Thinking Back

Exactly six months ago today—May 15, 2011—I sustained the worst injury of my running career. My plantaris tendon ruptured and took my medial gastroc and soleus muscles down in flames with it six miles into the Cleveland Half Marathon. If you didn't already know, I finished the race. "Did Not Finish" was not an option.

Mile eleven, in excruciating pain, but so happy I got to see the Redhead!

Following a diagnostic ultrasound in early June, I was ordered into Frankenboot. At least Redhead and I got to be miserable together, though my relationship with the boot was more of a short-term fling while hers was long-term and serious.

It's the fashion statement of the summer! All the cool chicks have one.

I embarked on physical therapy after I was released from Frankenboot purgatory. In mid-August I took my first running steps since the day I was injured three months earlier. I did the Run for the Rolls on August 27 and celebrated running one mile totally pain-free. I finished physical therapy at the end of September, turned loose into a Michigan fall. I have run three races since then: the Big House Big Heart in Ann Arbor, the Parkview Pumpkin Run (Columbia City, Indiana), and just this past weekend, the Ann Arbor Turkey Trot in Dexter. All three were 5Ks. All three exceeded 30 minutes. All three I ran with the Engineer. I'm slower than I have ever been.

The Redhead and I have made a habit over the past six weeks of walking together at a nearby park during the work week. We have watched trees clad in red and gold shed their leaves, gradually snowing in the path with drifts of brown which crunch beneath our feet. The forest unclothed, every twig and branch exposed, the dry and dirty smell of decaying leaves, the squirrels noisily rummaging on the ground, the birds in the bushes, the rumble of the freeway just hidden from view...Our lunchtime strolls at Lillie Park will continue until the weather makes it impossible to be outside. We have been fortunate thus far, but we know that winter is coming. (It snowed last Thursday.) On days when we are unable to meet, I walk by myself on a 2.5-mile loop starting at my office. It's not as pleasant as the trail through Lillie Park—it's primarily on the sidewalk next to a busy road—but it does have its own (albeit brief) woodsy charm.

Cranbrook Park trail, short but scenic

I am climbing out of the deep hole I dug with my weight gain and hiatus from running. I still have a long way to go if I want to have anything close to the speed and stamina (not to mention the physique) I had two years ago. Rejoining Weight Watchers last month was a huge step in the right direction; I have lost 10 lbs of the 50 I hope to lose.

Finally, tomorrow evening I am going to sit in a movie theater for four hours and watch a rebroadcast of a Metropolitan Opera performance from a couple of weeks ago. The opera is one that is very dear to me: Mozart's Don Giovanni, in which I performed in 2008 and from which I can sing three arias. This is one of them.

Hope Springs Eternal

For the past two days I have taken walks in the afternoons as I try to shake off an annoying respiratory virus I picked up over the weekend. I feel okay, but I keep coughing up globs of mucus, which isn't pleasant. Walking has gotten me out of the house for exercise; additionally, the weather this week has been lovely and it seemed a shame to while away the hours after work indoors. On my perambulations around town I have made two observations:

One: walking takes forever. My three mile loop dragged on and on and I felt like I would never finish. Running is so much more efficient at getting me from point A to point B!

Two: I notice more when I go slowly. I passed a twig dangling over the path behind the hospital and to my delight I saw the first sure sign of spring:

A LEAF BUD! A LEAF BUD!

Yes, folks who live in warmer climes, we still have no leaves on the trees here. Most of the trees, in fact, don't even have buds. The woods are as bare and transparent as they were in January. This is how it goes in Michigan.

We had a brief blast of summer style temperatures on Sunday, however. It got up to 82 degrees that afternoon. I went running Sunday morning at my parents' and it was 50 degrees. By the time I got home to Michigan it was above 80. I wasn't ready for the warmth. I was wrinkled and sweaty from being in the car, and my house was stuffy. I slept poorly Sunday night, tossing and turning on crumpled sheets in a room that was 10 degrees warmer than it had been in months. Having cats piled up against me like driftwood didn't help, either.

Fortunately things have gone back to normal and nighttime temperatures are back where they should be, i.e. the 30s. Much better. I can curl up in my down comforter again.

My farm share starts in seven weeks. I am so excited. Fresh asparagus and spinach and turnips, oh my!

One year ago I was making final preparations for my trip to Boston for the marathon. This year, I am not going back, and I find myself nostalgic for what was and slightly jealous of those who are running again. Boston was such an incredible experience. I want to run there again, no, I say I will run there again. Someday.

