I did it!!!

 

I am a finisher in the first ever Rock ‘n’ Roll Portland Half Marathon! I ran the race yesterday, cheered on by my friends and thousands of random people. It was amazing, and because I loved it so much, I will now relive it for you…

I ran 13.1 miles in two hours and six minutes. That’s about a 9 ½ minute mile and 13 minutes faster than I thought I could run. It feels so good to have committed to something and followed through with it all the way to the finish. My training the past few months really paid off.

Race day dawned grey and rainy--but only by Oregon standards, which means it was just a light drizzle -- perfect for running. A few other friends ran the race too, so my friend and I started in the same “corral,” way back almost at the end of the line of 20,000 or so runners. When the gun went off, we cheered and pumped ourselves up for the run, and then waited 20 minutes to take off. Despite the wait, I’m glad I started near the back, because the entire race I passed people instead of being passed. Mentally, this is great. The minute I feel someone is overtaking me, I lose confidence, but if I’m constantly passing other people, I feed off of that accomplishment and push myself further. I also hate running next to people, and when there are thousands of people on the same route you can’t avoid this, so I had to pass people to escape them. Consequently, I ran a faster pace than I thought I could. Thanks to my training, I did this without dying at the end. Instead, when I rounded the last bend and tackled my final mile, I sped up, and sprinted the final 100 meters to the finish line. Knowing that I could run so far and still have energy left for a final sprint convinced me that this whole thing was not a lucky incident driven by adrenaline, but the result of commitment and hard work. It feels so good.

Until I started running long distances for this race, I had never experienced a “runner’s high.” But now I know what it is, and I’m addicted. I want to go running today, but my legs need a rest. So now what do I do? Should I do another half marathon? Races are expensive, and that much running is tough on my body, but it feels so good!

Luckily, running is not my only hobby. I also love musical theater, so while I was in Portland this weekend I caught a local production of “Spring Awakening,” a story of angsty teens in 19^th century Germany. I had already seen the show in D.C., but loved it so much that I wanted to see it again. My friend Bridget and her parents took me out to dinner and to see the show the night before my big race, and it was magical. Even more so because while we watched our show, a local high school held its prom in the courtyard below, so at intermission we were entertained by teens parading around in white tuxes and long silky dresses. I felt like I had time traveled from the 19^th century back to the present, only to witness the same social scene, young love, youthful merriment, and timeless teen dramas.

When we were in Portland, my friend made a comment that sums up how I feel about my life right now. She said, “I needed this. I need to come to Portland once in a while to remind myself that I live in such a small world down in Roseburg. Everything there seems so important, but when I go to Portland I realize that there is so much more.” I agree. I’ve been so caught up in work and how bored I am in Roseburg that I forgot that life isn’t always like this. Even though I live in the unhealthiest, most obese county in the state, running 13.1 miles with thousands of fit people reminded me that the whole world does not live like people in Douglas County do. There is a whole city only three hours from where I live that is full of young, intelligent, hip, (although mostly unemployed) people. I may not be into the hipster thing, but at least I know they exist. I’m excited to go back to Portland next weekend for a bluegrass concert and to just relax.

*Also, I am now officially a Douglas County OSU Extension Master Food Preserver. And I won a pressure canner at my last Food Preserver class! So when I come home, expect me to be making some delicious canned and dry goods for y’all!

Running from Boredom

Ouch. I hurt. I moved at a half-pace all morning at work because I’m so sore. Why? I ran twelve miles yesterday (!!!!!) Back in November, I decided to run a half marathon in May. I wanted to commit to something and follow through, wanted to feel proud of an accomplishment, just in case everything I was supposed to accomplish at work fell through. Well, I have accomplished the running bit and the work bit, and this Sunday I’ll be running through the streets of Portland (13.1 miles to be exact), cheered on by my awesome friends and maybe a few athletic hipsters (do those exist?). I haven’t written in a very long time and I apologize. Anyone who was reading this has probably given up on me at this point, but just in case you have the random urge to check on my blog, here’s a surprise! So why haven’t I written? Well, it could be any number of things…

 1. I got bored with Roseburg. I’ve given up complaining about the blind spots and accepted them (and the five lane highways all over the place) as part of life. When I run, I run the same path, more or less. I love the path along the river that I mentioned before and it never gets old. Usually I can’t run the same route more than a couple times in a row, but I run this one religiously. It reminds me that despite all of the poverty and depressing weather here, I’m living in a beautiful place.

