Everybody's got a darkside

Saturday morning was my regularly scheduled group run with USAFit Albany. It was a 10 mile run that was scheduled. I had only run up to 9.3 miles before and that was the Boilermaker and I walked through so much of that race. I had been talking to Joel asking him about what he does for nutrition on his long runs and he mentioned he was more concerned with my hydration over food intake. He asked if I knew what my sweat rate was and if I was a salty sweater. I said I didn't know what my rate was but I knew that salt crusts on my face during a run. He suggested I do a sweat rate test and keep track of my data.

Thursday I was supposed to run a tempo run so I figured I could do a sweat test on that run. I was only drinking water, not nuun. I weighed myself, ran for an hour, then weighed myself again and measured how many ounces of water I had drank.

Starting weight: 247.4
Finish weight: 234.4
Difference of: 13lbs
13lbs = 208oz
Ounces drank: 14oz
total of 222oz

It seemed crazy. Loosing 13 pounds from sweating. I mean I know it's plausible but it still seems insane. Joel and I emailed back and forth about the data and he sent me back some stats.

So, 222oz lost. that accounts for 5.7% of your weight. A max of 3% weight loss is considered safe. So over the course of the half marathon, you need to maintain no more than 3% loss. So for an hour of running, you'll need to take in about 120 oz of water/electrolytes per hour. that's a lot, i agree. but that's what the math is telling us.

We agreed that I'd do the sweat rate test again because I felt there were too many inconsistent variables.  So we agreed on at least doubling the amount of hydration I do in an hour. Originally, I would carry my 20oz bottle and I'd be finished with that in an hour. So I was supposed to drink 40oz an hour. Which means I'd need to carry a second bottle, use a fuel belt, or a hydration pack. Joel was coming up to the area so he brought a fuel belt and a hydration pack for me to try out.

I settled in on the 60oz hydration pack.

On Thursday's run, my legs were cramped, I didn't feel strong, I was trapped thinking about some of my physical health concerns.

So Saturday's run was scaring the shit out of me.

I arrived at our start location and I could feel the angst and dread in me. I was publicly cranky and moody. Every fucking negative thought was winning that morning.

We started out running and the first thing I had to tackle was a hill. It was a cooler morning but it was still damp, which makes my lungs hurt more. I had my inhaler with me, I knew if I needed to use it I could. I just started hearing CAN'T. I prepared longer and better hydration and nutrition wise for The Boilermaker and this run was longer than that. I was trying new things, new foods, new flavors, using the hydration pack. I was trying to fight it all and I was getting discouraged and slower and then I just kept shaking my head - very ready to give up. Jenika kept looking back and checking on me, asking me what was going on. I can't even describe it. I know it was a panic attack. I know she was trying her best to get me to think about different things. I wanted the negative to win very badly. I wanted to stop.

After Jenika got me to slow my breathing down, she started asking what I did the other day, which I replied that I went grocery shopping. So she asked me what I got. Pantry items, I replied. So, what's in your pantry? she asked. I mean I knew what she was doing, it's the same way I get rid of people's hiccups by getting them to focus on something else. Little by little I battled up the hills, we started to throw out small personal conversations, and eventually we were at three miles. Every walk interval I was sipping out of the hydration pack and every run interval I was running. I didn't skip any (on purpose). In the Boilermaker I walked most of mile seven to mile nine. When I've been out on my own, I've let exhaustion win and I've walked additional run intervals. By mile 4.5 Jenika commented on my salt buildup on my face and I knew that when we were back in the Crossings, that if we stopped near the yellow trail bathrooms, I could eat a salt packet that I had in my bag and an almond nugget.

We continued on and went past Lisa at the water stop, who was shouting out great positive things. I had checked my hydration bladder when we stopped before and I thought I had enough. We were on mile 7.5, I thought I had enough in there. However at mile eight I tapped the bag. Was I worried? Yes and no. It was only two more miles, I thought about how I don't take water in a 5K so I should be fine. Yet, I was exhausted, depleted, and at the end of my run.

My watch didn't say 10 miles, Jenika's did but she heard me saying how I needed it on my watch, to know I could. So we kept going. My watch ended up saying we ran 9.6 miles, hers said we did 10.8. Jenika's watch has had better accuracy consistently, so I conceded and stopped.

