MadFridays

Some truly exciting news to announce! I am taking over as the new co-curator of the MadFridays Reading Series. MadFridays is sponsored by Carlow University and features the work of the Madwomen in the Attic. Readings take place typically on the second Friday of each month at Delanie’s Coffee in Southside.

I’m thrilled to be stepping into this new role alongside emcee Laurin, and looking forward to hearing the maddest writing readers have to offer!sig2

The Launch

One day before my 27th birthday, I celebrated the release of my first chapbook, Next to Everything that is Breakable (Finishing Line Press 2017) at the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh.

Over 50 of my friends, family, and colleagues came out to support me as I launched this chapbook into the world.

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The author & the artist.

Books were for sale, as well as artwork by my dear friend Catherine (who also took the photograph on the cover of the book).

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Catherine’s creations with my poems.

Around 2:30 p.m., people arrived to mingle and get refreshments. Shortly after 3 p.m. my mentor, Tess, welcomed the audience and introduced me.

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Tess & I.

I became overcome with emotion as I looked around the room and thanked those that had helped me so much, for I knew without them this endeavor would not have been possible.

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After the reading, I signed copies of books and spent precious, too-short moments with the guests- even my high school English teachers came!

It was an intense whirlwind of an event, but I’m thankful for how smoothly it went. Seeing the people I love come together to show their support for my passion was the highlight of my birthday weekend.

Check out some pictures below:

P.S. For those that were unable to make it to the launch party but would like a signed copy of the book, please message me!

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The guest book!

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Red Dog Reading Series

Stoked to announce that I’ll be reading *TOMORROW* Tuesday, February 14th, at Carlow University with the Red Dog Reading Series.

The Red Dog Reading Series is Carlow University’s undergraduate reading series open to the community and all universities.

Come out this Valentine’s Day- 7 p.m. until 8 p.m. in the Carlow University Commons, 2nd floor university space, and help share the love of poetry!

XOXO.

 

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Madwomen Book Party

Remember that time I joined the Madwomen in the Attic workshops at Carlow University? If you don’t, I wrote all about how excited (and nervous) I was, and about the class here.

Time does fly when you’re having fun. I have been a Madwoman for over a year now, and it’s one of the greatest chances I’ve taken on myself.

I’m thrilled to announce that on Friday, December 2nd, I will be reading  at the Madwomen Book Party from the anthology Voices from the Attic Volume XXII, where I have two poems published.

Here are the details:

Madwomen Book Party, Reading & Fundraiser

Voices from the Attic, Volume XXII
Friday, December 2nd, 2016
7:30 p.m.
Community Broadcast Center
90.5 WESA Studios
67 Bedford Square, South Side

 

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Hope to see you there!

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Wonderfall

Yesterday, November 6th, I brought my racing career (click here for details) full circle yet again with the Pittsburgh EQT 10 miler.

It was a gorgeous fall day for a run- a little chilly in the morning, but once my feet hit the pavement and the sun burst through the gray of morning, it was the perfect temperature. I ran for seven miles with a friend and truly understood how running with someone can be such a great therapy question. We talked about running and relationships, and before I knew it, the miles and number of bridges we’d run on had flown by!

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I had spent this past week submitting my work out to numerous publications, and began tracking my progress. The one certainty you can expect as a writer is rejection, and I was beginning to know it all too well.

You can imagine my surprise when I got an e-mail later in the afternoon stating that a literary magazine wanted ALL FIVE of the five poems I had sent to them. I was ecstatic that these poems finally got accepted, and it was a wonderful break to receive!

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So with that, I leave you with this image, and a reminder that “Autumn carries more gold in its pocket than all the other seasons.” I knew there was a reason it was my favorite.

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  Until next time,

I Am: A Marathoner

As of last year, only 1% of the U.S. population had run a marathon. On Sunday, September 11th, I became a part of that 1%.

It’s funny to think how I got to this point. Truth be told, I’m not really sure. I was never a runner. And then, one day, I just decided I wanted to be. I began running just two miles, increasing my distance until I was running half marathons. (Read more about my running journey here.) I was falling in love with the longer distance, but I still wasn’t sure if I was crazy enough to do a full marathon. I mean, 4+ hours of running?! WHY? HOW?

But then again, why not? I had already accomplished something I never thought I could. Maybe I could do this, too…

So, I signed up before I could change my mind. My original plan was to run the Pittsburgh marathon in May, but that came to a halt when I had my surgery. So I shifted my plans for a couple months later and set my sights on Erie, close to my hometown.