 2. I got bored with work. During the winter months, I ran out of garden food to preserve and play with, and got stuck in the doldrums of less work. I find that I’m much happier if I have too much to do than if I don’t have enough to do. My guilty conscious gets the better of me if I watch Youtube videos instead of work. But I’m working on that. No need to feel guilty for giving myself a break once in a while.

 3. I got bored with my social life. I love, love my friends here. They are super supportive and fun and non-judgmental. Some of the coolest people I’ve befriended in my life. And we have a lot of fun together. We’ve gone on lots of hiking excursions to find more waterfalls, danced our feet off at the Zoo, made homemade beer, held potlucks brimming with tasty food, gone skiing, hung out, gone camping, and many other things. I should have written about these fun activities, but they seemed so normal that I didn’t have the heart to write the experiences down. And despite being surrounded by great people, I’ve felt a little lonely so far from home. I miss my family and old friends and can’t wait to see them in August.

 4. I got bored with the weather. Which is not hard to do. All winter it either rained and stayed grey and depressing, or got really sunny. I kept saying, “what? There’s no rain. It’s just a mist. Where’s the thunder and lightning and downpours?” The rain only occasionally got heavy (and when it did, it flooded my running/bike path) but it wasn’t enough to make me love the sunny days. And there seemed to be a lot of sunny days despite the Roseburgers’ insistence that it is never sunny here in the winter. Now, the weather is hot and sunny and cloudless. Which is great, and I love nice weather. But I can’t remember a spring ever happening. It just got nice all of a sudden. And I love my seasons. I’ve realized that I need definite seasonal weather changes to keep myself on track. If the leaves don’t fall in October and the ground isn’t muddy in March, my body and mind don’t know what to do!

So basically, life has been good here, and I’m really glad I’m here. I love my job and I love my friends. I love the area I live in. But I haven’t written because I feel bored. And when I’m bored I don’t like to write. But the fact that I’m writing right now means that things are looking up and I’m excited about something. Maybe all the fun things I’ll get to do with elementary students this summer, or my half marathon on Sunday, or the concert in Portland I’m going to in a couple weeks, or more camping trips, or swimming in the river this summer, or going to the coast, or going home (I really like that one). I’ll write more this summer, I promise.

Can’t wait to see you all again, whoever and wherever you are!

All I want for Christmas is an apron

I think the rain came to Roseburg. Not sure, really. I’ve experienced more sunny days and misty days than grey, miserable rainy days. Oregonians must just be weak. Since I’m from a hardier Midwest stock, I’ve been gazing out the window at work, hoping and praying that I see a snowflake. No luck. So I’ve flown all the way back to Michigan in search of a real, live snowflake. Still no luck.

Actually, there is snow here, just not much. My friend Abby and I flew from Portland to Detroit Sunday and when we stopped at my favorite West Branch gas station (and pumped our own gas!) we jumped out of the car, ran screaming to the edge of the icy parking lot, and stomped around in the half inch of snow that sprinkled the ground. “Snow! Snow! Snow!” we screamed. “Whoopeeee!—Oh, dang, it’s cold outside. I’m going back to the car.” Oh yes, I have found snow, and cold weather, and at home in Petoskey there’s even a bit of the stuff here and there. But I hope to experience a whistling, mind-numbing, nostril hair-freezing, hair-wetting snowstorm while I’m here. Please, St. Nick, won’t you send a little snow? I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.

Back in Michigan for a couple weeks, I will recount some of the events that happened recently in Roseburg. First, I….uh. Hmmm. What have I been doing? Living? Being happy? Making Christmas cookies, Christmas wreaths, listening to Christmas music non-stop, annoying my roommates with my untamable Christmas cheer? Yes, all of those.

I’ve especially enjoyed this Christmas season because for once I finally have time to do fun things like baking and decorating. In college I was too busy and stressed to do more than piece together a hasty card for friends and could only dream about making cookies. Now that I have too much time on my hands, my domestic side has reared its big sugar-sprinkled head. We had a holiday potluck last week and invited old and new AmeriCorps friends over to our apartment. Usually I make too much food for our potlucks, so this time I tried to reign in my newfound cooking zeal. I decided not to make an entrée and let the others deal with that. Instead, I made egg nog, peppermint bark, and spinach artichoke dip -- I sense that I have inherited some of my family’s cook-and-eat-too-much-at-gatherings genes. I love being at the stove in the kitchen while guests arrive, just putting the finishing touches on dish X, Y, or Z. I love getting compliments on the food I make—the peppermint bark was almost a disaster (I burned the chocolate) but I salvaged it into something more than edible and I think people actually liked it. I’ve found my way of saying thanks, saying I care, and that’s through food, through hosting, through making people at ease and sharing hearty conversation over a hearty meal.

