Medals Matter

Warm fuzzies, also known in the 1960s as "positive strokes," is something that parents who want to raise emotionally healthy children cannot do without.

Warm fuzzies come in verbal and non-verbal forms. Verbal warm fuzzies are words that feel good to children; non-verbal warm fuzzies are good-feeling actions.

As we saw previously, smiles, tender touches, gifts and friendly play are some of the non-verbal good stuff that children appreciate.The verbal fuzzies are praise, positive programming and emotional coaching. ~The Art of Positive Reinforcement

Warm fuzzies. They're a parent's best friend. (Right...actual parents?) I think most of us can look back on our childhood and see it littered with mounds of warm fuzzies. All the awards given out come the end of the school year---you know they made one up for each kid, the certificate if you even participated in a competition, and the trophies. Don't even get me started on the trophies. I'm pretty sure I had a dance trophy at one point. That's right people, DANCE. Anyone who has seen me attempt anything requiring physical coordination beyond the wrist can attest to the fact that it does NOT warrant a trophy. But I'll take it.

I'm all for that positive reinforcement. Let's build those kids up. Give them stickers, certificates, trophies...and then drop them. I mean, when's the last time you got a trophy, adult populace? Too long ago is my guess. Here's the thing: a couple of weeks ago the Rhodes Runners took on a 5K Challenge. Those of you who don't consider that a challenge should see the pictures of my father at the finish. You'll reconsider. We stretched, we ran, and we ate french toast. The kids got their faces painted. (My 18-year-old brother would have had he not been forcefully restrained). And then most of us left.

LUCKILY, Jill stayed behind and was rewarded for her presence. WITH A MEDAL. In actuality, it wasn't for her patience, but she had taken Silver in her division. And as it turned out, Jill was not alone. My aforementioned father ALSO medaled in his division taking the bronze, tormented runner that he was. And...wait for it...I too was a recipient of The Bronze. Capital "the" obviously.

Since most of us had missed the medal ceremony, it was clearly necessary to hold one of our own. It's difficult to tell in this photograph, but Jill was standing on a pot in recognition of her Silver Status.

I was overjoyed. And somewhat emotional following our stirring rendition of the national anthem. Homemade ice cream, peanut butter oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and cupcakes only further amplified said joy.

I wore my medal at various intervals throughout the coming week, and encouraged my fellow winners to do the same. I decided it might interfere with my golf game, glinting in the sun as it dangled from my neck, and I restrained myself from wearing it on a date. (Who knows when he got a medal last?) Otherwise, it's a great neck-strengthener. And a great reminder that MEDALS MATTER.

Let's get on that positive reinforcement train...as adults! There are days when you warrant a sticker for even getting up in the morning. So keep some on hand. And maybe distribute them to worthy recipients throughout the day. The childhood days of meaningless trophies need not be lost. Guaranteed there are thousands of warm fuzzies in that golden cup! Let them flow forth.

Basically, go out and win a medal***. They matter.

Race days=my best look. Hands down.

Miranda and Mom! Both successful runners.

Working it out...



***If you need a recommendation for a small race which distributes medals to each age division, let me know. I might have information on one. And am looking for more.

A Pianist's Publication

While I have been woefully negligent of this blog, I did manage to come up with a guest post for the Washington DC Phillips Collection blog, "Experiment Station."

Talented vocalists and other musicians from Wolf Trap return to The Phillips Collection this Thursday at 6:30 pm for the second concert in the Vocal Colors: A Musical Exploration of Visual Art series. Pianist Stephanie Rhodes guest blogs about her experience interpreting artwork through music.

You can read all about it HERE.

And that will suffice for the time being. Someday I may return to blogging. Maybe...

La vie parisienne

Être parisien, ce n'est pas être né à Paris, c'est y renaître.
~Sacha Guitry

I came out of the metro and was greeted by Our Lady of Paris---Notre Dame. An unnecessarily long train ride, the 9-hour flight, and 4 weeks of high-level stress (even for me) seemed to melt away in an instant. Next thing I knew I was dangling my feet over La Seine and basking in the warm Spring sunshine while eating a savory crepe. Adieu to troubles, doubts, etc. Welcome back Life. And Breath. I went to Paris but felt the calm of returning home. Home with some serious perks.

