I have some logistics figured out, but many I still have to plan. I am getting really excited about seeing people who I haven’t in long time!

Love,
Dana

Sipping on my coffee here in the mid afternoon sunshine, I wonder if living here would actually kill me. August through November wasn’t so bad, at least not three years ago when I settled into my double studio apartment across from Hayward field. It was bittersweet to say the least. Like a child contently playing at dusk, I wasn’t ready to come inside yet and settle down. After weeks spent running and exploring the eastern Oregon wilderness, law school felt like a lead weight attached to my ankle, relentlessly pulling me down. I fell in love with Eugene the spring before. After a relapse of plantar resulted in a disappointing track season my senior year, I felt like I needed another shot at collegiate distance running. Whatever I was out to prove, I was still chasing.

And so as the acceptance letters arrived, it came down to Colorado or Oregon. On one hand there was in-state tuition, and all the comforts of home with friends and family nearby, mountains, skiing, and everything else familiar. On the other hand there was something new and exciting about Eugene. It had a presence and energy that appealed to me, both as a runner and a citizen. And Dave was in Oregon. That didn’t make my decision, but it made my decision easier. Watching the monarchs flutter on the petunias now I understand why I’m still in the great Northwest. I admit, though, that I still feel very much like a mountain girl playing at city life. Maybe after ten years I’ll start to consider myself an Oregonian, instead of an outsider or a transplant. Still, every time I pull out my Colorado driver’s license I feel a sheepish sense of comfort.

We all have days that are burned into our memory- that for one reason or another we can’t let go of, even if forgetting was for the best. This was one of those times. October light was breaking through the blinds as usual that morning when I turned toward the clock to open my eyes. I hated Mondays even more then. They meant a long drive down I-5 to make it to Civil Procedure on time. There is nothing particularly bright about the overcast days that fill the months from fall to spring, but if you’ve lived here long enough, you begin to squint nonetheless. The window faced another building, another set of blinds looking back. I lay there heavy, unable to collect my thoughts, for once not knowing how to push everything back into place. Finally without meaning to, I opened my mouth, “I’m not going back.”

There was no argument. I had no idea what I wanted- but I didn’t want to be miserable. There are a thousand reasons why I told myself I didn’t belong there. But ultimately when you are unhappy, it doesn’t matter. As an endurance athlete, you are taught to persist through pain, pushing your body farther than it wants to go on its own. The first twenty-two years of my life had been based on the practice of putting mind over matter, delayed gratification, and perfectionism. I still feel that it was the single, most powerful decision I have ever made. And I’ve been dealing with it on many levels ever since.

Recently in a bookstore, skimming through Dr. Drew’s book, I came across a passage where he describes the difference between high school girls and boys. Boys, he says have nothing to present at that age, they have no idea who they are yet. In these formative years relationships are difficult because the boy is trying to attract a girl, but really doesn’t have a firm grip on what he is looking for because he has much to learn about himself. Girls, on the other hand, have it all together as seniors in high school, it is only later when they begin to lose themselves. Reading this passage I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Human experience really isn’t so different. This hit the nail on the head for me. And yet, we feel completely isolated in our own problems. No one really talks about this, not enough. Before my 18th birthday, I was never wrong about anything. And yet, I have managed to lose myself after high school, twice.

The first time was my freshman year in college. At first all I wanted was anonymity. I wanted a chance to start over and not be the kid that all the other parents want their kids to be more like. After living in a small town where everyone read about my accomplishments in the local paper, I started to feel like I lived under a magnifying glass. The heat was exhausting, but I dealt with it because I knew there was a looming expiration date to it all- a light at the end of the tunnel. Junior Olympics came and went, with two gold medals and a record to take home. My father drove to Seattle from a business meeting in Montana to watch the finals. In both races I crossed the line and ran into his arms. We both cried and I knew that in a couple weeks, we would be back in the Northwest for college, and that next time he would go home without me.

The transition from child to student to adult is supposed to be seamless. As long as you follow the path that is. I started to realize that this was the main reason I was in law school, because it seemed like a logical next step. I had no real passion for it, no good answer for the question that everyone always asks. What are you going to do next? Any graduate will tell you how tiresome it is to be on the receiving end of this query. I didn’t know. I wanted to run, I wanted to play in the mountains, to be a kid in the summer, and that was about it. College was fun and exciting and exhausting. I wanted a break, and I thought that maybe I could reconnect with myself again a little better after taking a step back. There were so many great memories, but much of it I was ready to leave in the past. I was ready to move again.

Last Sunday, after running 3 times in two weeks- Ian decides that he should run to bank and deposit a check. Being 34 degrees (and snowing!) and not really wanting to run by myself, I beg to go too. The hitch in the plan is that since we moved in June, our joint account is housed at a bank about 8 miles away. No big deal. I must have been well rested or something, because I surprised myself a little being able to make it back so quickly.

The rest of the day, consequently, all we managed was to walk to coffee (Ian hates coffee, but drinks chai), play on the computer, and fix dinner. Not a bad Sunday really…. and I wish I could say that life was generally more exciting than that, but not having many free days together in a few months…. I LOVE those times.

I think the light- or lack of light- is getting to me. The mornings are SO dark… and then by 3:00 I start thinking it is getting late. Last night we actually ate dinner at 5:00….!

Anyways- last week we saw “What would Jesus Buy” at the Mission. It was definitely disturbing on many levels. In fact, I don’t know which was more disturbing: the disgusting state of the typical over-extended American consumer; the advertising culture that we subject our children to and the greedy monsters they become; the way we equate money with love; or the struggling band of misfits that is the “Church of Stop Shopping.”

I will give Rev. Billy credit for one thing: I wouldn’t be surprised if Mickey Mouse did turn out to be the Anti-Christ.

Better get to the gym. cheers.

Sometimes it seems like I spend an inordinate amount of time and energy food shopping and reading ingredient lists and nutrition facts. Not that this is anything particularly new- I was raised to be a label reader, but since discovering the gluten intolerance, I’ve developed an even stricter criteria for what qualifies as cleanliness. When I stop to think about the hours I spend searching for clean ingredients, it does make me wonder how my time could be better put to use. Do you ever jump for joy when you find the words “gluten free” ACTUALLY printed on the container? I do! Not that this is a sure fire fix, but it does make it much easier.

The fact is that wheat products, soy, or dairy derivatives are added to everything now.
Basically these are the criteria that I use:

1. Gluten Free
2. Egg Free
3. Dairy Free
4. Soy Free
5. No Transfat (hydrogenated oils)
6. No HFC (high-fructose corn syrup)

It definitely helps to have stores like Trader Joes and Whole Foods who, at least, don’t carry products with HFC or transfat. I’ll stop venting now. I’m sure that it will only get better in the future as demand fuels the market.

Peace.

Tuesday afternoon I headed to Vancouver and picked up a 10 lb bag of custom-mixed gluten-free flour from Mike and Marie at Bavarian Mills. More on them later, but they are absolutely amazing! I am excited to start on some recipes with it. They are a walking encyclopedia of celiac knowledge and baking expertise. I hardly noticed that two hours flew by while we were talking in their facility!

So after another ingredient voyage yesterday, I’ll be ready to do some serious volume this weekend. Just need to narrow it down still to a few recipes. Something to work on for Friday when I’m stuck on the hill for 10 hours.

Better lace up…. it is still so dark! Seems like fall here this month already.