<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:13:43.235-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stiles runs, you better catch up!</title><subtitle type='html'>All about Stiles...you know, if you're into that sort of thing...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>75</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-2402685073305245441</id><published>2010-11-18T16:56:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T19:34:39.402-06:00</updated><title type='text'>forlorn follies</title><content type='html'>How easy it would be to succumb to seclusion.&lt;br /&gt;How simple to dwell in darkness.&lt;br /&gt;What luck it would be to lay forever in loneliness.&lt;br /&gt;Solitude infinity.&lt;br /&gt;Lost in abyss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where do you go when alienation overwhelms?&lt;br /&gt;Which road do you choose when isolation is imminent?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rose to the occasion.&lt;br /&gt;To be trampled on thorns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Extended my olive branch.&lt;br /&gt;To be pitted by disinterest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was weak.&lt;br /&gt;At least I thought I was.&lt;br /&gt;I tried so hard to open the door.&lt;br /&gt;Open the door to my Soul.&lt;br /&gt;To let you in.&lt;br /&gt;You.&lt;br /&gt;It is not access I grant freely.&lt;br /&gt;You.&lt;br /&gt;I gave you free reign.&lt;br /&gt;But you refused.&lt;br /&gt;You resigned.&lt;br /&gt;You judged.&lt;br /&gt;You never gave me a chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She misses you.&lt;br /&gt;But I can't say.&lt;br /&gt;How I miss you.&lt;br /&gt;Every. Single. Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wore my heart on my sleeve.&lt;br /&gt;Took a chance.&lt;br /&gt;Took a risk.&lt;br /&gt;But that isn't enough.&lt;br /&gt;It's never enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am never enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am not a pretty girl.&lt;br /&gt;That is not what I do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When will it end?&lt;br /&gt;Not too soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-2402685073305245441?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/2402685073305245441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=2402685073305245441' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/2402685073305245441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/2402685073305245441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2010/11/forlorn-follies.html' title='forlorn follies'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-365370959235304088</id><published>2010-11-13T07:47:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2010-11-13T08:16:20.091-06:00</updated><title type='text'>5 Reasons Why...</title><content type='html'>...I love the first snowfall:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Snowflakes on my eyelashes during a wintry run.&lt;br /&gt;2. Sipping homemade hot cocoa with Bailey's after #1.&lt;br /&gt;3. Baking vegan cookies making my apartment smell of yummy deliciousness.&lt;br /&gt;4. Snuggling next to my wood-burning fireplace, drinking #2 and eating #3.&lt;br /&gt;5. Watching scary movies involving snowstorms next to #4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-365370959235304088?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/365370959235304088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=365370959235304088' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/365370959235304088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/365370959235304088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2010/11/5-reasons-why.html' title='5 Reasons Why...'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-4893097423340695796</id><published>2010-10-16T15:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T15:48:42.774-05:00</updated><title type='text'>musings on the detached hero or Dostoevsky's Grand Inquisitor</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt; 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  &lt;w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="32" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Intense Reference"&gt;   &lt;w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="33" semihidden="false" unhidewhenused="false" qformat="true" name="Book Title"&gt;   &lt;w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="37" name="Bibliography"&gt;   &lt;w:lsdexception locked="false" priority="39" qformat="true" name="TOC Heading"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-priority:99;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin-top:0in;  mso-para-margin-right:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;  mso-para-margin-left:0in;  line-height:115%;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:11.0pt;  font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";  mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;  mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;  mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;  mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Underneath the detached hero, the intellectual machine, the diamond armor, lays a frailty succumbing to never-lasting love, loneliness, and despair. Emotions betray our hero, but the only evidence is hidden as scars upon his withering soul. Slipping into compassion and love is indeed an injury from which our fallen hero cannot recover. The kiss of death. He falls. He fails. He loses. Again.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Press on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-4893097423340695796?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/4893097423340695796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=4893097423340695796' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/4893097423340695796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/4893097423340695796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2010/10/musings-on-detached-hero-or-dostoevskys.html' title='musings on the detached hero or Dostoevsky&apos;s Grand Inquisitor'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8240330195591233470</id><published>2010-10-16T07:33:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-16T08:18:12.453-05:00</updated><title type='text'>/end hiatus</title><content type='html'>Now it's India's turn to be on hiatus. For those of you just joining me, feel free to check out &lt;a href="http://www.kristiestiles.com/"&gt;Pathological Wanderlust&lt;/a&gt; for updates from my volunteer trip to India. For those of you reading on facebook, this blog is imported from &lt;a href="http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://stilesruns.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, I am now 2.5 months out from ACL reconstruction. Yes, yes, I know, ANOTHER surgery. If there were a way to go pro as a complicated surgical case, I would be MVP for sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who don't know, I named my new knee Sheldon Cooper. He's a theoretical physicist. My knee is smart. My knee has also acquired the super-power of meteorology. It can predict the weather with up to 73% accuracy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As many times as I've had to re-learn to walk again I am sorry to say it does not get easier. It still hurts. A lot. It is just as mentally draining as it is physical; just as frustrating as it is slow. In all honesty, it seems there have been more bad days than good. Perhaps only because I am still in the thick of it but some days I want to throw my hands up for the agonizingly slow pace of it all. Some days it seems I am progressing backward, even though that is not the truth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As difficult as it is, I am constantly reminded of and thankful for all the small accomplishments along the way. For example, last week I was finally given the "ok" to start running. As much as I wanted to bust out a 5K, I stuck to my program and walked 5 min/ran 1 min x 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me just say that running one minute hasn't felt so satisfying since the last time I re-learned to run!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that milestone out of the way it is now time to focus on the future. I am not allowed to do karate just yet so I have some time to focus on the running. I think a reasonable goal will be to do one of the New Year's 5K runs. I won't be hitting any PRs but it will be motivating to have something to look forward to. If anyone has any good race suggestions in the Minneapolis area, let me know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8240330195591233470?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8240330195591233470/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8240330195591233470' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8240330195591233470'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8240330195591233470'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2010/10/end-hiatus.html' title='/end hiatus'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5234770106316001460</id><published>2010-05-17T16:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T16:07:47.008-05:00</updated><title type='text'>INDIA</title><content type='html'>This blog will be on hiatus as I embark on a fascinating journey to India.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Updates from India and beyond on my NEW blog: &lt;a href="http://www.kristiestiles.com"&gt;Pathological Wanderlust&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5234770106316001460?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5234770106316001460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5234770106316001460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5234770106316001460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5234770106316001460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2010/05/india.html' title='INDIA'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-9218982948663894737</id><published>2010-03-21T21:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-21T21:57:53.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 75</title><content type='html'>Today I researched travel packs and hiking sandals. Since I will be going in the heart of monsoon season, I will need some gear that will be able to stand up to the elements.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got to get back to studying the renal system, but tomorrow I will post information about some of the fascinating diseases I will encounter on my journey!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Donations:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;$3495 to go!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hindi  Phrase of the Day:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;naa&lt;/span&gt;-ree a-di-&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kaar &lt;/span&gt;ke&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; baa&lt;/span&gt;-re meng log kyaa &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;soch&lt;/span&gt;-te hayng?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;How do people feel about feminism?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-9218982948663894737?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/9218982948663894737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=9218982948663894737' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/9218982948663894737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/9218982948663894737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-75.html' title='Day 75'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-3940425012537959732</id><published>2010-03-20T01:19:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-20T01:49:14.012-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Day 76</title><content type='html'>76 Days to go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear family and friends,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As many of you know, I will be traveling to India this June as a volunteer with &lt;a href="http://www.cfhi.org/"&gt;Child Family Health International&lt;/a&gt; to participate in a service learning opportunity to work with patients with communicable diseases. As a student nurse, this will provide a unique opportunity to work with diseases not usually seen here in the US and allow me to enhance and hone my clinical skills. As a human, this opportunity will allow me to learn from a culture half a world away and give back to the global health community.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a volunteer, I will be responsible for all expenses related to the journey and am asking for your assistance. The program fee of $2195 includes modest room and board with a host family in Mumbai, payment to local medical directors under whom I will be working, and a small organizational fee to maintain the non-profit &lt;a href="http://www.cfhi.org/"&gt;Child Family Heath International&lt;/a&gt; organization. I am also responsible for the $1300 airline ticket and any other travel expenses as needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand the economy is tough right now but any amount, no matter how small, will be greatly appreciated. I have set up a PayPal button on the upper right corner of my blog (for those of you reading on facebook, my blog is &lt;a href="http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;). It requires a PayPal account (just an e-mail is required) but will accept credit/debit card payments as well. If you would prefer other arrangements, please send me a message and I'd be happy to work something out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will be posting daily statistics and tidbits of information related to the trip as the countdown continues and will maintain this blog in addition to a written journal during my 5 week stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Donations:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;$3495 to go!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Hindi Phrase of the Day:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;kyaa &lt;em&gt;mas&lt;/em&gt;-ha-ree mi-&lt;em&gt;le&lt;/em&gt;-gaa/mi-&lt;em&gt;le&lt;/em&gt;-gee? (m/f)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Could I have a mosquito net please?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-3940425012537959732?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/3940425012537959732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=3940425012537959732' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3940425012537959732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3940425012537959732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2010/03/day-76.html' title='Day 76'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-3647470316288807704</id><published>2009-12-29T02:48:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2009-12-29T02:55:54.177-06:00</updated><title type='text'>crunch crunch, slide slide</title><content type='html'>The other morning I ventured out amongst the snowdrifts and was greeted by a glorious pink sunrise and serenaded by the crunch crunch of my shoes as they made their way down the icy path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's something serene about winter running I don't experience other times of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything seems so still, so calm, so quiet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am usually the only one out and about and feel strength in the solitude. There are more obstacles to navigate, making a usual route feel rather unusual. The air is biting but fresh. What would seem an intolerable chill turns into a welcome breeze. The world is beautiful and in these moments it seems to belong to me alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to hear your winter running thoughts...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-3647470316288807704?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/3647470316288807704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=3647470316288807704' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3647470316288807704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3647470316288807704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/12/crunch-crunch-slide-slide.html' title='crunch crunch, slide slide'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8888788483431801098</id><published>2009-09-12T04:07:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T05:06:57.562-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You know you're old when...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Maurice Chevalier&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br&gt;Today was one of the first days I've actually felt my age.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you are wondering, I am 29...for the third time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I happen to feel as if I am in the worst athletic shape of my entire adult life. My run this afternoon only accentuated that feeling. I've been in various degrees of in-shapedness but never have I been such a well-rounded idler. The realization hit me about 30 seconds in to &lt;a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&amp;amp;rls=com.microsoft:*&amp;amp;resnum=0&amp;amp;safe=on&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;ie=UTF-8&amp;amp;q=staring+lake&amp;amp;near=Minneapolis,+MN&amp;amp;fb=1&amp;amp;split=1&amp;amp;gl=us&amp;amp;view=text&amp;amp;latlng=7138543620485516890"&gt;Staring Lake&lt;/a&gt; (one of my favorite runs). It hit like a ton of bricks...in my hamstrings, "damn, I'm old."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was serious; I could barely do my usual swagger run when impressive-calf-muscles passed by. Believe me, there were plenty and I tried my best. Unfortunately, instead of looking awesome, I probably looked more like &lt;a href="http://www.damnshow.com/2007/01/24/how-to-dance-like-a-white-guy/"&gt;one of these guys&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I won't even begin to tell you about the elephant on my chest.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The remedy for sans swagger and pachyderms? A little dedication and consistency should take me from American Idle to Weekend Warrior in no time! I know, dream big.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's hope I can out-run my age tomorrow.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8888788483431801098?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8888788483431801098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8888788483431801098' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8888788483431801098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8888788483431801098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/09/you-know-youre-old-when.html' title='You know you&apos;re old when...'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-73829840541503066</id><published>2009-09-09T04:49:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-10T02:35:31.162-05:00</updated><title type='text'>txting sux</title><content type='html'>When I first discovered the wonders of text messaging I thought I had hit the jackpot. As I am not one who particularly enjoys talking on the phone I thought for sure this new phenomenon would forever protect me from awkward pauses, mouth breathers, and that smacking noise made by people who eat while talking on the phone. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ew&lt;/span&gt;. What I have come to discover is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; has its own set of problems that have become increasingly annoying and make me long for the days when people were just a phone call or short drive away. Examples? Yes, please:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. There is absolutely no context.&lt;/strong&gt; Communication is 60% nonverbal and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; pretty much negates the remaining 40%. How do I know you laughed at my witty remark? I have given "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;" the ole' college try but every time I write it it seems...unnatural. Like I'm trying to be 12 years old or something. Rarely is this abbreviation used correctly anyway and even when it is, it elicits more of an eye roll out of me than an...&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt;. How do you know if I am happy or sad or excited or crabby? It's real easy to fake all of the above and avoid the issue altogether with a "fine, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;nd&lt;/span&gt; u?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt;, I have learned I actually enjoy the communication process! I &lt;em&gt;like&lt;/em&gt; awkward silences! I get a kick out of a good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;stare down&lt;/span&gt; and I absolutely love making other people smile. As for my alleged witty remarks, well I'd take a vacant stare from someone over an &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;lol&lt;/span&gt; any day. I relish in observing body language and facial expressions. As strange as it sounds, I'd rather gather you up into my arms as I watch your heart break all over your face than read about the latest "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;wtf&lt;/span&gt;" moment from &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;joe&lt;/span&gt; d-bag. Communication without context is like a body without soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. Spellcheck much?&lt;/strong&gt; I admit, I am one of those &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;annoying&lt;/span&gt; people who thinks that spelling and basic grammar are important, not to mention good indicators of those who passed the first grade. Now I'm not saying I have the finest grammar or can win a spelling bee but I certainly know how to capitalize sentences, use basic punctuation, and spell words like "you" and "are" and I can certainly differentiate between "to" and "too." I understand that sometimes you are in a hurry and it's easier to type "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;rng&lt;/span&gt; l8 u2 &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;stl&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;thr&lt;/span&gt;?" than spelling it out but should you really be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;texting&lt;/span&gt; in the middle of traffic? I'd prefer just about anything over a car wreck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. Feigning interest, pseudo-intimacy, and vague questions/responses. &lt;/strong&gt;I swear I'm going to punch someone if I get one more "what &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;ru&lt;/span&gt; up2?" when what you really mean is, "I'm too busy (or don't care) to take the time to find out how you really are feeling or what really happened in your day so why don't you dumb it down into a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;sound byte&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;preferably&lt;/span&gt; misspelled?" If I ask someone how they are doing or how their day was I actually mean it. If you are my friend I want to know all the juicy details and I'll never be too busy to lend an ear for a daily round-up. That's the stuff you can't get from acquaintances and &lt;a href="http://www.hookingupsmart.com/2009/01/03/hookinguprealities/how-to-figure-out-if-he-has-relationship-potential/"&gt;fake boyfriends&lt;/a&gt;. That's the good stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;4. Nothing says "I'd rather be anywhere but here" like the text message during dinner.&lt;/strong&gt; You know the type: he or she can't go one hour without checking their phone in fear they might miss something from someone more interesting than you. It makes me feel so important when we're right in the middle of a conversation or a delicious pause and I hear the &lt;em&gt;buzz buzz&lt;/em&gt; of the incoming text and watch in horror as you actually answer it. Seriously?! I've been tempted so many times to get up and leave right then and there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there you have it. I know that texting is an inevitablilty in our tech-obsessed culture and there are still instances when a text message is not only convenient, but sufficient and effective as well, but from now on I'm going to leave the meaningful dialogue and relationship-building goodies to the old fashioned phone call or face to face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-73829840541503066?