Notes from the Red Bird House

I don't know where to start. Originally, I was going to begin by discussing the three books I'm reading. Seriously. Yes, the Begrudging Reader (that's me) is actually reading multiple books. At once. One is a 'real' book; the others are electronic (which, let me tell you, greatly reduces the amount of crap I schlep around on a daily basis). Two were recommended by friends (more on this in a moment) and one is a light-hearted-easily-read-at-the-gym-lesbian-romance-minus-the-usual-erotica-that-seems-to-come-standard-in-lesbian-romances that I chose myself. In my reader days - late high school and college - I usually read more than one book at a time so that I'm reprising that now isn't as surprising to me as it might be to others. I get bored easily and if I want to keep reading (rather than mindlessly watching TV), I need a second and even a third book. In this case, there's a little more to it than that. You see...and this is where it gets slightly emb

I knew it was a poor decision when I pulled it out of the drawer. My usual running sports bra was MIA and not wanting to waste valuable time searching for it, I went with Plan B. Ok, actually Plan C. Plan B tends to chafe when I wear it running (It's awesome for tennis and gym workouts), so even though the particular sports bra is Plan C for a reason and I knew it probably wouldn't go smoothly, I went with it. In my early morning, not-quite-caffeinated-enough logic, the fact that Plan B would definitely chafe and Plan C might chafe decided me. If you've ever hopped in the shower after a long run with raw skin along your bra line and turned to face the water, you understand. Imagine a thin line of essentially road rash and hot water. I promise you'll want to come out of the rest of your skin when the water hits. Sadly, it's either deal with the pain or not shower. Yes, there are products that are designed to prevent chafing, but I'm old school and cheap. Plus my

"Find a thought that serves you better." ~ Deena Kastor I went to Iceland last month to run a half marathon. As I sat in my hotel room the morning of the race, I kicked myself. I'd left the book at home. I travel light. If it isn't going to have a daily impact, it stays home. Period. The book, a hardback copy of "Let Your Mind Run", was bulky and heavy and more than I wanted to schlep from Austin to Minneapolis to Reykjavik. This was all fine and dandy in theory and for the first eight days of my trip. But that morning - the morning I'd spent a long, hot Central Texas summer training for - was upon me, just less than two hours away. I was in a good frame of mind. I'd tapered for a few days and done a fairly easy 10k running tour the day before (If you run and end up in Reykjavik, you gotta check out Go! Running Tours Reykjavik and ask for Fridrick). My legs felt surprisingly decent considering I'd walked and ran over 30,000 steps the day bef