Jeanne pointed to a whitewashed, wooden building with a sign that said "The Optimist Club. We wish you a safe and prosperous stay."

"Wonder where the Cynics Club is."

"Across the street."

"I imagine it's easy to be an optimist when you wake up to the sunrise every morning."

"Yeah, especially a sunrise on the beach."

I read a caution sign that said: Slow Church Zone. I laughed.

I saw a flock of seagulls escape and veer off through the trees, rising and disappearing into the sky. We passed through a grove of trees, and even through my headphones I could hear cicadas screaming for my attention. They overpowered the electric guitar and drums blasting through my iPod.

I felt a sudden burst of energy. I suddenly remembered my meal from the other night, which included a cilantro potato salad. I thought of all those carbohydrates and felt an affectionate surge of gratitude toward my dinner last night. "Thank you, potato salad," I cheered out of nowhere. I looked over at Jeanne. She is oblivious to my triumphant shout to potato salad, fully absorbed in her own solitude, set to the music of her iPod.

We are on the homestretch. I see our beachfront hotel with the beachfront pool by the beachfront sign in the distance. My feet are rebelling, grumbling and interrogating me as to why I haven't bought thicker socks. But my endorphins are in ecstasy.

This was a good run.

My First 10K

Back from a long hiatus of uninspired blogging, I finally found something I believe is blog worthy...

I finished my first ever 10K on Sunday. Jeanne, Dana and I ran in the Florida Hospital 10K in Celebration. I had often attended these running events as a supporting friend or family member when my dad has run his marathons or Paige has run her half marathons.

This time, I attended as a runner, which was a huge accomplishment to me. If you told me 4 months ago I would be running a 10K, I would have laughed in your face. (And if you know me, you know that's true...;)

In preparation for this 10K, Jeanne and I had been following Hal Higdon's Novice 10K training program, although we modified it to suit our needs. For instance, I was not cool with following a training schedule that didn't even have me run 6 miles at ALL prior to the race, so we definitely incorporated that into the schedule. Also, the second to last week--supposedly the most rigorous week in which you're supposed to push yourself--I ran 6 miles on Sunday, 5 on Tuesday, then approximately 6 miles again in Seattle. Also, I know averaging 11 minute miles is really slow, but my main goal in running this was to simply run from start to finish without stopping. I think now that I've finished a 10K, if I ever do one again, I would work harder at improving my time.

I discovered a few things while training that last week.

-First of all, I LOVE running in the cold. When we had that cold snap in central Florida on Tuesday morning, I feel like I could run forever. That theory was further confirmed when we went running in Seattle. I don't know why, but I feel much better running in 50 degrees, or even upper 40s as opposed to upper 70s or lower 80s. That Sunday I ran with Jeanne, I had a ROUGH time, mostly because a) I'm not used to running around lots of cars and traffic b)The sun was beating down and there was no shade c) I was not familiar with the route. It's so interesting how so many factors play into whether or not you have a good run.

Running Seattle was by far the best experience for me. Jeanne and I ran a trail that runs next to the University of Washington campus. The first couple of miles were lovely, running on a trail with a canopy of yellow and red autumn leaves over us. Then the trail took us by the river and under some cool footbridges. The route was incredibly scenic and I had Death Cab for a Cutie's "Plans" to keep me pumping for nearly an hour. Good memories of running in Seattle:)

-Also, I discovered DURING the race that I actually can run and talk at the same time. Whenever Jeanne and I have run together, we both put on our iPod headphones and barely talk to each other, except for pointing out something funny every now and then. Also, Jeanne likes to run like Dwight from the Office occasionally, which always makes for good entertainment.

Dana joined us for the 10K, and she is a huge proponent of talking. I found that although it was difficult to sustain talking toward the end of the race, it made the first 3-4 miles incredibly enjoyable. I didn't need to use my headphones for the entire race. And now I have a new friend:)

-I was intrigued by the competitive speed walking which sounds as legit as Olympic curling, but I was further shamed when a few overzealous competitive speed walkers actually PASSED us, we who were running. So I stand corrected.

-I had hoped somebody would have shot a gun into the sky to start the race. That was my wish. Sadly, that did not happen.