Coach Jennie's parents made us some pancakes (from the batter blaster can's and they were great!) and I had chocolate milk, a salt packet, 20oz of Gatorade, and an almond nugget. I was exhausted and got in the car. My stomach didn't really want food but I knew I needed to put food in it. I was nauseous, and I was starting to get a head ache. When I googled later, headaches caused by salt depletion I certainly scared myself even more. Loosing that much salt puts me at a greater chance for a seizure. Seeing as my headache syndrome also has me at good odds for seizures, it's not a good game of chance. One thing I can control, the other I cannot.

Joel and I talked Sunday morning about what I was experiencing. So I have to increase the amount I drink on the run, by like a lot. I need at least 40oz each hour but honestly, probably more than that.  Our math from earlier says I need 120oz each hour. That's two full hydration packs! So it's crazy to me and scary. Also he wants me to increase my calorie intake during the run to 400 calories. And now I have a run recovery plan. A large V8, 20oz sports drink, 20oz water, and then some form of protein/carb (normally I do chocolate milk but that and V8 don't sound so great together) All of this needs to be consumed within 30 minutes of the end of my run. Then throughout the rest of the day, I need to be taking down a gallon of water baby sip by baby sip.

Knowing all of that and experiencing my second headache after a hard run just made me scared. I have been so happy lately, so it just feels like I'm trying to find ways to negate that happy. Being sick and being worried about getting sick, who sees it, who doesn't - it's just so hard for me. It's hard to say it out loud because it feels like you are loosing control and letting a disorder win.

But I am going to try. I made a promise to try. To let people know more about what happens when I have an attack. What to tell an EMT, where to tell an ambulance to go, having my emergency medical information on me.

It's just so hard. I am excited and proud that I ran 10.8 miles. I want to hold onto that happy. But it makes it that I am walking a fine line, dancing around diminishing odds. Something that makes me feel so strong also makes me feel so weak. Happy and terrified. Mentally, I am unsure of how to battle that.

Can't is a dirty four lettered word

I want to say that I can't do it. That I can't take it. I want to say these things. It is taking all my energy to concentrate on my breathing so I don't have another panic attack. It is taking all my energy to not say "I can't".

What is causing such panic you may ask?
1. A 2nd round interview for an amazing opportunity.
2. The fact that every hour outside of work is scheduled for this week.
3. The emails from The Boilermaker people - all week long.
4. The fact that I'm taking on 9.3 miles without as much training as I wanted.
5. Trying to spend as much time with someone I love before she leaves.
6. That I am so confused about all the emotions that have been shaken up this last week.
7. That I haven't run on my inserts yet because the doctor won't clear me to run until the 7th.
8. The idea of failing during the race.
9. The worry of being alone, or more so lonely.
10. Getting this new job and leaving everything, start new, and try to succeed.

So what do I do?

My release of running is making me scared. I can't drink this week. I'll be dancing for 3 hours a night Tuesday - Thursday. I am tired of crying. I am nervous about admitting so many things and I don't want to do this alone. I need support - to help me survive.

I think about the interview and I know that I will be alright. That they will either like the answers I give or they won't. That my writing sample will be well written or it won't. I think about the last things I will say. They will be well received or they won't. I think about the race and know that it will be extremely tough and that I will finish or I won't. I think about moving forward with my life and if it's what I want. I have no control and that kills me. I can't focus. Things race too quickly in my head and heart and then I can't breathe. So much of what I've learned since 2004 and being diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder has been how to accept not knowing. How to breathe and work through and create a plan.

Today my office mate helped me. He created my plan, the next 30 hours will be focused on dancing & my interview. After that I can pick the next thing to focus on. It however is damn hard. I am thankful for Lil Pup being in town Thursday. Thankful for Clarabell Casablanca just letting me cry on her couch and then realize that a beer needed to be put in my hand. Thankful for D. being just as freaked out by The Boilermaker as I am and knowing we'll both get through it.

I want to not say can't and it is so hard but this is who I am. I have survived so much. So much. So can't is a dirty four lettered word, and I my friends am a lady.