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/73829840541503066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=73829840541503066' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/73829840541503066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/73829840541503066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/09/txting-sux.html' title='txting sux'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-3326336493828032600</id><published>2009-09-05T19:55:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T20:19:50.615-05:00</updated><title type='text'>face your fears</title><content type='html'>As a kid I was deathly afraid of water. It was a struggle just to get me near a bathtub and forget about a swimming pool or lake. I deduce the reason was because it was necessary to douse me in what I recall were ice-cold baths (actually they were tepid) in order to reduce the high fevers from painful kidney infections. The axe-in-your-side kind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some crazy reason my parents decided it was a good idea to put me in swimming lessons. I was around 10 or 11 and my poor swimming teacher couldn't even get me to put my face in the water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then something happened. I don't remember the exact details but I remember waking up one day and deciding that was the day I was going to jump in. Literally. Two years later I was on the high school varsity swim team and the local year-round swim club. Today I can't imagine my life without the water. The beach by the Pacific Ocean is my favorite place in the world and where I feel most at peace with the Universe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes in life we are faced with various manifestations of my pool of water. The most frightening thing is, the only way to get to our Peace is to jump in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-3326336493828032600?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/3326336493828032600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=3326336493828032600' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3326336493828032600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3326336493828032600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/09/face-your-fears.html' title='face your fears'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1615796283449943907</id><published>2009-08-18T23:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T23:17:17.870-05:00</updated><title type='text'>power to the people</title><content type='html'>Recently we had quite a barrage of storms pass through, one which briefly knocked out the power in my apartment. As I fumbled in the darkness I got to thinking about all the things one can do when the power goes out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Play hide and go seek with flashlights. For super-seekers, ditch the flashlights and hone your night-vision.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Build a fire and make s'mores. Make mine with white chocolate and cinnamon grahams please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Tell ghost stories. Nothing scares my socks off like a scary story. Use the flashlight under your chin for extra effects!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Take a hike! Hit the trails for a little midnight hike by moonlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Stargaze. Usually a difficult task so close to the cities but with the power out, the stars get a chance to shine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1615796283449943907?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1615796283449943907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1615796283449943907' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1615796283449943907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1615796283449943907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/08/power-to-people.html' title='power to the people'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-793126489125744367</id><published>2009-03-11T02:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T02:17:42.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'>...and I will try to fix you</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lights will guide you home&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And ignite your bones&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I will try to fix you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta love a little &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/coldplaytv"&gt;Coldplay&lt;/a&gt; once in awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever tried to take something apart in order to put it back together again? I wonder if that's how our minds work. Something happens in our life that takes us apart, scattering pieces here and there. Once you think you've got everything put back together again you notice a few rogue pieces that didn't make it. What's puzzling is that our mind continues to function sans rogues. How difficult it is to discard erroneous pieces! Our first instinct is to break apart and make it work no matter what. We forget that our minds are designed to change, to adapt and thrive despite the addition or subtraction of various pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so we choose to force unnecessary breakage and get hung up in the details or we adapt and function without our previous hang-ups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Any thoughts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-793126489125744367?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/793126489125744367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=793126489125744367' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/793126489125744367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/793126489125744367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/03/and-i-will-try-to-fix-you.html' title='...and I will try to fix you'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5869603595265354189</id><published>2009-02-13T11:38:00.006-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T12:33:35.968-06:00</updated><title type='text'>V-Day doesn't have to be a downer...</title><content type='html'>So hey, in case you haven't noticed, Valentine's Day is tomorrow. For those of you in Love this is probably a day you are looking forward to; for those of you who are single or "on a break" this day can be daunting, depressing, and downright dismal. Good thing I have compiled a list of things to do instead of shooting yourself in the face on this, the finest of "Hallmark Holidays:"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Volunteer! Nothing will get you feeling better than making a difference in the lives of others. Here are some ideas:&lt;br /&gt;-Feeling creative? Write a poem about what peace means to you and submit it &lt;a href="http://valentinepeaceproject.org/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. Flowers will be wrapped in poems and distributed in cities throughout the land on V-Day.&lt;br /&gt;-Check out &lt;a href="http://www.volunteermatch.org/"&gt;Volunteer Match&lt;/a&gt; or google search "volunteer on Valentine's Day" for other opportunities in your area.&lt;br /&gt;-Offer to babysit or spend time with your friend's bundle of joy, a niece or nephew, or your neighbor's "little angel." Nothing will put a smile on your face like the wisdom and antics of a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Snuggle a furry friend! For those of you with pets this will be easy. For others, check out your local &lt;a href="http://www.animalhumanesociety.org/"&gt;Animal Humane Society&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://petsacrossamerica.org/"&gt;pet shelter&lt;/a&gt; (watch the intro it is so cute!) and take a field trip to snuggle the adorable little kitties, bunnies, and puppies! Awww!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Make a list of all the people in your life that you Love or have made a positive difference and why. Doesn't have to be elaborate or eloquent. Then call them and tell them about it (or text, e-mail, facebook, blog, etc.). Even if they aren't single on V-Day, I bet they will appreciate hearing from you and you will feel better knowing you are surrounded by Love. *One caveat: DO NOT call your ex-bf/gf/lover if the relationship is over. Focus on friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4) Clean out your closet and donate un-used items to &lt;a href="http://www.arcsvaluevillage.org/"&gt;ARC&lt;/a&gt; (in Richfield, MN) or your local &lt;a href="http://locator.goodwill.org/"&gt;Goodwill&lt;/a&gt;. You will have contributed to the well-being of others and you will have a clean closet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5) Listen to up-beat "Happy" music. Dance around your house. Sing along. Refrain from turning on the radio, as most stations are likely to be playing a marathon of sappy Love songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6) Offer to cook dinner for another single friend or friends. Go easy on the wine, but heavy on the Love. This doesn't have to be elaborate; your friends will appreciate the food and you will appreciate the company. For those of you who don't cook there's always take-out or delivery!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7) GET OUT OF YOUR HOUSE! There is nothing worse than sitting at home alone on V-Day, listening to sappy Love songs, and wondering if you will be alone forever. Go for a &lt;a href="http://www.dnr.state.mn.us/state_parks/index.html"&gt;hike&lt;/a&gt;, attend a local &lt;a href="http://www.citypages.com/events/search/?date=2009-02-14"&gt;play/concert/event&lt;/a&gt;, or volunteer (see #1).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8) For those of you who are single, there is no better day to assure the availability of others than to hit the town on V-Day. Avoid anyone with doe-eyes and you should be money. If you are just looking to hook-up please &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTLj_3R0-2g"&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;don't forget Nirodh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (this video is HILARIOUS, btw). I do not suggest hooking up if you are "on a break," remember that one &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsvsRZhNVp4"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Friend's&lt;/span&gt; episode&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9) Be happy you are not one of the unfortunate recipients of chocolate today. Blasphemy? No way! Did you know the production of chocolate relies on three fungi? Ewww! &lt;a href="http://botit.botany.wisc.edu/toms_fungi/feb2006.html"&gt;Check it out!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10) Finally, take my poll! For those of you reading from facebook, visit &lt;a href="http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/"&gt;my blog&lt;/a&gt; and take the poll. Let me know what YOU are doing on V-Day so I can live vicariously :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's it kids. Remember, this doesn't have to be the day you shoot yourself in the face. There are plenty of other ways to pass the time that are a tad more productive and conducive to living. If I missed anything please post a comment to share!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5869603595265354189?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5869603595265354189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5869603595265354189' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5869603595265354189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5869603595265354189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/02/v-day-doesnt-have-to-be-downer.html' title='V-Day doesn&apos;t have to be a downer...'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1588737624931010849</id><published>2009-02-12T23:07:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T23:17:01.017-06:00</updated><title type='text'>dear downstairs neightbors...</title><content type='html'>Dear downstairs neighbors,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It smells like Phish fans and Snoop Dogg having a party at Cheech &amp;amp; Chong's.&lt;br /&gt;From upstairs and down the hall.&lt;br /&gt;Clove cigarettes do not cancel out the smell of weed.&lt;br /&gt;Nor does spraying nauseating amounts of Febreze outside your door.&lt;br /&gt;Just Say No.&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1588737624931010849?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1588737624931010849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1588737624931010849' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1588737624931010849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1588737624931010849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/02/dear-downstairs-neightbors.html' title='dear downstairs neightbors...'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-6763256345758931671</id><published>2009-02-12T05:20:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T05:36:20.399-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The wild, weird, &amp; wacky world of microbes!</title><content type='html'>So I am taking microbiology this semester and am learning about the wild, weird, and wacky world of microbes. Who knew that bacteria was so...fascinating! Did you know we all have eye mites? How cool is it that we &lt;strong&gt;all&lt;/strong&gt; have &lt;em&gt;E. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;coli&lt;/span&gt;? Yes, everyone has it, just not the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;serotype&lt;/span&gt; O157:H7 that causes all sorts of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;nasties&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are now starting to look at some of the smaller living things (but not as small as microbes) and I am particularly fascinated by worms! The latest fruits of independent, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Internet&lt;/span&gt; time-wasting...AKA "research" include this: &lt;a href="http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/22529"&gt;http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/22529&lt;/a&gt; little ditty about some of the strangest worms. While hardly cute, fuzzy, or pretty to look at under a microscope (like &lt;em&gt;Staphylococcus &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;aureus&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Staphylococcus_aureus"&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Staphylococcus_aureus&lt;/a&gt;) I'd say they are a pretty interesting group of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;beasties&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-6763256345758931671?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/6763256345758931671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=6763256345758931671' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6763256345758931671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6763256345758931671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/02/wild-weird-wacky-world-of-microbes.html' title='The wild, weird, &amp; wacky world of microbes!'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5570724835972005513</id><published>2009-02-03T01:39:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T02:36:58.822-06:00</updated><title type='text'>25 Things You Never Wanted to Know About Stiles</title><content type='html'>...but here they are anyway:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I will do anything for my family and friends, even at my own expense (but please see #9 before you ask).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I am a vegetarian. I don't eat anything with a mommy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Despite having extensive documentation of my intelligence, I am incredibly forgetful. Please don't be offended if I forget something about you; I forget things about myself all the time. What was this list about again?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I always thought I'd be married with a house and kids by now and am rather disappointed about being 0 for 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I think the sound of babies crying is one of the sweetest sounds ever. Ask me why sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I know all about channel 1. You can ask me about this sometime as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I don't sleep. Sometimes by choice but mostly because I don't have time. The world won't wait and I can sleep all I want when I'm dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I am terrible about keeping in touch with people. Really REALLY terrible. If we haven't spoken in awhile it's NOT because I don't think about you or because I don't want to, it's just because I get too busy or I simply forget (see #3). If we haven't spoken in awhile I would *love* to hear from you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I am certified to: save your life, pump you up, and wipe your butt. I will gladly help you with the first two but only under exigent circumstances will I ever wipe your ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I don't give myself credit for anything ever. Unless my therapist reminds me to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11. If I am still 0 for 3 on #4 in 3 years I'm canning the dream and dedicating my life to medicine (read as going to med school). It's the only way I can continue to justify my existence sans family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12. I am what a radical feminist looks like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. I love me a well-developed pair of gastrocnemius muscles on men or women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14. I am a nerd in biology lab,  a geek at school, and a dork all the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. My favorite bone is the sphenoid bone. It looks like a butterfly and has a Turkish saddle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16. I've had more surgeries than all your grandparents put together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17. My idea of a fun vacation includes going to Haiti to work with TB patients, Romania to work with kids in an orphanage, or Chile to do conservation work to save the wild chinchillas. I also wouldn't mind going to a deserted island and spending a week or 5 alone with the ocean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18. I try really hard not to be disillusioned with life, love, and happiness. Sometimes I fail but I always dust myself off and try again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19. I am a Ninja.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20. I'm typically not a touchy-feely person but my cousin in the veiny pencil (you know who you are Woo Honky Honk) gives THE BEST heart hugs. My sister Little Wheel is a close second. I look forward to them and wish more people would learn this fabulous skill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21. If one could legally inject caffeine I would do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22. I hope that anyone who actually reads this will post a comment, even if it's just to say "hi."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23. I love lists. I have a list for just about everything. Lists are very helpful when I forget things which I tend to do a lot (have I mentioned #3). Here are some examples: bucket list, traits I am looking for in a significant other, 25 things you never wanted to know, the red flag list, places to go, microbes to gram stain, adventures to have, things to do during my planned spontaneous time...you get the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24. Yes, I plan time to be spontaneous and have a list to consult with various spontaneous activities in which to engage (see #23).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;25. No matter how bad things get, I know there is a fire within me that NOTHING and NOBODY can EVER extinguish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sum of this list = I am awesome. Anyone who thinks otherwise can suck it :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5570724835972005513?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5570724835972005513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5570724835972005513' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5570724835972005513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5570724835972005513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2009/02/25-things-you-never-wanted-to-know.html' title='25 Things You Never Wanted to Know About Stiles'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8781734130108274411</id><published>2008-12-09T00:26:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T00:47:49.116-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Bruce's chin</title><content type='html'>I'm pretty sure Bruce Campbell has the greatest chin in Hollywood. It's quite possible he has the greatest chin outside Hollywood as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the weekend I concluded the swellest week ever with a few stellar events:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Seeing "My Name is Bruce" along with his live and in-person chin at the Lagoon.&lt;br /&gt;I first heard about the "Evil Dead" movies in high school. A friend of mine thought "Evil Dead 2" was the greatest film ever made and I had to do some investigation on my own. I, of course, came to a similar conclusion: although it may not be &lt;em&gt;the greatest&lt;/em&gt; it is definitely in my Top 10. Once in college I discovered that every Halloween, the Coffmann Union Theater (at the U of MN) played all three flicks back to back...to back! The audience was always quite vocal during these performances and every time I see the movies I retain the urge to shout "Bruce!" at random intervals...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Getting my apartment clean (except for one room) and finishing my laundry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3) Discovering my new most favorite bar, Chatterbox. if you haven't been you must drop everything, do not pass go, do not collect $200, and proceed there immediately. Besides brewing their own beer and having an extensive menu, they have an impressive collection of board games one may check out for free and, for a small charge, an equally impressive selection of Atari, Sega, and original Nintendo games. My socks were definitely rocked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a little over a week away from getting back to karate and running. Damn school is getting in the way of my six-pack! Let's all hope I survive finals week in one piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8781734130108274411?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8781734130108274411/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8781734130108274411' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8781734130108274411'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8781734130108274411'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/12/bruces-chin.html' title='Bruce&apos;s chin'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-937409090436540422</id><published>2008-12-04T06:13:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T07:59:24.292-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Swellest Week Ever</title><content type='html'>Apparently I'm in quite the write-y mood lately so here is an update on the swellest week ever. The best part? It's not even over yet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let me count the ways in which it has been swell:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Watching Blood Car again.&lt;br /&gt;2. Being reminded how sweet Dylan Hicks is.&lt;br /&gt;3. Watching LOTR while cleaning my apartment.&lt;br /&gt;4. The Vikings kicked some Bear behind on Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;5. Visited the fam and laughed until my sides hurt at all the funny things my 1 1/2 year old nephew was doing.&lt;br /&gt;6. Dancing with my nephew; the kid's got some moves!&lt;br /&gt;7. Getting another 100% on a math test.&lt;br /&gt;8. Singing karaoke at U Otter Stop Inn.&lt;br /&gt;9. Just going to a place &lt;em&gt;called&lt;/em&gt; U Otter Stop Inn!&lt;br /&gt;10. Writing a 9 page paper I am rather proud of (see previous entry if you dare).&lt;br /&gt;11. Seeing dead people. Literally.&lt;br /&gt;12. Starting my first IV on one of the nurses brave enough to let me poke her!&lt;br /&gt;13. Did I mention I started an IV? Eat your heart out new-grads, I got mine checked off and I haven't even started yet!&lt;br /&gt;14. Making lists for no reason.&lt;br /&gt;15. Baking Vegan Raspberry Almond Torte Cookies and making my apartment smell of yummy deliciousness.&lt;br /&gt;16. The lecture on the digestive system = saying poop in class and discussing, at length, the "vomit center" located in the 4th ventricle of the brain.&lt;br /&gt;17. Three words: reproductive system lecture. Damn I love anatomy!&lt;br /&gt;18. Discovering 2 new uses for Colgate toothpaste that have &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nothing&lt;/span&gt; to do with teeth!&lt;br /&gt;19. ???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's next? Well for sure seeing Stace Face and Bruce Campbell on Friday night but I can't wait to find out the rest!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-937409090436540422?