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Picking up my bib number on Saturday.

I was familiar with the course of the Erie marathon, as it’s held at Presque Isle State Park. I had run the Presque Isle half marathon in July of last year with my boyfriend- his first half marathon.  It was a flat, easy course- just one loop around the park. (For the marathon, obviously, it is two loops.) Looking back, my surgery causing me to change from Pittsburgh to Erie was all a blessing in disguise. Let’s be honest- the marathon distance is challenging enough without adding in all the hills! I was really grateful I was doing this flat loop instead of Pittsburgh’s killer course.

Don’t get me wrong, I still had my doubts. I knew this was going to suck. No matter how confident I feel in my training, or how much I understand that the race will go just fine, I always get pre-race jitters, every time. My long runs throughout marathon training had been extremely painful and discouragingly slow. I wasn’t worried my pace, or coming in under a certain time, or about anything else but just finishing. Still, my stomach was in knots that morning. I put body glide (a godsend) everywhere, under the straps of my sports bra, between my thighs, on the backs of my ankles, and quickly got dressed. I arrived when the park opened up around 5:30 AM. It was still pitch black when we parked. I started the walk to the porta potties, flashlight in hand. I’d go pee about 7 more times before the 7 AM start. Chalk it up to nerves or a weak bladder, or maybe both. While in line, I saw my friend Debra (pictured below), who was looking to beat her time to qualify for the Boston marathon.

Her, her boyfriend Frank, and I stood together as she said the most heartfelt prayer, just minutes before the gun went off. We said our goodbyes to the boys and headed to get lined up. Already, I could feel something much bigger washing over me. I was overcome with emotion. Pull it together. You can cry when it’s over, I told myself. Or during.

And then, before I could process it, I was off. I slipped into an easy 9:30 min./mile pace. I’d made a mental note to start out slow, as the energy and adrenaline from being part of a race and surrounded by other runners tends to make you start out too fast. I wanted to finish strong. Plus, let’s be real- I was gonna be out here for a while.

Around mile two, the sun began to show off. I could see the soft pink colors coming through as the clouds parted above the lake. The peaceful sounds of the waves coming into shore, the rhythmic pitter-patter of feet on asphalt… this was my happy place. It was indescribable.

Up in front of me, I saw a group of three women, probably in their 50s. They were keeping a solid pace, decked out in the brightest matching outfits. Dang, I thought. That’s remarkable. They were double my age and kicking ass! That’s #goals right there. After running alongside them, I joked, “I’ll just stick with you guys.” They smiled and said,”Feel free! We’re shooting for a 9:50 pace.”

Although I could very easily run a 9:50, all my long training runs had been so much slower. With the chest pain I was sure to encounter like I had before (thanks to my pacemaker) and the wall I was sure to hit around mile 18, I was certain I’d have to drop back after some time, and I told them so. But at least I could run with them for the time being.

“Coach” Barb, Sue, Tina, and Cheryl were from Rochester, NY. They were wives and mothers, teachers and longtime runners. And they were downright inspiring. Kind. And fun! The miles quickly passed as we talked about our different journeys with running, my surgery, who was cheering them on, and what we would treat ourselves to after this was all over.

Since the race was two loops around the park, I was able to see my boyfriend at mile 6.5. He ran out to me with a bottle of water, asking if I needed anything. The women assured him I was in good hands.

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Erie Marathon course.

Before I knew it, we had run a half marathon! With the steady flow of conversation, the miles flew by! It was a beautiful run- the crippling heat and humidity that we had been plagued with all summer disappeared to leave us comfortable at around 65 degrees with a cool breeze. We honestly lucked out with such great conditions.  My boyfriend met me again as I passed the halfway mark, with a gel in hand. I wasn’t a fan of them and, I’m ashamed to admit, had not used them during my training runs- although I had every intention to. The consistency made me gag. But I knew that I needed the energy, even if I felt good now. It was a strawberry kiwi carb BOOM, already torn open for me. I took it in small doses. It was surprisingly not that bad, I’d maybe even say it was good!

Soon we passed mile 15, then 16, and 17. They had water stations with Gu brew, and vanilla bean Gu gels. I made sure to keep hydrated, although between you and I, I’d had to pee since mile 4. Keep it together, bladder. Barb offered me a salt tablet, which helped. I checked my Garmin watch- it was almost 10 AM. I’d have to keep an eye out for my parents, sister-in-law, and niece, who were coming to watch me finish. As soon as I spoke those words out loud to the girls, I heard a familiar voice shout my name. There they were! They had driven past, and pulled off to the side up ahead around mile 19.5. My dad came out and ran beside me for a minute or two, which was a sweet moment. I was sure he was going to get kicked off the course, but he didn’t. My boyfriend was on my other side with a vanilla bean gel in hand, already opened for me.