This Saturday the Engineer and I are attending a performance of Mozart's The Magic Flute at the Detroit Opera House. I am super excited as you all know how much I love opera, especially anything by Mozart. I know more Mozart arias than any other composer. I taught myself how to sing "Der Holle rache" long ago, high F and all, but I can't sing it like Diana Damrau.

Thursday Thoughts: Let's Eat!

Some of you may be aware that in addition to my running blog I have a food blog, Una Buona Forchetta. After a flurry of posting when I started it in 2008, my updates became few and far between. I posted to my food blog twice in 2010; the last post was in April.

I have no excuse for neglecting to post more frequently, however, because I have received a boot to the rear, or, as my advisor from grad school would have put it, I've had "a fire lit under my ass," in the form of two externally-based motivators.

One is the Spice Rack Challenge, a monthly food challenge for 2011 organized by my friend and fellow Michigan Lady Food Blogger MK. I posted my response to this month's challenge ingredient, rosemary, earlier this week. My first food blog post in 9 months! Joining the Spice Rack Challenge will guarantee I have at least 12 posts to my food blog this year.

The second is my being featured on The Athlete's Plate today. I was nominated for this week's feature by the Redhead, who had her own menu last week. I now have six meals (both full and snack) created for me by Jason, who mined my blog for inspiration and ideas. It is not a surprise, then, to find I have "kitty litter" granola and pizza (and beer!) as two of my menu items. I will be making and posting recipes from my Athlete's Plate to my food blog, starting with the granola, because I have long suspected homemade granola will be better than anything store-bought, and my breakfast routine has suffered from same-thing-every-day disease. Thank you, Redhead and Jason, for the delicious honor!

In other news:

It's cold here. How cold? Well, how does a high temperature of 14*F tomorrow sound? Bleah. This is "scurry from office to car and car into house" weather for me.

Last Sunday I attended a recital performance in Ann Arbor by soprano Renée Fleming. I indulged in a single extravagantly-priced ticket which landed me seven rows from the stage and smack in the center. I could not have been more perfectly placed for optimum aural and visual satisfaction. The woman may be almost 52 years old and has been hammering on her voice for over 30 years, but she sounded fabulous. I soaked up every shattering high note and tender pianissimo like a dry sponge, choked up a little during one of the encores, and drove home while listening to (and singing along with) her Mozart arias CD. Ach ich liebte, wär so glücklich!

Run Like the Dickens 5K...and more

This morning I went up to Holly to run in what was most likely my last race of 2009: the Run Like The Dickens 5K. It was a fairly chilly 15 degrees when I arrived at the race venue, and I spent some time huddled in my car after getting my race number before doing a 15-minute warmup. I flaked out on both of my racing opportunities last weekend, a failure which was easier to swallow because I had not preregistered for either race. This one, however, I registered for earlier this week, so my primary motivation was not to let my entry fee go to waste. Oh and that silly goal I set for myself of running at least one race every month of 2009.

I wasn't anticipating a fast time; I just wanted to have an evenly-paced, smart race. Miles 1 and 2 were both 7:35. Excellent. My stupid hamstring injury flared up again out of nowhere , which forced me to alter my form, but I decided I wasn't going to let it slow me down and I barreled through the pain. Mile 3 was 7:39, and I finished with a chip time of 23:44. The post-race food spread was...unreal. Instead of bagels, bananas, and granola bars, this was a line of folding tables groaning under the weight of holiday goodies:

And this was after some containers had been cleared away, plus there was another table behind me!

I hung around to see if I had accomplished anything in my age group, and to my surprise, I placed first! I received a rather nice mug for my efforts:

Enjoying coffee out of my age group award.

After a quick shower and clothes change at home, I went to Ann Arbor for the annual Community Handel's Messiah Singalong. This was an informal gathering of musicians from the area, both orchestra and singers, who join together for the enjoyment of wonderful music. Three hours of singing and my voice was like warm butter. I came home, rested my voice by reading the newspaper, and then sang some opera. I produced my single best high E flat ever at the end of "Spargi d'amaro pianto," a note so ringing and gorgeous I burst out with a "holy shit!" when I was done. However, I could feel my voice getting fatigued and I knew I wanted to record myself before it went totally down the drain. Therefore, I give you: me. Never before heard on this site. Please be kind (of course all I hear are mistakes...)

"Eh parti..." recitative from Mozart's Cosi fan tutte

The great end cadenza of "Nei giardin del bello," from Verdi's Don Carlo, in which you can hear the truncated end of me saying "God dammit!" as I completely mess up the words, and then an exasperated sigh.