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/937409090436540422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=937409090436540422' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/937409090436540422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/937409090436540422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/12/swellest-week-ever.html' title='The Swellest Week Ever'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-2216330946111348046</id><published>2008-12-03T21:15:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T21:23:33.404-06:00</updated><title type='text'>essay fun</title><content type='html'>Since I labored all weekend and all day on this essay for my cultural anthropology class I thought it prudent to share with y'all. It is 9 pages short. Yes kids, SHORT! I spend the entire day today cutting it down as it was about 12 pages in its original form. Guess how long it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;supposed&lt;/span&gt; to be? 3-4 pages and/or 750-1000 words. WHAT???!!! That's crazy! How can I possibly write a comprehensive essay in that amount of space? Geez. Let's just hope I don't lose too many points for having a lot to say on what I think is an interesting topic. So here it is, the short SHORT version:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AMERICAN ADAPTATIONS TO TRADITIONAL GENDER RELATIONS AMONG HMONG IMMIGRANTS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;INTRODUCTION&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; American culture is rich with stories of a variety of immigrant populations arriving in pursuit of the “American dream” of wealth and prosperity through hard work. Some immigrants, such as many Hmong, are here not by choice but rather, to escape ethnic persecution in their native land. Many Hmong have escaped their homeland of Laos as political refugees under Communist regime due to their involvement in aiding American forces during the Vietnam War. Since their arrival in America, the Hmong have been forced to undergo many cultural changes. One of the most significant changes is in traditional versus modern gender relations. Traditional Hmong culture views women as inferior to men and many immigrants have trouble adapting to American cultural standards of gender equality. In the book, “I Begin My Life All Over” by Lillian Faderman and Ghia Xiong, the experience of many Hmong immigrants are described in their own words. One section, entitled “Women and Men,” describes in detail some of the difficulties the Hmong have had merging traditional Hmong gender relations with modern American practices. Of note, the practices of kidnap marriage and polygamy have undergone drastic upheavals due to differences in American culture. Unfortunately, while many of the disparities between men and women have begun to erode, progress is not always apparent in the day-to-day domestic life of the American Hmong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TRADITIONAL HMONG GENDER RELATIONS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Stemming from ancient Hmong folklore, women are thought of as inferior and treated as such in Hmong society. According to legend, the first humans lived in an earthly paradise knowing not the meaning of hard work or death. They relied on the plentiful earth for sustenance and were joyful and content until one day; a woman drank water from a forbidden stream and ate the forbidden white strawberry. Because of this, the first humans were cast out of their paradise forever and forced to toil hard for food and die at the end of their lives. This original sin is inherited by all women and for this they are treated inferior.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Hmong society, reflecting the notion that men are superior, is patriarchal, patrilineal, and patrilocal. Women are not legally considered a person in Laos and therefore may not participate in government or negotiate contracts. Women have no say over when or whom to marry and usually, a “bride piece” is paid to her family in exchange for marriage. Men, his male relatives and the male relatives of his desired bride are the sole negotiators in marriage proceedings. So-called “catch-hand” or kidnap marriages are common where a young girl is kidnapped from her family by a man wishing to marry her. Because a young, virginal bride is desired, her fate is sealed after spending one night with his family and her family usually agrees to the union. Men are permitted to marry multiple wives but women may not marry more than one husband. If a woman wants a divorce, she may initiate one but not without considerable cost to her and her family including the significant loss of reputation within the family and community at large. Her family must also return the bride piece, her husband retains rights to any children, and the woman is considered damaged goods making remarriage difficult.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The inferior status of women permeates well beyond the legal realm. When a girl is born, instead of honoring her placenta as with a boy’s, hers is buried in shame underneath the bed. Education is irrelevant because as soon as a girl marries she no longer contributes to her family of origin. Once married, she is expected to bear many children, especially sons, and take care of her in-laws and their children. Women’s bodies are considered dirty during menstruation and for one month post-partum. They must always walk 5 steps behind men and it is tradition that during meals, men are served first and separate from women.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Changes in traditional gender relations between Hmong men and women began in refugee camps in Thailand. There, financial opportunities previously unavailable in Laos arose for women by selling stitchery. For the first time, women could contribute to the financial security of the family giving them power and a sense of independence.  In Laos, it is now possible for women and girls to attend school. Education is a quintessential solution for oppression and ignorance; because of it, women and girls in Laos are now demanding equality.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;These changes, and many more, continue here in America as each new generation of Hmong decide which of their traditional ways to keep and which to discard in the name of progress and assimilation. Many Hmong men are unemployed and women have become the sole breadwinners selling needlework. The importance of bearing children is far less due to the financial hardships a large family incurs. Because of American laws, girls are required to earn an education and are not permitted to marry before the age of 16. Daughters are now expected to finish high school before getting married. Modern marriage is not always arranged by relatives or via kidnap. Polygamy may be practiced unofficially, but is not legally recognized.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a generational gap regarding attitudes involving change and despite much progress in gender equity, domestic life remains much the same. Newlyweds are still expected to reside with the man’s family and the new bride is expected to care for her in-laws and their family. Strict gender roles in the home are still ingrained as described by participants in the New Year Miss Hmong pageant. When asked about their hobbies, the girls, none of whom desired to be housewives, maintained rather traditional responses:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“’In my spare time I like to help my parents and do work around the house.’ ‘My favorite thing to do when I am not studying is cook for the family.’ My hobby is taking care of children.’” (130)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each of the participants had aspirations to become career professionals but not one had an identity or expressed interests beyond career and family. Interestingly enough, when probed about their career choices, many responded with a desire not for personal success, but rather, for a chance to financially support her husband or future husband in his dreams and goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SPECIFIC ADAPTATIONS TO CATCH-HAND MARRIAGE AND POLYGAMY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Many traditional Hmong relationships between men and women have been adapted to comply with an American culture where feminism and equality are often taken for granted. The adaptation of catch-hand marriages was necessary because kidnapping is illegal in America. Shone Yang, a Hmong immigrant and college student describes an American ramification of this type of marriage:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“Today it is still happening in the United States, but not very much, because the girl or her family calls the police.” (134)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Being thrown in jail is not conducive to marriage so changes had to be made to the old tradition. Unfortunately, when traditions are altered, there are no rules and sometimes things don’t work out as planned. One such situation happened to Phooj Thao (pseudonym) who tried his version of an Americanized catch-hand marriage with another Hmong girl. The two met and fell in love while students at a junior college. Instead of kidnapping her unawares, he asked her to come home with him implying that they would be married. She agreed and upon arrival, Thao announced to his father he had brought home a wife. Unfortunately, upon hearing of her location and intent to marry Thao from his male relatives, the girl’s female relatives arrived to bring her home. After much argument and objection, the girl’s relatives called the police and unfortunately, despite what had been promised to Thao in private, the girl did not openly object to returning home with her relatives. Thao describes the scene that day: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“…she did not say anything to the police, and that was when she let the ladies pull her away. She was crying, but she did not open her mouth.” (142)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thao never saw her again. In line with traditional Hmong values and in contrast to American culture, a Hmong girl is not always free to choose whom to marry. She desires the choice but will often object in silence as her relatives decide for her. The means by which a marriage is arranged have been modified but ultimately, the family retains the right to decide whom a girl should marry.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Another necessary adaptation of traditional Hmong gender relations is in the practice of polygamous marriages. Because it is illegal, immigrants with multiple wives must legally unwed all but one. Because of this, it is accepted in Hmong culture for men, not women, to have extra-marital affairs. Sometimes, a man will unofficially marry more than one woman. Elizabeth Mee Vang’s husband wanted to do just that but she vehemently objected. She describes how hurtful and hypocritical this practice is and wishes Hmong men would consider the feelings of the women they hurt:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“I would just like for men to see us women having two husbands, and then see how they feel. Men are the most jealous of all. They get mad at you even if you’re just talking to your cousin who happens to be a man, if they don’t know him.” (144)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This double-standard is frustrating to Vang who wants desperately to be seen and treated as an equal. American standards of equality, while encouraging for women such as Vang, have presented Hmong men with the challenge of understanding their oppressive behaviors and sometimes forcing them to make adjustments. Vietnam War veteran Soua Teng Vang (no relation to Elizabeth Mee Vang) thinks his worst problem after arriving in America is not being able to control his wife. He has been arrested many times after his wife has called the police during arguments and has trouble understanding why women are “given” so many rights in America. He thinks men are dying in their sleep because they are too stressed over the upheaval in gender relations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“It seems like anything I do I could get in trouble for. I guess this might be one of the reasons why our Hmong men die in our sleep, why we have sudden death syndrome. First we had a tragic war, and now our young men can’t really deal with the change in our caste system.” (146)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faderman and Xiong describe this syndrome as Sudden Unexpected Nocturnal Death Syndrome. According to their book, it occurs among otherwise healthy immigrant men. Neither the authors nor Soua Teng Vang provide information beyond speculation as to the real epidemiology of this illness.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;While many other necessary adaptations to traditional Hmong culture exist, the changes required for kidnap marriage and polygamy were enforced immediately due to laws banning such practices here in America. This made change inevitable simply to enter the country and to function as a law-abiding citizen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CONCLUSION&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Immigrants from every corner of the world come to America seeking a better life. Whether the choice is voluntary or not, each immigrant must deal with issues in merging the culture from whence they came and the unique culture that exists in their new home. For the Hmong, a big challenge must be overcome as traditional gender relations regarding women as inferior clash with modern ideas of feminism. Long-held beliefs that women are not equal to men are challenged and ultimately doomed. The practices of catch-hand marriages and polygamy are especially troublesome as each carries legal consequences in America therefore making change necessary and sudden. Adaptations are needed as each generation struggles to find an identity in an ever-evolving society. While change may seem drastic to first-generation Hmong, it can seem tedious and slow to second and third-generation immigrants who find that little has changed in domestic life. Mai Xiong (pseudonym) describes just how little things have changed from the time her parents were in Laos to the present where she, as a daughter-in-law, is still expected to do all the cooking and cleaning for her husband’s family despite her busy school schedule. In essence, she has two full-time jobs with no expectation of help from her husband or anyone else in his family. The burden is hers and hers alone. Compounding this is the fact that men are still required to eat before the women, thus doubling her work at dinner-time leaving her little time for her studies. Her situation punctuates the fact that the Hmong have a long way to go before women are truly seen and treated as equal to men. There is hope, as Ia Vang Xiong’s father states:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;“’At this time and age it makes no difference whether she’s a girl. Here in America there is no difference.’” (163)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a first-generation immigrant this statement provides a glimmer of hope that change involving gender relations, while necessary, is possible even in the eyes of men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;POSTSCRIPT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I learned a lot during the process of this essay. It was interesting and heart-wrenching to read more about the history of the Vietnam War and Hmong involvement with American troops. I did not realize the extent of their involvement, with as many as 50% of the adult male population dying in the name of America only to be shunned and kept hidden from the society they died to represent.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As a pre-nursing student I questioned the validity of statements made regarding Sudden Unexpected Death Syndrome and came across an interesting article in the International Journal of Epidemiology (cited below). According to the article by Goh, Chao, Heng, Koo, and Poh entitled “Epidemiology of Sudden Unexpected Death Syndrome among Thai Migrant Workers in Singapore” the cause of the syndrome is actually attributed to anomalies in the conduction system of the heart, not unruly wives or stress involving gender relations. If what Vang thought were true, men of all backgrounds would be dying left and right.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Finally, as an American woman growing up in the so-called “post-Feminist era,” I find it appalling that women are treated with such disdain and hatred. It angers me that we are still considered less-than our male counterparts in Hmong culture. It is also fascinating to see how much American gender relations have changed in a single generation and how much progress has yet to be made. I think that despite the unfortunate circumstances of their arrival, and the hardships that must be endured in order to change long-held ideologies about gender relations, the Hmong are making significant progress but like us, still have a long way to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BIBLIOGRAPHY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;L FADERMAN, with G XIONG&lt;br /&gt; I Begin My Life All Over&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;K T GOH, T C CHAO, B H HENG, C C KOO, and S C POH&lt;br /&gt;Epidemiology of Sudden Unexpected Death Syndrome among Thai Migrant Workers in Singapore&lt;br /&gt;Int. J. Epidemiol. 22: 88-95.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-2216330946111348046?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/2216330946111348046/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=2216330946111348046' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/2216330946111348046'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/2216330946111348046'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/12/essay-fun.html' title='essay fun'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1633000498026440859</id><published>2008-12-01T01:28:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T02:13:37.130-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ennui</title><content type='html'>I am being rather productive with my time here tonight. So far I have made a dent in my cultural anthropology essay on american adaptations to traditional gender relations among hmong immigrants (try saying that one 3 times fast), completed a chapter for math class, and taken a bunch of useless personality tests from youniverse.com! Here are the results:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Art: Eyes Wide Open&lt;br /&gt;Movies: Thinker&lt;br /&gt;Party: Home Bird&lt;br /&gt;Mind: The Reformer&lt;br /&gt;Dating: Bashful Blusher&lt;br /&gt;Personality: Dreamer&lt;br /&gt;Love: Love Magnet&lt;br /&gt;Travel: Nature-Lover&lt;br /&gt;Well-Being: Don't Worry Be Happy&lt;br /&gt;Light My Fire: Romantic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eenteresting. So if you're ever at work and are looking for a time-waster and facebook is blocked, be sure to check out that site. It seems fairly accurate, even though I will never admit out loud that I am romantic! At least not in the traditional flowers and chocolates sort of way. Ick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really hope things pick up around here or I might be forced to sneak out my DS...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1633000498026440859?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1633000498026440859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1633000498026440859' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1633000498026440859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1633000498026440859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/12/ennui.html' title='ennui'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8719039583131639752</id><published>2008-09-14T16:45:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T16:56:34.080-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ninja skillz</title><content type='html'>So I finally got to compete after being out for almost an entire year. My legs held up pretty well considering I've only been back a short time. I still have zero timing in sparring and I don't trust my front leg yet but that will come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was great being back with all my tournament crew. Kinda like going to a family reunion, people would come up to me and say hi that I haven't seen in forever and it's just like old times. Made me feel accepted and...well...like I fit in, I guess. Very nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I surprised myself with how well I placed. Here I was going into the tournament thinking I sucked and I go and win all three of my divisions. I beat a formidable foe in the grand championship run-offs only to lose the final GC match. I'm ok with it, though, because I know that as soon as my front leg is back to normal I won't lose again. I won the overall form grand championship and was welcomed rather nicely to the "big girl" division by my fellow competitors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall, an A+ day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have lots to improve on before Diamond Nationals next month but I'm confident I'll make the necessary adjustments and continue to improve. Man I love to compete!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My legs are a bit sore and my incision sites are rather swollen so it's time to throw some ice on those bad boys and hunker down for a long night of studying. Just because I'm smart doesn't mean I don't work my ass off for that GPA. And yes, in case you were wondering, it is a 4.0 thankyouverymuch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8719039583131639752?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8719039583131639752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8719039583131639752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8719039583131639752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8719039583131639752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/09/ninja-skillz.html' title='Ninja skillz'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8848537403705913061</id><published>2008-09-08T03:37:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T03:44:26.281-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitty Crazies</title><content type='html'>My kitty went insane today. More than usual, that is. Every day she takes about 5 minutes or so to work out her kitty crazies. She bolts around the house like she's on fire making all kinds of strange noises and just as quickly as she began, she stops and resumes her normal activities (sleeping and causing trouble). Today her crazies lasted all afternoon while I was trying to get some sleep before work tonight. I didn't get much and I'm feeling it now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I opened the door of my apartment to head out to work a little black and white blur flew by my feet and scampered full-throttle down the hall. Annie Kitty had made a break for it! I dropped everything and ran after her. She made it all the way down the hall to the elevator when I finally caught up with her and she did everything she could to avoid capture. Once I finally nabbed her she moved her limbs round and round in a futile attempt to flee. I held fast and earned a nice long scratch on my arm for the effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows what kind of kitty trouble she is up to in that apartment while I am here at work hoping this gash in my arm doesn't turn into cat-scratch fever. I won't find out until tomorrow afternoon because I have school immediately following work. Hopefully all will be well and her crazies will have worked themselves out without too much disaster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8848537403705913061?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8848537403705913061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8848537403705913061' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8848537403705913061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8848537403705913061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/09/kitty-crazies.html' title='Kitty Crazies'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-724071599444406716</id><published>2008-09-07T00:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-07T00:50:50.256-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Are we there yet?</title><content type='html'>So I just signed up for the Leadership! Program at school and applied for Phi Theta Kappa AND for a volunteer position at a local battered women's shelter. As if 5 classes, working full time, and doing karate weren't enough. I like being busy. I feel useful and productive. With my chosen activities I also feel like I am contributing something positive to the universe to counter-balance all the C-R-A-P out there. Seriously, I should really stop flipping channels altogether and just outright ignore stupid people who's only goal in life is to "party" or become a "player." Sheesh. As if there weren't enough stupid people on the planet our culture seems hell-bent on rotting all our brains. I mean really, do I care who threw the biggest party, who wore what, and how about the latest &lt;insert&gt;. Just put a gun to my head now, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you tell I'm a bit...perturbed lately? I am so sick of the dishonesty, lack of integrity, bullshit, and inaneness in people these days. For some reason it pisses me off to no end. People treat others like shit, take their priveleged lives for granted, and carry on with no regard for anyone but themselves. Am I the only one who notices this? Am I the only one wasting energy on being angry about it all? Am I alone in wanting to move to Mallorca and disappear from our dispicable state of ignorance for good?