They said encouraging words and then they were gone. I relucatantly began to take the gel. It was definitely not as great as the last one, and I struggled to get it down. I chased with water at the next stop. I still felt much better than I had anticipated at this point, but I was beginning to feel it. Sweat poured from every part of me. My face and body felt drenched in sweat and sticky Gu brew and gel residue. The tag on the inside of my shorts was rubbing against my lower back, and even though I’d used glide, my sports bra was rubbing against my right underarm. I knew I would have a bad chafing mark once this was done. Yet, we had made it past mile 18, with no “wall” to be found!

That is, until we reached mile 21. It came out of nowhere. I had been feeling hydrated, had energy from the gels, my legs were sore but still feeling strong, until that moment. I knew this was every bit (if not more) mental than it was physical. I tried to repeat the mantras in my head. My mind is an athlete. Finish strong. Your mind will give up before your body ever will. You can do this. Keep going. One foot in front of another. But with every step I took, I just felt that much weaker. That much closer to wanting to quit. I hadn’t walked once this whole time, maybe I could just take a break…but I didn’t. Tina and Sue kept running, and so did I. We were at mile 22. SO. CLOSE.

We began doing our dedication miles. I thought of Debra, who had no doubt finished by now. I hope she got her BQ. I thought of her strength and her faith, her gentle yet fierce nature, her prayer that morning. I thought of all the times she answered my endless running questions and was always patient and willing to help. I thought of how thankful I was that we went from coworkers to close friends. I looked up to her in every way.

“I need to slow down,” I said to Tina. “You guys keep going. I just need to slow down a little.”  She nodded breathlessly in agreement. “Me too.” 

I hated myself for it, but I also reminded myself I was not worried about time. And, I already was doing so much better than I could have hoped for! I stopped focusing on my pace and tried to switch my brain back over to dedication miles.

I thought of this day- September 11th. How I run because I know not everyone can, or ever will again. How if people can survive such terrible and awful things, I could no doubt finish this race before me.

I thought of my body- not the strongest, or thinnest, but certainly capable. Healthy and powerful in its own right. How I hated the recovery period after my surgery when I couldn’t run, and how I promised I wouldn’t take this ability for granted again. How I loved what it does for my body and to my mind.

I thought of my parents- how lucky I was to get two of the most loving, good-hearted people to learn from, parents who so strongly believe in me, allow me to chase my dreams, and are there for me to see me through whether I reach those goals or fail miserably. Who may not understand or agree with every word or action, but still love me. Who have so graciously put my needs or selfish wants first ahead of their own, every single time. And who would do it all over again. Who are the best examples of unconditional love.

And then I couldn’t focus on any of it. I was at mile 23. I wasn’t running, I was surviving. I had barely a 5k left to run. I could do it. This was it. Almost there. Almost home. My senses were in overdrive, I think they just shut off. I couldn’t feel anything. Not my legs, not whether or not I still had to pee, what I was hearing, nothing. There were other runners that had slowed to a walk, some whizzed by, but I wasn’t really paying attention. All I could think about was to keep going, to keep the momentum, to put one foot in front of the other until I was done. I felt like a zombie.

When we were in the heart of mile 25, rounding the corner to the final leg of the race, I parted ways with Sue and Tina. I exhaled sharply and propeled myself forward with every last ounce of energy I still had. My legs weren’t jello, they were nothing. I couldn’t feel the grinding in my kneecaps. I wasn’t floating, though. I was pounding the pavement, breaking past a group of twenty-something guys, pumping my arms which were already stiff and sore and so tired, until I cruised across that finish line and had to remember how to make myself stop and walk again. And to breathe, to be back in reality.

I’d dreamed of this moment a million times ever since I set this goal. It was my first marathon…I figured that I would be so overcome with emotion, so moved to tears, that I’d break down and cry. But I didn’t. I just smiled, caught my breath, and collected my medal, a banana, and two chocolate milks, and tried to process the fact that it was over.

