What Was I Thinking?

Over the weekend, I got it into my head to run the 32nd annual "Four on the Fifth" road race in Chester, Connecticut. Matt and I thought it was a great idea, at first. And then we saw the weather report: heat advisory for the state, 90s all week, humidity, you get the picture. The news showed pics of people headed to the beach, the pool, the cooling centers... Matt wisely expressed doubt, and when I insisted, he admitted his fear that I would collapse of heat stroke.

I figured it would be fine at 10:oo am in the morning. It wasn't supposed to hit 90 until at least 11:00. Foolishly, I didn't really pay close attention to the humidity (which I never really understand anyway), but I did see that the number posted on weather.com was lower than the humidity in Minnesota yesterday, when my friend Robert ran (and finished - kudos, RC!) his first half-marathon. So despite his forewarning that running in this heat was hard, last night I decided to go ahead with it. I ran the Reindeer 5K in 19 degree weather, and I had run 4-5 miles a couple times this year; I could do this. What the hell, right?

What the hell was right. My husband wisely opted out in favor of a trip to the-greatest-ever-pizza-filled Brooklyn. I was sweating before I even started running the first half-mile, which was all in the sun. Then, there was the well-known fact that this road race is difficult: well-known to everyone but me. After the sun-filled first half mile, there was a mile and a half uphill (the elevation map was posted on line...). And, even after hydrating last night and all day, I've had a headache ever since the race finished.

But, Chester is a beautiful little town, which my mom and I had never visited before. On the main street, there are lovely 19th century mill buildings converted to shops and restaurants; a band played for the spectators, and the local coffee shop, The Villager, sold freshly squeezed lemonade and iced hazelnut coffee, my mother's favorite. All along the route, families hooked up their sprinklers and hoses to cool us down when we ran by. Little children cheered us on and held their hands out for high fives. Teenage volunteers passed out water cups every half mile or so. And best of all, I finished, not with the best of times (47:25), but considering it was my longest race so far and I never stopped jogging on those hellish hills, I was satisfied.

I'm here in Connecticut every 4th of July. I thought maybe I could do this every year, thinking that maybe it won't be as hot next year and that Matt and I can train for the hills a little bit, which I should do anyway. But then I met a older man who ran the first 30 of these races; he told me that most years, it's hotter.

I think next time I hear that there's a heat advisory on the way, I'll head for the neighbor's pool instead.

*photo credit: my mom

The Bee

This weekend I made a realistic to-do list, and Matt and I did nearly everything on the list. Even though it was "realistic," the tasks were not small ones.

I had to tutor a student, go to my office for a couple hours, cash checks at the bank, and jog a couple miles. Check, check, check, check. Matt and I cleaned the kitchen, used 1/2 of all the ground cherries from Thorncrest Farms in salsa, and rode 21 miles on the Cannon River Trail. I know, impressive, right?

On top of all that, we followed through on eating one of the three melons we got this week, fixed the screen that our beloved Bernie busted through, and made banana bread cupcakes for 31 teenage boys.

So, when late afternoon came around, and I wanted to take a break, I did. I got myself a beer and a book, and I went outside to sit on our patio. I hooked the dogs up so they could enjoy the weather too --- winter's coming to Minnesota very soon, and we want to hold onto every moment of late summer. Immediately, a bee started hovering around my Corona (probably the lime's fault). Thinking I was smarter than him, I sprayed myself with bug spray and opened my book. Happily, I took a swig of my beer...

... and found myself with the bee in my mouth. He panicked, I'm sure, and stung me inside my upper lip.

So much for a well-deserved rest!

When I posted this as my status update, a friend of mine responded. She and I recently and unexpectedly lost a very good friend, a friend who was well-known for her mishaps. Andrea simply wrote, "that sounds like a Kristen story."

And then I smiled, and I didn't really mind having a swollen lip anymore because I knew Kristen would have just toasted her Corona and enjoyed the moment, mishap and all.

A Quieter August

Everyone knows that I have a hard time staying put and enjoying the calmer times of life. Hence, I travel every break and most of the summer. I love to travel, but I tend to miss the little things about life at home that make "home sweet home" so sweet. I like to buck my mom's advice, but I think she taught me a good lesson this summer.

Sitting in her new glassed-in porch, she said several times, with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, "See how something so simple can be so beautiful. I could be anywhere in the world right now." Sitting out in the lawn chairs in her yard, she looked up in the sky and said, "Look how big and beautiful the sky is here.... a little like how it must be out west." I didn't really think the sky looked that big, but it was beautiful and the weather was perfect (and the wine or coffee was hitting the spot), and, this time anyway, I knew better than to ruin the moment with my sarcasm. After all, it was pretty nice to just sit there and be content.

So, I came home to Faribault with two little more widely opened eyes and tried to find the beauty around our little apartment in Mackall Hall in Southern Minnesota.

