Amigos, Corriendo

Carlsbad goals and blogger reunion

T-shirt at the Carlsbad expo

Earlier in the month I said that my only goal for the Carlsbad Half Marathon was to negative split. It’s the first time in my rather short race history that I don’t want to PR. Even for the Long Beach Marathon when I was entering a bit injured, I wanted to best my previous time.

This time around, [I think] I’m okay with just negative splitting. A PR seems a little out of reach considering my recent mileage is rather low and I’m still not one hundred percent okay with the IT band issues. In addition, since I’ve decided to run LA, this should be more of a training run.

Anyway… I’m more or less scared I can’t get back to the speedy-for-me pace that felt so easy at the Holiday Half.

We’ll see.

***

While I’m being a weenie about the race, I’ve been excited for this weekend. I signed up in November with some long time friends I met through blogging years ago. Back then we called our little blogging community Blogotitlán (or Blogtitlán). Although we weren’t all Latino and lived all over the country, we found that we had a lot in common and could relate to one another’s posts about everything from identity to our education. Through travel for school, I had the opportunity to meet people in NY, Chicago, Austin, and all over California. It’s been pretty cool.

I don’t know who came up with running Carlsbad. I think it was David’s (Oso) idea. He tagged some others in our little community who were in to running. Soon enough four of us were registered for the full or half. Sean decided to run as did my sister. Elena’s friend also registered. We all made plans to come in from Chicago, Columbus, Mexico City, LA and Bakersfield and rented a house for the weekend. A few others in the area said they didn’t want to run, but would come out to cheer. César was down to run and train for a race, but couldn’t make it out to California.

Seven years ago when I first met and got to know Elena, David, Alfonso, Adriana and Gustavo via the interwebs, I thought one day we’d all hang out (with some others in the informal crew too!). We even tried to plan a reunion but it fell through because I’m flaky like that. I didn’t think the reunion would finally happen on a race weekend.

Elena wrote a much better post on the reunion.

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Amigos, Cuentos

Robbie’s story: Tattoos and tots

I met Robbie through Adrian. For years, I called him “my brother’s friend” even though I considered him my friend as well. I like Robbie and get along with him well. The whole family (even extended) is cool with Robbie. He was the only non-cousin invited on the camping trip, excluding the plus-one significant others. Sadly, he backed out shortly before the trip and we wondered aloud how it would have been different with his presence. I felt really bad when I realized that I had never personally told Robbie I was engaged; he had to find out through Facebook. My tío Pancho is one of his biggest fans and regularly tells his daughters to invite Robbie to their parties. He brings the party.

I saw Robbie recently at Cain’s house for a little get together. There was beer, food, beer pong and wading in little Becka’s pool. And a story from Robbie.

As you can see, Robbie has a tattoo or two. They’re pretty neat and easy to notice. His toddler cousin saw Robbie’s tattoos and wanted one of his own. He asked his mom.

“Mom, can I get a tattoo?”

“Yes, but only after you get older and graduate from college. When you graduate from college, I’ll take you to get any tattoo you want.”

The toddler was satisfied with his mother’s answer.

Later, at a family gathering in East LA he noticed a heavily tattooed veterano (older, retired cholo).

The precocious toddler walked up to the man and asked innocently, “What college did you go to?”

We couldn’t stop laughing.

Thanks to Robbie for letting me post this.

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Amigos

Priced out

My plan was to win money or a car. If I won the car, I’d sell it. I’d use the cash for the wedding fund. Good plan, right? Sadly, it didn’t come to fruition.

I came home from The Price is Right seven hours later con un pedo en la mano[1]. Actually, I didn’t leave empty handed. I came home with a $25 gift certificate to Fantastic Sam’s and some stories about my day.

Needless to say, I was never called to “come on down!” to Contestants’ Row. All those people walked away with a decent door prize. Instead, I waited around for hours on uncomfortable benches, read more of Y: The Last Man and caught up with some grad school friends.

My friend Lucy asked me to fill a spot from someone who flaked from her 4-person reservation earlier in the week. I said sure. I like Lucy, she’s fun to hang out with and would make the day away from work worthwhile. I prepared the night before by briefly studying some prices in the Sunday newspaper mailers. That morning I got dressed in a UCLA t-shirt and hoodie since the show was for the back-to-school/colllege special.

