health – #poetsthatsweat

FAFO or GTFO (or something)

Let’s dig into some race recaps and what is to come.

Froggy Hollow 5 & 9

I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race.

Ok enough of Stephen King or Lorrie Moore (pick your favorite) mimicry! I had a stellar race – kept a steady pace over the 5 hours, never really experienced a low. The key: my thoughts were mostly turned off. I focused on getting through the aid station loop in under a minute.

Hashawha Hills 50K

I was not well in the lead-up to the race. Hi, sinus troubles. Before starting, I knew I’d probably DNF. I talked with my partner about it making sense to even start. The outcome still stung. Dropping out brought up feelings for me about not wanting to be weak. I could endure years of endometriosis pain, I couldn’t stay on the trail a little longer? I moped for about 24 hours, then moved on with my life.

However! The race course was gorgeous farmland and tucked away woods off 97. I’m excited for a chance to try it again in the future, during a race, or for a random run.

What’s Next?

I am running a Backyard?! Of course I’ve felt a rollercoaster of emotions going into my first. How do you even feel like you’ve prepared? What mileage even makes sense? Am I strong / stupid enough? We’re all going into the unknown – so is anyone really prepared? No. It’s organized chaos, and in my positive moments, I lean into the curiosity. Running friends and strangers on the internet have all been generous in giving advice.

My goals are to focus on my own race & pace while enjoying the camaraderie of running with the same group on the hour, every hour. Plus, we run through TANK ALLEY. Should I be Tank Girl? Furiosa?

I am Furiosa. Which is appropriate, because the race is fundraising for Girls on the Run. If you’re inclined, please donate here. Safety for women & girls of all identities continues to hold them back from running, movement.

Speaking of rage – it is endometriosis awareness month. I have been symptom free since my hysterectomy / oophorectomy / excision almost four years ago, but I will continue to scream this important information that I am quoting from the experts at Indigo Physiotherapy: “Today, excision surgery of the endometrial tissue is considered the gold standard for treatment. In addition to excision surgery, there are a variety of treatment options that you can explore that range from hormonal treatment to pelvic floor therapy.”

There is no definitive cure for endometriosis. The lesions often exist outside the uterus (mine did!), so a hysterectomy is not a cure. I chose to have mine removed because of the monthly blood loss, chronic back pain, disinterest (perhaps hostility even?) towards a pregnancy of my own. I live in a liminal space of “not cured”, but symptom free.

I’m thinking about all of this now, because while racing an ultra, I am a “no brains, just vibes” gal. Not quite meditation, I protect my energy. Nothing will stop a run like hyperventilating due to emotions. I’m so grateful I can continue to FAFO in athletics, & afraid of losing the ability again.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

· Behind You Is the Sea by Susan Muaddi Darraj

· The Quarry by Joellen Carter

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

Feel Good Story Of The Year

I thought I’d have this done sooner, but life, then illness and moving, slowed me down. So! Here’s a little recap of 2023 through some superlatives, as I think about being worse in 2024. You read that correctly. At the end of last year, I read a meme that said, “I’m gonna be worse.” I read it as leaning into yourself, embracing your idiosyncrasies. Where I want to be.

I Will Endure Paperwork To Travel

I hate paperwork. I get anxiety any time I think about filing my taxes, which happens to be daily as TurboTax harasses my email account. Getting my passport updated was a comedy of errors as I got ready to visit friends in Estonia. I could not find a CVS nearby that had a working photo printer, I’d go to a Post Office and their internet would be down…finally, I had my updated passport in hand so I could leave the country for the first time. I faced the anxiety of traveling alone (with a connecting flight in Amsterdam!) head on. Or at least, I decided to just do it. I’m so glad my friends opened their place to me so I could explore such a unique place. Estonia has seen so much change, yet preserved its history.

