I may not always succeed, but I like to think I have some idea of what makes writing (specifically first-person-type writing) interesting—or boring.

Yesterday, Paul showed me a self-published memoir he’d helped edit, something for me to page through while he polished his shoes (seriously).

Ostensibly, the woman who wrote it had led a fascinating life—a stint in the military, lots of travel, a significant inheritance that funded said travel—but I wasn’t compelled to read the book. Its structure was super-linear (i.e., then I went here, then here, then here!), and Paul said she shied away from including personal details. (Her divorce? Never mentioned.)

We had a little discussion about what makes a good personal story, whether it’s a memoir, an essay, or a blog post. (#JournalistRomance, amirite?) The verdict:

Personality. Your writing should sound like you. The anecdotes you choose to include should be ones you’d tell your closest friends in conversation. Just because your audience may include strangers doesn’t mean you should censor yourself. You’re telling your story—if readers don’t like it, at least you gave them something distinctly “you” to dislike. And leaving out or glossing over the negative stuff makes you seem less than human.

Anecdotes. Back to those anecdotes: One quirky tale of how you yelled a spell from the Harry Potter books on a scary ride is worth a thousand day-by-day recaps of a weeklong vacation. Details like this are how you distinguish the story of your trip to Orlando (or wherever) from the stories of the millions of other people who’ve been there.

Order. Another reason those day-by-day recaps suck: No one cares to know every detail of every moment of every day.* Lead with the anecdote. Hook the reader. You can fill in some other details later. (To see a good example of this, check out my coworker Robert’s recap of the Big Sur International Marathon.) This applies to memoirs, too. Roald Dahl does it right in Boy: The stories are in chronological order, but they’re not overly detailed summaries. Instead, they’re memorable snippets—I can still picture him opening his mouth “like an ass” to get his adenoids sliced out, without anesthesia or numbing agents of any kind. Shudder!

Commit these standards to memory. Not only because they’ll make you a better writer, but also so you can call me out when I don’t follow them myself.

*I realize I did this type of recap for my Barcelona trip. Whoops. I’m bored just thinking about it.

Instead of writing a super-boring, super-detailed, drawn-out account of the entire race, I’ll just mention a few important details.

The wind. I complained about the gusts in Hartford, but holy God, they were nothing compared to the headwinds we faced yesterday. I’d say we were running into wind for approximately a quarter to a third of the course, and it was blowing at 20-30 mph. Seriously.

The fog. Again, not constant, but from miles 5 through 13, we were pretty much running in a cloud. I’ll borrow a photo from Challenger Monica Nguyenduc to illustrate this point:

Hurricane Point. The 2.2-mile hill I didn’t get to run last year was pretty much exactly what I expected: long and blustery. Nothing like running two miles, uphill, then rounding a bend and getting blasted by even-stronger wind during your last push to the top. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see much from the top due to the fog.

Negative splits. I planned to run conservatively through Hurricane Point and then make a plan depending on how I felt. I felt great, but I didn’t want to go too crazy, too soon. I ran with one guy for the first 18 miles, then he dropped off to “get in the zone” and I pushed ahead. I passed so! many! people! in the last 10K, which is a great feeling. The first half: 1:57:43; The second half: 1:48:01. And I averaged 8:05 pace for the last 4.2 miles, despite “D-Minor Hill at D-Major Time” at the mile 25 marker. (Brutal!)

Not wearing a watch. I intentionally left my watch at home so I couldn’t wear it during the race. I didn’t really miss it. I suspect knowing how fast I was going during some of the later miles may have intimidated me into slowing down.

The weirdest thing I saw. Around mile 14, two dudes had set up on the side of the road. One had a sound system blasting Musical Youth’s “Pass the Dutchie.” The other was dressed in an orange NASA jumpsuit and an alien mask, posing for photos with runners. Forget the scenery: I most wished I had a camera at this moment.

I’d like to run Big Sur again, hopefully on a clearer day with better views. I’m saving that for whenever it is I manage to qualify for Boston, so I can do the Boston 2 Big Sur program. (Special jacket! Special medal! I want those things!) And based on how well I did on this hilly course on a challenging day, I’m thinking my BQ chances are better than they’ve ever been.

Last July, I got a job that requires me to write pretty regularly, and much of that writing is done in WordPress. In the last month or so, with the launch of our News blog and the ramping up of Boston coverage, I’ve been writing several posts each day.

To say I am tired of looking at WordPress by the time I leave work is an understatement. Other things I am usually tired of by the time I get home:

• Being in front of a computer
• Using my brain
• Not wearing sweatpants

I love my job, but since blogging has become such a large part of it, I have little to no desire to do it outside of office hours. I’d rather spend my time reading magazines, or watching Netflix, or interacting with other living beings (i.e. my boyfriend, Nermal, my friends who still live in the Lehigh Valley).

