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I ran ten miles tonight. The end.

@NatAttack

In days of yore, I was a 5x a week blogger. Oh the good old days. Now, I have a job that keeps me too busy to be odd on a regular basis.

Many of you know I work in the Internet community--so my ear is to the ground on Web 2.0 3.0 and trends in the industry. In fact, my job encourages staying active in the community.

Without too much of a push, I've taken to micro-blogging; 140 characters--no more. Quicker, more convenient (via text? heck yes!), and less stress. I've blogged about it before, I know, but I've evolved into a full-fledged, multiple times a day Twitterer.

Working in the community (and being "followed" by all my coworkers) provides a little bit of stress about my tweets and what to include/not include. (Do I want the people I work with to know I'm seeing HSM3 in the theater for the 2nd time? That I was in my pajamas until 5PM on Saturday?) I decided however, to keep them professional, but tweet about whatever I want. (The answer was YES to both)

Today I received some validation. Best comment ever this morning from my creative director: "i love your twitters. 'cause they are not always about the damn internet." (No caps within an instant message is acceptable in web land.)

To the right is a visual represenation about my last week's worth of tweets. My favorite stream is definitely the "Skittles" thread. One of these days, I'll grow up and be a real adult.

Fantastically funny people I follow on Twitter that you might also know: @mal_pal, @KLaa27, @replikate, @wlau, @colleenita, @dlicia, @RyanSeacrest. There are plenty of people you know and love. Full-fledged blogging might have stressed you out, but this is low commitment. Join us!

The good and bad

The good: I've been following my self created running schedule. I run when I plan to run.
The bad: Does success count if it's only been 10 days?

The good: I haven't had to rely on my personal DVD player yet to entertain me on the treadmill.
The bad: Somehow I always get to the gym right when halftime is starting so one of my favorite past times (watching basketball) is mostly analysis I can't hear. Bummer.

The good: I get to run on a treadmill for two more weeks.
The bad: Once April hits, I promised myself I'd start running outside. Need to learn to work the wind.

The good: My office is right on the Charles river (my new desk has a river view, woot!) so I have easy access to beautiful runs. This should dull the sting of being forced out of my comfort zone.
The bad: None here. (Other then that comfort zone thing)

The good: My gym stays open until midnight. I've finished runs as late as 11 this week--I like when the gym is empty.
The bad: I don't think you're supposed to exercise after 8pm, it keeps you up at night!

Is it better to give the good or bad news first? Discuss.

The bad: I am a sweater. Like a serious, serious, sweater. Like my whole body glistens and my shirt is patchy.
The good: I get to rock my Celtics sweatband.

The bad: There are so so so so so many gym rats pumping iron every time I'm there. A little intimidating (hence running late at night) and a touch creepy.
The good: The townie gym rats provide me an inner dialogue I think yall would find rather enjoyable. (A future blog to come?)

The bad: IF you eat KFC an hour before you attend the gym, you're destined to see nothing but KFC ads on the TV right in front of your face for the next 70 minutes. It's called karma.
The good: You still rocked that treadmill.

The bad: I'm still a pretty slow (can we call it "steady"? ) runner.
The good: Tonight it just seemed to click. I shaved a minute off each of my miles and felt stronger than I did even two days ago. I remember this happening last time I trained; one day it just seemed to click.

The bad: I didn't start training for the Half marathon until last Tuesday.
The good: I ran six miles tonight and felt GREAT.

I CAN DO THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way

West Side Story has always been my favorite musical. When I heard they were reviving the musical on Broadway, my heart didn't merely beat faster, I think it actually started snapping.

I've been in New York City this weekend to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of Melissa in the form of a bridal shower brunch (and to visit some of my other favorite people of course). She and I have been talking about trying to win tickets to see WWS (she loves it as much as I do) for months now. Long story short, Melissa won the lottery. This was a big deal, because in its second week of previews (the show is still in soft rehersals, it doesn't officially open until the end of March) the lottery pool was already almost as large as Wickeds. (Joe, Jamar and I tried to win on Friday night but didn't) For the girl who says she never wins anything, she really won the big prize. She and I were literally floating on air during dinner.

When you win lottery tickets, you pay $26.50 to sit in the front row with somewhat obstructed view (in this case, we couldn't see the dancers feet too much). NO BIG DEAL. Being so close to the 30 person orchestra, and seeing all the actors' faces and true sweat... the show whas phen.om.enal. Words will not do it justice, but I'll try.