This culinary awakening shouldn’t be as surprising as it is. I’m starting to think I couldn’t have picked a better AmeriCorps position, and maybe it wasn’t as random an adventure as I thought. I spend most of my time cooking food and trying to get students to see the countless ways that making healthy, sustainable food can improve their lives and the world. Last summer, when I debated moving out to Oregon, I think the school garden’s juicy produce called to me across the country. I didn’t hear it with my ears, though. I heard it with my stomach. Or, more likely, my taste buds.


Oh yeah, although I’m obsessed with cooking, I do participate in other activities. Last weekend we drove to the coast and hiked around the Oregon Dunes. Beautiful, and bigger than Sleeping Bear, I hear—take a look at some pictures.

Waiting for the rain

It’s mid-November in the Pacific Northwest and I’m looking out a coffee shop window at sunshine. Not what I expected when I came out here. I’m still waiting for The Rain to come. It drizzled a little last night but it’s nice out again. I went to Seattle last weekend and it was beautiful and sunny the entire time. The locals assure me that it will get rainy, but I’m starting to think they’re just trying to scare me, and that people in southern Oregon have it really, really good when it comes to weather. (That’s what I’m hoping anyway. I’m not much of a rain person. I’m very jealous of my friends back in Michigan who are already seeing snow.)

So what am I doing on this non-rainy day? Not a whole lot. That seems to be the theme here lately. I had Friday off for Veteran’s day, which turns out to be a huge holiday here. (Possibly due to the VA hospital nearby and the extreme rural conservatism and patriotism of the people who live around here.) I met some friends for breakfast at a bagel shop Friday morning and was overwhelmed by the crowds that had gathered downtown for the parade. Normally, downtown Roseburg is quaint, but eerily quiet. Even on weekend nights when people are out at the bar. Veteran’s Day is a whole ‘nuther matter, though. I’ve never seen so many people in town, and it was fun running into fellow teachers and students from school and actually recognizing non-AmeriCorps people. The parade itself was kind of boring, with the exception of a float of anti-Agent Orange veterans releasing fifty orange balloons into the air (I didn’t think people still did that—isn’t it bad for the environment, etc??) After the balloons rose up into the air, a mile long parade of motorcycles tooted their horns, revved their engines, and filled the street with exhaust. AMERICA! I may have teared up a little. I get very emotional at patriotic events. I wish I was more patriotic, myself, but it’s hard to love America unconditionally when you’ve spent so much time in other places.

Besides a day trip to Eugene, this weekend hasn’t been that exciting. Yesterday I was so bored I got out my flute and played every scale I remember from high school, sang all of my songs from voice lessons years ago, made cookies, played racquetball, and watched a movie. Sounds jam-packed, but it was all done in an attempt to quell my boredom. And I don’t think I succeeded. Luckily I can go to fun places like Eugene and Portland and Seattle to find excitement. Speaking of Seattle, I drove up there last weekend to visit my cousin Gwenna for her birthday. I love Seattle. It’s so much cooler than Portland, and not as obnoxiously hipster. I’m excited to go back there for Thanksgiving.

So now I’m sitting in a coffee shop pretending I’m still in college and have to get some work done. I almost wish I had a huge paper to write, to complete the nostalgic moment. Almost. But I’m not that bored. Yet.

Recycling Bends: An analysis of the Oregon accent (and beer)

I haven’t written much lately. But don’t feel left out; there hasn’t been much to talk about. Until now. Today in school I saw a student poster advertising recycling. Instead of writing “recycling bins,” the student wrote “recycling bends.” Now, for a Michigander, “bend” sounds absolutely nothing like “bin.” Unless you have some sort of bad head-cold. But I was pretty sure the student was perfectly healthy. So I stared at the paper for a few seconds before figuring out the root of the spelling error. You see, in Oregon, some people, like people in Michigan, claim that they do not have an accent. But as I have observed in my travels, everyone has an accent. (And when I say “accent,” I say it with the most nasally “a” I can muster.)

