A little bit about the rally:
I had a fantastic time watching in awe as people of every nationality, religious faith, age and soocio-economic status cheered Mr. Obama on last night. I couldn't get over the fact that a center that's usually packed for entertainers and sports figures was that way for a man who is neither.
Beyond that, it was rather touching to see older generations wipe away tears as an unrealized dream unfolded in front of their eyes. Many will say that Obama's black supporters are voting for him because of their racial commonality. That may be a true statement. But considering that most blacks (particularly older ones) never thought they'd see an even like last night's in their lifetime, you have to be a bit empathetic. And unjudging, too. As many debates as my mom and I have had over race, for one night we were on the same page, tearing up as 19,000 people cheered that man on. It was pretty bonding for me.
The wait to get in the Toyota Center, however, was a different story. While waiting in the e-ticket line, I was engrossed in people watching. My mom was on the phone at times and trying to find a way in with the blue ticket holders at others. I knew we were in for a long wait, but once I heard a male voice purr, "Excuse me," that wait shifted to eternity. When I turned to see who the voice belonged to, I found myself facing a well dressed man. Sharkskin suit. Golden brown skin tone. And looked like he was pushing 40 years.
Let me back up a bit. As an active member of Houston's community, I'm usually around men and women who are about 10+ years older than me. It's always made me feel more mature and poised. This only becomes a problem when I attract men. It's not that I have a fear of men. I have a fear of men who are old enough to be my older brother, or worse ,my dad. There's got to be an age limit, sirs. Besides, I always imagine having the conversation in which I say, 'I can't. I'm Mormon,' and how badly that may end. The Southern gentleman knew none of that, obviously. But I wasn't about to explain it.
Needless to say, I humored him with some charm-talk, took his card and gave him mine. Now he won't stop calling.
I have GOT to learn how to politely say no.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
A Chip Off the Old Block of History
There's a lot I could say about last night's Obama rally, but I can't find the words. I'll just let Chron.com do it for me.
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/politics/5554729.html
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/politics/5554729.html
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Why I Should Never Have A Blog.
Seriously. I shouldn't. In the day to day of my week life, I'm in front of a computer at least 65% of that time. That gives me plenty of time to work, stalk Facebook, and do as much browsing on LDS.org, TMZ, People, EW, and MTV as I'd like. I do ALL of this, but actually typing what I do when I'm not being a computer monkey is about as entertaining as getting a root canal.
That said, life's been pretty interesting in the past month or so since my last entry.
I had an amazing first by completing the Aramco Half Marathon, part of the Chevron Houston event. When a good friend asked me to compete with her back in September, I agreed partially because I knew she'd be there with me to train. April and I peeled ourselves out of bed at 5AM for the next two months to do sprint drills and run in Memorial Park. I was satisfied with the progress we were both making--until I rolled my ankle. I took a week off from running. That week turned into a month. By the time I ran again it was Thanksgiving and April had abruptly moved to Salt Lake City.
During my month long hiatus, I went back to weight training, my first love. While rekindling my affair with weights, I kept having some major doubts: When can I run again? Will I be able to compete? What if my ankle doesn't heal properly? I've been a sprinter since middle school, but distance running is something I've never tackled, so I felt I had a right to be apprehensive. The funny thing is, I didn't make the decision to run until 6 days before the event.
I've never been the type of person to go down without a fight. Whether that's a good or bad thing is anyone's guess. With this, I started to get a sinking feeling that if I didn't at least try to get through that day, I'd totally be shorting myself. So with my godsister's "good luck" basket, my uncle's tips and training watch (he's a veteran marathoner), and a big pasta dinner the night before with friends, I nervously got up that Sunday morning.
The 2 hours, 20 minutes and 24 seconds I ran was nothing but a huge test to myself. I had only gotten up to 6.5 miles in training, and to see if I could make it beyond that was ballsy, if I do say so. I had a plan to run the first 6, walk for at least a mile, and then pace the rest of the run. By the time I saw that giant 6 mile flag, my legs were well warmed up and I thought I'd be okay if I stuck to my plan. But I honestly couldn't stop running. Even after I grabbed my Gatorade and water, my legs weren't ready to quit. My mind eventually agreed it shouldn't quit either, and I didn't stop until I jogged across the finish line.
My parents, heaven bless them, had rolled out of bed to catch the 7:10AM start, had watched the race in the cold, and got text message updates on my progress. They never saw me run across the finish, but when I found them in the reunion area, it was just as sweet.
I live for moments to say "I did that", no matter how hard it may have been. The only hard part about running a marathon or half is knowing that you can't let yourself down. When I was done, I was happy it was over, really ready to eat, and thankful that my family had been there to hug me...and feed me lots of pasta.
I'm looking forward to running the full marathon next year and have already stared some light training before I get into the heavy stuff by April. I figure if I can do that much work for 13 miles, nothing should stop me from doing a little more to complete 26.