Best Worst Race Description

Eagleton Trail Challenge was described as “runnable.” No. I would still recommend the race for the beauty of the terrain changes and fun aide stations. At almost 6,000 feet of vert, almost two miles crisscrossing mossy rocks over a stream, a final climb at mile 29 so steep that a rope was along the trail to assist your climb, I spent around half the race walking. Another Faster Bastard and I happened to be signed up for our first 50ks, so we spent the almost 9 hours together. I could not have done it without her.

Most Colorful Day: Flower Mart

Sure, the spring equinox is in March, but have you ever gone to the Flower Mart in Mount Vernon? Usually the first weekend in May, the sun emerges from gray April wind and rain. I had a lemon squeeze with a good friend and her family, we bought herbs for our gardens—a pastoral kind of day in the middle of Baltimore.

Favorite Song To Repeat Over And Over

According to Spotify, I listened to “Worms” by Ashnikko 218 times. That doesn’t include the countless hours I was on trails, headphone-less, chanting in my head play my life like a video game / I don’t mind I’m driving through flames. Find me a better song for trotting along that sees the humor in futility! Check out all of Ashnikko’s music for her humor, spite, but also, vulnerability. Her creative persona is not afraid to feel deeply.

Most Out-Of-Body While Performing Experience

In September, I read as part of a fundraiser for The Lights Went Out Because There Was a Problem. I read a selection of older work. My soul left my body as I read. The words did turn blue in my mouth—they didn’t feel like me. Writing this four months later, I have been exploring new ways to conceptualize older work. I still love the poems, but I am not the same artist. How good to grow!

Realization Of The Year

My health wasn’t the focus for others. I was able to be there for people I love who had their own health-scare moments. As I continue to sit in a liminal space between healthy and sick (I can run ultramarathons! I catch viruses at the drop of a hat! Why won’t my thyroid relax?!), I felt relief to not be the focus.

Favorite Decision Of The Year

Buying a house outside of Gettysburg with my love!! Some things I want to hold close to the chest. I am grateful for our life.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Places I’ve Taken My Body: Essays by Molly McCully Brown
Nice Nose by Buck Downs
Hunger Makes Me a Modern Girl by Carrie Brownstein

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

This is just to say grief is hard

Many people I care about are struggling right now, and I am too. Time moves differently with grief. I check the clock often to understand when I am. Yes, when.

Grief has brought feelings of not being enough. I’ve learned over the years (and therapy, please, therapy is the best) this not enough is a vague malaise—there isn’t a specific thing I think I need to do more. I’m getting down on myself without anything concrete, mostly grasping for something to hold. There have been some very wonderful things happening this month, so the grief sneaks in as I simultaneously feel joy.

I’ll keep on running into the new year. In the trees, in the sun, in the rain—I am moving and free and nearly outside of my skin. Specifically, there are 2023 races I’m thinking about. I’m not even sure what my goals are for each race, other than learn something about myself and go long. I’m working to get enough protein and stretch while I work through the grief this way. I don’t need to be injured and sad.

This is just to say, I often write about not wanting to be vulnerable. Sick is not fragile. When I reflect on the past year, I’m not actively sick anymore. I can plan trips and give hard efforts on run and not be flattened for days or weeks. This is still new, and I’m very grateful (again) for therapy and working through this.

Grief is somehow collective and personal. The grief from the loss of a wonderful person will keep coming in waves, but there is still all this future to reach for. They would appreciate all of us keeping up the fuck around & find out attitude.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Please make me pretty, I don’t want to die by Tawanda Mulalu
Minor Feelings by Cathy Park Hong

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

No brains, just vibes

I would like to be unremarkable. I received the results from an endoscopy this summer, and the results were unremarkable, which medically speaking, is the best news I can expect.

I say it’s the best news, but no results can be just as unsettling. Am I feeling the way I am because this is what mid-30s feels like? Is there something we haven’t tested for that will rear its ugly head? I talked about this for awhile with a friend recently. When you have medical history, it can be hard to trust the first read of results. Then, I talked about this with one of my doctors and we decided that we’ll stick with routine bloodwork, probably do another endoscopy in a year or two, and then I’ll be old enough for a colonoscopy. We laughed! It wasn’t patronizing, that’s my relationship with her at this point. She also sincerely reminded me that coming down from all the chronic pain and inflammation that comes with endometriosis takes time.