Things I love love loved about this West Side Story revival (in no particular order):

• The dancing was the original choreography from the original show recreated and restaged. High kicks, jumps and all. Seeing it from the front row was surreal; and completely all encompassing.
• Being so close to the stage allowed us to keep a close eye on the conductor and how good he was at his job--especially keeping the music and snaps on count.
• During the large group dances (the Mambo at the gym, the opening scene, "Cool") there was so much to see and movement from all corners that it was overwhelming to watch and decide where to focus.
  
• The color palattes for the Jets and Sharks were unbelievable. The Jets wore green, mellow orange and khacki while the Sharks wore purple and black. The costumes blew my mind, because the styles were all so different, but the colors clearly identified what gang each character belonged to.
• They used actual Latins for the Sharks. The Sharks spoke and sang in Spanish. While I missed hearing the words to some classic songs ("I Feel Pretty"), hearing them in Spanish was this amazing combination of old and new.
• The Anita in this show should win a Tony hands down. Any.time. she was on the stage I literally could not take my eyes off of her. She absolutely sold her part -- more so than any character I have ever seen on stage (Elphaba in Wicked included).
• Have I mentioned how amazing the dancing was?
• Tony was a hunk. Riff too. Bernardo tambien. In fact, all the male characters on this show were strong.
  
• Singing check. Dancing check. Acting? Superb. You felt the honest emotion; the show was incredibly raw. The tension was there from start to finish. I know the ins and outs of the story but was still shocked and surprised by the plot. It's easy to get carried away when a show is just that good.
  

Alright, alright, I'll stop raving now. Just know this--the show was so beautiful at times that it was almost too much to take in. I didn't cry, but felt moved to tears on several occasions. There's a possibility this might be the best Broadway show I've ever seen. I'm still trying to mull it over in my head, but this is a must see in NYC if you're a fan of the big singing and dancing musicals. I promise you won't be sorry. Then, cross your fingers and say your prayers you don't get an Anita understudy.

Back on the bike

If you fail, try try again.

Is that a common saying? (A cliche? An idiosyncrasy? WHAT is the word I'm looking for? I'm watching Idol and trying to blog and my brain is idoled. I mean idled. I mean that's not the word I was looking for. Scrambled. My brain is scrambled. End side tangent of side tangent. Side note? Oh Ryan Seacrest, why is my brain distracted by your white white teeth?)

BACK TO FAILING. I'm sure I've failed at a host of things (see above paragraph for proof). In my head, there stands out one goal I actively tried to pursue twice but was unable to achieve due to a series of ridiculously unfortunate events. I'm talking, of course, about the half marathon.

Remember? I got the furthest in my training in 2007, my first year in Boston. I got as far as a ten mile run before the plague of unknown persuasion took hold of my life the three weeks before the run. The doctor said no to the run. I rebelled by dying my hair red. Last year, I was ready to try again. Remember what happened? Sigh.

GUESS WHO'S GOING TO GIVE IT ANOTHER GO? (Guess who's mom said that if something freakish happens again this year I have to give up the dream?) I've put off training for weeks and weeks. So much so, that my inner panic levels were on red hot red. Tonight was the official kick off.

Less than 10 weeks to train for 13.1 miles.

Wouldn't you be stressed out? Haven't been to the gym since I broke my leg. Oye. Alright, so tonight wasn't the greatest run, but miles are miles, and I started with 4.5. (Don't you worry your pretty little head about how long it took me to do so. Miles are miles.) 35% of the way there! (Equal parts encouraged and terrified am I right now.) I promptly celebrated by eating 200-calories worth of chocolate covered pretzels. (Check out the 100 calorie packs. They'll rock your world.)

So here I go, wish me luck. I'm sure I'll have much to say. (In fact, some of my best material came from run recaps.) 10 weeks and stressing counting...

I want pie! I want beef jerky!

Good morning friends, frenemies, and good old fashioned enemies! Today is Monday, March 2nd, and Boston has received a foot of snow in the last two days. And here I thought it was past... bummer. On a day like today, I'd typically work from home, but considering our modem bit the dust this weekend and the Internet is my living, WFH isn't really an option, now is it? And the greatest irony of all is the fact we're presenting to the City's Department of Public Works (aka: "The Snow Patrol). So I walked to work in mid-shin deep snow. Big start to the day.

I have other updates to give, and perchance I'll give them later, but I need to get hoppin'. Until then, enjoy the 1:30 video below. I promise promise promise it's worth your time. I couldn't stop giggling and am still not sure which is my favorite--and which would get the coveted blog title. I think my true favorite might be "I'm her mother." "No she's not." Too late to change now. What's your favorite?

BRAINSTORM!