So anyway, the Oregon accent: I noticed pretty quickly after getting here that not everyone says his or her “en” the proper way. For many people (in Southern Oregon at least), “end” is “ind” and “enter” is “inter.” Whenever I hear my Oregon-born housemate throw out a word with a heavy Oregon “en” accent, I point and shout and try to convince everyone that I hear it. So far, I’ve been only slightly successful in convincing Oregonians and foreigners alike that this subtle accent exists. Until today. I now have written proof that in the mind of an Oregon-raised high schooler, “bends” sounds like “bins.”

So why does this matter? Well, really, it doesn’t. Except I love languages, including accents and dialects in my own language. And it’s one of the things I love most about traveling and exploring new places.

I’ve been marveling at the Oregon accent since Roseburg, Day One, when I first grabbed lunch with my roommate at a localish pub called McMenamins. Our first ever phone conversation went something like this:

Her: Hey, do you want to grab lunch and talk about housing options?
Me: Yeah, that sounds good. Where should we eat? I just got to Roseburg, I’m terrified of where I’ve decided to live for the next 11 months, and I don’t know of any good restaurants.
Her: Well, I went to a good place yesterday, called McMINamins or something.
Me: Oh, that’s funny; I’m standing across from a restaurant called McMENamins right now. Do you think that’s the same place?
Her: Yeah, McMINamins. That’s the place.
Me: Right, you mean McMENamins. I think that’s how it’s pronounced.
Her: Yeah, okay, I’ll see you there soon.
Me: (Thinking in my head) Am I going crazy? Does no one know how to read here? It’s very clearly written McMENamins.

The funny thing is, my roommate is from Minnesota. I guess someone had already told her the right way to pronounce the restaurant’s name.

*Another note about McMen(in)amins. I said it was localish, because it is an Oregon chain that stays in Oregon. Oregonians love their local stuff, especially their micro-brews. I experienced this love last weekend when I volunteered at the Umpqua Brewfest, a fundraiser for the local watershed council (Beer: “It’s all about the water.”) For three and a half hours I poured yummy smelling beer to people and talked to a good range of people from the area. It was a blast, although after spending nine hours there (most of it spent sampling beer after my volunteer shift), I grew pretty discouraged about finding many more young friends from here, outside my AmeriCorps social circle. And I really, really wish I liked beer. As I mentioned before, I like the smell of it coming out of the tap when I pour it, and the first sip of a nice micro-brew is good, but taking every sip after the first is like pulling teeth. I’ll have to just appreciate the local brews from the sidelines, I guess, and stick to my cider.

Activities

Even though I have umpteen more hours of free time now that I’m not in college, I’ve been too busy to write. So what have I been doing with my free time in this grand place? I’ve been exploring the great Oregon wilderness in an attempt to escape the all-American small town boredom that is Roseburg.

Activity # 1: The Swimming Hole (aka Swiftwater)
Back when the weather was hot and dry every day (early September) my roommates and I went adventuring up towards the mountains. We found a great swimming hole on the North Umpqua River, and to my delight, the turquoise water was frigid and oh-so-refreshing. We spent a couple Saturdays jumping off rocks and cliffs into the river below, and watching crazier people jump off a 50-foot bridge.

Activity #2: Waterfalls
There are an insane amount of waterfalls here. I’ve hiked to three or four already, and each one has been more breathtaking than the last. We swam in a few, and I found some thimbleberries growing near some. No one believes me when I mention that thimbleberries exist. Maybe they have another name here? I can’t wait to see what the waterfalls look like in winter when the rivers rush with snow runoff and rain.

Activity #3: Hot Springs
I finally made it to some hot springs!!!!! The only springs I’ve experienced up until this point have been the cold puddles by the Petoskey State Park. But the springs in Oregon were something different entirely. They’re HOT. There’s one pool at the top, and it trickles down into four or five more pools all the way down a hill. Each pool is a little bit cooler as you get farther down and closer to the river. This spot was very Oregon Hippie, and my modest Midwest self had to pretend not to be shocked that some people don’t think a bathing suit is a necessary accessory when soaking in hot springs. Like the rivers, I can’t wait to go back in the winter (when there will be snow up there in the mountains.)

Activity #4: Portlandia
(I had to go to Portland for AmeriCorps training last week, and some of us spent a couple extra days there exploring.)

Okay, so Portland isn’t exactly the Great Outdoors, but at times I felt like I was observing a wild species as I strolled down its rainy streets. I am referring to the abundance of a certain breed of human, called “Hipster.” I vaguely remember discussing the Hipster’s identifying characteristics with family members this summer, and I wish I could show them Portland. I’m not sure there are any non-Hipsters in Portland. I couldn’t walk down the street without feeling bad that my clothes matched and my pants were not pegged, cutoff, or otherwise altered. There were also a lot of hairy men there. Overall, an interesting city, but probably not a place I’d choose to live. I guess I’m too mainstream.