Opera Can be Hazardous to one's Driving Record

Last night I was on my way home from Ann Arbor (where I had been to see "Julie & Julia"). I was motoring west along I-94 to Chelsea and I had the Met Opera station cued up on Sirius. I was really rocking "Glitter and be Gay" and I got to the end where I was supposed to hit a high E flat, and my voice totally cracked with a screech. I stopped, composed myself, and then sang the the ascending line to the E flat again except when I got to the note I shifted my palate and pushed most of the air into my sinuses. The back of my throat was lifted impossibly high, but it worked and I got the note out, with vibrato, even. Hello whistle register! Emboldened by this feat (it's been a long time since I cranked out a high E flat) I sang the closing line of the aria several times, getting the feel of the notes, making slight adjustments to my jaw and palate to improve the quality of the sound, not that there's much one can do that far above the staff. That's essentially "grip it and rip it" territory. Things are apt to happen one doesn't have control over. The breath takes on a life of its own. I just go along for the ride.

Anyway. So I was really getting into it and I was not paying attention to anything else...and that's when the spotlight and pretty lights came on behind me. State trooper alert! I just sighed and thought, "well, it was bound to happen again some time." I have gotten pulled over for speeding so many times that it just doesn't faze me any more. I pulled off on the shoulder and waited for the inevitable. The officer came to the passenger-side window and rapped on it with his flashlight (omg it's like I'm on an episode of COPS!). This is what ensued:

"Good evening, ma'am. May I have your license, registration and proof of insurance?"

I fumbled all of these documents together and handed them to him in a little bundle.

"Do you know why I pulled you over tonight?"

"I was probably speeding." personal rule #1: just admit it. we all know what's going on here.

"That's correct. Do you have any idea how fast you were going?"

"Um...probably around 80 mph?" personal rule #2: don't even bother pretending I don't know how fast I was going. I ALWAYS know how fast I'm going. except when I get really wrapped up in singing opera...

At this the officer burst out laughing. He said, ""I clocked you going 71...in a 60 mph construction zone."

"Oh dear..."

"How's your driving record?"

"Not good." personal rule #3: just admit this, too, because he'll find out as soon as he runs your license.

"When was the last time you got a ticket?"

"Four years ago." September 2005, on U.S. 141 South in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

"Where are you heading?"

"Chelsea." I was less than a mile from my exit, too!

"OK, well, just hang on and I'll be right back."

I immediately fired off a text message: "I just got pulled over for speeding."

The advice I got: "Cry."

I can't. I never have, even the first time I got pulled over. After so many speeding tickets I have found that the best tactic is to be affable, jovial, and honest. No silly sob stories, no barely believable excuses. (It doesn't hurt to smile, either.) If I get a ticket, so be it. It's not the end of the world. I've mostly reformed my ways since I acquired my Jetta in 2007 anyway.

The trooper was back. He was still chuckling. He handed my things back to me and said, "I'm going to let you go with just a warning tonight...80 mph...heh heh heh...This is a construction zone, you know."

"I know...I was just...singing opera and I got carried away!"

"Just be more careful, OK?" He was still laughing at me.

I merged back onto the freeway for the final mile to my exit and I was home five minutes later.

This has happened before on numerous occasions. Not the getting pulled over part, but the part where I'm singing an aria in the car and I look down and I'm going 90 MPH. It usually occurs when I sing something vocally challenging, such as "Glitter and be Gay" or "Come scoglio" or "Mi tradi quell'alma ingrata" or "Sempre libera," all of which require intense focus and effort. I tend to completely lose myself in the music. When I come to I realize I'm rocketing along the road and I can't remember driving the last two miles.

Singing opera arias in the car: as dangerous as a cell phone? Only a soprano knows for sure...

Hitting The High Notes

High note 1: Literally, a big fat high B-flat I dropped in the car on the way here as I was rocking out to "Come scoglio" (Mozart, Cosi fan Tutte). "Come scoglio" was the aria which started it all back in college. I remember those early, rather pathetic attempts I made to sing it...sigh. Oh, reckless, untrained youth!

High note 2: My pace run this morning, which was just perfect in every way. Perfect weather (30-ish degrees, no wind, no precipitation), perfect clothes (Jacket of Wonder and the tights component of the Stealth Bomber outfit), perfect tunes (Animal Collective's "Brotherspot" closed out the run) and most importantly, perfect pace: 8:25/mile for the 9 miles. Hells yeah. That's what I'm talking about. I felt so fucking good I did miles 8 and 9 in 8:18 and 8:13 respectively. Now, string together three of these and I'm on my way to Boston!