As you can see, I still grapple with anxiety that comes with chronic illness. There is some reality: I know future chronic illness is statistically more likely after an endometriosis diagnosis. Researchers are investigating why this could be.

There is also another reality: I was racing 50 minutes 10ks, 25 minute 5ks when I was physically suffering from endometriosis. Numbers are used as a benchmarks of health. At least when you’re an athlete and know what you are capable of, it’s hard to keep seeing yourself fall short. (Check out the Maintenance Phase podcast to learn how numbers and more can be used insidiously.)

Still—racing can say volumes about what your body is ready for. How different things are from the WebMD video. I ran the Baltimore Running Festival Pandora 10k earlier this month, finally taking down a 10k PR from 2012. I have been trying to tackle this PR for years, throwing myself at it randomly. Not a great plan.

When I ran up to Druid Hill Park and down to the Inner Harbor this month…I let go. To be cliché, I finally managed to get out of my own way. How different my energy is when approaching running these days: no brains, just vibes since going to therapy. Running brings me much joy and serotonin, but I don’t rely on running in the same way I did in my 20s to define my worth. Or even how I wrote about my identity in athletics since starting this blog. Despite being exhilarated about finally cracking a PR, all it really did was create an excuse for free shots with friends because the waitress trusted when they said she won her age group.

Approaching workouts with a no brains, just vibes energy has made them infinitely more relaxed. I’ve been chanting The Applicant by Sylvia Plath in my head (Now your head, excuse me, is empty. / I have the ticket for that.) while listening to my Ashnikko, Panic at the Disco, and Janelle Monáe mix. To be clear, the mix is called Gay & Tired, which maybe one day I’ll get into more, but for now, just know I was the red corvette from “Becky’s So Hot” at the last Version dance party.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Into Every Generation a Slayer Is Born: How Buffy Staked Our Hearts by Evan Ross Katz
I’m So Fine: A List of Famous Men & What I Had On by Khadijah Queen

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

With Pizzazz

Define me in some glitter if I crash. I have a little more pizzazz in my step after an iron infusion, so why not quote Akintoye?

While I was waiting on multiple rounds of bloodwork—literally, I feel like a vampire’s pet over here—I sent in a question about iron to Fuel for the Sole. Meghann Featherstone shared some excellent nutrition advice. However, when you find out you have an autoimmune blood disorder, trends that need a little more than nutrition tweaks come into focus.

I read the bloodwork results on a Friday and spent the weekend panic googling, as one does even when they know they shouldn’t. After talking with my doctor early the next week, I have a better understanding of where I am now: B12 lozenges because my body doesn’t absorb it through my bloodstream as it should (hence the iron dropping as well), and a GI doctor visit scheduled for the end of July. This isn’t my first chronic illness rodeo. I have the hardest time before I have action items. Once I know what I need to do, I’m generally ready to adjust.

Like I mentioned, before these results, I had another iron infusion. My hematologist was keeping close watch on my iron for the past year. After a significant drop in less than 2 months and the other symptoms I was experiencing, he decided it was time for another infusion (I had two in April 2020, before my latest excision and hysterectomy). It was a long year, but it makes sense that we couldn’t rush a treatment. I also appreciated that he didn’t throw iron pills at me—they can be hard on your GI system (something we were sensitive about for me), and as it turns out, my body has trouble with absorption anyway.

While I’m waiting for my GI specialist appointment, I’ve been thinking about interactions with doctors old and new. Cramped Style Blog was posting in her stories about this recently. It’s bizarre to be going over your medical history, bloodwork, all things pointing to chronic illness—then hearing a doctor say you’re in perfect health. Bitch, I’m not here because I’m bored. Are you not looking at the list of symptoms that I painstakingly documented for you to better diagnose me?