Martin Sheen...he played Kennedy once

When I started this blog I thought it would mostly be about my running journey. I mean I have a personal blog that I keep important non filtered and non-censored posts. Yet it’s a mixture of running, food issues, and emotional items. I mean all of those things combined equate health, so I figure its fair game.

Today is a day for running. I momentarily thought about waking up early and running. It’s still somewhere in the back of my mind that many long distance dedicated running get up early and run their little hearts out before the rest of the world is starting their day. I used to be the early riser wake up and go right to the gym when I worked with a trainer. It made sense; it was on my commute to work. Still, this morning I thought about it, then I let the thought go back to sleep.

I didn’t bring my stuff to work to run either. It’s just I love that darn treadmill at home, it’s also not wanting to think about an extra change of clothes to go to the event I want to go to later.

I also didn’t want to run this morning and wanted to do it later this evening as a hope to wake my ass up later. I’m starting the take chances part of my life, trying to have ownership of my happiness. So I’m going out later tonight. A band I enjoy is coming into town so I’m heading out to a show that starts at 9pm. It’s not like my job requires a large amount of alertness in the morning, so I’m taking it back – I’m taking them all back.

Compromise

This weekend was all about compromise. There were times when it worked in my favor and times when it worked against me. The prior week’s had been rough and I was looking forward to spending time over the weekend with several groups of friends reconnecting and recommitting to my friendships.

Sunday morning I woke up, hopped on the treadmill and pulled out my longest training session to date.  It was a full 68 minutes.  I’m working up to next week’s 78 minute training session.  It was a nice run. My legs didn’t feel like lead as they had on Friday. I had to slow my pace down a bit towards the end of my run but I kept going. I must also admit that with my gallivanting around on Saturday I smoked about four cigarettes. I knew this would kill my lungs on Sunday but I crave hurtful things when I am drinking. (it’s a weakness I’m working on) Each day this weekend I had a drink, which is a lot for me. Friday night I had too much to drink, and the rest of the weekend my hydration suffered. Saturday I had a small beer, and Sunday I ran to earn that Bloody Mary at brunch.

At Sunday brunch I pulled out my calendar to make some dates with the newly formed brunch club and I was surprised by my April and how much I’ve got going on. Some comments were made during this weekend's events that were welcomed (like Hollie’s circle of friends runs very wide and you’d be surprised who she’s connected to.) and other comments that were not welcomed – that I sat with in the evening hours.

I spent time this weekend doing things I love. I shared many of meals with friends, watched movies with my brother, drank some very needed (and strong) Margarita’s, and I drove around in the sunshine singing show tunes. I felt good.

A while ago I had given myself permission. Permission to compromise my heart until I felt my obligations were fulfilled, I know this sounds vague.  Well, I had that last moment this weekend. It was terribly hard and I am glad that I am busy the month of April.

So now the only compromise I’ll make is to which thing I love more. Not which will make someone else happier instead of me. I’m going to take April for myself and we’ll see how this goes.

Baby steps, Hollie. Baby steps.

I've been beaten down, battered, bruised, broken, exhausted, convinced I was dying and yet I've never just given up before. I've always pushed myself through things. I've made choices that considered others over me. I've stayed at jobs far longer than I should have. I've kept people in my life that don't really deserve my friendship. It's mostly because I don't give up.

Most people love that tenacity. I mean it’s a blessing and a curse.

Last night I set out with my friend in tow to her fitness center in her housing complex. I wasn’t feeling great but I figured I would see how I could do. After thirty-two minutes I gave up. I was losing my breath, my head was pounding more than I wanted, and the last straw was the moment when I felt the urge to faint.

I wasn’t pushing too hard, I was running regular, and it wasn’t an extraordinary amount of time that I had run. Yet there was a reason why I had to quit.

It was funny because yesterday I got my yearly reminder to fill out my survey as part of the Intracranial Hypertension Registry.  When I say funny, I mean a bitter reminder.  I had gone a full year without any relapse. Tuesday I had my first battle in over a year.

