Taking PTO
The thing I won’t forget is the sand in the bed. We were in Maui, just north of a beach town called Lahaina, in a one-bedroom condo that we’d rented for five days. There was a window air conditioner that sputtered above the bed. There were clean white sheets, a white blanket, and sand. Mike and I collapsed into bed after being on the beach one day, and normally, sand in the bed would irk me beyond reason. But we were on vacation. This wasn’t our bed. I didn’t give a damn about the sand and I certainly didn’t give a damn about cranking the air conditioner all night.
Read full storyFlyover States: A Poem
I took a few different writing workshops in college, and the culmination of each workshop was assembling a short chapbook of poems. Each time I did this, I saw new patterns emerge, from poetry that examined my eating disorder, explored ideas of family, or investigated romantic relationships. Each short collection tells a story, and in a deeper way, gives me a bit of a looking glass into my mental and emotional state at a given point in time. I self-published a book of poetry in 2020, and ever since, I've been slowly but surely collecting a new set of poems that will be ready for the world whenever they're good and ready. You can't rush things like this.
Read full storyNegotiating Household Labor
Sometimes, I read articles or see videos about household labor and the gender split; how women are now not only working, but often becoming breadwinners and still shouldering the bulk of household work. This is a fact, proven both anecdotally but more importantly, through plenty of research.
Read full storyA Rich Family History
"Mammograms should be called mammygrams," I thought to myself as I sat in the waiting room at the Providence Women's Health Center. I put my appointment in my calendar as just that, mammygram, before realizing the loaded connotation of the word mammy and quickly editing myself. The word "mammy" is used to mean "mother" in Whales and Ireland, but we are not in Whales or Ireland. A mammy in America is a stereotyped black woman who worked for a white family and probably raised their children. In defense of my errant thought process, the Women's Health Center was exceedingly motherly, filled with older women who kindly instructed me to fill out this form, wait here, undress here, remove your underarm antiperspirant, wait here again.
Read full storyPost-Run Recovery
I'm sitting in an oversized armchair with a fire quietly burning behind me, watching a dense fog roll over the hillside and settle among the tall, towering pines. I'm sitting here, resting. We just ate a big dinner, and I'm nursing a large bottle of water. I recently increased my weekly mileage, and with the added load on my body, rest and recovery are more important than ever.
Read full storyThe Power of Repetition
Three to five times each week, I run up a trail called the Laguna Bowl. It starts on the inland edge of the 133 leading into Laguna Beach, right next to the tennis courts and the Pageant of the Masters. The Bowl is nearly two miles long and climbs nearly 1,000 feet. Once I get to the top, there are a dozen different routes I could take. If I wanted to, I could run a 50k from my back door and not repeat myself.
Read full storyEmbracing Monday Mornings
The first thing I saw Monday morning was a giant water bug in the kitchen sink. My cat was circling my feet, begging for another helping of breakfast, and I was on my way to give it to him. Like Ricky Gervais said, you can't spoil a cat.
Read full storyMaking the Case for Solo Runs
The first time I climbed a mountain, I had only been a resident of California for a few weeks. I went with my ex-boyfriend, our flatlander quads burning as we strained our way up 4,000 feet. The peak was hard-earned and glorious. The next day, our legs ached and we marveled at how the mountain challenged us in a new way. We were both former Division 1 runners; we knew pain, we just weren't yet familiar with mountain pain.
Read full storyMy Favorite Things to do in Laguna Beach
Southern California is a sprawling metropolis of freeways and strip malls with mountains, desert, and the ocean tearing at its edges. This place was built for cars and runs on Botox and unnamable drugs. Among the ordinary people keeping this place afloat, there plenty of the self-obsessed and halfway famous. For all the glitz and glamor, there is just as much poverty here as anywhere else in the U.S. Just as much political division, just as much consternation. Except here, we can watch the sunset over the pacific ocean at night, whether we're watching from a multi-million dollar home or from a van parked on the beach. Sometimes, friends or colleagues will mention, off-handedly, that I live in L.A. To an outsider, Southern California can look and feel the same. I've never lived in Los Angeles proper, and have never even visited most of its neighborhoods. When I go to L.A., I may as well be a tourist from another state; a visitor with one-day, prepaid parking and a sincere desire to not stay.
Read full storyOvercoming Writer's Block
Sometimes I really, really hate this blog. Not because I don't like writing, but because all I write about is what I know, and I don't know much. Some days, I can honestly say I know nothing. I know that using a bit of white vinegar in a load of sweaty laundry can help your clothes smell better. And I know that one should not drive a car in a bike lane, or merge without using a turn signal. I know that sunscreen is important and that the ice caps are melting and that every day, millions of people drag themselves out of bed without the slightest clue as to what they're doing or why.