Like many folks in the chronic illness community, variations of but you don’t looks sick send me into a rage. I would prefer not to have a rolodex of specialists. As I’ve gotten older, I do try to understand the possible why after the first wave of anger, so I can explain to the doctor how dismissive the language is. Is it thin privilege? Doctors often react this way if you have a BMI under 25 (which is trash science btw). They can’t fathom how you could be ill if it’s not because of your weight. Or is it because if you’re an active person, they can’t fathom how you can train for half marathons, attempt to enjoy your life, while in significant chronic pain? My philosophy is that if I’m going to be in pain, I might as well be having some fun. Or as John Steinbeck recounts in Travels with Charley, “If it’s rotting you want, you can do it any place.”

Since you made it to here, I’ll do some flash recaps of races over the past few months:

BRRC PrettyBoy Trail Race (May 15)
So fun!!! It was mostly on fire roads, so the course was pretty speedy until the last mile uphill. I booped my toe pretty significantly before the race, but thought nothing of it. I took my shoes off after the race and saw how swollen and purple and angry it was. A trip to urgent care confirmed it wasn’t broken, but my toe does not look normal 2 months later. Oh well! I had the best time out there, wearing my Adidas Terrex Speed Ultra. I picked them up in January after reading the Believe in the Run review, and I love love love them. They are light-weight, yet I do not feel the rocks under my feet. They are pink and teal, though mine are covered in mud and I’m too lazy to clean them. 10/10 from my wide feet.

DC Frontrunners Pride 5k (June 10)
This was a first run back after a week of being quite ill with (not?) covid to kick off Pride Month. I was running it with some of my favorite library gays and my girlfriend, so the only goal was to have fun. I accidentally rubbed against someone at packet pickup and was immediately covered in glitter for the evening. 10/10 will be back every year, and will try and stay awake for the evening dance party next time.

Arbutus Firecracker 10k (July 4)
This is the first race I’ve enjoyed the effects of the late May iron infusion. Now I know that during the horrific B&A Trail Race that the vibes were bad inside my body. So! After a spring/early summer of consistent trail running, and my body adequately carrying oxygen, I ate those hills for breakfast. I felt so strong on the hot and hilly course, and closed the last .2 downhill with pizazz. I was only 20 seconds off my old has heck 10k PR. I’m not sure if that says I am stronger on challenging courses, or if a big breakthrough is finally coming. I’ll keep running up that hill to find out.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Black Boy Smile by D. Watkins
Girlhood by Melissa Febos
The Octopus Museum by Brenda Shaughnessy

In between runs, go support your local abortion fund. The organizations have been preparing for years. To quote the indominatable Sherrilyn Ifill, “Remember that we have never seen the America we’ve been fighting for. So no need to be nostalgic. Right on the other side of this unraveling is opportunity. If we keep fighting no matter what, take care of ourselves & each other, stay strategic & principled, & use all our power.”

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

Not To Be Dramatic

Have you ever been so sure you’ve done something, that when you come to the realization you did not do it, your world rattles?

I had planned a long weekend in Philadelphia with my favorite communities: writers and runners. AWP was back, and Sunday the Love Run had a celebratory half marathon through the city. Everything I could dream of, right?

The first few days in Philadelphia filled my soul: connecting with new and old writer friends, finally experiencing the punk-rock Tirefire Reading series, writing in the garden of the Rodin museum.

Things started to fall apart at packet pickup Friday afternoon. I was so excited to show my girlfriend the running community, to show her the ridiculous things we do to get hyped. As I tried to locate my bib number, my name was not showing up. So weird, I thought. It must be a glitch, I thought.

Then I considered—I was receiving promotional emails, but did I get a bib number reminder email? As the realization washed over me, I searched my email receipts for registration. I generally register when it first opens (can’t miss those discounts), so it had to be there. Right? It wasn’t. I ask Athlete Information if they have registration today. Nope. It completely closed on Wednesday.