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-724071599444406716?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/724071599444406716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=724071599444406716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/724071599444406716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/724071599444406716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/09/are-we-there-yet.html' title='Are we there yet?'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7132930276925909886</id><published>2008-08-25T00:04:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T00:07:53.763-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my weekend in a nutshell</title><content type='html'>Confused Patient: Help me! Help me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse: What can I help you with sweetie?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confused Patient: Help, I'm sick and I've gotta get to the hospital!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse: You are in the hospital dear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confused Patient: Oh no! I gotta get outta here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse: You need to stay here until you get better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confused Patient: Well then get me some beer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse: I'm sorry I can't do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Confused Patient: Well damn it all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7132930276925909886?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7132930276925909886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7132930276925909886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7132930276925909886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7132930276925909886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-weekend-in-nutshell.html' title='my weekend in a nutshell'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8503850885222190283</id><published>2008-08-23T06:02:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T06:11:09.871-05:00</updated><title type='text'>murder, mayhem, and madness</title><content type='html'>Perhaps I've been watching too much Law and Order lately, or maybe it's the book I just finished "Darkly Dreaming Dexter" but I have been having the most vicious dreams about all kinds of ways to murder people. Shocking, I know. Yesterday I fitfully awoke, drenched in sweat after slicing up someone as I laughed and laughed and laughed. Each carve was meticulously rendered and laid out as if to showcase each and every transgression. My slowly dying subject simply watched in silent agreement, as if knowing that he deserved it. With each cut of my blade I knew that he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I finally lost it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps it's time to start fighting more often. Obviously I have some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;aggression&lt;/span&gt; that needs to work its way out of my system. I am fearful of sleep this morning but will eventually relenquish myself to its menacing grips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8503850885222190283?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8503850885222190283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8503850885222190283' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8503850885222190283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8503850885222190283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/08/murder-mayhem-and-madness.html' title='murder, mayhem, and madness'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8723611958918290636</id><published>2008-08-18T04:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T05:00:18.860-05:00</updated><title type='text'>meh</title><content type='html'>Dear blog, it has been 13 says since my last entry. Since that time I have run, been to karate, worked like a madwoman, and become a Champion of Norrath...twice. What is my penance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's start with one entry at a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been rather uninspired as of late which makes it difficult to write. When I feel as though I am doing nothing of note it is hard to get the oomph to...note it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was very excited to get back in the karate classroom and teach about a week ago. I even taught the tots and had a blast! It's amazing how much I missed being in front of students and I jumped at the chance to help J out at his school. If money weren't an issue I would be back as an instructor in a heartbeat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Running has also gone quite well. I am up to 30 minutes three times per week and am doing it pain-free! It is so amazing to me the difference surgery has made in how I feel every time I take a step out there. I get all giddy just thinking about my next run. The dread is gone and the sledgehammers have finally subsided! My goal is to run Grandma's or TC next year. It all depends on my Italy trip and how that will affect my training. Either way I will officially become a marathoner by the end of 2009. Yay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been on a few more dates lately and I have to say, if what I've experienced is all the dating pool has to offer then I'll be staying dry thankyouverymuch. I am entirely fed up with the whole process and can't wait until school starts when I'll be too busy to even think about wasting my time with this rubbish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's off to bed for me. Got to catch a few hours of sleep before hitting the pavement this morning for my Monday run. If anybody has any topic requests, throw them my way! I'd be happy to indulge and it may help me through this writing slump.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8723611958918290636?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8723611958918290636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8723611958918290636' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8723611958918290636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8723611958918290636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/08/meh.html' title='meh'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-416680755766883527</id><published>2008-08-05T03:10:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T03:25:01.546-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ch-ch-ch-changes</title><content type='html'>I am grudgingly realizing I may not be able to run the marathon this year. I have not entirely given up the possibility but it is getting closer and closer and my progress is slow slow slow. I'm up to 20 minutes of running now and should be up to 30 minutes at the end of the week. That means I only have...about 4 hours to go...in 2 months. Let's do the math, shall we? In order to avoid injury it is only safe to increase your weekly mileage by 10%. Let's be a bit generous with that percentage because I'm a machine and I don't have the time or patience to be injured anyway. My weekly total this week should be around 10 miles. There are 8 weeks left to train. That should put me around 30 miles the week before M-day with a long run of only around 12 miles, just a few shy of the actual race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reality sucks donkey balls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel bad because I originally signed up to run the race with my friend M and I really don't want to let her down. I also got middle wheel to sign up and now I won't be able to run with her either. I fear the biggest letdown will be between me, myself, and I. I am my worst critic, after all. I think in order not to feel like a total failure I'll be forced to give myself credit for the progress I have made since surgery and look forward to Grandma's marathon next June. Yes kids, just because I'm not doing TC doesn't mean all is lost. Grandma's should be a much more reasonable goal and my legs will have healed nicely by then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grumble, grumble...I think I just faced reality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-416680755766883527?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/416680755766883527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=416680755766883527' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/416680755766883527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/416680755766883527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/08/ch-ch-ch-changes.html' title='ch-ch-ch-changes'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5900958645948684296</id><published>2008-07-28T00:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T00:52:38.963-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fraggle Rock</title><content type='html'>It always amazes me how our bodies heal. It is also amazing how strong the mind and a positive attitude can be in this process. I've seen it countless times working in a hospital and have experienced it firsthand in my own healing process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like to imagine my immune system is made up of thousands of Doozers. You know, those tiny builders from Fraggle Rock. Always working away just so the Fraggles can eat their creations; architecture is meant to be enjoyed, after all. In my case I just pretend there are no Fraggles eating up my healing scaffolding. So every day before I go to bed I mentally dispatch the Doozers and set them to work on making my legs better than before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far, it seems to be working. After all, I am up and dancing already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dance your cares away,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Worry's for another day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let the music play,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Down at Fraggle Rock.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Work you cares away,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dancing's for another day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let the Fraggles play,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;We're Gobo, Mokey, Wembley, Boober, Red.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Dance your cares away,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Worry's for another day.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let the music play,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Down at Fraggle Rock.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Down at Fraggle Rock.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Down at Fraggle Rock.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fraggle on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5900958645948684296?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5900958645948684296/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5900958645948684296' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5900958645948684296'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5900958645948684296'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/07/fraggle-rock.html' title='Fraggle Rock'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1212405337664957684</id><published>2008-07-26T02:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T03:02:10.285-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Been Too Long</title><content type='html'>Sorry for the long delay kids but I have been one busy grrrl. Here are some of the post-op milestones (so far):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 week post-op: DRIVING! I had to don a "driving shoe" because the giant black boot is not fit for pedal pushing. It felt so free to finally be able to get out of the house on my own terms, roll the windows down, and sing along to my iPod. Additional perks: adding 10-15 minutes to each trip to account for boot removal/strapping on, getting excited to go to the grocery store only to realize I had no way of pushing a cart, grabbing groceries, AND maneuvering my crutches...curses! And finally, the handicap parking pass giving me the best parking spot wherever I go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 1/2 weeks post-op: workworkwork. I was so excited to be out of the house that I even picked up extra shifts. We sat around and discussed interesting uses for crutches...sounds like a good blog topic for later...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 1/2 weeks post-op: suture removal and the "a-ok" to ditch the boots! Doc said "no running today" to which I instantly replied "so that means I can run tomorrow, right?" He just chuckled. That means "yes" to me so the next day I ran 3:30 around the pond next to my apartment. It felt A-mazing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today: Ran 5 minutes and walked for ??? maybe an hour. Yikes! Stopped by the karate school to say "hello" and I can't wait to go back to class next week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The marathon is still a "go." I refuse to quit what I've started so I'm going for it. I'm going to run every day this weekend before my first PT appointment on Monday so if they say no running yet I can say we-ell, I've been running for 5 days and I feel fabulous! You've got to outsmart those conservative healers and prove them wrong, see. Yeah, they have never seen the healing power the likes of me; I've read books on it and the Universe knows I've had plenty of practice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cat has grown accustom to my homeboundness these past few weeks and she loudly protests every time I get ready to go out. She is extra extra talkative when I get home as I suppose Rico Valentino is not a very good conversationalist...at least in cat-speak...he's rather fluent in chinchilla and poor Annie Kitty only understands Mrarw-raw-raw, "kitty night-nights," Annie-Kitty! Kitty Annie!, and the shakeshake of her treats. Silly kitty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm posting from work right now but the next time I post from home I have oodles of pictures to share so get yer bandwidth ready!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1212405337664957684?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1212405337664957684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1212405337664957684' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1212405337664957684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1212405337664957684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/07/been-too-long.html' title='Been Too Long'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-3057827138424175375</id><published>2008-07-13T21:05:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T21:29:39.107-05:00</updated><title type='text'>POD #3-6</title><content type='html'>POD #3 - I took my last Percocet yesterday and made it through 2 hours of lecture and 2 hours of lab this morning without so much as a twitch. Things are going much better than anticipated. I finally got to unwrap my legs and take shower today but it was quick as I am quite wobbly without the moon boots. As soon as I upload my camera I'll post the pictures of my incisions. I know, I know, ew but all you fellow medical people can marvel at the fine work :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;POD #4 - FINALLY got out of the house to go to the gym! I tried my best to avoid eye-contact but it gets tough when everyone is staring at you-the gimp on crutches with 2 huge black boots on. Sheesh. I did good, though. Rode the stationary bike for a whopping 20 minutes, stretched (which felt Amazing after lying around all week), and lifted weights! It felt so good to move I can't wait to back again tomorrow...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;POD #5 - Today I biked for 30 minutes and hung out with mom, dad, Little Wheel, and Uncle Garry. He made a sweet rice/salsa/tofu thing that was delicious and it felt good to be social for once this week. Oh, and nobody banters like him and Little Wheel...it's an earful to be beholden...and laughed at. Went home and watched "The Amityville Horror" which, to my surprise, was actually quite good-and quite scary. Annie Kitty even gave it two paws up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;POD #6 -  Today I woke up early and  Dad picked me up to go to the gym again (I'm not allowed to drive yet) and I rode the bike for 40 minutes before lifting weights. My legs started to ache and pinch around minute 32 but I figured they'd be ok for another 8 minutes or so and I was right. They swell up a little after my gym excursions but that's nothing a little ibuprofen and ice can't cure. Felt good to feel strong again. I miss that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, there's only so much sitting around on my arse I can take. It has gotten quite lonely hanging around my apartment all day and all night with nobody to play Monopoly with but my cat. She's a poor sport and ends up messing up all the pieces. No fun. Rico Valentino (my chinchilla) is also a poor sport and won't even come out to play when Kitty is around. I've watched more movies than one person should watch in a week, seen all the crappy television a girl can handle, played video games until my thumbs hurt, and read hundreds and hundreds of pages. AHASHDFHSEWHEIUD!!! I really do appreciate my mom being here at the beginning of the week and my dad coming to visit but it would be nice to talk to someone else besides myself...I mean, I'm awesome and everything but I'm starting to get on my nerves...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've already read my entire Chemistry textbook and I'm almost done with my "fun" book, I can't play my violin because it needs to be restrung (again), and I'm missing a string on the guitar, I'm video-gamed out, I'm not hungry, I am sick of the idiot-box, and I can't really go anywhere to do anything about it! Argh! I can't even dance around my apartment properly due to the leg-attachments and that is just no fun at all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;/rant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-3057827138424175375?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/3057827138424175375/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=3057827138424175375' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3057827138424175375'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3057827138424175375'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/07/pod-3-6.html' title='POD #3-6'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1158402807670027742</id><published>2008-07-09T18:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T18:41:24.941-05:00</updated><title type='text'>POD #2</title><content type='html'>Recovery is going much faster than anticipated. I am down to 1-2 Percocet/day for pain and 2-3 Vistaril/day for muscle relaxation. I am getting around quite easily with the aid of crutches and my main issue has been figuring out ways to pass the time as I am getting quite a case of cabin fever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a busy day. Mom drove me to class this morning and to the doctor's this afternoon. Tonight I am flying solo and just about to back to the living room and catch up on some reading before going to bed for the night. Everything is a process now. I can't just get up and go to the other room, I have to plan these things out. Put on the boots, hobble to other room...oops, forgot my phone...hobble back, grab phone, finally settle down in other room and dang! I have to go to the bathroom. Must be what it's like to have a toddler around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow I have a 4 hour marathon of class and lab back to back. Should be a tiring and painful morning so I am resting up tonight. It's chemistry and I already read the book so I'm not too worried about lecture, it's the lab that may pose a problem. Working with all those solutions and glass beakers and such...crutches and pain pills added to the mix make for a volatile situation but I'll make do. I always do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hamstrings and quads have tightened up significantly from being so inactive so my goal tonight is to get in a good stretch and drink lots and lots of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My book is calling me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1158402807670027742?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1158402807670027742/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1158402807670027742' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1158402807670027742'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1158402807670027742'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/07/pod-2.html' title='POD #2'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1993738708128275653</id><published>2008-07-08T14:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T14:55:34.777-05:00</updated><title type='text'>POD #1</title><content type='html'>Post-Op Day #1&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surgery went very well yesterday. My surgeon said that as soon as he made the incision through the fascia, the muscle relaxed significantly meaning the surgery definitely needed to be done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pain hasn't been bad at all and I've been moving about the apartment on crutches very well. I made it to chemistry lab today and will venture out again tomorrow for class. I'm still on Percocet for pain and a muscle relaxer Vistaril neither of which I am taking a lot of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am already getting antsy. With the pain at a minimum I want to jump out of bed and get to doing things but doc said "no." Mom is here Kristie-sitting as well and she's keeping the reins on tight. Doc said I could bike this week as long as I do it with the boots on. Yay! By Friday I hope to take a field trip over to the gym to get in a little workout. Today my goal is to do some push-ups and sit-ups and keep drinking lots and lots of water.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to everyone who called yesterday and talked to my mom. I was asleep most of the day so thank you mom for being my personal secretary :) I suppose I should get back to bed and put my legs up. This whole sitting down business doesn't feel the best and my room is...all the way in the next room!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1993738708128275653?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1993738708128275653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1993738708128275653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1993738708128275653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1993738708128275653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/07/pod-1.html' title='POD #1'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-3131440245347228527</id><published>2008-07-07T04:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T04:27:53.122-05:00</updated><title type='text'>DOS</title><content type='html'>Day of Surgery&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's 4:20am and I've been up since 2:30. Can't sleep a wink. It's about time to shower up and sanitize. This morning I get to scrub-a-dub in HibiCleans which makes me sanitary for surgery. Good times. I packed my "surgery bag" last night complete with a book, my iPod, extra underwear, and of course, my trusted companion Puppy. Puppy is a stuffed animal my grandma made me before my first kidney surgery when I was 4. He's been to every one since then and always keeps me safe. I know I'm too old for a stuffed animal but I don't care. Surgery is scary and it's nice to have a safety-blankie in the form of a puppy who's been there since the beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom will be picking me up in about an hour so it's off to the shower I go!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-3131440245347228527?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/3131440245347228527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=3131440245347228527' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3131440245347228527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3131440245347228527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/07/dos.html' title='DOS'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8573717678816914201</id><published>2008-07-06T21:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T21:50:36.804-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pre-Op</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow's the day. I'm heading to bed a little early tonight, mostly because I'm nervous. Better to be nervous with a good night's rest than over-tired and nerve-racked. If all goes well I'll be home tomorrow afternoon. If all goes super I'll even shluff myself outta bed and hobble over to the office to post an update!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send some positive thoughts, mmm-kay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8573717678816914201?