When passions collide

Although I work in software, which I love, my heart is with education and mind and legs are with running. Recently I started volunteering with Girls on the Run and it’s the perfect morphing of the two. Girls on the Run is a non-profit organization aimed at helping young girls ages 8-13 learn a sense of community, health, and motivation through running.

While I’d like to be a coach, I can’t because the timing (software isn’t conducive to coaching at 3:20pm) so I am working instead with “Team Tiara” – very sorority, I know. Team Tiara is the fundraising wing that works towards getting “Team Tiara” members (people who donate to be a “tiara” wearer) and gaining bigger donations.

I’ve never been good at asking people for money or donations but this ask is much easier. In the past week I’ve reached out to local running stores and organizations and gained some pretty cool discount ops and mixer offers. The thinking in garnering discounts is it’s always easier to donate when you get something back (besides the warm fuzzy you get knowing you’re helping someone). In this case, “tiara” wearers get rad discounts and social meetups.

Now if only I could figure out how to add international travel to this mix of running and helping.

Old with history in historical

Last night we made it to the Legion of Honor and enjoyed something old, surrounded by history, in a historic setting.

Something old: What's Up Doc
The Legion is running a series of movies that took place in or around San Francisco and What's Up Doc is a classic. I've never seen a Streisand movie but, despite myself, I was laughing the entire time.

History: Women Impressionists
Right now the Legion is showing Women Impressionists: Berthe Morisot, Mary Cassatt, Eva Gonzales, and Marie Bracquemond. Not my favorite genre of art, but a nice snapshot in history. I do like the press release around the show, though - namely: "In a day when a woman leads the House of Representatives and another campaigns for President of the United States, it might be hard to imagine a time when the work of four women painters was marginalized because of strict social rules and the artists' gender. For many decades, the four artists celebrated in Women Impressionists: Berthe Morisot, Mary Cassatt, Eva Gonzales, Marie Bracquemond, were treated with critical ambivalence and lacked major public exhibitions..." Looks like these girls got a bit of a neener neener now.

The exhibit features art circa 1874 when brush strokes were robust, colors bold, and natural light played up. Kudos to the women painting modern life ... someday maybe I'll have a more in-tune eye/mind/heart for this type of art.

Historic setting: the museum
The Legion was built to commemorate Californian soldiers who dies in WWI and is a "Beaux-arts" building. Sitting in Lincoln Park, you couldn't ask for a better view for a museum (even though when visiting a museum it's typically to see what's inside). One great piece of note when walking into the Legion is Rodin's Thinker - I mean really, how many photos are there of DBs around the world posing in the Tinker pose trying to be hip? And yes, i admit, I have a few photos like that myself.

Train wreck

Everyday when I walk home, there are a few funny characters; most notably, two women in their 70s who wear bouffant wigs and plaid jackets and stand 2-3 blocks apart asking for money (yesterday I saw them walking arm in arm - sisters?) Then there's the corner sitter in front of La Parilla - a man who sits with his legs straight out into the sidewalk so you have to step over him while he's asking for change. Yesterday he was cross legged which was nice as there was more room to weave around trouists BUT his pants were pulled all the way down to his knees. And it looked like he didn't get enough change to buy manties (man panties - or any kind of unders really). Ew.

13.1 no sun but fun run!

Sunday I got up at the awful hour of 4am to get ready, pick up Linz, and drive up to Napa for the Napa to Sonoma half marathon. It was funny driving through the city at that hour - there were hardly any people on the road and those who were ambling around were likely coming home from the night before.

We made it to Sonoma at 5:45 (after a stop for gas and a hunt for coffee) and got on the race bus to the start line in Napa. It was FREEZING waiting at the start. Shivers aside, it was still fun. I love the start line of races - there's a feeling of anxiety that always comes before a race (can I finish? Will I PR? Etc.) and there's also always a feeling of community. Something about runners - there seems to be an unspoken unity. Maybe it's the fact that we all have nasty feet, or hurt knees occasionally. Whatever it is, I love it.

The noteable few:

• There was a 72 year old running who runs half marathons every year - he looked like he was 50 - a great inspiration!


• One man was in the 100 club - he had run over 100 marathons. That's a lot of miles.


• A woman was doing her first ever half marathon - she started running to lose weight and made it through a few 5ks, then got hooked, lost the weight, and kept going.

Linz and I finished in decent time and it felt great. At the finish line was wine tasting but we just couldn't bring ourselves to quench our runners thirst with Pinot before noon.

Next half - Healdsburg - can't wait!