Amongst said perks: Quality time with some of my fantastic friends--The Lees! This couple has to be one of my absolute favorites. They're the friends that you'll run into and it feels as if no time has passed whatsoever. We filled two days in Paris with fun, relaxation, laughter, and quality conversation (we being mostly me and MJ due to Bri's work ethic). Proof of said adventures was more effectively documented Here and Here. Pictures courtesy of Mary Jane, given my camera's non-existent battery life.

Other perks? Nutella-filled crepes. Cassoulet. Shopping. Auditioning. Practicing French. And Russian. And Italian. I LOVE EUROPE! People-watching. Modern Family. Going to an Opera. Walking everywhere. Croissants. Macarons. Sleeping. Arm and hand-holding. Hair curling techniques. La Tour Eiffel. Arc de Triomphe. You know. The norm.

Post-Paris, my new life aspirations: merging the attitudes of La vie quotidienne with La vie parisienne. Working in Europe. And finding another excuse to go to Paris. Somehow it's home too.

It was a dark and stormy night...

So maybe that title is slightly inaccurate. But it WAS a seriously damp and foggy morning.

Inspirational right??? Just screams "13.1 MILES! Let's RUN it!" Either that or "RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S LURKING IN THE MIST!" You decide. But run I did. And within minutes I was dripping wet. Yes, I sweat. No, not to the point of dripping. The 100% humidity made for some serious condensation though, and managed to keep things quite cool (lest you think my positivity lacking). So then I ran. Hearing the ocean waves nearby and eventually starting to catch glimpses of the scenery made for pleasant distractions. And I kept running. Made friends with Kevyn around mile 7. Yup, eat that rhyme! I attribute my finish in great part to her. Yup, HER. She was my positivity when I ran out. Literally, ran it right out of my system. And still had to run. Her conversation and push through the last two miles got me to my finish and her part way through her marathon. Keyword: FINISH. I crossed the finished line, bent in half, contemplated crying, thought better of it, and went on my way AFTER smiling what may have been the cheesiest grin of my life. Said grin was documented by race photographers who want to rip me off, so unfortunately it will not be posted here.

The funny thing? Kevyn and I had a conversation around mile 9 that still makes me laugh thinking about it. We were discussing her work at the YMCA---she teaches boot camp classes, race training courses, etc. A wonder woman and multiple-marathoner. And somewhere in the midst of it she turned to me and said "Really I don't even like running." My answer? "I don't either!" And there we were.

So...WHY?!? Really I can't give a definite answer. Eventually a post on Life Lessons Learned while Running might be in order. But I'm still learning them so for the time being that's out. For now, I think there's something to be said for overcoming physical difficulty. For learning to breathe when it feels impossible to do so. For tuning out the negativity that can literally weigh down our step and slow our pace. For encouraging others and working to get not only yourself, but others across the finish line. And somewhere along the way, to have a moment where music stops, thoughts quiet, calm reigns and you find yourself.

After 2:08:46.1. Less than goal time which was 2:15!!! I was almost ready to call myself a runner. And do note the change in weather. A light sea breeze can go a long way.


Six Days Later...

My first 10K! The Rodeo Run was not my finest moment, despite my "Can I get a Yee Haw?" shirt. Somewhere along the way I think I might have said "To hell with life lessons." Perhaps a bit more mental and physical recovery time was in order...

COMING SOON:
Bayou City Classic 10K
Bluebonnet 5K---followed by all you can eat Blue Bell ice cream!
Angie's Crazy Half Marathon
Step By Step 5K

The aim? 100 miles of racing in 2011. We'll see..