My latest challenge is coming in the form of work. When I blurt the words, 'I'm a Dealer Successor' to most people, I get a blank stare. So breaking it down a bit: I work for an automobile dealer. The dealer happens to be my father, the franchise is Chrysler & Jeep, and at some point, the business could be mine. That doesn't come without an amount of work, sacrifice, and proving yourself worthy of being nominated for the National Automobile Dealers Association program.
Sometime last year I decided I'm going to work finance management--with or without my dad's franchise. I've done some things here and there that have upped my chances of being sent into the program, but what I'm working on now is major turning point.
In March, I meet with 19 other Chrysler-Jeep dealers in what's called a "20 Group". The dealer body prepares their individual progress for the quarter, presents it, and the body conferences on the information for 3 days. I've been to the Group's meetings for the past year as an escort and learning ear to my dad. This time, I'm doing the work by myself. Add the factor of being the youngest dealer and only female, and you've got a recipe for "Ashley's First Solo Meeting". The upside? The dealers usually meet in beachfront areas or major cities to relax in once the stress of daily conference is over. I'm packing my green bikini and hoping to get some fun time in Florida.
I've already started preparing the documents I know well, and resourcing on what I don't.
When I return, I'm sure I'll have had a heck of an adventure to recap and hopefully write about.
So until then, take care.
--Ash--
That said, life's been pretty interesting in the past month or so since my last entry.
I had an amazing first by completing the Aramco Half Marathon, part of the Chevron Houston event. When a good friend asked me to compete with her back in September, I agreed partially because I knew she'd be there with me to train. April and I peeled ourselves out of bed at 5AM for the next two months to do sprint drills and run in Memorial Park. I was satisfied with the progress we were both making--until I rolled my ankle. I took a week off from running. That week turned into a month. By the time I ran again it was Thanksgiving and April had abruptly moved to Salt Lake City.
During my month long hiatus, I went back to weight training, my first love. While rekindling my affair with weights, I kept having some major doubts: When can I run again? Will I be able to compete? What if my ankle doesn't heal properly? I've been a sprinter since middle school, but distance running is something I've never tackled, so I felt I had a right to be apprehensive. The funny thing is, I didn't make the decision to run until 6 days before the event.
I've never been the type of person to go down without a fight. Whether that's a good or bad thing is anyone's guess. With this, I started to get a sinking feeling that if I didn't at least try to get through that day, I'd totally be shorting myself. So with my godsister's "good luck" basket, my uncle's tips and training watch (he's a veteran marathoner), and a big pasta dinner the night before with friends, I nervously got up that Sunday morning.
The 2 hours, 20 minutes and 24 seconds I ran was nothing but a huge test to myself. I had only gotten up to 6.5 miles in training, and to see if I could make it beyond that was ballsy, if I do say so. I had a plan to run the first 6, walk for at least a mile, and then pace the rest of the run. By the time I saw that giant 6 mile flag, my legs were well warmed up and I thought I'd be okay if I stuck to my plan. But I honestly couldn't stop running. Even after I grabbed my Gatorade and water, my legs weren't ready to quit. My mind eventually agreed it shouldn't quit either, and I didn't stop until I jogged across the finish line.
My parents, heaven bless them, had rolled out of bed to catch the 7:10AM start, had watched the race in the cold, and got text message updates on my progress. They never saw me run across the finish, but when I found them in the reunion area, it was just as sweet.
I live for moments to say "I did that", no matter how hard it may have been. The only hard part about running a marathon or half is knowing that you can't let yourself down. When I was done, I was happy it was over, really ready to eat, and thankful that my family had been there to hug me...and feed me lots of pasta.
I'm looking forward to running the full marathon next year and have already stared some light training before I get into the heavy stuff by April. I figure if I can do that much work for 13 miles, nothing should stop me from doing a little more to complete 26.
My latest challenge is coming in the form of work. When I blurt the words, 'I'm a Dealer Successor' to most people, I get a blank stare. So breaking it down a bit: I work for an automobile dealer. The dealer happens to be my father, the franchise is Chrysler & Jeep, and at some point, the business could be mine. That doesn't come without an amount of work, sacrifice, and proving yourself worthy of being nominated for the National Automobile Dealers Association program.
Sometime last year I decided I'm going to work finance management--with or without my dad's franchise. I've done some things here and there that have upped my chances of being sent into the program, but what I'm working on now is major turning point.
In March, I meet with 19 other Chrysler-Jeep dealers in what's called a "20 Group". The dealer body prepares their individual progress for the quarter, presents it, and the body conferences on the information for 3 days. I've been to the Group's meetings for the past year as an escort and learning ear to my dad. This time, I'm doing the work by myself. Add the factor of being the youngest dealer and only female, and you've got a recipe for "Ashley's First Solo Meeting". The upside? The dealers usually meet in beachfront areas or major cities to relax in once the stress of daily conference is over. I'm packing my green bikini and hoping to get some fun time in Florida.
I've already started preparing the documents I know well, and resourcing on what I don't.
When I return, I'm sure I'll have had a heck of an adventure to recap and hopefully write about.
So until then, take care.
--Ash--
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