Over the river and through the woods...

Overall, I'm a pretty pathetic runner. I'm not fast, I'm prone to knee pain, and I'm mildly asthmatic, which makes running outdoors in the spring a bit of a challenge. My face also turns scarlet whenever I exercise, so I'm not going to be featured in race promo pictures any time soon. And that whole bit about southern girls "glistening"? Yeah, I sweat. It's a lovely package.

My second (and latest) race was back in February 2008, and I didn't embarrass myself--I'd pushed hard since October and taken myself from two-mile runs to a half-marathon, and I did it largely on my own. This, in retrospect, was poor planning; I got to know my aforementioned bad knees, and between the injury after the race and the impending Alabama spring, I stopped running. Eventually, I could squat again without bracing myself, but by that time, I had burned out. The tennis shoes went back in the closet.

I felt guilty about it--I had once entertained visions of marathoning--but with two jobs, freelance work, studying for the LSAT, applying to law school, and then actually going to law school, I pushed the guilt aside. I had no time (nor inclination, really) for the gym; the treadmill was boring, the track was obnoxiously short (and there's no parking at that gym), and outdoor running was impossible when the roads were covered in black ice. I took long walks back in the fall, but those ended as soon as classes began--and when I was doing seven- and nine-mile hikes through Charlottesville, my knees let me know about it.

And then, about a month ago, my sister came home with her Vibrams, and I got a pair as an early birthday gift. Yes, they're freakish, sock-like, and offer no support whatsoever, but the claims appear to be true thus far--I'm not hurting nearly as much as I did. Confident in my new footwear, I signed up for the Race Judicata 5K, reminding myself that I had done a whole lot worse than 3.1 miles. Over the next week, I wore my shoes everywhere, including on urban day walks and, to my poor mother's horror, classes. I ached in odd places and my feet protested, but I could manage the distance on the treadmill--there was nothing to worry about, right?

Cut to this morning, sunny and 45, perfect for a nice run around North Grounds. Part of the course was simple--up through Darden, out toward 250, around the Park, etc.--but the kicker was the long section of the course that followed the Rivanna Trail. Don't get me wrong, I like the occasional walk in the woods, but I'd not been down this section, and I wasn't sure exactly what I was in for. The organizers mentioned rocks and a run through the creek.

For the record, cross-country running is a very different animal from road running. On the plus side, grass and dirt feel great on impact. On the other hand, with road running, you complain about the asphalt and the grade, but off-road, you get into issues like roots and rocks in the path, sudden climbs, drops, and twists, and that little creek you get to ford. That said, my shoes performed admirably--I'm horrible on downhill treks because I tend to freak out at sudden descents, but for once, I could actually find my footing. My knees are just fine, my feet are only muttering, and the shoes are in the washing machine. (I will note, however, that running on large gravel in shoes with absolutely no padding is an...interesting...experience.)

In any case, I finished, I wasn't last, and I'm still a certified member of the 10-Minute Mile Club. It's humbling, realizing that the Charlottesville Marathon was yesterday and that I was struggling with this course (and that the winner today did it in 17 minutes), but then again, I'm out of practice, I'm not a cross-country runner, and I'm highly allergic to oak pollen. Still a better way to spend a morning than, say, outlining...

Fun with Outlining

The good news: I reviewed Con Law today, refreshed my memory as to a number pesky items like the Commerce Clause, and got my outline down to two pages.

The bad news: I have no idea how insane the final is going to be.

The worse news: The outline, situated at the outer limits of printable margins and in 6 pt. Times New Roman, takes up a full two pages. We still have two weeks of class to go, which includes things like partial-birth abortion, Lawrence v. Texas, and more topics in the Wonderful World of Modern Substantive Due Process. In short, the outline will have to be pared down even further, as I'm not sure that my eyes, even post-Lasik, can comfortably read 4 pt. text.

The bright spot: The study outline can be as long as I darn well like, and it now has lovely case charts. So there.

Last Hurrah

Finals begin on my birthday this year. Kind of like 2005, the year I turned 21.

Yeah, no one wanted to go out and play that night, either. (Thanks, awesome people who still came out to Anna Liffey's!)

With two weeks of class to go before the fun of finals is upon us (Again? I thought that was some sort of a sick prank pulled on first-semester 1Ls, kind of like the VMI Ratline...), it was nice to have a bright spot to look forward to today: Justice Scalia came for a lecture and a book signing.

I attended the lecture this afternoon--well, technically, I was in the CCTV room, watching the screen, laughing a bit too hard at the jokes, and playing the "Have We Covered This Case in Con Law?" game. As soon as his remarks were concluded, I grabbed my copy of Making Your Case and joined the stampede toward the auditorium, where those fortunate enough to have been able to sneak out of class and get tickets had seen Scalia in person.

As I was standing in the book-signing line, several thoughts went through my mind:
1) Wow, this line is long.
2) I hope no one notices my FitFlops. At least I'm wearing the nice pants and button-down.
3) Wait, that guy's in shorts. Okay, the shoes are fine.
4) Still glad I didn't wear the Vibrams today.
5) Man, I wish I had read this book before the brief and oral argument.
6) That guy has a wire coming out of his ear.
7) Oh look, another wire guy. And some cops. Yep, the security detail's all here.
8) And the security guys won't make eye contact or smile. Good to know.
9) What, exactly, does one say to Justice Scalia without sounding like an idiot? "You're my favorite" sounds more than a little trite. And creepy.
10) No, "I liked your dissent in Grutter" is also right out.

The line continued to snake toward the table, and the girls behind me and I decided that the second title page was the correct one for signing--as one of them noted, his name was on the page. Made sense.

Finally, my turn arrived. I smiled and said thank you. I slid my book across the table.

He looked up briefly, looked down at the page, sighed, "This page," and turned to the other title page.

I mumbled, "Yes, sir."

He signed it and slid it back across the table, said, "You're welcome," and I darted out of there before I could ask why the abortion cases were so darn convoluted.

And now that the visit is behind us, it's time to move on to more pressing matters, like my Con Law outline. One page, front and back, 8.5x11 or A4. It's going to be epic.