High note 3: In a few minutes I am heading off to watch the lovely Natalie Dessay rock a few high E-flats in Bellini's La sonnambula in high-def on the big screen. I just absolutely love going to these Met Opera broadcasts.

Thursday Thoughts: Writing Frightening Verse

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I'm miserable now...

I spent yesterday jotting down notes for things I wanted to say today. Because yesterday was Wednesday, and today is Thursday, and it's not Thursday Thoughts unless it's Thursday, y'know?

• During some Internet wandering the other day I found this.

  White people will train for months, telling everyone who will listen about how they get up early in the morning, they run when it rains, how it makes them feels so great and gives them energy.

• The sad part is that it's so true. And we all know it.
• I have something to do on Sunday afternoons again because the 2009 NASCAR season kicked off last Sunday with the Daytona 500. Let's go racing!
  
• I am trying, oh yes, trying very hard to break my department candy jar addiction. It's become like crack. My cubicle wastebasket is littered with candy wrappers by the end of the day. This habit is not good for my blood sugar nor my overall diet. I have decided I must wean myself off the chocolate teat. However, it is proving extremely difficult because the selection this week includes Twix and Heath bars, which are two of my favorites. Must. Stay. Strong. Resist the fun size candy¹!
  
• The New York Times is finally available for home delivery in my town. Many years ago when I lived in Ann Arbor I got the Times at my apartment. When I moved out to the sticks, that stopped, and for the last 8 years I have been waiting for the day when I could once again receive the Gray Lady on my doorstep. Apparently my town is no longer considered irretrievably rural, because as of yesterday I will be getting the Sunday Times delivered to my house. Oh, Sunday crossword, how I've missed thee! (I do it in pen, in case you were wondering.)
• I don't know why I waited so long to try it, but this morning I sang a little bit of opera (very pianissimo, mind you) in the shower at the gym. My gym has two very nice private shower rooms (they're nicer than my bathroom at home) so I wasn't serenading an entire locker room's worth of ladies with my rendition of "Deh vieni, non tardar" (Mozart, Le Nozze di Figaro). The acoustics proved to be scintillating as only a small tiled-lined box can be. I think I will do it more often. Maybe I can garner myself a reputation as "that chick who sings in the shower" at the gym.
  
• Speaking of music, I pulled Animal Collective's Merriweather Post Pavilion and Deerhunter's Microcastle off iTunes last week and MPP has been on near-constant repeat everywhere (office, car, gym) ever since. The teasing I got from "My Girls," "Brothersport," and "Summertime Clothes" was only the beginning. I haven't loved an album this much and so fast since Neko Case's Fox Confessor Brings the Flood three years ago. Additionally, I bought a ticket to see Animal Collective IN CONCERT in May (yes, the concert the day after the Cleveland Marathon; I hope my legs hold up). I am very excited as I have not been to a rock concert for a long time (incidentally, it was Neko Case at the Temple Club in Lansing in 2006 on her tour to support Fox Confessor). But first, even before AC, I am going to see the incomparable Andrew Bird at the Michigan Theater in Ann Arbor in early April. If there's one song of his that you must investigate, it's "Scythian Empires." Gorgeous. His new album, Noble Beast, came out January 20 and now that I think about it, WTF am I waiting for? I have to buy it...
  
• This week has been the Week of Non-Running, aka I'm Nearly Losing My Mind. After Sunday's near-disastrous and very painful long run (thanks to my running partner Fritz for putting up with my slow, gimpy ass and inability to complete the intended mileage), I decided to do the hard thing and not run this week, giving my IT band a chance to recover. It's now day four and I'M GOING FUCKING INSANE HERE, PEOPLE. I have been doing alternative forms of cardio at the gym but I crave the running, I need the running. Along with the elliptical, rowing machine, and stationary bike, I have been diligently doing my ITB exercises which I got from the doctor last week. My knee feels ever so much better, but then again I have not pounded on it since Sunday.
  
• FOAM ROLLER. I get it, OK? I'm going to buy one of my very own today. Then I can roll on my carpet at home while watching yet another rerun of "100 Greatest Songs of the 80s" on VH1 Classic.
• Along with the IT band meltdown on Sunday, I managed to break my just-over-a-month-old YakTrax:
  

Tragedy!