So, for the time being, at least, I’m going to be taking a “time out,” Zack Morris style, from this blog.

Phew. Now that I’ve announced this, I can stop feeling guilty for my lack of updates…right?

Immediate (and important) disclaimer: I do not want to have a baby any time soon.

However, this still bothers me. Having-the-babies is a normal function of the female human body. If running-the-marathons makes it so you can’t have-the-babies…maybe my “healthy” hobby (and my related “healthy” goal of eventually completing 50 marathons in 50 states) is not so healthy after all.

On the same note, I’ve had some issues with amenorrhea (TMI?), likely brought on or exacerbated by my running. I’m planning to bring this up with my doctor, and I suspect she will say something like, “What are you eating?” (It’s often associated with anorexia.) And I will say something like, “Well, last night I ate an amazing cheeseburger.” (Because I love cheeseburgers and eat them regularly.)

My order from Beefy King in Orlando. That cup holds a cherry milkshake. (Not pictured: The fruits and vegetables I do, on occasion, consume.)

I most certainly don’t have an eating disorder, nor do I have any kind of exercise addiction. I just like to run, and I like to have goals and tackle new challenges.

But, I also like to have a healthy, fully-functioning body. If I have to choose between the two, that one’s going to win.

Then get ready to soar above the castle grounds as you join Harry Potter™ and his friends on an unforgettably thrilling adventure, coming face-to-face with an array of magical creatures! This amazing new attraction uses groundbreaking, state-of-the-art technology (and a little magic) to create a one of a kind ride experience.

What this really means: It will be dark, and things will jump out at you.

Before the terror, with the conductor of the Hogwarts Express.

Long-term readers may recall from my last trip to Orlando that I’m not really fond of things jumping out at me in the dark.

The things that jump out at you include: A dragon, who breathes “fire” as you’re hit with a blast of warm air; Aragog, the giant spider, who spits water at you; and a group of dementors, Grim-Reaper-like creatures who “suck out your soul” (i.e., the room gets all cold).

By the time the dementors showed up, I’d shut my eyes and was screaming like I’d just seen…well, a giant spider. I’d had enough being startled for one ride, thanks.

So, that being said, I will admit that I may have yelled a spell from the books in order to get the dementors to buzz off. (It worked! …but only because Harry Potter appeared just seconds after I cast the spell to cast the same one. Expecto patronum, indeed!)

Still, the flying simulation portion of the ride was amazing, and despite my terror, I’d go on it again. (Perhaps I’d even keep my eyes open the second time around.)

The Harry Potter park as a whole exceeded my expectations. I felt like I was in the movie. (Not the books–I’d envisioned Hogsmeade and Hogwarts a bit differently–but this was still amazing.) It was super-detailed: The ATM even had a sign that said “Gringotts Automated Teller Machine” over it. And I drank a butterbeer from a commemorative cup:

Tastes like cream soda.

I’ll save the rest of the trip for a different post. This particular day, specifically the part of the day spent in the Wizarding World, was one magical highlight.

I’m heading to Orlando tomorrow for a week with my mom, but that’s far from the only travel plan in my future.

I hope this hotel has a sweet fake beach with hammocks like the one I stayed in last year.

The following weekend, I’ll be in Boston for St. Patrick’s Day. (Crazy party? I hope so.) The following weekend is St. Douglas Day, sure to be even more epic than last year. The following weekend, I’m going to Atlantic City to run a half-marathon, and that takes us into April.

I have two work trips in April–to Boston, and to Big Sur, for the marathons. In May, I’ll be going into Philly (and possibly Brooklyn) for a few concerts, and spending Memorial Day weekend in Vermont. In June, I’m planning a week in the Outer Banks.

Florida, Massachusetts, New Jersey, California, New York, Vermont, and North Carolina? Surely that is the greatest number of states I’ve ever visited in the first half of a year, in my entire life.

So apologies in advance for rare posting, though I’m sure when I do post, I’ll at least have something to report.

That book, The Lodge Cast Iron Cookbook, contains an entire chapter of cornbread recipes. An entire chapter! The photo for the Cornbread Supreme with Shrimp recipe caught my eye first–it’s topped with bacon!–but I figured the shrimp could be a potluck food-safety hazard. Instead, I made this:

Mrs. Loyd’s Mexican Cornbread (from The Lodge Cast Iron Cookbook)

1 1/4 cups self-rising cornmeal mix (I used a box of Jiffy Corn Muffin Mix)
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 cup milk
1/3 cup canola oil (I used vegetable oil)
1 8 1/4 oz can creamed corn
3/4 cup shredded cheddar
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1/2 green bell pepper, seeded and diced
2 small hot chiles, seeded and diced (I used serranos–jalapeño is just more fun to say)

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Grease (I used butter–mmm) a 10 1/2 inch square cast iron skillet. (Mine is 10 inches and round. Still worked fine.)
2. Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl until well blended. Pour the batter into the greased skillet and cook on the bottom rack until browned, about 30 minutes. (Mine took a smidge longer. Keep an eye on it.) Makes 8 large slices.