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8573717678816914201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8573717678816914201' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8573717678816914201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8573717678816914201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/07/pre-op.html' title='Pre-Op'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1096517509103361208</id><published>2008-06-30T03:11:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T03:23:35.055-05:00</updated><title type='text'>workworkwork</title><content type='html'>I working. A lot. I figure I've got to get in as much as I can before surgery just in case I have to take more than  the 2 days off I'm planning. I still don't know for sure if it's ok that I come back to work on crutches. I should find that out in the next couple days and if it's not, then I'll be taking a good week or two off. That would not be good as I have a tendency to get stir-crazy when forced to be cooped up. Plus the not making any money part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm situating my NetFlix queue so I have some good movies to look forward to next week. Anyone have any suggestions? I also started reading a pretty good book that should last me another couple weeks. I always have a stack of books yet to be read so I should be gravy even if I finish early.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week my goals are to get my apartment cleaned up, the fridge stocked, and my bills paid so I won't have anything to worry about the week or two post-op.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also coming to the realization that the Twin Cities marathon may not be a realistic option for me. I need to speak with my doctor this week but I've heard others having the same surgery say they weren't allowed to run for at least 3-6 weeks post-op and even then it was slow-going. Hrmph. Reality can suck it. My brain isn't wired to set my sights low; in fact, I think it's a physical impossibility for me to under-achieve. I was dubbed KOA in my anatomy class, after all (Kristie Over-Achiever). So the marathon is a "go" until and only if reality forces me to admit otherwise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1096517509103361208?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1096517509103361208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1096517509103361208' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1096517509103361208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1096517509103361208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/workworkwork.html' title='workworkwork'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8592873421311843177</id><published>2008-06-28T02:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T03:09:27.307-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm going to Italy and Greece!</title><content type='html'>Next May I will be going on a 13 day tour of Italy and Greece as part of a study abroad opportunity at my college! It'll be a jam-packed couple of weeks but it will be my first time across the pond and what a way to make the most of it! Somehow I am going to figure out a way to get a run in while I'm there to get a good feel of the land, so to speak. Time to brush up on my Greek...anybody know Greek who can help me out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the itinerary:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 1&lt;/strong&gt; - Fly overnight to Italy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 2&lt;/strong&gt; - Rome&lt;br /&gt;Arrive in Rome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 3&lt;/strong&gt; - Rome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Visit to Vatican City:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sistine Chapel&lt;br /&gt;St. Peter's Basilica&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Take a guided tour of Rome:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forum Romanum&lt;br /&gt;Visit the Colosseum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Take a walking tour of Rome:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pantheon&lt;br /&gt;Trevi Fountain&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 4&lt;/strong&gt; - Rome&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy a free day in Rome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Optional:&lt;/em&gt; Florence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 5&lt;/strong&gt; - Capri • Sorrento&lt;br /&gt;Travel to Capri&lt;br /&gt;Take a guided tour of Capri&lt;br /&gt;Take an island cruise&lt;br /&gt;Continue on to Sorrento&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 6&lt;/strong&gt; - Pompeii • Brindisi • Night ferry&lt;br /&gt;Travel to Pompeii&lt;br /&gt;Take a guided tour of Pompeii&lt;br /&gt;Continue on to Brindisi&lt;br /&gt;Board an overnight ferry to Patras&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 7&lt;/strong&gt; - Patras • Delphi&lt;br /&gt;Arrive in Patras and travel to Delphi&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 8&lt;/strong&gt; - Delphi • Athens&lt;br /&gt;Take a guided tour of Delphi:&lt;br /&gt;Temple of Apollo&lt;br /&gt;Visit the Delphi Museum&lt;br /&gt;Travel to Athens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Day 9&lt;/strong&gt; - Athens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Take a guided tour of Athens:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Olympic stadium&lt;br /&gt;Omonia and Syntagma squares&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Visit the Acropolis:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parthenon&lt;br /&gt;Temple of Athena Nike&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Take a walking tour of Athens:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plaka district&lt;br /&gt;Temple of Olympian Zeus&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Optional:&lt;/em&gt; Greek Evening&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Days 10-13&lt;/strong&gt; - Greek island cruise&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Cruise the Greek islands:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mykonos&lt;br /&gt;Rhodes&lt;br /&gt;Patmos&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8592873421311843177?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8592873421311843177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8592873421311843177' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8592873421311843177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8592873421311843177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-going-to-italy-and-greece.html' title='I&apos;m going to Italy and Greece!'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1099294200250736170</id><published>2008-06-27T00:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T00:58:07.301-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh no, the big three oh!</title><content type='html'>Yeah, so I'm officially OLD. Good thing I have therapy on Monday so I can talk about everything I think I should have accomplished by now. Blech. I may be in some serious denial for awhile here...no, I didn't turn thirty...I just turned 29...again! Yeah, right. Is it really as bad as I think it is? Probably not but hell, I'm going to be irked about it until I can run it out tomorrow morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of running...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found out I can map my running routes and find out how far they are! Sweet! Here's tomorrow's 4 mile route with a cool down included:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frick, it doesn't work. Well, I'm running 4 miles at 0800 tomorrow and I'm going to be grumpy until then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1099294200250736170?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1099294200250736170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1099294200250736170' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1099294200250736170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1099294200250736170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/oh-no-big-three-oh.html' title='Oh no, the big three oh!'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7122202822109713676</id><published>2008-06-24T23:53:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T00:00:31.038-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hydrate!</title><content type='html'>What &lt;em&gt;Not&lt;/em&gt; to do the First Day of the Marathon Clinic:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;eat pretzels and drink Vault Zero all day in order to stay awake&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;not sleep for 36 hours&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;start drinking water 1/2 hour before the run while sitting in traffic&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;forget to go pee before heading out&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;wear a 10 year old sports bra&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;go counter-clockwise around Lake Calhoun as the sun is setting&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Luckily, it is rare that I'll make the same mistake twice. In the future, if anyone sees me drinking anything other than water, you have my permission to smack the back of my head and remind me about Day 1 of the Marathon Clinic.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sheesh.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Press on.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7122202822109713676?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7122202822109713676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7122202822109713676' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7122202822109713676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7122202822109713676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/hydrate.html' title='Hydrate!'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-3404254794367447939</id><published>2008-06-24T02:48:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T03:03:23.671-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Future Homeowner?</title><content type='html'>I am looking into buying a house and am thoroughly excited at the prospect of being a homeowner! I spoke with a lender today and he is working on getting me pre-qualified so I can begin working with a realtor. With the market being in the crapper right now I will be able to get a lot of house for not a lot of cash. I brainstormed some ideal qualities for my first house and here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 BR&lt;br /&gt;2 BA&lt;br /&gt;&gt; 1500 sq ft&lt;br /&gt;2-car attached garage&lt;br /&gt;newer roof &amp;amp; windows&lt;br /&gt;large deck &amp;amp; yard&lt;br /&gt;walk-in master closet :)&lt;br /&gt;wood-burning fireplace&lt;br /&gt;close to work/school (within biking distance)&lt;br /&gt;open floorplan&lt;br /&gt;plenty of counter space and storage in kitchen&lt;br /&gt;new(er) appliances&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously this is a dream list; did I miss anything? If I can get all that in my price range I will be one happy woman! This set-up will be perfect for the animals and I to settle in and make homey with plenty of room for visitors and a little bambino if I ever decide to adopt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone have any tips for a first-time homebuyer? Any recommendations or warnings?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-3404254794367447939?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/3404254794367447939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=3404254794367447939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3404254794367447939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3404254794367447939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/future-homeowner.html' title='Future Homeowner?'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-2973471241006536617</id><published>2008-06-22T22:04:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T06:30:16.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy (almost) Birthday</title><content type='html'>I get nervous about posting people's real names on here since they didn't exactly volunteer to be fodder for my online tell-alls. So until you let me know otherwise, you are all reduced to the first letter of your first name...unless you are a puppy, kitty, or chinchilla. Their names are waaay to cute to hide anyway :) There will be exceptions, like in today's post where the nickname is sufficient to mask your true identity and yet provide some continuity for the reader.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lexicon for today's post:&lt;br /&gt;Little Wheel - little sister that is big&lt;br /&gt;Middle Wheel - middle sister&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I celebrated my (almost) birthday with the fam. It is always a riot when we get the gang together and somehow we all manage to revert back to 10 years old. As you can imagine, we always end up laughing. A lot. Add in a 15 month old nephew and Middle Wheel &amp;amp; J's new puppy Nugget, well we almost had to call shenanigans the cuteness was so unbelievable! This time around we had a new addition: Little Wheel's bf W. A bit on the quiet side but they all are at first. Just look at J, he's known our family for years and I still think he gets a little nervous around us! S is becoming much more outgoing but she has the excuse of being the mommy of the cutest (and only) baby in the house so I don't know if that counts. Babies are an unfair advantage, especially when you've got the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;first&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; one in the family. I think meeting our family must be like traveling to another planet where you don't know the language and everyone is nuts-o...but in a good way! Yes, yes, he did just fine. Looking forward to seeing the fine young lad again sometime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I promised Middle Wheel I would post a photo of me wearing my new t-shirt. I don't have one yet but I will shortly and believe me, the wait will be worth it! I even got matching buttons &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; a CD sticker.  For those of you not in the know...wait for it...wait for it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to enjoy my dad's old 80GB iPod he gave to me, complete with all his awesome music! I now have more Sam, Bob, Van, and Buddy than I know what to do with! Hooray! Life is so so sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goal for tomorrow is to take some of those goofy self-shots in random places with my awesome new t-shirt. Let awesomeness ensue...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-2973471241006536617?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/2973471241006536617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=2973471241006536617' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/2973471241006536617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/2973471241006536617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/happy-almost-birthday.html' title='Happy (almost) Birthday'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7527274179951496492</id><published>2008-06-21T22:33:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T22:43:14.969-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0); font-style: italic;"&gt;If only you could sense how important you are to the lives of those you meet; how important you can be to people you may never even dream of.  There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person.&lt;br /&gt;-Fred Rogers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;I wonder if people realize their impact on others. Just a simple smile in passing, the holding of a door, or a simple "hello" can make all the difference in a person's day. It doesn't even take extra energy to do these small things and what I've found, is that by doing, you create energy for more doing. It's a perpetual cycle of positive energy wherever you go. Perhaps that energy is contagious. If only one person out of ten "catches" that energy, think of what a difference you can make! I've always believed that you can change the world one person at a time. I may not be traveling the globe in the spotlight flaunting my deeds for the next cover story but I am doing my best to make the world around me a better place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the next time you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, try a little experiment. Smile today at everyone you meet. Whether they be a stranger in passing, or a longtime friend, simply smile. If it suits you, as soon as they are gone you are free to frown to your heart's content! I guarantee that by mid-day you'll wonder how the wrong side of the bed turned into the right side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7527274179951496492?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7527274179951496492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7527274179951496492' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7527274179951496492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7527274179951496492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/its-beautiful-day-in-neighborhood.html' title='It&apos;s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-3201588959803388300</id><published>2008-06-20T02:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T03:19:03.238-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Surgery Date</title><content type='html'>Ok kids, I've finally got a date for surgery: Monday, July 7th bright and early in the AM! It'll be a same-day deal so I should be home by evening. Mom has kindly offered to "Kristie-sit" that week as I will be more or less incapacitated. Visitors will be welcome, especially if you bring egg-free cookies and episodes of &lt;em&gt;Scrubs&lt;/em&gt; :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided to restart running and continue until surgery. Mainly because I'm going crazy &lt;em&gt;without&lt;/em&gt; running but also because it's much easier to suck it up with a definite end in site. Only two weeks and I can finally begin putting all this business behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My post-op goals:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;off all narcotics by Wednesday, July 9th&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;ditch the crutches, start running, and go back to karate ASAP (I need to talk with my surgeon to set a reasonable goal-date for this)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;try not to drive my Mom (and any other Kristie-sitters) crazy!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;teach my cat how to fetch ice and Advil for me :)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Press on.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-3201588959803388300?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/3201588959803388300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=3201588959803388300' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3201588959803388300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/3201588959803388300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/surgery-date.html' title='Surgery Date'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8884467400447713577</id><published>2008-06-18T23:34:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T00:43:40.665-05:00</updated><title type='text'>neat-o</title><content type='html'>As a personal reward for doing well in therapy this week I ordered the latest album from Mates of State &lt;em&gt;"re-arrange us."&lt;/em&gt; For those of you who don't know, Mates of State are pretty darn neat. A bit on the quirky side with striking harmonies, damn catchy melodies, and epic endings. Listening to them makes me feel so...happy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I woke up this afternoon I felt like a little kid on Christmas; my Mates of State was due to arrive! I ran across the street to the office and sure enough, there it was. I double-stepped it home and tore open the package, carefully scanning each of the jewel case inserts pleasantly surprised to find the lyrics to each song printed neatly. I love lyrics and yes, I'll have the entire album memorized before the weekend hits. Popped the disc into my stereo and it was on! I can't remember the last time I had so much fun dancing around my apartment like a woman on fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had some running around to do this afternoon and I had a blast singing along, windows down, basking in the afternoon sun. Sorry to anyone who drove next to me, I know my singing is wildly off-key but I don't care. I was enjoying the heck out of myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the happy day Mates of State; you make me dance without reserve, sing at the top of my lungs, and goofy-grin all the day :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8884467400447713577?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8884467400447713577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8884467400447713577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8884467400447713577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8884467400447713577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/neat-o.html' title='neat-o'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8614210233691389760</id><published>2008-06-10T23:47:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T02:57:43.724-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a little more inspiration</title><content type='html'>&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"To succeed you have to believe in something with such a passion that it becomes a reality."&lt;br /&gt;-Anita Roddick&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;"It's unnatural for people to run around the city streets unless they are thieves or victims. It makes people nervous to see someone running. I know that when I see someone running on my street, my instincts tell me to let the dog go after him."&lt;br /&gt;-Mike Royko&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8614210233691389760?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8614210233691389760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8614210233691389760' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8614210233691389760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8614210233691389760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/little-more-inspiration.html' title='a little more inspiration'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-684933071804084804</id><published>2008-06-10T00:47:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T04:35:41.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tubular.</title><content type='html'>I am met by a cool rush of recycled air as I enter the oversized sterile room. Sitting prominantly in the middle of the room is the giant tube that looks like a grey Twinkie with the middle sucked out. The tube breathes a constant noise like a blood pressure cuff inflating...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ka-weesh, ka-weesh, ka-weesh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cold plank I am to lie on is uninviting but the warm blanket provided by the friendly tech is much appreciated. She explains the procedure and asks again if I'm claustrophobic. "Not yet!" I may change my mind but for now that's a safe answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The oversize headphones block out the tube's breath and the silence is welcome but short-lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;crank, crack, whirrrrr...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is that it?" I think to myself, "this will be a piece of cake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;clickclickclickclickclick, clackety clack, clickclickclickclickclick...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far so good. The music gently hums in my ears. Lite Rock. Not bad, not good. I chuckle a bit to myself as "Sister Christian" starts to play. Who writes this stuff anyway?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ka-RACK, ka-RACK, vrooooommm, chugchugchugchugchug&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, that's getting kinda loud. At least I have these handy headphones. A whiny man-boy complains about his feelings in my ears and I start to get irritated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;dadadadadadadadadadadadadada...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds like a jackhammer...on my head. Bette Midler tries, and fails, to harmonize with the tube. For some reason, I want to break things. Must be the music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;wreee, wreee, wreee, CLANK!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh, now it sounds like that noise the phone makes when you forget to hang it up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;WREEE, WREEE, WREEE, clank!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wonderful, the tube is harmonzing with itself. A regular doo-wop sensation. Rod Stewart's voice fills my head and compared to the rest of the soundtrack sounds rather manly. He rounds out the trio quite well. Puts a little shama lama in this ding dong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;ka-weesh, ka-weesh, ka-weesh&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to flip over and scan my legs. I will be stuck in a rather uncomfortable position for the next 20 minutes but I deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;clank, clank, whirrrrrrr!