Fighting tears in the convention center hallway (is it even a writing conference if you don’t cry in the convention center?), I’m panic texting my coach and another run friend. What should I do? What are the options? Extremely stubborn, I didn’t want to miss out on a race weekend I prepared for. We find that the B&A Trail Half Marathon still has spots. I text the AWP 2 Hype 2 House 2 Queer chat that I’m leaving that night. I get home, try to calm down and relax with my cats. I’m prepared physically, why should a little stress derail me? I started infusing humor as fast as I could, texting my coach, I should have opened this with I’ve made a huge mistake.

Not to brag or be dramatic, but the half marathon was the worst I have ever felt in a race. Perhaps because of the stress of the previous 48 hours, perhaps because I’ve been struggling with my ferritin and thyroid levels, perhaps because imbalances from years of chronic pain decided to flare in my back—everything was NOT GOOD.

The race didn’t begin that way. I started cruising around 7:45 pace. I was going for it, knowing all my workouts and long runs indicated this would be an easy start to push from there. My plan was to start pushing to bring it down to the 7:30s after the first third. I took my first gel around mile 4.5 and said bye to my friend, she was folding a workout into the race.

I wasn’t feeling bouncy or fresh, but I still felt like I could hold strong for the second half as I approached the turnaround. From years as a swimmer and past races, I knew I didn’t have to feel perfect to be able to dig deep. Around mile 8, my body started to rebel in all the ways: nausea, tightness in my back to the point that I could not drive my legs. All in all, NOT GOOD. Still, I know these things can pass.

I took my last gel around mile 8.5. I gave myself another pep talk. One bad mile wasn’t going to stop me. As I continued, things got worse. Total body pain. Nausea. Heaving. Why couldn’t I at least vomit and get it over with? That’s when I started to panic. The last time I felt this terrible in a race, it was before my first surgery in 2018. This was not a time to relive medical trauma! I turned up my music, asked Ashnikko to give me strength.

I was either slowing down to heave as I ran, or I was stopping to heave along the side of the B&A Trail. With only a few miles to go, I passed some of the Faster Bastards cheering. I told myself to dig deep and felt a surge of adrenaline as I passed them. I can salvage this, I thought.

Shortly after I was off the trail again. They jogged by and asked if I was okay. I said, no, but I’m going to finish. I heave-run-walked my way to the finish, keeping it together enough to cheer on runners passing me, to say hi to people I have only interacted with online.

My final time was around an 8:30 pace, despite some 10 minute miles in there. While I am frustrated, I am so proud of this consistent training block. I stayed mentally strong in workouts. I felt relaxed in long runs. Despite dabbling in running for over a decade, I keep reminding myself that I haven’t truly been able to consistently run until being cleared for sport in August 2020 after my hysterectomy and second excision surgery. I’ve finally had a chance to build. After some rest, I’ll spend the spring and summer finding new limits on the roads and trails with the community. This is a hobby I love, even when it sucks. There are going to be challenging races along the way. Yesterday, I loved seeing friends reach their goals, knowing I will be in that place again.

A note because the pandemic isn’t over: I took a rapid test last night, I’ll take one later in the week, and I’ll wear my mask if there are places I must go.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Other Girls to Burn by Caroline Crew
Unprotected by Billy Porter
My Life as a Villainess by Laura Lippman

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.”

Sylvia Plath has been swirling my head since writing group. An essay I brought to workshop was giving off Mad Girl’s Love Song vibes, and I am okay with that. I finally choked out some literary prose about chronic illness. I am a mad girl.

Speaking of choking—I didn’t post a blog last month, nor did I submit writing. Both are monthly goals I set for myself. However, those goals are to hold me accountable to consistent writing and revising. Instead of submitting, I spent a weekend in West Virginia, heavily revising and dumping out a few thousand words of the first draft of the above mentioned essay that made it to workshop. The piece finally feels like a breakthrough in prose writing.

I am better at seeing the process steps in writing. It’s like the memes that go around running Instagram—the bits of the iceberg you don’t see before the success. I can say I’m happy with a few thousand words in January. I also excavated a ton of old writing for a revision of my full-length poetry manuscript.