In October of 2008 I came back from a conference in Cleveland for work. I knew something was different. I had a numb leg and terrible headaches. I couldn’t concentrate of reading a computer screen or reading any books for school. I thought maybe it’s my eye sight and got an eye doctor appointment. One picture of the back of my retinas and I was off to a Neuro-Opthamologist and a Neurologist.  It was confirmed that I had some papilledema which indicated swelling of the brain. Well a whole mess of MRI, CT Scans, and Spinal Taps confirmed that I had nothing wrong with me. Yet the pain had gotten worse. It was no longer a 5 on the pain scale occurring every other day; it was an 8 or 9, occurring daily for hours – with small episodes that were like shocks stopping my entire system.  

I was diagnosed with Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension – which means swelling of the brain, for no apparent reason, with no underlying cause. It was known to be prevalent in young obese women. By August of 2008 I couldn’t stand the pain anymore.  I was on major seizuremedicine and Botox for pain management.  My life had drastically changed. I decided to fight back, get a personal trainer, and take on weight, pain, and life all at the same time.

I did really well with it. I lost weight. I managed my medicine. I had my own apartment. I met someone who took care of me when I was riddled with pain. I did really well with all of that. But my pain wasn’t going away with the use of all this medicine. I also knew I was going to leave my job and its associated health benefits.  I weaned myself off of the medicine, I started going to an acupuncturist, and I put in my notice at work and found a part time job on a cupcake bus that I loved. 

Then there was the accident. I was injured and forced to rest for three months. Then I was jobless for six months more.

I’ve been at my new job for about forty-five days.  If you are my friend on facebook or twitter you’ve seen small posts about my frustration.  So job was/is causing stress due to wanting to work but not having any major projects. There was a girl, who is the coolest, and I got my hopes up – so there was change within two weeks of friends, going on dates, back to friends.  Then a work conference where my panic attacks came back, then a game night where I talked about my past and wondered when the hell I gave up and took the easy route of being back in the Capital District when I fought so hard to leave.  All of those things piled into one with no real release for me because at times I refuse to cry; well you can say I was stressed out.

My body noticed.

Tuesday I was at home and I had an occurrence. A shock riddled through my head, causing everything to stop. No one was home and I was alone when it happened. It's terrifying. I try to hide it as best as I can. Some of my close friends have seen this happen. Once it happens it makes me nervous.

I knew it could affect how I felt when I was running.  When I ran, I could feel every vein pumping in my head. I could hear every throb in my ears and when I cooled down to walk I could still hear it all. Then it felt like I would faint and I gave up.

I posted to my facebook that last night was the first night I ever gave up. Instantly my soulfriend posted that it’s happens to everyone and to take note and then move forward. I love her for that. I love her for much more but for that last night it was good to know she was there.

So I’m nervous and I am taking it slow and I am looking for ways to not be stressed at my work situation. I am reaching out to more people about my life and my feelings. I am asking friends to support me so I don’t go back to negative outlets and the girl I have a crush on, well I am pretty sure that she’s one of the healthiest people to enter my life in awhile, so I dig having her around in the friend capacity.

I’m going to try week 4 day 3 again on Friday and i'm trying to manage the pain. Baby steps, Hollie. Baby steps.

Finding Focus.

The past week was all around rough for me. I was at a conference, I was sick, I was having panic attacks. Since I was sick I chose not to run. There is no point of running myself into the ground with exhaustion. I managed to get through the work week and found myself looking forward to the weekend. I knew I would run on the treadmill Saturday and I had fun plans all weekend long. There were moments of remembering why I love my life, my friends, and why I love myself.

I am proud of myself for this weekend. Yes, there are things I am not proud of as well but I know and understand why I made those choices. Emotional eating and running back to comforts that I probably shouldn’t, yeah those things made me feel guilty but they also made me feel good. Guilty harmful pleasures are like that.

So I’m using the dance technique of “Spotting” for the rest of the week.

I don’t want to lose my focus, lose my center, and lose myself.  Finding a point to return to when you are spinning out of control but you can't just stop you have to keep going.  On my drive into work today I completely disconnected from everything.  It is part of my old coping methods and I am trying to change it. So for now, running will be my spot, my center, and my focus.