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The extra element of the discomfort added to the loud noises and the god-awful music is more than irritating at this point. Now I want to go outside and start punching people. In the throat. Intersting how rageful I get when trapped in a tube and forced to listen to soft rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;clickety-clackety-clickety-clackety-clickety-clackety&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There must be someone out there who uses this as a method of torture. I'm pretty sure I could stand a few hours of this but after that I'd be spilling my guts. Punching people seems too tame, now I want to kick them in the face. Oh wait, I'd rather start chopping down trees with my feet, like Jean-Claude Van Damme in Kickboxer. I'm awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;dip-dip-dip-dip, dooo-WAH!, hum-mum-mum-mum, BOP!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh these harmonies are fabulous :) I really love doo-wop but this is getting ridiculous. I really &lt;em&gt;don't&lt;/em&gt; like lite rock and the combination is beyond ridiculous. "Are we there yet?" I realize every muscle in my body is clenched tight but I'm afraid to relax; I don't want to mess up the scan and have to prolong this madness. Yes, this is &lt;em&gt;definitely&lt;/em&gt; a form of torture somewhere in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ka-weesh, ka-weesh, ka-weesh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's it, you're all done!" says the friendly tech. I think excessive friendliness is a job requirement for MRI techs. Either that or they should be required to wear throat protection for those patients who come out swinging. By the time I collected myself and my belongings I felt better. My violent urges had subsided and I walked outside into the sunshine and went on my way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-684933071804084804?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/684933071804084804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=684933071804084804' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/684933071804084804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/684933071804084804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/tubular.html' title='Tubular.'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-6235115526037100395</id><published>2008-06-07T10:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T10:50:06.280-05:00</updated><title type='text'>more tests</title><content type='html'>Met with the surgeon yesterday and he told me that he has never seen someone with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;both&lt;/span&gt; Popliteal Artery Entrapment Syndrome and Chronic Exertional Compartment Syndrome. In fact, there isn't even a case study that exists of someone having both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh, he doesn't know me and my medical history very well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If he did he would know that if there has never been someone with both, then the chances of me having both are pretty damn good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am scheduled for a pre and post exercise MRI on Monday to hopefully get a better idea of what is going on here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So no answers or explanations yet. I am rather frustrated and despite the gorgeous weather, rather down. I think I will get outside today to lift my spirits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-6235115526037100395?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/6235115526037100395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=6235115526037100395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6235115526037100395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6235115526037100395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/more-tests.html' title='more tests'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-6689663781829082321</id><published>2008-06-03T01:46:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T01:55:28.692-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates Galore!</title><content type='html'>My internet has been down all weekend so depending on how soon it gets fixed I may not be able to update again until I go to work on Wednesday night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The compartment pressure testing showed I definitely have compartment syndrome and I have an appointment on Friday with the surgeon who will perform the fasciotomy. I'll spill all the gory details on what's involved with that surgery later!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also made the decision to put off any running or lower-body activity until after surgery. I gave it the old college try and sucked it up as long as possible but the pain is just getting to be too much and it's making me tired, both physically &lt;em&gt;and&lt;/em&gt; mentally. My pre-op regime will include the goofy arm-bike (try not to snicker please) and the opportunity to get ripped in the weight room! Sweet! Tickets for the Big Guns Show will be on sale soon. Try not to push as you all rush to get in line!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-6689663781829082321?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/6689663781829082321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=6689663781829082321' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6689663781829082321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6689663781829082321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/06/updates-galore.html' title='Updates Galore!'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7186198197307562844</id><published>2008-05-30T23:35:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T02:44:35.821-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Great news!</title><content type='html'>There is no significant blockage in either leg! That means no bypass surgery!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The not so great news is the inability to explain my symptoms. My surgeon, diligent as ever, spoke with the radiologist and with a sports medicine doc about my case and discovered I may have developed compartment syndrome from scar tissue following the last surgery. I am lined up for compartment pressure testing on Monday morning. Apparently this involves running on a treadmill and needles being stuck into my calf muscles. Joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am still a bit tired from the aortogram and my site is pretty sore so I'll be doing lots of laying around this weekend. I'm sure I will do more than my share of worrying as well about the upcoming tests but that's par for course with me. My goal is to go outside today and get a little run in despite the soreness. I got the a-ok from the doc to resume &lt;em&gt;all&lt;/em&gt; activity on Saturday and I intend to do just that. I've got a big deal coming up in October and I plan on being ready!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hey, thanks to everyone who sent positive energy, words, and virtual hugs the other day. It helped a lot! Mucho thanks to S and S for bringing my nephew over to visit and torture the kitty! She wasn't quite sure what to make of a miniature human being who tried petting her and carried her treats around the house! And of course, thanks to dad for offering his support and mom for Kristie-sitting and making sure I drank water and ate dinner and all those things that mothers are good at. I am a lucky girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7186198197307562844?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7186198197307562844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7186198197307562844' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7186198197307562844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7186198197307562844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/great-news.html' title='Great news!'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-6941141410207454329</id><published>2008-05-28T23:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T00:03:55.243-05:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Procedure Time!</title><content type='html'>What exactly is an aortogram with bilateral runoff? Glad you asked! Here is what my patient care plan has to say provided by the friendly folks at Fairview &lt;em&gt;(my comments in italics)&lt;/em&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What happens the day of treatment?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before treatment, you will meet with a nurse. He or she will:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;take your blood pressure, heart rate, and temperature&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;place an IV tube in your vein (we will give you fluids and medicine through this tube)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;complete your paperwork&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;test your blood&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;talk about what will happen, answer your questions and show you a video&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;You will also meet with the doctor who will treat you to discuss what will happen during the treatment. You will sign a consent form.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;A family member or friend &lt;em&gt;(i.e., Kristie-sitter or mom) &lt;/em&gt;can be with you during this time.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What happens during treatment?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;We will put dye into your blood vessels, then take X-ray pictures of the vessels.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;You will lie on an X-ray. A sheet will cover you.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You will receive two drugs through your IV: one to help you relax and one to prevent pain.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We will clean the area ar your groin and give you a numbing medicine.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We will put a thin tube (catheter) into a small cut in your groin. The dye will go through this tube and into your blood vessels. &lt;em&gt;(For my procedure the tube will be threaded through to my abdominal aorta and the dye will "run off" down through the vessels in both legs at rest to check for any areas that may be bloccked off or occluded. Then I will flex both my feet to check for occlusions during flexion. My first aortogram showed 100% occlusion below the knees on both legs. Ouch! Let's hope for a better result this time).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;You may notice a warm feeling or pressure in your legs or back from the dye.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;We will take X-ray pictures.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If we use a balloon inflation or a stent to fix a blockage, you may feel a dull pressure. It is normal to feel a little pain when the balloon inflates.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When we are finished, we will remove the tube. Pressure is applied to the place where the tube was.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Your family or friends can wait in the lobby during your treatment.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So that's that. A relatively simple and painless procedure that should give more insight into where the blockage is occurring and what exactly will be done to fix it. If you remember, please send some positive energy my way tomorrow. I probably won't be able to post an update until I'm able to walk around like the rest of my fellow bipeds (Friday or Saturday).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Press on.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-6941141410207454329?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/6941141410207454329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=6941141410207454329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6941141410207454329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6941141410207454329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/its-procedure-time.html' title='It&apos;s Procedure Time!'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5506300384474711652</id><published>2008-05-28T00:40:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T00:18:16.329-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I please have 25 hours in a day? Puh-leeeze?</title><content type='html'>All I wanted was just one more hour of fitful sleep. Just one. Working 32/48 hours will do that to you. Not to mention sleeping like c-r-a-p. Woke up three separate times in cold sweats and rapid breathing...like I had just fought for an hour and then jumped into bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cat now officially thinks I'm insane...but she loves me anyway!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obviously the crazy dreams have not stopped, in fact they are becoming quite disturbing and causing me to &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; sleep. I have a sneaking suspicion my mind is on overdrive with my aortogram only one day away. Even though I have been through the procedure twice before I am still apprehensive and a little frightened at what they will (or will not) find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My goal for Wednesday is to straighten up around the house so when I come home from the hospital (hopefully on Thursday) everything will be nice and neat. No extra mess, no added stress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work Wednesday night (because that's how workaholics roll) and check in for my 0730 aortogram at 0600 Thursday morning. Barring any complications I should be home on some delightfully mind-altering narcotics by Thursday night. All positive thoughts during that time will be much appreciated. I can't promise I'll be answering my phone if anyone wants to chat but whoever is lucky enough to be my Kristie-sitter that night may be persuaded to play secretary...that is, if I ask nice enough &lt;em&gt;before&lt;/em&gt; getting drugged up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll stay close to home for my run tomorrow. There is a small lake next to my building that is quite beautiful, especially with all the fluffy baby geese waddling around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5506300384474711652?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5506300384474711652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5506300384474711652' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5506300384474711652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5506300384474711652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/can-i-please-have-25-hours-in-day-puh.html' title='Can I please have 25 hours in a day? Puh-leeeze?'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-634930675309067983</id><published>2008-05-27T20:55:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T10:30:34.267-06:00</updated><title type='text'>as promised...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Lucy all dolled up for the occasion:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-GLVRuYI/AAAAAAAAAAw/16LRdvTJiRU/s1600-h/Lucy.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-GLVRuYI/AAAAAAAAAAw/16LRdvTJiRU/s320/Lucy.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205244282663975298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obie all handsome in his tux:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-GrVRuZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/6QXRPeHEACM/s1600-h/Obie.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-GrVRuZI/AAAAAAAAAA4/6QXRPeHEACM/s320/Obie.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205244291253909906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me trying to look presentable:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-G7VRuaI/AAAAAAAAABA/sydbbj77_IM/s1600-h/posing.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-G7VRuaI/AAAAAAAAABA/sydbbj77_IM/s320/posing.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205244295548877218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The swankest show in town:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-HbVRubI/AAAAAAAAABI/Z4uPdBAd0HU/s1600-h/Marquee.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-HbVRubI/AAAAAAAAABI/Z4uPdBAd0HU/s320/Marquee.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205244304138811826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The getaway car:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy9qLVRuXI/AAAAAAAAAAo/dbXU7DkEH20/s1600-h/GetawayCar.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy9qLVRuXI/AAAAAAAAAAo/dbXU7DkEH20/s320/GetawayCar.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5205243801627638130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-634930675309067983?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/634930675309067983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=634930675309067983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/634930675309067983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/634930675309067983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/as-promised.html' title='as promised...'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SDy-GLVRuYI/AAAAAAAAAAw/16LRdvTJiRU/s72-c/Lucy.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5961961347098494195</id><published>2008-05-25T14:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T14:52:36.163-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Marital Bliss?</title><content type='html'>I am just about to go to my best friend's wedding. It's quite surreal, in fact. We go all the way back to high school and have lost touch a couple times since then but every time we talk it's like we never skipped a beat. In a way I consider her my sister and it will be strange to see my little "sister" walk down the aisle today. She's all grow'd up, *sniff!*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have training updates, etc. on the way but it's time to get into my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dress&lt;/span&gt;...yes kids, I am wearing a dress (and I look damn fine in it if I do say so myself) so try not to fall all over yourselves when I post pictures!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Updates and photos coming soon!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5961961347098494195?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5961961347098494195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5961961347098494195' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5961961347098494195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5961961347098494195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/marital-bliss.html' title='Marital Bliss?'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8692754740539828443</id><published>2008-05-23T00:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-23T00:27:06.426-05:00</updated><title type='text'>See, I told you it would work out.</title><content type='html'>Like magic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No sooner had I posted my last entry when the phone rings and it's time to schedule my angio. Next Thursday is the day and after that things should move rather quickly toward surgery but no definite date for that yet. My primary doc was able to squeeze me in tomorrow morning for a pre-op physical so let's get this show on the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't check in before then, try to send some positive juju my way next Thursday. Maybe later I'll tell the story of how I bled out after my first angio...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8692754740539828443?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8692754740539828443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8692754740539828443' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8692754740539828443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8692754740539828443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/see-i-told-you-it-would-work-out.html' title='See, I told you it would work out.'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-287985701938074225</id><published>2008-05-22T17:54:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T17:54:01.368-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Scheduling Snafus</title><content type='html'>Things have been moved back a bit and I'm starting to get nervous. Not only do I have a limited time to get back on my feet (hehe, pun intended) but I have a summer class that starts on June 3rd. The clock is ticking, people!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My surgeon is a busy guy and now his scheduler is out of town for the remainder of the week. With the holiday on Monday, things won't get rolling with the angio until late next week at the earliest meaning surgery early June therefore missing school, the beginning of my official marathon training program, and quite possibly my sanity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well whatever, and &lt;em&gt;whenever&lt;/em&gt; it happens things will work out in the end. They always do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-287985701938074225?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/287985701938074225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=287985701938074225' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/287985701938074225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/287985701938074225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/scheduling-snafus.html' title='Scheduling Snafus'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5698714596375574689</id><published>2008-05-21T23:46:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-22T03:04:28.284-05:00</updated><title type='text'>strange dreams</title><content type='html'>I've been having the strangest dreams lately...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Always running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time it's along a well-worn path through an overgrown field. Stems of withered brown blend with blades of lush green. The breeze is a fragrant pat on my shoulder. I tread lightly where many have traveled before. Something is coming but I'm not quite sure what it is. All I know is that I can't let It catch me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly I am on a sidewalk that winds around to a small brick building. It looks like a library with large glass windows stretching from floor to ceiling. A large concrete walk snakes around dotted only by patches of freshly-groomed flower beds. There is a lookout with a small blue rail before the earth drops off into the water that separates me from this symbol of civilization. The sky is a deep blue and the sun reflects off the pond that swirls lazily with each whispered gust. The sidewalk on which I run continues around a large grass hill, one that is probably a neighborhood favorite come winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must climb the hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a steady rise at first and I am feeling strong. I pump my arms and drive my knees. I hear children playing at the top, oblivious to my struggle. It's coming. Somebody help me, It's coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A small boy appears at the door of the building. He watches me with grave intent. He whispers but it sounds like a scream, "It's coming." His face is solemn as he takes a step towards the lookout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The hill is steep now. My breath is moving in desperate gasps. I stumble and fall to my knees. A grass wall looms in front of me. So steep but I must reach the top. Everything will be fine if I can just reach the top. The boy cranes his neck to see me get up and brush off the dirt. I can still hear the children playing. A small gust of wind urges me forward and I begin to climb.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so steep I am mostly upright but able to grasp thick blades in front of me. My toe slips and I'm hanging on by a handful of dirt. It slips. I slip. The boy grabs the rail, white-knuckled, his eyes wide and pleading. There is no sound but the slow crumble of the earth beneath my hands, like boulders in a landslide. Somehow I manage to regain footing and return to my panicked scramble upward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I reach the top I am blinded by a blazing sun. I swat my hands around thin air in front of me and spin around in senseless confusion. The earth rises up to meet my cheek and as I lie there enervated, I see the world has indeed returned to normal. The children are playing, the boy has disappeared, the grass is prickly on my face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I get up and I run.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wake up and I am thirsty, so very thirsty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to analyze and discuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5698714596375574689?