After I run, it’s like I immediately forget everything I’ve accomplished. A little over a week ago, I had a killer workout with my coach in relatively difficult conditions—20 degrees and wind. I ran 2 x 12 minutes comfortably faster than goal half marathon pace within a twelve mile run. Two days later, I was writing panicked recaps in my training log about how tired I was. Of course I was tired. I had a big workout and my body was recovering.

This week, we preemptively planned a day off after a moderate effort at the Baltimore Road Runner’s Club Cupid’s Crush. It was absolute joy through Druid Hill Park. I find joy in sprinting up hills—it must be the dopamine. I highly recommend runners in the DMV area put BRRC races on their calendar. Everyone from other runners to race volunteers encouraged each other in the small race.

Bright morning light reflected on patches of melting ice as we powered up and down the hills. We whispered you got this to each other as our lungs fought. I’ve missed these intimate gatherings. I’m signed up for the BRRC Super Bowl Trail Race this Sunday—maybe I’ll get my act together and post a timely race recap of my first trail race.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Sylvia Plath Sylvia Plath Sylvia Plath Sylvia Plath

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

Ten Things I’ve Learned in 2021

I frequently think of a line from Leigh Stein’s collection, DISPATCH FROM THE FUTURE: Life is only too short if you’re having a good time. I want it to feel short, I want to feel a bit breathless and excited.

A good friend and I collaged this week. We were reflecting and planning after a big year leaving our past jobs for new opportunities. I felt compelled to memorialize my meandering thoughts in blog format. They’re a mix of running, creativity, chronic illness—you know, my life.

1. I have missed collaging. Through workshops with Cinder Hypki and making more cards this year, I plan to bring the practice back more frequently in 2022.

2. People will let you down. It’s not your obligation to change them.

3. I like books that can be frustrating. Well, I already knew this, but it was very clear when I read the new Sally Rooney. I kept wanting to scream go to therapy!!

4. I love racing for the comradery, but I am perfectly happy exploring running routes with no races to come.

5. I can paint a house in color.

6. A chronic illness is forever, but it’s not my full identity. I’m still working through this. Now that I’m not in daily pain, I’ve been learning how to manage my symptoms and set boundaries that prevent flare-ups.

7. I can make big changes, even if I can’t project exactly how they will change the future.

8. Calendar invitations are my love language. Send three dates and times, then let’s pick one. I can’t stand the back and forth of “I’m free whenever!” You’re not. I’m not. It’s stressful. Plus, as we’re still in a pandemic, I like to have my social time planned out so I am factoring in time between seeing people.

9. I would like to never feel obligated to sit in a loud bar again. My brain can’t process the background noise and focus on a conversation. Let’s sit outside forever. It’s beautiful anyway.

10. I process through lists and that is just fine. My favorite poems are in lists. Maybe everything is a poem.

Books I’m thinking about/recently read:

Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney
In the Belly of the Mirror by Tafisha Edwards
Dispatch from the Future by Leigh Stein

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

I’ll Remove the Cause

I have a half-finished draft about the races I ran over the past two months and grappling with disability as Covid boosters have limited availability—but I have not been able to finish it. If I’ve learned anything from getting an MFA, visiting authors, and participating in workshops, the block means I should flex my creativity in another way and return to the piece later. Perhaps it belongs in a longer form, pitched and submitted for payment. Anyway, call me if you are a literary agent.

Instead, I’ll write about my pandemic hobby: watching horror films. Even though I once wrote in a poem that I watch documentaries instead of horror films, I have always had a soft spot for them. Horror isn’t an escape. Horror is fear at the front of the brain. The dream where you know you are dreaming, but your consciousness is stuck in quicksand.

Or maybe it’s because of memory. My mom and I watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer from the start together as I grew up. I have a special tradition with some friends to pick a horror film the night before a memorial 5k. Whatever the cause, even when I’m uncomfortable, I’m generally comforted by the genre.

In no particular order, I listed all the horror films I have watched since March 2020. Some have annotations, if I was moved to do so. I’m always looking for more, especially filling in the queer cannon, so please recommend any in the comments. Friends and the Internet “best of” lists helped build this.