Activity #5: The Zoo
Despite the lack of young people here, I’ve managed to go out a bit and check out the nightlife. We live down the street from a place that has free ping-pong and a jukebox that plays way too much heavy metal and country. (But I think I might get pretty good at ping pong if I keep frequenting that establishment). We also took a couple trips to the Zoo, Roseburg’s finest nightclub (unless you count the strip club—amateur night, anyone??) where we danced the night away and pretended that the people dancing around us were wholesome, upstanding citizens. (Maybe some of them are, but the Zoo doesn’t seem to attract Roseburg’s more cultured inhabitants.) Contrary to what you might think, this establishment does not house animals.

Of course, this isn't all I do. But I'm too tired to write more. The Zoo sapped all my energy. And my neck hurts. I think I need to tame my dance moves.

Blind Spots and Benches

Since I’ve been here almost a month and I've done a lot of exciting things, I should probably talk about them, but I don’t feel like it. There are more important things to discuss, such as zoning rules. And benches.

I hate driving in this town because every time I head out for the grocery store in my trusty wagon, I narrowly miss death by way of being rammed by a car. For some reason, when Roseburg developed, somewhere in the zoning rules, they left out the part about leaving space between a building and the road. My mom likes to complain about the lack of a “greenspace" or "greenbelt” rule in Paradise, which resulted in people only having lawn between their store and the highway, instead of a bunch of trees between their store and the highway. Well, in Roseburg, there isn’t even the option of a lawn in some cases. Nope. Just a cement building (my nemesis is a stone-working shop), a four-foot sidewalk, and a four-lane road.

This lack of space between building and road (which occurs not just on my corner, but all over town) creates some real frustrations for me. As mentioned before, when pulling onto the road by my house, I look left and right a couple times, then look right five more times, because there is always a cement wall in my line of vision. I risk certain death if I pull forward to the point where I can actually see the cars coming, so I get a little thrill every time I successfully turn left and don’t die. *Disclaimer—I am very careful driving here because I recognize the added danger. I’m only exaggerating for comic relief.

The blind spots aren’t just inconvenient/hazardous for drivers, however. Every time I walk down a particular street I feel like I’m going to get creamed by a car or knocked down by a rear-view mirror. Or kidnapped and swung into the back of a pickup because I have nowhere to run, pinned between wall and road. Biking is also difficult, because I’m pretty sure the handlebars on my vintage bike are wider than the sidewalk in some places.

Ahhh, speaking of biking…While I hate driving in Roseburg, I do love biking in it (despite the narrow sidewalk issue).

There is as sa-weet bike trail here. Or maybe it's not that cool, I just like it because it exists. But the bike trail is pretty nice. It starts just across the road from where I live, and since discovering it last weekend, I’ve spent some wonderful evenings cruising through the riverside park on my bicycle. The trail winds along the Umpqua River, which runs right through the center of town. Once I cross under a couple creepy railroad bridges and get on the main bike path, I escape into a land of green trees, happy people (except for the homeless ones), and beautiful sunsets. When I first got to Roseburg and went running in town, I never saw anyone else running or biking. Then I found the bike path and realized that people do exercise here, they just do it in the park. (Which makes sense, I guess.)

So anywho, this bike path is amazing and beautiful, but the best part about it is the benches. A lot of my reflections on this town end up being comparisons between Roseburg and Aix. Roseburg has a ton of benches along the bike path and by the river, and they make great picnicking and reflecting spots. Aix, on the other hand, had a total of four benches in the downtown, and only half of them were ever in the sun at the same time. Les Francais prefer to sit on little chairs in little cafes and sip little coffees, but Roseburgers seem to recognize the value of a good bench in a beautiful place. (I mentioned this bench observation to a friend and he asked if I would write about it in my blog..OF COURSE!)

As usual, I’m generalizing A LOT and making assumptions and other false-ish statements, but this is what I think about when I’m wandering around this town. And I like to write what I’m thinking.

The more I see of Roseburg, the more I like it. Once I figured out how to ignore the sprawl and blind spots, I began to see that it’s really a beautiful town nestled in big hills, with a great river and a decent downtown. It’s a very typical “Amerrican” town, but I’ll get to that later..