Summer

When I was a kid I went to three summer camps:

• Camp Unique – a day camp in Marin for sports


• Indian Princes – a politically incorrect named camp for fathers and daughters to bond over archery


• 4H camp – for aggies (I raised chickens … yes, in Marin) where kids get to shoot riffles
  

I had a bittersweet relationship with camp. I hated overnight camps – something about my bed, my house, my family – maybe it’s the only child thing. “Mine.” On the flip side, I loved getting to eat junk food, getting dirty and not having to wash my hands, and getting to stay up past 8pm to do something other than watch Murder She Wrote (a Wilson household favorite).

Last weekend we enjoyed summer camp grownup style – 40+ of us made our way to Russian River to Burkes Canoe Trips campground. While there was no truth or dare, swapping salt for sugar, or panties in the freezer, there were scary stories, outdoor activities, and a plethora of salty, sugary, meaty, fatty food.

Can’t wait until “camp” next year.

San francisco underbelly - my life on the deeb list

I stayed home today and enjoyed the life of a SF deeb. For lunch I ambled out of our apt and over to Fillmore where I sat with the rest of the workweek deebers in the Grove sipping coffee. My book (still Walden) sat on the corner of the table illustrating my depth. Next to the book I managed to balance my persona with the Economist and Us Weekly. The Blackberry was of course predominant - a precursory showing that I am a professional.

I must admit, I love the deeb life. I mixed chatting with a few partners (the BDDB work for the afternoon) with eavesdropping on sitting neighbors.

Here's who I think dwells these jaunts on weekdays:

- tourists (maybe, if they managed to get a tour book not directing them to the money pit that's union square)

- dog walkers

- stock brokers

- real estate agents (they have lots of time on their hands)

- Biz Dev peeps

- retail workers

No history in this entry - unless you count this as a sociological note on our generation. Deebgen.

P.s. "Deeb" equals douche bag - a term lovingly coined by my matty.

A weepy history

Today I visited the Mark Hopkins for a site visit for our company’s user conference. The hotel is awesome – a bit old fashioned, but you can’t pick a better place.

At the end of the site visit, the saleswoman did a brilliant move saying, “can you join me for a drink?” Well, I didn’t want to turn the poor girl down so of course I obliged making it up to the Top of the Mark. Upon reaching the Top, we ran into an events saleswoman and another hotel salesman (what a coincidence). Cheese plate and salami plate aside, a great history lesson/story was told thus continuing my recanting the stories of my love affair – San Francisco.

In the Top of the Mark there’s a window facing the Bay Bridge that used to be called the weeping window. This window was where loved ones went to wave a final farewell to their loves as they set off to sea for WWII.

On a happier/funnier note, the window has always been the site of countless engagements – thus causing tears (mostly of joy I’m sure). Apparently, when they renovated the hotel they put in new windows. When they went to remove the old windows they found scratch marks all along the bottom – these were not the marks of loves clawing for their lost, but the marks of women checking to make sure their diamonds were real after a proposal. Just picture it: “Will you marry me?” “One moment please…” (screeetch! = cut in the glass) “Yes!” (screeetch! = nothing but window vibration) “You know, I’m just not ready yet.”

Coit Tower

In an attempt to be more culturally friendly to my favorite city (and take a break from pointing out all the isms), I’ll delve into the sites and sounds I enjoy on my way to work a bit more. The first (and tallest I can see on the way in) is Coit Tower.

A few years ago, Linz, Zack, and I were hiking around Telegraph Hill and we came upon an artist painting the cityscape. We stopped and chatted with him for a bit and he told us his story of Coit Tower. His version was that of love.

According to the artist, years ago, a well born (aka, really friggin rich) woman named Lillie Hitchcock became the first female fire fighter. Eventually Lillie fell in love with someone her family disapproved of. Broken hearted she moved to Europe where she mended her torn self with a new love – another man who her family didn’t adore. This love, though, Mr. Coit, was quite well off and she didn’t need to worry about her families wealth (or really their willing of it) because they could live comfortably on his fortune. After marrying and leading a very happy life together, Mr. Coit passed, and Lillie moved back to the city (because SF was all that could mend her heart). Once back, her family took her back bequeathing their wealth to her thus exponentially expanding her bank account. Eventually Lillie too passed and didn’t have any children to leave her wealth to, so she left it to the city. When she left it she said “make something beautiful in my late husband’s honor.” After her death, they erected (heh, considering the shape … how infantile – get your mind back to the story) Coit Tower. Oddly enough, the tower today looks like a fire hose a happy coincidence considering her history making feat.

I love this story. Unfortunately, accordingly to Wikipedia, it’s far from true.

The picture is, needless to say, not picture perfect. It is, however, what I see on my way to work which is why I love walking.

Music makes you

We all know that music can incite different moods or emotions (or magnify current moods/emotions). Some can make you to get up and dance (for me it’s Tiny Dancer – think what you will). Others (Tori Amos) push you to sit in a dark room and cry (which is when you change the channel).