Us (2019): OH MY GOD. AND THEN THE DANCING WITH THE STARS DANCE THIS YEAR?
Cursed (2004)
Teeth (2007)
Ginger Snaps (2000): This had the vibes I wanted Teeth to have.
Parasite (2019): Horror and commentary perfection.
The Hills Have Eyes (2006)
The Neon Demon (2016)
Prom Night (2008)
We Summon the Darkness (2020)
Jennifer’s Body (2009): How did no one sit me down to watch this before???
Nightbreed (1990)
The Evil Dead (1981): Practical effects freak me out more than CGI.
Hellraiser (1987): See above.
Lyle (2014)
Old (2021)
The Covenant (2006)
Sorry to Bother You (2018): Hulu told me it was horror! Isn’t any movie about capitalism?
Martin (1977)
Raw (2016): I don’t do gore. This wasn’t even that gory, but wowowow the intensity nearly had me hurling. I still loved the pacing of the film. It’s one of those “where is the horror in this” type of film.
The Babysitter (2017): I dug the camp.
The Blackcoat’s Daughter (2015)
Zombieland: Double Tap (2019)
The Invitation (2015)
The Strangers (2008): I will literally talk to anyone about why this film was a shift in the horror genre.
Girl on the Third Floor (2019): I wanted to see a professional wrestler star in a horror film.
Black Christmas (2019): Way better than I expected!
Promising Young Woman (2020): I couldn’t watch a movie for weeks after this. It’s everything I wanted from a revenge film. Carmen Maria Machado wrote about it perfectly in How “Promising Young Woman” Refigures the Rape-Revenge Movie.

Books I’m thinking about/recently read:
–The Glass Hotel, Emily St. John Mandel (this would be a great atmospheric, slightly spooky film)

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

What’s your fantasy?

One of the few things that got me through Wednesday’s workout was fantasizing that I was Molly Seidel in the Olympic marathon. However, I was nowhere near her pace as I jammed out to Ludacris. I was a sight to see. Shoes squishing, wet shorts flapping, and neither from rain. Couldn’t it at least start raining for some relief?

My one year anniversary of back to running happened this week. Other than excitedly texting my coach, I gave it little fanfare. Well, I guess writing about it on the blog is some fanfare.

Pushing through the weather was a test of mindset change. I adjusted my goals and carried on. I checked in with my body—was I feeling faint? No. Was anything hurting? No. Keep going. The workout was not be speedy, but it was work on my feet. My coach reminded me to use the humidity and heat pace chart next time, but I did not dwell on pace in a training cycle where I’ve had so many on point runs. I 100% contribute this to the hysterectomy. Sure, I didn’t test positive for adenomyosis, but something was real fucked up in there. For anyone new to this blog, I had maybe 1 week a month that I wasn’t in crippling pain due to endometriosis and potentially adenomyosis. I quote a common refrain in the endometriosis community: We’re not faking being sick. We’re faking being well.

Since restarting seed cycling in earnest again a few months ago, I didn’t even notice mood swings this luteal phase. I’ve also learned so much about hydration and fueling from the Fuel for the Sole podcast by Believe in the Run with Meghann Featherstun. I started learning about nutrition in earnest from Caitlin Self in 2018. She taught me so much about inflammation and chronic conditions. Now, I’m at a place with limited symptoms, therefore can think more about small tweaks that can substantially improve my running.

All of these things—being able to focus on small bits of health, being very at peace with being uterless—come from the mindset change that exhibited in this week’s workout. In such an uncertain, traumatic year (let me count the ways), I am preparing myself for fall race cancellations. It’s not pessimistic to be realistic. The delta variant is raging. I’m mentally prepared to test my training cycle in a time trial and to pivot to more trail time.

My fantasy would not only to have fall races, but for everyone to get the vaccine. While we wait for those vaccinations to kick in, I dream that people would wear their masks because they care about their community.

Books I’m thinking about/recently read:

Postcolonial Love Poem, Natalie Diaz
Spirit Run, Noé Álvarez

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.