life and running

This morning I ran 7 miles, longer than I've gone since the marathon. I knew I could do it, as long as I didn't glance at my GPS every 10 minutes or tell myself I couldn't do it. I wanted that feeling, that exhileration that comes with pushing yourself a bit too far, making the goal, running the distance you set for yourself.
I admit it's probably a bit crazy. Still, it works for me.

If running is just physical, I'd rather just ride horses or skateboard. It's not. It's about setting the goals and making them and that moment right afterwards, when you just feel wonderful, physically, mentally, spiritually. It's one fine moment.

So, on my run today, I saw Benny and Kristina from the marathon team. Benny was running and Kristina yelled at me through the gates of the dog park. I saw David, my homeless friend who almost jumped when I ran up to him and patted him on the shoulder and ran off. He's one of the guys I consider a friend who I look for each week who has a big heart and bigger challenges, he's finding his way, and I love hearing him tell me about it

In my own life, this particular part of it, in general, is a bit stressy. I'm dealing with some transitions. Big ones. My roommmate and companion of 18 years, my daughter, Annalise, is graduating and preparing to leave home. In between now and then there are parties, recitals, ceremonies, orientations. There are other things going on too , changes, transitions, hard ones. Such is life.

Life is one long series of transitions, and somehow in all of that, there is a cycle, a looping, a coming back to where you started that makes it all make sense. The letting go, especially.

back to work

so...back to work.
JOB is getting quite a lot of interest. It's exciting for our film, a product of love and savvy business, to get some interest from people in the business. That's all I can say about that right now.

Making a film is so much work and so much money and scrambling? Why do people do it?
Simply put, they just have to. There's a story they have to tell. So, they tell it. People keep asking me if we've "sold" the film yet. It's an active process, it's not one single step and yeah, we're working on it and we feel good about the possibilities.

When we decided to making jumping off bridges, we decided the whole process should be our way. Our way involves two simple guidelines that superseded anything else:
1. We only work with nice people.
2. We stick to our values.

We certainly looked at the commercial value of the film, and we looked at the revenue potential and our business plan was lauded and reviewed by some amazing business minds. We decided to go for a small market, the arthouse audience, the audience that doesn't mind being treated intelligently. The ones that like stories that stick with them awhile. We wanted to tell a story that we feel good about telling. That usually means a harder film to sell and we did the math and decided it was still something worthwhile to do, financially. We could pay for our film and we could get it out there and we could make it. It just doesn't get any better than that.

I guess we're just too sensible to spend all summer and fall working on a film that we don't care about. It's hard enough to work on something that is commercially an easy sell, but doesn't have your heart in it. We aren't capable of that. (I mean, we could do it, we could farm ourselves out to other projects and be kick ass crew, but for our own, very own film, it's just not enough.)

We want the people who worked on our film to love it as much as we did and to be proud they worked on it and want to come back and work on the next one. We want people to see something special after they spend their rental fee or pay their cable bill, something we made just for them, something truthful and honest and flawed.

Our plan is hatching.

file under: jumping off bridges

the best dog story...

file under: dogs

Hard core in my little striped mittens...

Okay, so after my post about trail running, I got a couple of comments about how I'm hard core because I fall down a lot and then get back up and run.
With this picture I offer those new to running a quick, visual, "what not to wear" lesson.
I do pay more attention to running fashion than I did when this picture was taken, but please remember it was 28 degrees and sleeting and this was probably mile 6 of the 26.2 I ran that day.
And note that Nevie, who was running next to me, ALWAYS looks better dressed than anyone else in any room she's in.

file under: running

healthy and busy

I've been over the cold for awhile, now. I've been under a pile of paperwork. Tax preparation to be exact, along with copies of JOB and padded envelopes and letters I'm writing.
It's a daily struggle me and the paper.

It's been a good week, I ran three times, did the workshop with Kat, showed the dogumentary to a very appreciate crowd, and I'd sent off many copies of jumping, followed up on leads, even talked to a distribution company who loves the film.

Today, I needed somethign different. So, today, Sunday, I took my boyfriend up on his idea for a trail run. It's something I'd been wanting to do. Running on the paved road, the well trod track is fine, it's nice and smooth and predictable. I had been hankering for trail work, dodging rocks and little hills. I wanted the challenge of a new path.

We set off in the afternon, after sleeping in, drinking coffee, reading the paper, talking to the neighbors, Sunday things.

We ran 2 miles out, dodging big rocks and big dogs, bikers and hikers and sliding through the little gates that mark trails on the green belt. It was fun, I'm sure my face was red, and I know I was smiling. On the way back, I felt even better than on the way out. Steve walked after three miles, he's on a training schedule and he doesn't like to deviate. I kept on running. Right back down the path, noticing the same rocks, the same stretches of sunny spots followed by shady, winding lusher parts. I got back to the roughest spot, a spot that required a little more managing, a little more technical trail mastery, or as I like to call it, really rough terrain.

I maneuvered up the rocks and around them and back down, just fine, and on the other side, got a little feeling of worry, then I prepared myself for what I knew was inevitable. I went down, slid across a rock and landed almost on my head. I got back up. Just a few scratches and bruises. I ran on, blood trickling from my elbow and my right knee. I passed people who looked a little worried, but so be it, no time to explain. I ran on and I felt light of foot again, like that kid who used to try to keep up with her brother most of my childhood. I slid a few more times, I didn't fall.

I have fallen three times now during runs. Always I've known it was going to happen just before it happened. (Only one time did I have to be driven home.) As I'm falling I always wonder who's watching me and what they are thinking. I like to think they think I'm tough and cool, but it really doesn't matter. I'm sure I'll fall again. I do that. I think it's because I'm slightly lopsided and irregular, which really just makes me cooler.

Light of foot, until I fall, then up and off again.
I may make this an every weekend thing.

file under: running