Representing UCLA @ The Price Is Right

I didn’t have my heart set on being a contestant. If I was, I probably would have worn tiny shorts, a cutesy low-cute t-shirt, knee-high socks, big hair and gobs of makeup (think Hooters waitress). Or I could have relied on my personality and been more outgoing when it was time for the very brief group interview with the producers. By the time it was my group’s chance to chat with the producers, I’d already been waiting about 4 hours. I was tired, bored and couldn’t muster any excitement. I’m sure I sounded like the most boring education PhD student ever. I might have been better off I had said something like, “my dissertation is on the impact of watching The Price is Right on college students’ grades.” And then I’d say I’d found some positive correlations, especially for math grades and public speaking.

Anyway, the actual taping was entertaining and went by rather quickly. The set looks just like it did from the Bob Barker days, but now with a much thinner Drew Carey at the helm. We sat in the second row way up front, stage right. The contestants who competed for the big prizes on stage sat in front of us filling out prize forms and commiserating about lost cars and money. When we weren’t taping and being instructed on what to do (cheer loud, look pumped) and what not to do (take forever to come on down or make a guess on a price), loud pop music played pumping up the crowd.

Aside from watching the chosen contestants compete, the best part was the off-camera time with Carey. He was pretty entertaining and talked to the mainly college student crowd about his not-so-great college career (he was dismissed twice from Kent State for academic reasons and never graduated). He even gave advice to those who seemed interested in entertainment. He seemed kind of humble about his career. Naturally, he had great rapport with new announcer George Gray. I’m not surprised that Carey was my favorite part of the day since I enjoyed his eponymous series and Whose Line Is It Anyway?.

The back to school episode, also the final episode of season 39 (!), will debut on August 19th.

Notes:

[1] My mom uses this phrase all the time. It literally means “with a fart in hand” but just think of it as being empty handed. The origin of this phrase is actually a cute story from my mom’s childhood. I need to double check the details with her and will post it later.

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Amigos, Cambios

Super 12 encounter

Cindy, Eligio & Irvin

During yesterday’s bus ride home, I was engrossed in a game of Ms. Pac-Man (because I’m a feminist and stuff) and a podcast when a young man took a seat in front of me. I looked up. He was looking at me like he knew me.

He smiled waiting for me to recognize him.

“Cindy? It’s Irvin.”

“Oh, I know… I recognize you.” He hadn’t changed much, he looked almost exactly as he did 9 years ago (he’s the one without the hat above).

I didn’t sound as enthusiastic as I should have. I was a bit confused and out of it. I really need a nap. I stopped my game and podcast and greeted him.

I met Irvin ten years ago at school and quickly became friends. Unfortunately, we lost touch over the years. I don’t remember the last time I saw him, but he asked if I was still dating a guy who lived in San Francisco. Um, no. That ended in 2002. I knew I’d seen him more recently maybe 4-5 years ago, but we just probably hadn’t talked about dating so he just remembered the SF guy.

“I saw you when you got on, but I didn’t know it was you at first. You look… uh, different.”

I knew what Irvin was trying to say. He was trying to say “wow, you lost a lot of weight” without seeming crass or rude. Totally understandable, it’s a sensitive subject for a lot of people and when people have noted it in the past it’s made me uncomfortable and even offended. Usually, people are complimentary and sincere.

Irvin was one of those, which is no surprise since he’s always been kind and friendly.

“You lost weight, right?”

“Yeah.”

We caught up about work, school, how I met my fiance and Irvin’s recent move back to the westside. I suggested we grab lunch while on campus.

“We should. I already added you on Facebook,” he replied, somewhat bashful.

“Really? On your phone?”

“Yeah. When I saw you I didn’t want to say hi without being sure. So I looked you up to see if I could find a more recent picture. I didn’t want to look crazy.”

I’m thankful for smart phones — despite refusing to get one — and that we could reconnect, albeit briefly.

I’ve had people doubt I’m the person I know or the one in the photo ID, but at least something good came out of this experience.

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Amigos, Viajes

Better days and get aways

“Wow, you couldn’t have picked anyone further away,” Juan said.

“Yeah,” I replied.

My cousin is right. Sean is far away — 2,400 or 2,800 miles (depending on your mode of transportation).

We let seven weeks pass without seeing each other. That was tough, but unavoidable with a busy April schedule which included travel to Michigan and working a couple of weekends. Now that we can plan better, our visits will be much more frequent.

The trip was great, even when I mysteriously hurt my back in the middle of a play. I spent most of the next few days in bed with Sean at the ready to get me whatever I needed. He did a great job taking care of me. I’m lucky.

A few trip photos after the jump to prove I wasn’t bedridden the whole time.

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