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5698714596375574689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5698714596375574689' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5698714596375574689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5698714596375574689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/strange-dreams.html' title='strange dreams'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7333181952538155894</id><published>2008-05-18T23:56:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-19T00:14:23.249-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Runners Are Strange, Part 2</title><content type='html'>-we know how many miles are on our shoes but couldn't tell you how many are on our car&lt;br /&gt;-mud is fun&lt;br /&gt;-curbs were actually invented to stretch calves, not protect cars&lt;br /&gt;-yes, that beeping is coming from my watch, time to hydrate!&lt;br /&gt;-for the last time, they're called spikes, not cleats!&lt;br /&gt;-we can tell you our heart rate at any given second of any given day&lt;br /&gt;-if our pee isn't clear we'll drink and drink and drink (water) until it is&lt;br /&gt;-we have a warm-up mix, a cool-down mix, an interval mix, an LSD mix, etc...&lt;br /&gt;-we obsess over our iPods&lt;br /&gt;-LSD isn't a drug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7333181952538155894?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7333181952538155894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7333181952538155894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7333181952538155894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7333181952538155894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/runners-are-strange-part-2.html' title='Runners Are Strange, Part 2'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8032313288666587097</id><published>2008-05-17T23:45:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T02:10:14.505-05:00</updated><title type='text'>zzzzz...</title><content type='html'>The State Park field trip has been rescheduled for next weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I was a bit behind on sleep because that's about all I did today. I managed to clean up around the dining room, play a few rounds of fetch with Annie Kitty, and make a few phone calls but that's about it. Part of me feels like a lazy bum but another part of me feels rested and energized. I think I'll pay attention to the latter to ensure a productive tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, the only running I did was to the phone when it rang and I was in the other room. For today, that will have to be good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See how I chose to focus on the positive, then accepted the reality of the situation, and can now move on? My therapist will be so proud!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8032313288666587097?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8032313288666587097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8032313288666587097' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8032313288666587097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8032313288666587097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/zzzzz.html' title='zzzzz...'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-4673474331312809308</id><published>2008-05-16T23:47:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-17T01:53:45.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rather Productive Day Off</title><content type='html'>Today was a day off and I took full advantage. I reorganized my bookshelf, trimmed kitty's claws (this took the better part of the afternoon), caught up on phone calls and e-mails, cleaned the guest bathroom, ate some junk food, and watched the fantastic basketball games!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am planning my field trip for tomorrow...oh where oh where shall I run? I need to collect some stamps in my Passport Club and Hiking Club books so I may hit one of Minnesota's lovely State Parks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love being nerdy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-4673474331312809308?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/4673474331312809308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=4673474331312809308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/4673474331312809308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/4673474331312809308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/rather-productive-day-off.html' title='A Rather Productive Day Off'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1118150126060996993</id><published>2008-05-16T18:36:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T19:06:50.119-05:00</updated><title type='text'>reflections on the water</title><content type='html'>Had so much fun at Staring Lake last week I decided to do my 2 miles there again yesterday. This time it was a perfect 76 degrees with plenty of sunshine. I even shaved 4 minutes off my time from last week and my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;calves&lt;/span&gt; didn't hurt!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards I went out on one of the docks to stretch, do some abs, knock out some push-ups, and enjoy how the sunshine reflected off the rippling water as a light breeze kissed the surface.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I am lucky enough to live on the water one day. Soothes my soul...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"There've been times that I thought&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't last for long&lt;br /&gt;but now I think I'm able&lt;br /&gt;to carry on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been a long&lt;br /&gt;a long time coming&lt;br /&gt;but I know&lt;br /&gt;a change gon' come,&lt;br /&gt;oh yes it will."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singing straight to my soul, Sam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1118150126060996993?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1118150126060996993/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1118150126060996993' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1118150126060996993'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1118150126060996993'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/reflections-on-water.html' title='reflections on the water'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-4825895431988968508</id><published>2008-05-16T17:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-16T21:14:51.950-05:00</updated><title type='text'>70 and Sunny!</title><content type='html'>It was a beautiful day on Wednesday so I headed out to Lake Calhoun for my run. The entire state had risen from hibernation and was out and about soaking in the sun. Things got a little tough around 15 minutes but Buju Banton &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"...walk like a champion, act like a champion..."&lt;/span&gt; &amp; MIA &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"...we pack and deliver like UPS trucks..."&lt;/span&gt; were in my headphones to cheer me on and induce a second wind...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gotta love it. The rest was easy and I thanked the music and the sunshine with a smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-4825895431988968508?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/4825895431988968508/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=4825895431988968508' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/4825895431988968508'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/4825895431988968508'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/70-and-sunny.html' title='70 and Sunny!'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1310927883613740498</id><published>2008-05-13T23:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T00:02:07.978-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I Love My Family</title><content type='html'>I love my family. Here is reason # 348912349781364983:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Came home this afternoon from a long night of work and a long day of appointments to find my mom and sister there assembling a new floor lamp (I tripped over mine and broke it a few weeks ago because I'm graceful like that), putting away groceries, and finishing up some laundry. It was such a relief after a painful couple of days to have those few things done I just about cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After they left I shluffed off to bed for a much-needed day of sleep. I didn't have the energy to run and my calves, while better than yesterday, were still a bit sore. I came to the decision that it was ok I didn't run today. I have to take a deep breath to say I accept my decision but there it is. I look forward to running tomorrow and, thanks to my awesome family, having some yummy food to eat afterwards :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1310927883613740498?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1310927883613740498/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1310927883613740498' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1310927883613740498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1310927883613740498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/why-i-love-my-family.html' title='Why I Love My Family'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5775463787497599992</id><published>2008-05-12T20:54:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T10:30:34.694-06:00</updated><title type='text'>vein mapping and tangents</title><content type='html'>For all those who are wondering, this is what a vein map looks like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SCj0-fWZrpI/AAAAAAAAAAg/NJbfFwnl0tI/s1600-h/veinmap1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SCj0-fWZrpI/AAAAAAAAAAg/NJbfFwnl0tI/s320/veinmap1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199675124203761298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and yes, those are "Little Miss Naughty" jammies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My vasculature, however, does not. Apparently the vein in my right leg is "incongruous" and therefore not suitable for harvest. Good thing I've got two, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been pretty good about dealing with the news and such so far but today I started getting...a little scared. This isn't exactly your garden-variety surgery for your textbook problem. Hell, back when my surgeon first operated everything was basically experimental; he even had to "invent" the tests necessary to diagnose and monitor my symptoms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay, I'm a medical miracle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am definitely staying positive but today I am scared, and even a bit sad. The thought of the hours of rehab ahead of me, the pain of learning how to walk again, and the reality of spending more time in the hospital as a patient (not as a worker like it's supposed to be) is daunting and overwhelming. This is a pretty big setback at a point in my life when the clock is ticking. Let's face it, I'm no spring chicken anymore and every day I spend not getting to where I want to be is...well what if I never get to where I want to be?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fabulous, this has spawned quite the inner-dialogue...are you ready?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always known what I've wanted out of life and always done what I could to get it. Looking back, I have accomplished most of what I set out to do. Obviously life happens and certain goals needed to be adjusted but that's all part of the process. I guess I had always figured that the things I wanted, but couldn't really do much about getting would somehow come. Like the whole silly business of wanting a family of my own and all that squishy stuff. Well, ok, it's not silly but I'm trying to minimize it so I don't feel like I'm missing out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I love my family and friends and feel like the luckiest person in the world to have them in my life. I want something of my own too. I can't really plan on it happening though because that would mean planning around a major unknown. Most of my friends are married and/or having kids so that certainly doesn't make it any easier. Also, I have fallen in love with the show "Jon and Kate Plus Eight." I know, I know, laugh all you want but damn they do some of the cutest things! I absolutely adore all the traditions their family has come up with over the years and I can't wait to introduce a new generation of Stiles to all our wacky family antics!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'm thinking all this life-crap would be easier to manage somehow if I had someone around to laugh at (and laugh at me) once in awhile. Maybe I'm just romanticizing the whole thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it's really that important to me then I guess I don't need to wait for someone to magically appear out of thin air. Magic only happens at Disney and then they take all your money. Once I finish school and have a better job there wouldn't be anything stopping me from adopting kids and having a family of my own...on my own. Those kids need a home too and if I have one I am more than happy to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there's the whole debate on have I lived a life worth living? As unpleasant as it is to acknowledge, there is a chance of dying during or after major surgery. If that were to happen, on departure, will my presence in this universe, however brief, leave it a little better than when I arrived? Have I made a positive difference in someone's life? How will I be remembered? &lt;em&gt;Will&lt;/em&gt; I be remembered?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now how the heck does all this relate to vein mapping? Glad you asked! I guess this entire experience is teaching me the value of re-mapping my life. I may not be where I thought I "should" be by now, my previous dreams may be incongruous with the current reality and therefore no longer suitable for harvest. Good thing I can have more than one dream and more than one way to get "there" wherever it may be. No matter how small I am or how brief my time, I have made a difference. Just ask my former students, my family, my friends, my chinchillas and my kitty. I've done the best I can so far just trying to bring a little sunshine with me wherever I go. I can only do so much but I'm proud of everything so far.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5775463787497599992?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5775463787497599992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5775463787497599992' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5775463787497599992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5775463787497599992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/vein-mapping-and-tangents.html' title='vein mapping and tangents'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SCj0-fWZrpI/AAAAAAAAAAg/NJbfFwnl0tI/s72-c/veinmap1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-5620592610319139818</id><published>2008-05-11T22:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T22:23:49.439-05:00</updated><title type='text'>sledgehammers ahead</title><content type='html'>I really wanted to go to the grocery store today but I can barely walk from one end of my apartment to the other. My legs feel like somebody took a sledgehammer to them over and over and over...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So no, I won't be leaving home today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured out if I walk on my heels without really lifting my toes or pushing off the balls of my feet to take a step they don't hurt that bad. They just ache which is much better than the aforementioned sledgehammer effect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing tomorrow I have the choice of doing some cross training or sitting on my ass. Maybe I'll be able to walk like a normal person by then. If not, everyone can laugh at my sorry attempt at a waddle. I aim to amuse, just ignore the grimace on my face if I accidentally try to do my fast walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. - Thanks to Sam for letting me sit down all evening watching basketball while he made me dinner and walked my laundry all the way down the hall :) You're the best!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-5620592610319139818?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/5620592610319139818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=5620592610319139818' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5620592610319139818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/5620592610319139818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/sledgehammers-ahead.html' title='sledgehammers ahead'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7892243766897938289</id><published>2008-05-11T13:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T10:30:34.948-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Save My Ta Tas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SCc7-PWZroI/AAAAAAAAAAY/asfDKJ_nttk/s1600-h/komen.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SCc7-PWZroI/AAAAAAAAAAY/asfDKJ_nttk/s320/komen.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199190235280944770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was quite chilly out this morning as I stepped out onto the north parking lot of the Mall of America. The temperature, that is, not the people. I was instantly transported into a world of acceptance, joy, and unity for a cause. For those of you who don't know, today, Mother's Day, was the day of the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure for Breast Cancer. Thousands of people gathered in memory of those who died and in celebration of those who survived. From tiny tots in strollers to old women in wheelchairs and everything in between. So many names of why people were running. So many lives affected by a disease with no cure. So many faces of hope as women wearing pink shirts passing by with a smile (the pink shirts are reserved solely for survivors). The air was that of celebration and hope. Made me all warm and fuzzy inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the link for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure website. Check out all the great information about breast cancer, research, treatment, and survival. &lt;a href="http://www.komen.org"&gt;Moving My Buns to Save My Breasts!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over 200,000 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer this year. Early detection is key for survival so all you women out there, do your monthly self exam and/or get your annual mammogram &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;today!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7892243766897938289?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.komen.org' title='Save My Ta Tas'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7892243766897938289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7892243766897938289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7892243766897938289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7892243766897938289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/save-my-ta-tas.html' title='Save My Ta Tas'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SCc7-PWZroI/AAAAAAAAAAY/asfDKJ_nttk/s72-c/komen.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7396268684017423149</id><published>2008-05-11T03:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T03:52:38.549-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What time is it again?</title><content type='html'>It's ass-crack o'clock and I am up and at 'em. Not by choice. I had meant to sleep for at least another couple hours but my calves had other plans. I thought they were giving me a respite when they weren't hurting during my run yesterday but it turns out they were just saving up for now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me elaborate. Do you remember getting a tetanus shot? Remember how it felt like someone had punched you in the arm &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; hard for a few days afterward? That's how my legs feel right now. Usually they feel like someone punched me there sorta hard but tonight they are screaming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest is out of the question. In fact, I barely know what that strange word means.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ice doesn't help...kinda restricts the blood flow and I have enough of that going on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Compression...see Ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elevation...again, see Ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Advil. Only helps a little so I try not to pump my poor, overworked kidneys full of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I'm up. I was going to get up soon anyway for the Komen 5K which starts in...3 1/2 hours. Damn, that's at least 2 hours of sleep right there. Ah well. I'll be getting my dishes and laundry done instead!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post an update on the race. Should be a bit chilly but I don't think I'll notice. The camaraderie for a singular cause should warm me up plenty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sleep on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7396268684017423149?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7396268684017423149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7396268684017423149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7396268684017423149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7396268684017423149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-time-is-it-again.html' title='What time is it again?'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-2390464144300211205</id><published>2008-05-10T14:23:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-11T03:55:18.975-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Run Down Memory Lane</title><content type='html'>It wasn't raining when I left for my field trip out to Staring Lake for today's run. It started as soon as I hit the freeway with a drizzle progressing to full-on downpour by the time I turned by Oak Pointe. I thought about giving up and going to the health club instead but the thought of another treadmill run this week, even if impressive calf-man and impressively tan calf-man make an appearance, made me want to go home and sleep instead. So I sucked it up and kept going. The universe told me I had made the right decision when the rain suddenly stopped just as I stepped out of the Silver Stallion for my run down memory lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's begin at the playground. The jungle gyms have changed quite a bit since my days of sand castles and swing sets. I remember spending hours here running around like a wild child with my friends. If I am not mistaken, I think there used to be a zip line at the far end of the park but I am not sure of that. Can any of my EP peeps help me out on this one?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh, I just said peeps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trail takes a steep decline as you pass the park and opens up to a view of the amphitheater on your right. The amphitheater my friends and I saw Inflatable Date at one year and rushed the stage pretending to be screaming groupies at our friend the guitarist's feet. Good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pass the bench and continue counterclockwise around the lake. I seem to remember running repeats along this stretch of trail on more than one occasion. This area is quite serene as you disappear into the woods and lose sight of civilization for awhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at this point when I realized I forgot my iPod. No worries, the birds were singing a sweet serenade to the drum of my footsteps and the swoosh-swoosh of my windbreaker. I was all one with my thoughts and decided I wasn't going to miss my music today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rounding the bend I crossed the bridge over Purgatory Creek and into the area of the Nature Center. I can't remember who I came here with the most but I remember spending a lot of time here as well. Yeah, I'm a bit of a nature-girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cross the bridge back onto the main trail and wind around until you run parallel to Staring Lake Parkway and all the mansions. I can't imagine what it would be like to live somewhere with so much &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;space.&lt;/span&gt; Seems a bit of a waste to me. I like my cozy apartment with no property taxes thankyouverymuch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best part of the run was near then end passing by the sliding hill. So many fond memories tubing here with family and friends. One year we had liberated some trays from the school cafeteria and realized they made sweet sleds. Another time we drank hot chocolate all night and played cards instead of tubing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I climbed the hill at the end of my run I thanked myself for braving mother nature. The rain was a welcome respite on my heated face by this time and as the wind picked up I vowed to remember my experience next time I think I'd rather curl up in bed instead of facing the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-2390464144300211205?