My boyfriend came over to me, tackling me in the biggest hug, and took the load of post-race treats from my hands. My parents, sister-in-law, and niece came just seconds after, congratulating me and full of smiles. I saw Barb, Sue, and Tina and got pictures with them. I told my family the same thing I had told them on the course. I would not have made it through without them. And I knew that it was true. I probably still would have finished, but surely not as strongly and as quickly as I did today. They kept my mind at ease, my feet steady, my body moving. I only prayed that this group of women understood that, and that although they were strangers, knew just how much I was indebted to them. Not only that, but how happy I was to have met and befriended them.

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Barb, Sue, me, Tina.

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This girl got her BQ!

Even a week later, I’m still processing the fact that I am a marathoner. Those 4 hours and 25 minutes passed so quickly, believe it or not, that I wish I could go back and make myself realize I was in them. As I stuff my face with chocolate cake for the sixth night in a row, I try to formulate what those 26.2 miles have taught me. Endurance. Strength. Patience. Pain. Joy. Humility. Gratefulness. Confidence. Pride. Survival. Discipline. I think I’m still learning. I crossed this item off my bucket list, but something tells me that my education is far from over…

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First Anniversary!

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Whoa. Exactly one year ago I created From This Side of the Sun. I had zero clue how to use WordPress, let alone how to blog, and no idea what would happen once I let this baby out into the world. All I knew is that I had to do it. I had to create an outlet for my voice.

Since then, it’s been nothing short of an incredible adventure in itself, and my saving grace in its own right. I’ve been able to share my stories of traveling, my struggles and accomplishments with running, my poetry, and even opened up about my health issues. I’ve written about my passions and my most embarrassing moments, from wild adventures to every day life. I have connected with so many individuals across the country, and surprisingly enough, this blog has brought me even closer to those already here at home.

So a massive THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for following along these past 365 days, being an instrumental part of my continuous growth and support of strength, and letting me share my world with you.

New here? I got ya covered. Here’s a snapshot of  some of my favorite memories (both old & new) of posts from August 2015-now. Time really does fly when you’re having fun, huh?

 

Can’t wait to see what’s next!

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Shawna & Shelly 6.18.16

This past weekend, my best friend of over 10 years got married to the love of her life, and it was the most gorgeous day.

Both the ceremony and reception took place at West End- Elliott Overlook Park. What a view!

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We started our day with wine at the salon, how else?

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LET’S GO GET YOU MARRIED!

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So honored to stand by your side as your MOH.

 

Bridesmaids and the entire bridal party.

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Cutting the cake- Prantl’s famous Burnt Almond Torte.

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A reunion, a marriage, a perfect day.

 

Shawna and Shelly, as much as I love the both of you, I love you even more together. I’ve never met two people who are more supportive of each other, who take care of each other unconditionally, and who love without boundaries. The strength of your relationship knows no limits. You may not know it, but your love, your commitment to one another is such an inspiration. I want to shout from the rooftops just how happy I am that you guys found each other. From seeing your relationship begin, to seeing that love grow into marriage, is something I’m lucky to witness, and I can’t wait to see all the years to come. May you always have each other to hold, and have a spare bedroom I can sleep in.

Here’s to Shawna, and Shelly, to their soon-to-be adventures in Chicago and to sharing a lifetime of happiness together.  To my best friends: I love you, and congratulations!

 

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Pittsburgh Poetry Review Roadshow

Calling yinz near and far, check out Pittsburgh Poetry Review!

My poem “Tuesdays at Baum Grove” was published in Issue Two, and I read at the  Pittsburgh Poetry Review Roadshow last night (Thursday, May 19th) at  Té Café in Squirrel Hill with Jen Ashburn.

(Note: Seeing your name on a poster for the first time as a featured reader is pretty cool.)

Some photos from the evening.

 

I read a total of ten poems, one of which I had literally thrown together that same afternoon. Some I had written in my Madwomen workshops, some came from my experiences in Spain, and others uncovered the emotions behind getting my pacemaker.

Jen Ashburn, who lived in Japan for four years, graced us with her incredible poems, as did Jason Irwin and Jill Khoury for the Open Mic session.

Although I didn’t try any tea, Té Café had some really good coffee in cups the size of giant soup bowls. Definitely will be coming back for the poetry and the caffeine 🙂

Check out next week’s readers Edward Murray, Jamilla Rice, and Janeen Rastall. Same place, same time!

Pittsburgh Poetry Review currently publishes 3 issues a year, March, July, and November. You can find more information on their website or on their Facebook page.

 

Special thanks again to those that made this possible: Michael Albright, Jennifer Jackson Berry, and Daniel Shapiro for seeing something in my work and taking a chance on me.

Thanks so much to everyone that came out! Hope you enjoyed my words as much as I loved reading them.

 

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