I was emboldened by Steve's post about his busted YakTrax to post my own sad story in the hopes that the kind folks at YakTrax will send me a replacement pair. I should confess, however, that the destruction was entirely my fault. I beat my feet against the pavement to bust off a wad of ice and snow which was interfering with my gait (which was fucked up enough already), and I guess the impact was too much for the wires to bear. Sproing! This event could not have come at a worse time since we are projected to receive three to five inches of snow on Saturday, and I was hoping to do a little (I said a little) running this weekend. I might be sentenced to dreadmill hell instead. That might not be a bad idea anyway, since if I feel my ITB start to quiver I can bail on the treadmill for the elliptical machine.

• Finally, this:

Yeah. Um...

I don't Twitter (I already have two blogs of my own and contribute to a third and I'm on Facebook² and that is quite enough, thank you) but this, from the comments, makes me squirm uncomfortably:

Do you have cravings to blog first thing in the morning?

Do you often think about how or when you will next be able to blog?

Has your blogging ever interfered with your personal life?

Has your blogging interfered with your health (loss of sleep, carpal tunnel syndrome, etc.)?

Is there any recurring time during the day when you find yourself thinking of blogging?

Do you try to overcome shyness or become more confident by blogging?

Do you find yourself pressuring other people to blog?

Have you gained a reputation as a blogger?

Has blogging increasingly become the central focus of your life?

Great. Not only do I need that iPhoneaholics Anonymous group, now I need Bloggers Anonymous as well?

We admitted we were powerless over blogging—that our lives had become unmanageable...

UPDATE: 1:45 pm. I managed to eat only half as many pieces of candy as I usually do with lunch. Two Milky Way Darks, one Heath, one Snickers, and one Kit Kat.

1: It's after 10:30 and I haven't had one piece of chocolate yet today. This is a small but important victory.

2: If you can find me there, I'll friend you. Unless you're one of those weirdos whom I know is resisting the siren call of Facebook. And you know who you are. But I love ya anyway. ;)

About Face

Saturday: I rocked my 6 mile pace run. The weather was perfect (if a bit breezy), the country roads mostly ice- and snow-free, the iPod was turned up loud and I listened to my Animal Collective playlist twice over. Following my successful pace run I spent three and a half hours listening to Anna Netrebko belt out high E flats (or at least she tried to belt out high E flats; she totally biffed it a couple of times but managed to pull one out at the very end of "Spargi d'amaro pianto"¹) in another live broadcast of the Met in HD (Lucia di Lammermoor) at a local movie theater. I went home, whipped up a quick dinner of green lentil soup, slammed a beer, and headed back to Ann Arbor to hear yet another vocal performance, this one by tenor Lawrence Brownlee. He totally rocked his rendition of "Ah! mes amis"² from Donizetti's La Fille du Régiment with its monumental nine high Cs (and then he did the cabaletta again as an encore). Thus, my Saturday was a perfect day, encompassing the four things I love most, as it says in my profile: running, opera, cats (because any time I sit down on my sofa, a cat jumps on my lap, and I was watching TV while I ate my soup), and cooking.

Sunday: I set out around 10:00 am for my 13-mile long run on my favorite country road loop. I intended to maintain an easy, relaxing pace of about 9:15 per mile and for the first 8 miles I did so successfully. I had my CamelBak on for hydration and Gu for refueling. 50 minutes in I stopped for my first Gu ingestion and when I began running again I felt...a strange twinge in my right knee. Ignoring it, I pressed on, and it faded. I had been farmer-blowing constantly throughout the run (that darn cold just won't go away) and somewhere around mile 7 I executed a full-body farmer blow (I felt like I lost half my brains) which caused a chain reaction of muscle contractions that resulted in my entire torso becoming a giant mass of knots and spasms. I tried every deep-breathing singing trick in my repertoire to ease the iron band around my ribcage but nothing worked. It felt like a fist twisting in my chest. I was well past the halfway point and was determined to finish though my pace was starting to fall off, drifting past 9:30. Then like an electric shock my knee just gave out, pain like a knife slice shooting up my leg, and I screeched to a halt, hopping on my left leg, hollering, "God damn what the hell!" I walked for a little bit and then started running/limping again. I had an opportunity to cut my run short and finish with 9 miles but I thought, "NO! You're almost done, just finish the damn miles!" (I am a slave to my training schedule.)