Saturday’s run was good. I stepped on the treadmill and started my warm up then I looked at the amount of time for the run. Sixty-two minutes. I was like “holy fuck” I’m going to be on this machine for over an hour. Then I thought about it and remembered that I’d be running for over two hours eventually. I took a deep breath and I began the run. Sixty-two minutes later I had logged in four miles. This is awesome. Because The Boilermaker is 9.6 miles and you have three hours to complete it. If I can walk/run four miles in an hour then in three hours I could do twelve miles (statistically).

Tonight I’ll jump on the treadmill again. I didn’t bring anything to work to do my run right after. It’s just a bit too windy for me right now. So I’ll drive home, get changed, run for an hour, and then eat – shower- sleep.  I’m trying to trick myself into being excited about my training run. I’m trying to spot. Because the work day is long when you have nothing to work on and when your mind is idle – well that’s when the harmful thoughts can do the most damage.

So 30 Seconds to Mars – Closer to the Edge, do your trick. Be my power song today and I promise to spot.

let’s talk about hydration



Hydration Station



First thing to note, I am not hung-over. I am however dehydrated. Yesterday I walked 1 mile at lunch with my co-worker, ran 2.8 miles after work and that led right into dinner & evening activities.

While doing some reading on active.com and a few articles friends posted on Facebook, I knew that I was not the young whippersnapper who would be balls to the wall with a drink in her hand. I did know though I’d be partaking in a beer after a run. Upon reading “Alcohol and Running: Do they mix?” and “Why do hangovers seem so much worse as we get older?”  I knew to handle my drinking like I normally do. Drink the good stuff and have a glass of water in-between drinks. This is how I roll. Makers Mark on the rocks & a glass of water. Two drinks, three waters. Yet last night I had spring fever (really I had twitterpation) so the urge to run around and play was strong. So it was a margarita on the rocks salted while at dinner and two waters.

My friend and I then rolled over to Putnam Den. We were there to see Sirsy . (who always puts on an amazing show) I was asked to represent an Irish Car Bomb. I haven’t done that in ages, like maybe 2002. So I chugged down my pint of Guinness & Bailey’s and told myself to wait. Told myself to get a glass of water but I didn’t. The next two drinks were there for thirst sake. I should have realized it. The Guinness at end of the evening was to round out my evening; so five drinks over six hours, responsible…except for the lack of hydration.

Upon heading back to my friends to crash on his couch I started to realize I had cotton mouth. I got a glass of water when I settled down for the evening. At one point in the evening my right leg just cramped up, like jolted me up in pain cramp. I knew in the morning I would need water, maybe some potassium, and a bit of protein. Then I was kept awake all evening by a cat in heat.  So I am not hung over but I am severely exhausted.

I go back and forth on what I drink when I know I’m dehydrated. Something’s are for taste and potassium (VitaminWater – Revive), other’s are to remind me to keep drinking water (Liter of SmartWater), then the 2^nd coffee of the morning – that’s just to keep me alert. Yes, I know it’s a diuretic – that’s why I’m drinking more water.

Hydration is something I’m going to have to learn about. I didn’t run in the heat before so it will be a challenge to my body.  Active.com has some good articles. I like their “4 Key Hydration Tips for Runners” But for now, it’s quiet in the office. It’s a Friday, most people are in relaxed clothing, catching up on their gossip. Me? I am on my second cup of coffee with my shoes off, coaching myself on how to get through the day.

Off Topic: The Last Eight Months

“I need a place to spend the day,
Where no one says to go or stay,
Where I can take my pen and draw
The girl I mean to be.” – The Secret Garden

What happens when you wake up and you look in the mirror and see a face you haven’t seen in almost a year?

I’ll tell you. You question if the past year even happened.

Since the middle of July I let my hair just grow. I was avoiding the hurt in an unusual way for me. Normally, I steep & wallow. This time I took the advice of everyone else, jump into something new – someone new. I had made poor decisions regarding the attempt of being friends with my ex-girlfriend while casually messing around with someone who was in her six degrees of separation circle. I had a nice little fohawk, my hair was subject to my nickname of Jimmy Neutron, it was part of my identity – it completed my notion of Dapper. This woman understood my butch dynamic; I didn’t have to explain anything. So it felt easy, although it was not easy.