Read full storyMy Dunn St. Croix Scholar Athlete Speech
I was invited to give a speech to the student-athletes from the conference I went to high school in. The speech is below-enjoy!. Thanks for having me. It's really good to be back home, I grew up outside of Colfax and it wasn't so long ago that I was sitting in a room like this, listening to someone like me talk about who knows what.
Read full storyTrail Running Gear Check
What do you wear when you run?" a total of one person has asked me, ever. Most of the time, my requirements aren't that strict. A good bra, comfortable shoes, shorts that don't cause chaffing, and lots of mineral sunscreen. But I thought I'd do a little roundup of my favorite gear, because it has taken me a handful of years to find what works best. You can thank me later, or never, whatever feels good in your chest.
Read full storyWhat is Happening?
Mike booked us a couples massage the other night, at a fancy, over-priced spa in South Laguna Beach. Everything in Laguna costs more than it should; from parking spots to gelato to homes to food to foot rubs. We requested "deep pressure;" the kind of pressure that makes you audibly sigh and involuntarily twitch. I wanted my muscles to be wrung out like a damp cloth. "Deep tissue is an upcharge," the masseuse told me. "Alright, well just firm then," I said, unwilling to let Mike pay an additional $30 for whatever the difference between "deep" and "firm" is.
Read full storyPTSD & Relationships
I've written about this before, but after one particularly long and negative relationship ended, I sought the help of a psychologist. I wanted to understand what was wrong with me (turns out, a lot) and how to avoid having another bad relationship. To be prescribed psychotherapeutic intervention, I first needed to meet with a psychiatrist who asked me not only about my relationship, but about my eating disorder, work environment, home life, and more. It was an interpersonal interrogation, which I highly recommend. Toward the end of our session, she gave me a questionnaire with twenty statements I was to either "agree" or "disagree" with. She stood near a window as I sat and circled my answers. When I handed it back to her, I had circled "agree" 18 times, and she looked me in the eyes and said, "Do you understand that you may have been in an emotionally abusive relationship?"
Read full storyQuick Fixes & Consistency
"This could change your life," said a man on the phone, who called me trying to sell me some sort of sales enablement tool that promised to find me new business leads who were searching for exactly the thing I am trying to sell. I didn't fault him for his overpromises. We've all overpromised something, sometime.
Read full storyThe Dichotomy of Good & Evil
On a recent flight that was delayed many hours, I sat staring out the window listening to a series of downloaded podcasts by Jordan Peterson. He manages to seem sure of himself while also contemplative; certainty mixed with a sense of possibly changing his mind. His is an appealing temperament, whether or not you agree with him.
Read full storyPlanes, Pains, & Automobiles
The woman at the check in desk at the Hyatt Regency in downtown Sacramento was wearing a mask. She wasn't the only person I saw in Sacramento still wearing a mask; the woman at the Grocery Outlet who fingered no less than a dozen oranges before finally settling on one. The couple in the burger joint next door, who sat outside, fully masked, as they waited for their roasted edamame and kombucha beer. One of my Uber drivers, a bellhop, the girl sitting next to me on the flight, a lady on the treadmill in the hotel gym. I felt as if I'd stepped back time say, a year or three, when the whole world was masked and mad about it.
Read full storyAncestry Kits & St. Patrick's Day
Are you Irish? said the man on the other end of the phone when he heard my last name. "McMahon," I had told him. "With two n's?" he asked. "No, like Ed McMahon," I answer, "M-c-M-a-h-o-n."
Read full storyForehead Wrinkles & Living in the Moment
My forehead feels wrinkled from frowning into my computer screen too much. If people were not so demanding, I would not have to frown as much, and my forehead would not get so wrinkly. I wonder if men ever worry about their foreheads wrinkling, or if they even notice. Probably, forehead wrinkles make men seem thoughtful and distinguished. My lightly wrinkled forehead reminds me both of a bulldog puppy and Babagesh.
Read full storyEating Disorders, Adolescence, & Overcoming Bullies
“Sarah,” my teacher drones, not looking up from his attendance sheet. I numbly chirp, “here,” and continue staring out the window. I’m wearing jeans and my boyfriend’s hooded sweatshirt. My boyfriend goes to a different school, nearly an hour’s drive away, so I’m only able to see him on weekends. I enjoy the space between us, as well as the social capital that having a boyfriend grants me. In adolescence, the hallmark of a cool girl was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that smelled of Axe body spray and teenaged boy sweat.
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