I plodded onward, intercostal muscles and diaphragm clenching, barely able to draw a breath, knee aching, grinding my teeth together. Miles 9, 10, 11 and 12 slid past as my pace continued slipping, 10:00, 10:15, 10:30...I was finally back in town with one mile to go and I was furious. I was mad because my iPod chose to play a song I didn't particularly like and I wasn't in a position to skip it, I was mad because my face was covered with errant snot-rocket residue, I was mad because I am not used to running that slowly and I could. not. make. myself. run. faster, I was mad because only the day before I had a really great run and now I was having the suckiest run of all time, and I was mad because my damn knee was in pain and I didn't know why. I was HOT, TIRED, and IRRITATED and I just wanted the whole stupid thing to be OVER ALREADY. The instant Garmy turned over to 13.00 miles I slammed the stop button and walked the rest of the way home. Actually, "shuffled" is a more apt description of what I did.

When I finally oozed in the door the only thing I could do was rip Garmy off my wrist, the headphones out of my ears, the CamelBak from around my waist, and lean wearily against the counter. The backs of my pant legs were splattered with mud from the glop on the roads, which I hadn't noticed until then. I felt like pond scuzz. Walking was difficult; my knee was singing in pain like Netrebko's high notes from the day before. When I finally made it upstairs to take a shower, I bent over to take my socks off and something in my knee went rrrrrrrrrrrip! and crunch! and I just thought, "Oh, NO." Hearing something like Rice Krispies emanating from one's body is never a good sign.

I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over my head and just laid there for a couple of hours, feeling beat up and bone-tired. When I got up my hair was a crazy nest because I had laid down while it was still wet from my shower. My torso still ached and the first couple steps I took almost brought me down as my knee sagged underneath me. Going downstairs was agony (I started hyperventilating from the pain) and I realized that I was probably going to have to...

...GO TO THE DOCTOR.

Which I will be doing on Thursday. I haven't been to the doctor for any reason since March 2008, and that was for a sinus infection. My preferred method of dealing with the various aches and pain I suffer as a runner is to ignore them. I figure they come with the territory. This is different. This isn't a black toenail (I've got one of those, too) or DOMS or frozen fingers. I've never had any knee problems. I do not need to tell y'all that I am terrified I will hear bad news. Like, "You have a partial tear of your lateral collateral ligament and you can't run for six to eight weeks" kind of news. Which would effectively kill my plans to attempt to BQ at Cleveland. I might still be able to run Cleveland, but that's all.

Dear god.

One day is wonderful, the next not so much.

Oh yeah, I found a wool Michigan hat lying in the road, amazingly free of dirt and mud, and I picked it up and brought it home and washed it. John thinks this is very strange and gross. I was like, "OMG free [awesome] hat!!" As long as I washed and dried it, what's the big deal? Thoughts? Have any of you ever found something on a run that you've brought home?

1: The aria in the clip is Natalie Dessay singing, not Netrebko. On a really good day when I'm fully warmed up I can nail the high E flat at the end. It's such a fun aria to sing even without the big glory note at the end.

2: That's Juan Diego Flores, whom I saw in that production in another Met in HD broadcast last April with the aforementioned Natalie Dessay. I know the subtitles are in German, but the text isn't the point. Just listen to the man (and look at him ;) ). My god!

L'ardir mio, la mia costanza

Yesterday afternoon I chose to drive around the block instead of going straight home because one of my favorite Mozart arias ("Eh parti...Per pietà" from Cosi fan Tutte) was playing on the Met Opera Sirius station and it was right at the end and I just had to sing the final lines with trill and high note. I'd been singing along since the recitative at the beginning and there was no way I was going to miss out on the money shot. (Trilling feels really good!)

If you watch/listen to the video...I sound like that. I'm not kidding (I picked this version out of the several I found on YouTube because this woman's voice sounds extremely similar to mine in coloring and timbre). I don't joke about my voice.

So why am I not a professional singer? There is nothing, and I do mean NOTHING, I would love to do more. It's been my dream since I was in college. So...well...yeah. I'm 34. I should have started taking voice lessons when I was 18, not 29. I should have gone to school for a degree in voice performance. Sopranos are a dime a dozen. So I soothe myself with singing when I can and continue dreaming.

Other stuff I can sing:
"Ruhe sanft, mein holdes Leben," Mozart
"Nei giardin del bello," Verdi. Shirley Verrett rocks and her rendition of this aria on a CD I bought in college is what made me fall in love with opera in the first place. This aria is fiendish, my friends, but oh so fantastic to sing. And that big note at the end? High A, and I rocked it at my recital two years ago.
"E Susanna non vien...Dove sono i bei momenti," Mozart. My favorite piece to sing of all time.