From Turkey Trot to Mardi Gras

10 Weeks of training. 182 miles logged. My first experience with GU. My first fitness magazine subscription---WHAT?!? Lots of Gatorade. Lots more water. A yoga regiment for balance. Plenty of complaints. One fall. A few tears. Solo. No music. Thoughts. Silence. And somewhere in the mix, a newfound love. Which I love to hate.

13.1 miles to go. But when I picked up my race packet and saw my number AND name inside, I felt a surge of excitement that might just last me through Sunday and the second race of my life. Here's hoping that a half-marathon will shortly be successfully checked off the life to do list!

The Texas Stop Sign

There was a point in my life when things took a drastic turn of direction. So rather than settling into a pin-sized NYC apartment, I found myself roadtripping across West Texas with Mom. I had never been to Texas and can't say that my drive through the West was doing much to endear me to the state. It was a Sunday night and nearing dinner time when we came upon a settlement that seemed to have a few possible dining selections. Brief conversation ensued. Result: We weren't hungry just yet. Let's wait for a bit and find something down the road. MISTAKE!!! But perhaps one of the greatest of all time. As we continued driving, looking for "something down the road" it became apparent...that there was nothing. No more villages, settlements, towns, cities, or signs of life. Period. I began to understand what starvation was. A roadtrip without food at my every whim?!?! (Note: This was in pre-GPS days and we really had no way of knowing when our next food source might surface). And then, there it was, a beacon of hope blazing brightly in the distance. Or at least on the roadside signage. THE TEXAS STOP SIGN!

We walked through the door of Dairy Queen and into another world. It was a small-town Sunday evening. The sheriff was in and sporting his cowboy hat and boots. A table of old timers in their overalls stopped conversation at the sight of strangers. They needn't have bothered. I'm not a native drawl speaker and while I happily incorporate y'all into my current vocabulary, I was nowhere near such proficiency at the time. All in all, it felt as if we'd managed to step onto a film set for an old-school western or family feature. I can mark that occasion as the evening I started to fall for Texas, a state which has now laid claim to a serious portion of my heart. This song, in fact, was discovered for me by a MI roommate who might have heard about TX a time or two...

Singer-Songwriter and San Antonio native, Edith Frost from her album "Wonder Wonder."

The reason for this reminiscing? A weekend roadtrip and concert in Corpus Christi with the ever-fabulous MS and C(M)M! We hit that inevitable bathroom-break point of the trip, and lo and behold...there it was. The ever-present DQ. Clearly with the fates smiling on us, more than a bathroom break was in order. Note from the following picture who opted for the MINI Blizzard and feel free to hold it against HIM on future occasion.

Yet another trip to store away in the Texan corner of my heart.

Paris Playlist

A brief mental exercise for the middle of your work week:

Imagine you are creating a "Paris Playlist." 10 Songs. And...GO!

I'm going to imagine I haven't already made a playlist with said title, and in that imaginary world this song would be among my ten.
But if we exit the Neighborhood of Make-Believe, then I have to say I already made a "Paris Playlist" this week. And here are my 10 in Actuality. (Capitalized to effectively transport you into that realm).

1. Strauss: Elektra

2. Mozart: Le Nozze di Figaro

3. Mozart: Die Zauberflöte

4. Bizet: Carmen

5. Puccini: La Bohème

6. Verdi: Otello

7. Berg: Wozzeck

8. Berlioz: La Damnation de Faust

9. Wagner: Tristan und Isolde

10. Gounod: Faust

Alright, so if you're not an opera nerd---apologies AND clarification: These are all operas. Go listen to them. If you already realized you were dealing with the operatic medium---congratulations AND clarification: I am not SO technologically inept that I would ever try to put the entire opera of Tristan und Isolde on a shared playlist. With anything. Period.

In fact, "Paris Playlist" is all operatic excerpts. Put it on shuffle and it's slightly terrifying. And seriously amazing. But I'm going to go ahead and guess that it's slightly varied from yours. (Because of course you participated in Exercise A.) And with my current oddities up for your review, I would actually like to know what made your list of 10. A "Paris Playlist, Vol. 2" might be in order.

INPUT!!!