-Also, I wore my lucky pants. They haven't failed me yet. See below:)

my dream log

Every once in awhile, I have these vivid, crazy dreams. I have had a couple memorable ones lately, so I thought I’d share, before they diffuse into the black hole that is commonly known as my memory…

For starters, I had quite a scary dream that I was with a bunch of friends and for some reason we were staying overnight in a cheap motel. I went outside and noticed that there was a sketchy guy that was watching and following me. I was scared he would follow me back to our room, so I began to book it, and he began to chase me. I made it to the motel room alright and slammed the door behind me. I told my friends about Sketchy Man and we collectively decided it would be a good idea to call the police.

Unfortunately, somehow by calling 911 that alerted the police to my presence which apparently was not a good thing. Suddenly, they were after ME. I don’t know why. I hadn’t done anything illegal (as far as I know)…

After splitting up from my friends, I remember running through the streets of an enormous, unfamiliar, extremely modern city. There was one particularly large and imposing concrete building that I remember running through as I was evading and avoiding the sound of police sirens.

Fortunately for me, I had somewhat of a flying ability. Not quite Superman-esque, but I could at least take large leaps in the air, covering an entire city block in one bound, much like how Peter Parker can run and leap across adjoined buildings.

So that definitely helped me stay one step ahead of the police for most of the pursuit. Not bad when you can leap buildings in a single bound.

I somehow got the idea that it would be smart to disguise myself, so I ducked into a hat shop in a mall. Only one problem, as you may or may not know, I have a major hat fetish, a quirk that unfortunately translated into my dream. I spent about 15 minutes in the hat shop, trying on a number of different hats, mostly plaid but I saw a couple cute dark red ones. Eventually, I noticed the shop owner nervously clutching a phone in one hand and looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

I figured that somehow the police had sent out a wire to be on the lookout for me, faxing my picture to all law enforcement agencies and shop owners apparently. Then I realized that they probably already had access to my account information. So I realized that as soon as I swiped my credit card to buy the hat, they would know exactly where I was. Then I realized that I probably should just go to an ATM and dump as much cash as I could out of my account, in case I had to stay on the run for awhile. So I finally gave up on buying a hat.

The shop owner tried to block me from leaving the store, but I somehow made it past him. Then I heard the sirens.

So I started running/leaping/semi-flying away.

I made it safely away.

All of a sudden, I felt like I was in the Old Town section of a smaller European city, and it looked a bit like Heidelberg. The buildings were older and the streets had more of a cobblestone look. I ran into a friend from high school. At first she was friendly to me, but then she accused me of stealing her boyfriend (which also was not true), but she threatened to turn me into the police as revenge.

Then I woke up.

So essentially, the dream was about me running away. Chasing dreams are quite normal apparently. I was glad that I could at least somewhat fly in this one. That helped in my anxiety to escape the police. I hate those dreams when you’re trying to run away and your feet just sink you down lower into the ground.

Unfortunately, I don’t think this dream reveals anything particularly flattering about me. Running away in dreams for me often signifies that I am attempting to avoid confrontation, which is usually true. I have gotten better over the years at confronting, but it’s not my strongest suit. Also it tends to signify that I am anxious about something. Which is probably true.

I also had a dream last night that I went to a Brooke Fraser concert, and met her afterwards. I think this may be due to the fact that I fell asleep listening to “Albertine” on my iPod and that worship band sang “Hosanna” at Status last night. But who knows.

In the dream, Brooke actually seemed a bit withdrawn and none-too-psyched about meeting people after her show for some reason, which I can’t imagine happening in real life because she seemed really open-hearted and easy going at the conference, but in my dream, I began to tell her about Hananasif and she was keenly interested in the orphanage. We began to swap stories about our experiences in East Africa. In the end, she seemed really interested in supporting the orphanage.

The Running Dream inspired me to write a song called “Say Good-bye.” It’s a bit mainstream sounding, but it’s fun for me to sing, at any rate. It’s definitely not even remotely the best song I've ever written, but it was also good for me to poke fun at my weaknesses with irony and make it sound somewhat melodic;)

Say Good-bye

I grew up in a town
That was born for the wind
And bears anyone, everyone
Farther away, farther away

I came so much closer this time
To being someone who is brave
And marvelous, effortless
At giving away, giving away

Chorus

Spinning and swaying and breaking away
Taking my cue from the sky
Coming full circle, it’s better this way
I don’t have to say good-bye

Kinder words
Have been spent on beckoning me
But I want your honesty, honestly
When I walk away, I walk away

Spinning and swaying and breaking away
Taking my cue from the sky
Coming full circle, it’s better this way
I don’t have to say good-bye

I’m taking and turning and burning away
All of the things left behind
[i don't like this line so who knows what'll go here...]Maybe some day
I’ll learn how to say good-bye