I loathe the word “moist,” but it’s the first adjective that comes to mind when you’re eating this. It’s got a little kick, but it’s not too overpowering. It went nicely with the chicken tacos my coworker brought in, and it made me nostalgic for Alto Cinco, the best Mexican restaurant in Syracuse, which serves jalapeño cornbread with all its burritos.

Next on my to-make list: the Cornbread Supreme with Shrimp. I’ll just have to make that when I can eat it all up right away.

Unfortunately, I haven’t had much time to plan what we’ll do, outside of the obvious day or two at Disney and day or two at Universal Studios (with plenty of time reserved for The Wizarding World of Harry Potter).

I shall return to Epcot to admire all the flowers.

So, I’m in search of suggestions, specifically shopping and eating ones. Anyone?

“You will never run a 50-miler like I will never get a dog!” –Tish Hamilton, my coworker who is driving out tonight to pick up a cockapoo puppy

Tish tweeted earlier today about the JFK 50 Mile Run, how it’s the perfect 50-miler for a first-timer.

I’ve entertained the notion of an ultramarathon before, but I was thinking more along the lines of a 50K. (That’s about the shortest race distance that’s longer than a marathon.)

I Googled the JFK 50 anyway, and I learned that this year is its 50th anniversary. Hmm. That probably means cool shirts and cool medals. And, last year, the “A” qualifying standard for women was a 4:30 marathon. I have six sub-4 marathons under my belt. It’d be nice to feel like one of the “fast” people for a change.

But really, why on earth am I considering this? This race would likely take me at least nine hours. Nine hours! Of running! That’s crazy-talk. I don’t like running that much.

I know, deep down, that I’m only considering this because I like to do impressive things. And honestly, running marathons doesn’t feel all that impressive anymore. I’ve run six of them now, and even when I’m completely miserable for the bulk of the race, I can no longer take too much satisfaction in just finishing.

The Empire State Building Run-Up? I had never done anything like that before, and it sounded uniquely crazy. I was excited to just finish. And this 50-miler, if I did, in fact, manage to finish, would please me in the same way. (It would just take approximately 8 hours and 43 minutes longer.)

I don’t know. Tish says you don’t have to train all that much more for one of these, but she regularly trains a lot more than I do (i.e. 6-7 days/week, 40-55 miles/week versus my 4-5 days/week, 30-50 miles/week during marathon training).

I am at least going to check out the registration guidelines for this year’s race when they’re updated March 1.

Footnote: Someday I will return to blogging about topics other than running. I promise. Stick with me, non-runners.

I avoid secluded trails and paths when running in the wee hours, so a whole lot of my routes take me past the McDonald’s near one of the busiest intersections in town.

The number of times I’ve nearly been run over on the sidewalk where people enter and exit that McDonald’s far exceeds the number of times I’ve nearly been run over anywhere else.

People must really love their Egg McMuffins.

It alarms me how many cars are lined up in that drive-thru every morning. Sure, the coffee is only 89 cents (for any size!). Sure, breakfast sandwiches are delicious. Sure, you don’t even need to get out of your vehicle.

But breakfast is arguably one of the easiest meals to make at home–I’ve been doing it since middle school–and starting your day with McDonald’s sets a certain tone for the rest of the day. A bad tone. Plus, it’s gotta be faster to chow down a bowl of cereal before you leave the house than it is to wait in that infinite drive-thru line.

I enjoy the occasional breakfast sandwich, for certain, but I save them for weekend mornings when I’ve stayed out too late (and consumed too many beers) the night before. (“I already feel disgusting. Might as well make it worse!”) Unless there’s an exceptionally high concentration of alcoholics in my small town, it’s hard to explain why this McDonald’s is so bustling on weekdays before 8 a.m.

And weekday-morning McDonald’s customers don’t seem to sympathize much with runners like myself. On other parts of my route, drivers yield to pedestrians on the sidewalk or in a crosswalk. Not in front of the McDonald’s.

I frequently run behind cars blocking the sidewalk as they wait to turn out, and the driver, facing the other way, hasn’t even considered the possibility that someone might be running or walking. (“Don’t you have a car?”) Drivers trying to enter will see you, assume you’re going to stop, and gun it to turn in in front of you and make it to the drive-thru 10 seconds earlier than they would have if they’d waited for you to pass.

I especially enjoyed the guy who sped up to turn in front of me into the exit. That was my closest call, as I wasn’t even looking for someone coming in the wrong way.

I guess I shouldn’t underestimate the willingness of fast-food junkies to run me over if it gets a paper bag full of grease, salt, and carbs into their hands sooner.