After the exchange of hurtful words, a few “forget you’s” and the statement of never contact me again (as we were both to blame for the demise) I knew that the old feelings I tried to escape and cover up with bravado and machismo were still there behind everything. I decided to no longer be “Jimmy” and to be Hollie. I grew my hair out, became busy doing shows, dedicated time to running and then got a job.

The past two weeks I had been contemplating cutting my hair. Several things occurred to spark this decision. 1. It was the 3^rd time that a man did not know I was gay at first sight. 2. I had money to get a haircut. 3. Warmer weather with thicker long hair was not conducive to my running. 4. It was difficult rocking a skinny tie with this wavy bouncy hair.

When asking for opinions about my hair I knew that there were several women who’d be heartbroken about my “long” locks being chopped off.  Then there were others who would be excited to see Dapper Dan come back into the picture. Then a good woman reminded me to do it for myself and I took a few days to think about it. The next morning I had to blow out my hair, it took 20 minutes, it took several products, it took too much time and the end product was really big hair. I made the decision to cut it.

The Aftermath

I went in yesterday and got a razor cut (which is my favorite type – I like the sound the razor makes on my hair) and I walked out with my fohawk. It was a beautiful spring day. I was in short sleeves. I almost put the top down. However, that is when it hit me. I was in Albany. It was a beautiful sunny day. I felt good. This doesn’t freak most people out. Me, it makes me relive things. One of my friends hates that I live in memories. Yet, I know its part of my makeup. I looked in the mirror and in an instant, the past eight months disappeared. The past eight months have been my strongest and I hate that one look in the mirror made me question it.

The same good woman who reminded me to get a haircut for myself, reminded me to take baby steps, then in our last conversation she reminded me that short hair or long hair, it’s still the same Hollie. While I know it’s true, I just have to get used to the differences. I was hiding, from a lot of things. Now, I'm done hiding.

“I could never rescue you
All you ever wanted
But I could never rescue you
No matter how I tried
All I could do was love you hard
And let you go” – The Last Five Years

My Post Workout MacGyver Kit

Sometimes you'll have the ability to shower at the gym or at a friend’s house, other times you need to pretend to smell good. I used to keep a kit in my office and one in the trunk of my car for such times. When you commute 45 minutes to your place of employment and your girlfriend lived only 10 minutes away, you start to stay there more often. It was then that I realized I needed a MacGyver kit so I didn’t look like I had done the walk of shame the next morning into work after staying at my old girlfriend’s house.

My schedule is last week led to a hectic and often disheveled appearance. Mainly it is because I was waking up, going to work, and then I had something in the evening hours. It’s great I like to keep busy but I also am trying to keep to my running schedule. Take Wednesday for example, I woke up late just barely made coffee and then got to work with my giant gym bag in hand. My gym bag has a few small essentials encase I need to clean up for a night on the town. Thankfully tonight I am using a friend’s house to shower up after my run to make it to a social engagement that I would prefer to not be smelly at. So my post workout MacGyver kit did not need to be reassembled.

What is a MacGyver Kit you ask?

The other day I read a great post about a woman’s MacGyver kit, it showed a great bag that you could easily sew. I figured this would be a lot nicer than my current situation of having everything in the top drawer of my office desk.

What do I keep around? There are a few of these awesome personal wipes (with various uses) that are tablet size and will increase when you moisten them. http://www.canawipe.com/about.html

I also like keeping this shampoo bar in my bag because you can also use it as a mild soap too. http://secure.jrliggett.com/proddetail.php?prod=2004

But for those times that I can’t shower but I was cleaner looking hair, I reach for the Psssssst. (most often this is in my trunk bag) The packaging is also just really cool.
http://www.amazon.com/Psssssst-Instant-Spray-Shampoo-4-Ounces/dp/B000TCXEO8

Then I keep a travel toothbrush, travel toothpaste, deodorant, Advil, travel size lavender baby oil, chap-stick and a protein bar or shake packet. In the trunk of my car I usually also pack old sneakers, a pair of khaki’s, a change of undergarments, a t-shirt, thin sweater, and a baseball cap in a neutral color.