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/2390464144300211205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=2390464144300211205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/2390464144300211205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/2390464144300211205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/run-down-memory-lane.html' title='A Run Down Memory Lane'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8335729194002695241</id><published>2008-05-09T01:07:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-09T01:48:32.348-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Runners Are Strange, Part 1</title><content type='html'>This will be an ongoing series of the blog. From time to time I will list and/or elaborate on all the strange things us runners do. Feel free to add to the list. Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Runner's Are Strange, Part 1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-spitting is an art form&lt;br /&gt;-same goes for farmer blows&lt;br /&gt;-frozen veggies are not for eating&lt;br /&gt;-golf courses are not for golf&lt;br /&gt;-splits have nothing to do with stretching&lt;br /&gt;-nipple tape is perfectly normal&lt;br /&gt;-we could make a quilt (or ten) out of old race t-shirts, especially the cotton ones&lt;br /&gt;-we know the distance in miles and kilometers from our house to just about anywhere (within running distance)&lt;br /&gt;-Gu, PowerBar, and Gatorade should each have their own place on the Food Guide Pyramid with pasta and beer filling up the rest&lt;br /&gt;-we have every race bib we've ever worn tucked away in a box or scrapbook and every safety pin strewn about the house&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all for today. Press on!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8335729194002695241?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8335729194002695241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8335729194002695241' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8335729194002695241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8335729194002695241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/runners-are-strange-part-1.html' title='Runners Are Strange, Part 1'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8333487407039720994</id><published>2008-05-08T14:32:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T14:51:25.425-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why I've Almost Lost Faith</title><content type='html'>It was a short two miles today but somehow I had plenty of time to reminisce about life, love, and whether the two shall meet. Now let me set things straight, I believe people are inherently good. I choose to seek out the potential in people, sometimes overlooking the bad. This has gotten me into situations with people who, somewhere along the path of life strayed from their essence to do bad things. Very bad things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet somehow I manage to cling to the belief that we are all good. This stubborn hold on an ideology has unfortunately taken a toll on my heart. When it comes to relationships with men I have found more than my share of those who have strayed. The last person I fell in Love with was nothing but a lying cheat who never had any respect for me. This absolutely boggles my mind! I just don't understand how one can treat another so terrible! It just doesn't compute in my head with my beliefs. If I say I Love someone I Love them. Entirely. There is no lying, no "accidental" straying, no apathy or disrespect, only unconditional Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last person I actually liked and wanted to see more of fed me all the lines I wanted to hear and then disappeared off the face of the earth. I mean who does that? If I say I like someone I mean it, I don't go around spewing shit for no reason. I say what I mean and mean what I say. Is that really such a rare thing these days?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am perilously close to losing all hope in manity. So far my crazy notion that adults should honestly, and openly communicate and say what they mean and mean what they say has been proven wrong. Over and over and over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't checked myself out of the dating world &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;yet&lt;/span&gt; but believe me I'm hanging in there by a thread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Overall it was a productive 2 miles but I must admit I'm feeling a bit sad about the entire subject. I don't want to lose hope. I don't want to lose the part of me that believes in True Love and the sweeping off of feet and the endless oasis in strong embraces...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the only thing to do for now is press on...with caution...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8333487407039720994?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8333487407039720994/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8333487407039720994' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8333487407039720994'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8333487407039720994'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/why-ive-almost-lost-faith.html' title='Why I&apos;ve Almost Lost Faith'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7096647951942991010</id><published>2008-05-08T02:55:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T02:57:19.931-05:00</updated><title type='text'>a little inspiration</title><content type='html'>You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face...you must do the thing you think you cannot do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Eleanor Roosevelt&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn't have put it better myself sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7096647951942991010?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7096647951942991010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7096647951942991010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7096647951942991010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7096647951942991010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/little-inspiration.html' title='a little inspiration'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-8416387318472173860</id><published>2008-05-07T21:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T00:19:58.965-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sleep is good...</title><content type='html'>...sleeping through your run time,&lt;br /&gt;not so good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-8416387318472173860?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/8416387318472173860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=8416387318472173860' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8416387318472173860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/8416387318472173860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/sleep-is-good.html' title='Sleep is good...'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-6579512382776554729</id><published>2008-05-06T23:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-08T00:15:44.740-05:00</updated><title type='text'>rainy days and Tuesdays always get me down</title><content type='html'>It started out as a gorgeous day. Sunny, warm, and not too windy. I had appointments all morning and enjoyed the drive around town with the moon roof down and the music up loud! It was just about the time I arrived home, energized and ready to run today's 2 miles when the skies opened up and said "how about a swim instead?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to the health club for a date with the treadmill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They are remodeling my club and everything looks all spiffy and new but I am a little irked with the layout of the cardio area. It's an intelligent design, with large TV banks in the middle with half the machines facing the other half. My issue is that I have to &lt;em&gt;look&lt;/em&gt; at the other half of the room looking back at &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;. When I go to the club I am not one of those women who get all dolled up &lt;em&gt;before&lt;/em&gt; working out in hope of being accosted by one of the meat heads preening in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors by the free weights. I throw on my headphones, avoid eye-contact, and stay focused on the workout at hand. No time for jibber-jabber, see? So this new layout puts a serious wrench in the no eye-contact rule and forces me to stare at creepy stairmaster-guy and over-zealous recumbant bike woman while I try to crank out my measly two miles as fast as possible. There's only so much College Jeopardy I can stand while bouncing up and down before feeling nauseous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To save the day, an older gentleman hopped on the cross-trainer in front of me with the most perfect calf muscles I've ever seen! As I ran, admiring the way the tendons enclosed the popliteal space, another man, equally old, jumped on the machine next to him with an even &lt;em&gt;more&lt;/em&gt; impressive set! His were slightly more defined and plenty tan to show off each and every delicious curve. I love me a good pair of calf muscles. Before I knew it the two miles were up. I said a silent farewell to the two impressive calf-men, did my obligatory stretch, and headed out in the rainy afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-6579512382776554729?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/6579512382776554729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=6579512382776554729' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6579512382776554729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/6579512382776554729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/rainy-days-and-tuesdays-always-get-me.html' title='rainy days and Tuesdays always get me down'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-975741111137166118</id><published>2008-05-05T05:45:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T06:23:57.254-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Brief History of My World</title><content type='html'>For those of you who are not familiar with my colorful surgical past read on. The rest of you can wait on bated breath for my next post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had more surgeries than an 80 year old with a heart condition. My scars will win any contest and I know more about my innards than I sometimes care to admit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spare you the early years and skip ahead to my early twenties. I presented to our team's sports doc with shortness of breath. I was getting overwhelmingly tired during practice and noticed that despite my conditioning I was breathing much harder than usual. I was diagnosed as having exercise-induced asthma and was prescribed a myriad of medications and inhalers. Of course this was a misdiagnosis and none of the meds worked. Follow-up visits turned into fishing expeditions peppered with blood work, image scans, and various tests all negative. Our frustration grew and I began to notice extreme fatigue and tightness in my calf muscles. This was nothing new but due to the demands of D1 training I decided it deserved a mention. On a whim, my doc suggested we take my distal pulses before and after workouts just to see what would happen. Lo and behold I had normal pulses at rest and diminished pulses after practice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This, of course, was not good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was instantly referred to the greatest vascular surgeon ever and put through another battery of tests. I was diagnosed with a rare condition called Popliteal Artery Entrapment Syndrome, or PAES. I will try and dig up a picture of my angiogram showing 100% occlusion from the popliteal space down on BOTH legs. No wonder my legs hurt! The radiologist who performed the angio told me I would never run again. My surgeon's colleagues said my case was inoperable. Luckily, my surgeon was just as stubborn as I and was determined to fix me good as new. The first operation was an exploratory endeavor where he freed up the space around the artery by shaving off a good portion of the medial attachment of both gastrocnemius muscles. Having surgery on one leg is bad enough but imagine trying to get up and walk around on two post-surgical legs. It was months before I regained full range of motion and was comfortably able to run again. I say comfortably because I was actually up and doing something that resembled running shortly after surgery. I recall weaning myself off all narcotics within a couple days because I was worried the NCAA would give me a drug test and I would fail! I continued to run and compete until...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The pain returned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another round of tests and a visit with my surgeon showed my body was quite good at adapting. Too good, in fact. The attachments had grown back even bigger than before! In a normal person regeneration is good. Not so in my case! The decision was made to operate again, this time completely severing each attachment. This meant I would forever have weaker calf muscles but this outweighed the alternative. More rehab and learning how to walk, this time with the disadvantage of less muscle mass and stability in my joint. I give major props to the PT and weight room staff at the U for inventing creative ways for me to rehab and train.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once again, the pain returned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time the cause of the occlusion was difficult to determine but something had to be done. Onto bilateral popliteal bypass. This was by far the most difficult surgery in terms of recovery. I had 4 scars on my right leg (2 from the bypass and 2 from the harvest of my GS vein) and 2 on my left making movement extremely difficult. I also had extensive nerve damage which took over a year to heal. Rehab was especially difficult, both mentally and physically but once again I prevailed and was up and running in no time. The year was 2002 and I had managed to successfully run 5 years of D1 track as a scholarship athlete despite everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is now 2008 and I am training for a marathon. The pain has returned, once again, and I am faced with another bypass surgery and rehab. The graft in my left leg has failed and the graft in my right provides minimal blood supply at best. My surgeon is a good sport and he is still stubborn as ever and told me he will do whatever he can to fix this thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's my PAES story. It's not over yet. I am requesting visitors bearing gifts especially funny cards or letters, episodes of Scrubs, and  egg-free cookies while in the hospital so get your ovens ready!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-975741111137166118?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/975741111137166118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=975741111137166118' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/975741111137166118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/975741111137166118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/brief-history-of-my-world.html' title='A Brief History of My World'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-1814709682763912128</id><published>2008-05-05T00:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T02:39:50.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Solitude</title><content type='html'>Running is a very solitary sport. Sure you can run with a group or join a club but in the end it's all up to you. I think that's what attracted me to running in the first place. I've never been one for team sports. I don't like the idea of doing my best and still losing because of the performance of somebody else. I want the responsibility of winning or losing to fall squarely on my shoulders. I don't want to rely on the work ethic or performance of others. If I put in the work I will see results, regardless of anybody else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some may think of running as a lonely sport. I think it all depends on your mindset and how one makes the distinction between solitude and loneliness. Loneliness brings to mind a variety of thoughts and emotions, mostly negative. When I think of being lonely I think of feeling alone in the universe. An island in a never ending sea or a single blade of grass in a vast back country field. The feeling of loneliness does not necessarily occur when one is alone. I have experienced feeling alone despite being amidst a crowd of people. A strong sense of being disconnected from others, whether real or imagined can be quite disconcerting. Writing about it brings up a panicky pit of emptiness deep in my chest, a silent scream clawing its way to the surface reaching out for somebody, anybody to notice. Being out on the road forces oneself to face this loneliness, even seek it out. There is nobody to comfort you as your footsteps echo on the trail, your breath cries out in the air and your mind wanders its way through its darkest depths. When you are afraid of what you will find at those depths is when running is truly lonely and giving up seems a welcome escape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe running is a solitary sport. Why else would so many people torture themselves day after day, year after year, mile after mile? Solitude is quite different from loneliness. It evokes feelings of empowerment and independence. Solitude is a place where I can recharge my batteries, refuel the passion in my soul, and peacefully reflect on the universe, inward and all around. There is no panic or desperation, only solace and connection. Sometimes, when seeking out loneliness I find solitude instead. This is what keeps me going, what picks up one foot and puts it in front of the other. Call it runner's high or endorphins but I like to describe this serene euphoria as perfect harmony. When you bask in the light of the depths of your soul is when you are truly happy. Not alone, all &lt;em&gt;one&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There comes a point in every run where you are forced to face the mirror of your true self and make a simple choice: give up or press on. Loneliness or solitude. It is here that your character is revealed and it is here that one finds emptiness or peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Press on...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-1814709682763912128?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/1814709682763912128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=1814709682763912128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1814709682763912128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/1814709682763912128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/solitude.html' title='Solitude'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328446257490269502.post-7981460603073441844</id><published>2008-05-04T03:34:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T00:39:45.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Long Journey Ahead</title><content type='html'>OK, so I already started training but I need all the time I can get. You see, I haven't run consistently since college and that was nearly a decade ago. In college I ran sprints and our "long" runs were a mere 20 minutes. My longest races in those days were 5K "training runs" where we had to beat all the distance runners to the 1K mark and then hold on for dear life the rest of the race. Ah, those were the days. Of course I was svelte and in shape back then. The difference now is I &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; I'm svelte and in shape but my body begs to differ. Begs, pleads, stomps, and carries-on...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I mention I'll be taking a "break" from training to have another bypass surgery? Oh yeah, details details. Blech. My original bypass graft has failed and the only way to fix it is to try another bypass. I have the option of running through hell and then having surgery in the fall or getting it over with ASAP and running through hell anyway. The latter please, ala mode. Thankfully, my surgeon knows me well. He asked if the calf pain is something I could live with. "I'm training for a marathon." He laughed, shook his head and said, "of course you are." He operated on me as a college athlete and I was an even worse patient back then. Me and my not wanting to take too many pain meds so I could run a week after surgery AND pass an NCAA drug test! Now I get to relearn to walk AND try to increase my mileage by no more than 10% each week! I do love a good challenge and if anyone can suck it up and get it done it's me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is where my journey begins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wasn't planning on running a marathon any time soon. It was one of those "one day" dream goals with no concrete plan or deadline backing it up. I have my good friend M to thank for turning that dream into a reality. She made a comment that she'd like to do the marathon but really wanted a training partner to help her get ready. I, of course, readily agreed and here I am. Naturally, once the decision was made I instantly conjured up spreadsheets, training schedules, pace charts, and sample workouts. Yeah that's how I roll, organization is my forte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To get us off on the right foot (haha I crack myself up sometimes) M and I entered the Race for Justice 5K on April 13th. I hadn't run all week and had worked the night before and ran a dismal 31.20. M, in her first race &lt;em&gt;ever&lt;/em&gt; ran a speedy 27 minutes leaving me in the dust! Way to go girlfriend! I am happy for my friend but I have the fortunate disposition of being the most competitive person on the planet. This, of course, has the nasty side-effect of perfectionist thinking. I am a perfectionist but my therapist says that perfectionistic thinking is actually a thinking &lt;em&gt;error&lt;/em&gt; so it is not good for me to think of myself as a perfectionist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hrmph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fine, I will grudgingly concede the point that nobody can be perfect. But somebody has to set the standard, agreed? Well that somebody might as well be me. So now I have reframed my perfectionistic thinking into setting the standard. My goal is to set the standard for the perfectly &lt;em&gt;im&lt;/em&gt;perfect way to train for a first marathon as a former sprinter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that 5K I buckled down, laced up, and hit the roads. Yesterday I shaved 3 minutes off my time and am looking forward to another improvement in the next race on Mother's Day. I ran the Melpomene's annual race by the Mississippi River. Once I figure out how, I'll post a picture of me modeling the sweet yellow t-shirt. Perhaps I'll start an album of race t-shirts, I'm sure I'll have quite a collection in no time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As race-day approaches I'll be entering longer and longer events to get my mind back in race-mode. Or at least keep it there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister H, the marathon veteran and distance running superwoman, has also signed up for the marathon. I am looking forward to actually running with her this summer. It seems throughout our lives we have always watched each other run but have yet to actually enjoy the experience together. Maybe we can talk S, the little sister that is big, into running with us and then oh boy watch out! I imagine we'll spend more time laughing than running but runners need strong abs, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for sharing in my journey, I aim to entertain, amuse, and induce random fits of eyeball rolling. Leave a comment, or ten. I take requests.&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1328446257490269502-7981460603073441844?l=stilesruns.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/feeds/7981460603073441844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1328446257490269502&amp;postID=7981460603073441844' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7981460603073441844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1328446257490269502/posts/default/7981460603073441844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilesruns.blogspot.com/2008/05/long-journey-ahead.html' title='The Long Journey Ahead'/><author><name>Stiles</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02516419029206778855</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='21' src='http://bp0.blogger.com/_4IDJuvCepAU/SB3IlB2Z1uI/AAAAAAAAAAM/dgFrLIIsYgU/S220/me2.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