We planted tomatoes. We only had two plants, and both were cherry tomatoes, so we didn't have much fruit, but they tasted perfect. Matt's little red ones fared much better than my little bell-shaped yellow ones. Our basil plants and peppers didn't fare as well, but lucky for us, a generous neighbor replaced our teeny basil plants with a three footer!

We also planted wildflowers from seed and waited patiently for some to bloom among the weeds. Nervous to confuse a weed with a wildflower, I let the weeds bloom, too. After the flowers finally opened, I felt a pang of sadness when the turbulent August weather took it's toll.













We explored Minnesota with friends, starting the day at the farmer's market on Lake Street in Minneapolis; armed with a semi-random assortment of tomatillos, beans, chilies, cheese, and eggplants, we headed up to Chisago City. We explored the St. Croix River wineries, picnicked with our morning finds, and shopped in downtown Stillwater. The little book store had a friend of mine's book on display, the candy store was chock full of taffy, turtles, and sour patch kids, and the fancy paper store, Pulp Fashion, gave out free coffee and had a room equipped with a flat screen tv and recliners for the bored companions of shoppers!
Near the end of the summer, as school was gearing up, we carved out a day for the State Fair. A summer in Minnesota just isn't complete without a trip to the fair and a bellyful of snacks-on-a-stick. For me, the fried oreo was a thing of beauty.

And then, of course, there are the dogs. To travel, we had to leave them behind for 5 weeks this past summer and 5 weeks the summer before. It only takes a few days away for me to pine for their company. We spent afternoons at the dog park in Dundas, watching Hideki and Bernie lead the pack as they leap through the grass.

And so I realized that my mother is right. There's beauty even here at Mackall Hall in Faribault, Minnesota, and it's time I slowed down to take a look.

Northfield, Minnesota

Over the hills and through the woods (through one really evil speed trap, past one haunted house adorned with an abandoned school bus, and beyond the home with clydesdales), there is a town that has helped ease our transition from Cambridge to Faribault.

Northfield has two cool colleges (Carleton and St. Olaf), a Taco Bell (Matt's ambrosia), a Target (as Jennifer used to say, Tar-jay) and a Caribou, which already makes it a wee bit more cosmopolitan than Faribault. But that isn't really what makes it great. This is the home of Malt-O-Meal, an industry that innocently makes the entire town smell of cookies. This is the town whose motto is "Cows, Colleges, and Contentment."

Here's what makes it great:

Chapati's... especially Chicken Korma. Having Indian food so close when you live in what feels like the middle of nowhere is pretty special. It's not the same as Cafe of India, but that's okay. Chapati's is located in this old, red & white, historic hotel, The Archer House, with a huge white porch, where I can just see a Henry James novel happening if only this wasn't Minnesota.

Jesse James... Do you know that Jesse James tore through Northfield, hoping to get rich off the First National Bank in 1876? Too bad for him that the tough local Minnesotans stopped the raid! In honor of Jesse James (hmm, or maybe those brave locals), we celebrate Jesse James Days each September. I ran my first 5K to celebrate.

Paul Wellstone... Wellstone taught here in Northfield at Carleton College for over twenty years before he became senator and later died in a plane crash. Minnesota is the strangest state in terms of politics (e.g., lots of pro-life billboards, a wrestler for governor once, a comedian running for Senate) but the work done in Wellstone's memory is pretty nice to have going on here. Wellstone!

Window shopping, or not... Northfield has everything I need. The Rare Pair, where I can stock up on Merrells and Privos. Digs, my favorite (oh, and Matt's too), where you can buy fabric and yarn and buttons and dish towels and eco-friendly cleaning products, where I found my Stitchin' Vixen shirt that I adore, where I can buy sushi themed stationary, and where I found a very special Dracula for a very important person. Of course there's antiques on every block - perfect for my mom to spend an afternoon.

Books... There's an independent bookstore, River City Books, whose owner loves David Brent as much as I do, and there's a used bookstore, Monkey See Monkey Read, where I recently found a 1937 Collier's World Atlas and Gazetteer for only 10 dollars!

Coffee & Cookies... How can a place called Quality Bakery and Coffee Shop not be great? I recommend the cookies. For coffee (and rice crispy treats reminiscent of the cafe at Wesleyan), it's Goodbye Blue Monday. I don't know if they are referencing Vonnegut or New Order or the simple fact that Mondays suck and would be even worse without coffee. Who cares. My favorite thing about Goodbye Blue Monday is that even when I am 30 seconds away from being late to my therapist's office, I can still order a latte and be on time for my appointment across the street. I think there is simply a difference between my car's clock and the office clock, but I like to think of it as a little Northfield magic realism.

Dog Park... need I say more? When is the rest of the world going to catch on to this?

So, even when I complain, even as I look out on 5 fresh inches of snow, even when my skin hurts from the cold, even when I miss my family and my friends, even when I long to walk the streets of Cambridge or eat sushi in JP, even when I want to swim in the ocean, it isn't that bad here after all.

Maybe next time I'll tell you why Faribault itself isn't that bad....