It’s come in handy several times over. I used to make kits like this for graduation presents. Things you'd need in a residence hall, or things you'd need as a commuter student. You'll see that perfume, body spray, etc. isn't on my list. The lavender baby oil is usually a replacement for scent & as a way to keep my skin really smooth. I just find it hard to keep my perfumes not freezing, or evaporating. (I have an travel atomizer but I have yet figured out how to open my Jo Malone without breaking the bottle.) 


Call it what you will; me being nerdy, my inner girl scout of always being prepared, my swagger life style. I just like to smell good. I am pretty sure my friends, co-workers, and dates appreciate it.

Bust.

“No matter who or what is eating ya, you show it and you’re dead.  You are cutting a hole in yourselves for them to stick in a red hot umbrella and open it wide.  Man you wanna get past the cops when they start asking about tonight? You play it cool. You wanna live in this lousy world? Play it cool. I wanna get even! Get cool. I wanna bust! Bust cool. I wanna go! Go cool.” - West Side Story

Sometimes running has this effect on me.

When I was little I used to get so angry. I wanted to hit, to flail, to rage.  I wanted to act out and well often I did. Because of this I wasn’t allowed to have things. My bike would be off limits at times because I would take it out on my things. So then I knew I could use my feet. I could run down my street as fast as I could and my tears would stream out and away from my face and I could feel that rush of pain in my lungs, in my heart, in my feet.  I got it out of my system.

I still use running like this. Sometimes there is pain that you just don’t want to burden people with. When it’s the same cycle of rinse & repeat.  I get that feeling and well I also get the urge to run; to run as fast and hard as I can. While I won’t run as fast & as hard as I can, I will still run.

I think about haters. I think about semantics. I think about 45 minutes of freedom.

So – I’m about to bust cool.

Off topic.

Hotel Kilo.

That’s my new band name. Oh, you haven’t heard about my pension to randomly create band names from random morning thoughts? I actually have a continuous note on my iphone where I can quickly type in a new band name.

Some jems are:
Free Beer & Afterbirth, Pansy Bowls & Flats, Ginger Haired Jesus, The boy I’m banging from Calcutta, Heroes of the Torah, Gyro Station.

Sometimes there are song titles from our first albums as well. Songs like:
She does make a mean fuckin cookie, Fred Savage Says, Too hungover for sunshine, Trippin over children, Quick thinking & canola oil.

This all comes from “getting the band back together” – my band is a group of awesome women who live in New York City. I see them every six months to a year and it’s always crazy when I see them. The band was formed at The Slaughtered Lamb in Greenwich Village where we all picked band rolls (I’m lead singer) and commiserated over beer & fried food, our bands name? Chub Rub & the Backfats, first single – Big Joe’s Jugular.

A few months later we lost a band member due to a relationship break up but we reformed the band with another single lady who I reconnected with. Let me set the record straight. We are in no way a real band. It’s just a bunch of misfits who like a good time. However, I’ve picked up the habit of thinking up band names. Usually I test them out with (insert band name) tonight, live at the Buckhout. If it sounds ok, then it sits in my band name list. Some times we break out into "side projects" or "solo acts" but it's just a silly way to say this is my group of friends and it's become an intersting habit.

So this morning the name Hotel Kilo came into my head for several reasons. I was thinking about alphanumeric code that we used on the radio in Washington D.C. working for NYLC and I’d be Hotel Mike, but I always hated that. Hotel Kilo would sound better I thought but what would I associate the Kilo with. Then the associations flooded inward. The ex-girlfriend’s name started with a K and so I put our real names together again and it was a sucker punch straight out of nowhere.

See I am going through an awkward patch, where you hear an awesome love song and it makes you feel something but you don’t know where to place the emotions. Do you place them with the ex who you are dead to, with the woman who you took a chance with and failed miserably and you are still getting over rejection, or find shiny new infatuation?

Then I thought about how close Hotel Kilo sounded & looked to Hello Kitty and well my love/hate relationship with that Sanrio toy and its cult following are still something I try to steer clear from, so I want to hate it but I am digging the name Hotel Kilo.

It’s all random but it’s what’s on my mind during my morning commute.