leaning in

Ah, the quintessential Southern California sunset.

A few weeks ago, Dane & I decided to have a little happy hour in Venice Beach at a place called the Waterfront Cafe. The cafe's patio sits right on the boardwalk, across from the ocean. Great for both the ocean views and the people watching (Venice has to be the USA's premiere people watching location).  Also, the Waterfront Cafe has the most amazing giant hot pretzels served with homemade sweet mustard. I couldn't even snap a photo because we gobbled it up so quickly.

I've been reading the popular book Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg recently (she's the COO of Facebook and also worked at Google and for the US Treasury). I wasn't so sure about it at first--as an Anthropology major, I had extensively studied the topic of gender roles in multiple areas of the world, and the idea that girls and boys are raised differently and accept societal roles differently didn't seem groundbreaking to me-- but I'm about halfway through now and can say that she definitely has some great observations about pursuing a career as a woman. My workplace is having a mini-bookclub to discuss Lean In after we're all finished reading it, and I'm excited to share all of my opinions and hear others opinions.

If you think that this book is only applicable to the woman pursing a career in business or technology, I would say that you are dead wrong. I am already applying her lessons not only in my "day job" workplace, but also in my creative career. In fact (although I'm only halfway through Sheryl's book), I'd say that her writing is a great asset to a creative career since the "entry level" of this type of work is basically considered "trying to be a _____".  Although I have performed in many professional plays, I am still seen as "trying to be an actor" unless I continue to work my way up (or around, and Sheryl suggests). We have to lean in and find new ways to grow or our career seemingly doesn't exist.

It seems like everyone is reading the book anyway, but I would say that picking up a copy from the library or bookstore is a good idea, especially if you're a twenty-something like me trying to piece together a career path.

I don't think Lean In was on my mind during this gorgeous sunset, but I'm sure I'll be applying its lessons to both of my careers.

my memory is foggy

One of the perks of living in LA should be the proximity to the beach. So, on a day off when I finally have nothing pressing to do, of course I'm going to ask my beau to come to the beach with me. Especially when it's 86 and sunny, right?

Well, it was 86 and sunny at our place. And about ten blocks from the beach. But about eight blocks away, a thick fog had meandered in on an otherwise perfect day. Not the sunny, jump-in-the-water-to-escape-the-heat conditions I was hoping for.

But we stayed, because it wasn't crowded and the fog made the scenery quite beautiful. I felt like I was in a pastel painting of a shipwreck.

That's the farthest I would go into the icy water.

Luckily, the sky started to clear at around 3:30 and we had a good hour of hot, sweet sunshine to cap off our visit. But I can take plenty of pictures of a sunny beach-- the fog is a rarity!

P.S.--I loved that our fellow beach bum was reading Stephen Hawking (the black book in the bottom left had corner)!

the poem's the thing

If you never stopped by my good friend Lauren's poetry blog bahnheur, I highly suggest it. I am working on a little project for her this morning, and was reminded of how amazing talented she is-- her writing is so lyrical and hearty. Give it a read some time.

view obscura

Last weekend we took a hike at Temescal Gateway Park and realized: Never go hiking in a popular place in the late morning on a weekend. The trails were a little more crowded than I would have liked (isn't the point of hiking to get away from the hectic-ness of the city?) and, to top it off, my camera battery died less than halfway into our hike. There was also fog hiding the ocean view that I was craving.

But enough of my whining--I'll share the photos I did capture in that first half hour or so. I really love this hike, so I'm sure I'll be back (it's actually pretty close to our home--just up Sunset Blvd.) so I can show you the real view and other pretty parts.

 The fog may have obscured our view of the ocean, but we could still see the multimillion dollar mansions of Pacific Palisades.

I hope you're having a wonderful weekend!

I am runner, hear me roar

Like many of you, I have been processing the bombing of the Boston Marathon for the past few days.  I've been watching the news, seeing the inspirational quotes, and reading Patton Oswalt's Facebook Note. I've been disgusted by whomever would carry out such a cowardly act, and uplifted by those rushing to help others.

Before a few years ago, I never considered myself a runner. I ran track for two years in high school and competed in my small town's sprint triathlon (mostly for the swimming, though), but never would I have signed up for a race or gone on a run just for fun or exercise. Then, the summer after I graduated from college, my friend Molly asked me to do the Chicago Half Marathon with her. I reluctantly agreed. I had all summer to train, so I printed out my Hal Higdon beginner's level training program and followed it diligently. I didn't skip a single training run for fear that I would not finish or, even worse, be picked up by the "sag wagon" that mandates the slowest pace allowed. I woke up early before my Shakespeare Festival classes and rehearsals and ran through South Bend, IN, past the river and the sewage plant.

And I discovered that I loved it.

I ran the race that September and immediately vowed to sign up again next year. After the next year, I decided to set my sights higher and take on the Chicago Marathon in 2011.

I signed up for a charity team that I was passionate about and raised money. I joined the Chicago Area Runner's Association (CARA) and did my long runs with them on Saturday mornings at 6:30 am, essentially surrendering my Friday night social life. As my "short runs" worked up to eight miles, I stuck to a protein-rich diet and drank so. much. water. I dedicated those two months to training and stretching and reaching my goal of completing the 26.2 miles that awaited me in October.

I remember everything about the day I ran the Chicago Marathon, which ended up being one of the most emotional days of my life. I remember the warm weather that soon turned hot and nearly unbearable during a stretch of newly paved blacktop. I remember the bodies walking and hunched over at the side of the road as the miles stretched into the 20's. I remember where the male runners would peel off the course to use the secluded bushes as their bathroom.

But mostly, I remember the spectators. I cried my way through the first mile as I was simply overwhelmed by the number of people cheering for everyone and anyone. There were so many witty signs, high fivers, and cowbells. Lots of people called out my charity name (plastered on the front of my singlet) as I passed. Some people would just yell something like, "Way to go sweatband!" or "You've got this, purple shorts!" My parents came to Chicago to watch the race, and I got to see them and my boyfriend at around mile 3.5 and 23 (I ended up beating them to mile 13!), holding their sign and camera and screaming for me. The route took me past the bar where I worked at the time, and a line of my coworkers screamed for me and gave me high fives at mile 10. Every time I saw someone I knew, I got a huge burst of energy that told my body that I could definitely accomplish this feat. I don't think I could have finished the marathon (at least, in the time I did) without the crowd support pushing me to make my training count.

So, thank you to everyone who has traveled to watch me in a race, whether it's down the street or across the state. Thank you for encouraging me to accomplish what I thought was undoable only months before. Thank you to anyone who has ever cheered for a stranger, who has ever called someone by their bib number or shirt color--trust me, we do notice and love it. Thank you to all of the runners who have trained with me or commiserated with me.

Please don't stop coming. Because I'm not going to stop running.