Some music renders a feeling of bad ass-ness. I feel like I can crush beer cans and bench 180 listening to Red Hot Chili Peppers or White Stripes.

Walking home from the gym tonight listening to Manu Cha I felt like I had a giant beautiful Latina rear. Alas, no, the music made me lose myself for a minute and I realized I was walking banana backed (looking utterly ridiculous).

I wonder what music is going through the heads of the folks in the T-Loin? The soundtrack to Yo Gabba Gabba or Nine Inch Nails?

Facebook hurt my feelings

The technology age continues to expand and provide venues for the big brothers of the world. I’m of course buying into all the venues with Facebook, Linkein, Spoke, and of course blogging (an online diary/forum for bitching, if you will).

Back to Facebook. Today I got a “hug gift” from Lily which was just peachey since I had been reading Walden earlier and needed a little fuzzy mention. I happily accepted my hug and was immediately re-routed to a window that said: “pass hugs on – select five people now” – under the booger looking hug icons was a blinking message that read, “8 people in your network have a crush on you.” Rad, I thought, and scrolled further. Another blinking message, “two people hate (red underline) you, and one person loves you. Find out who!” Well of course I clicked – I wanted to find out who hates me so I could say mean things to them. Re-routed again to a window asking my name, sign, sex, and phone number. On this screen there was fine print reading, “fill in the details and
we’ll send you flirting advice and add $9.99 to your monthly mobile bill. Auto renew.”

Good marketing – made me click- but meanies!

Facebook hurt my feelings

The technology age continues to expand and provide venues for the big brothers of the world. I’m of course buying into all the venues with Facebook, Linkein, Spoke, and of course blogging (an online diary/forum for bitching, if you will).

Back to Facebook. Today I got a “hug gift” from Lily which was just peachey since I had been reading Walden earlier and needed a little fuzzy mention. I happily accepted my hug and was immediately re-routed to a window that said: “pass hugs on – select five people now” – under the booger looking hug icons was a blinking message that read, “8 people in your network have a crush on you.” Rad, I thought, and scrolled further. Another blinking message, “two people hate (red underline) you, and one person loves you. Find out who!” Well of course I clicked – I wanted to find out who hates me so I could say mean things to them. Re-routed again to a window asking my name, sign, sex, and phone number. On this screen there was fine print reading, “fill in the details and
we’ll send you flirting advice and add $9.99 to your monthly mobile bill. Auto renew.”

Good marketing – made me click- but meanies!

Race Day Roundup

I was a bit nervous for the Angel Island 16k because I hadn't raced in a while. Yesterday I drove to Tiburon and made my way on the ferry to Angel Island with GGRC. There were about 300 runners which was shocking - I had thought (and secretly been hoping) the numbers would have dwindled from later night 4th of July celebrators (my ploy for placing - racing in a low attendance race, but no - the crowds came).

The trail was awesome. Hard, but awesome. We ran the perimeter of the island twice getting to enjoy the scenery as we went.

I placed 2nd woman and 12th overall coming in at 1:21 (8:05 miles). The first place woman was amazing - she actually had gotten lost and added a few miles and still won! She was running at 5:20s - phenomenal.

Validation

In life everyone accepts validation in different forms (I say “accept” because people give and acknowledge validation differently). Matt says I run races because the finish line provides instant validation (I ran, I accomplished, I finished …)

In the city I get the joy of seeing folks striving for validation in different ways every day. There’s the badge lady in my building who won’t let anyone in unless they have their badge. Even though she knows us all. There’s the coffee shop guy who won’t let you near the cream and sugar table until he knows the cream and sugar are stocked. Tonight, we’re enjoying the entertainment of the traffic police monitoring the 4th of July festivities.

Matt and I live just South of Aquatic Park and are watching the 4th marry-makers head down to the water to drink, watch fireworks, and be marry (aka, loud and drunk). Looking over Lombard, the traffic police keep changing their decision in directing traffic; “no-one may turn left on Lombard. Period, that’s it.” “Everyone must turn left on Lombard – what do you think you’re doing?!” “Don’t go up the hill.” “You can’t come down the hill.”

I think they’re riding a traffic power wave that will last until the traffic subsides and they’re brunting the cuss words and fingers of drivers by. I hope they feel validated … It’s time to shine and boss and shine and boss they are.

The dog house

On top of the sites, people, restaurants, and shopping, one thing I absolutely love about San Francisco is the sounds. Living off Lombard we can always hear the comforting honking or F word flying from the passers by.

Car sounds aside, the thing I'm loving best right now are the dog sounds. Every time we hear an ambulance or fire engine drive by (which is increasing in frequency depressingly enough) all the dogs on the street howl to the rhythm of the siren. There's something kind of serene about the roaring - despite the fact that there's some emergency going on somewhere, dogs are entertaining themselves singing to the cities sounds.